“What exactly are we doing here?” he grumbles as I wedge the bottle of detergent into the basket I’ve just handed him.

“Well - we’ve got detergent, dirty clothes, dryer sheets, quarters…and it seems we’re at a laundromat” I answer as I hold the door open for him to pass through - “looks like we’re doing laundry Pace.”

“Thanks Miss Smarty Pants.  You gonna get into college with that wisdom?” he drawls as he places the heavy basket on a counter.  I stick my tongue out at him and start digging through my bag for a roll of quarters.  “See - now this is my point.” he starts.

“I wasn’t aware you had one.” I reply as I scan the place for a set of free washers.

He chuckles a little and leans up against the counter next to me.  “Well, I do - have a point - and that is it is a Friday night.  A gorgeous, Indian Summer Friday night - might I add - that we probably won’t have again for months.”

“Or since Indian Summer only comes around once a year - probably not for another year” I interrupt.  He just drops his head and gives me a playful glare before continuing.

“As I was saying…we are two young, attractive, healthy teenagers in the prime of our sexual lives.  We should be seizing this moment - enjoying our freedom from school and work, and from the watchful eyes of older siblings.  We should be out on the boat right now…”

“Seizing our sexual prime?” I interrupt again.

A delighted grin spreads across his face and he says “yeah - something like that.”

“Pacey…” I sidle up to him and run my fingers lightly over his shoulders and down along his chest.

“Yeah” he already sounds breathless and I can feel him leaning in to smell my hair like he does each time he holds me.

“How did me sticking my tongue out at you send you on this particular diatribe?”

Sliding down so he can look me in the eye he asks “do you really want me to answer that?”

“You know what I really want?” I whisper as I fix him with my sweetest smile.  His eyebrows rise in anticipation, “I really want you to take the clothes basket over to that washer in the corner.”

“Pacey is this yours?” she asks me as she pulls my shirt out of the basket.  Looking up from my very intense reading of the double load washer directions I nod my head.  “Why is your shirt in my laundry?” she demands.

“Because it’s dirty” I respond and try to busy myself with learning the fascinating steps of multiple load laundering.

“And these boxer shorts look very familiar” she notes as she digs deeper through her stuff.

“That’s because you tried to strip them off me last week” I say loudly.  Or at least loud enough to get a rise out of her - which I do.

“Shhhhhhh!!!!!” she looks around the laundromat nervously.  There’s no one else in here except a guy with headphones on mopping up the floor. “Pacey get over here!”

Strolling over to her I start laughing.  “You’re blushing!” I tease as I brush a finger against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her embarrassment.  “Oh no - wait” I pick up the boxers and look them over, “it wasn’t these.  The ones you were so anxious to get me out of had little fish on them.”

She widens her eyes at me and I can’t help my laughter.  After stealing a glance at the back of the guy mopping, she turns to me and mutters “you’re impossible” but her face is slipping into a grin.  I lean down and kiss her and as I pull away she grabs hold of my sleeve.  “If you are going to sneak your laundry into mine - you’re going to learn how to do it yourself.”

“I know how to do laundry” I scoff as I free myself from her grip and shrug my shoulders in what I hope is a very manly display of nonchalance.

“Honey, throwing all your clothes into your girlfriend’s hamper and letting her do it for you as a gesture of her love - is not really knowing how to do laundry.”

“No - I’m pretty sure it is” I counter.  Picking up the boxers I flip over the tag and ‘read’ aloud: “To wash: Bury in girlfriend’s frilly clothes basket.  Let her wash with her fine delicates and other sexy undergarments.  Tell her she’s beautiful…and hey check it out - it says ‘Size: Extra Large’!”

Snatching the item from my hand she tosses it in the machine.  Rolling her eyes she mutters “impossible is too weak a word for what you are.”

“You’re beautiful”

“You’re learning how to do you own laundry” she says as she tugs on my shirt to pull me closer.

To the washing machine.

He listens intently as I explain the notion of fabric softener.  A little too intently for the way he’s been acting.  “Are you listening to me?”

He looks at me with surprise “yeah…this is important to know.”  Then resting his hand lightly on the small of my back he rubs his palm over the hem of my shirt.  “Is that why this feels so good?” his voice is low and tinged with something that has nothing to do with the actual topic.

“What?” I’m caught off guard as his hand slides lower and his fingertips skim along the inside of my skirt’s waistband.

