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Fuck, fuck, fuck… you stupid fucking machine… FUCK!
Therese Belivet was not a happy camper. The washing machine had eaten her last quarter yet nothing had happened. The inanimate block of steel holding her dirty laundry remained lifeless and uncaring no matter how much she cursed or kicked the front of it. It was almost as if the washer were mocking her through its window making a lewd face with Therese’s lacy panties pressed against the glass.
Frustrated, she yanked the door open and picked up her clothes one by one back to the hamper. Her much awaited day off had already started badly with an annoying call from her on and off boyfriend and burnt toast fished out from the bloody fucked-up toaster! By the time she had sat at her kitchenette counter to have a cup of coffee, the milk she had poured in had gone sour.
And it was fucking raining outside, raining insanely, incessantly the sky spreading over the roofs of the city like a dark mauve bruise. The icy, cold wind had chilled her bones already at home for she had forgotten to close the bedroom window for the night.
To top it off she had had no clean underwear. Well, this turned out to be my laundry day then, she had hissed shoving her delicates inside the small unassuming machine in her kitchenette. Switching it on nothing had happened, though. Great. Just what I needed. Bring it on, world! Fuck.
Therese had remembered the small laundromat just a few blocks from her but she hadn’t been at all excited about it. In fact she had never been to a laundromat in her life. The constant downpour outside depressed the hell out of her. Just my luck. Sighing, she resigned to her fate and put the laundry and detergent to a hamper. Wait. I have no clean panties. Fuck, I’ll go commando.
Fuck, fuck, fuckety-fuck… she kicked the bloody machine one more time only to hurt her toe. “Christ!!! Who does one have to screw around here to get her clothes washed!” she exclaimed not realizing she wasn’t alone in the laundromat. The place had looked abandoned but she hadn’t noticed the blonde woman sitting on the windowsill next to the entrance. The woman found her predicament terribly amusing and she didn’t even attempt to hide it. She was outright laughing.
“You think this is fu…!?” Therese snapped turning around but the minute she saw the gorgeous female by the window, the words froze on her lips. You are a goddess. Grinning mischievously, the blonde put her book away, got slowly up on her feet and made her way next to Therese. God, you smell good, Therese thought breathing rapidly.
The woman hit the machine sharply on the side causing it to spit out the quarters Therese had pushed in only a moment ago. “Umm… thank you,” Therese mumbled her cheeks reddening of embarrassment. “Don’t mention it,” the blonde replied casting a meaningful glance at Therese. She was suddenly very aware of her disheveled outlook. How could I have known I would bump into such a creature on a laundry day?
“These must be yours,” the woman said picking something up from the floor. Therese’s lacy panties. The delicious smile on her face made Therese blush even further. “Yes, thank you,” she coughed shoving them quickly in her pants’ pocket. “Wouldn’t it better to wash them now?” the stranger asked kindly. “But you do need more coins than you have here…” she informed reaching inside her handbag. “I’ll have some, you can use mine. And use the one on the right, it’s more reliable than this old thing,” the woman elaborated pointing at the machine next to the door.
“Thank you. You’re very kind,” Therese said wiping away a runaway strand of wet hair tickling her cheek. I look like a fucking mess… She was wearing worn-out baggy jeans and an equally appalling sweater drenched by the angry rain outside. The blonde woman was of course a vision in her beige pants and a shiny buttoned down shirt. “I will pay you back, of course…” Therese started but was interrupted almost immediately. “You can buy me a cup of coffee,” the woman said, “My name is Carol, Carol Aird.” They shook hands for an indefinite amount of time. “Therese. Therese Belivet.”
Befuddled, Therese wasn’t really thinking what she was doing when she threw her clothes inside the drum. Carol stopped her in no time. “God, no!” she laughed, “You have to separate them first.” She shot a surprised look at Therese. “Have you never done this before?” Carol kneeled down to pull out Therese’s clothes. Her hand caught the panties again, and when Therese saw Carol’s fingers accidentally brush the front of them, she felt a sudden rush of warmth between her legs. That’s right, I have no panties. I have only these shitty jeans over nothing. Well, not over nothing, it seems…
Carol proceeded to go through each and every piece of clothing Therese had brought along, separating and, if necessary, pre-treating them before washing. “These are nice…” Carol smiled appreciating the fine fabric of Therese’s bra before putting it inside a mesh bag. Thank God it was one of my fancier ones, Therese sighed nervously.
“Which one is yours?” Therese asked to get her mind off Carol’s hands sorting through her delicates. “I have mine still on,” Carol said grinning widely. Therese stared at her in disbelief. Right. “I mean which machine are you using?” Her new friend didn’t seem a bit disconcerted by having misunderstood her question. “Oh, I’m actually not doing my laundry today. I just like to hang out in here every once in a while, read my book…” Yawning, Carol stretched her arms behind her head and it made the top of her shirt open up unexpectedly. Therese caught a glimpse of a perfect white bra underneath her shirt. There were freckles on Carol’s smooth chest, she noticed drawing a quick, intermittent breath.
Having finished her thorough task, Carol switched the machine on and turned to face Therese. “So, how about that coffee? We have an hour or so.” The question seemed innocent enough, and it would have been just that without Therese feeling slightly off-kilter having just stared at Carol’s cleavage. “Sure. There’s a coffee shop right around the corner.”
