Intro: This is a chapter of the My Name is Heather series. These are meant to be read in sequential order, and may not be understandable otherwise."
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I'm a bit confused as to my sexual orientation. Although I had fooled around with a couple of girls in school, I have always thought of myself as being heterosexual.
My name is Heather; I'm a copy editor for a local publisher. Recently, in spite of believing I am straight, I have become involved with another woman. The relationship is rather one-sided, though, as I haven't been able to reciprocate sexually when she pleasures me.
A little over a month ago, she had to go to Europe for business reasons, but before she left, she helped me find an apartment closer to the downtown area where I work, and we traded keys to our respective apartments.
There's a laundry room in the basement of the twelve-unit apartment building that I moved into. The four pairs of washers and dryers were normally busy during the first three weekdays and on weekends, so I do my laundry on Thursday afternoon, after work. It was the only time I find the units idle, and I made that a routine.
Sometimes, a very attractive woman from the first floor washed her clothes at the same time that I did. It was okay if I only needed two washers, but sometimes I needed three and there was a conflict. However, I was too timid to ask her to do hers later in the afternoon.
After a few weeks, I finally decided to do my laundry two hours later, but she showed up and took two washers again. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something nasty to her.
So far, we hadn't spoken to each other during these silent laundry battles, I decided that, maybe, if I got to know her, we could discuss a schedule that would be mutually agreeable.
So I swallowed my pride and said, "We live in the same building; we should at least introduce ourselves. I'm Heather; I live on the second floor in 2C."
"Hi. I'm Paula. I live in 1A. It's nice to meet you." She seemed sincere about that, which was a surprise from someone in this city. "You haven't lived in the building very long, have you?" asked Paula.
"No, I moved here from another part of town about a month ago. Have you lived here long, Paula?" Heather asked.
"Six months or so," she said, turning to face me.
Her t-shirt had a very suggestive slogan for one of the breast cancer awareness organizations across the front, accentuating her pert breasts:
If you don't check them I will.
My mouth went dry at the idea of following the slogan's suggestion and I found it hard to speak for a moment.
"So, what do you do?" I tried again.
"I'm a secretary for a company downtown," she was still being very vague. "And you?"
"I'm a copy editor for a publisher. I read and edit manuscripts." I replied.
"Oh, maybe you've edited manuscripts for my boss, Adelene Sterling. She writes technical instruction manuals."
"No, the name isn't familiar." I admitted.
"Heather, I have to ask you something, it's a bit embarrassing. The tenants here have a pact that we can wash the clothes we're wearing. Would that be alright with you?" Paula asked.
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure I know what you mean. Of course it's okay with me if you wash all your clothes," said Heather with a quizzical tone in her voice.
"Maybe I didn't phrase the question properly. Usually, it's the family in one unit who are using all the washers at once," Paula tried. "You and I are the only singles and live alone. Here read this card. That should explain what I mean."
Paula took an eight by eleven card from a shelf and handed it to Heather. The card read in large print: 'Please don't open the door. I am washing ALL my clothes and I'm undressed. I'll be out as soon as my clothes are dried and I can get dressed again.'
"Wow! Will you be taking off all of your clothes, Paula? I can come back later if you want privacy. How long do you need?" asked Heather.
"We use this room as a retreat. That's why there's a TV, a small refrigerator, books, and magazines in here. People can get away from their kids or wife or husband for a while. About two hours. I stay here because someone might take my clothes out of the units and do their own. That's happened before. If I keep the door closed and stay here, that won't happen," Paula explained. "I usually take all my clothes off, but I could keep my underwear on if you'd be uncomfortable otherwise."
Heather's mouth was very dry. She had been ogling this woman and found her extremely attractive. Paula was a little shorter than Heather, with a narrow waist, wide hips and high firm breasts. Heather could practically see Paula's braless breasts through the thin T-shirt she was wearing. Her almond shaped eyes, deep black hair and high cheekbones made for a beautiful face. Heather became excited about seeing Paula naked.
"Um, um, uh," stammered Heather, not because she didn't want Paula to strip; just the opposite. She
wanted
her to take her clothes off, but was embarrassed about saying so.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Heather. You were here first. I'll come back later," exclaimed Paula.
"Oh no, Paula. It would be a pain for you to have to come back later. No. It's okay. I mean you can take your clothes off. I won't mind if that's what you do when you do laundry. I was just taken aback. It was so sudden that I didn't have time to think. By all means, take your clothes off. That sounds funny. Oh, Paula, just do what you're used to doing."
Heather thought she was about to hyperventilate imagining Paula naked. Heather still thought of herself as heterosexual. How could the thought of this woman nude cause such stirrings in her?
Paula turned her back and pulled off her blue jeans. She was wearing thong panties and her bottom was round and firm. Heather stared at those luscious cheeks and felt herself getting wet. Paula pulled off her T-shirt and her C-cup breasts were firm. They looked like two large pears pointing straight at Heather. Paula had a bit of a belly, but it was round and feminine.
