Gathering around the coffee pot are two well dressed people, the air of adulthood and lack of concern on their faces just further proving they're teachers, or would if it wasn't hidden in the aroma of cigarettes. The first was a woman, no more than a year or two separating her age from yours. Off signs of aging alone, you couldn't tell which way. However, the dark circles under her eyes and the haphazard way her files are packed definitely place her as a little older than you, she's been in teaching long enough to stop caring about the class and subjects. As if you needed to confirm these suspicions, she slams her files down on the counter between herself and the coffee maker and prepares her morning wake up over them. Though you can't see her finger from here, you're willing to bet she's single - the top of her blouse is unbuttoned and the slit of her skirt threatens to ruin her skirt at the slightest tug.
The second puts a damp spot on your panties as soon as you lay eyes on him. In addition to a handsome, well kept face, the rolled up sleeves showed off well built arms. And you know that the rest was built just as nicely. The second teacher is the hunk from the gym you're always eyeing during your workouts, your favorite reason for going to the gym. You never would have guessed he was a teacher, but then that might have been caused by profiling and objectifying him. Of course, his age certainly had something to do with it as well. You always pictured him as a college guy, not a high school teacher, though perhaps he's a student teacher. Whatever he is, he seems to be waiting on the coffee the woman is making.
At any other time, you would have gone right up to them and introduced yourself, hoping that she would be a useful coworker and good friend and that he would be all that and more. However, being half naked while your clothes are out of reach quickly extinguishes that idea and leaves you in the closet waiting for them to leave. You need to finish cleaning the soda stains out and let them dry, so even waiting for them to turn their backs is out of the question. The only good news is letting them soak should make the stains easier to rub out.
"I swear, every day is getting longer," the woman speaks up. "They must be, it's the only reason I could lose control of a class so quickly. I don't know how you manage to stay cheerful, Max."
"Call it my status as 'student teacher,'" Max replies. "Thanks to that I'm not working alone and the student-teacher ratio is smaller. Just keep your fingers crossed for next year, Tracey."
"Yeah, next year," she sighs, rolling her eyes as she crosses to the fridge. "Assuming I don't lose it by then."
Max holds off his next remark, his wandering eyes searching for the right words. All you can think about was if "it" meant her mind, or her job? It looks like she's about ready to lose either one.
Putting that out of your mind, your gaze falls back on the coffee maker. It's still not done yet! How are you supposed to get dressed if they're still here? And how are they supposed to leave if their coffee isn't done? You just focus, praying that there's some truth to The Secret and that focusing will make the coffee percolate. Unfortunately, it seems there is no truth.
"What the hell is this?" Tracey asks, fishing your clothing out of the sink. Just looking at her causes your heart to sink, the absolute lack of compassion in them being a sign of your sealed fate. Visions of that pink slip pass before your eyes, and the humiliation your going to suffer before and after that. This incident and the dismissal are going to carry over to your resume, jeopardizing any future job opportunities. And you'll never be able to show your face at the gym again.
Surprisingly, Tracey groans before half yelling, "That damn janitor! He's using our sink to do his laundry again! And this time he brought in his wife's stuff!" Tracey begins storming off, your outfit in hand.
"Wait," Max speaks up. "I know he's not allowed in here, but this will cost him his job. We can't do that to the poor guy. The fact that he's washing his clothes in here speaks volumes about his financial situation."
"I'm sick of this!" Tracey barks. "He never comes in here to clean, not even at night when he's allowed to. It's always our responsibility. Well, this is his mess, and he keeps forcing it on us. I'm not standing for it! It's hard enough keeping my own apartment clean and cleaning up after myself and my students around here. I'm not carrying his weight, too!"
"Tracey, let's be reasonable," Max calmly calls to deaf ears. Nothing is going to stop Tracey, apparently. She doesn't even let Max get in a real defense this time before she's already at the door. Max is on her heels, hoping to catch her and save the janitor. Naturally, he'll be spared the moment they find out those aren't his wife's clothes, but the bigger problem is this is going to leave you in just a set of lingerie and in prime position for that pink slip. At least they'll be gone, right?
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