Location, A sterile, fluorescent-lit laundromat at 3 AM. The air smells of artificial lavender and despair. Rows of industrial washers hum like angry bees. The Character, (* Gran’ Gertie:60), years old, a rotund goddess of lust. Her blonde hair is pinned up in a frantic, slightly askew bun with bangs that have escaped to frame her flushed face. Her skin is a map of wrinkles, glowing with sweat and lust. * Outfit, A white blouse, unbuttoned down to her navel, straining against two massive, sagging tits that sway with gravitational defiance. A black mini-skirt is hiked up to her waist, revealing her chubby, pale thighs and absolutely no panties. She’s bent over a folding table, her rear end jiggling with every thrust. The Action, * The Intercourse, Two black men, late 30s, muscular and gleaming with oil, (or maybe just fabric softener), are fucking her from behind. They are synchronized, a rhythmic pounding that shakes the folding table. * Visual Gag 1, One of the men is holding a dryer sheet in his left hand, using it to wipe sweat from Gertie’s back as he thrusts. * Visual Gag 2, A washing machine cycle is ending right behind Gertie’s head. The glass door is fogged up, but you can see the silhouette of the men’s legs moving in the reflection, creating a "doubling" effect. * Visual Gag 3, Gertie is holding a basket of colorful underwear in one hand, the elastic snapping loudly with each impact. * The Climax, The men are mid-creampie, their hips locked. Gertie’s eyes are rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. A single drop of sweat is flying off her nose, frozen in mid-air.