Sammy slowly folded his clothes, drawing out the chore, knowing that Tasha would have to come back for the tumbling dryer. He had been waiting for an opportunity to corner the girl and he figured he only had a short window before she told someone about their tryst in the hot tub. He wanted to get to her while she was still bewildered and overwhelmed emotionally. God bless naive and youthful stupidity, he thought. A few minutes alone with her in the laundry room should be enough.
It had been three days since he'd found her in the hot tub and felt her up. She had been hiding in her apartment since then, as far as he could tell, only leaving for school. She hid her face behind her hair when she walked though the complex and she went out of her way to avoid the pool area. This made him confident that she was still vulnerable. She had been in an obvious hurry this afternoon, scurrying through the complex, trying to launder her clothes with the minimum amount of time outside her apartment. When he'd spotted her heading back to her apartment, he'd quickly grabbed his own basket and thrown random clothes in. He'd already folded the pile several times as slowly as he could to avoid looking like the creepy panty-snatcher type to anyone who may come by. I should grab a pair, on principle, he thought with a grin, but decided not to bother since he had fresh pussy coming his way.
Tasha was concentrating on being efficient. She wanted to be safe, in her room, before people starting getting off work. She'd spent the last few days avoiding thinking about Tuesday night and it was exhausting. She had done her homework, some extra credit, read ahead and still had run out of distractions by dinner time, daily. She couldn't concentrate on TV or books and she was afraid to hang out with friends, or god-forbid her mother, because she was a terrible liar and she knew her guilt was all over her face. But the worst was when she'd try to sleep. She kept ending up masturbating endlessly thinking of the hot tub. Of course she usually (but not always) replaced Sammy with other men, but the moment after she came she was swamped with shame and disgust, and the only thing that would successfully distract her, was masturbating again. Last night, she'd finally stolen one of her mother's vibrators. Not the first time she'd played with one, but she'd never inserted it before. She'd gently put it inside of her and let it vibrate until she was almost there. But then she'd found herself shoving it in harder and harder, thinking of Sammy's fingers. Last night had left wet areas on her mattress she had to sleep around, from her marathon session. And she'd had to wash some faint blood stains left on the sheet this afternoon. Thank god her mother was out.
Tasha walked into the dimly lit laundry room and went straight to the dryers, not noticing Sammy, until he said, "Need help folding those?"
She jumped and looked at the large soft middle aged man standing behind and to the left of her, using the folding table. She quickly replied, "Oh god. Um, no, that's okay."
She jammed the not quite dry sheets into the laundry basket as quickly as she could and turned to leave, thinking only of escape, when he quietly said, "Its Tasha, right? I'm Sammy. I wanted to thank you for the other night. I've been enjoying the video since. Remind me to send you a copy."
Tasha stopped, shocked, her mind reeling. She turned back slowly. "What, um, sorry, what video?"
Sammy grabbed his clothes and walked by her, trailing a finger along her cheek. "Stop by 307. I'll show you. I have amazing low-light video capabilities and I do love my souvenirs. Maybe you'd be interested in making a trade? I haven't digitalized the film, yet. Perhaps you'd be willing to give me a new trophy, one that isn't so easy to distribute publically? I'll be home after seven this evening."
Sammy walked out and Tasha responded, as she typically did, with a paralyzing panic.
Gotta love the stupid and scared, Sammy thought. A video? At night? Of people underwater? Filmed from an apartment a hundred feet away and twenty feet up? Sammy didn't know enough about current technology to guess what quality he could get, but he knew he wouldn't be able to afford it. He'd done enough research in the last few days to know "digitalizing" film didn't make sense either, but it didn't matter, all he needed was to convince Tasha to come to his apartment, and now he'd done that.
"My panties?" she squeaked.
"Yep."
Sammy had his strategy firmly in mind. He'd had been worried she wouldn't show up. Or that she'd refuse to come inside. Or she'd bring her mother or something. Things just don't work this well for him in life. But no, she'd knocked at 6:57 and slid into his apartment as quickly as she could, rubbing against him in her hurry to get out of public view. Normally that would have been enough to get him hard, but he'd been jerking off for the last hour in preparation of this. He wanted to last.
"I'll erase the tape, if I get the panties you are wearing right now. A trophy, you see."
