I Received the Washing Machine Technician Alone That Morning
I hardly ever use the washing machine. Just the odd stray garment, gym shoes, and not much else. The one who really put it through its paces was Damián, my husband, who had this habit of doing laundry every two days. He used it so much that one ordinary Tuesday it started making a harsh clanking noise, like metal against metal, and by the next morning it already smelled burnt. There was no arguing: it had to be replaced.
We looked for one together. He spent an entire afternoon browsing models online, and on Saturday we went to see them in person. We picked one that fit snugly into the laundry nook and, above all, one they promised to deliver soon, because Damián’s work clothes were piling up. It was agreed for Wednesday.
On Monday he warned me he couldn’t stay home that day. He asked me to receive the delivery. I had to take Wednesday off work, which wasn’t too hard: I’d been going for weeks without giving myself a break.
On Tuesday afternoon they confirmed they’d be coming between ten-thirty and noon. And Wednesday dawned like almost every other day: with Damián in a good mood and in the mood. I let him have his way, slow and delicious, before he went into the shower. I stayed lying in bed, naked, the sheets rumpled and my body limp. He got dressed, kissed my forehead, and left.
I went back to sleep. I knew those people were never on time, so I didn’t even set an alarm.
The intercom woke me, a long ring that jerked me right out of sleep. I ran barefoot to the entryphone.
“Yes?” I said, still hoarse.
“Good morning, Mrs. Renata? We’re here to deliver your washing machine. Could we come up and check where it’s going to be installed before we unload it from the truck?”
“Yes, of course, I’ll open up. Fifth floor.”
I hung up and panicked in the good way. I opened the wardrobe and grabbed the first things I saw: a short pair of shorts that barely covered half my ass and a strapless top. I was finishing pulling it on when the doorbell rang. I didn’t even have time to look for underwear. I ran my fingers through my hair to hide the pillow mark and opened the door.
“Good morning, come in.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Renata. I’m the technician, I’m here to install the unit. If you show me where it goes, I’ll take a look.”
“The laundry room is next to the kitchen. Follow me.”
I walked ahead. I could feel his eyes fixed on my back, drifting lower. He was muttering something I couldn’t make out.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” I said, turning halfway around.
“I said you have very nice… pictures. And the apartment is very cozy.”
I smiled without answering. When we reached the laundry room, I realized the mess: I hadn’t put away the laundry baskets. The big one, where Damián threw his things, with a shirt and jeans crumpled inside. And the small one, mine, with a pair of shorts and two thongs in plain sight. From the expression on his face, he saw them before I could react.
He pretended to measure the space, look at the outlet, look back at the basket, then at me. He was hiding it badly.
“If the baskets are in the way, I can move them,” I offered.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Seriously, go ahead.” The laundry-room corridor was narrow, and he didn’t move a centimeter, so to reach the basket I had to brush my whole body against his. I tucked the small basket inside the big one. “That gives you more room.” And on the way out I brushed against him again, this time with my hip.
“All right, let’s bring the washing machine up.”
He went out into the hallway and I heard him talking on the radio with someone.
“Bring it up now, and you have no idea how hot the lady on five is.”
I froze and, at the same time, wasn’t entirely annoyed. Only then did it hit me that I hadn’t finished fixing my clothes. The twisted top left the swell of my breasts showing underneath. The shorts had ridden up my hip, so not only was my ass peeking out through the cut, but everything was showing up higher too. I didn’t fix it. Something in me decided it was fine like that.
***
A few minutes later two of them came back. The technician and a younger coworker, carrying the new washing machine between them. The other one couldn’t keep his eyes off me.
“Told you,” he said under his breath, and they both laughed.
They unpacked it in the living room, left the cardboard on the floor, and took the old one out to put the new one in its place. I watched to make sure they didn’t knock anything over.
“Do you take the broken one away?” I asked.
“Oof, ma’am, that isn’t included,” the younger one said.
“What do you mean it isn’t? Please, help me out. Who’s going to take it out for me afterward?”
“Call and see what they say,” the technician ordered the other one, and winked at him.
The younger one dialed, explained the situation, and hung up.
“Nothing, ma’am. Since we didn’t sell that one, we can’t take it away.”
I looked at them, biting my lip, shrugging my shoulders.
“Don’t be like that. Ask me for whatever you want, but please take it down for me.”
They looked at each other. They spoke in low voices.
“All right,” the younger one gave in. “We’ll set it down. But you’re not going to say anything, okay?”
“You’re angels. I’ll come down with you and take the cardboard.”
The three of us got into the elevator. Them in the back, murmuring; me feeling their eyes on me, and unable, or unwilling, to say anything. I left the cardboard by the dumpster, showed them where to put the old washing machine, and went back up.
When they returned, I offered them something to drink. Just then the younger one’s phone rang: he was being called back to the warehouse because of a loading mistake. The technician told him to go on, he’d finish the installation.
***
“All right, ma’am, I’m going to connect it and program the unit to test it.”
“Are you sure you don’t want anything? I can make coffee.”
“I don’t want to distract you.”
“Not at all. You’ve already done plenty by bringing the other one down, you saved me from leaving the living room a complete mess.”
I went to the pantry, took out the coffee, and made it without paying much attention to what he was doing. Even so, I felt it. I felt the way he watched me, with a deliberate attention that bordered on lechery. The strange thing was it didn’t make me uncomfortable. On the contrary: it made me flirtatious without meaning to, without thinking it would lead anywhere.
“Here you go. The sugar’s next to it.” We stood facing each other. I smiled; he looked me up and down without even trying to hide it. “I hope it’s good.”
“It’s delicious…” He stopped himself. “The coffee, I mean. I’m going to keep going.”
