"The Laundromat King" (closed)

[PennySaver]

"The Laundromat King"​

Alexis Frink walked into the rundown, inner city laundromat looking like anything other than a housewife wanting to do her family's clothes. She looked about for a moment, noting an overabundance of Out Of Order signs on washing machines, dryers, and even the change machine.

There were only a handful of patrons at the moment; honestly, two of them were sleeping in chairs in the corner and had the appearance of homeless people, simply trying to get out the late March chill. She looked to the heating vents high on the wall; the little pieces of thread tied there to indicate that air was flowing were motionless, making Alexis wonder if there was any heating other than that being produced by the humidity raising clothes dryers.

A man stood up from behind a machine on which he was working and looked her way. The expression on his face as he looked her over wasn't surprising to Alexis; this was not her regular Wednesday afternoon hangout. She headed down the aisle between the washer row; the soles and five inch, red heels of her above-the-knee, black leather boots clacked across the tile emphasizing her confidence.

"Michael Sheehan, I presume," she stated more than asked as she looked over the front load machines. She waggled a long finger in a Come with me gesture and said, "We should talk in your office."

Alexis strode straight to the back of the establishment and into the little room in the corner. As she waited, she glanced about at the furnishings and features: last year's calendar still pinned to the wall, a mess of Things To Do type lists and PostIts on a bulletin board that was affixed with three different kinds of nail or screw, a stack of bills -- some opened, some not -- that without fail were stamped with red letters reading Past Due or Final Notice!

When the man entered his own office, Alexis politely swung the door shut. Then, reaching again and again into her fashionable purse, she pulled out and dropped onto his desk bundle after bundle of cash in denominations of $20, $50, and $100.

"I am aware that the original deal with Skeeter was that your cut would be $10,000," Alexis explained as she waggled a last bundle of cash that was in fact that amount. She tossed it atop the other bundles -- they amounted to almost $300,000 -- and continued her explanation, "But Skeeter was very impressed with you and trusts you … and I have always been impressed with and have always trusted Skeeter … so … until you give me a reason not to be impressed with and trust you … I will."

She looked to the money on the desk, then back to the man with the confused expression on his face. And confused he should be! His dealings with Skeeter had been simple: mule a delivery of cocaine from Toronto to Detroit and collect ten grand. Nothing had been said about further operations, particularly involving a tall, leggy, bosomy Goddess with a fortune in her purse.

"I'll be back Friday after this one … ten days, to pick up my cleaned money," she said without any explanation of how Michael was supposed to launder this amount of money through an establishment that was barely doing $400/day. "You keep eight percent."

She looked at him for a moment, then asked, "Questions?"

 

[BeachBum25]

Michael Sheehan worked a shitty job managing a rundown laundromat in a not-very-good part of town. He barely took in any money, and what little money he took in went to making sure that at least a couple of the washers and dryers continued to work. He was always spending money to keep the crappy business afloat and he was always looking for a way to get out of the business and into something that could make him some real cash.

Skeeter was a friend oh Michael's from high school. They had never really been close. Actually, you could say they were friendly and not really friends. He was surprised to see Skeeter walk through the door one day and tell him he had a business proposition.

Skeeter said that his bosses needed a new face and were willing to pay 10 grand for one simple task. Michael was immediately interested. He was only mildly taken aback when he found out that he was going to be running drugs... internationally. Granted, it was just from Toronto to Detroit, but that was still international.

Michael was sold by Skeeter on the fact that there would be no reason for anyone to suspect him. He would drive to Toronto spend two days as a tourist, and return home with the package. It was simple. There was nothing about Michael to send any warning signals.

The transaction went well on all fronts. Michael was able to deliver it without the smallest of problems. he was told that Skeeter would deliver his money. He expected Skeeter to come by the laundromat right away and take care of him.

When she walked through the door, his draw dropped. He had never seen a woman so stunning. When she directed him to the office, he went without questioning her. At that moment, he would have followed her anywhere.

His office wasn't exactly the greatest place to conduct business, but she did not seem to mind. Michael watched as she dropped bundle of money after bundle of money on the desk. His eyes practically bulged out of his head as he tried to keep track of how much she dropped on the desk.

Listening to her proposition, well, not really a proposition, because as far as she was concerned, it was a done deal, Michael realized that he was being told he had to do some laundering of money. How ironic it was that he was expected to launder money through his laundromat.

"Questions?"

He was too stunned to be able to think about questions. He shrugged his shoulders and then watched her walk out the door... his eyes fixed on her amazing ass as she left. After she was gone, his mind started to focus. "How the fuck am I going to launder all of this money out of this shithole in 10 days?"

He got himself together enough to put the money in a bag and go to the bank that he had his "business account" with, and opened a safe deposit box. He put the money in the safe deposit box while he figured out what his next step would be.

Figuring that he was going to make $24,000.00 for the 10 days, he had to spend some of that to be able to wash it. He found another laundromat that was a rent to own. It was one that was making more money than his place, so, he used some of the potential profits to sign the deal.

He figured that he could withdraw the little money that he had in his account and use that to wash some of the money, but that still meant he had to take in over $25,000.00 each day to do what was necessary to complete the task.

He was going to have to be creative.

 

[PennySaver]

Karen emerged from Michael's kitchen with a bottle of wine, two mismatched glasses, and a confused expression. "Okay, so … let me get this straight. You're on the verge of bankruptcy … the laundry is about to fall down around your feet … you have a stack of bills to choke a horse … and you buy another laundry...!"

She plopped down on the couch beside her Friend-With-Benefits, meet his gaze for a moment, then laughs in disbelief. Leaning forward, she plants a kiss on his lips and pulls back to laugh yet again. "What are you thinking? Is there some master plan I just don't understand, 'cause … I mean, the last time we talked … well … I mean you almost sounded like your were ready to burn the place down for the insurance … except that you then remembered that you don't have insurance!"

Karen poured Michael a glass of wine, then poured one for her and set the bottle on the coffee table. She turned her back to him and cuddled up into his arms until she was totally comfortable. And comfortable she most definitely was. She and Michael might have been bumping uglies on occasion these days -- which was very nice or Karen wouldn't be doing it -- but the true source of the comfort she had here and now was the history they shared going all the way back to, what, third grade?

The two of them had lived in the same Detroit neighborhood from the days they were born. Of course, what with Michael being 3 years her senior, he'd lived there longer than she had. Despite the difference in age and gender, they'd been besties all their lives. They'd played frisbee and badminton in one another's yards; they'd been in band together from elementary through junior high, after which music had been dropped because of budget constraints; they'd been one another's dates to the Junior Prom because no one else wanted to go with them; in high school Karen had touted Michael's possibilities as a boyfriend in an effort to get his V-card punched; when a Senior class linebacker tried to have his way with Karen out back of the football stadium when she was still a sophomore, Michael had interceded and broke the man's nose and jaw.

They'd been there for one another every time, anytime … right up to, including, and after the first time they'd made love. Karen was just out of college and having a rough time socially; she'd been through a series of verbally and sometimes physically abusive boyfriends, and she couldn't even count the number of times Michael had picked her sobbing ass up and taken her home to home her through the night. One of those nights, Karen needed more from her long time friend; they talked it out for almost three hours, knowing that it would probably be the most awkward experience of their lives.

Ironically, it turned out to be sweet and loving and -- thankfully -- just what Karen had needed sexually. Michael it turned out was one helluva a fucking lay as she called him the next morning. They didn't think they'd ever do it again … but they did. That was almost four years ago, and every couple of months since then -- sometimes every couple of weeks -- they got together for wine, microwave popcorn, maybe some Netflix or Prime … and then a wonderful night of very satisfying, usually passionate love making.

Most people who knew the pair of them thought they should be an actual couple: get engaged, get married, get a home, get some kids, etc. But Karen had her sales job, which took her around the country 30 weeks a year and to Canada and sometimes Europe as well. And Michael had his business, which took far more time than it was worth, in her opinion. No, what they had now was perfect for Karen and, she hoped, was all Michael wanted as well.

"So, I know I shouldn't ask this," she said between munching bites of popcorn, "but … where did you get the money for this? I mean … you're broke!"

