So normally I don’t do this. Normally, and I think we all prefer it that way, this is a pretty one-way kind of communication deal. So I say shit, and you read shit, and – I assume – we’re all a bit too embarrassed to try and talk to each other very much.
This is not really a blog about dialog and engagement, if you see what I mean. Because of how it’s about my life as a secretive smut-merchant.
The washing machine, though.
I am a little curious about this one. I am really, really fucking curious.
So yes, I did do, um, research.
Feel free to laugh now.
Yes, I went and sat on the fucker in the interests of research. Hey partner beloved, I love you and I assume I’ll be hearing more on this when you see this post.
And for everyone else, please appreciate the shit I do for you. The towel inside the washer is an actual tip. From me to you. There you go. Now you just need to work out how not to drop your kindle while you sit there.
Or your laptop. That would be worse.
Anyways. I did research. As one does. And I don’t know if our washer isn’t the best model, or isn’t designed right, or for that matter if I’m not designed right, but I don’t quite get it. It’s fairly new and plastic and cheap as fuck and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t spin all the water out as well as it could. So, um, maybe its not the right model. Maybe you need some big old industrial hunk of steel that shakes itself like a fucking jackhammer.
So in theory I see why this could work. I mean, there’s rumbling, and it’s nice and everything. But its really only nice like a massage, not breathtaking heart-stopping nice like getting off. If you see what I mean.
For comparison. I once leaned on a metal railing kind of bit on a ferry, and the railing bit must have somehow been bolted to something that was bolted to something that was stuck onto the engine, because that really fucking worked. I mean, like this thing was a public safety menace, if you leaned on it the right way.
Which I didn’t, because of how I’m shy and everything. And don’t do the kind of shit my characters do.
The washing machine, however, was nothing like that. It was a bit dull, in all honesty.
So I’m kind of taking a step here, just being curious. Just to see how asking goes, and still wondering if this is a good idea.
This is a shout-out open-call kind of deal. I am now reaching out. Has anyone got this to work? And is there a trick? Particular machines? Sitting on a corner or something? A tight fitting lid so it’s moving as part of the whole thing, and not seperately?
I’m just really fucking curious, is all.
So don’t say anything if you don’t want, because I probably will just get all weird and bat-shit if anyone does. I’m just dipping a toe and asking and seeing how this works.
Because I’m curious. And nosey.
And I’ll stop trying to turn this into a dialog if no-one else wants to. That’s cool too. It is smut, after all.
And yes, I do know a particular spot on a particular ferry where shenanigans may go on. And I so completely do look knowingly at anyone I see standing there. Leaning. Looking out all soppy-eyed at the romantic view of Sydney harbor. And I bet it isn’t just me who knows about what either.