The lightning lit the empty laundromat again, so I grabbed for the knob and opened the maintenance closet door. Nothing like a big, black, open maw in the middle of a storm. Now, where was the flashlight? Someone opened the front door. The wind howled over the washers and dryers and slammed the closet door shut. I stood in front of the shelves, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness again.

I found the flashlight on the second shelf and opened the door. "Hello! Anybody there?" I turned the corner. My flashlight beam illuminated a ski-masked face. I opened my mouth, but made no sound.

"I'm here for your clothes," he said.

"I...I don't have any clothes. I'm...I'm the attendant."

"The ones your wearing," he said. He pulled a large knife from a holster on his belt.
I couldn't scream. No one would hear me over the storm. I couldn't run. He'd catch me. I stripped off my clothes and stood there in my bra and underwear.

"I want those too."

I dropped those on the pile.

The man scooped up my panties and inhaled deeply. "What a beautiful scent you have." He took my clothes and left.