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I could see through the windows of the Laundromat that no one was there. Good.

I got my clothing out of the back of my Taurus. I was conscious of the draft going through my brief running shorts. God, I felt embarrassed and there wasn't even anyone looking!

I'm not usually the type to go "commando" so to speak. I just had a bit of a problem the night before. I'd done a little too much drinking and crashed as soon as I got home; didn't realize that I didn't have any underwear for the next day. When I got up, I smelled of beer. Had to take a shower. And there was no way in Hell I was going to put on a dirty pair of boxer briefs. Yuck.

There I was: Saturday morning, washing clothes. Reading a paper and eating some biscuits and gravy from Burger King. One load of whites, two of colors. Not much longer then. It had all gone in the washer already.

The bells told me of another entrance. I rotated my head to know what I was up against.

Damn. Something curvy was walking in the door, a basket of laundry under one arm. Some Tide under the other.

...

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