“Your clothes - they always feel so soft - is it because of this?” he tilts his head to the bottle of softener and I swallow hard and nod my head.  “Ah” is all he says and he leaves his hand resting just above my ass.  “Go ahead” he prompts after I realize I’ve forgotten what the hell I was talking about.

“You know - we can wait to do this.  I mean, the repair guy should be out to the house by Monday morning - I can do it then.” I hope he can’t hear the eagerness in my voice - but I know he does.  He always hears every single thing I say under all the words I use to disguise them.

But to his credit he doesn’t use it against me at the moment.  He just smiles and says “nah we’re already here.  We’ve covered the water temperature and the cycles I think I’m ready for separating the colors and the whites.”  And with a light smack on my rear he moves to the other side of me to start emptying the basket.

I watch him as he picks things up and shakes them out, turns socks from inside out to right side in, unbuttons shirt buttons, whistles as he drops clothes into different machines.  He reaches for a pair of jeans and they are swallowed into the black hole of the washer.  “The pockets” I say suddenly.  He looks at me quizzically and I repeat “you have to check the pockets first - make sure nothing is in them.”  I reach past him to pull the pants back out and our hands merge inside one pocket.

As our fingers slide against one another I notice my breathing has changed.  It’s not so normal now - measured.  In fact it sounds an awful lot like arousal.  His sounds no different - but it is warm as he whispers into my hair “good thing you remembered this.”

“Why?” I murmur as my fingers squeeze his.

“Because I wouldn’t want to lose this number that the girl down at the marina gave me.”  Slipping his hand from mine he emerges from the pocket with a receipt in his grasp and a big grin on his face.

“Bite me” I retort as I thrust the jeans back into the washer.

His eyes travel over my body very slowly - flushing me with a heat that starts in the tender space where the base of my belly meets the top of my groin.  “Just tell me where” he growls as he tosses the paper into the trash without ever taking his eyes off of me.

She looks so good when she’s embarrassed.  I only do it enough to make her flush, make her aware of the fact that what’s making her feel that way is the realization that she wants it too.  Wants whatever it is I’m teasing her about.

She used to get bright red and angry with me.  Now she just gets a sexy sort of blush and pretends to ignore the heat between us.  And I’ve known Joey long enough to know that she can never just give in to me.  There has to be some sort of power struggle, some test of wills.

Which is exactly what makes this so damn enticing.  I love to see her fight against her own resistance and give in to what it is she wants.  I’m not trying to make her into some sort of sexual predator - although for the record I would be absolutely fine with that - I just want her to be comfortable expressing her desires to me.  And acting on them wherever, however, and whenever - she needs to.

“Very nice” she compliments me as I carefully measure out the detergent.  “Pour it all around the load - not just in one place.”  I follow her instructions and coat the damp clothing with the thick blue liquid.  Closing each lid I raise my arms in the air in victory and she laughs at me.  “You’re not done yet Mr. Clean.”

“Laundering is hard” I mutter as she hands me quarters to feed the machine.  “Oooh and expensive!”

As the change clinks to the bottom she sighs loudly and says “I wish I’d thought to have you carry the money.  Then I could have used the ol’ ‘is that a roll of quarters in your pocket - or are you just happy to see me?’ line.”

“Josephine Potter!” I gasp in mock indignation, “you offend me with your sexually suggestive comments!”

“Awwww…really?” she coos, “then why don’t you try saying something provocative so we’ll be even?”

Next to us both machines start to rumble as I say “well there’s nothing in my pockets - but I am happy to see you” and give her a wink.

Shaking her head at me she just says with something close to pity in her voice “C’mon Pace - I’d have thought you could do better than that.”

I quickly close the space between us and she turns to face me as I rest my hands on the machine behind her, pinning her between my body and the vibrating washer at her back.  “Then what if I were to say that I want to take you - right now - here against this washing machine?”

Her eyes are shiny as she whispers “that sounds much - much better” and she shifts her body so it touches mine.  I groan a little at the contact and that elicits a satisfied little giggle from her.  “Well?” she says after a minute.

“Well?” I repeat as I look down at her.  She scans around the nearly empty room and looks back at me without a trace of embarrassment clouding her face.

I don’t know what comes over me with him.  Sometimes I think I’m delirious.  He does something to me that makes me out of control - hungry for things that I never knew I wanted before.  I don’t even think I did want them before.  But I want them now.  I want them enough to come on to him in a public place - a laundromat for chrissakes and it’s not even completely dark out.