 

[PennySaver]

Taylor Riggs dropped into her chair, stuffed the remains of a cruller into her mouth, and picked a sheet of paper up from her desk that hadn't been there when she left the night before. Spitting out some crumbs as she spoke, she asked her partner, "What's this?"

"Dunno," Paul Wilson said. "12th precinct emailed that to me last night … I printed it out for you."

"Why?" the 34 year old Homicide Detective asked with a touch of annoyed attitude in her voice. "They sent it to you."

"Why don't you fucking read it first, then ask your stupid questions?" the decade older and yet lower ranked detective asked. He, too, shoved what remained of a donut into his mouth, adding more calories and fat to a 260 pound body that needed far less of it. He jabbed a finger in the air toward the paper as if that was going to help explain the situation better, explaining, "Your boy Skeeter's name is buried in there someplace."

That actually perked Taylor up; she sat taller, flipped on her desk light, donned her reading glasses, and began perusing the page. Harold "Skeeter" Youngblood wasn't actually a Person Of Interest in the murder case on which Taylor was working, but he had been pictured with their POI on numerous occasions, selling the man dope. As far as Taylor knew, Skeeter was nothing more than a low level distributor, maybe even just a corner boy, she didn't know. He had a slight rap sheet, mostly misdemeanors but also one felony for which he'd been charged, tried, convicted, sentenced, and then released on appeal when the original arresting officer was caught selling some of the dope that he'd confiscated from Skeeter than night.

"It doesn't say anything," Taylor complained about the report. When Paul seemed to show no interest, she clarified, "Says they think he had a new connection, a woman, but that they don't know who she is. So … like I said … it says nothing."

"Well, I guess that means you're gonna have to get out there and do some of that amazing detecting for which you were promoted over me," Paul said with the tone of a man disillusioned with his career.

Taylor shot him a dirty look, stood, and struck a pose that showed off her incredible figure. "Just so we're clear, Paulie, I didn't get promoted over you because I'm a better cop than you. I got promoted because my tits are nicer than your man-boobs, and because I suck dick better than you could comprehend."

Paul waved off his partner's crude words, grunting as she in turn laughed before heading away toward the vending machines. He knew the truth behind why he'd reached the peak of his career at Detective 2nd Grade and his partner had reached Detective 1st Grade in half as much time, and it had nothing to do with his delicious partner's body or what she may or may not have done with it.

Taylor was simply one of the best cops Paul had even known. She could go farther if she chose, much farther, he knew. And while there were plenty of high ranking cops who would love to help Taylor to the top by helping her out of her clothes, Paul was all to aware that she wasn't the type to get ahead in that fashion.

No, if Taylor Riggs was going to reach the administrative ranks of the department, it was going to happen because she was like a dog with a bone when it came to busting criminals. They were going to get their latest suspect, and if Taylor could get something out of this Skeeter guy, she would.

 

[BeachBum25]

Michael enjoyed the time he spent with Karen, including the time that they were just sitting around talking and not running off to the bedroom. They had been best friends as long as he could remember, and, if he had any say in the matter, they would remain that way for life.

"Do you think I was happy with the one shithole of a store that I spent just about every dime I made fixing the machines up and barely making ends meet? People walk past that store with their laundry to go to other laundromats.... that is money walking by."

He took a breath. He was not upset with his best friend. He was stressed out about laundering more than a quarter of a million dollars in ten days. He didn't dare tell Karen about what he was doing. She would just start asking questions about how someone would come to him for such a service. Ultimately, Karen would then find out that Michael had been dealing with Skeeter. She HATED Skeeter.

Of course, Karen being Karen, the question about where he got the money came up. "It is a rent to own deal. I didn't need much up front, so, I drained my bank account and did the deal. I think I can get a lot of business in there, which will give me some money to fix up the first place and keep all of those people from going to other laundromats."

He really enjoyed cuddling with Karen, but he hated that he had to lie to her, and he was lying to her to cover up something that he was hiding from her, which was that he was cleaning money for someone who he didn't know.

While they sat there, Michael's thoughts went back to the woman who had visited him and dumped the 300 grand on him. She was the most stunning woman he had ever seen, but something about her.. maybe it was the way that she carried herself.. told him that she would cut off his balls if he tried to rip her off. The thought of doing so never entered his mind.

Karen and Michael drifted off to sleep on the sofa. Had it been her intention to take advantage of their friends-with-benefits relationship tonight? He wasn't sure, but she had just arrived back in town, which very often triggered one of those interactions. However, she did seem very tired from this last trip.

Michael woke up in the middle of the night and laid Karen down on the sofa. He covered her in a blanket and went and sat in a chair across from her. He watched her sleep as his mind raced again with how he was going to launder the money. He was cursing Skeeter for getting him mixed-up in this.

When Karen woke up in the morning, Michael made her breakfast using the last 2 eggs in the refrigerator. They kissed goodbye and she joked about him getting off the hook last night. "I am sure that you will find a way for me to make it up to you."

Once he was sure Karen was gone, he called Skeeter and started screaming at him for getting him messed up in a money laundering scene. Skeeter laughed at him and just told him to make sure he didn't fuck it up.

Michael went to the new laundromat and started emptying the machines of all of the change from the washers and dryers, and filling the bill changing machine. He found out that the new place made a good amount of money, but it wasn't nearly enough to do the job he wanted.

Despite his business struggling, Michael had been able to pay most of his debts on time. All of his accounts were currently up to date, so, Michael returned to his bank and talked about a business loan. He told the loan officer that he was looking to fix up his original store and to improve the new store. He asked the loan officer about taking a mortgage on the building in which the first store was located.

The loan officer said that the building was probably worth $100,00 and he would probably be able to borrow about 80% of that in a mortgage, but if he wanted to take out a small business loan, he could probably get double that by using the building and both stores as collateral.

Encouraged by the money that was being placed into his account from the loan, Michael went to the original store to check on things and to see what upgrades he could do on his own to get more business to come in.

 

[PennySaver]

Hannah King sat up talling in Michael's office chair at the sound of the laundromat's front door shaking furiously. The 5'4", 100 pound pixie could just barely see over the rail beneath the office's window, past the folding table, and beyond the row of small washers to the business's glass doors … and to the man who was probably wondering why the hell his key wasn't working in a door he'd been locking and unlocking for years.

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Give me a second!" she called out as she leapt from the squeaky chair to rush toward the front. "Be right there!"

As she hurried toward the store front, Hannah was careful to weave to the left to avoid the puddle Michael had had to mop up every morning, afternoon, and evening for years; she weaved again, this time to the right, to get past the dryer he'd torn apart days ago and for which he was still awaiting parts. As she neared the front and saw him looking at her with a What the fuck expression, she shook a ring of keys before her. She stuck one of them in the double key lock, turned it until it clicked open, then pulled the door open.

"Sorry, so sorry, Mister Sheehan," she said in a meek, somewhat frantic voice and fast paced voice. "They only finished installing the new locks an hour ago and I had meant to call you and tell you that the locks had been changed but Ms. Frink said I wasn't to call your current cell phone and that I was to wait until I could give you the new throw away phone but I hadn't been able to give you the new throw away phone either because I only got it from her last night but the throw away is on your desk now and has her phone number already programmed in it as is my own phone number which because I don't need to have a clean number since I am totally legit well I mean other than this of course which is different but still I shouldn't really be carrying around two cell phones because that looks suspicious so it is actually just my normal cell phone number and you can call it any time you like, day or night, 24/7 and here are the keys and if you would like I can explain the new books to you unless of course you were wanting to clean up that puddle in the aisle before someone slips and falls like I did this morning--"

She half turned her body to show Michael her back side, revealing the still wet, darker fabric of her pencil skirt that fit oh so nicely about her tight, rounded ass. Without missing a beat she continued, "--when I arrived at five o'clock and I considered tossing it into a dryer to dry it because obviously that's what dryers do, right--"

She turned to Michael again and went on, seeming as if she was still on that original breath, --but then I didn't have anything else to where while my skirt was in the dryer and I didn't want you walking in to find me standing here in my blouse and panties and besides you couldn't have walked in to find me in my panties because you didn't have the new key to the new lock and I would have had to come to the front in my panties -- oh God, how many times have I said panties? -- so, I didn't dry my skirt and my panties -- oops! said it again -- so they're still a little bit wet but that's okay because I'm sort of getting use to it by now."

