Wash Me I'm Dirty

Something I wrote this morning

The car wouldn’t start today.  My luck has just been so terrible lately that bad luck would not even describe what I have been going through.  I have two kids, one seven and the other thirteen who treat me like Casper the ghost.  Is it because I am more like their friend or because when I am with them I am not really there?  I finally get the car started and rejoice because I remember had half a stick of some jolly green in the ashtray.  It was smaller than I remembered.  After getting the car started and passing the gas station by my work I realized I started getting frustrated from the half asses buzz.  Pulling the car into the parking space across the street from my work, instead of right in front of the establishment, I realized that I had better re-up when I get out later.  Oh s**t that’s right, I can’t re-up because I do not have any money until Friday.  No green equals no green.  My glasses had smear and finger prints all over them, and the aggravation was intensified by my barely there reefer brain kiss.  It was like the ho had been going in for a French on my brain and had turned her head at the last minute so that I had only kissed her cheek instead.  My shirt had crusted mustard stains and what may have been a dried onion or bugger on the collar.  I must have grabbed the wrong black shirt and accidentally left the clean one on the hangar.  As I inserted the key to the laundry mat where I worked I realized either way I could be seen as a great walking advertisement.  I proceeded to go through the motions of my mundane opening duties (turning on the open sign, the lights, the air conditioner, turning on the t.v. set).  After this was done, I sat in the communal leather office chair in front of the security cameras and started to enact my morning ritual.  I took out my business management books from out of my back pack and set them on top of the refridgerator.  Making sure there was not any laundry to be done, I then set my laptop on the desk and turned my attention toward checking my email.  I must not have noticed the tiny ring of the door as the first customer of the day walked in.  I heard a faint clicking noise, and when I looked at the camera I saw a woman wearing heels carrying a knapsack making her way toward one of the three dollar machines.  Rising out of my chair I went stepped out of the office to see if I could be of any assistance to her.  All I could see was the red sole of her black high heeled shoes and the back of the black dress she was wearing had a zipper that ran all of the way down.  Her hair was up in a disheveled bun that was made up of various hues of red and brown.  “Good morning” were the words I heard coming out of my mouth, but they sounded like they were being spoken under water.  As she was shoving the last of her load in the machine, she turned around with such force that the only thing I remember seeing were two perfectly shaped milk sacks colliding with each other in such a way that they giggled and quivered long after her movement had stopped and she was standing still staring at me.  I had never seen anything so magnificent in my life, they spilled out the top of her dress and the crescent of a pale pink n****e was just barely perceptible.  For the love of everything holy, I could not stop staring.  In my defense, it was not my fault as I was genetically disposed to be this way.  Humans were made to find the mate who will most adequately be able to feed their young, and I had found my mate. Not only would she feed my young, but she would also be eating my young if things went according to my plan.  “Good morning mister”  I heard a pouty accented voice say.  I would have looked at her face, but I just could not stop staring at the round jibbly cutlets spilling forth from her shirt.  I was certain I could see a small blue vein which could only mean that the edge of her n****e was certainly there. 

I was getting embarrassed just staring at her chest like that , and I didn’t want her to think I was a pervert, so I started walking to the back to pretend like I was going to go check the bathroom or something.  The bathroom was pretty clean, no trash in the trashcan, and nothing on the toilet seat.  The toilet seat was left up though, and out of courtesy for the only customer in the store, I decided to put it down.  This act had just been ingrained in me as a child having to grown up with three sisters and all.  The clash that the seat made with the toilet must have inhibited me from hearing the clatter of her heels as she crept up behind me.  “So you like my titt-ays huh, daddy?”  My heart started fluttering, my butthole tightened up and I felt my little man jump just a bit.  I turned around slowly and realized, I was just imagining things, as I still saw the top of her messy bun going up and down over the tops of the machine as she put her clothes in.  F**k, I started sweating and told myself I need to get a f*****g grip and maybe get laid soon because I was really losing my f*****g mind.  Or maybe it was just because this lady had the nicest rack I had ever seen.   It was like they weren’t even being pushed up by a bra or anything.  It was like they were naturally that loquacious and their movements really moved me.  I was reflecting upon this while staring at her head going up and down above the machines, in the reflection of the bathroom mirror which looked out upon the store, and imagined that her head was bobbing up and down like that on my lap.  The emergence of a boner was imminent so I tightly closed my eyes and thought about my grandmother eating tapioca pudding and the trashcan outside of my house. Walking past her on the way to the office, I gave her a side glance and saw that she was bent over with almost her entire chest falling out of her dress.  Turning my head I saw that her breast facing me was entirely exposed and that as she was putting her clothes into the machine her n****e kept grazing the cold metal door of  the washer and was hard and round.  Her breast was like a water balloon being bounced off of a table and with each bounce her n****e became more prominent.  The pinkness of it reminded me of new born skin and I could not believe this was actually happening in the laundry mat today.  Boy, I was happier than a pig in s**t that I came into work today with this free peep show and all.  I pretended like I didn’t notice and walked into the office and locked the door.  I walked over the camera screen and saw that she must have noticed her b**b being out because she had fixed the mistake and was now putting quarters into the machine. 