There’s a man putting his mop away in the corner, while an older woman has entered and is folding the rest of her sheets on the other side of the dryers.  And here I am pressing myself against my boyfriend and challenging him to put his money where his mouth is - so to speak.

“Hey Joey” he murmurs against my forehead.  His lips are soft, heated - bringing no relief to my suddenly fevered state.

“Mmmmmm?”  I rest my hands on his hips and fingers slip into belt loops.  Doing this pulls him closer against me and instinctively I feel my own hips move away from the washer to get nearer to him.  Against my skin his mouth curls up into a grin.

“I think you forgot some dirty clothes.”  His words drip with innuendo and it takes all my power to not move my hands over to his zipper and start ridding him of today’s boxers.

Instead I stretch up a bit so it appears I’m just whispering in his ear, “no - I think I got it all sweetheart.”  Darting my tongue out I dare to lap at his earlobe, and when his hand travels from the machine and grips my upper arm - I take it as an incentive to wrap my teeth around the sensitive flesh of his ear and bite just a little.

“No” his breath is shallow “I definitely think you need to check yourself - clean all your clothes.”  His other hand still rests on the machine behind me but he slides it closer as I hear the door to the laundromat swing open.  Looking quickly behind me I see the man with the headphones has left for the day.  Outside a car pulls up and the woman folding her bedding waves to the driver and starts to pick up her basket.

“Do you need a hand with that?” Pacey tilts back from me and politely offers the woman.  His voice sounds so normal it is almost unrecognizable from the one that was just turning me on.

“Oh! No thank you dear!” she replies as her husband pulls the door open and takes the basket from her.  “Goodnight!” she calls to us and I turn and smile with the biggest superficial grin I can muster at this point.  As soon as the door closes behind her his voice is right back in my ear - the one that makes me very hot and completely bothered.

“Where were we…I believe you need to wash your clothes…the ones you’re wearing.”
My stomach spins and for an instant I can actually believe that if he wants to get me completely naked in this place - he will succeed in doing it.  To further drive this point home he then murmurs “For instance I think your underwear is very dirty.”

I actually gasp and rest my head against his chest to catch myself.  As I run my hands up and down his sides I manage to reply “I think you’re wrong, I just put them on before we came here.”

“Huh…” he shifts and it seems like he is moving away - but really he is just dropping his hand down past my hip.  Finding the hem of my skirt he makes room between us so he can push it up to the middle of my thigh.  I feel like technically - I should stop him - but I have no strength, and certainly no desire - to do that.

Parting my legs slightly his fingers brush tantalizingly over the heated fabric of my panties.  The breath I didn’t know I was holding escapes in an actual hiss as he growls “Well…ok then.  But they are definitely soaking fucking wet.”

She has never let it go this far.  And she’s ready to take it further.  I honestly can’t decide what is the bigger thrill right now - that she is so eager to fool around, or that she is so willing to do it here.

I keep my eye on the door as I whisper “take them off Jo”.  She inhales sharply and the hands that have been roaming over my body move off of me.  Stepping away from her I reluctantly remove my hand from her legs and watch her.  She is flushed again - but with something much more powerful this time.

She hitches her skirt a little higher than where I left it and her hands disappear under the fabric.  When they next appear they are pulling the silky pink material of her underwear down her long, lovely legs.  My jeans strain precariously against my hard-on and I manage to grunt in appreciation as she kicks the garment away from her feet.  When she looks up and meets my eyes she smiles at me triumphantly as I hear myself whisper  “God you are so beautiful.”

Her smile turns to her adorably lopsided grin, “I’m already doing your laundry Pacey - you don’t have to keep saying that.”

“Yes…yes I do” I murmur.  I move back towards her and taking her face in my hands I plunge her into a kiss.  Our mouths are hot - eager - all the intensity of the past hour colliding in one bruising kiss.  Her arms wrap around me and soon her nails scrape over my scalp, dig deeply into my neck - urging me on.

I slip my arms around her waist and lift her off the floor - swiftly placing her back down on top of the washing machine.  When I look up at her she is laughing.  “What’s so funny?” I ask positioning myself in front of her as I run my hands up the smooth skin of her legs.
 
“The boathouse” she giggles again as she begins planting kisses along my hairline, “this is like that time we christened your boat - beforehand when we were alone in the boathouse.”

