You opened the dryer expecting socks.

What you got… was curves.

Hex Maniac, curled up nude in the metal drum like she’d crawled in straight from the abyss. Steam from the warm laundry wrapped around her like fog over a haunted lake.

You blinked. “Hex?!”

She gave a sleepy smile, hair wild, chest rising and falling like she’d been napping in secret.

“I wanted to be soft and toasty when you found me,” she whispered. “So I warmed myself. For you.”

“You’re… you’re naked in my dryer.”

“I knew you’d like that,” she said, stretching slowly—hips shifting, her thick thighs parting ever so slightly. “Do I feel warm enough to touch?”

You made a noise between a cough and a prayer.

She wiggled one finger. “I could go back in. Wrinkle myself up for you.”

You had no idea if that was a joke.

She probably didn’t either.

She just wanted you to reach in.

And pull her close.