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I was chatting to Dangerous Lilly the other week about laundry.
Yes, even Blog Sex Goddesses have to wash their smalls.
I was telling her that in my new flat, the laundry arrangements were ‘like they are in American apartments with a communal laundry area’.
Lilly was a little confused because, apparently, life in the US is not always like ‘Friends’ and some of you do actually own your own washing machines and tumble dryers because using the basement facilities tends to end up with your thongs ending up in the pockets of the block’s pervie pilferer.
It rather spoiled my own particular fantasy of months of flirtatious gossip and long smouldering looks culminating in my being pushed face down over the washing machine and fucked by the best looking guy in the building to the accompaniment of a ‘fast spin’.
Have I been living in cloud cuckoo land?
Tell me your laundry stories – just this once, it’s ok to wash your dirty linen in public.
I don’t have any laundry stories.
I get mine done and I don;t want to have any laundry stories with Ms Lee
LOL, is that all the advertising you’re going to give her?
Actually, I think your fantasies are safe. I think most complexes (as opposed to tall buildings) have the communal laundry room.
I tend to do mine after midnight, when I know that there’s going to be available machines (we don’t have many here) because everyone else is asleep. Imagine the look of the cute college girl who came in as I was moving everything to the dryers around 2AM. She was just in her bra and panties, and looked like she had a guy waiting for her back at her place. She apparently figured everyone was asleep too!
Come on, Os, admit it, that happened back in 2002 and you’ve been lurking in the laundry room at 2am every night ever since for a repeat performance. I bet you have the whitest smalls in Montana ;P
I harboured similar fantasies when I lived in a place with a communal laundry. However, most of the female clientele were on the far side of 80. Tended to diminish the libido.
Whe we lived in University halls of residence, in a tower block right in the heart of London, the communal laundry was in the basement and the washing machines discharged their waste water into an open gully running along one wall. For amusement, we would take water pistols down with us, sit on the table, wait for one of the machines to start pumping out and then open fire with the water pistols to see how many cockroaches we could hit and cause to fall into the water.
On the first occasion I ever attempted to iron a shirt, one of the girls on our course grew so tired of watching me making such a mess of it that she uttered a lon-suffering ‘Give it here…’ and ironed it for me. I have never ironed a shirt since. Maybe she fancied me, I certainly fancied her.
I did not realize that public laundries still existed? I thought everybody had washing machines now, I can think if some fantasies of my own but they don’t include washing.