She hesitated a moment, drew a deep breath, exhaled with a rush of air, stared at Michael a moment, then added "Sorry. I'm afraid your office chair is wet, too. You know … 'cause I sat in it … with a wet skirt … and wet … panties..."

A moment passed before she suddenly smiled wide, shoved her hand out toward Michael, and finally informed him, "Hi, Mister Sheehan. I'm Hannah. Hannah King, your new accountant."

 

[BeachBum25]

"What the hell is going on? Who changed the lock on my front door." When he heard a voice from inside, he looked through the glass to see who it was. He saw a woman heading toward the door and opening it for him.

When she let him in she went on a rant. He could not keep up with what she was talking about. She paused to turn around and show him her wet ass. It was a very impressive ass at that, but soon she was off on another rant.

"The only thing he retained from what the woman said was that she had wet panties, her name was Hannah King, and that she was his new accountant. Michael thought for a minute... new accountant.. hell, she was his first accountant.

"Well, Ms King, I must tell you that I do not recall hiring you as my accountant, nor do I remember giving anyone the authority to change the locks on my business, nor do I remember ordering a new cell phone" as he looked at the phone Hannah had placed in his hand.

"Now, if you would excuse me, I have some things I need to do in order to get my business running this morning. How many customers have I lost since the doors have been locked?" Now that I am here you can go home and change your clothes and get out of your wet panties."

Michael went back into his office to contemplate what was going on. There was no way he could wash all 300 grand. He took out a ridiculous loan, and there was no way he was going to meet the deadline, and then he would be stuck with the debt. He was about to be ruined.

 

[PennySaver]

"Well, Ms King, I must tell you..." Michael began his reaction to all that she said, only a fraction of which he'd understood.

When he made the comment about her going home and changing her wet panties, Hannah's face erupted in a fiery red blush. Coming from this tall, handsome man the comment somehow sounded more ... dirty. No, not that: suggestive, as if they weren't wet on the back but were so in the front ... because of her sexual feelings toward him. She didn't have any sexual feelings toward Michael, of course; hell, there hadn't been enough time for her to develop any yet. But still, Hannah's mind ran about as fast as her mouth did sometimes, and she had noticed even before she opened the door that Mister Sheehan was a babe!

"Okay thank you very much and I'll just get out of your way and come back at another time to explain the books and how we'll be doing them in a way as to maximize..." she began. Hannah could probably have gone on for another thousand words without period, comma, or semi-colon … but Michael had already covered the distance to his office by then. She finished with a meek and noticeably slower paced, "Okay … well … thank you Mister Sheehan."

She half turned, stood in place a moment -- she was feeling quite dejected, not that that was uncommon for Hannah -- then headed out the door. She glanced back from the sidewalk, finding her new client bringing out the mop and bucket. She contemplated going back in to try again but didn't. Instead, she shrugged and turned for her car.

###############​

A couple of hours later, the new throwaway phone Hannah had given Michael chimed an incoming text with a very vague message: Don't forget to ask for a receipt..

A few minutes after that, the loud beep, beep, beep of a truck backing up to the sidewalk bounced off the front windows of the laundry. A couple of big delivery men opened up the back, removed a small crate, and wheeled it into the business. They greeted Michael politely and began unloading two new change machines, not showing any concern for the fact that he hadn't ordered new change machines. They set them up against the walls, and as one man took the crates and hand trucks, the other waved Michael over to explain how they worked.

"Feel this button here," the man said, reaching under the side lip, then gesturing Michael to check the spot out as well. "Just hold that button and..."

He fed one end of a twenty dollar bill into the slot directly below a stick-on label that read $1, $5, $10, $20 -- no $50 or $100 bills, please. The change maker sucked Andrew Jackson inside, and the machinery inside began clicking quickly as if dispensing quarters for the coin-op washers and dryers...

…only, no coins came out. The delivery driver pulled out a $100 bill and -- despite the label indicating it would take it -- slipped it into the slot as well. Once again the change maker went crazy but expelled no coins. As it was still clicking madly, the man told Michael, "It records how much is going in … dollar bills … but it doesn't record how many coins are coming out, nor does it record how often its being refilled, so..."

He left the explanation there, hoping the laundry owner was smart enough to understand that he was explaining that the change maker was actually a clean money maker. He opened the front with a tubular pin key, similar to what most bicycle locks had these days, and showed Michael a button. "At days end, press this button to get a printed receipt … give it to your bookkeeper … you met the bookkeeper, yes...? Okay, give it to her. And I have to warn you … you can't just sit here on a stool 24/7 and feed dollar bills into it. Suspicious, yes?"

The man handed over the key to the two machines, then handed out a clipboard, saying, "Sign here and take the bottom copy please … and, of course, give it to your bookkeeper."

He pointed to the price of the machines -- $40,000 each! -- and said with a smile, "We take cash."

Even before the two had concluded their business, the bell over the door rang. A young woman carrying a basket of laundry and leading a toddler behind her she searched for a working washing machine; the male who in every way from clothing to hair to tats screamed out gangbanger strode to the back of the establishment … and stopped in front of the change machine.

He only briefly acknowledged Michael with a head nod, then looked to the delivery guy, who gave him a nod. He stuck a $20 bill into the machine, which clicked away, dispensing the expected 80 quarters. Then, glancing toward the front of the store as if expecting prying eyes, he pulled out a small roll of rubber banded tens. One after another he fed the curled bills into the machine … while holding the button on the bottom of the machine.

It might not have been obvious to the unsuspecting Michael, but each of the bills the young man fed into the machine had a red dot in the same exact spot on the edge of the bill to the far left of Alexander Hamilton's smirking smile. Over the days, weeks, and months to come, Michael -- if he was paying attention -- just might notice that the majority of the money his new magic button patrons were feeding into the machine always sported a colored dot in a very specific part of the bills.

"Thanks, man," the patron said before scooping up his quarters and walking back to the front of the store. He poured the coins into her awaiting hands, spoke to her with a life partner's familiarity, kissed her cheek then the child's, and headed for the door. He looked back to Michael and called out, "Yo! You'd get a lot more biz if you had a safe play area for the kids, dude."

And having concluded his business -- depositing yesterday's earning from his corner dope operation two blocks over -- he was gone, not to return again until tomorrow. The delivery guy caught Michael's glance, smiled, and shrugged. He pulled out a business card and offered it out.

"Call this number for more quarters," he said, adding, "Don't go to the bank."

And with that, he turned and headed out … his business here, like that of the dope slinger, done.

 

[BeachBum25]

Michael had no idea what was going on. AN accountant, a new cell, two new change machines. He could not figure out why all of this was happening. He knew where it was all originating, but he did not know why this was all happening to him.

When the woman, child and the banger came in, it all started to make sense.... well, at least a little more sense. The machines were going to be used to wash drug money, or some other kind of money that was gained illegally.

He had to take a few minutes to try to figure things out. If more dirty money was coming into his business, how was he going to be able to launder it all. He already had to figure out how to clean the 300k. Now there was more money coming in that would have to be laundered.

The money coming in would certainly look good on his ledger books, but how was he going to be able to get clean money back to those depositing the money in the machines? He guessed that his "new" accountant would have to explain it to him. After all, Michael wasn't the best businessman around, which was obvious from the building he stood in.

Michael finished cleaning the floor of the laundromat and got rid of the bucket and mop. While he was working, several people came in and used the change machine. Several even got change out of them and used the change to do laundry.

He took the receipt for the machines and went into his office. He placed it in the back of a filing cabinet drawer. Michael was going to need to get a safe and have it mounted in his apartment. he had a feeling that he was going to have a lot of receipts that he was going to have to turn over to Ms. King. The only thing would be how to explain the presence of a safe in his place to Karen.

 

[PennySaver]

Day 4 of Michael's 10 day turn around:

Taylor Riggs made her way casually into Benji's, looking about at each of the faces that was looking back at her. They all knew she was a cop, just like she knew they were all either members of or associates with the 44s, one of the city's most violent drug pushing street gangs. Most police officers didn't come into gang controlled establishments like this hole in the wall bar alone because they weren't always certain they'd come back out again with all their teeth. But Taylor had an arrangement with the leader of the 44s that benefited them both.

