Taking Out The Laundry (F/F)

[lanadelgagged]

‘That would be seventeen dollars and twenty-five cents.’


Courtney reached for her purse and drew a couple of crumpled bank notes, placing them on top of the counter. She reached behind the clear plastic curtain to inspect her freshly laundered clothes, neatly disposed on coathangers.


‘Excuse me, these aren’t mine.’ — she exclaimed, averting her gaze towards the clerk.

‘Yes they are.’ — he responded, a discreet burst of nervous laughter blurted out his mouth. —‘Your husband brought them in himself you see.’

‘Oh really?’


Courtney’s expression suddenly contorted with suspicion as she caressed the soft silk of the mysterious gown. She had not seen such a garment in her life, if it was not hers then, who did it belong to? The same thought plagued her head when she laid eyes on the others: a black pencil skirt, and a white girdle. The clerk was too focused on the cash register to notice the middle-aged lady rummaging through the plastic covers.


‘Are you sure you didn’t put these here by mistake?’

‘Madam, we tag all items of clothing as soon as they arrive. Plus, I clearly remember your husband dropping them in a laundry bag just a few days ago!’ — his response was direct as if trying to defuse the accusation.


In a swift motion, Courtney took her laundry and the mysterious garments and made her way to the exit. It was noon on a clear summer’s day and the heat was stifling, the moment she set foot outside the laundromat she started looking for a cab. It did not take her long to return home; the house was empty, and her husband was still at work and would not be home until half past five. This, paired with the fact that Courtney had already cooked lunch, meant she had time to kill. As she entered the master bedroom with the laundry bag, she began folding her husband’s clothes, then her own, and neatly arranged them into a pile before putting them inside the closet. But the other garments she did not dare touch. It felt like disturbing a crime scene, almost as if the mere presence of them was invasive. Courtney examined them much more thoroughly than before, but whatever she wanted to find out just wasn’t there. As a matter of fact, she did not even know what she was looking for, the only thing that stood out was the tags: they were written in German, and they showed European sizes. If the fact that these clothes made it to her husband’s laundry bags was not enough to arise suspicion, this indeed was. Her husband Lamonte works in an international law firm, it is not uncommon for him and his co-workers to deal with foreigners. Not two months ago, Lamonte spoke to her about an exchange program his company was introducing.


It all started falling into place, Courtney resolved that the best course of action was to hide the clothes and pretend nothing happened. And so she did. As she finished folding the laundry she took the three items and hid them under the mattress, between the bed frame and the cushions. Perhaps suspicion was getting the best of her, maybe it was just an innocent confusion from the guy in the laundromat. But some deeply-rooted conscience inside her told her otherwise, the irreversible force of female intuition…


Courtney sat on the couch watching television, figuring her husband would be home in about an hour. She was startled by the phone ringing from the studio upstairs, it rang for almost a full minute echoing across the walls of the house. Courtney rushed upstairs, dashing through the door of Lamonte’s studio. But the answering machine substituted the ringing right before she could reach for the phone. A robotic female voice invaded the room:


‘The number you’ve reached is not available at the moment. Please leave your message after the beep.’


Courtney was about to leave the room, but right after the ominous beep resounded something caught her attention…


‘Hey Lamonte, I guess you must be still at work…’ — a female voice summoned at the other end of the line, she spoke intently with a strong German accent. — ‘Anyway, don’t forget about our date tonight. Room 748, you know where! See you tonight.’


The message finished the same way it started, with an ominous beeping noise that added to Courtney’s irritation. She rubbed her chin and clenched her teeth trying to curb her anger, it was almost too obvious to be true. But her innocence was shattered by that voice. ‘Who is she? I wanna know who she is.’ — She thought to herself, fighting a battle against her husband that she had invented inside her head. But Courtney was wise enough to know a sudden confrontation would lead nowhere, so the minute her husband was home, she put a broad smile on her face and greeted him in the usual fashion. It had been a long day for him and Lamonte was exhausted.


‘How was your day Dear?’ — inquired Courtney, with the sweetest of voices.

‘A bit rough, we’re still working on that airline case and it’s taking us longer than we anticipated…’ — Lamonte flopped on the sofa and stared blankly at the television screen.


Courtney was heading for the kitchen to offer her husband some snacks when she hear Lamonte yelling:


‘Oh honey, by the way…’

‘Yeah?’ — she replied, leaning against the doorframe.

