Go to the laundromat.

You decide to do some laundry. Though, before you leave, you need to find something to wear. The less is better, as you'll be able to have a bigger load. That being said, you can't go completely naked. You dig around, and pull out a black g-string to slip up your body. You turn around and look into the mirror, and it really does accentuate your behind more than anything has before. Next, you find a black bra and fasten it behind your back. Lastly, you pull out a soft, silken, white housecoat. In the right light, you can see slightly through it. You wrap that around your body and tie it around your waist.

After grabbing the basket and supplies, you swing your purse around your shoulder and head out.

It only takes a few minutes to make your way next door, and there are more people inside than you expect. Immediately near the entrance, you see two middle-aged men chatting about sports, dressed in plain pajamas as they wait for their clothing to finish. To the right, an old woman is minding her own business with a book. On the far right, you see a small group of about half a dozen late-teens wearing normal clothes. You, however, strut down to the far left machine and place your basket down. It's time to get washing.

Glances shoot in your direction. Some last longer than a mere glance, however.

As you begin, you listen to the rather loud conversation behind you. One of the young boys sports a tank-top to show off his toned arms, and just a pair of boxers, and he seems to be the object of attention. Though, it doesn't seem like it's for a good reason. He leans against the washer beside him as he flirts with the girls, despite some of them clearly being there with their boyfriends.

"Come on, babe. You know you like me," he boasts.

The blond he's speaking with flips her hair back. "Ugh. Leave me alone."

Then, the cocky boy looks over. "Hey, uh. Hold that thought, ladies."

He immediately abandons the group to walk up to you. He leans on the washing machine directly next to you, and offers a smirk.

"Hey, babe," he says. "Damn. What is an angel doing in a place like this?"

"Just getting cleaned up," you say. "Don't you want to stick with your friends?"

That's when you decide that you shouldn't let your housecoat go without a wash either. That wouldn't be very hygienic. Even with the occasional look in your direction, you face the machine with a stance of confidence. The silk fabric first falls from your shoulders, though you do it slowly. Then, you pull it down your back, and then off your arms. You bend over slightly as you finish stuffing the clothing inside, causing your skimpy undergarments to be squeezed between your cheeks.

"Shit..." he mutters, ogling you with his mouth agape.

You bring over the top of the machine to reach the buttons, slot in a few coins, and begin the cycle. "Did you come over here to stand in silence?" you ask.

"Not at all, babe."

You look down and see his boxers pitching a tent. It's practically pointing at you.