There’s nothing wrong with a little sexy foreplay for your Vegas one-night stand, am I right? It only becomes a problem when you get home and realize your hook-up now has naked photos of you in your full glory (and I am glorious, don’t worry about that). Now I have no way to track her down.
Maybe she won’t sell the pictures to the press, even if I am a NHL hockey player and she stands to make a mint. There might still be good–and really, really smokin’ hot–people out there. I’m staking my career on a stranger’s moral compass.
That’s what I hope for, at least, until I discover that Smithy aka Morgan Smith is now moonlighting as a paparazzi. She needs the money to help her kid and I can’t tell if she’s playing me or if she’s actually a decent woman who won’t resort to blackmail.
I don’t want to believe she’ll sell my pictures but she’s in a very, very tight spot. So am I: those pictures can ruin my career.
Is it wrong that I’m still madly attracted to the one woman who can destroy me?
I need a solution to this dilemma so we can both move on with our lives and go our separate ways. Because I am not the kind of guy who falls for anyone, least of all his one night stand. No matter how badly I want her.