“Do you happen to have an extra quarter?”
It was late and hot. Despite my stratagem of waiting until the middle of the night to do my laundry in the dingy, non-air conditioned shop, the temperature still seemed to hover in the 90s. Normally, I didn’t mind the solitude of the laundromat at 3am. It was usually empty, maybe one or two older women who worked nights at the hospital, stopping on their way home. Tonight there was only him, damn it.
I’d seen him here several times. Always by himself, he was the kind of boy you knew was trouble. He had a grin like the Cheshire cat, rumpled hair and dimples that made you want to lose your tongue in them. And here I was, one fucking quarter short, forced to ask him for help.
“Sure, but it will cost you,” he said flippantly. I rolled my eyes and went to turn only to feel his firm grab on my arm, the cool metal of the quarter pressing into my flesh. His touch went straight to my gut and I felt sucker punched by lust.
“Thanks,” I mumbled and quickly pushed it through the slot, selecting my settings and pressing my glasses up, hoping to quickly return to my book and away from the awkwardness and warmth his continued stare was imposing on me. He followed me across the room, each of us making our moves across the checkerboard floor. Lost somewhere between annoyed and anxious I turned, boxing him back towards the wall. I ran my hand through my hair, a sure sign of my nerves. I was tall. He was taller. I looked up, giving him my most forbidding glare. “Was there something you needed?” I choked out.
He grinned again. His lopsided smile reminded me of my often failed attempts to make pancake stacks. “Yes.” he drawled before looping his fingers through my belt and pulling me to him. Like a tumbleweed I was turned about, his body pressing me to the wall only seconds before his mouth found mine. His kiss was like lava, slow and fiery. He tasted like Marlboro’s and whiskey. His tongue grabbed mine and began to swirl, pulling me into a Bermuda Triangle of touch that my sluggish body couldn’t respond to.
His assault weakened and I found a breath, only to realize that in the time it took to breathe he had shed his shirt and had mine halfway to my head. I watched it flutter to the ground, watched the veins in his forearm as he effortlessly lifted me, his hands grabbing my ass through my jeans. I felt his fingernails poke through to my flesh and I relished how my ass cheek seemed to fit perfectly into his large hands. I wrapped my legs and arms around him- anything to bring the devil closer.
With his lips still cemented to mine, he moved us across the room and set me down atop the folding table. He undressed me quickly, shedding me of my flip flops and pants while his painters tongue drew watercolor images down my throat and over my nipples. He reached between my thighs, pushing my thong to the side and coating his fingers with nectar before bringing them to his lips.
“I have to taste you,” he moaned. His hands parted my lips, breaking me open like a fresh peach, ready to be eaten. His tongue went to my clit -He was a starving man, lapping and feasting on my sensitive nubs. I pressed his head further into me, grinding my hips on his nose. My head was tossing back and forth of its own accord when I noticed the headlights on the street and realized we were naked before a wall of glass. The exhilaration of being watched sent me over the waterfall, cascading down into rushing waters. My ears burned with the thundering of my heart and I screamed and whimpered at the pleasure his tongue was bringing.
Before I could fully recover, he was thrusting into me, his pants heaped around his ankles. I grabbed the flimsy plastic of the upper table, the second tier stabbing into my back, no doubt bruising me. I struggled to grip his hips with my legs but the power of his thrusts combined with the jack rabbit intensity was more than I could constrain. He continued his sworded assault for what seemed like hours, my orgasms continuing hard and fast, until he found his own volcanic eruption and emptied his seed over what remained of my thong and belly. He dipped his head into my breasts. I felt his beaded sweat pond into mine. I heard the rough heaves of our breath find a syncopated rhythm as we struggled to regain sanity. He pulled from me, his sparkling eyes dancing in laughter.
He looked at my soiled panties and the remainder of my clothes strewn about the floor of the less than well-kept room. “Guess you’ll need some more quarters,” he said.