Just then the office called me. They needed some files and I was the only one who knew where they were. I went to get my notes and came back to the kitchen, pacing, nervous, talking about papers no one could find, as if the technician didn’t exist. I could feel him watching me the whole time. I ended the call and, when I looked up, I saw him holding my clothes: the shorts, the top, and the two thongs.
“Ma’am, would it be a problem if I do a quick test with this clothing? Just a little, so it’s brief.”
“You’ve got it in your hand already. What difference does it make? Go ahead.”
“Come over here, I’ll point out the buttons and you press them.”
He put me between the washing machine and his body. He kept telling me what to touch, how many minutes to wait, when to add the detergent and fabric softener. Every so often he would lean in, and I blamed it on the cramped space.
“How’s that? Are you enjoying how it feels?”
“Yes, I’m just glad to have a washing machine again,” I answered, playing dumb.
“And do you like feeling this?” And he pressed the hardness of his groin against my ass.
“Hey! What’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t play innocent. Ever since I got here, you’ve wanted this.” He ground himself against me harder, his hands sliding up my waist to my breasts. “Look how hot you are and how you dressed.”
“No, let me go, let go of me.” I could feel him getting harder against me. My breathing started to quicken. I tried to break free and couldn’t. “Please, stop.”
“You’re enjoying it, don’t deny it.” He kissed my neck, slipped his hands under the top, and bared my breasts. “So soft.”
He took one of my hands and guided it over the front of his pants so I could feel what he was hiding.
“Feel what’s waiting for you.”
I was breathing in ragged little gasps, my nipples hard, noticing how wet I was getting without meaning to.
“Don’t keep going, let me go…” I panted, but I didn’t let go of him. “Mmm.”
***
“Come here.” He dragged me to the kitchen counter, my breasts still out. He braced me against the marble, grabbed my ass, and lowered his mouth. “You’re so good.”
My gasps turned into moans. He noticed and kept going lower: stomach, belly, until he slid my shorts down my legs. I wasn’t resisting anymore. I knelt against the edge of the counter when his tongue found my center, and I buried my fingers in his hair to push him deeper.
“Ah, yes, like that,” I said, not recognizing my own voice. “Don’t stop.”
When I started to leak, he stood up and kissed me on the mouth, making me taste everything, which only turned me on more. Then it was my turn to go down. I let his pants down, took him fully, and devoted myself to him with my tongue, my lips, slowly and then hungrily, until I made him moan.
“Damn, ma’am, you do that so well,” he murmured. “I want to fuck you already.”
He took me back to the laundry room.
“We’re breaking it in.” He bent me over the top of the washing machine, slapped my ass, and opened my legs with his knee. “Open up.”
“Yes, put it in already, I can’t take it anymore.” I pressed my breasts against the cold metal. Between his thrusts and the friction of the edge, I reached my first orgasm almost immediately, and he didn’t slow down. “There, yes, I’m coming.”
I felt him trembling and emptying inside me, groaning against the nape of my neck. He softened little by little until he pulled out, all wet.
“Clean it off, okay?” he said.
I ran my tongue over it and took all of him into my mouth. The more I licked him, the harder he got again.
***
“Come on.” He took me to the sofa, sat me down with my legs open, and buried his face between them again. “I’m going to eat you until you’re soaked.”
“Mmm, yes, more.” I was writhing all over. My moans got louder and louder until something snapped inside me. “I’m coming already, no…” And I soaked his whole face all at once, a tremor I couldn’t control. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d come like that.”
“You just confirmed how horny you are,” he said, climbing up to kiss my breasts and my mouth. “And I don’t think you want to stop.”
“No, I don’t.” I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. It still smelled like sex, the sheets rumpled from the morning with Damián. “Sorry about the mess on the bed.”
I laid him down and ran my tongue over his thighs until I reached the top. I kissed him, licked him, took him all the way to the back of my throat while he pushed my head with both hands. Then I climbed over him the other way so we ended up mouth to mouth. I felt his tongue slide up, open me, search farther than it should have.
“Not there,” I said, breathless. “Not there.”
“Tell me you don’t like it and I’ll stop.”
“That’s not it… but no, not there. Better put it in me again.”
I straddled him and went down slowly, in little jolts, my breasts bouncing with every movement.
“So good, more, don’t stop.” I sped up until I was on the edge of another orgasm, with him spreading my ass and kissing my breasts. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
I froze, trembling, but he kept thrusting.
“I can’t hold out anymore,” I said, still panting. “I want you to put it in my ass. Tear me open.”
“Of course. You thought I was going to spare that ass of yours?” He lined up at the entrance and I let myself drop onto him. “You’re so good.”
“Mmm, yes.”
“And look at you pretending to be difficult, saying no.”
“I didn’t want to. But it’s my husband’s fault, for not doing it this morning.”
“Damn, ma’am… Married and cheating on him. So the milk on the sheets is the cuckold’s.”
“Don’t call him that. Better keep going, because it feels amazing.”
He put me on all fours.
“I want to see how much that ass of yours enjoys it.” He slapped me again and entered me in one hard thrust. My cries never stopped.
“All of me, I want all of me, until you break me.”
The thrusts grew faster, he moaning louder and louder, until I felt him finish inside me while I came again.
***
We lay there for a while, drained. He wiped himself against my body, got up, and dressed. Before leaving, he kissed me.
“I’ll see you in a week, ma’am. We still have to finish calibrating the unit.” And he smiled in a way that left no doubt.
He walked out of the bedroom. Just then my phone rang: it was Damián, asking how everything had gone.
“They’ve finished installing it, my love. They even helped me take the old one down. Although the technician says he has to come back in a week to finish configuring it, so I’m going to have to take another day off… Yes, I love you too. Have a nice day.”
As I hung up, I heard the apartment door close softly.
