The bikini creates a line

The flipflops I wore from home make the familiar clopping sound against the asphalt as I head out to the two bay car washing garage. I can see Mindy is already hard at work, sponging off the foamy soap she applied with the wand. Of course, she is in the usual uniform, while I can feel the sun beating on my bare skin in this tiny bikini.

Mindy doesn't see me as I set my bucket with chamois and sponge on the concrete pad next to her and wave a car into my stall from the short line. I dutifully go to work with the soaper hose, getting the sedan all soaped up from top to bottom. The middle-aged man seems to enjoy my attention to detail as I rinse and buff the car dry, tipping me well.

As I fall into my usual routine, I begin to enjoy the unusually warm April day, thinking I might get an early start on my tan as I continue. Getting a little sweaty, I think nothing of letting the rinse wand wet me down to cool me off. The tips continue to increase, and I just smile and thank them.

A couple of SUVs pull in and it's a little trickier to get the tops of them, but it does feel pretty good to get all slick from the soapy foam as I lean into the vehicle's side. I can feel the back panel of the bikini bottom pull higher between my cheeks, but, I figure, it's a public place like the beach, might as well just let it ride.

I do see, out of the corner of my eye, some men looking at me from the street that goes by the business and pulling right in, I grin at the prospect of more business when I see the line behind the stall snaking down to the street.

What I don't notice is they are all forming behind my stall.

Mindy does.