The RA in the Laundry Room

It’s about time you washed your sheets. They’re starting to stink a little. Plus, there’s the weird blotchy stain by the corner that you should really deal with, if only because it might scare away a prospective date. You never want to drop the ball on that front.

You head into the laundry room carrying your sheets and some clothes that need to be washed. After tossing in your shirts and pants into the washing machine, you find an ironing board and spread your bed sheet over it, pulling the stain front and center. Then, you grab a bottle of detergent and a spare rag and grit your teeth, ready to get to work.

Tatiana comes in a few minutes later, carrying her laundry in a small mesh bag. She wears a black gown with a surplice neckline that hugs her tight, the slit down the right side exposing her long legs. That’s a figure that’s haunted your sweetest dreams. Then you get a closer look inside the mesh bag. It’s filled with frills and lace. Bras. Panties. An image of Tatiana clad in nothing but sheer lingerie pops into your head. You picture her all over you, riding you, you spearing into her… Your hand slips. The rag goes flying across the room, splatting against the floor, narrowly missing Tatiana. She shoots you a terrifying look that causes you to stumble backwards.

“S-sorry,” you say, inching towards the fallen rag. “I got… distracted.”

“Is that right?” Tatiana asks, plucking the rag off the ground. She smiles faintly, dangling the rag in the air. “What in this room could have possibly distracted you?”

She crosses paths with you and slaps the rag across your ass, before tossing it behind her shoulder. It lands on the ironing board, perfectly dropped across the stain.

“Doing laundry is just boring,” you say. “The slightest disturbance is a welcome distraction. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t,” Tatiana laughs, glancing over at you scrubbing your sheets. “You’re just not very good at doing your laundry.”

“No I’m not, I’m… wait, what?” you ask, confused. You look down at yourself scrubbing your sheets, self-conscious. Or was this innuendo that you missed?

Tatiana smiles, sauntering over to your side. She places a finger on the detergent-soaked stain mark.

“Too much detergent, to start with,” she says. “That is going to stain the sheet all over again. Also you’re scrubbing too much. You know what a scrub is, yes?”

“A scrub is a guy that thinks he’s fly,” you hum.

Tatiana stares at you blankly, plainly not getting the reference.

“You know, a scrub is a guy that can't get no love from meee,” you continue to sing, only to stumble slightly when your voice cracks at the end.

She cracks a smile at that.

“You don’t just suck at doing your laundry,” she says. “You have a voice fit for the newspapers.”

“Well, I’ve got a face fit for GQ,” you reply, gesturing upwards. “And a chest fit for Men’s Health.”

Tatiana smiles, pulling up close to you.

“I have a need to verify that,” she says. She drags a finger across your shirt, sliding it in between the buttons.

“Then let me show you,” you smile, undoing the remaining buttons and peeling off your shirt. It falls to the ground, revealing your broad chest. {if Fitness > 2} All your working out has paid off. {else} Not shabby. {endif}

The Russian beauty takes in your physique, a lone eyebrow starting to raise.

“Not bad,” she says. “What else have you got?”

“Thighs fit for an Olympic sprinter,” you say, playing with the waistband of your pants. You see Tatiana’s gaze drift low, pausing over your crotch, and you throw caution to the wind, sliding out of your pants. You’re sporting a semi beneath your boxers, and Tatiana smirks at you.

“They will let anyone into the Olympics these days, won’t they?” she says, grabbing your thighs and then your ass in short succession.

“You’re just used to the unrealistic standards set by doped up Russian fiends. I’m all natural,” you laugh, enjoying the way her hands linger on your body. Then, liking the way that this is going, you decide to push your luck further. “If you think you’re so hot, what have you got to show?”

“A body worthy of the Swimsuit Issue,” Tatiana says, rolling her shoulders, letting the gown expose just that much more of her cleavage.

“Prove it,” you say, crossing your arms.

She meets your challenge with a seductive smile. She bends over, her gown hiking up and exposing more of her creamy legs, her ass sticking up at you. With her body arched like this, she picks up her mesh bag and picks out two choice pieces of gray lingerie, a matching set of bra and panties.

“I need to change into this,” she says. “So you need to look away, because I’m not wearing anything under this gown.”

You do your best to conceal your shock, the image of Tatiana’s bare tits and pussy impressing itself in your head. It takes a massive amount of willpower to simply look away from Tatiana as she pulls her gown away from her body. You hear the gown hit the ground with the softest flutter, that’s how closely you’re listening. In fact, as you hear her putting on the lingerie, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder back at Tatiana. You earn yourself the image of her splendid tits, thick, fat nipples planted firmly atop her twin mounds an instant before the gray bra slides over it.

“You bad boy,” Tatiana says, shaking her head. But the smile that plays across her lips tells a very different story.

Now clad in just those two small pieces of cloth, Tatiana poses for you, one hand behind her head, the other at her waist.

“Worthy of the Swimsuit Issue,” you whistle. Then, not wanting to let this moment go to waste, you pull out your phone. “We’ve got to make this look pro. I can be the photographer on site.”

You snap a picture of Tatiana, that smirk on her face and the luscious curves of her body a massive turn-on. Your boner begins to make itself more prominent, and the downward flick of Tatiana’s eyes tells you that she’s noticed, too.

“So,” you say, stepping up to her. “You want to see what my package is worthy of?”

She reaches down and gives your a cock a hard squeeze.

“We’re in the laundry room,” Tatiana laughs, giving your cock another squeeze. “Anyone could walk in.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” you ask her, placing a daring hand over her tits. You give her melons a corresponding hard squeeze. She breathes out, hard.

“We will have to continue this some other time,” Tatiana says, pushing you away with a firm finger. {if Tatiana > 79} “A man like you could get lucky soon.” {else} “Keep this up, and you may get lucky someday.” {endif}

Tatiana +20