Laundry Girl: winter, no heat

Danny unbolted the door to his apartment and stepped inside.

"Fuck."

The heat was dead again in the apartment. It had been like this since the day after Christmas. His landlord kept leaving him messages, things like yeah, I know about the heat, we're working on it, and look, just, like, wear a sweater, it'll be fixed soon, and Danny was getting annoyed. He liked his apartment, he liked his neighborhood, but this was just stupid. Three weeks of no heat. In the winter. In New York. And it was getting really cold outside.

Still wearing his jacket, gloves, and hat, he went to his kitchen and put on a kettle of water to make tea. As it was boiling, he walked over to the four large windows along the western wall. As he often did, he checked in with the various windows of The Barkley and The Granderson across the way. He was about to turn back to the kitchen when his eye caught some motion in The Barkley.

Ah, there she was in Granderson, 3 Right -- it was Laundry Girl.

He had seen her enough times that he knew the three windows were all the same room. He could see her walk from window to window, though the one in the corner of the building, the one furthest right (from his perspective) was her favorite. It had a window seat with a cushion, and she often used the wall of the corner to lean against while she lounged.

Today, Laundry Girl wore a button up sweater with a high collar, and dark pants. The first glimpse he saw of her today, she put a foot up on the window seat, unzipped a long black boot, and pulled it off. She did the same with the other foot. She then sat in the window seat, her back to the window, and bent over forward. He couldn't see what she was doing -- putting on or taking off socks, maybe? A moment later, she sat up, turned to her left, and leaned back against the wall, her favorite position.

Danny noticed that her feet were now bare, so perhaps his sock theory was true. She had her cell phone out, though Danny couldn't see the activity. She seemed to be swiping up a lot, so ... Instagram? Who knows.

As she sat, she placed one foot on top of the other, and wiggled her toes together idly. From time to time, she would use the toes of one foot to lightly stroke or scratch the underside of the opposite leg.

She quickly stood up, left her phone on the seat, and walked out of view. Danny used this opportunity to go get his tea. It was still really cold in his apartment, and he wasn't ready to take off his own jacket.

He returned to the window, and Laundry Girl was standing in her far left window, looking out. Does she see me? Danny wondered. But her eyes were fixed lower. _Maybe she's watching the front of the apartment building next to mine, _he thought. She drank from a glass, something with ice in it. God, the idea of ice sounded horrible to Danny. Maybe Laundry Girl's heat is working.

She made a face as if the drink had an effect on her, like when people do a shot of something stiff. She took another sip of her iced drink. She looked around her room a bit, and then grabbed the tall collar of her sweater and shook it slightly open and closed. This can't be real -- she's too hot in her apartment? What are the odds?!

He didn't know for sure, of course, but her behavior seemed to suggest that she was in fact too hot. She pulled at the collar again as she walked back to her window seat. As she sat, she fingered open the top of five buttons on her sweater.

Laundry Girl picked up her cell phone, and resumed whatever activity she had been doing before. After a bit, she dropped the phone to her side, and glanced out the window. Danny reflexively looked away, but he was confident she didn't see him. She never seemed to see him. She went back to her phone, but this time it was a different motion on the screen, so maybe a different app. She held the phone up, looked at the screen, and tapped it. She was taking a selfie. She brought the phone back to her and looked at the picture. She must have deleted it, because she re-posed and did the same picture again.

Danny would have loved looking at those photos. What did she see in herself? What did she want the picture to represent?

Laundry Girl took another sip of her drink. She got up on her knees on the window seat, and took another selfie. She then stood up fully on the window seat, facing the window, turned head back and tried to take a picture at this angle. She laughed at herself -- the picture did not work as intended. She sat again, and drank more of her drink.

Once again, she dropped the phone on the cushion, and walked out of view. Moments later, she returned, but now all the buttons of her sweater were undone. She walked back toward the window seat, and pulled the sweater off completely. She had a purple shirt underneath it. She threw the sweater on the edge of the window seat, and lay back again.

She fanned herself with her hand. _Good grief, _thought Danny, _this is just criminal. _She quickly undid the bow and the top two buttons of her blouse. She pulled on the material, flapping it open and shut on her neck, creating some cooling air. She adjusted her position on the window seat, and took another selfie.

She picked up her drink again, and aimed to take a sip -- but she was leaning back too far, and it spilled on her chest. She reacted quickly -- the ice must have been startling. She got up, and brushed at her shirt. She reached inside, and pulled out what was likely a bit of ice cube. She continued rubbing her shirt for a bit before deciding that she couldn't just wipe up the liquid.

Her body faced the angle that was about halfway between profile to the window and into her own room as she appeared to unbutton the rest of the front of the shirt. She pulled it back off her shoulders. She wore a plain white bra underneath. She turned her body to her left a bit -- maybe the window was providing better light? -- and rubbed one hand on the left cup of her bra. She pulled the cup forward a bit, off her breast, and scooped out what was definitely another piece of ice.

She sat back down on the window seat, and leaned against the wall once more. She had carefully repositioned the left cup of her bra as she sat. She lolled her head slightly to the left, leaning it on the window, and blithely looked at the sky.

She reached for her drink again, but sat up more straight this time so as not to spill. After taking a sip, she seemed to pause for a moment to think of something. She reached her fingers into the cup, and pulled out a full ice cube. She lay back again, head against the window, ice cube in her right hand. With her left hand, she pulled the left cup of her bra forward again, off her breast, and slowly rubbed the ice cube on her left breast.

She sighed as she massaged the ice into her skin. Her movements were slow and gentle. Once, she pulled the ice cube out, sucked on it briefly, and returned it to her left breast.

After a few minutes, she withdrew her right hand, and it was empty. Either the ice had melted or she left it in her bra. Both hands now went to the waist of her pants, which she unbttoned. She slid the tips of her fingers into the waistline, just beneath her navel, and rubbed the skin there.

She lay there another several minutes, just softly tracing her own waistline, sometimes running a finger upward to touch her navel. Suddenly, she sat up and picked up her phone, and brought it to her ear. As she talked, she stood, and walked away from the window.

Several minutes later, she returned, now wearing a bathrobe. She took her seat in the window once again, still talking on the phone. She was wearing slippers, too. As she talked on the phone, Danny wondered who she was talking to. A friend? Relative? Lover?

Alas, he would never know. Laundry Girl talked for a while in the window seat, and eventually got up, walked away from the window, and turned off the light.