‘Don’t make me dinner tonight okay? The whole office is throwing a dinner party Downtown.’

‘Oh really? Boys’ night out?’

‘Yeah!’ — he exclaimed, not noticing the irony in his wife’s tone. — ‘But don’t worry, I won’t be home too late in the evening.’

‘All right.’


‘Boys’ night out, he really must think I’m stupid. Hell, he’s the stupid one here.’ — Courtney thought to herself as she disappeared inside the kitchen, wary that a sudden burst of fury would be hard to explain. Very slowly indeed, the pieces of the puzzle began falling into place: the message, the clothes, the generic excuse… Courtney was laying on the bed reading a book, but her mind would not by any means allow her to focus on those pages. She leafed through it, like a child whose parents have forced him to sit and read. The late hours of the afternoon, as her husband was getting dressed for the occasion was enough for her to hatch a scheme. ‘Room 738, that’s odd… I don’t know of many hotels in town that have more than five stories.’ — She deduced. Courtney reached for her computer and typed the closest hotels. And sure enough, she found a match: The Clearmont Hotel, ten stories high, and also the tallest building in town. Now that she had an address and a room number, all she needed to figure out was the time.


Lamonte came out of the shower at around seven in the afternoon, slipping into a two-piece charcoal suit with a silk red tie. When he entered the bedroom to show his ensemble to Courtney, his wife noticed the smell of cologne. It was stronger than ever before, suggesting he had used more than usual, more than he puts on when he takes Courtney out for dinner.


‘You’re looking very sharp Dear.’


Lamonte planted a kiss on her wife’s lips, once their lips parted he headed for the front door. Courtney could not stand the thought of his lips fusing into another woman’s, irate and furious she felt her anger like bugs crawling up her skin. Once the door slammed shut, it was time for action. The Clearmont was only a few subway stops from Courtney’s house, she slipped into a black tank top and jeans, carrying the mysterious garments in a laundry bag. The sliding subway doors slammed shut and the carriage roared, echoing through the underground walls. The housewife sat motionless, with a blank stare that concealed both her thirst for revenge and her erratic scheme. She counted the stops, and when she set foot at the station Courtney realized just how flawed and improvised her plan was. One could not even call it a plan, but her confidence guided her decisively through the hotel lobby. Courtney locked eyes with the clerk at the reception desk, returning a forced smile. She loitered by the lifts, Courtney needed a key to access the upper floors, so she patiently waited for guests to arrive. Soon enough, a group of three German tourists lead by a guide stepped in. One of them pushed the buttons by the side, and the lift doors opened. It was perhaps the hardest grudge of the operation, or so she thought. Courtney brought her finger to the panel intently, and the seventh floor’s button lit up.


The lift doors opened once again, before her, an endless maze of hallways and rooms that stretched as far as her eyes could see. A golden pool of light bathed the matrix of carpets, it was almost like a labyrinth. Courtney glared at the room numbers, as she delved deeper into the carpeted maze she searched for room 738. Following the room numbers lead her to an intersection in the middle of the hallway, the housewife looked both ways and noticed a maintenance cart parked right outside one of the rooms. Her instincts urged her to walk in that direction, as she neared the cart, she realized it was placed right in front of room 738. She inspected the cart silently, it seemed to belong to the janitor, but its contents revealed the tools of a plumber. Courtney noticed one of the plastic drawers in the cart, filled with rolls of silver duct tape. Without a single sound, she drew one from the pile and stashed it inside the laundry bag. It was at this moment when she noticed, the door was slightly ajar, and the muffled noises of a wrench and dripping water crossed the door. The sounds stopped and were quickly replaced by muffled footsteps nearing the door. Behind it, the silhouette of a tall man dressed in blue overalls appeared before Courtney’s eyes, prompting a sudden reaction.


‘Oh, sorry I startled you, Miss. Is this your room?’

‘Yeah, yes it is. Can I come in?’ — Courtney inquired, having mused a thought for a minute.

‘Sure thing, I’m almost finished. It should only take a few more minutes.’ — the maintenance man held the door open for her, before returning to his duties.


