Water gushed from the top of the washing machine, slopping mercilessly onto the floor.
"Shit, shit, shit."
I danced around it, reaching for the cutoff valve as my clothes got drenched in cold, soapy water.
It was almost midnight, just about the only time of day I could ever find an open machine in the small laundry room of the apartment complex. I just wanted to get this done and get to sleep. But instead, I got to deal with this.
Standing in the puddle, I allowed myself a few more swears and then I switched the machine to "Drain" and grabbed an unwashed towel from my laundry basket.
I heard another person enter room behind me.
"Uh oh. Need a hand?"
I turned to see a 20-something brunette wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt and glasses, holding a basket that was overflowing with laundry.
"I think I've got it," I said over my shoulder. "Thanks though."
She set the basket down on a chair and watched me for a sec.
"That machine did the same thing to me last month," she said. "I told the office, but I guess we don't pay them enough to fix things around here."
I laughed.
"I don't think they'll fix anything unless they smell a lawsuit," I said.
I stood and kicked the towel around a little, stomping on it to sop up the last bit of water. I exhaled and looked up at the girl, giving her a shrug.
"What are you gonna do?" I said.
"Burn the place down?" she said.
We both chuckled.
"I like the way you think," I said.
I watched the girl as she bent to load the machine next to mine. She was slender, I saw, with long legs and a cute butt. I made sure not to stare; I'm not a creep, and anyway, I was taken.
I set about the annoying task of transferring the load of sudsy, wet clothes to the third and only remaining machine in the room. Without thinking much about it, I tugged off my wet t-shirt and threw it in with the rest. Might as well, I thought. I decided to keep the wet shorts on. One can't just go stripping to one's underwear in front of strangers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the girl glancing at me.
I'm well-built, but I'm not a bodybuilder by any stretch. Still, being checked out by a pretty stranger was enough to make me feel like I was in high school again. It didn't help that she was probably a decade younger than I was.
I felt a surge in my groin, and I knew I needed to distract myself. If there was an ideal place to sprout an erection, I knew that standing in an open room, wearing shorts, was not it.
I quickly picked up an empty basket to hide my bulge and turned to the row of dryers, emptying a load of whites from the one that had just buzzed. I carried the clothes to a corner by the window where a large table sat, and I started to fold.
As I did, I was aware of an interesting silence in the small room. Even though she'd been chatty before, the girl had now fallen quiet.
The window in front of me looked out on the dark lawn of the complex, and in the glass I had a near-mirrorlike view of the room behind me in the reflection. Along the ceiling ran a greenish-blue fluorescent light, and she was standing squarely under its bright wash.
She clearly hadn't noticed that I could see her. She had one leg crossed over the other, leaning back against the washing machine and biting her lip, arms folded. And she was staring lasers directly at my butt.
I smiled to myself. What a time to be alive.
--
The next day, I took my laptop out to the pool. I needed the change of pace. I liked my apartment, but any four walls can get oppressive if you stare at them long enough.
A large faded green umbrella offered some shade at a glass table, and I sat down and got as comfortable as I could. A light breeze carried the smell of the ocean to my nostrils. I started to work, and I quickly lost all sense of space and time.
I hadn't even noticed the girl until I'd been working there about ten minutes.
But now I saw her: just a stone's skip across the corner of the pool from where I sat. And boy, did I see her. She was stretched out on a lounge chair in a skimpy blue bikini, her pale skin glazed with a sheen of sweat. She had dark sunglasses on, and a book splayed open on her stomach. She might have fallen asleep, I thought.
I stood and approached her. She didn't move.
"You're gonna get a nice book tan," I said with a little chuckle.
She started, rousing awake and pulling her glasses up on top of her head.
She looked down at the book, then up at me.
"Oh!" She laughed to herself, setting the book aside. "Um, thanks."
"Don't mention it," I said, smiling. "I'm Kent."
"From last night," she said. "I recognize you."
"Ah yes, my misadventures with laundry."
She nodded.
"Title of my memoir," she said, giggling. I laughed. Then she sat forward and stuck out her hand. "I'm Sam. Nice to meet you Kent."
I shook her hand and made a gesture toward the pool house.
"Well Sam, I'm getting a snack, want anything?"
"I'm good," she said with a shy smile. "Thanks."
After I'd taken my seat again and started to work, I quickly realized it was going to be harder than I'd thought to get anything done. At the slightest shift of Sam's pretty legs, my eyes would leap across the pool and rest on her body. I'd chide myself each time and glance straight back at the screen again, but I was sure she must have noticed me ogling her once or twice.
She lay there for another half hour or so, giving me an eyeful, before she finally stood, picked up her bag and towel and headed back to her apartment with a wave in my direction. I waved back at her and smiled.
An hour later, the skies turned ugly and dark, and I quickly packed my things up as a gentle rain started to fall. No sooner had I made it back to my apartment and shut the door behind me, than the skies opened and unleashed a massive, torrential rain storm.
That was the moment I realized that I had left the sun roof open on my Range Rover.
Grabbing a windbreaker from a nearby hook and pulling it on, I jumped back out the door and raced down the steps, water hammering my head and shoulders as I ran across the lawn toward the parking lot.
I yanked open the driver-side door and looked up at the ceiling of the car. I let out a sigh of relief: I'd been wrong, the sunroof had been closed after all. I swung my legs inside and pulled the door shut behind me, sitting in the dry car and letting my pulse settle. I wasn't too anxious to run back through the rain.
Better to sit out the storm for a minute, I thought. Maybe it wouldn't last long.
As I sat staring out the rain-streaked windshield, I saw the door of a nearby first-floor apartment open and a girl stumble out. A man loomed in the doorway behind her. He screamed something at her before he slammed the door shut, leaving her alone on the stoop in shorts and a t-shirt, with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
I blinked and realized at once that the girl was Sam.
She looked around the complex for a second, then glanced up at the sky in a look of complete despair, and then her body sagged and she crossed to a nearby flight of steps, sat down, and started to cry. Rain angled in under the high eave and soaked the place where she sat, drenching her hair and clothes and the cloth bag. But from where I sat, she didn't seem to notice.
I bit my lip, weighing the situation. After a beat, I knew what I had to do. I pocketed my keys, pulled the hood of my windbreaker up over my head, and ducked back out into the rain.
"Sam!" I yelled across the grass as I jogged toward her.
She glanced up, startled. I waved, hoping she recognized me through the torrent.
As I neared her, I saw that her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and the look on her face was of a tired, spent girl.
I offered her my hand; a rainstorm was no place to hold a conversation.
"Come on!" I said.
She let me help her up. I pulled off my windbreaker and draped it over her head, placing an arm around her shoulder and running alongside her as we headed toward my apartment.
Once inside the door, I stamped my shoes dry and took the windbreaker from Sam, hanging it on the wall beside the door. I quickly retrieved two towels from the bathroom and offered one to her.