"LeRoy, my main man," she said with a faux-street accent as she took the stool next to him. He laughed at her and shook his head. She laughed, too, telling him, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I grew up with the wrong cops and robber shows as a kid. Listen, we need to talk."

Taylor had heard from some of her snitches that the flow of money from street hustlers to bankers had had a sudden shift. She grilled LeRoy about where the money was suddenly heading, but he had no idea. "My money's still going where it's been going. I can't tell you what I don't know."

"Then, you need to get to knowing," Taylor pressed him. She slid a hundred dollar bill into his pants pocket, stressing, "We have a thing between us. Don't make me change it."

She sucked down the bottom half of the home brew sitting before him, clinked the empty down, and left. She knew that if there was something to be learned out on the streets, LeRoy would learn it. Question was, would he learn it in a timely manner? Things out on the streets had been changing so quickly that Taylor hadn't been able to keep up with them. And she was hearing more and more stories about a woman they were calling Ditee, short for Aphrodite, apparently because she was supposed to be the most beautiful woman currently working in their dark industry.

####################​

Hannah King was once again sitting in Michael's when he showed up, this time around able to unlock the door without her assistance. She was standing in the open office doorway waiting to greet him by the time he got through the door.

"Please don't be angry at me Mister Sheehan but our associate wanted a current accounting of the books and I don't sleep at night hardly at all probably because I drink too much coffee in the evening and take naps in the afternoon and I just thought that maybe I'd come in early and get started on the books--"

He was nearly to her by now, and she spun to quickly retrieve the ledger on the desk as she continued her ramble, "--and I think I've got them pretty much done up until and including yesterday all except for one little tiny insignificant detail..."

She spun the book so that he could see a figure at which she was pointing. She playfully grimaced as if fearful of pointing out the obvious, then said, "You're way behind target."

She grimaced again, then quietly and meekly said, "Ouch."

 

[BeachBum25]

Michael entered his shop and walked toward the back. Being greeted by his accountant, no matter how cute she was, was not exactly the way he wanted to start his day. Once again, he struggled to keep up with her as she talked.

"Yea, well, that is not exactly a surprise Ms. King. I have no idea how anyone could have expected me to meet that target with this dump. It makes me wonder what kind of business people it is that you work for. What were they thinking picking this place to do their cleaning?"

He sat down at his desk. He started to wonder if he should consider getting out of town and starting anew someplace else. He had no idea what he was getting involved in and he wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

"I still have six days to hit my target. There is a chance. Maybe business will pick up in the next few days... hopefully anyway." He looked at Ms. King to see if she had any ideas for him.

"At least you didn't fall on a wet floor and end up with wet panties this time you came in." He winked at her. "It is probably easier to do your work when the clothes you are wearing are dry. I bet it is easier to concentrate like that."

The front door opened and someone entered. The female headed to the change machine and and after about 5 minutes left after depositing several bills and getting no change, and doing no laundry... of clothes.

"Well, there is another fine customer of my laundromat Ms. King. That puts me a little closer to the target, although, I am sure I am still way behind target."

 

[PennySaver]

Hannah felt a bit sorry for Michael, of course; she'd been working for Alexis even since before she got her Business Administration degree and was licenced to perform taxable income bookkeeping, so she knew how demanding and -- at times like these -- how unreasonable she could be. But, Hannah knew enough about Alexis and her associates to know that you didn't ask for leeway or breaks; you did as she asked within the timeframe you were given or there was going to be trouble.

"I still have six days to hit my target." Michael said with a hopeful tone. "There is a chance."

Hannah couldn't stop the short, sharp snicker that escaped.

Michael looked at her and continued, "Maybe business will pick up in the next few days... hopefully anyway."

When he looked at her, Hannah only said with that soft, meek voice of hers, "Yeah … um … no. No, there isn't."

"At least you didn't fall on a wet floor and end up with wet panties this time you came in."

When Michael winked at her, Hannah once again blushed. She had even more to be embarrassed about this time that he mentioned her panties as she'd gone home that night and fantasized about him with her Rapid Rabbit between her thighs.

"It is probably easier to do your work when the clothes you are wearing are dry. I bet it is easier to concentrate like that."

"Stop...!" she practically squealed at him, as if she was still in high school and a boy she liked was teasing her. She cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure, telling him barely above a whisper, "No talking about my panties unless you correcting me on how to wash them."

Even at her own words Hannah once again blushed fiery hot. Their conversation was interrupted by another one of his no-laundry laundry customers. Michael joked about being another couple of hundred dollars closer to washing the $300,000. Hannah contemplated the situation a moment, slammed her books closed -- she was done for the day anyway -- and stood to boldly tell Michael, "Meet me back here tonight after closing. What is that, 8 o'clock … 9?"

She was surprised to find that the laundry was actually open until 11pm, asking, "Mister Sheehan, when do you sleep?"

Regardless, she told him to be outside at closing and she would show him a way that he could launder a bit more of Alexis's money. "And it doesn't involve a mop or powdered bleach."

####################​

From the open passenger side window, Hannah saw the look on Michael's face when she pulled up before the laundromat in a chauffeured, stretch limousine. She stood up through the moon roof, gave him one of those The Price is Right model waves with both hands, and asked, "Were you expecting Uber maybe?"

Forty minutes later -- during which Hannah had hardly shut up -- after an easy drive up Canadian 401 to London, Ontario, they were stepping onto the carpet of Canada's newest full service casino-hotel. Ten minutes after that, they had exchanged $50,000 of Michael's dirty American money for casino chips and were laying bets at the Roulette table, with the male half of the team betting on black while the female half was betting on red.

"I know, I know, it might not seem to make sense," she whispered to him when they took a break so she could take off her high heels and rest her crying puppies. Her speed of speech had slowed somewhat with the downing of two Raspberry Lemonade Spritzers. "If you're betting black and I'm betting red one of us always loses, and when it hits green … whadda they call'em, Ought and Double Ought...? We both lose. But that's not the point. Here's the point."

She explained their goal for the evening, and when her feet felt ready for another go round, they headed this time to a second wheel table, repeated their silly looking bets, colored up their smallish chips for a handful of big ones, and then headed for the cashier. Exchanging them for Canadian dollars -- despite being offered American money -- they headed back to the front entrance where their driver met them a few minutes later.

"How much did we start with, Mister Sheenan," Hannah asked, giggling and apologizing after she'd realized she'd mispronounced his name. He told her, then she asked, "How much of that funny money did we leave with?"

She already knew how much it was, of course; her entire life was about counting and tracking money, so Hannah had known the exact amounts they had at each major point during their evening: Michael's $50,000 in dirty American money had become $72,008 in casino chips; they'd gambled for almost 4 hours and -- miracle of miracles -- had actually won $2,310 Canadian, which hadn't been necessary to achieve their goal for the evening.

"Tomorrow, you'll take your clean $74,318 Canadian down to your bank … along with the casino's receipt showing the money is legitimate gambling winnings," Hannah continued, her pace of word much more normal now that the alcohol of yet a third drink had gotten into her blood stream, "You'll exchange it for American--"

The professional bookkeeper lifted a hand before her and penciled her math in the air. "51,541 … plus change. Your eight percent is, um … "4,123 … and 28 cents … I think. Yeah … 28."

Hannah let Michael think about the numbers for a moment. She shifted forward, which caused her skirt to pull fully up her hips and reveal her black thong panties. She giggled yet again, struggled to pull her skirt down as she laughed, and finished it off by blurting out, "Panties!"

She finally managed what she was attempting, reaching the already opened bottle of champagne. She pulled the plastic cork out, lifted the bottle to her mouth for two big swigs, then offered it out to Michael. After he'd taken it -- was he going to drink from it or simply get it away from the intoxicated young later -- Hannah sat back into her seat again and studied him for a long moment.

Then, she smiled and asked without shame, "You wanna fuck?"

 

[BeachBum25]

The comments from the accountant were not exactly uplifting. She snickered at him when he tried to be positive about actually making the $300,000. goal. Well, maybe he should really think about getting out of town.

