Laundry girl

She steps into the room wearing nothing but skin. A young blonde, hair loose, eyes calm. The washing machine waits. She opens it, drops her top inside, then the rest—nothing left to hide. Her hand moves between her thighs, slow at first, then firmer. She leans against the machine, breathing sharper as her fingers work. The spin cycle starts. She matches its rhythm, hips shifting, legs spread. Every movement is for her alone. She stays there until she finishes, legs trembling, mouth open. Then she shuts the door and walks away naked.