Need A Lift?

You step in and are slammed against the side.

Going up?

Going down?

Do you want to go down? Perhaps there's no choice?

It's moving.

How many people are in here? It's such a squash.
And so hot.

Hot bodies.

Hot breath.

Is that whisky you can smell?
It is.

'Go on, tell us what happened,' says a voice.

That's someone's hand.

You should have worn tights, you're thinking.
Or trousers. Not such a short skirt.
Not bare legs.

'Knickers!'

Crikey!

'Going down.'

Shite! They don't hang about.

It's going up.

You can feel it going up.


Let Me Out