As Courtney stepped in, she noticed the room was almost immaculate. The linens on the bed let out a pleasantly fresh scent that filled the room, the desk was empty safe for a laptop computer connected to the outlet. To her left-hand side, Courtney noticed an open suitcase. The luggage was filled with clothing, female underwear, a camcorder and other personal effects, including a German passport. Thus her suspicions were confirmed. As she rummaged through the suitcase, she drew a few pairs of stockings and knee socks, and much like before, she stashed them inside the laundry bag. Just as she finished sealing up the bag, the maintenance man emerged from the bathroom, wrench in hand.


‘Sorry for the disturbance, it’s all taken care of now. Have a good night!’ — the tall man carried himself with a bright smile as he headed for the door.

‘Thank you, have a good night.’


The door slammed shut behind him and Courtney was left on her own to wait. All scenarios rushed through her mind like bursts of flashing light, but the reality was she had no clue what might happen next. Courtney glanced at her wristwatch, it was half-past past eleven and she figured it would not take long for her cheating husband to arrive. She resolved turning off the lights would be the best course of action, so as not to arise suspicion. The room was enveloped in the darkness of the night, the lights from the downtown area illuminated the edges of the room dimly. As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, Courtney carried the laundry bag and herself inside the wardrobe. She left the door slightly ajar so she could both see and hear them eventually show up. The waiting game began a 23:35 and went on until Courtney had lost track of time. Her senses enhanced, she could hear a pin drop to the floor, and the room around her seemed different as the light from the street bounced off its corners. Then came the palpitations, and the hyperventilating. Was her husband’s affair enough to justify what she was doing?


All of a sudden, the sound of the doorknob turning brought her to her senses. As it opened, the room filled with light and sound, someone was taking the first footsteps inside. She could hear the person, but not see them. Whoever was inside with her shut the door behind them, and made their way to the bathroom to open the faucet. Courtney held her breath, peeping inside the wardrobe, but she was willing to remain patient. She felt the stranger’s footsteps coming closer to her until she finally caught a glimpse. Before her eyes, and about to sit on the edge of the bed, a tall blonde woman, from the features of her face veiled in makeup Courtney deduced she must be in her mid-thirties. Her attire of utmost formality was made up of a white blouse, a black skirt and open-toe heels, which she kicked the minute she sat on the bed. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and as she undid it, strands of blond curly hair cascaded from her scalp. The woman rubbed her aching feet, she seemed exhausted but blissfully unaware of the mischievous intruder hiding inside the wardrobe. It was only after a few minutes had passed that she removed her blouse and neared the wardrobe, holding it in her hands. Courtney’s heart was racing, she had to fight to control her breathing, which grew heavier with every step the stranger took.


The sliding wardrobe door opened, and in an instant, Courtney was face-to-face with the woman. They locked eyes, and time seemed to freeze, but as her eyes widened, the blonde woman let out a piercing shriek. Pale and puzzled she uttered:


‘Was zur Hölle?’ — she yelled off the top of her lungs.


Before she could react, Courtney jumped from the wardrobe and gripped her right hand tightly, her motion was so sudden it caused her to drop the laundry bag. To subdue her screams, Courtney clasped her lips together with her hands, but without a firm grip, she could not stop her for too long. The German woman struggled with all her might, and it seemed Courtney had lost the grasp on the situation for a while. She made a run for the door, but Courtney cut her escape route, pushing her on top of the bed. Her body plummeted onto the mattress, with Courtney pinning her down. She writhed and contorted her body in the bed, trying to rid of her captor’s grip, her complaints were audible but Courtney understood not a single word. The laundry bag had fallen close to the edge of the bed, all it took is for Courtney to stretch her arm to grab it. The weight of her body fell on the struggling German lady, whose attempts at escaping were starting to prove useless. As she unzipped the bag, Courtney found one of the woman’s black stockings. She wrapped it around her left wrist, tying a knot at the end, the stockings seemed to stretch allowing Courtney to stretch the woman’s arms to the corners of the bed. The same would happen to her right hand, as she grabbed the soft skin of her wrists and tightened the stocking, they locked eyes in a defiant stare. Her struggles ceased for a minute. Wary that her screams may penetrate the walls of the room and draw unwanted attention, Courtney knew she had to act fast.


