Loads of Attraction: The Laundry Mat Encounter
A quiet man’s laundry day ritual takes a steamy turn when a golden-haired stranger walks in—and changes everything.
Over the next few weeks, I’m sharing a collection of micro-erotica—stories I’ve started but never finished.
Your mission is simple: heart your favorites. The ones that spark the most interest will grow into standalone stories or entire series.
The laundry room was quiet, just the rhythmic hum of machines filling the space. I was halfway through folding a fresh stack of towels, my mind lost in the smooth cadence of my favorite erotic podcast. Something about second chances and unexpected connections—it had a way of tugging at my desires… daydreams of my dream man.
The room had that comforting warmth from dryers running on full blast, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from drifting deeper into my head. Folding laundry was a ritual, one I enjoyed alone. Predictable. Steady. Simple.
Until it wasn’t.
A deep, soothing voice cut through the haze of my daydream. “I’ve been watching you.”
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I froze, a towel still in my hands.
Pulling the earbud from my left ear, I looked up. And there he was.
He had hair like some mythological god, golden and wild, and sharp, kind eyes that glinted like they knew something I didn’t.
His body was fit and strong, commanding your full attention. Late thirties, maybe—young, but not in that boyish way. He had weight to him. Depth.
“Excuse me?” I managed, the words slipping out.
He smiled, an easy, disarming grin that made me feel exposed in a way I hadn’t expected. “Don’t worry. I mean it in a good way.” He gestured toward his dryer. “I’ve seen you here before. You’re… meticulous.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the warmth in his voice or the playful glint in his eye, but suddenly, the air felt charged.
I pulled my other earbud out, letting it dangle as I steadied myself. I wasn’t used to this—being noticed, being seen—but something about him made me stand a little straighter, like I didn’t mind being under his gaze. “Meticulous, huh? That’s a new one.”
He chuckled, low and deep, the sound wrapping around me like the heat in the room. “It’s a compliment. Trust me.”
I walked closer, a step at a time, testing the weight of my courage. He didn’t move, didn’t shift. He just stayed where he was, watching me with that same steady, unflinching gaze.
“You got a name?” I asked, my voice steadier now, more sure of itself.
“Lucian,” he said, his lips curving into a slow, teasing smile. “And you?”
“Kai,” I replied, the name feeling heavier in my mouth than it ever had before.
“Well, Kai,” he said, leaning casually against the dryer, his arms crossing in a way that made the fabric of his shirt pull tight against his chest. “I’d say I’m sorry for interrupting your podcast, but… I’m not.”
A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. “You’re bold.”
“Not always.” His smile softened. “But tonight felt… different.”
I could feel my pulse quicken, the kind of thrum that came not from fear but from anticipation. And suddenly, the steady rhythm of laundry tumbling wasn’t the only thing filling the room.
I took another step forward, the space between us shrinking until I could see the faintest freckles dusted across his cheekbones. “Well, Lucian,” I said, my voice dropping lower, more deliberate, “what happens next?”
He tilted his head, the corners of his mouth lifting like he already knew the answer. “That depends,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “on whether you’re as bold as you look right now.” He glanced over his shoulder, quick and deliberate, checking to make sure we were alone.
I inched closer, closing the small gap between us.
The heat from the dryers wasn’t what had me feeling flushed, and I wasn’t thinking about laundry anymore. All I could focus on was him—standing there, impossibly close, his presence magnetic, his masculine scent a mix of cedar and something warm that made my head swim, his gaze daring me to make the next move.
He didn’t have to wait long.
I dropped to my knees, my hands steady as I reached for his zipper…