He noticed the accountant blush when he mentioned her wet panties and winked at her. He noticed how she looked down like she was hiding something. When she snapped at him, he knew he had struck a nerve.

She went from appearing to be meek and mild to be forceful and giving orders in an instant. She forcefully commanded him to stop talking about her panties and then instructed her to meet him back here at closing time. The fact that she had no idea of the closing time told him that her involvement with the business was with the accounting and making sure the books said what her boss needed them to say and nothing more.

riding up to the casino in the stretch limo was a luxury Michael was not accustomed to. He was just happy to keep his beat up SUV running to get him around town, and that was not always easy to do. Riding in luxury certainly was a great experience.

He had to admit he did not understand the whole idea of betting red and black at the same time. Once again, Michael wondered about the strategy being employed by Alexis Frink and her team. What were they doing?

Michael's thoughts about the business changed when Hannah started to explain how they had just washed 50 grand and that his take on it was going to be over $4000. Suddenly, he didn't doubt the woman sitting in the limo next to him.

He couldn't help but notice Hannah's skirt ride up and reveal her black thong underneath. He did not try to hide that he saw it. He couldn't hide the bulge that was growing in his pants.

He took the champagne bottle from her and took a long drink of it as his eyes remained on Hannah. After taking a second drink, he heard the words coming from Hannah.

"You wanna fuck?"

He stared at her for a moment. Was she drunk? Was this a test? Did she really want to fuck him? The thoughts raced through his head as he looked over her body. He wouldn't mind it at all, but would this come back and bite him?

Normally he would have already had her thong of and been between her legs, licking her pussy, but the situation he was in caused him to hesitate. Maybe he should slow play it.

Michael moved closer to Hannah and placed his hand on her thigh; his fingers sliding under the hem of her skirt as he leaned down and kissed her lips. he started with a soft kiss and progressively kissed her deeper; anticipating that she was going to snap at him and ask him what he was doing.

 

[PennySaver]

But the meek, mild mannered, sometimes nervously hyper bookkeeper did just the opposite of what the laundromat owner was expecting. She reached her arms around Michael's middle, parted her knees farther -- causing her skirt to pull up again, exposing her black panties -- and pulled him firmly against her crotch. Her mouth almost attacked his in an erotic kiss as her feet curled around his back and pulled him even tighter against her yearning pussy.

#################​

Karen had fallen asleep on Michael's couch while waiting for him to finish yet another long day at his laundry. One of his laundries, she reminded herself, recalling the adventurous but seemingly risky move he'd made days earlier. She still didn't understand how he expected this plan to work, but -- as always -- she was one hundred percent behind him and ready to help.

In fact, that was why she'd come over to his house this night. When he hadn't answered the door -- not unusual -- Karen had used her own key to get inside -- again, not unusual. She'd called him, then texted him, a total of six times but got no answer; she couldn't know that he was inside a casino that used cell jammers to prevent their gamblers from being distracted from losing their money.

Now, though, as she awoke to the sound of an obnoxious salesmen peddling his wares on an informercial, Karen realized that it was nearly 4 o'clock in the morning and Michael still was not at home. Her first thought was that he'd been in some sort of accident; she didn't even consider that he was with another woman because -- although they were just FWBs -- he hadn't been with another woman in God knows how long. Michael simply hadn't had the time for dating.

#################​

Hannah reached her hands to the front of Michael's waist and was just beginning to loose his clothes when his phone -- not the throwaway -- began to belt out George Michael's I Want Your Sex, which Karen covertly and repeatedly put onto Michael's phone as her personalized ring tone every time he mistakenly set his phone within her reach.

"I agree!" Hannah called out playfully as she listened to the words and continued to unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip the laundry owner's clothing. She challenged, "Go ahead and answer it. I mean, I'm sure it's more important that putting your pock inside my cussy."

Hannah laughed as she realized the mistake she'd made with her wording. Almost simultaneously, she shoved her hand down inside Michael's underwear and grasped his already fully hardened cock. Pulling her face back to look into his eyes as she began stroking him, Hannah smiled broadly and said, "No, please … answer it."

She used her better position to knock Michael to one side; he flopped into the driver's side seat, and in a flash, Hannah was in between his parted knees and pulling his erection out through the open fly of his boxers. She dropped her head to his groin, gave his cock a long, slow lick up its sensitive bottom side, then told him, "Answer it … and I'll cuck your sock."

Again, the obviously inebriated bookkeeper laughed loudly. She licked his shaft again, then challenged, "Answer it … or I'll stop."

 

[BeachBum25]

What the fuck Karen, he thought to himself. Did you know that I was about to fuck this woman and you just had to go about ruining it? Hannah insisted that he answer the phone. There was something that told Michael that Hannah had a little kink in her.

"Hello?" As he answered, Michael placed a hand behind Hannah's head and pulled her to his hard cock. His fingers moved higher up Hannah's inner thigh as he listened to Karen, on the other end of the phone ask him where he was.

"I had to meet a couple of people about growing my business and we are going to be finishing up soon." Michael looked down into Karen's eyes whose were fixed on his as she licked the swollen head of his shaft and then covered his helmet with her lips.

"Why are you asking where I am? I told you what I was doing." He began to move his hips as Hannah began to bob her head on his big hard cock. She certainly was good with her mouth. She sucked a cock almost as good as she talked without breathing. "Ohhh"

"I am meeting with them at a private club. No, no, I was just reacting to one of the guys making a great shot on the pool table. You can't hear anyone playing pool? Well that is because the table is on the other side of the room." He smiled down at Hannah who seemed to enjoy the predicament that she had put him in.

Wrapping her hair in his fist, Michael started moving his hips faster. "Yea, that's it." What a wonderful cocksucker his accountant was. He was certainly going to have to repay her. "What do you mean, what am I saying. I told you there are guys playing pool. What do you mean I said yea, that's it? It was probably just a response to a shot."

Michael held Hannah's head to him as he filled her throat with cock. He held her in place.. not letting her breath. "Why are you at my place anyway? We weren't supposed to get together tonight, were we? I needed to meet with these people to help make sure things grow. And I have this one person in particular who is doing a great job of it." He released Hannah's head.. allowing her to pull back and breathe.

He returned to fucking Hannah's mouth as he continued talking to Karen. "I don't know how much longer I am going to be. Don't you want my business to be a success?" When she replied that of course she did, Michael said, "Well then why are you so anxious to pull me away from this. It is so uplifting the interaction I am having I think it is going to help me and my business explode."

 

[PennySaver]

As she bobbed her head and licked and fondled and deep throated and continued to switch between them all, Hannah listened in on this end of the conversation and sometimes giggled or whispered erotic and suggestive responses to Michael's words. She had always been good at this, even better when she was intoxicated; being drunk somehow relaxed Hannah's gag reflex, and she was easily taking Michael's full 7+ inches all the way back into her throat with ease.

His breathing was beginning to affect his ability to pull off the ruse, though, as he got to what Hannah interpreted as a double entendre, "It is so uplifting the interaction I am having. I think it is going to help me and my business explode."

Hannah peeked up high at Michael as he went quiet, unable to get any more words out with the impending orgasm just seconds away. As she pulled her mouth back and parted her lips at the end of his bulbous, purple head, she grasped his shaft and worked it hard and furiously in a clenched hand. Seconds later, a thick wad of cum shot from him to land in the back of Hannah's mouth. She continued to work his length, catching volley after volley of his seed in her throat, then on her tongue, bottom lip, and finally on her finger tips. She let Michael view the puddle of white discharge on her tongue for a moment, then closed her mouth and swallowed before smiling to him.

Before setting about licking his cock and her hand clean, Hannah whispered about the woman's loud voice escaping the phone, "I think she wants you attention."

 

[BeachBum25]

Michael looked down as Hannah worked his thick, hard shaft until he unloaded thick ropes of cum into her talented mouth. She milked his cum so well, and was happy to show him the puddle of his cum in her mouth before she swallowed it.

Hannah telling him that Karen wanted his attention snapped his focus back to Karen on the phone, well somewhat. Yes he heard Karen screaming, "What are you doing? Why aren't you talking to me? Who else is with you? Michael are you okay? What is going on?" His real focus was on Karen as she licked his cum from her fingers and then began to clean his cock.

