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For starters, it wasn't deliberate.

Okay, it was deliberate. But it was also a sort of joke. I'd had bit of an accident while cleaning my aquarium (don't ask); and so many of my clothes (and other stuff - towels, kitchen stuff... but not, thankfully, bedding) either got wet or dirty that the easiest thing to do seemed to be to take everything down to the laundry room in the basement and wash it all. It was gone midnight, the place was silent....

So I there I was, in my fake fur, bra and panties, loading everything into the machines when I thought - "no-one's around... why not?" It was a longish coat, completely decent... so I stripped off my bra and panties too, popped them in with everything else. And I was just about to head upstairs again when....

A voice behind me. "Good evening."

I turned. "Hi." He stood there with his own bags of laundry spilling out around him, desperately trying to balance them as I pulled my baskets off the one table. "I'm sorry... just a moment."

He laughed. "No hurry"; then grinned stupidly as one bag toppled over, spilling out contents that seemed to be exclusively t-shirts, socks and underwear.

I hesitated. Not being one for pawing through a stranger's dirty smalls, you understand. I watched as he scooped everything up, then - the least I could do - I held open the door to one of the washers and stepped aside as he toppled everything in.

"I wasn't expecting there to be in anyone down here," he said, and I smiled. "Neither was I." He turned and gave me a quick once-over. "So that's not your usual look?"

I plunged my hands into the pockets, bunching the coat tight around me. "No, furs and laundry rooms really don't go together."

"I dunno, I think it's a good look." I felt his eyes on my bare legs, and it was fairly obvious what he was thinking. The same thing I would have, if I'd come across a guy in the same state.

He stretched out a hand. "I'm Paul, by the way."

I resisted removing my hands from my pockets. "Chrissie. I've not seen you before, I don't think."

"Just moved in yesterday...." Ah, I had noticed that. First floor, himself and two cats, close to work... it's amazing how much information people give out in laundry rooms to three-quarter naked women at 12.30 at night. We chatted for a while, just neighborly stuff... what time the mailman usually arrives; how long maintenance takes to fix things; sound proofing, or the lack thereof... the normal stuff.

"Oh, and these machines take forever," I told him. I glanced at my watch. "I was going to go back upstairs."

"Yeah, me too." And then, "I have to ask, though. Do you always do your laundry dressed like this?"

I laughed and gave him the edited highlights of my ... accident. He laughed, sympathized... "I was lucky," he said. "I had one last clean T-shirt and these...." He gestured at a pair of running shorts. For the first time, I noticed no socks. And, if I'm not mistaken, no boxers, either. Which, and I don't know why, seemed somehow significant.

"Or we could just stay here. My place is a tip and I'm sure you've still got boxes all over the place."

He grinned. "Yeah. Two nearly-naked people sneaking in and out of each other's rooms in the middle of the night... I don't know what any of my neighbors are like, but I'm sure that wouldn't give a very good impression."

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