'Laundry Day', she sighed wishing the tax refund had cleared last week and the washer was fixed. She hated going to the laundromat, not only cause she had to get dressed and actually leave the house, but also because the laundromat was horrid. The smell of stale smoke still permeated the place despite the ban on smoking in public almost twenty years ago. 'How does a stench linger for that long'. It wasn't just the smell though, it was the judgment. There were two types of people there, either the lifers, the ones that didn't have their own washer and probably never would. They looked at her like she was some lost stuck up bitch, ok, so they were right, but they didn't have to give her the constant glares of jealousy and contempt.
The other types were the stuck up bitches that went to pick up their laundry from the service, the ones that could afford to have some one else wash the stains out of their panties for them. And then there was Dia, somewhere in between the two. Unaccepted by those that waited on their laundry, and looked down on by the laundry service people.
She went back to the getting dressed part of the trip and decided if it was going to be a miserable trip, it would be minimal effort on her part, she admired herself in the mirror for a moment, she looked hot, but no surprise, she always looked hot, 130 lbs, 5'10 and D cups were spectacular of course, but what set her apart was her long lustrous, deep purple hair, her pride and joy. Her nipples were hard, it almost seemed like a shame to cover her nudity.
'Minimal effort' she said to herself and slid into a white hoodie. She checked her ass making sure it was covered, barely, but enough, as long as she didn't bend over too much.
She arrived and carried the first basket in, lingerie. As expected, the normal dregs were there, checking her out as they always did, she could feel their eyes crawling over her. She looked at one, probably around seventy, unshaven wearing the typical uniform of the disenfranchised, jeans and a Steelers jacket, 'Go Steelers' she said to him hopefully.
'Mmmm' was all he said, making no effort to hide his gaze as his eyes traveled up and down her body.
And there it was, the first tinge of excitement, the humiliation of putting on a show for these lifers. Almost as if summoned from beyond a pair of her panties fell from the basket on to the floor.
They both looked at the panties, of course they were sexy white lace ones, nothing mundane every touched her pussy. They looked at each other and he leered, 'you dropped something there sweetie. '
'No shit' she thought as she answered sweetly, "oh thank you Sir.." she blinked, 'Sir, where the hell did that come from Dia' she asked herself. Decision time, she could squat down, knowing that the hoodie would rise up exposing her pussy to him, she could bend over, showing her ass to anyone behind her, of she could kneel on the disgusting floor in front of this man. 'In for a penny, in for a pound', a quick glance over her shoulder revealed the attendant, a dour middle aged woman already looking at her with disdain, just looking for an excuse to boot her out. She spun and bent over to pick them up. She felt her hoodie rise up and knew he was getting a look at everything she had. Her night job as a stripper kicked in and she wiggled her ass at him before retrieving them. She felt her face turn red as she stood back up, she was getting turned on.
"Mmmm" was all he said.
"Mmmm?" she asked him, a sultry drawl to the wordless exchange.
"Mmmm indeed Slut," the attendant added crisply from behind her causing her to jump in surprise and dump the entire basket of laundry on to the floor.
"Shit" Dia muttered while the Steelers fan started to grin.
"Slut," the attendant repeated, "coming in here, trying to give poor Harold a heart attack."
"I don't mind."
"Shush Harold," she looked at Dia, "why do you even have a basket of underwear, you sure as hell aren't wearing any right now. Are you?"
Dia turned red and avoided the woman's gaze, "I'll just pick-"
