Sarah and Emma: The battle of the Elevator!!!!
By the Masked Writer
As Sarah and Emma walked side by side toward the elevator, their differences became apparent in the subtleties of their movements and posture. Sarah, at 5’4”, held herself with a professional poise, her steps measured and deliberate. In her early forties, she had a refined look—shoulder-length dark blonde hair styled into a neat, low bun, and blue eyes that observed everything around her with a quiet, restrained intensity. She wore a fitted gray blazer over a soft lavender blouse, but her slim build, though elegant, lacked the firm tone of someone accustomed to regular physical activity. Her gaze was sharp, but her movements carried a faint hesitance, as if she were consciously maintaining an image of control.
Emma, on the other hand, had a natural confidence that showed with each stride. At 5’8” and in her mid-thirties, she had an athleticism that was easy to see. Her fitted navy pantsuit accentuated her broad shoulders and muscular arms, and her strides were fluid, yet with a distinct energy. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, revealing focused green eyes and a slight smirk as she glanced briefly at Sarah. Emma’s gait had a power behind it, the sort of ease that comes from both physical strength and self-confidence. Her steps were quick, but with a nimbleness and easiness, which resulted in her never seeming hurried; she walked like someone who had nothing to prove and expected others to fall in line with her pace.
While Sarah squared her shoulders in a way that conveyed professional control, Emma’s posture spoke to a control born from physical conditioning and the certainty that she could hold her own in any situation. Emma’s presence radiated dominance, and as they neared the elevator, Sarah felt a quiet tension in the air, as if Emma’s mere proximity were an implicit challenge.
Emma reached the elevator first and pressed the button, glancing at her watch impatiently. Sarah arrived a few moments later, stopping just a step behind her, a bit out of breath. She stiffened, visibly irritated by Emma’s presence.
The two women exchanged a brief, knowing look.
“Oh, wonderful,” Sarah muttered under her short breath, eyes looking at the ceiling as she stepped into the elevator beside Emma.
Emma raised a brow, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Sarah,” she said in a smooth voice “Didn't expect to run into you today.”
“Believe me, I would’ve taken the stairs if I’d known you’d be here,” Sarah shot back, folding her arms defensively. She shifted her weight, subtly moving to take up a bit more space, the effect being a bit defiant but hardly threatening.
The doors closed and the elevator began its ascent. The two women stood in tense silence for a few floors, until the lights flickered, and, with a muffled sound, the elevator lurched to a halt.
Sarah’s face blanched. “You’re kidding me.”
Emma hit the emergency button, pressing it with a touch more force than necessary. “They will get it fixed soon enough. Just stay calm.”
“Stay calm?” Sarah let out a short laugh, filled with exasperation. “Not everyone can brush off getting stuck like it is nothing… Though I’ll say it would be easier for me if you were somewhere else!”
At first, Emma just sneered. Both women had been working in the same office for about a year, now. Time enough to discover they did not like each other very much. And that is putting it mildly. What’s more, their job put them often in competition against one another. So, things had been going from “not liking” to jealousy and even hatred. So far, it never went further than a few piques. But somehow, in the confined atmosphere of the elevator, things were boiling. Like in a pressure-cooker.
After a while, Emma took a deep breath and turned to Sarah, arms crossing. “Some of us know how to keep cool under pressure,” she said, a subtle challenge in her tone.
Sarah bristled. “You always have to act so superior, don’t you?”
Emma’s jaw clenched. “And you always have to act up! Like you have something to prove but can’t.”
The words, laced with old resentments, made the pressure-cooker blow up. Sarah, with what sounded like a roar, lunged first, shoving Emma back against the wall.
Emma barely blinked as Sarah’s initial shove pushed her back. Her gaze sharpened. A smirk played at the corner of her mouth as she sidestepped Sarah’s next move with ease. And shoved her back.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Emma taunted, her voice low and mocking. “I thought you’d at least make this interesting.”
