                         Asking For It

                              By

                          The Stranger       
                              


     The yellow light came out the front window like tiny shards
of broken glass spraying across the pavement.  Over the store sat
the sign which read "Jessie's Laundromat" in blood red neon and
underneath that in water blue neon it said "Open 24 Hours."  Tiny
flies collected around the neon sign trying to attack the light
like hungry lions hovering over a wounded zebra.  The street
outside of the shop was silent except for the cars that drifted
by every few minutes on their way to somewhere else, never
noticing the laundromat.
     Bruce Taylor pulled his car into an empty parallel parking
spot in front of the laundromat and put the car in park.  A few
other cars were parked along the curb but only one other was
close to the laundromat.  Sitting in his car he tried to look
inside the laundromat to see if anyone else was in there.  He
didn't want to be here and he didn't want anybody to see him
here.  Through the front glass window he could see a shape moving
back and forth in the back and he recognized it to be a blond
haired woman.  He smiled to himself and got out of the car.
     Bruce had his own washing machine and dryer at home but the
washing machine wasn't working and he wasn't a mechanic, as he 
told his wife a dozen times when she kept yelling at him to fix
it.  His wife, Jabba the Hut, he called her behind her back, had
yapped her big fat mouth at him to either get the machine fixed
or do the laundry himself.  Well money was tight right now and so
until the next pay check came in at the end of the month he'd be
doing laundry for himself.  At three in the morning, so none of
his friends saw him.  Bruce had this macho attitude that men
didn't do laundry, that was woman's work.  He also didn't want
the guys to know that he was being pushed around by his wife,
when in fact he was always being pushed around by his wife and
all the men at work knew it no matter how hard he tried to
pretend that he wore the pants in the house.  
     He got out of his car and went around to the back and opened
the trunk where his two bags of dirty clothes were waiting to be
cleaned.  He dragged the bags out and slammed the trunk which
bounced back up in his face.  He slammed it a second time, this
time holding it down so that the latch would catch and the trunk
stayed down.  The car was another thing that needed to be fixed
and he didn't have the money right now for that either. 
     When he opened the front door of the laundromat it was like
walking into a room that was dark and then turning on the
lightswitch.  It was a sudden change from the silent night that
he was just standing in to the noise of the laundromat.  Washers
and dryers banged around echoing against the walls.  A portable
radio was blasting music into his ears from all around.  He 
almost fell back out of the place with the sudden shove of it
all.
     He stepped deeper into the laundromat and noticed that the
noise was coming from the back of the building where the blond
woman had four machines working at one time and a radio cranking
out music from a different generation then his own.  When the
door slammed shut behind him the woman turned around and looked
him straight in the eyes.  She jumped as if she was startled to
see someone else come in and she ran over to her radio and
flipped it off.
     "Sorry" she said.  "Didn't know anyone was here."
     He placed his bags down on the ground and stared at her. 
She was younger than he was by about twenty years or so.  She had
light blond hair like the color of sugar cane that blew off her
face and down across her shoulders.  She wore a white t-shirt
that was wrapped up above her waist which revealed a very tanned
flat stomach.  On the shirt he could make out words as his eyes
bounced over the curves that said "UCLA Track Team."  She wore
gray shorts that stopped just at the end of her crotch and
started just below her stomach.  Her legs were muscular yet
skinny and they were a light brown like sweet chocolate.  
     "That's okay" he said just loud enough so she could hear
him.
     She turned from him and went back to work, watching each
machine work and sprinkling detergent into each one as she got 
ready for a new load.  
     He felt himself watching her and though he tried to take his
eyes off her it was just no good.  His eyes crawled down her back
and down to her rear, watching as the shorts would rise as she
lifted clothes out of the dryer and placed them in the washer. 
He tried looking around her so he could see her breast that were
being grabbed so tightly like a killer holding a knife.
     Forcing himself, he turned away from her and looked at the
machines he was standing in front of.  From below he could feel
his erection building in his pants and he tried to stop it but
still it grew.  He went through his bags placing some of his
clothes on top of the dryer and then separating them into colors
and then placing them into the washer.  He found his detergent
that he had brought from home and fed the right amount into the
machine and then turned it on.  But nothing happened.
     Damnit, he thought, I didn't put any money in.  She was
getting to him more than he thought possible.  He reached into
his pocket, noticing he was almost ready to explode, and then
pulled out the money he needed.  After inserting some quarters he
switched the machine on and listened to it bang around as his
closed splashed in the water.
     "Do you mind if I listen to my radio on?  I'll keep the
sound low" she yelled from the back of the room.
     "No, that would be fine" he yelled back.  He watched as she
turned the radio on and then switched the sound knob down.  Music 
came whispering out of the radio with beats as words that sent
the girl into a dance that he couldn't take his eyes off.  She
rolled her hips back and forth revealing more and more skin to
his observant eyes.  Back and forth she bounced making her breast
almost fall out of her top.  
     He could feel a deep throbbing in his pants.  He found
himself actually starting to get angry with her.  What the hell
was she doing, he wondered.  She had to be doing this for him,
she wanted him to come over there and screw her on top of the
washing machine.  Why else would she be putting on this show? 
Just look at her, look at the way she's dressed.  She wants you
Bruce, he said to himself.  
     He started walking towards her following his erection
forward until he was right behind her.  She went on dancing not
noticing that he was only steps behind her.  Moving in closer he
started dancing along with her.  Or atleast he tried to dance
along side her but it had been years since he danced and he
certainly didn't know these sexy moves she knew.  He grabbed onto
her vibrating waist and pumped his own hips into her and she
jumped away from him startled.  
     She let out a soft cry.  "What are you doing?" she asked.
     He got closer to her and said "Oh, you know what I'm doing." 
He grabbed onto her and started dancing again.  She didn't move
with him and so he started shaking her.
     "Stop it" she yelled.
     Her words were like a slap in the face, he stopped dancing
and stared into her eyes.  What the hell?, he thought.  A girl
looking like this and dancing the way she was is just asking for
it.  And he was going to give it to her.
     He grabbed at the bottom of her shirt where it was tied into
a knot and pulled her close to him.  A loud grunt escaped her as
she banged into his chest.  He brought her shirt up and placed
his hands onto her breast feeling the soft flesh.  
     "Stop it" she yelled.
     "Shut up, bitch" he yelled back with anger.
     He gripped her tiny wrists in one hand and held her arms to
her side so she wouldn't be able to stop him.  His other hand
roamed over her breast and then started sliding down towards her
shorts. 
     One of her hands came free for a moment as he pulled her
shorts and underwear down and started working on the belt around
his pants.  She reached behind her into a plastic hamper of
clothes.  She brought her hand out and waved her arm in front of
him allowing the knife in her hand to cut deep along his throat.  
     Bruce fell back as blood came erupting out of his throat
like lava.  She brought her hand at his face again and this time
the razor cut down across his eyes and nose.  He dropped to the
floor trying to let out a scream but every time he found the
energy to yell it only reached his throat and the sound only came
out as bubbles of blood.
     Bruce lied on the ground in an ocean of blood staring up at
the bright lights that were like shards of broken glass cutting
into him and when the razor came swiping down at him again it
took his erection away in one long stroke.
     Jessie watched the dick come off and smiled to herself as
she looked into the mans unsuspecting eyes.  Men, she thought,
always being led around by their dicks, they're just asking for
it.  She grabbed his legs and hauled him off to the back dumpster
with all the rest of the trash.  
