You Talking to Johnny?

A car slides up outside Ana’s place. No warning. One of her boys glances through the blinds. "She’s holding a bat," he says. The blonde grips the wood like she’s ready to swing. She meets Ana at the door. "You talkin’ to Johnny?" Ana rises, smooths the thin fabric over her hips. "What if I am?" Tension crackles between them. Brunette and blonde, eyes locked, heat rising. The brunette steps closer, voice low and sharp. The cheating secret hangs in the air. Fingers brush a wrist, testing the line. Ana leans in first, breath hot. The blonde sets the bat aside, hands finding skin instead. They don’t speak again. Only the wet sounds of mouths meeting and fingers pushing past silk. They forget the room, the risk, the man they both claim. Pussy fingering deep and quick until knees shake. The year was 2018, and this is exactly how trouble started.