"Karen, stop. I told you I am working to try to grow my business. You always give me shit about my store, and now that I am doing something, you are being a pain in the ass." Michael smiled down at Hannah as she almost lovingly cleaned his cock.

Karen continued to go on her rant. "What do you have to do to get help with your business, fuck somebody? Is that why you were talking about it being uplifting and exploding. Do they have some slut there to take care of you so that you will do business with them?" Michael looked at Hannah, who he knew could hear Karen.

"No Karen, they do not have a slut here. What I do have here with me in this meeting is an accountant. Yes Karen, an accountant. That is something that I have never had before and the people that want to help me grow my business think it is a good idea for me to have someone take care of my books. And you know what Karen, she is very good. So, if you don't mind I am going to get back to working with her, because it isn't fair that she is here and I am ignoring her."

Michael hung up his phone, rolled down the window of the limo and tossed it out. "I have another phone now. I don't need that one." After rolling the window back up, Michael moved between Hannah's legs and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties.

Smiling up at his accountant, Michael slowly peeled her thong from her body while allowing the tips of his fingers to glide along the skin of her firm legs. Dropping the thong to the floor, Michael slowly began to kiss and lick up Hannah's legs as his hands pushed her skirt higher.

Gliding his tongue along her inner thighs, Michael parted Hannah's legs even more so that when his tongue made its way to her silkiness, it had free access. He dragged his tongue flat across her lips... slowly.

Parting her lips with the tip of his tongue Michael's tongue glided through her folds and finished with a flick of her button. He repeated this several times before sucking her clit into his mouth and circling it with his tongue.

As he sucked and flicked and nibbled on her clit, Michael inserted a finger into her pussy. Slowly he pushed it deeper as he felt Hannah lift her hips up off the limo seat. Moving his finger in tiny circles deep inside her tight pussy, Michael's mouth continued its assault on Hannah's clit. He wanted to make sure she came as hard as he did.

 

[PennySaver]

Often smiling widely, Hannah continued licking and lapping at Michael's cock as he attempted to fend off Karen's justifiably suspicious accusations. When he ended the call and tossed the phone out the limo's window, she couldn't help but laugh. Intoxicated as she was, the meek little thing that hardly ever got the good looking guys was tickled to see that Michael was choosing her over whoever this other woman was. Of course, tomorrow -- when her head was once again clear and realized that she might very well have just broken up a valued relationship -- Hannah was going to find herself feeling guilty as shit.

The laundry owner quickly began to return the favor with his mouth upon the bookkeeper's pussy. And while Hannah was very much enjoying what Michael was doing to her, she knew her body -- particularly her inebriated body -- and its inability to reach orgasm via oral sex.

"Stop, stop!" she urged him as she struggled to get Michael out from between her thighs. She told him bluntly, "I wanna fuck."

Hannah maneuvered Michael back onto the seat and out of his shoes, slacks, and boxers. She ripped her top off and unsnapped her front latch, strapless bra; it flung outward from her rip cage, falling somewhere behind her. Now with only her skirt around her waist, Hannah crawled up into Michael's lap, grasped his saliva wetted cock, and put it at her eager hole.

"It's been a while," she warned him, "So … this might … take a moment..."

Hannah's pussy was as tight as a Prom Night virgin's, causing her to grimace and groan in pain as she worked first the head of Michael's cock through her gate, then a bit of his shaft, and finally -- inch by painful inch -- the rest of him until she was sitting fully in his lap, their respective crotches hard against one another.

Once he was balls deep inside her, Hannah unbuttoned his dress shirt, pulled it open, and moved closer to press her bared breasts against him. She purred to him cat-like, then set about kissing him with wild abandon as she simply got use to having his cock inside of her.

Finally, pulling back and clenching her hands around Michael's upper arms, Hannah began bouncing in his lap, first with short, slow motions, then much faster and longer ones until finally she was essentially bouncing atop him. She didn't slow down or change her pace or angle or anything once she got started; Hannah knew exactly what she needed to orgasm and she was going for it.

Less about two minutes, as she settled into a rhythm, she was drawing in one sharp breath and huffing it out in the next two, drawing in one sharp breath and huffing it out. Her eyes had gone closed, but as she got closer to orgasm, she opened them again and stared solidly into Michael's eyes.

"I'm gonna cum," she told him after another couple of minutes. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, oh dear God, I'm gonna CUM!"

She continued her mantra, repeating it more than two dozen more times with the same rapid no-punctuation-required rant that she had the day she and Michael met … and then suddenly … she went silent … got an almost panicked look on her face … drew one last final deep breath that swelled her barely-B-Cups before her lover's eyes … went entirlely still in Michael's lap as her modestly length fingernails sunk into the flesh of his arms … and then … a moment later … released a loud, long moan of deep euphoria as her entire body erupted in a deep seated tremble that the man below her couldn't have missed even if he had been sitting up front with the driver. When her lungs were empty, Hannah sucked in another massive breath … held it as long as she could, the waves of pleasure still surging through her … then let it out in a rush similar to the first one.

After five or six or maybe seven of these deep inhalations and exhalations, Hannah slowly fell forward until her body collapsed against Michaels as if she was a spineless rag doll. She just lay there against him for God knows how long, still trembling, her chilled skin covered in goose bumps, gasping quick little breaths as her heart pounded against Michael's chest.

She didn't know if her lover had cum again, but that didn't really matter … because she wasn't even close to being done. When she'd regained her senses a bit, Hannah put her hands to Michael's cheeks, holding his face as she kissed him frantically. Then, without concern for whether he wanted to or not, she returned to her original fucking position and told him simply, "Again."

 

[BeachBum25]

Michael was shocked at the way Hannah took control of the situation. She was not the meek and mild accountant that he had encountered in his laundromat. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she was making sure she got it.

When Hannah climbed on top of him, he grabbed her hips and dug his fingers in as she slowly lowered herself onto his, once again, hard cock. As she dipped further down on his shaft, he moved his hands to her breasts and caressed them firmly; rolling her nipples between his fingers.

Once she had him buried in her pussy, he found out that she fucked the way she talked; at a hundred miles an hour. She bounced on his cock fast; taking his cock deep into her with every downward thrust of her body.

When she leaned down and pressed her breasts to his chest, he moved his hands to her ass and caressed it; periodically smacking her firm cheeks. She moved well on his cock; knowing exactly what she wanted... she wanted to cum and nothing was going to get in her way.

As she moved closer to her orgasm, she began to announce that she was going to cum in the same way that she talked to him at the laundromat. There was no grammar or punctuation in what she said. It was simply i'mgonnacum I'mgonnacum I'mgonnacum, repeated again and again.

When she did, Michael was wondering if she was going to pass out. Hannah didn't breathe, but she did continue to ride his hard cock until she finally let out a deep breath. Then she fell forward, once again pressing her body to him.

She laid on top of him for a moment, and, the, before he realized what was going on, she was up and riding him again. She dug her nails into his chest and looked deep into Michael's eyes and said, "I am not finished with you, yet.. not even close, stud."

Michael moved his body to meet Hannah's every movement. He pumped his hips up to her to push his hard cock deeper into her tight pussy. They began moving in unison, fucking with precision: Michael's cock moving in and out of Hannah's tight pussy like a steel piston.

It wasn't long before Hannah was repeating her mantra again and before she had her second wild orgasm. Michael continued to move his hips; fucking her through her orgasm and then she collapsed on him again; breathing heavily and biting his nipple. Michael smacked her ass when she pulled on his nipple with her teeth and laughed at her as they made eye contact.

Suddenly, Hannah sprung up again. "Can you handle anymore, stud?" She started moving again and it was almost a replay of the first two times. Hannah bounced on Michael's cock wildly and came for a third time... then she repeated everything again and was able to achieve a fourth orgasm. The fourth orgasm was simultaneous to Michael pumping his thick cum into her pussy. He flooded her tightness with his thick cum... filling her so good.

When she collapsed on his chest, Hannah looked out the window of the limo and realized that they were pulling up in front of the laundromat where their adventure had started. "It looks like this is your stop," she said to him.

