Off to the dry cleaners.

Turning the ignition key, I paused and rested my forehead briefly on the steering wheel, catching my breath. Turning my head to left, I saw the blonde in the orange one piece suit a few feet away watching me. She smiles as our eyes meet, and another girl, a shorter slightly goth looking girl with dark black hair and firm round breasts under a very wet white t-shirt steps behind the flirty blonde and takes both of her tits in her hands and give them a squeeze.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, knowing that I can’t spend all my time and money here with these seriously debouched sorority sisters even if I wanted to. After all I have a date with a pretty sexy looking girl, who seemed awfully anxious to see me later tonight. I wave to the two embracing girls, as well as several others in various states of undress and wonder what they would do if they didn’t have that tall hedge blocking the view from the street. Pulling out on the street, and back into traffic, I check my watch, and head to the dry cleaners.

I have a couple of suits to pick up, and three shirts. I pull the claim ticket out of my pocket, and set it next to me on the passenger seat. On the short trip there my thoughts turn back to Hasina, the girl I’d met at the bank, and then to Anne Talbot, the thirty-something women that runs the dry cleaning place. She’s pretty much your prototypical Milf, and seems to like to flirt with me more than some of her other customers. I’m not shy of course, and I flirt right back at her, but I’ve always thought that if I really pressed the issue, she’d be more than interested.

I get the impression she’s not very happily married, but I’m not really sure why, or what the circumstances are. She’s got a son and daughter in high school whom she’s very proud of, is an avid tennis player and runner, so needless to say her body is nice and firm. She’s about a head shorter than I am with dark blonde hair with lighter highlights, blue eyes that she hides behind a pair glasses and very sensuous curves. Her breasts aren’t all that big, but underneath a thin cotton t-shirt they look pretty good to me.

Pulling into the lot of the cleaners I shut off the car, and push through the front door, head to the desk, and ring the small bell. In the back of the building I can hear the soft, lilting coversation between two of the young Vietnamese girls who also work at the cleaners. Looking at the clock on the wall behind the desk, I see that It’s five minutes till closing time.