The Elevator

This story is by John Notley and was part of our 2017 Winter Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

THE ELEVATOR

“Don’t scream Ellie” the masked man said quietly, taking from his pocket a small glass bottle,

The elevator door closed behind him. “This flask contains a corrosive fluid which will melt your pretty face in seconds. Don’t do anything stupid”. Ellie had read about the number of recent acid attacks in London but thought that the residents of Kenward Court were immune from these.

Kenward Mansions is a block of luxury apartments in a fashionable part of London overlooking Holland Park. When one comes on the market, which rarely happens, it is snapped up fast. Estate agents describe them as “desirable residences situated in a sought after location for the discerning client”. This means don’t even look at them if you haven’t a sizeable bank balance. One of those who could afford to live in such elegant surroundings is supermodel Ellie Roberts whose face is known throughout the world of fashion.

Ellie pushed open the revolving door and headed towards the elevator, her Jimmy Choo shoes click-clacking over the marbled flooring. Steve, the friendly young concierge waved as she passed his desk,

“Hi. Miss Roberts, how did today go?”

“Good thanks Steve.”

He remembered the letters he had for her. “Miss……” he called out. She did not hear him and was already entering the elevator.

“Not to worry” he thought “I’ll give her time to get in and take them up”. It would be worth it for Ellie was known for always tipping generously.

She pressed the button to ascend to floor 12 where her penthouse was situated noting that floor 1 button was also lit up which seemed strange. Few people used the elevator mid-afternoon. The lift stopped and a slim young man wearing a brown Burberry trench coat entered backwards. He turned to face her and she saw his eyes were covered by a black party mask.

In her short modelling career Ellie had come across many unknown admirers, generally those seeking her photo or autograph but none had threatened to disfigure her before. She composed herself hoping that if she remained calm and talked to the guy she would be safe at least until she reached her floor..

“O.K. So you know who I am. How much do you want?”.

“Sure I know who you are, I’ve followed your career since I saw you on the cover of “Playboy.”

I’ve always fancied you. Forget the money, what I want from you is something more personal”.

Ellie didn’t need to guess what he was suggesting but decided that nothing would happen in the small elevator which was slowly rising to floor 3.

Between floors 3 and 6 she contemplated how good life had been to her. Just turned 25 and everything had fallen in place until now. Brought up by loving parents in a Kentish village. School at the local primary, joined the brownies, guides and youth club with her contemporaries and on to Central St. Martins School of Art. Then a lucky chance when a well known fashion photographer

spotted her, liked what he saw, and booked her for a photo shoot. Since then she had been to places and met with famous people other girls her age would die for. Her face had been literally her fortune. Now it had become a curse.

Silently she read to herself the name of the manufacturer above the door.. Otis Elevators

reminding her of the words of the Cole Porter classic: “Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today”. Miss Roberts regretfully wished that she had Miss Otis’s gun hidden beneath her dress.

She spoke again: “How did you manage to get in without being seen by the concierge?”

“Oh, that was easy. I said I had a letter for Miss Roberts but couldn’t remember your apartment number. He obligingly told me 124 and offered to put it with your other mail. He turned to deal with another enquiry and I managed to reach the staircase without being spotted. I had already seen you paying of the taxi driver outside and knew you wouldn’t be too long”.

Then an idea came to her. Perhaps this was some bizarre prank, a sick joke planned by someone who knew her.

“Do I know you? Why don’t you take off that stupid mask”.

“Now that would give the game away” he replied.

Playing it cool Ellie tried to take the initiative: “You’re still young, you don’t want to spend years in prison do you? Let’s come to some financial arrangement, but be reasonable”.

“No darling, I’ve waited too long for this. I may never get another opportunity. You wouldn’t even look twice at a guy like me normally”.

The elevator had still only reached floor 8. In the past she would have cursed it for being so slow but now she was dreading the arrival at floor 12. Every floor passed was another step in the countdown towards whatever lay ahead.

It finally stopped, the door opened and her captor steered her out into the corridor. Apartment 124 was almost opposite.

“Open up quick” he whispered in her ear”.

Terrified now that they had arrived, Ellie searched in her handbag and took out her keys with trembling fingers. He pushed her roughly into the apartment and looked around, his eyes appraising the exquisite décor and fine furniture.