 

[PennySaver]

Hannah lifted off Michael, giggling at the suctioning pop sound of his big cock leaving her tiny pussy. She snagged her clothing and crossed to the limo's middle seat, where she began pulling tissues from a decorated box to dab her womanhood dry. She watched Michael intently as he dressed, she dressing as well. When he was ready to leave the car, she only said, "Don't forget to take your money to the bank today so that I can enter it in the ledger."

And with that, she was done with him. They exchanged some brief goodbyes, but it was obvious that Hannah wasn't the sappy intimate goodbye kind of girl. She told him she'd be by Friday to finish the books for his payment to Alexis that night.

##################​

Karen, meanwhile, had tried to call and text Michael back six times before finally giving up. She'd known he was with another woman. That in and of itself would have been disappointing, as she thought they even though they were just Friends With Benefits, she'd always thought they were doing that under the umbrella of monogamy. To be honest, though, it wasn't the idea that he was with another woman that was pissing Karen off; it was that he felt the need to lie about it. Michael could fuck who he wanted; it was his choice. But dishonesty? That chaffed Karen's pussy like nothing ever could.

She left his apartment, turned back to the door, considered the situation for a moment, then removed his key from her chain and slid it under the door back into his apartment.

##################​

Both of Michael's laundromats had begun to seriously hop by Friday afternoon. The original location had jumped from maybe 12 patrons during an entire 16 hour day to more than ten times that many. And that number was actual patrons, not just the twice a day cash deliveries from the area street dealers. Anyone and everyone with a connection to the gangbangers using the secret buttons was coming to Michael's joint as a sign of solidarity. At this rate, the business could have actually made it on its own without all of the criminal activity. But, of course, Michael was way beyond that now.

The changes machines were getting a great deal of no-dispensing business from the dope slingers, but that wasn't helping Michael launder Alexis's $300,000. The trip to the casino, the second laundry -- which had increased business by triple, too -- and what amount of cash Michael put into the change makers for his own needs had gotten him farther ahead than he probably thought. But it wasn't nearly enough.

Without mentioning their little encounter in the back of the limo, Hannah kicked Michael out of the office when she arrived to give her the needed space and ambiance for crunching the numbers. When she was done two hours later, Hannah waved Michael back to the office, opened the books, and pointed at the figures.

In a return to the rapid fire speaking she'd used the first time they met, Hannah ran down the numbers for Michael: "The 4 change machines at 2 locations brought in $50,102 but of course that isn't part of the $300,000 so that doesn't really help you reach the goal Alexis set for you except that your 3% cut of it which is lower than the 8% for the $300,000 amounts to $1,503.06 which you can add to your cut of the $51,541.77 from the casino which was $4,123.28..."

She continued to rant onward: she spoke of how much real money the two laundries had earned, a dramatic increase because of all the gangbanger old ladies that were now obligated to use Michael's establishments; then she spoke of the ghost money that the books would show the laundries made but which was, of course, some of the $300,000 Michael would deposit as if it had come from the businesses; and finally she spoke of some of the other expenditures, such as the $160,000 he's spent on $$24,000 worth of change machines and the $6,910 Hannah had billed him for the limo and other frills the night they'd gone to Canada.

"So I have good news and I have bad news," Hannah continued, "with the good news being that you burned through $287,022.48 cents which is very close to the $300,000 goal set by Alexis but at the same time you actually only laundered and what I mean by laundered is the amount of cash you will be able to hand back to Alexis tonight when we see her and that amount as I was about to say is only $144,902 even which of course is not even half of your goal for the ten day period that ends when we meet Alexis tonight at 10 o'clock but if we add to that the $1,503.06 from your cut of the change makers and the $4,123.28 from the casino then the amount you will be able to hand over tonight will actually be $150,528.34 which is over half of your goal which..."

Hannah went silent for a moment, shrugged, then finished, "Well … it is what it is."

 

[BeachBum25]

After climbing out of the limo, Michael headed for his beat-up SUV. Part of him felt used, but he actually didn't mind that, at all. He climbed into the SUV and headed home. It was on the drive home that his thoughts went to Karen.

Michael knew that there was no way he could hide from Karen what he had been doing when she called. She wasn't a stupid woman... far from it. He took out his phone to call her, and realized all he had left was his burner from Hannah. He had no idea what Karen's number was. He would just have to wait until he got back to the apartment and talk to her face-to-face.

When he opened the door, he saw the key on the floor. Yep, she was really pissed off at him. They had disagreements and arguments before, but never had she been so mad as to leave the key to his apartment behind. He would have to go see her and fix it.. or try to anyway.

First, however, Michael needed some sleep. He wouldn't get much, because he had to get out and open the laundromat doors so that he could work toward his goal that wasn't really his goal, but Alexis Frink's goal.

When he got up, he jumped into the shower and headed right to the laundromat. He was amazed at how business was picking up in them. Of course, he knew it was all about the other business that was bringing in actual customers.

As excited as Michael was about the increase in business, and how much money was coming into the business, he was not at all confident about making Alexis Frink's target. She couldn't really think that he was going to be able to wash that much money from his hole-in-the-wall laundromat... could she. What Michael didn't know however, was just how short he would be of the established target.

Michael skipped out of work for a little while to go and talk to Karen. He waited until he knew she would be home from work before going to her place. When he pulled up in front of her building, he saw her car, so, he knew she was there.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. "Karen, I know you are in there. I saw your car outside. Come on... answer the door." He knocked and waited for a minute. "Karen, come on. We need to talk. I can explain." Still, there was no response. He banged on the door. "Karen, open the damned door. You can't hide from me. We have been friends for too long. Just open the door." When she still didn't answer the door, he decided it was futile and left. He would give her a few days to calm down and then try again.

###################################################

The sight of the accountant coming through the door was not exactly a welcome sight. Yes, she they had spent a hot time in the limo fucking, but, she was not here for sex now. She was here to go over the books for his meeting with Alexis Frink.

When she kicked him out of the office, he sat on an empty washing and watched the customers come and go... both the legitimate and illegitimate ones. He was amazed at how many people were using his machines to do their laundry.

Once summoned back to his office by his accountant, Michael could tell his was in big trouble. he watched as she pointed at the figures and then went on another one of her wild tirades. Although he didn't take it all in, he knew that it was real bad.

When she finished, Michael understood one thing... 50%, and for that he would receive 0. Wasn't that great. He had sweated out the last 10 days and all he got for it was the stress of wondering what would happen when Alexis Frink found out he didn't even come close.

He still didn't know who Alexis Frink was or what she did, but if she was involved in any way with Skeeter, Michael knew it wasn't good. If she was rolling into his joint and dumping 300 large on his desk, Michael knew she had others laundering money, too. She was Big Time.

After the accountant left, Michael sat at the desk and wondered what to do. There was no reason to run. If she was as big time as he thought, she would find him. The only question was, were they going to break his legs, or worse? Maybe, he thought optimistically, she would give him another 10 days to wash the remainder of the money.

He was still hopeful for a way out of the situation, when he went back to his laundromat around 9 pm. He knew he was there early, but, he wanted to see anything that was coming at him. He didn't want to be ambushed when he arrived.

When Alexis Frink walked through the door, he stood up. He stared at her and awaited his fate.

 

[PennySaver]

At precisely 10pm, a pair of jet black, 2020 Range Rovers pulled casually up to the curb before the laundromat. They just sat there idling for almost 3 minutes; their occupants were hidden behind darkened windows. Eventually, the passenger side doors of both vehicles opened and four men stepped out, closed the doors behind them, adjusted their dark gray suits, and began making their way toward the business's front door; they each looked like MMA cage fighters about to hit someone over the back with a metal folding chair.

All four of the men entered the laundry; two remained just inside to watch the street, and the other two split up and casually headed down the aisles between the machines toward the office at the back. The man who reached Michael first gestured for him to raise his arms, then set about frisking him for … for whatever. The other man entered the office, pulled out an electronic device, and began sweeping, apparently for listening devices or cameras. And during all of it, not a single word was spoken by any of the men.

Eventually, the two men at the back headed forward again, and the two men at the front stepped just outside the door, flanking it. Out on the sidewalk, two more suited men who had earlier emerged and taken up station on the curb now flanked and opened the passenger side door of the rearmost SUV. Alexis Frink stepped out with the aid of an offered hand, and in between these two men made her way into the laundromat. As she continued toward the back of the business, all six of her goons remained up front, with four of the six inside.

