"So you didn't answer my question," she said.

"Your question?"

"Yes. What do you do?" She took another sip of water and brushed crumbs off her coat. She untied the sash of her long, wool coat, stood up, and removed her coat. He was surprised to see how shapely she was. The coat was too large for her and, without it on, she looked 20 pounds lighter. She sat down, curling her legs up.

"Oh. That question." He paused. "I do consulting work and some writing."

"How interesting! It must be nice to be able to set your own hours like that." She leaned forward.

"It can be, I guess. But if I don't work, I don't eat. And it's hard to give myself vacation. What do you do?"

"Accounts payable for a store. It's pretty mindless work most of the time. The bills come in, the checks go out. But at least the people are nice. What kind of writing do you do?"

He hesitated again, a bit longer this time. "Oh. Short stories, some online stuff. Nothing you've ever seen, I'm sure."

"Oh." She nodded a bit, sensing that he was avoiding her question. She sighed a bit, and looked around the elevator. "How long till they get us out of here, d'you think?"

He shrugged, glad she'd taken the hint. Not too many people took the news that he was a professional dominant and that he wrote erotic stories for a living very well. And she didn't look like the type who would, he thought, though, he admitted to himself, you never could tell. "Who knows, with this weather. Could be soon, could be hours."

She nodded thoughtfully. "My aunt was once stuck in an elevator for almost a whole day. All alone. She said she nearly went crazy by the end. That would seriously freak me out."

"Yeah. I can imagine."

There was a ringing noise. Both of them checked their cell phones, which didn't get any reception in the elevator, then realized it was the elevator phone. He picked it up and listened, saying "OK" a few times. When he hung up, he didn't look happy.

"It's gonna be a few hours. They can't get anybody out here till it stops snowing. Too bad we don't have cards or something."

She smiled, reached into her purse, and pulled out a deck of cards.

He laughed. "Do you have a corkscrew in there, by any chance?" He waved at the bottle of wine.

She laughed, and started to dig deeper in her purse. She began pulling items out, finally producing a corkscrew.

He bowed at her. "I will never again underestimate the power of a woman's purse." He uncapped the wine and offered it to her. She took the bottle, looked at the label briefly, then drank and handed the bottle back to him. He drank, then sat the bottle between them.

They stared around the elevator for a bit, and suddenly she said, "My name is Alison. I live on the 7th floor."

He was startled for a moment, having let his mind wander, thinking about what she might look like undressed. "Will. My name is Will. Tenth floor."

"Wow. You must have an nice view up there. I look straight into the top floor of the building next door."

"It's nice."

They sat quietly again for a few minutes. He pulled off another piece of cheese, and lay that between them, along with the baguette.

She sat there, trying to come up with something they could talk about, when he abruptly said, "I'm a professional dominant. I tie people up and make them do things for money."

She blinked. "Come again?"

"I am a professional dominant. I specialize in bondage. Women. Only women. I don't have any male clients. And the stories I write. They're, well. . . They're about bondage, too."

She stared at him, then seemed to realize she was staring, and tore her eyes away. She couldn't think of anything to say.

He was angry with himself. Why did I tell her that? She'll get me kicked out of the building or something. He was somewhat surprised to find himself caring what she thought about him, and tried to brush those thoughts away. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Let's just pretend I didn't say anything, OK?"

"No," she said slowly. "No. It's OK. I mean, it's a job, right?" She smiled a little. "Must be an interesting job. What's the weirdest thing somebody's asked you to do?"

"Oh. I really couldn't say."

She blushed. "I'm sorry. Clients must want you to keep that sort of thing to yourself."

"No, it's not that. I mean, sure, they'd never want me to tell you who they are. But I'm really not sure what the weirdest thing anybody's asked me to do is. I'd have to think about that."

She relaxed, picked up the bottle of wine, and took another drink. They'd been in the elevator for half an hour.