“Nice place you have here. You must be minted” he commented with a smile. His voice then changed “Take off your coat and strip” he ordered while fiddling with the cap of the bottle still held in his hand.

“No” said Ellie “please don’t. I’ll do what you say”.

He seated himself on one of the two sofas and watched her intently. Leaning back, his eyes never left her face as she removed her top coat and then slowly began to unfasten the buttons of her silk blouse, fumbling with each one.

“Hurry up. We haven’t got all day”.

She shook the blouse free from her shoulders and he held out his hand to take it.

“That’s more like it. Very nice, now the rest”.

Steve at the reception desk looked at his watch. He had given Ellie about fifteen minutes to reach her apartment. He would now deliver her mail and hopefully be well rewarded. Not that he would be disappointed if she gave him nothing. One of her smiles would be adequate compensation. He took the half dozen letters from a pigeon-hole and made his was to the elevator.

Outside the door of Apartment 124 he straightened his tie and rapped lightly four times with his knuckles. There was no answer. He cleared his throat and called “Miss Roberts, it’s Steve, I have some mail for you”.

Inside Ellie looked anxiously at the masked man. “Who the hell is that?” he said angrily.

“It’s Steve, the concierge. I’ll have to answer him, he saw me come in and knows I’m here”.

“Tell him you’re busy with someone and come back later”.

“He thinks I’m alone. Don’t forget he didn’t see you take the elevator”.

“Just get rid of him and no tricks or you know what will happen”.

Ellie approached the door slowly. She knew this was her one chance if she were to escape her

captor. She opened the door a few inches and looked pleadingly into Steve’s eyes, placing a warning finger to her lips.

“Here’s your mail, Miss”. He noticed the worried look on her face and that her shoulders were bare,

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She could feel the intruder’s breath on the back of her neck, shook her head “No thanks Steve” and closed the door. Mystified, Steve shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

“Now back to business” the mask commanded “into the bedroom”.

Ellie continued undressing and was about to remove her panties when he stopped her.

“That’s enough. Get on the bed”. He pulled a camera from his pocket and proceeded to take a number of intimate and provocative poses of her. When he had finished he tossed the glass bottle at her. “You can have this now” he laughed “it’s only soda water. Thanks, I got what I came for. I’ll leave you now”.

Jason Kingston, a graduate of Central St. Martins, removed the mask, took the elevator down to the lobby and left the building. He happily anticipated the look of disbelief on the faces of his pals when he showed them the photographs and described the fabulous night he had spent in the company of a famous glamour model. He also looked forward to cashing in on the bets he had made with them. A shame she had ignored him at college, stuck-up little bitch. Things could have been different. Still it would be remiss of him if he didn’t send a nice thank you letter to Ellie Roberts.

1488

THE ELEVATOR

“Don’t scream Ellie” the masked man said quietly, taking from his pocket a small glass bottle,

The elevator door closed behind him. “This flask contains a corrosive fluid which will melt your pretty face in seconds. Don’t do anything stupid”. Ellie had read about the number of recent acid attacks in London but thought that the residents of Kenward Court were immune from these.

Kenward Mansions is a block of luxury apartments in a fashionable part of London overlooking Holland Park. When one comes on the market, which rarely happens, it is snapped up fast. Estate agents describe them as “desirable residences situated in a sought after location for the discerning client”. This means don’t even look at them if you haven’t a sizeable bank balance. One of those who could afford to live in such elegant surroundings is supermodel Ellie Roberts whose face is known throughout the world of fashion.

Ellie pushed open the revolving door and headed towards the elevator, her Jimmy Choo shoes click-clacking over the marbled flooring. Steve, the friendly young concierge waved as she passed his desk,

“Hi. Miss Roberts, how did today go?”

“Good thanks Steve.”

He remembered the letters he had for her. “Miss……” he called out. She did not hear him and was already entering the elevator.

“Not to worry” he thought “I’ll give her time to get in and take them up”. It would be worth it for Ellie was known for always tipping generously.