Therese ordered two cappuccinos, a piece of lemon meringue pie for her incorrigible sweet tooth and… “Carol – what would you like to eat?” The blonde woman was already sitting at the table. “I’ll have the shrimp and arugula sandwich.”
Therese set the tray on the table and sat down. “Thank you,” said Carol eyeing her food voraciously. “I’m suddenly starving.” The expression on Carol’s face amused Therese who couldn’t but smile at her striking companion. I like a woman with a good appetite.
“May I ask what you were reading when I got in?” Therese inquired boldly. Wiping mayonnaise off the corner of her mouth Carol got the book from her handbag and handed it over. Love Poems by Anne Sexton. Leafing through the edition Therese hesitated. “Will you share some of it with me?” she asked, “something that appeals to you.” She gave the collection back. The book seemed to fly open in the exact right place all by itself for Carol was looking at Therese the entire time she held the thin volume in her hands. Therese couldn’t tell if she was actually smiling or not, but the way Carol was gazing into her eyes was captivating all the same. “This is called Song for a Lady.”
On the day of breasts and small hips
the window pocked with bad rain,
rain coming on like a minister,
we coupled, so sane and insane.
We lay like spoons while the sinister
rain dropped like flies on our lips
and our glad eyes and our small hips.
“The room is so cold with rain,” you said
and you, feminine you, with your flower
said novenas to my ankles and elbows.
You are a national product and power.
Oh my swan, my drudge, my dear wooly rose,
even a notary would notarize our bed
as you knead me and I rise like bread.
By the time Carol finished reciting the poem Therese was again very aware of the fact that she was not wearing anything under her jeans. The windows of the coffee shop were streaked with stretched wet beads from the skies maddening, distorting her vision. Carol was looking at her curiously as if waiting for an answer, but as far as what the question was, it still eluded Therese.
The lemon meringue pie appeared shriveled on her plate. The fluffiness it had promised sank under Therese’s fork, and the splendid, sour taste stung her taste buds wickedly. She raised her head to meet Carol’s gaze. “Would you like a piece of my pie?” she asked in a monotonous voice. “A poem of such magnitude certainly deserves something sweet and sour.”
Without waiting for a reply she offered a forkful of her slice to Carol who leaned forward to meet it half way. The crimson lips were soon flecked with tiny sprinkles of egg white and icing sugar. Therese stared at them knowing suddenly the question, hearing her own heart beat in her ears. Outside the rain and the wind seemed to pick up speed, to pound heavily against the pavement, against the people hurrying by with broken umbrellas putting up resistance like crude skeleton flowers turning away from the sun. Now she knew the answer too.
Braving the elements they ran all the way back to the laundromat. The relentless, ridiculous weather made them cling to each other as if they were curled-up under an invisible shelter too snug for two. The door swung and stayed open, and Carol had to shut it forcefully behind them.
The wash cycle was on fast agitation when Therese grabbed Carol by the lapel of her jacket pulling her close, attaching her body to hers. The steady hum of the machine in her ears, she pressed her mouth against Carol’s lips parting them with her tongue. Hungrily probing the insides of her mouth Therese tasted the sour remnants of her pie, and while doing it, she lifted herself up on the machine. Churning under her buttocks the steel pedestal sent shivers up her spine, a tremolo right through her groin. She smiled at Carol eager to have her, to be had by her.
Carol pushed herself against Therese, against the machine, warming her hands underneath Therese’s sweater, forcing the bra cups out of their way to rub her hardened nipples. The sweater soon done away with, Carol marveled the sight in front of her leaving wet, lingering kisses on the sides of her breasts. Sensing the heightening excitement, the increase in her fervent licks and bites, Therese moaned out of pleasure, of wanting to open up entirely to Carol’s lustful determination.
Grateful for the bagginess of her sorry-looking pants for the first time ever, she unzipped them and guided Carol’s hand to meet her wetness. The blonde woman gasping out of happy surprise, Therese had a smug smile on her face when she threw back her head to enjoy the ride. The pants dropping to her ankles, she leaned back to let the steely surface of the machine startle her skin.
The streets were empty and the weather was mean but she couldn’t have cared less as Carol pulled the pants away altogether. Therese spread herself to Carol’s hot mouth descending on her, eating the length of her slit. Her tongue stroking her in accelerating pace Therese felt the machine start on its spin cycle. Vibrating under her the washer churned the underwear in its windowed drum as if turned on by what it was witnessing.
Therese had to grab the sides of the machine to stay balanced on top of it. More importantly she needed to maintain the contact with Carol’s eager, expert mouth working her over. The spinning intensifying, she panted feeling Carol’s fingers enter her forcefully. Her butt trembling against the last, frenzied vibrations while Carol fucked her with ruthless precision, she cried out when the jagged riptide of her orgasm finally surged through her sweet resistance.
“I think it’s done,” Carol breathed softly in her ear, kissing her, caressing her slack body. The washing machine had quietened down. “I think you’re right,” Therese smiled against her lips. “How about you? Do you need anything done?” she asked cupping Carol’s breast under her perfect shirt, brushing her lips languidly against her heated neck. “You’ve been so helpful it’s only fair I’ll do yours,” she murmured wrapping her bare legs tightly around Carol’s waist. “There’s something you could surely attend to,” Carol whispered in a hoarse voice, “In washing machine lingo it’s called the longest cycle with the most agitation...