Saturday afternoon means laundry time. I hated doing laundry. I hated the fact that I had to go all the way down to the basement of our building. It was cold down there, not to mention boring. There was usually no one down there when I did my laundry. This time was different. There was a chic there. “Hello,” she said as I walked down the last few steps, “I just moved in.” “Welcome to the building. I’m Trish and I hate this laundry room!” We both laughed. She flashed me a smile, “My name’s Monica.” We made idle chit chat as we waited for our clothes to wash. She just moved here from England, was single and didn’t believe in panties. She was funny and was rapidly growing on me. She and I met like that for a while, both always being the only ones down there Saturday mornings.

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A few Saturday morning’s later I headed down to start some laundry and there she was in only a t-shirt. At first I thought she must have ran out of clothes, but dismissed that idea since she never had a problem before and was there last Saturday. She turned around and smiled. “I thought that was you, Trish.” “Who else would it be? It’s just us on Saturdays.” Then I got the hint. She was down there not to do laundry but waiting on me. She sashayed over to me. She leaned forward and pressed her body against mine as she reached behind me and grabbed her detergent. The smell of her mixed with the smell of the laundry room and the feeling of her perky breasts pressing against mine made me tingle all over. I watched her add her soap to the load. “Oops!” She had dropped the soap scoop onto the floor. She bent over, her t-shirt climbed further up her body as she reached down to pick up the scoop. Monica’s perfect round ass and her pussy lips nestled between her thighs were in full view. I couldn’t help but stare and try to keep from drooling.

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