DIRTY DADDIES
The old plumber is set to come over anyway.
But a dark, dangerous spark ignites in my belly. I know exactly who to call.
Definitely not the old plumber.
Leo shows up an hour later. Leo, the young plumber.
He smells of Marlboro Reds, engine grease, and the pure, musky stink of a man who hasn’t showered since yesterday. It’s the best thing I’ve smelled in years.
He’s maybe twenty-five. All tan, tattooed skin stretched over thick muscle. Not the clean, curated kind from a gym, but the hard, functional kind earned by breaking things and putting them back together.