“Ah yes - the grope fest” I say recalling her words that day.  “Now that was good - but I have to say this is much better.  For one thing - there is vibrating machinery involved.” Playfully she smacks my head, “for another - you are wearing an easy access skirt and not a damn thing underneath it.”

“But - ” she trails baby kisses over my nose and across my eyelids “we could still get caught.”

“Yes but isn’t that part of the fun of it?” I ask as I slide her body closer to the edge of the machine.  I could devour this girl - easily - right now if she’d let me.

Her legs wrap around me bringing me tighter against her as she declares “well getting caught might mean we’d have to spend another night in a cell.”

“And that’s a distinct possibility since Deputy Doug likes to do stakeouts at the local wash and drys”

She looks at me for a minute with eyes wide - “you’re kidding - right?” before turning to look out the windows to the darkened street.

“Wellllll…” I run my hands over her thighs, bringing them up to hold her waist “he has this theory - about criminals always needing clean clothing.  I don't think it’s ever panned out for him though.  At the most…” I move a hand up to stroke her breast and she turns back towards me and wets her lips “…he’s just caught some over-sexed high school kids going at it during the rinse cycle.”

“Watch the door Pace” she murmurs as she starts to nuzzle my neck, “and shut up.”

Somewhere between his hand going up my shirt and my acquiescing to remove my bra from underneath it - I realize that this arrangement is entirely unfair.  Not to mention sexist.

So starting with the top button of his shirt I unhook a few, taking my time between each to feel along his chest, scratch at him a little because I love to hear him moan my name.  I’m only at the middle button when he stops kissing me and asks me what I’m doing.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I try to be coy as I take the opportunity to let both my hands finish off the shirt, “actually - what does it feel like I’m doing?”

“Oh no - I don’t think so Jo” he removes my hands and starts reversing my work.

“Hey!”

“Hey nothing - I’ve got nothing on under here!” he finishes buttoning up and comes back towards me.

“Now wait a minute” I hold him back with a hand, “how come I can sit here with no underwear on - but you won’t remove your shirt? This doesn’t seem like a fair seduction at all.”

Trying to charm his way back he takes my hand off his chest and kisses my palm, then my wrist, then starts up my arm. “That’s not an answer” I attempt to sound unmoved but I’m not very convincing.  When he reaches my neck he has won the battle.  Or so he thinks: “your shirt is dirty” I whisper.

He chuckles against my throat and says “I’m not falling for that one Potter” as he kisses me on the mouth.  Through his kisses he mutters “I’m not some horny chick who gets off on stripping for her boyfriend in public places.”  When I bite his lip in response he pulls away crying “ow!!” and I lean over to grab my bag off the other washer.  As I dig through it I come up with the perfect plan.

“Now what are you doing?” he’s confused as I pull out a mirror and the lipstick Bessie always insists I carry around with me.  As I carefully apply it to my lips I preen a little - and try not to burst out laughing at the look of utter bewilderment on his face.

Dropping the stuff into my bag I toss it aside again and reach out to pull him back to me.  I make like I am going to go kiss him on the mouth - but only leave a whisper of a touch against his lips as I aim lower.  Running my hand along his neck I take hold of his collar in my fingers and bring it to my lips - pressing the dark, rich color deep into the light material of his shirt.

“There’s lipstick on your collar Pacey.  It looks like you need to wash that shirt after all.”

I love this girl.  I loved her when we walked in this place, I loved her when she played along with my little games.  But now that she has turned the tables on me and is playing the game like a pro? I fucking love this girl.

With one hand on the button of my shirt I use the other to gesture to the sign by the front door “You know right there it says patrons must wear shirts and shoes on the premises at all times.”

She barely even acknowledges the sign as she gestures to one that is up behind my head: “well that one says ‘please do not sit on the washing machines’ so it looks we’ll both be in contempt of laundromat etiquette.”

I turn to look behind me and sure enough - we’re already breaking laundry code.  Looking back at her she has the most self-satisfied grin I have ever seen on someone besides myself.  Next to her is her discarded bra, below that her panties are abandoned on the floor.  I have to admit that she does have a point.  Of course I don’t have to admit that to her.

“You’re pretty proud of yourself aren’t you?” I ask as I start to unbutton the shirt.  She just smiles some more - rubbing her finger along her lips to smooth out the lipstick. “But you know - this still isn’t really fair.  I mean - no one can see that you are missing clothing.  You’re still covered.  But me? C’mon Jo - I’ll be naked from the waist up! Anyone could walk in and see that right away!”

