Steamy Dreams
“Double or nothing, whoever knocks me up by closing time gets the bar too!”
Old man Jenkins, eighty-two, shuffles forward with his walker and a grin full of dentures. “Been savin’ this load since ’98, baby girl.”
I spread my legs, wink at the crowd, and the line forms again.
Rusty’s doesn’t close for three more days and somewhere in the chaos my phone, dead on the floor, still has 400+ reactions frozen on a livestream that’ll live in Riverbend legend forever.
I’m not pregnant but damn if I’m not the richest whore in three counties, swimming in cash, cum, and the kind of love you can only get from a town that bets on your fertility and still buys you breakfast.