Someone's been stealing your panties at the laundromat, you decide to set up a sting

"It's happened again!" you exclaim. The day before you'd gone to that filthy little laundromat a few blocks away and you'd only now, the next afternoon, gotten around to putting things away.

"Everytime I do the laundry something disappears. That's the fourth time, and the eighth thing missing!"

Was it true that dryer's ate clothes? You thought it supposed to be socks they ate, not panties and chemises. You could understand the lacey underthings dissolving, you suppose, but the chemises are like mini tank-tops you wear in place of a bra simply to keep your long, thick nipples from poking through your tops. Now they're all gone and your supply of panties is dwindling.

Because of the three block walk to the laundromat you've been doing laundry at least once a week, which means the loads aren't as full as your finances would like, but even with the reduced loads your arms are limp as noodles by the time you get home.

"Next time I'm going to catch them in the act," you vow, and go to dig out your video camera. It had been a boyfriend's, and he'd shot tons of footage of you on it, but it was the unintended footage that prompted you to steal it one day and it just happened to be the same day that he'd broken up with you.

"Okay, so I'll pretend to fall asleep and catch them in the act - and on film," you mutter. It shouldn't be hard, you'd fallen asleep every time you'd gone there, always with a textbook in front of you.

Scooping up the last of your panties you deposited them in the laundry bag, then put in some clothes you didn't care much about - shorts and pants, mostly; you always wore skirts and dresses anyways.

"Perfect. Some camouflage and the bait. I'm gonna nail whoever's doing this," you smirk, tucking the camera into your book bag and grunting as you pick it all up. Wearing five inch platform heels might not be the best idea for this caper but your running shoes seem to have vanished too. You'd swear there were gremlins in this ratty apartment building.

Sighing you head out for your sting operation, skulking past the creepy neighbors' doors and down into the street, noticing as always how it seems to get darker so much quicker at this time of year.

You never thought that panties could wear you out, but between the long school day, the book bag which you only just realized contains four textbooks, and the awkward laundry bag with its new detergent and fabric softener, you're tired just by walking to the laundromat.

"Back so soon?" the fat greasy man in the corner said, chuckling. "You must be a very dirty girl."

You ignore him as usual. You've no idea why he's always there and he's just flat-out ugly anyway.

Gratefully you plop your book bag down on the chair in the bag and take out the big bottles of detergent and fabric softener. You'd thought you were saving money getting them in bulk, now your tired muscles wish you hadn't been so frugal.

Putting the laundry into the washing machine you realize there's one more set of panties you hadn't added. You note that even though the disgusting man is watching he can't see you below the waist. Emboldened by this you wriggle out of the one and only panty you possess that isn't in the machine. Pretending to drop something you bend over and snatch them up, covertly depositing them in with the rest and shivering at the cold air on your now bare pussy.

"There. Now to pretend to sleep," you mutter. Even though the chair is all rough wood without any padding it's still a relief to sit in it, and after making sure the camera is on and hidden beneath the books as it points at the laundry machine you pretend to study.

Though your intent had been to pretend to fall asleep you soon find yourself with your head tilted forward, lightly snoring as you drool on the front of your short, thin summer dress.