She jumps off the washer and almost instantaneously it comes to a stop.  Coming over she walks behind me and slides the shirt off of my shoulders.  Her fingers feel cool as they brush against my bare back. “You’re not buying any of this - are you?” I mutter.  The shirt flies past me as she aims for the basket and I feel her body against mine - the hardness of her nipples press through her shirt to make my entire body ache with pleasure.

I start to say her name but a noise jerks my eyes up to the door and suddenly there is somebody coming through it.  Without even thinking I drop to the floor leaving her standing there above me - dazed and very startled by the sudden stop to our activity.

She recovers nicely though.  She looks down at me briefly and then looks towards the machines.  Walking back over to them she opens the lid and starts to calmly take out the wet clothes.  Following her lead I move over to rest my back against the very cold washer.  I look around for my shirt but it’s gone - into the basket that she has picked up and placed above me.

“Yeah - nice night” she says sweetly.  Looking up I realize she must be talking to the intruder - whoever the hell just interrupted one of the most thrilling nights of my young life.  I can’t hear the other person but only Joey’s responses.  She is acting so normal no one would ever guess what she has been up to in here this evening.  And I just really can’t let her get away with that as I’m forced to hide here - half-naked behind a washing machine.

I swear I almost came standing right there at the washer - some oblivious person across the room from me, the sweet smell of Tide, the soft buzz of the machinery - and Pacey below me running his hands all along my legs.

No - not just hands - mouth, tongue, lips, even teeth.  He absolutely tortured me.  A soft kiss on the back of my knee as his fingers wound up my thigh.  A gentle rub of my shin as his tongue danced along my calf.

I pray the temperature breaks tomorrow so I can wear the pants that are going to be necessary to hide the marks of his unbelievably erotic torment.

The worst part was how slow and deliberate he was - each touch forcing a harder response from me.  I had to close my eyes to try and breathe, bite my lip to keep from crying out.  And I didn’t dare put a hand down to try and scold him because I can only imagine what he’d have done with that.

Instead I buried my hands in the cool, heavy wetness of the clothes.  Eagerly pulling them out and gripping so tightly sometimes the blood appeared to drain from my fingers.

Two hours ago I would have roundly rejected the very idea of fooling around with my boyfriend in a brightly lit and busy public establishment.

An hour ago I would have been a little surprised - but excited to be exchanging come-ons with him and even agreeing to some covert groping while hidden from view.

But at that moment with Pacey beneath me and a potential audience not that far away - I wanted nothing more than to move down over him and let him slide deep inside of me.  The absolute craving for satisfaction truly obliterated all rational thoughts from my head.
And if a group of tourists fresh off a ferry hadn’t arrived to do their laundry, I don’t dare consider what kind of humiliating predicament we might have gotten ourselves into.

But I can definitely imagine it.

Who knew Friday night was such a popular time to do laundry?  Why aren’t these people out eating, drinking, seeing a movie?  Don’t they want to go partake in some illicit sexual activities with their significant others?

Goddamn.

I briefly entertain the notion of offering to do all their wash for them if they’ll leave us alone for just another half hour.  But then the realization that I would actually have to do the laundry as opposed to Joey kinda killed the entire plan.

Next to me she sighs loudly and goes over to check the dryer for the third time in the last 15 minutes.

“The elapsed time is on the machine” I remind as I have the last three times in as many minutes.  She looks at the digital numbers which seem to taunt us and sighs yet again before returning to her position resting against the counter with me.

Behind us a couple laughs as they debate whose detergent they should use and I notice Joey scowling.  “Hey” I nudge her arm, “If you want we can stay here as late as we have to just to keep those two from having any kind of fun!”

My joke falls flat as she turns the scowl on me “we’re leaving as soon as it’s done Pacey” she says with no room to argue.

“Yes ma’am!” I salute her.  “Hey you want me to call you that later?  Do a little boss lady role-playing thing?” my salacious grin is ignored as she makes a return trip to the dryer.

After peering in the window at the tumbling clothes she walks back to me and says under her breath “the only thing I want to do is get out of here so I can be alone with you.”

I refrain from teasing her because she truly looks dejected.  “Aw…c’mere” I reach for her and pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her waist.  “I’m sorry I wound you up back there then couldn’t follow through on it.”

She looks up at me through her dark lashes “no you’re not” she pouts.