She pressed the button to ascend to floor 12 where her penthouse was situated noting that floor 1 button was also lit up which seemed strange. Few people used the elevator mid-afternoon. The lift stopped and a slim young man wearing a brown Burberry trench coat entered backwards. He turned to face her and she saw his eyes were covered by a black party mask.

In her short modelling career Ellie had come across many unknown admirers, generally those seeking her photo or autograph but none had threatened to disfigure her before. She composed herself hoping that if she remained calm and talked to the guy she would be safe at least until she reached her floor..

“O.K. So you know who I am. How much do you want?”.

“Sure I know who you are, I’ve followed your career since I saw you on the cover of “Playboy.”

I’ve always fancied you. Forget the money, what I want from you is something more personal”.

Ellie didn’t need to guess what he was suggesting but decided that nothing would happen in the small elevator which was slowly rising to floor 3.

Between floors 3 and 6 she contemplated how good life had been to her. Just turned 25 and everything had fallen in place until now. Brought up by loving parents in a Kentish village. School at the local primary, joined the brownies, guides and youth club with her contemporaries and on to Central St. Martins School of Art. Then a lucky chance when a well known fashion photographer

spotted her, liked what he saw, and booked her for a photo shoot. Since then she had been to places and met with famous people other girls her age would die for. Her face had been literally her fortune. Now it had become a curse.

Silently she read to herself the name of the manufacturer above the door.. Otis Elevators

reminding her of the words of the Cole Porter classic: “Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today”. Miss Roberts regretfully wished that she had Miss Otis’s gun hidden beneath her dress.

She spoke again: “How did you manage to get in without being seen by the concierge?”

“Oh, that was easy. I said I had a letter for Miss Roberts but couldn’t remember your apartment number. He obligingly told me 124 and offered to put it with your other mail. He turned to deal with another enquiry and I managed to reach the staircase without being spotted. I had already seen you paying of the taxi driver outside and knew you wouldn’t be too long”.

Then an idea came to her. Perhaps this was some bizarre prank, a sick joke planned by someone who knew her.

“Do I know you? Why don’t you take off that stupid mask”.

“Now that would give the game away” he replied.

Playing it cool Ellie tried to take the initiative: “You’re still young, you don’t want to spend years in prison do you? Let’s come to some financial arrangement, but be reasonable”.

“No darling, I’ve waited too long for this. I may never get another opportunity. You wouldn’t even look twice at a guy like me normally”.

The elevator had still only reached floor 8. In the past she would have cursed it for being so slow but now she was dreading the arrival at floor 12. Every floor passed was another step in the countdown towards whatever lay ahead.

It finally stopped, the door opened and her captor steered her out into the corridor. Apartment 124 was almost opposite.

“Open up quick” he whispered in her ear”.

Terrified now that they had arrived, Ellie searched in her handbag and took out her keys with trembling fingers. He pushed her roughly into the apartment and looked around, his eyes appraising the exquisite décor and fine furniture.

“Nice place you have here. You must be minted” he commented with a smile. His voice then changed “Take off your coat and strip” he ordered while fiddling with the cap of the bottle still held in his hand.

“No” said Ellie “please don’t. I’ll do what you say”.

He seated himself on one of the two sofas and watched her intently. Leaning back, his eyes never left her face as she removed her top coat and then slowly began to unfasten the buttons of her silk blouse, fumbling with each one.

“Hurry up. We haven’t got all day”.

She shook the blouse free from her shoulders and he held out his hand to take it.

“That’s more like it. Very nice, now the rest”.

Steve at the reception desk looked at his watch. He had given Ellie about fifteen minutes to reach her apartment. He would now deliver her mail and hopefully be well rewarded. Not that he would be disappointed if she gave him nothing. One of her smiles would be adequate compensation. He took the half dozen letters from a pigeon-hole and made his was to the elevator.

Outside the door of Apartment 124 he straightened his tie and rapped lightly four times with his knuckles. There was no answer. He cleared his throat and called “Miss Roberts, it’s Steve, I have some mail for you”.

Inside Ellie looked anxiously at the masked man. “Who the hell is that?” he said angrily.

“It’s Steve, the concierge. I’ll have to answer him, he saw me come in and knows I’m here”.

“Tell him you’re busy with someone and come back later”.

