$1.50 in Quarters

My key's always getting stuck in this stupid lock.

"Just turn, you damn thing," I mutter, shoving the door with my shoulder as I twist the key harder. It turns and I nearly stumble into the apartment. "Finally," I say, walking in and shutting the door behind me. I'd forgotten to turn the lamp on the nightstand off when I left, so the apartment is bathed in a soft yellow light. I live in a studio and right now, it seems like the whole 400 square feet are covered in my dirty laundry.

I throw my keys and purse on the table and walk to the sink, pouring myself a glass of water and leaning against the counter as I drain it. Being a bartender has its perks (the tips are fantastic, especially when I wear things that show off my.... assets), but not getting home until 3am isn't my favorite. I only ever have time to do laundry when I get home from work, and of course the laundry room is in the basement, five floors down. Never appealing in the middle of the night.

I sigh, pushing myself off the counter and setting my glass in the sink. I don't really have a choice. I think I'm out of clean underwear. I grab my earbuds and turn on my audiobook, but I realize about two minutes in that I haven't heard a single thing the narrator has said. So I switch to music, an upbeat pop mix that boosts my energy just a bit and requires no concentration on my part. I walk around my apartment, collecting dirty clothes, towels, and what I think is a scarf, then pile it all into my hamper and drop it by the door. I use the bathroom, grab my detergent from under the sink and my sketchpad from my nightstand, then throw my purse into the hamper with the rest of it and head out the door.

The stairs in this building are creepy as fuck. I'm not sure they ever get cleaned, and at least two neighbors have sent complaints of rats. But of course, the elevator is broken (again), so I have no alternative.

I lug my hamper down to the basement, pushing open the door to the laundry room to find the lights on. I frown. That's odd. Usually the lights are all off at this point in the night. Again, pros and cons: it sucks to do laundry at 3:30 in the morning, but at least I'm not fighting people for washers. The song switches in my ears and I forget the oddity, nodding my head along to Kesha's "Blow" and loading my clothes into a washer. It's a dollar to run the washer, and 50 cents to run the dryers (don't ask me why), so I pull out my pouch of quarters and start the machine up. It's never worth it to go back up to my place for the half hour it takes, so I pull the chair from the corner and settle in to draw, working on my next tattoo idea. I already have several: a book on my ankle, a dragon on my calf, and my family's birthdays woven into waves on my forearm. The one I'm drawing now is a red rose, but the kind of red rose the main male character from a fantasy novel would give his love before they go to battle. Dark, dark red, thorny, and with stars around it. Before you ask, yes, I love fantasy romance novels.

I'm nearly done when the washer beeps and I stand up. Too quickly, evidently, because my earbud dislodges and falls to the ground. I curse and bend over to grab it, but pause when I hear a sound from the hallway. I take out my other earbud and yes, there it is again. Is that... a moan? I shake myself and go back to my laundry, moving everything to the dryer and starting it. But just as the machine starts running, the song switches, and in the quiet I hear the sound again. Now, I could ignore it. I know I could. But also, what fun would that be?

I walk to the door, peering into the hallway of the basement. I see faint light coming from one end, so I creep towards it. The hall bends there, and I slowly poke my head around the corner. And then I freeze. Because what I can see from the hall is two people in what looks like a mechanical room. Not totally abnormal. What is abnormal is the fact that I can very clearly see they are both entirely naked. Again, I have an (albeit brief) argument with myself in my head. I should turn back. Go back to my drawing and forget everything I saw. Naturally, this is not the path I choose. Instead, I adjust my position, making sure I can see all of them, but they can't see me. As I look more intently, I see it's a man and a woman. The man looks to be about 6'3" and muscular, with a nice tan and dark brown hair. And he is incredibly aroused. The woman is shorter by about 6 inches, with dark hair and breasts that rival even my DDs. They're facing each other, and he has a hand on her ass, her arms wrapped around his neck as they kiss. There's a table of some sort behind her, and as I watch, he pushes her backwards, walking her until her ass hits the edge. Then he lifts her and sits her on the table, her legs going around his waist. His lips break away from hers and her head falls back, his lips traveling down her jaw to her neck. Her moan echoes off the walls, and I note that she doesn't seem to be trying to be quiet.

I can feel my pussy leaking, soaking into my panties. I'm enthralled, totally captivated by these two strangers. His mouth moves lower and he spreads her legs with his hands as his tongue swipes across her nipples, drawing another moan from her and nearly one from me. Then he's dropping to his knees, her legs on his shoulders as he leans in and though I can't see it, I imagine drags his tongue up her slit. At least, that's the sound I would make if he did it to me. This time I barely stifle a groan, and I could swear I see him freeze for a moment before diving into her cunt, making her moan and throw her head back in pleasure. He must be damn good with his tongue, or else he's already made her cum and she's that sensitive for him. Either way, her moans are intoxicating and I watch, trapped in pure lust as her breasts shake and she bucks her hips against him.

Then he drops one hand to his lap and fists his cock, stroking it hard and fast. I melt, the knowledge that he's so turned on just by her taste enough to send bolts of pleasure through me. My head falls against the wall, and the dull pain knocks some sense back into me. I go bright red, quickly turning and rushing back to the laundry room. My clothes aren't done yet, and I realize I'm panting. I sit on the chair and automatically, as if on instinct, my hand falls to my lap, slipping under my leggings and running two fingers over my soaked lace panties. I bite my lip. I can't remember the last time I was this turned on. My fingers find their way to my clit, rubbing slowly and drawing a ragged moan from my lips, entirely unbidden. As if on cue, I hear the woman down the hall cry out, clearly reaching her climax. A new wave of arousal rushes through me, soaking my fingers as I imagine him standing up and leaning in to kiss her, making her taste herself on his lips and tongue. I imagine him rubbing the tip of his cock against her over-sensitive slit, pressing between her folds, sliding slowly into her tight pussy. I rub my clit faster, my breath coming in gasps. I can hear them. It's not just her moaning now. I can hear a deep groan, a distinctly male sound, and envision his cock sliding deep into her. My other hand goes down my top, finding my hard nipples and squeezing, tugging. I can hear him talking to her as she moans, and I wish desperately I could know what dirty things he's saying as he fucks her. I imagine her legs wrapped around him, his ass flexing as he thrusts into her. His mouth occasionally finding her nipples, light and teasing, bringing her closer to another orgasm. I quicken my fingers on my clit and pull at my nipples, aching for release. And then I hear it. He's loud enough for me to hear this time. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," and it's as if a bomb goes off inside me. I explode, gushing all over my hand and completely soaking my panties and leggings, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep quiet. I start to shake, my whole body quivering as I come down from the most intense orgasm I've ever had. I don't know exactly how long it's been that I've been basking in my afterglow, but suddenly the dryer dings.

I startle, standing up quickly and throwing open the machine. I realize I can't hear the couple anymore, and I wonder if they've gone upstairs. But just as I grab the last of my clothes and load them into my hamper, I hear another machine open from behind me. I whirl around, and nearly faint. The woman is leaning over, grabbing towels from a dryer that must've been done when I got here, and the man is standing next to her, leaning against the wall. They're both fully clothed, respectably dressed in sweats and t-shirts. I realize I'm staring, and turn again, throwing my detergent, sketchpad, earbuds, and purse into my hamper and heading toward the door. Something stops me though, and I look over my shoulder.

The man is staring at me. Not just looking, staring. And I can just tell. He knows I saw them. I panic, practically running out of the room and up the stairs. I only stop once I'm in my apartment, and fall back onto my bed.

I am so fucked.