Sarah’s face flushed with frustration. She lunged forward again, swinging at Emma, who, with a quick and precise move, caught Sarah’s wrist mid-air and twisted it just enough to make her yelp in pain. Sarah tried to pull back, but Emma’s grip was unyielding.
“Come on, Sarah. You’re the one who started this,” Emma murmured, pushing Sarah back against the elevator wall with enough force to rattle her. “What happened to all that big talk of yours?”
Sarah struggled, twisting her body in a desperate attempt to wriggle free. She lifted a knee, but Emma anticipated it and blocked her effortlessly, pressing Sarah’s wrists against the wall with even more force.
“Pathetic,” Emma hissed, leaning in close enough for her words to sting. “You really think you can fight me? Look at you, already gasping for air and squirming like a fish on a hook.”
Gritting her teeth, Sarah glared, refusing to give up. She tried to sweep Emma’s leg with her own, but Emma barely budged. Instead, she tightened her hold, twisting Sarah’s arms enough to make her wince.
“Face it, you’re out of your league,” Emma sneered, her tone dripping with condescension. “All that attitude, and nothing to show for it. I could almost feel sorry for you.”
“Shut up!” Sarah spat, trying one last, desperate push, but Emma easily absorbed it, using her superior leverage to pin Sarah even harder against the wall with all her weight a good 10 pounds more than Sarah’s. Sarah’s breath came in shallow pants, her face red with both exertion and humiliation as she realized how easily Emma was handling her.
Emma leaned in close, her voice a mocking whisper. “You think anyone here actually respects you? Or do they just feel sorry for you?”
Emma leaned in close, her voice a mocking whisper. “You think anyone here actually respects you? Or do they pity you?”
Sarah’s eyes flared with humiliation and rage. She wrenched her arm, trying to pull free from Emma’s grip, and attempted to twist her body in a desperate effort to escape. Emma let her struggle, a faint, cruel smile appearing on her face as Sarah’s attempts grew frantic.
“Come on, Sarah,” Emma sneered, her tone turning icy as she leaned her full weight into her, keeping Sarah’s arms pinned to her sides. “Is this really your best? I expected more of a fight from all that attitude.”
Sarah struggled again, this time bringing her whole body into it, trying to push back with her shoulders, to shift Emma’s weight even just a little. But Emma’s grip was too strong, her stance steady. As Sarah’s attempts grew weaker, Emma’s grip only tightened, and the faint smile faded from her face.
“Pathetic,” Emma said coldly, pressing down even harder until Sarah’s shoulders sagged slightly, her breath coming in short, frustrated pants. “All that mouth, all those little power games, and this is how you really hold up?”
Sarah’s face twisted with a mix of fury and shame, her cheeks reddening. She lifted her foot, aiming a desperate kick at Emma’s shins, but Emma sidestepped, pushing her back even harder in response. Sarah’s head thudded lightly against the elevator wall, and she winced, the fight draining from her expression as she realized just how outmatched she was.
Emma leaned in close, her voice a low, mocking whisper. “You’re exhausted already? Poor Sarah.” She released one of Sarah’s wrists just long enough to tap her cheek in a condescending gesture, then grabbed her arm again before Sarah could even think to pull away.
Sarah’s chest heaved, her face flushed, her energy almost spent. She looked away, a final hint of defiance in her eyes even as her breathing came in ragged gasps. “Go to hell, Emma,” she muttered.
Emma’s patience snapped. In a brutal move, she spun Sarah around and pressed her arms behind her back, keeping her face close to the wall. “How about you save that attitude for someone you can actually handle,” Emma snarled, her tone harsher now, no longer amused.
Sarah squirmed weakly, trying once more to twist away, but Emma barely budged, her strength unyielding. They stood there, Sarah’s efforts dwindling to exhausted gasps, Emma’s grip as solid as ever. Finally, Emma lost patience completely and, maintaining Sarah’s wrist with her left hand, she launched a vicious punch in Sarah’s lower back. Sarah screamed and her legs gave way. Emma released her grip and stared with satisfaction at her opponent collapsing like a rag doll. Sarah writhed in pain, groaning faintly, trying to massage her aching lower back. She was crying, tears rolling on her cheeks, as much of pain as of humiliation. She began to painfully try to get back up, all the fight had now left her.
