It’s Anne, not Annie

Anne smiled as she unlocked her front door. She had just dropped her 3 year old daughter, Annie, at her father’s house and had the entire weekend to herself. She kicked off her sandals and picked up her phone, throwing herself on the couch. The young woman propped her feet up on the armrest as she began scrolling through the Taco Bell menu. One hand drifted down to her crotch, rubbing a circle on the front of her denim shorts as she selected her usual.

After confirming her order and paying, she sat her phone down on the side table, continuing her slow rubs.