Get the spare

"Shit" she cried, cursing herself for not remembering. There was a spare at the end of the hall hidden in the air conditioner, but she was in no state to travel even that short a distance. As if sensing her predicament and wishing to make it worse, the phantom intruders backed off slightly, leaving her teetering on the edge of orgasm. "No," she moaned helplessly. But it didn't help.

Her knees were too shaky for her to stand, so she crawled to the end of the hall, shapely ass clocking back and forth. She felt around behind the air conditioner and finally found the key, even though she couldn't feel it through the leather gloves.

Her invisible torturers chose that moment to push her over the edge. She tried to stifle her sex cries, for fear of her neighboors hearing but failed. "Forget em'" she cried, panting and angry, "most of them are at work anyway. And either way you're out of here."

She regained her feet when she heard the elevator chime. "It can't be...that cop?" She stealthily peered around the corner, and sure enough, there he was. He wasn't looking her way. She dared to hope that the doorman hadn't known her room number, only her floor. It being Saturday, the manager wasn't working so it was possible. She crept back to her room and quietly opened the door. "What am I going to do?"