Paper Route

Penny paces her living room, wooden blinds striped across her skin. She shoots Apollo a text. Paperboy. Quick, before she loses her nerve. He shows up, grinning. They meet in the middle, hips bumping, fingers already tugging at clothes. She steers him to the couch, plops him down, and spills her nerves. “You’re younger. I run the whole block. If people talk, I look like the villain.” Apollo only shrugs and pulls her closer. “We already feel it. Why pretend we don’t?” That lopsided grin seals it. Penny caves, smile crooked. Hands back in each other’s clothes, they slide together on the couch—bodies bare, mouths busy, her riding him slow at first until the quiet living room fills with skin slapping, breathless moans, the couch creaking under every thrust. Their secret afternoon fuck turns hot, sweaty, exactly the wrong, right thing they both wanted.