"It seems we have a problem, Mister Sheehan," were the first words she spoke as she neared Michael. "The bookkeeper tells me you barely reached the halfway point of our agreement."

As she passed by Michael, she reached a hand out and caressed it across his chest and arm while her eyes checked out his mouth with a hungry stare. It was hard to tell, though, whether she was contemplating kissing those lips or cutting them off with a dull knife and hanging them on the wall with a metal clothes hanger.

Inside the office, Alexis leaned back against the edge of the deck to look at the trailing Michael. Her pose -- with her hands on the desk top behind her -- emphasized the deep cleavage of her boosted, B-cup breasts and, with those 4 inch heels, the dramatic length and beauty of her legs.

She said with a surprisingly polite tone, "So, Mister Sheehan … Michael … what are we going to do about this?"

 

[BeachBum25]

Michael watched in amazement as the men got out of the Range Rovers and entered hi laundromat, sweeping it for bugs and then patting him down. He almost laughed out loud at this scene. It was like something out of a bad movie.

Alexis Frink had entered his dump of a laundromat 10 days ago by herself with 300k and dumped it on him. Tonight she brought the cavalry. Was that meant to intimidate him? Actually, what it did was relax him, because he thought it was comical.

If they were going to break his legs, or do him any other sort of harm, or worse, they would not have shown up the way they did. Alexis, obviously, already knew he was way short. Hannah most definitely had shared that information with her. If they wanted to punish him in any way, they would have done it much more discreetly.

He watched Alexis come in and walk by him shared what Michael already knew. She saw her staring at his lips as she walked past him and dragged her hand over his chest and arm. Michael had no idea what she was up to, but he was pretty certain that he was going to find out.

Watching Alexis sit on the desk and lean back, he had a feeling that he knew one of the ways that she was able to gain the position she had. She used her sexuality to distract men. She probably led them on enough that they would think they had a chance to be with her, and what man would not want to be with such an incredible woman?

"Well, Ms. Frink, considering that the laundromat that you walked into 10 days ago was nothing more than a dump that was probably less that two months from going out of business, I think that the past 10 days were a test."

Pausing a second, to see Alexis' reaction, of which there was none, Michael then continued. "I think you are a much better business person than to think that such a dump could accomplish such a lofty goal. I think you wanted to see how hard I would work to accomplish that goal."

Michael could not believe the way he was handling this situation. He didn't choose this course until she sat down on his desk, but he felt that it was better to be confident in front of her than to show fear. He was sure he would find out shortly just how smart of a move that was.

 

[PennySaver]

Michael seemed to be far more relaxed about his current situation than Alexis had expected. If he only knew why she'd arrived with a small army...

He'd learn soon enough.

Michael spoke about how much better the laundry looked than it had 10 days earlier. She smiled a bit wider, commenting, "I'm sure your patrons are much happier with you, Mister Sheehan ... but ... while new or repaired machines might get your customers' clothes cleaned, it doesn't do much for my money, does it?"

She pushed away from the desk to stand closer to Michael, close enough that he could surely smell the $4,200 per ounce Chanel Grand Extrait wafting his way from her neck, wrists, and … well … yeah, down there, too.

"But you are entirely correct … Michael," Alexis continued with a soft voice and a polite smile. "I was simply testing you. And you did pass … in ways your friend Skeeter didn't. Come with me, please."

Alexis slipped an arm into the crook of Michael's elbow, turned him, and began a slow walk toward the front of the business; she spoke to him as if she was giving a What I did over summer break show and tell at grade school. "Three weeks ago, I took a little vacation to a nice little town up north that sits on James Bay. That's the southern reach of Hudson Bay, in case you weren't aware. Beautiful place, you have to visit it some day soon. Maybe I'll send you and your friend -- what's her name, Karen? -- maybe I'll send you up there for a weekend, if you have the time to get away from your work here, I mean. You could use my jet. It'd be so much faster, giving you more time to..."

She chuckled softly. "Sorry, I digress … where was I...? Oh, yes, Skeeter. So, here I am in Eastmain, Quebec … well, actually, I was in Kachimumiskwanuch … but, oh hell, that's quite a mouthful and most people can't pronounce it even if you write it out phonetically, so … let's stick with Eastmain, which is where my plane was sitting at the time."

She looked up to Michael with that devilish smirk of hers, asking, "I'm digressing again, aren't I? Well, if you'd seen this place..."

They were nearly to the front of the otherwise empty laundry. "So, here I am up north, enjoying the scenery and the maple syrup … it is Canada, after all … and I'm meeting with some of my associates from Europe, as well as with a gentleman who works for an American law enforcement agency which, for now, will remain nameless ... when -- to my great surprise and, of course, disappointment -- whose name should be mentioned during a conversation on possible threats to my operations other than our very own Harold Youngblood."

Probably the only person left on this planet who even knew Skeeter's real name -- other than Michael and possibly his FWB, Karen -- was Harold's 94 year old grandmother, with whom he lived. One of the goons at the door opened it, and Alexis -- still side by side with Michael -- led him slowly outside, continuing toward onward to the front parked Suburban.

"So, in conversation with my friend from--" She stopped and looked up to Michael with a feigned look of surprise, continuing, "Oops! Almost said Homeland Security, didn't I? Oops! See, now I've done it. Anyway, speaking to my friend, I was shocked to learn that our friend Skeeter had been caught coming south over the border in a van filled with … well, let's just call it my property. Now, Skeeter's correct response to being caught with my property would and should have been to claim that it was his property. If he had done so, he would have been charged with a whole raft full of violations … and then my wonderful attorney -- oh, by the way, she's available to you should anything ever untoward happen to you … but then, I am yet again digressing -- she would have punched numerous holes in the prosecution's case, would have pled the charges down to result in perhaps a half dozen years for Skeeter in a minimum security prison … and when he got out, in appreciation for Skeeter keeping me out of this fine mess, he would have found himself in possession of a key that opened a safe deposit box filled with cash … likely cash that you had laundered for me. How convenient, yes?"

By now the two of them were standing at the idling Suburban. The black tinted rear door window lowered … and sitting in the driver side seat was Skeeter … his mouth -- in which was a balled up handkerchief -- was hidden behind duct tape and his hands were bound before him in heavy zip ties. Even before the window was fully down, the obviously scared man was screaming for Michael's help, though the gag and tape reduced the sound to little more than a high pitched whispery gasp.

"But rather than do what was right," Alexis continued, "our friend Skeeter made a deal with a Federal Prosecutor … a deal that was intended to net me and end my business … by first setting you up to be caught laundering money."

 

[BeachBum25]

Alexis' behavior seemed quite odd to him. He wasn't sure exactly what to make of the way she was acting as she walked with her arm in his as they approached the front of the laundromat.

Once outside she led him to the first vehicle in what looked like a presidential motorcade. He listened as Alexis told him about the way that Skeeter had betrayed her. He had a feeling that Skeeter was in a bit of trouble.

When they reached the first vehicle, Michael was shocked to see Skeeter in the back seat. He did not show any signs of shock or fear outwardly, but he certainly felt it deep down inside. Skeeter was in a lot more than a bit of trouble.

Skeeter screamed for Michael to help him, but Michael had no idea what Skeeter expected him to do. There was no way that he was going to be able to help Skeeter out of this. Michael was also certain there was a very clear message being sent by bringing him out to see Skeeter.

No matter what happened to Skeeter, Michael was sworn to silence.. maybe not in words that he shared, but by the fact that Alexis was sharing with him what happened to someone who betrayed her.

Standing there by the SUV, Michael simply shook his head at Skeeter. Skeeter's eyes practically bugged out of his head as he pleaded for help, but there was nothing short of a SWAT Team raid that was going to save Skeeter from his demise.

When Alexis shared that Skeeter's intentions were for Michael to be part of Alexis' downfall, he looked at Skeeter with contempt. "You want my help when you were setting me up for a fall. Fuck you Skeeter. You looked out for yourself and tried to throw me under the bus. Why the fuck would I ever help you you piece of shit.?"