With the German woman’s hands stretched to the corners of the bed, Courtney felt the freedom she had taken from her. She reached for the bag a second time and allowed its contents to flop and scatter around the bed haphazardly. At this moment, she decided to end her yelling: she reached for the roll of silver tape and scraped her fingers across the surface. It did not take long for her to find a tear in the material, the tape unspooled for the roll filling the room with a sharp noise, almost loud enough to drown out her pleas for help. Her luscious lips became sealed by the silver material, suffocating her screams, she wrapped the tape around her head several times until all she could hear were muffled garble. No matter how frantically she flailed her arms, and how intensely she kicked her legs in the air, she was aware of the extent of her predicament.


‘That should keep you nice and quiet until my husband arrives. You bitch.’ — Courtney claimed, tossing the roll of tape to one side of the bed.


Courtney’s remark drew a quizzical look on her captive’s face. Her unwavering efforts meant that even subdued by the gag, her muffled grunts filled the room to Courtney’s annoyance. Wrapping her hands around her neck and pressing with gentle force, Courtney cocked her head towards the helpless lady as if leaning for a kiss.


‘Shut the hell up, or you’ll regret it…’ — she whispered.


Her words proved very effective, her muffled grans were subdued and followed with profuse panting. She felt her captive’s breath growing heavier, and her eyes growing wider as they followed Courtney’s movements. The bed was full of different garments, most prominently knee socks and pairs of stockings. It was exactly those which Courtney used to bind her legs, her menacing whispers had also served to curb her wailing legs, allowing her to tie her ankles together with a pair of knee socks. Once the knots were tightened around her skin, Courtney repeated the same movement on her calves, knees and thighs, in an almost ritualistic manner. The only garment left in the bed was a pair of tan tights, which she used to fashion a crotch rope. When the woman felt the nylons caressing her private parts and tightening around, she let out an audible shriek through her stifling gag:


‘MMMMMPHHHH!’ — she writhed on the bed as far as her restraints allowed, the scream was so loud she had to catch her breath shortly afterwards.


But she could have screamed even louder, Courtney would have still ignored her. After straddling and pinning her body for a while, her captor decided to leave the bed and calculate her next move. Courtney walked around the bed, casting glances at her victim in the ecstasy of revenge. She figured it would only be a matter of time before her cheating husband showed up. In the meantime though, she had to keep a lid on her captive’s elusive attempts at breaking free. The helpless woman must have thought this was a robbery, Courtney began to rummage through her suitcase once again and even checked her passport. Her name was Sabine, from Bonn. Courtney carried herself around the room with a guilt-ridden stare, waiting for the hours to pass. But the longer she waited, the more insecure she became about her plan. Sabine had not moved a single inch since she was bound, but Courtney’s worries had shifted. Where could her husband be? Why was it taking him so long to come? After all, the message was very straightforward. Could she have got the wrong room number? Then Courtney remembered she had brought the mysterious garments with her: she reached for the laundry bag and neatly arranged them on top of the bed. Sabine’s helpless eyes locked on her captor as she held the white girdle to her.


‘This is yours, right?’ — Courtney inquired, her voice trembling.


Sabine observed the garment, taking more time than she needed. She shook her head from side to side and mumbled through her gag. It soon became apparent that those items of clothing did not belong to her, not the girdle, nor the pencil skirt, and even less the silk nightgown. They were two sizes larger than her body. Courtney’s face turned pale, frozen in place.


‘Oh my god, what have I done!’ — Courtney sat on the chair and held her head between her hands.


But her ruminating thoughts were brought to an end as she heard someone knocking on the door. Sabine turned her head towards the door and yelled through her gag as loudly as ever, begging for her muffled pleas to be attended to. She walked towards the door, at a slow pace. Could it be her husband at last? Courtney felt the trepidation crawling up her skin, the cold steel of the doorknob sent shivers down her spine. She grabbed the handle firmly, took a deep breath, and opened the door, expecting her husband.


But instead, behind the door stood a short stocky man draped in his pyjamas.


‘Sorry, would you mind keeping it down here? We’re trying to sleep.’

‘Sure, um. No problem.’ — she said, in faltering bursts.

‘Thank you.’


As the silhouette of the man faded in the doorway, Courtney laid eyes on the room number.


‘738…’

[beeblebrox883]

Can’t wait for the next part!!

[GreyLord]

Oops! Big things can happen from small mistakes. I wonder what comes next, [mention]lanadelgagged[/mention]. Good writing.

[dymoke]

oh me oh my, the next bit is gonna be tricky, ha!