Almudena was filling the automatic dryer that Wednesday, as was her weekly laundry day routine for the past 19 years. She was a beautiful 38 year old brunette, with big brown eyes and well defined facial shapes, a well-preserved figure thanks to her mother's good genetics and daily exercise routine, coupled with the healthy eating regimen she implemented for herself and her family, which was reflected in both Robert her husband and Tina her only daughter.
The house boasted a pristine condition since Almudena had a temperamental and obsessive behavior for order and cleanliness, which were part of her modest personality. For she was very careful about manners and respect. Both Robert and Tina had to leave their shoes at the entrance so as not to dirty the house.
Tina and Almudena enjoyed walking around the house barefoot, as they found it extremely relaxing for their feet to have that freedom.
Early that morning, she said goodbye to Tina who was leaving on a school trip and would be back until Monday, Robert would call at noon to remind her of their unavoidable Wednesday night meeting, so he wouldn't be home until very late, so she didn't have to wait up for him.
Almudena was already accustomed to the yoke of the predictable Wednesday routine, Robert would religiously attend their weekly meeting at the gentlemen's club with his friend Fred, which ended late into the night, and she learned to tolerate the way the emotionless marital monotony was at ease in her tedium of loving and living.
On the weekend she would put on a nice dress and Robert would take her to dinner in the city and with any luck, there would be a brief, mechanized lovemaking session on the way back, corresponding to the awkward, unwritten protocol of a monotonous married life.
Almudena momentarily wandered in her mind as she extended the ironing board and laid out one of her husband's shirts, dreaming of the youthful passion of her temperamental start with Robert in that modest apartment when the night was insufficient for them to be together and they both returned to work the next morning, enveloped by the weakness and exhilaration of having reached together the erogenous heights that no erotic novel for lonely women could ever describe.
The doorbell rang and Almudena put aside the iron to place that white shirt on a hook to go to the door. She was glad to see that it was her friend Sandy, the only person who could really understand that tedious suburban drama because she was also one of its protagonists.
The two spent entire afternoons talking about raising their daughters and how to prolong the electricity under the sheets with their husbands on the weekend, when they returned from those dinners in the city.
-Laundry Wednesday again?" said Sandy with a smirk.
Almudena shrugged and nodded resignedly as she invited her in.
Sandy lived next door and was about 40 years old, similar in height to Almudena, had electrifying honey-colored eyes, a mischievous smile with the vivacity of a naughty girl, long wavy blonde hair that was flaunted combed according to the canons of correctness of elegant suburban ladies, full lips that generously emanated phrases pregnant with kindness, typical of the sweet and gentle charisma of Sandy, who always sought to be pleasant to distract the attention generated by the roundness of her hips, which widened slightly after giving birth to her twin daughters; Flora and Maura who left for the same end of school trip with Almudena and Robert's daughter Tina.
-Don't tell me anything Almudena, today is Wednesday of the inescapable gentlemen's club where Robert and Fred will be wasting their time all night and impregnating their clothes with the smell of tobacco. I'm tired of washing shirts smelling of Cuban tobacco.
Almudena: We shouldn't complain, they spend the whole week working and thanks to that, we don't lack anything.
Sandy: You are partly right, but you know well that we are prey to the routine that brought our childhood illusions; to have a nice house with white wooden fences, a nice garden, a formal husband and splendid provider, beautiful and healthy daughters, an affordable mortgage about to be concluded. As well as the ample comfort of those tight-fitting granny panties.
Almudena was blushing the instant Sandy, with just two deft movements circled her hips, unbuttoned the skirt and with her hands brought it all the way to the floor.
"Sandy. What's the matter with you?"
Sandy was on her knees before her extending her that mischievous, playful look of a girl about to do mischief, she nimbly stood up holding Almudena's skirt and teasingly tossed it on the sofa. She then ran her hands over the belt of her cross-dress, which in a few seconds was flying through the air to fall on the skirt lying on the sofa.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of honey, look. We both wear the same model, now take off that blouse."
Sandy led Almudena towards a full-length mirror located in the corridor of the house, both women were standing looking at the image that the reflection of that large mirror showed them.
They were both wearing white full-cut panties and a matching underwire bra with lace trim on the cups, They were the comfortable and functional garments that an adult suburban woman would choose to wear under her clothes every day.
See, you and I are the same, and I assure you that if you put on my bra you will see that we are the same size, she took it off and held it out to her friend who shyly took it blushing, as she looked at the round bare breasts of her blonde neighbor, and they both tried on the garments verifying Sandy's words.
"We have exactly the same thing going on in life - take a good look at us!
We look like our mothers and even wear the same boring style of panties they did, when we swore we'd have fun and be different in those crazy youthful moments when we set our bras on fire. And what do we have now? We look like an ad for panties from the Sears catalog for ladies who live in the suburbs."
Almudena became pensive and an image thudded through her imagination as it ran amok;
The suburb glistened under a warm and beautiful afternoon, from the beautiful and cozy houses that make up that residential area, out the door came the demure and loving mothers of families dressed in their pretty dresses and a delicate white apron, adorned with matching ruffles, each walked elegantly and confidently on her high heels, down the walkway leading to the street, past their pretty white-painted wooden fences, each looking straight ahead at her neighbors standing on the opposite sidewalk and smiling at each other.
All the ladies bowed to the neighbor across the street, and then their hands rested on their aprons to delicately remove them and hang them on the white painted wooden fence.
The distance between the housewives decreased as a synchronized step brought them closer to each other, smiling and in a friendly way, full of courtesy now they were so close to greet each other, the traditional cut dresses and terribly similar to each other, were only distinguishable by the colors. Each woman stretched out her arms until she touched the shoulders of the one in front of her, in one movement those arms tore off the dress of her neighbor and they were thrown to the floor.
The smiling ladies, now in their white full-cut panties and matching bra, looked evenly matched, embraced each other affectionately as they saw how much they had in common with each other, moved in a line and gracefully seemed to make formations in a dance like in a musical from the golden age of Hollywood.
Almudena suddenly snapped out of her reverie the moment Sandy threw her bra to the floor and removed her panties indicating to her friend to do the same, while Almudena removed her panties, Sandy occupied her hands freeing her friend's hair, which was up in a stylish and stately hairstyle so distinctively suburban. Sandy also released her blonde, wavy hair.
Now do you see the difference? You and I still look similar to each other, but this way the routine yoke that we both choose to keep is not evident. And I don't mean that we leave this comfortable bourgeois life, I want us to give excitement to this and take back our sensuality. How long has it been since you've looked like this for your husband? I've forgotten how long it's been since we dressed up as "I Love Lucy"," Sandy said in a serious tone.
Almudena remained silent and was embarrassed by the fact that the routine had been perpetuated with Saturday night sessions where the lights were always off.
Almudena: Take a good look at me, my hips are as big as yours, and my tits aren't what they used to be.
Sandy: Look at you, you have nice tits with pink areolas. They're not like a stripper's or a playboy bunny's, but they're still very nice tits that any man would like to fondle.