Emma smiled and taunted: “Want to try it again, wimp?”
Sarah did not answer, her eyes meekly avoiding Emma’s gaze.
Then a loud “Ding!” filled the place and the elevator’s door slid open.
Emma and Sarah froze, their tense standoff now in full view of a handful of onlookers—building staff, a security guard, and a few colleagues passing by. All stared with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard by the sight of the two women they knew, disheveled, their clothes in disarray, out of breath, and one of them in tears. The two women were suddenly brought back to the real world.
Emma was the first to move, dismissively pushing Sarah out of her way. She took a deep breath, straightened her suit, and ran a hand through her hair as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Her face, calm and unreadable, betrayed none of the altercation that had just taken place. She even offered the smallest of smiles to a few staring faces, as if daring anyone to question what they had just seen.
Sarah, however, was slower to recover. She adjusted her crumpled jacket, hands shaking slightly as she tried to brush off the wrinkles, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She avoided the eyes of the onlookers, fighting to regain her composure, but her reddened face, dark traces of mascara on her cheeks, and disheveled appearance told more than she wanted.
“Everything okay here?” one of the security guards asked, glancing between the two women with raised eyebrows.
Emma gave a cool, dismissive nod. “Just a… slight miscommunication,” she said, her voice smooth, with an edge of satisfaction that only Sarah could detect.
“Right,” Sarah added quickly, her voice coming out a bit too high. She cleared her throat, forcing a weak, tight-lipped smile. “Nothing to see here.”
The two women stepped out of the elevator side by side, each maintaining as much dignity as they could muster. They moved through the crowd, painfully aware of the curious whispers and exchanged glances that followed them down the hall. Emma held her head high, unfazed, while Sarah kept her gaze firmly on the floor, wishing more than anything to escape the eyes lingering on her every move.
To be continued
As Sarah and Emma walked side by side toward the elevator, their differences became apparent in the subtleties of their movements and posture. Sarah, at 5’4”, held herself with a professional poise, her steps measured and deliberate. In her early forties, she had a refined look—shoulder-length dark blonde hair styled into a neat, low bun, and blue eyes that observed everything around her with a quiet, restrained intensity. She wore a fitted gray blazer over a soft lavender blouse, but her slim build, though elegant, lacked the firm tone of someone accustomed to regular physical activity. Her gaze was sharp, but her movements carried a faint hesitance, as if she were consciously maintaining an image of control.
Emma, on the other hand, had a natural confidence that showed with each stride. At 5’8” and in her mid-thirties, she had an athleticism that was easy to see. Her fitted navy pantsuit accentuated her broad shoulders and muscular arms, and her strides were fluid, yet with a distinct energy. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, revealing focused green eyes and a slight smirk as she glanced briefly at Sarah. Emma’s gait had a power behind it, the sort of ease that comes from both physical strength and self-confidence. Her steps were quick, but with a nimbleness and easiness, which resulted in her never seeming hurried; she walked like someone who had nothing to prove and expected others to fall in line with her pace.
While Sarah squared her shoulders in a way that conveyed professional control, Emma’s posture spoke to a control born from physical conditioning and the certainty that she could hold her own in any situation. Emma’s presence radiated dominance, and as they neared the elevator, Sarah felt a quiet tension in the air, as if Emma’s mere proximity were an implicit challenge.
Emma reached the elevator first and pressed the button, glancing at her watch impatiently. Sarah arrived a few moments later, stopping just a step behind her, a bit out of breath. She stiffened, visibly irritated by Emma’s presence.
The two women exchanged a brief, knowing look.
“Oh, wonderful,” Sarah muttered under her short breath, eyes looking at the ceiling as she stepped into the elevator beside Emma.
Emma raised a brow, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Sarah,” she said in a smooth voice “Didn't expect to run into you today.”
