His gaze is intense. Almost piercing but gentle. The doors start to slide closed. I want him. Now. An arm peaks through and the doors quickly jerk open unleashing a crowd of people. He is on the opposite end and I, wet with anticipation, am forced to contain my elation behind this towering cluster of strangers. They are strangers. I will never see them again. I reason with myself. I want to collapse onto his body, grab his hand and slip it in my panties. I want his finger continuously sliding against me while he kisses me with as much force as he can muster, knowing that this moment is the last of our time together.
The elevator stops at the third floor. The crowd dissipates except for one. I stare with great disdain at this nuisance but I am caught off guard when the hands that I yearn so much touch me. I can see his impatience has grown but quickly escapes him when I catch his eyes. We kiss and time no longer exists.
We arrive at the lobby floor. The stranger leaves without regard to what was occurring in his presence. Now we are alone. Neither one of us move. I do not dare break away from his gaze. The doors stay open and we just linger. Is this it? I am not ready to say goodbye. I can't. I want him. One last time. Once the doors close he pulls the emergency switch and we quickly collide into each other.
I am now in a cab. Alone. Without him. But I can not shake off the smile on my face. The things we did in the elevator. I can just replay it in my mind over and over again.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2nz301/the_elevator
This is from a submission on a constrained writing prompt about implied sex.