Who says a sexy, sizzling afternoon can't develop from an utterly awkward, incredibly embarrassing moment? Even on Laundry Day.
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It's not easy to find love—let alone a spark of romance—when you're determined not to look for it. Mr. Right may be nothing but a myth, and he certainly wouldn't show up the day that your sexiest, saved-only-for-special-occasions panties are left clinging to the side of a random industrial washing machine at the local laundromat.
Or would he?
It's easy to recognize the most mortifying moment of your life when it's glaring at you with the most brilliant blue eyes and perfect, gently tousled hair—and swinging your most intimate, still-wet undergarment in his hand.
How could such a sexy stranger, such a chance occurrence, land right in your lap, saying all the right things, making you blush in a way that just makes you all the more attractive to him, and triggering such an incredible afternoon, on Laundry Day?
Well, they are your special panties.
.... I was actually standing in my kitchen, chopping a few fresh vegetables for some enchiladas, when I realized I didn't exactly remember putting away my best thong. You know the one: the delicate kind you can't wear every day, save only for special occasions, and that make your ass and thighs look so amazing that you know when—well, if—a man sees you in them, he'll just fall to his knees and start worshiping the power of your sexual appeal. I wore them out the weekend before, under a new dress I treated myself to just for that specific blind date. The date was horrible, the guy was not anything like his online profile, and the thong never got its chance to shine. But it was definitely in my dirty laundry, safely tucked into a little lingerie bag, and did go into the washing machine at Wash 'N' Go.
I dropped the pairing knife in my hand, ran to my bedroom, and checked my panty drawer. No sign of the thong at all. And the lingerie bag wasn't in its place in the closet either. Crap.
I pictured it plastered to the side of the washing machine, destined to mingle with some old lady's dirty, granny panties or flowered muumuu collection. Or, worse, it had made it into the dryer and my best thong was now a shrunken remnant of its former glory.
I didn't have to think twice about dropping everything to run the three blocks back to the laundromat. It was midday, and I was sweating like a pig when I shoved my way through the double doors of the Wash 'N' Go. I had no idea where to look, which washing machine or dryer I had used earlier that morning, or who could've even taken my precious panties home with them already.
I just started popping open every unused machine, running down the aisles, and getting stared at by a couple of older Asian women wearing loafers and knee socks beneath their Summer-themed muumuus. The image of one of them wearing my thong proudly just popped into my head, grossing me out completely. With any luck, my perfect thong—possibly the only one I'd ever find and own—would still be safe somewhere within the building. I scanned the area with my eyes to figure out my next tactic, expecting to spend the next hour, at least, in a possibly mad and hopeless search for my delicates. That's when I saw him swinging my thong high in the air, pinching it between his forefinger and thumb like it was something potentially threatening.
He was tall, young, dressed in good-fitting jeans, one of those pseudo-vintage t-shirts, and flip flops. His tousled, perfect-right-out-of-bed hair fell into his eyes a bit as he tilted his head, staring at my thong as if it contained some secret message or the meaning of life. I mean, come on!
I ran over to him and stopped just next to him, suddenly realizing how awkward the situation actually was. He just turned his head toward me, still dangling my private undergarments for all to see....
Average Rating: 5.0/5.0 from 4 reviews
Beautiful young woman, alone in the world, encounters a floppy-haired beefcake in the laundromat. But before we get to all that, author Cheri Lille gets in the head of her charming heroine. We learn a little about what she's like, what she wants, and her experiences with men. If she's a little cynical, it's from experience rather than from any chip on her shoulder. (She admits she's around 30.) She's experienced enough to take in the men at the laundromat and immediately tick off "Too Old, Too Weird, Dressed by His Mom, Still Lives with His Mom, Too Much Hair, Not Enough Hair". The narrator doesn't believe in any Prince Charmings (good, because they don't exist). Perhaps because she's weary of being let down, she retreats into a world of erotic fantasy: a Penthouse letter sets her off on an adventure with a vibrator when she gets home from the laundromat. That pleasantry completed, she realizes -- omg! -- that she left her special sexy thong at the laundromat! Panicked, she runs back to the laundromat and encounters her fantasy: he of the vintage t-shirt and Floppy Hair. :)
What follows is straight-up erotica of the type designed for women to read: light humor, much more kissing, a slower pace, a gentler approach, a focus on what our heroine is *feeling* rather than just on the acts themselves. Let me say at once, however, that I reject the notion of what women and men are "designed" to read. I'm not a big fan of labeling and pre-fab slots in which all of us are expected to inhabit. Reading a description of a woman getting off turned on this sexually straight middle-age man, I can tell you. Such sexy stuff may be "intended" for women readers (or so says the "culture"), but males will enjoy it too, especially those who bother to tune into feminine impressions and desires that Ms. Lille so helpfully, like an instructor, lays out for us.
Ms. Lille's narrator says early on, "And I've been around long enough -- gone on enough bad dates -- to realize that I may just have to put myself in front of HIM. That I just have to get out there and help give him a little shove." And so she eventually will with her fantasy-come-true at the laundromat. Today, women can take what they want, and so they do. And if we like and respect them, they may just take *us* every now and again ... even if we're not hip enough to wear faux-vintage t-shirts. :)
5 out of 5 -- a lovely read.
Reading Laundry Day made me feel like being a young girl again secretly reading the "good parts" of the romance novels and men's magazines I managed to get my hands on. The book is just a touch romantic with this sense of humor I just want more of. Cheri Lille is an author like no other. I can't quite put a finger on how she manages to surprise me with her characters and dialogue and humor from one page to the next. I don't really care; I love it!
Laundry Day made me fall in lust with those erotic stories of "casual encounters" all over again, making them feel real, fresh, and new and bringing back the sexiness of what we seek out those kinds of encounters for... or at least like to fantasize about. And this one is HOT. I've read so much erotica, for so many years, that I'm always hoping to find a fresh perspective and true writing talent that makes erotica sizzle the way it's meant to. And Cheri Lille does!
Wow. That was one of the hottest books I ever read. Just when I'm eager for something spicy to enjoy in my 'alone time,' I'm loving the romance that sneaks into this book. But then, just as I'm totally falling for the sexy stranger met under the funniest circumstances, I'm excited by the sexy turn of events that really got me going! Please tell me that Cheri is already working on her next book!
I LOVE the way Cheri writes how women really think, how we really look at sex, can want it as much as men do, and can enjoy it freely and confidently without all the fuss. At the same time, how does Cheri manage to write such incredible male characters I really wish I could meet?!