“Believe me, I would’ve taken the stairs if I’d known you’d be here,” Sarah shot back, folding her arms defensively. She shifted her weight, subtly moving to take up a bit more space, the effect being a bit defiant but hardly threatening.
The doors closed and the elevator began its ascent. The two women stood in tense silence for a few floors, until the lights flickered, and, with a muffled sound, the elevator lurched to a halt.
Sarah’s face blanched. “You’re kidding me.”
Emma hit the emergency button, pressing it with a touch more force than necessary. “They will get it fixed soon enough. Just stay calm.”
“Stay calm?” Sarah let out a short laugh, filled with exasperation. “Not everyone can brush off getting stuck like it is nothing… Though I’ll say it would be easier for me if you were somewhere else!”
At first, Emma just sneered. Both women had been working in the same office for about a year, now. Time enough to discover they did not like each other very much. And that is putting it mildly. What’s more, their job put them often in competition against one another. So, things had been going from “not liking” to jealousy and even hatred. So far, it never went further than a few piques. But somehow, in the confined atmosphere of the elevator, things were boiling. Like in a pressure-cooker.
After a while, Emma took a deep breath and turned to Sarah, arms crossing. “Some of us know how to keep cool under pressure,” she said, a subtle challenge in her tone.
Sarah bristled. “You always have to act so superior, don’t you?”
Emma’s jaw clenched. “And you always have to act up! Like you have something to prove but can’t.”
The words, laced with old resentments, made the pressure-cooker blow up. Sarah, with what sounded like a roar, lunged first, shoving Emma back against the wall.
Emma barely blinked as Sarah’s initial shove pushed her back. Her gaze sharpened. A smirk played at the corner of her mouth as she sidestepped Sarah’s next move with ease. And shoved her back.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Emma taunted, her voice low and mocking. “I thought you’d at least make this interesting.”
Sarah’s face flushed with frustration. She lunged forward again, swinging at Emma, who, with a quick and precise move, caught Sarah’s wrist mid-air and twisted it just enough to make her yelp in pain. Sarah tried to pull back, but Emma’s grip was unyielding.
“Come on, Sarah. You’re the one who started this,” Emma murmured, pushing Sarah back against the elevator wall with enough force to rattle her. “What happened to all that big talk of yours?”
Sarah struggled, twisting her body in a desperate attempt to wriggle free. She lifted a knee, but Emma anticipated it and blocked her effortlessly, pressing Sarah’s wrists against the wall with even more force.
“Pathetic,” Emma hissed, leaning in close enough for her words to sting. “You really think you can fight me? Look at you, already gasping for air and squirming like a fish on a hook.”
Gritting her teeth, Sarah glared, refusing to give up. She tried to sweep Emma’s leg with her own, but Emma barely budged. Instead, she tightened her hold, twisting Sarah’s arms enough to make her wince.
“Face it, you’re out of your league,” Emma sneered, her tone dripping with condescension. “All that attitude, and nothing to show for it. I could almost feel sorry for you.”
“Shut up!” Sarah spat, trying one last, desperate push, but Emma easily absorbed it, using her superior leverage to pin Sarah even harder against the wall with all her weight a good 10 pounds more than Sarah’s. Sarah’s breath came in shallow pants, her face red with both exertion and humiliation as she realized how easily Emma was handling her.
Emma leaned in close, her voice a mocking whisper. “You think anyone here actually respects you? Or do they just feel sorry for you?”
Emma leaned in close, her voice a mocking whisper. “You think anyone here actually respects you? Or do they pity you?”
Sarah’s eyes flared with humiliation and rage. She wrenched her arm, trying to pull free from Emma’s grip, and attempted to twist her body in a desperate effort to escape. Emma let her struggle, a faint, cruel smile appearing on her face as Sarah’s attempts grew frantic.
“Come on, Sarah,” Emma sneered, her tone turning icy as she leaned her full weight into her, keeping Sarah’s arms pinned to her sides. “Is this really your best? I expected more of a fight from all that attitude.”