Kissing her nose I chuckle “you’re right.  I’m not sorry I did it - but I am sorry that we got interrupted.”

“Me too.”  She starts to turn to look back at the dryer but instead blows out a deep breath and seems to relent a bit.  “I mean - the nerve of all these people! Coming into a public laundromat just as we were about to…you know…”

“Fulfill my fantasy letter to Penthouse Forum? ‘I never thought these stories were real until it happened to me…’!” I joke as she starts laughing.  Satisfied that I’ve lifted her spirits for the moment, I kiss her and she relaxes in my arms.  “Joey…” I murmur as I break the kiss.

“What?”

“The dryer just stopped.”

“OK let’s go” I say quickly as I grab the package of dryer sheets and toss them into my bag.

“What are you talking about?” he asks as he dumps the clothes I just threw into the basket all over the counter.

“Pacey! What are you doing?”  It must almost be a shout because a few people look over in our direction.  I imagine what they see is a highly frustrated girl shooting daggers at her boyfriend with the big, stupid grin on his face.

“You have to fold the clothes Jo - so they don’t get wrinkled.”  Carefully he starts shaking out clothes and folding them neatly.  “C’mon” he urges and when I don’t move from standing there slack-jawed he adds “if we both do it we’ll be done faster.”

Begrudgingly I drop my bag and move next to him.  From the corner of my eye I watch him make orderly piles of his boxers, my shirts, pajamas, bras.  Everything separated and folded and looking like nothing I’ve ever seen Pacey do before in my life.  “You’ve done this before!  You totally know how to do laundry!!”  He just smiles and keeps going.  “You just wanted me to do your laundry for you - didn’t you?”

“Ah Joey - I didn’t want to do this at all.  This was your idea for Friday date night, remember?”

“Ah! It was a necessity!  You were the one who wanted to come along and then pretended you didn’t know what to do.”

“No” he corrects me “you assumed I didn’t know and took it upon your high functioning self to teach me.  You’ve met my mother and seen her less than stellar housekeeping skills.  Do you really think I’d never done my own laundry before?”

He’s right which as always is totally annoying.  As I pause to think it over he snags the jeans I was holding and folds them up.  “Let’s go” he says.

“Huh?”  I look over the counter and everything is done.  He’s swiftly putting it all into the basket so we can leave.

“But you know…” he says turning back to me, “there is one thing I really don’t know how to do.  Something I definitely need a lesson in.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s that?”

“Well it’s pretty hot, a little steamy - you have to be real careful when you do it or you might get burned.”

As I stand right next to him I can’t believe the deep hunger of my own voice “Well I hope I can help.”

“I think you can Jo” and then he makes a request that only Pacey could make sound so intriguingly dirty, “teach me how to iron.”

“I have to tell ya” I say as I dig the keys out of my pocket to start the truck, “that was probably the best date of my entire life.”

Next to me she laughs as her door slams shut.  “You know Pacey - the date isn’t over yet.”

“Damn!” I mutter, slipping the car into gear “where to next then? The market? Library? Wanna go at it in the historical fiction section?”

Next to me I notice her stretch and as her shirt moves up her midriff and her skirt shifts in the seat - I remember that she’s got nothing on underneath them.  “You know what?”  I press my foot to the gas “screw the laundromat.  If I don’t get somewhere fast and get you out of those clothes, we’re going to end up like one of the couples that Doug actually does catch.  The ones haphazardly pulled off to the side of the road with the windows steamed up.”

“Boat, B&B, or beach house?” she offers.

“Boat. I can see the docks from here.”  I speed towards the marina and she’s got her seatbelt undone before I’ve even put it into park.  “Hey Joey” I lean over the basket of clean clothes to grab her wrist before she hops out.  “Anytime you wanna do laundry - let me know.”

She breaks into a wide smile “so now you’ve got nothing against doing laundry?”

“I’ve got nothing against doing laundry with you.  Actually…that sounds like a fantastic new code phrase.  You know like at school - I say ‘hey we have to go do laundry now’ and no one will give us dirty looks.”

“I’ll still give you dirty looks Pace.”

“Well then there’s another incentive!”  We eagerly head towards the slip and I take her hand as she steps off the dock onto the boat. “By the way, just what are you going to tell Bessie when I bring you home late tonight?”

She’s already on the deck and unlatching the door of the hold.  Turning to look back at me she says “I’ll tell her we were doing laundry” before she disappears into the secluded darkness below.