She Will be Loved

Ch. 25 Wishful Thinking

Juice carried his laundry basket on his hip, grimacing at the dust covering his pants and shirts. His clothes were filthy with dirt and grime from the open road, and he was stoked to get out of it and wash all of his clothes.

He hadn't seen Angela when he got to the house, and the car she'd been driving wasn't in the driveway; he assumed she was still at work. He hoped he'd be able to throw a load of laundry into the wash and shower before she got back.

As he walked into the small laundry room he ran face first straight into something lacy. The lace fell from whatever it was hanging on into his basket. His eyes widened when he realized what it was, an electric blue lace 'cheekie' panty from like the ones he'd seen in Angela's Victoria's Secret catalog. He looked up from the basket and dropped it in shock at the sight before him. Panties. Panties and bras of all colors and cuts hanging from clothing lines attached to the walls like party decorations. "Holy shit," he breathed, staring entranced at the pretty colors before him, the blue underwear still in his hand.

"Juice?" Angela's voice came from behind him.

He jumped, instinctively shoving the lace panty in his hand in his pocket before whirling around. "Oh um...hey," he stuttered out, feeling his cheeks heat up in a blush.

She looked from his face to the garments hanging behind him. "Oh shit. Sorry about all this," she said without an ounce of embarrassment. She walked in and started pulling them down, throwing them into the basket she already had in there. "I didn't know when you'd be home, and I spend too much money on these babies to throw 'em in the dryer and have 'em get all messed up."

Babies. She called the panties, babies. Because she loved them. Just like he did. He blinked at her, trying to process it all. Angela had the kind of panties he fantasized about girls wearing, ones he'd fantasized about her wearing. "Oh yeah, um...no problem. Just...had my run clothes to...wash," he managed to get out, hoping he sounded somewhat normal.

"I'll get these out of your way then," she said, giving him a smile.

Juice nodded dumbly, trying to ignore the way he could see her dark red lace bra through her tight white tank top. "Don't worry about it. If they're still like...wet," he said, his voice catching on the word. Wet panties. Angela's wet panties. He felt himself start to get hard at the idea of it. Jesus Christ, he had to think of something else or he was going to seriously embarrass himself. He moved the basket in front of his crotch, hoping to hide the situation quickly escalating in his pants. "Um...you can just leave 'em."

She shrugged a shoulder, testing one in her hands. "Think they're good, thanks," she said folding a pair of boyshorts. "How was your run?"

He turned away from her, opening the washer and positioning himself in front of it as he tried to hide his crotch from her. "Oh um...good," he said, separating his whites, darks, and colors into the hamper with the three separate dividers Angela had bought him.  "Was a good run. Fuckin' hot out in Arizona. Lots of sand and shit. SAMTAZ brothers are kinda crazy."

"Bet the girls are hot too," she chimed in, lifting herself up to sit on the dryer beside him.

Not like you and those panties, he wanted to say. "Yeah," he said on a laugh instead. "Literally. Its like a billion degrees over there."

"You get it in?" 

Juice just about choked on his spit. "Holy shit, Ang. What kind of a question is that?"

She shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "We're friends. Just want to make sure you're taken care of."

"I'm fine, thank you," he said, furrowing his brows in confusion. Was she implying she had? Was she really with Esai that night they'd talked? Was that why she hung up so quickly? "Why? Did you?"