"This is sure nice of you."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am. It's actually part of my job."

Jimmy struggled to scoot the washer into position. The laundry room was tiny and there wasn't much maneuvering room. His biceps strained against the thin cotton shirt with "Ace Appliances" embroidered across the pocket.

Abby leaned against the doorjamb, her silky black slip-dress clinging to her hot skin. "I can hardly believe this heat wave we're having. Seems like it should be summer and here it is, only the second week in May."

Jimmy grunted in agreement.

"You're new here, aren't you? I don't recall ever seeing you in town." She laughed, a full throaty trickle down his spine. "Of course Junction is so small it's easy to keep track of everyone's comings and goings."

"Yes, ma'am, I moved here just about three weeks ago. Got this job just yesterday." The washer was in place now. He plugged in the cord then inched his body around it to hook up the cold and hot water hoses.

"Mason who runs the appliance store's got a good heart. He'll do right by you, mark my words."

"Yes, ma'am, I agree."

Abby laughed again. "Oh please, Jimmy, don't call me ma'am. I'm only 32, not *that* much older'n you."

"Sorry, Miz Tucker."

"That's so formal sounding. Just call me Abby, everyone else does."

"Okay, Abby." Just a few more turns and it would be ready. "Where's the mister?"

It took Abby a couple of seconds to reply; she was too busy admiring the tight fit of Jimmy's faded jeans and the tight ass they hugged. "Oh, Harold drives a truck, long haulin'. He won't be back for another week or so."

She shifted from one foot to the other and moved her eyes up to the sharp lines of his back. "I declare, I just can't imagine how my old washer died on me so quickly. I hadn't even had it hardly more'n a year before the thing just up and kicked the bucket."

"Well, let me get this kink out of the hose and that'll about do it," Jimmy said, wiping his hands on his worn jeans. "Want me to turn it on so's you can see that it works right?"

His back was to her, and he missed seeing the gleam of anticipation in Abby's eyes. "Sure nuff, Jimmy. Just toss that pile of clothes there in the floor in it and crank her up. I can add the detergent later."

Jimmy tossed in the clothes and set the machine. It started filling up with water.

"There you go, Miz... I mean, Abby. We deliver what we promise."

"Oh I'm counting on it," she said, her voice a husky whisper, echoing in the small room.

Puzzled, Jimmy turned around and stood staring at the woman in front of him. Abby's dishwater blonde hair was pinned up in a loose pile on the top of her head and her face was flushed adding a pretty glow to her skin. The straps on her dress had fallen down on her shoulders and the generous display of cleavage begged to have a face buried in it.

Her beauty non-withstanding, it was what she was doing that got his attention. "What...what are you doing?" Jimmy's throat was suddenly dry and he'd lost the power to blink.

Her hand rubbed against her bare leg and then started inching the hem of her dress up, little by little. "Why, Jimmy, haven't you ever seen a woman suffering from...heat, before?" She grinned slowly, the smile traveling up and into her eyes. "I've got something that only you can help me with, Jimmy."

Jimmy couldn't have moved even if he'd wanted to. In all his 19 years no one had ever come on to him like this. It was heady and powerful, and if the bulge in his jeans was any indication, highly erotic.

Jimmy could see the edge of Abby's panties now and the white lace stood out in stark relief against the black of her dress. She slipped two fingers inside them. Jimmy might not have been all that experienced, but he had a pretty good idea of what they were doing.

"Mmmmm, Jimmy, I want you." Abby removed her hand and walked slowly up to Jimmy. Standing toe to toe with him she looked up into his eyes. With a playful grin, she raised her fingers to her mouth and licked them. Jimmy's moan was louder than hers had been.

"What about Harold?" He had a feeling he ought not to even try to fight this; it'd be over before it even started.

"Harold won't be home for a week and I need it now, Jimmy. Now."

Jimmy fumbled for his zipper but she stilled his hand. "On the washer."

"The washer?" He wrinkled his brow.

"The washer," she repeated. "It has to be on the washer."

Abby backed up to the now vibrating washer and shimmied out of her panties, tossing them into a corner. She hopped up onto the washer and spread her legs. "Fuck me."

Jimmy didn't need to be told twice. In a flash his jeans and briefs were around his ankles and he was kneeling on the washer, sliding into Abby's wetness. Now the sly looks from the guys at the appliance shop made sense; they'd known what would happen.

The motion of the washer moved in perfect counterpoint to Jimmy's quick thrusting. It didn't take much before Abby was screaming out her pleasure, her voice louder than the sound of the washer beneath her. Jimmy stiffened as he came inside her and slowed his pumping until he was spent.

His skin was coated with sweat now, his wavy brown hair plastered to the nape of his neck. He didn't know if it was from the heat, his recent exertions or a combination of both. He slid down off the washer and pulled up his pants. "Lord, ma'am, I can't believe how hot it is in here." He wiped his face with the back of his hand and held out a hand to help her down.

"Sorry about that," she said, "but the air broke today. I think all it needs is freon." Her eyes glinted with barely suppressed humor and something else. "I put a call in anyway. The air conditioner repair man will be here in the morning."

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