The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Swept Under the Rug

room and almost tripped over my own feet.
    Why did this keep happening to me?
    The room was occupied, all right. The man had his mesh gym shorts tangled around his ankles and all of the bits normally covered were blocked by a big-haired brunette on her knees in front of him. They were making a surprising amount of noise—a soundtrack I would take with me to the grave—and hadn’t noticed my arrival.
    I would have backed away quietly, but froze when I finally caught a glimpse of the man’s features. (Hey, next time you see a bottom-less man see if his face is the first place you look.)
    Even though I didn’t make a move, the lunatic in my head was running in circles, flapping her arms like a crazed Henny Penny and chanting “The sky is falling, the sky is falling!”
    “Hey, I brought the radio from my studio I thought….” I’ll never know what Sylvia thought in that final moment before the sky clobbered her, because she’d caught sight of her husband being serviced in the ball room.
    Eric and his partner picked up the pace, their rhythm striving for the ultimate crescendo and I wanted to nudge Sylvia into action. If it were me in her shoes, I’d make damn sure he never got to finish, before I started the ritualistic disembowelment. But this was her crisis to deal with as she saw fit.
    Apparently, she needed more time, because she tugged me out the door and closed it soundlessly behind her.
    “Sylvie…,” I started, but any words I offered her would be cold comfort at best.
    “Why isn’t he in his office?” Sylvia’s asked in an even tone. Her perfect blond eyebrows met at the bridge of her straight nose. “He has an office on the second floor since he made assistant manager. Why the ball room?”
    “Does it matter?” I asked quietly, enraged both for my friend and with her. Why the hell wasn’t she confronting the faithless S.O.B? I had her back, if she needed moral support, or a wingman for the take down. I may not be fit, but I could definitely tackle Eric from behind and keep him pinned while she gelded him. Or rip the tramp’s hair out of her feather-headed scalp.
    Sylvia shook her head and stared at the ground. No doubt she was processing, making plans, deciding on the best way to handle the philandering scum-sucking cretin.
    I might have been a tiny bit miffed over the situation, but sometimes going with one’s gut was the best course of action. No amount of consideration would prevent Eric from getting his rocks off, but an accurately thrown ten pound barbell….
    Then, it was too late. Eric opened the door and I caught a glimpse of the dark haired woman stuffing her megaboobs back into her jog bra and casting him a disbelieving look for his obvious consideration.
    Eric brushed past me without acknowledging my presence, but stopped dead when his gaze took in a pale-faced Sylvia. She’d wrapped her arms around herself and wouldn’t meet his stare. Her posture radiated hurt in staggering waves, combating with the righteous anger I threw off on her behalf.
    “Sylvie, I….” He trailed off, searching for a cover story and she looked at him hopefully as if whatever came out of his mouth would erase the last five minutes.
    “We were just—”
    “Having a little oral sex.” The woman finished for him. Hell hath no fury indeed. This broad had taken in the scene, realized Eric had walked into a cauldron of hot water, and tossed a load of kindling on the fire. “Sorry Hon, he told me he wasn’t seeing anybody.”
    “This is his wife!” I yelled in outrage. Damn it all, someone needed to shout.
    The brunette blanched and I shot a scud-missile at her with my eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you that you perform sexual favors in a public place with a guy you barely know? Don’t you value yourself? Aren’t you worth more than a quickie on the sly with a lying pig? What would your mother think?”
    She opened and closed her mouth like a fish.
    “Maggie,” Sylvia pleaded, but I wasn’t done. Some things need attention in the here and now. I whirled on Eric.
    “And you! I actually thought you had a few brain cells to rub together. What kind of insensitive ass-Muppet betrays his gorgeous wife for five second orgasm with an overly-teased piece of fluff?”
    “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t you stay out of my business?” A warning threaded through Eric’s tone.
    Sylvia hadn’t said a word other than my name and continued to tug half-heartedly