"You work here?" "No, but I wash here when my washer at home is on the blink, and it is tonight, and your clothes won't come clean if you mix the dark's and the white's."You work here?" "No, but I wash here when my washer at home is on the blink, and it is tonight, and your clothes won't come clean if you mix the dark's and the white's." She didn't look like she had any tits at all, but then again, with that lumber jack shirt that was way too big for her slight body, it was hard to tell. But, her face was pretty. George resigned himself to pulling his clothing from the machines and piling up whites and darks in two piles, and the ones he wasn't too sure about in the third pile. "If you're going to wash that shirt, you'd better take the matches out of your top pocket," indicating with feminine pointed finger tip, the packet of rubbbers. "They arn't matches, I don't smoke." Her head cocked, "They look like matches, the pack is the same size as matches, whatever could it be if it's not matches?" George's adam's apple moved, wondering if she knew what was inside the packet. "It's just something for men." "Could't it also be something for women too, with lubricated tips?" She giggled, flirting with him and then moved away. George watched her body sway, ass moving fluidly as she walked across the washermat to another washing machine, wondering if she really had guessed the packet's contents. |