Sarah struggled again, this time bringing her whole body into it, trying to push back with her shoulders, to shift Emma’s weight even just a little. But Emma’s grip was too strong, her stance steady. As Sarah’s attempts grew weaker, Emma’s grip only tightened, and the faint smile faded from her face.
“Pathetic,” Emma said coldly, pressing down even harder until Sarah’s shoulders sagged slightly, her breath coming in short, frustrated pants. “All that mouth, all those little power games, and this is how you really hold up?”
Sarah’s face twisted with a mix of fury and shame, her cheeks reddening. She lifted her foot, aiming a desperate kick at Emma’s shins, but Emma sidestepped, pushing her back even harder in response. Sarah’s head thudded lightly against the elevator wall, and she winced, the fight draining from her expression as she realized just how outmatched she was.
Emma leaned in close, her voice a low, mocking whisper. “You’re exhausted already? Poor Sarah.” She released one of Sarah’s wrists just long enough to tap her cheek in a condescending gesture, then grabbed her arm again before Sarah could even think to pull away.
Sarah’s chest heaved, her face flushed, her energy almost spent. She looked away, a final hint of defiance in her eyes even as her breathing came in ragged gasps. “Go to hell, Emma,” she muttered.
Emma’s patience snapped. In a brutal move, she spun Sarah around and pressed her arms behind her back, keeping her face close to the wall. “How about you save that attitude for someone you can actually handle,” Emma snarled, her tone harsher now, no longer amused.
Sarah squirmed weakly, trying once more to twist away, but Emma barely budged, her strength unyielding. They stood there, Sarah’s efforts dwindling to exhausted gasps, Emma’s grip as solid as ever. Finally, Emma lost patience completely and, maintaining Sarah’s wrist with her left hand, she launched a vicious punch in Sarah’s lower back. Sarah screamed and her legs gave way. Emma released her grip and stared with satisfaction at her opponent collapsing like a rag doll. Sarah writhed in pain, groaning faintly, trying to massage her aching lower back. She was crying, tears rolling on her cheeks, as much of pain as of humiliation. She began to painfully try to get back up, all the fight had now left her.
Emma smiled and taunted: “Want to try it again, wimp?”
Sarah did not answer, her eyes meekly avoiding Emma’s gaze.
Then a loud “Ding!” filled the place and the elevator’s door slid open.
Emma and Sarah froze, their tense standoff now in full view of a handful of onlookers—building staff, a security guard, and a few colleagues passing by. All stared with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard by the sight of the two women they knew, disheveled, their clothes in disarray, out of breath, and one of them in tears. The two women were suddenly brought back to the real world.
Emma was the first to move, dismissively pushing Sarah out of her way. She took a deep breath, straightened her suit, and ran a hand through her hair as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Her face, calm and unreadable, betrayed none of the altercation that had just taken place. She even offered the smallest of smiles to a few staring faces, as if daring anyone to question what they had just seen.
Sarah, however, was slower to recover. She adjusted her crumpled jacket, hands shaking slightly as she tried to brush off the wrinkles, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She avoided the eyes of the onlookers, fighting to regain her composure, but her reddened face, dark traces of mascara on her cheeks, and disheveled appearance told more than she wanted.
“Everything okay here?” one of the security guards asked, glancing between the two women with raised eyebrows.
Emma gave a cool, dismissive nod. “Just a… slight miscommunication,” she said, her voice smooth, with an edge of satisfaction that only Sarah could detect.
“Right,” Sarah added quickly, her voice coming out a bit too high. She cleared her throat, forcing a weak, tight-lipped smile. “Nothing to see here.”
The two women stepped out of the elevator side by side, each maintaining as much dignity as they could muster. They moved through the crowd, painfully aware of the curious whispers and exchanged glances that followed them down the hall. Emma held her head high, unfazed, while Sarah kept her gaze firmly on the floor, wishing more than anything to escape the eyes lingering on her every move.
To be continued
