Joe takes Wendy home

The zipper clicked shut just as Wendy twisted away, her dress clinging to her damp skin as she shoved open the screen door. The night air hit them like a slap—crisp with the threat of frost, carrying the distant scent of gasoline from Joe’s idling truck. Gravel bit into her bare feet as she sprinted across the driveway, her breath coming in sharp, visible puffs.

Joe cursed under his breath, barely catching the door before it slammed. His boots crunched after her, the truck’s headlights painting her silhouette in stark relief—the way her dress rode up her thighs as she yanked the passenger door open, the tremor in her fingers as she fumbled with the seatbelt.

The truck door slammed with a hollow thud as Joe wrenched it into gear, gravel spitting beneath the tires. Wendy’s knees knocked together, the vinyl seat creaking as she twisted to face him, her nails leaving half-moon indents in her palms. "Joe, *please*—" Her voice cracked like thin ice. "My parents are gonna *kill* me for being out this late."

His jaw tightened, the dashboard lights casting shadows under his cheekbones as he glanced at her. The speedometer needle trembled at 50, then 55, the engine growling as his foot pressed harder.

The truck’s cab vibrated with the engine’s growl as Wendy slid across the vinyl seat, her bare thigh sticking slightly before peeling free. She tucked herself against Joe’s side, her temple pressing into the solid curve of his shoulder. The silk of his shirt smelled like sweat and smoke, the smooth against her cheek as she exhaled.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the road’s hum. Her fingers curled lightly against his ribs, nails catching on a loose thread near his pocket. "Tonight was… special."

Joe’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening for a breath before he **** them to relax.

The truck’s headlights cut through the dark as Joe eased into her driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Wendy’s breath hitched when she spotted the glow of the porch light—still on. *Shit.*

She turned to Joe, her fingers trembling as they brushed his thigh. The cab was thick with the scent of them—musky and warm—and for a heartbeat, neither moved. Then, with a slow, deliberate shift, she hooked her thumbs under the lace at her hips. The fabric whispered against her skin as she slid her panties down, the damp silk clinging briefly before she let them drop into his palm.

"Keep these as a souvenir “with a grin on her face,," she murmured, her voice low and rough.

Joe’s fingers curled around the damp lace, the heat of her still clinging to the fabric. His breath hitched as she leaned in, her lips brushing his—soft at first, then urgent, her teeth catching his lower lip just enough to sting. The cab filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the taste of her lip gloss sticky-sweet.

Her hand slid up his chest, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt as she kissed him harder, her other hand still braced on his thigh. The truck’s engine idled, a low growl beneath them, the dashboard lights flickering across her flushed cheeks when she finally pulled away.

Joe watched Wendy as she walked toward the front door, her bare feet whispering against the dew-damp porch boards. The screen door whined on its hinges as she slipped inside, her silhouette flickering for a moment against the hallway light before vanishing. A floorboard creaked in protest—too loud—and Joe’s fingers twitched around the steering wheel, still warm from her grip.

The porch light buzzed overhead, throwing long shadows across the truck’s hood. Inside the house, a muffled voice—her mother’s—sharpened into focus. Wendy’s reply was softer, swallowed by the walls, but Joe caught the hitch in it, the way she always pitched her voice higher when lying. Joe knew Wendy was probably going be in trouble with her parents as started to leave there house.