I really needed to calm down, so I took out my Buisness management book and started on the assignment that was to be due that night.  My hand shook as I turned to the proper page, and I kept fighting the urge to look at the camera because I knew that I had to keep all of my dirty thoughts at bay.  It is not just everyday that someone comes to the laundry mat wearing heels and with tits like that.  I mean they really spoke to me, and I  knew that no one does laundry in an outfit like that for no reason.  I mean, there really has to be something going on here.  Suddenly paranoid thoughts started creeping into my brain as I looked down at the boring black print of my textbook.  What if this is a set up?  What is she is a homeless hooker doing her clothes before she goes and turns her next round of tricks?  What if she is a cop?  Or worse of all, what if she is a man?  These thoughts were bouncing around in my brain when I heard the ring of the door and saw two more customers enter the building.  These were regulars so in a way it put me at ease.  I looked at the camera that was watching the woman and saw her walking toward the front door as I heard her heels announcing her exit.  I glanced down at the page I was on, and realized the homework questions were on the next page so just as I began to turn it, I heard a light tapping on the door.  “Excuse me mister, one more ting”.  I knew that she meant to say thing but it ended up coming out as ting due to her accent, and I still hadn’t quite placed where she could be from.  Swallowing very hard, I stood up and opened the door.  “I vant to thank you for not trying to f**k my p***y”.  She said with her strange accent.  My mind just reeled, and I quickly looked around the corner to see if the other customers heard.  Maybe I did not hear what she said quite right.  “Excuse me?”  I looked into her eyes to see what could possibly be going on with this woman.  “I sed, I vant to thank you for you do not try to f**k my p***y.”  Her eyes were a sparkly brown with covergirl eyelashes and when she spoke her lips moved like she was blowing a kiss.  She was certainly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, especially in this part of South Carolina.  “Wh-wh-what do you mean?” I stammered looking around me in a paranoid daze, just waiting for the shadow of a swat team or something to come and bust me for soliciting a prostitute.  “My p***y” she said softly, taking a manicured hand with long red nails patting the area between her legs.  She was so close to me I could feel her breath and smell her perfume that was something flowery.  It was at this point that I did something I never should have done, I reached under her dress and felt for the “p***y” she continually kept speaking of.  I felt a wet gash between her legs as my hand pressed between her two cheeks.  She was not wearing any underwear and as I did so, she screamed and the customers in the back of the store looked our way.  Back up a bit here, I actually did not reach under her skirt but that is where my mind was going as she patted her vagina with her doll hand. I thought about my kids and how disappointed they would be if their father was incarcerated for taking liberties with a woman who was half dressed and up in his face talking about p***y.  “Oh, not a problem” I said as I backed inside of the office trying to send her the signal that I was about to shut the door.  “I give you my card” she said.  She reached into a small clutch she was carrying and handed me a card with her name and website on it.  Her name was Gregorina Ballorina.  This b***h surely has to be a dude I thought to myself.  She click-clacked her fine a*s back to her car and I went promptly to the computer to go to her website.  I knew she had to be some kind of porn star or something.  Her website a foreign one and I did not have the normal .com ending like American websites have.  What I saw on the website blew my f*****g mind!

Author's Note

This story ain't done....

Reviews

[The Storyteller]

I will agree something dirty walked in the Laundry mat. There was moments when the story first began when I didn't understand what you meant. Like the phrase "barely there reefer brain " or "a French on my brain"'. I feel lost at the end. Am I supposed to know what "Gregorina Ballorina" means? Is there anything special about the women other than eye candy for the character?

[Trevor Barnett]

Brilliant write! The situation feels so real, even though this would probably not happen, because the development of the main character is great. Can't wait to see the finished version.