Laundry Girl
How fucking long does it take to do fucking laundry? I swear to god, I am never doing this shit again. What possessed me to think that I could actually accomplish this on my own? Watching the endless cycle of the washing machine was "mind bottling". I, of course had to choose the one Laundromat that didn't have fucking Wi-Fi, so I couldn't even entertain myself with Youtube or check my Fb. I've been here since two-thirty this morning, trying to go through two months of laundry. Yeah, I'm lazy, plus, my mom always does it for me. Un-fucking-fortunately, she and my dad decided to do a six month tour of Europe last month, so here I am. I have no clue on how to do this shit. Also, fuck me very much, I was almost out of money. I had also managed to turn my whites into a delicate rose color thanks to a stray red bandana that was left by another patron. I was seriously pissed. Now it was exactly 4:03 in the morning and wasn't anywhere near done with this. I was seriously contemplating joining a nudist colony.
The heat was stifling. I was drenched in sweat and wanting desperately to take my shirt off, just to feel the air on my skin. Fuck it, I thought, no one is around. I whipped off my drenched black pocket- T and threw it in the next load. Not much of an improvement, but every little bit helped. I tilted my head back, popping my neck, trying to fight off the slow, but persistent crick I was getting from sitting on this stupid fucking folding table and keep myself awake. I twisted my torso, feeling and hearing cracks as the tension was released from my spine. I was turning the other way, towards the door, when I heard a quiet gasp. I opened my eyes from the grimace of my activity to find the source of the noise.
She was breathtaking. All mahogany hair, thick and curling, stopping around the middle of her back. Skin the color of pink and cream roses, legs that went for miles in her short-shorts and ended in tiny feet wedged in flip flops. Her arms were slim and toned, hips curving like some fucking pinup girl from the 50s. As I continued my not so subtle perusal of her glorious body, I heard a slight clearing of a throat, wanting to get attention. My gaze finally made its way up, my green eyes staring into deep pools of the most delicious espresso brown orbs I've ever seen. The second our colors met, it was like the strike of a match. Snap, and fire I've never felt before erupted through my body, igniting every particle and synapse, cycling through every nerve ending, not ceasing until the flames reached my dick. My cock immediately stood at attention, craving the source of this frenzy in my body. I was really fucking glad I was sitting down, or else my little goddess would be getting quite the surprise right now. I'm not sure how long we stared at each other, but it felt like time had stood still and we were the only two people in existence.
I had never wanted someone so badly with my entire being like I wanted her.
She was standing in front of me, laundry basket tucked under her little arm, watching me fucking ogle her like some guy that's never seen a woman before. She quirked one her perfectly sculpted brows at me and then turned to set her clothing on the only other folding table in the place. As soon as eye contact was broken, my mind went back to some form of normalcy. What the fuck had just happened? I promptly closed my mouth and proceeded to continue with the mind fuck that was my own laundry. Goddamn! I needed some fucking change!