“I’ve never even worn you yet. So embarrassing,” she scolded it and finished loading the machine.The washer thrummed underneath Molly as she sat...on top of it, kicking her feet to the beat of one of her current obsessions, Tate McRae’s You Broke Me First. She looked around the room and her eyes locked on dryer #3. It had stopped tumbling but she knew the busted dryer well enough to know the clothes weren’t dry. Molly slipped off and walked over to it. She pulled an earbud out and looked around. I opened the door and behind the wheel was an older Black man, well dressed with grey hair. He was smiling, but his smile quickly faded as I jumped in. He introduced himself as Carl. As we drove, he said that at first he thought I was a girl, and he was hoping for some action. We laughed about it, and he told me that if I wore the right clothes, and maybe a little makeup, I could probably pass for a girl…and that thinking about it was making him hard. That seemed weird to me…and yet I was. More

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