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AUTHOR: Chelsea
ORIGINAL STORY: elevator snippet by mcee
PAIRING: domlijah
SUMMARY: It's simply a job with perks.
DISCLAIMER: not real (though vaguely inspired by a real article), not owned, remix of mcee's original story


Elevator sex is less common than most people think, but when it happens, the culprits rarely consider that elevators, while giving all the illusions of privacy, are always very closely monitored.

She's learned more Hollywood secrets sitting in the security center than the Enquirer has ever guessed at.

Blink blink says the little red light in the sky.


Of course she recognizes them even dressed in their own skin.

Elijah Wood. Dom Monaghan. Names burned in her memory across a thousand movie screens.

There is no surprise. There isn't room anymore for little girl giggles or sharp intakes of breath at this famous face or that money making smile.

She is past that now, she tells herself.

Elijah is talking again, half o's and thin lines of would be shiny lips. She lip reads "smack" and "ass" and wonders how far this will go.

She thinks, skin, and cannot contain a shudder.

It is not spying, she knows, but with her nose suddenly close enough to feel the heat of the screen, she cannot tell the difference. Toeing the line of professionalism and curiosity with casual carelessness.

On the second monitor, Janitor Joe is stealing the hotel towels again and if the company paid better, she would think about reporting him. Joe's a bastard but the employee benefits here are worse.


Elijah is laughing. Dom is not, though he is only pretending to be somber.

Tongues again, but there are too many syllables to make out.

They glance up, but not at her. They see nothing of course, only each other. Anticipation, she thinks (hopes).

She is waiting.


Laura the Maid once told her that there are these rumors see, and well, everyone knows that in Hollywood, everything happens.

"Sex is free here," Laura had said.

She had not believed Laura of course. There are too many "I heard"s and "they say"s to bother with, and though she sees Elijah's eyes and Dom's smile when she feels the warmth of her hand rub harder, it does not mean that she believes.

She had not lingered on fingers brushing together, arms across shoulders, hips jostling each other as they entered.

She had not thought then, "Elijah and Dom are going to have sex," though she had wanted to, secretly in the back of her mind.

She didn't think she was so old.

She had been tired. She is only guarding rich women's purses and cheating husband's secrets and one more fantasy had seemed melodramatic.

It was understandable, perhaps.


Her roommate has seen Lord of the Rings ten times. Her roommate says the elvish names like liquid and knows who played Haldir.

She does not.

She does not mind not knowing.

She remembers the way Elijah's eyes had blinked back tears and Orlando's fingers had traced his bow. She remembers the way Billy's smile had lit up at second breakfast and Sean's voice had cracked on "Master."

She knows this is enough.


It is not the first time that she has wished for sound.

Elijah makes a perfect V with his legs spread wide, easy to step into.

Dom is dancing up Elijah's arm, coming closer.

Elijah is smiling.

"Oh Dom, you feel so good," she imagines in a Harlequin heroine voice. She can't see his lips anymore, but the way that Dom is gripping his thigh, moving up, she cannot believe that Elijah is not moaning.

Close, she thinks, so close. Feels the burn in her stomach.

She likes to think that she cannot be blamed for looking. It's her job, and they're young and pretty, but then, they usually are in this town.

She blinks as the elevator's lights flash.

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