Melanie hadn’t brought a lot of clothes with her when she’d moved in. The rest of her things were supposed to be arriving in a week or two, but for now she was a regular client of the apartment building’s laundry room. And by regular, it wasn’t just frequent, it was scheduled, because Melanie had already worked out the times when he would be there.

She didn’t know his name, she just knew she wanted to get his attention. Yet, somehow, just sitting there prettily and reading her book hadn’t worked. He would come down, put his washing in, and then leave, and sometimes he would glance at her and as she was about to say “hi” or something equally imaginative he would turn and be gone.

Not today, she determined, carrying her stuffed bag of clothes down the stairs. He should already be there, if she had her timing right.

And she did have her timing right. He was just starting to load a machine, and there was an empty space right beside him. She nearly tripped over the steps running to it in case someone else got there first. Never mind that the laundry room was empty except for the pair of them.

Melaine began to stuff her clothes into the machine, one item at a time, butterflies dancing in her stomach as she wondered what she should say. Everything went in at once, at thirty degrees, and one machine load cleaned just about everything she had.

The man beside her was loading his machine carefully, making sure no rogue red socks had infiltrated what looked like soft woollen sweaters. Melanie glanced down at herself, wishing she had something a bit more sexy than leggings and a baggy jumper to wear, but until the rest of her things arrived this was as glamorous as she was going to get.

Her heart pulsed faster. He was almost finished loading. She had to say something or he’d been gone.

“Hi,” she said suddenly, and a little too loudly

The man looked left and right in surprise before realising he was the one being addressed.

“Oh… hi…” he said.

Melanie melted a little in his eyes, a hint of amusement playing in stony grey irises shadowed by full, dark eyebrows.

“Um… I’m Melanie…” she continued, holding out a slender hand.

He looked down at the white sweater he was holding, dropped one end and gripped her fingers firmly enough to send a thrill through her body.

“Duncan,” the man said, with the hint of an English accent. Oh my, Melanie thought to herself.

“I see you down here a lot,” she said. He smiled.

“I think you’re down here a lot,” he said in reply. She blushed.

“I don’t own many clothes,” she said, “I mean, I do. But they’re not here. They’re in a container somewhere.”

“Somewhere?”

“Down the west coast. From Portland.”

“Ah,” Duncan said.

“So I have to do a lot of washing until they arrive.”

“Or until you buy some more,” he said. She blushed again.

“It seems wasteful,” Melanie replied, not wanting to admit that this apartment was taking a lot of her money right now.

“So I wash everything once a week,” she continued.

“Everything?” he asked, and Melanie blushed as she picked up a pair of pale cream knickers and tossed them into the drum.

“Um… yeah….” she threw a t-shirt on top to hide her embarrassment.

“Or almost everything,” he said with a smirk, looking her up and down for a second. Her heart raced: was he checking her out?

“Pretty much everything,” she said, lifting one foot and peeling off a short sock and tossing it in the machine, and then doing the same with the other. She wiggled her bare toes against the cold floor.

“Well…” he began to say, putting the last item into the drum.

Melanie panicked. He couldn’t leave yet!

“It means I have to stay here and watch the machine,” she said quickly, putting her hands being her back, slipping her fingers into her leggings and pushing them down her feet. The long jumper was plenty baggy enough to cover her. She awkwardly pulled the clingy lycra over her feet, one at a time, then, as nonchalantly as she could she tossed them into the machine.

Duncan glanced down at Melanie’s bare legs, just for a second.

“I see,” he said, suddenly distracted for a moment as he stood with one hand on the washing machine door.

“I mean, I can’t go wandering around like this, can I?” she said, begging him to look her up and down one more time. He merely smiled at her.

“Well-” he said again.

Melanie put her hands behind her back, reaching inside her sweater, and Duncan glanced down as her jumper lifted high up her thighs before catching himself and staring at the ceiling. Melanie unfastened her bra and reached one hand inside the neck of her sweater, pulling the strap out and over her hand before tugging it back inside again. She repeated the manoeuvre with the other hand and, almost with a flourish, pulled the bra out from beneath the wool and tossed it into the machine. She had Duncan’s attention, just for the moment.

“As I said,” she continued, “I have to wash everything every week.”

“Everything?” Duncan asked, an eyebrow raised.

Melanie put her hands behind her back, slid her fingers into her underwear waistband and pushed down, bending carefully as she dropped the garment over her legs, carefully picking one foot and then the other through the leg holes and tossing the white lace into the machine.

“Yes, everything,” Melanie repeated again, crossing her arms and standing in front of Duncan. He better be thinking about how naked I am beneath this sweater, she thought to herself. He glanced her up and down as if he might be.

“Not quite everything,” Duncan said, “But nearly everything.”

He closed the door of the machine and Melanie blushed, her heart racing. Was he really about to leave?

“I don’t think I can put this in there,” she said, tugging at the woollen sleeve.

“You probably can’t,” Duncan said.

“Can you do me a favour? Can you check the label at the back?”

She turned around and lifted her hair. And while you’re at it, she thought, you could kiss me on the neck. Just once will do.

Duncan rolled the neck of the sweater back and read the label.

“Delicates,” he read, “You’re right. It’s what I’m doing.”

She turned to face him and looked at the machine. Did he really not have any idea she was coming onto him?

“So I could put it in there?” she asked. Her sweater was cream and colourfast.

“You could,” Duncan said, looking her up and down for a second.

Melanie took a deep breath, gripped the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. She stood naked, holding her last item of clothing out towards the man she’d been wanting to draw the attention of for weeks now. The smirk returned to his lips and this time he was definitely checking her out. She stood as confidently as she could, legs slightly apart, shoulders back, and Duncan moistened his tongue with his lips, just for a moment.

He opened the door of the machine, took the sweater from her and pushed it inside, then closed it, set the controls to delicate and started the cycle.

“I guess you’re stuck without clothes for an hour or so,” he said, looking her up and down once more.

“I guess I am,” Melanie said, heat rushing to her cheeks. Did he like what he saw? She couldn’t tell. She pushed the door of her machine closed, set to a cool wash, and it too began to whirr and fill with water. There was no going back now. Her clothes would take even longer.

“I guess I’ll have to stay here and wait,” Melanie said, folding her arms beneath her breasts to lift them a little.

“I’d love to wait with you,” Duncan said, “But I’ve got a phone call to make.”

Melanie took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, drawing Duncan’s attention for a second. Was he really going to leave her like this?

“But you’ll be back before then?” she asked, taking a half step towards him.

Duncan smiled and Melanie felt a moment of hope.

“Probably not,” he said, then glancing at the timer on both machines, “But it looks like my wash will finish before yours, although your sweater will stay wet for a while.”

“Then I’ll have to wait even longer,” Melanie said, “Long enough for you to come back?”

Duncan smiled again.

“No,” he said, taking a step back and beginning to turn away, “But I’ll tell my wife to look out for you when she comes down. I don’t think you’ll be hard to miss.”

Melanie turned a deep shade of crimson as Duncan turned and left the laundry. She glared at the machines, and at her cold, mechanical surroundings, and at her naked reflection on the stainless steel. Well, she thought, another lesson learned: find out if a man’s married before you strip naked in front of him.