Bill saw Millie first thing in the morning. He had two dirty uniforms to put to the laundry and he needed at least one replacement to have a back-up in case of emergency. Emergencies did happen. One never knew when there would be a spill, a drop, a tear, a who-knew-what.
For once Millie was busy. She had, as Bill saw, a whole laundry cart of uniforms to put up on her racks.
What he saw of her first was her bent over that cart and fetching the uniforms, her back to the counter. He saw her come up with a stack of them, maybe five or so, which she’d gripped by their hangers.
He did not say anything and stood watching. His instinct was to sneak around and goose her, but he didn’t. His second instinct was to chuck one of his uniform jackets at her to surprise her. But he didn’t do that either. He simply stood and watched, watched the movement of her body from the cart to the rack and as she hung the uniforms on her rack. That done, she did not turn around. She bent over slightly, reached behind her, lifted the uniform dress and scratched her thigh, not high up from the back of her knee but enough to make it interesting.
That’s when he really wanted to say something, but he still didn’t. He stayed there watching. He watched her movement, watched her butt, looked at what he could see of the panty lines when the uniform pressed against her.
He stood. He watched. As he watched he was thinking “move so the dress rides up, scratch your thigh again, come on give me something to see.” He was not horny and at least for the moment he was not at all unsatisfied sexually. He was just a young man at the top of his man-game looking at a young woman that he already knew and could have at will, at whim, without doing anything other than letting her know.
Biology was biology. Sex was sex. It was the beginning of the 70s. There she was. Here he was.
He watched.
“How long you gonna stand there?” Millie asked. “And don’t bother turning red. I saw you come up.”
“I was hoping for a little show,” Bill said.
Millie stood straight and turned. First thing, she approached her counter and relieved Bill of his dirty uniforms. Seeing no one around, she leaned over the counter and kissed him, a quick kiss on the lips.
“What you want to see baby?” she asked.
“You know what I want to see.”
“Real quick, one show. Then you come back later.”
Millie double-checked to make sure they were alone, then as close to the counter as she could, she lifted her dress and pulled her panties to the side.
She stood that way a moment, as long as she dared risk no one coming by. And while she was exposed, as their eyes met, she put her fingers on herself there and licked her lips.
“Good show?” Millie asked as she put herself together.
“Good show,” Bill said.
“About 1:30,” Millie said.
“I’ll do my best,” Bill said. “No promises.”
Millie smiled. She went to her special rack, not far away, and handed Bill two very nicely laundered uniforms.
“You owe me a show,” Millie said.
Bill winked at her. “Time for much more than a show,” he said.
He had no idea why he said that. He had no idea how, having come in and over to the laundry with no desire for Millie, no taste for her, no inclination of fooling around with her or anyone, it had gotten to this. But he knew that as he carried his specially laundered uniforms over his shoulder on the way to the locker room, he wanted her now, he wanted to…
All kinds of things went through his mind about what he wanted to do.