“He thinks I’m alone. Don’t forget he didn’t see you take the elevator”.

“Just get rid of him and no tricks or you know what will happen”.

Ellie approached the door slowly. She knew this was her one chance if she were to escape her

captor. She opened the door a few inches and looked pleadingly into Steve’s eyes, placing a warning finger to her lips.

“Here’s your mail, Miss”. He noticed the worried look on her face and that her shoulders were bare,

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She could feel the intruder’s breath on the back of her neck, shook her head “No thanks Steve” and closed the door. Mystified, Steve shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

“Now back to business” the mask commanded “into the bedroom”.

Ellie continued undressing and was about to remove her panties when he stopped her.

“That’s enough. Get on the bed”. He pulled a camera from his pocket and proceeded to take a number of intimate and provocative poses of her. When he had finished he tossed the glass bottle at her. “You can have this now” he laughed “it’s only soda water. Thanks, I got what I came for. I’ll leave you now”.

Jason Kingston, a graduate of Central St. Martins, removed the mask, took the elevator down to the lobby and left the building. He happily anticipated the look of disbelief on the faces of his pals when he showed them the photographs and described the fabulous night he had spent in the company of a famous glamour model. He also looked forward to cashing in on the bets he had made with them. A shame she had ignored him at college, stuck-up little bitch. Things could have been different. Still it would be remiss of him if he didn’t send a nice thank you letter to Ellie Roberts.

1488

THE ELEVATOR

“Don’t scream Ellie” the masked man said quietly, taking from his pocket a small glass bottle,

The elevator door closed behind him. “This flask contains a corrosive fluid which will melt your pretty face in seconds. Don’t do anything stupid”. Ellie had read about the number of recent acid attacks in London but thought that the residents of Kenward Court were immune from these.

Kenward Mansions is a block of luxury apartments in a fashionable part of London overlooking Holland Park. When one comes on the market, which rarely happens, it is snapped up fast. Estate agents describe them as “desirable residences situated in a sought after location for the discerning client”. This means don’t even look at them if you haven’t a sizeable bank balance. One of those who could afford to live in such elegant surroundings is supermodel Ellie Roberts whose face is known throughout the world of fashion.

Ellie pushed open the revolving door and headed towards the elevator, her Jimmy Choo shoes click-clacking over the marbled flooring. Steve, the friendly young concierge waved as she passed his desk,

“Hi. Miss Roberts, how did today go?”

“Good thanks Steve.”

He remembered the letters he had for her. “Miss……” he called out. She did not hear him and was already entering the elevator.

“Not to worry” he thought “I’ll give her time to get in and take them up”. It would be worth it for Ellie was known for always tipping generously.

She pressed the button to ascend to floor 12 where her penthouse was situated noting that floor 1 button was also lit up which seemed strange. Few people used the elevator mid-afternoon. The lift stopped and a slim young man wearing a brown Burberry trench coat entered backwards. He turned to face her and she saw his eyes were covered by a black party mask.

In her short modelling career Ellie had come across many unknown admirers, generally those seeking her photo or autograph but none had threatened to disfigure her before. She composed herself hoping that if she remained calm and talked to the guy she would be safe at least until she reached her floor..

“O.K. So you know who I am. How much do you want?”.

“Sure I know who you are, I’ve followed your career since I saw you on the cover of “Playboy.”

I’ve always fancied you. Forget the money, what I want from you is something more personal”.

Ellie didn’t need to guess what he was suggesting but decided that nothing would happen in the small elevator which was slowly rising to floor 3.

Between floors 3 and 6 she contemplated how good life had been to her. Just turned 25 and everything had fallen in place until now. Brought up by loving parents in a Kentish village. School at the local primary, joined the brownies, guides and youth club with her contemporaries and on to Central St. Martins School of Art. Then a lucky chance when a well known fashion photographer

spotted her, liked what he saw, and booked her for a photo shoot. Since then she had been to places and met with famous people other girls her age would die for. Her face had been literally her fortune. Now it had become a curse.

Silently she read to herself the name of the manufacturer above the door.. Otis Elevators

reminding her of the words of the Cole Porter classic: “Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today”. Miss Roberts regretfully wished that she had Miss Otis’s gun hidden beneath her dress.

