I am seated on a plastic bench, focusing on nothing and everything all at once. A well worn copy of, American Psycho, by Bret Easton Ellis in my hands. There were post-it notes in the book to mark some of my favorite passages; those passages having to do with gruesome torture and sex all at once. It shames me a little to know that every time I read these passages that I get turned on, even though the sex in the book always ends up with gut wrenching torture. The smell of laundry soap and fabric freshener are starting to give me a headache, or could it be the heat in this building, or the fact that I keep staring at the clothes in the dryers tumbling, tumbling, tumbling.
The door opens and the faint smell of fresh, outside air mixed with cigarette smoke waifs in the building. I think briefly about going outside and joining the smoking group but the sign to my left catches my eye:
"Please Do Not Leave Laundry In Washers or Dryers Unattended. The owners Of The Establishment Will Not Be Responsible For Stolen Items."
I'm not sure why the sign makes me stay seated, maybe I'm too obedient. Though my eyes have gone back to focusing on the clothes in the dryer, I know others in the building have turned with bored curiosity to see who has just joined them in the act of washing clothing. I do not have to look; I can see through the reflection on the machines stacked on the far wall that the person is male. I catch his scent. It's a cheap smelling cologne; I can't put my finger on exactly which one it is, but it at least smells good.
My eyes now focus on the male's back. He has blocked my view of the clothes in the dryer. He's of average height, weight, looks like lots of other male's roaming around the city. The only difference is he is not wearing a baseball cap, like so many other male's don. He takes a seat next to me and smiles, nodding his head. I smile back and turn my head towards the dryers...
The room has gone empty. There are no other persons; all the washing machine lids have been closed and I see myself sitting on one. I'm naked; my legs spread, my feet propped up on the washers beside the one I'm sitting on. The man's head is between my legs and my hips grind down on his face. I can hear myself making soft cooing sounds as I lean back and prop my elbows on the washers. My hands come up and begin to squeeze my ample breasts. My fingers catch my pink, hard nipples between them and I twist and pinch as the sounds coming from me get louder. The male looks up, a slight smile on his face as he flicks his tongue across my hard clit. I moan, "you lick my pussy so good, Mister."
He buries his face in my cunt and hums sending the vibration of his lips into my clit and making me throw my head back. He looks up, "it's so sweet, I could lick it all day."
I buck against his mouth as he sucks my clit into it. My moans get louder; my body starts to tremble; I whisper, "I'm going to come. I'm going to come." My whispers get louder, turning into yelling as I..
I jump and hear, "Miss? Miss?"
I feel a warm hand on my knee and blink a couple of times, turning to the sound of the voice. It's the male, of course, and he's smiling at me quizzically.
"You dropped your book."
"Oh."
I look in his eyes and pull my stare a way quickly. I am convinced that he will be able to read the entire fantasy if I looked at him too long.