She spoke again: “How did you manage to get in without being seen by the concierge?”

“Oh, that was easy. I said I had a letter for Miss Roberts but couldn’t remember your apartment number. He obligingly told me 124 and offered to put it with your other mail. He turned to deal with another enquiry and I managed to reach the staircase without being spotted. I had already seen you paying of the taxi driver outside and knew you wouldn’t be too long”.

Then an idea came to her. Perhaps this was some bizarre prank, a sick joke planned by someone who knew her.

“Do I know you? Why don’t you take off that stupid mask”.

“Now that would give the game away” he replied.

Playing it cool Ellie tried to take the initiative: “You’re still young, you don’t want to spend years in prison do you? Let’s come to some financial arrangement, but be reasonable”.

“No darling, I’ve waited too long for this. I may never get another opportunity. You wouldn’t even look twice at a guy like me normally”.

The elevator had still only reached floor 8. In the past she would have cursed it for being so slow but now she was dreading the arrival at floor 12. Every floor passed was another step in the countdown towards whatever lay ahead.

It finally stopped, the door opened and her captor steered her out into the corridor. Apartment 124 was almost opposite.

“Open up quick” he whispered in her ear”.

Terrified now that they had arrived, Ellie searched in her handbag and took out her keys with trembling fingers. He pushed her roughly into the apartment and looked around, his eyes appraising the exquisite décor and fine furniture.

“Nice place you have here. You must be minted” he commented with a smile. His voice then changed “Take off your coat and strip” he ordered while fiddling with the cap of the bottle still held in his hand.

“No” said Ellie “please don’t. I’ll do what you say”.

He seated himself on one of the two sofas and watched her intently. Leaning back, his eyes never left her face as she removed her top coat and then slowly began to unfasten the buttons of her silk blouse, fumbling with each one.

“Hurry up. We haven’t got all day”.

She shook the blouse free from her shoulders and he held out his hand to take it.

“That’s more like it. Very nice, now the rest”.

Steve at the reception desk looked at his watch. He had given Ellie about fifteen minutes to reach her apartment. He would now deliver her mail and hopefully be well rewarded. Not that he would be disappointed if she gave him nothing. One of her smiles would be adequate compensation. He took the half dozen letters from a pigeon-hole and made his was to the elevator.

Outside the door of Apartment 124 he straightened his tie and rapped lightly four times with his knuckles. There was no answer. He cleared his throat and called “Miss Roberts, it’s Steve, I have some mail for you”.

Inside Ellie looked anxiously at the masked man. “Who the hell is that?” he said angrily.

“It’s Steve, the concierge. I’ll have to answer him, he saw me come in and knows I’m here”.

“Tell him you’re busy with someone and come back later”.

“He thinks I’m alone. Don’t forget he didn’t see you take the elevator”.

“Just get rid of him and no tricks or you know what will happen”.

Ellie approached the door slowly. She knew this was her one chance if she were to escape her

captor. She opened the door a few inches and looked pleadingly into Steve’s eyes, placing a warning finger to her lips.

“Here’s your mail, Miss”. He noticed the worried look on her face and that her shoulders were bare,

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She could feel the intruder’s breath on the back of her neck, shook her head “No thanks Steve” and closed the door. Mystified, Steve shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

“Now back to business” the mask commanded “into the bedroom”.

Ellie continued undressing and was about to remove her panties when he stopped her.

“That’s enough. Get on the bed”. He pulled a camera from his pocket and proceeded to take a number of intimate and provocative poses of her. When he had finished he tossed the glass bottle at her. “You can have this now” he laughed “it’s only soda water. Thanks, I got what I came for. I’ll leave you now”.

Jason Kingston, a graduate of Central St. Martins, removed the mask, took the elevator down to the lobby and left the building. He happily anticipated the look of disbelief on the faces of his pals when he showed them the photographs and described the fabulous night he had spent in the company of a famous glamour model. He also looked forward to cashing in on the bets he had made with them. A shame she had ignored him at college, stuck-up little bitch. Things could have been different. Still it would be remiss of him if he didn’t send a nice thank you letter to Ellie Roberts.

1488