Confessions of a BAD BOY Fighter
CONFESSIONS of a BAD BOY Fighter:
She’s a good girl from the right side of the tracks. I’m anything but. Which means I should keep my goddamn eyes and my hand to myself. But the thing is, I’m a fighter. My hands are my life, and sometimes they have a mind of their own—and most times they take without permission. When she agrees to a drink after my fight I take the mayor’s daughter to a nice restaurant. Only problem is she keeps licking her lips and that Sh$% is turning me on. I order her to the bathroom with plans to follow her in. If she knew what was good for her, she'd walk away and not give me a chance to corrupt the good girl. Then again, they don’t call me Fighter Bad Boy, because I’m…you know…good.
Confessions of a BAD BOY Cop
CONFESSIONS of a BAD BOY Cop:
Not only is she too young for me, she’s my partner’s daughter for Christ’s sake. If I know what’s good for me, I’ll stay far, far away. I’m a cop, with the law to uphold, but when I find her trying to stave off unwanted advances, I give her a safe word, insisting she text me with it if she ever finds herself in trouble. Only problem is, I had no idea what I was getting myself in to. Or maybe I did. Either way, years later when all grown up Layla texts me, and I discover she used the safe word to lure me into her bed, I know I’m in all kinds of trouble. I’m not violating any rules, but this is my best friend’s daughter, which means she’s hands off all the way, right? Then again, they don’t call me Officer Bad Boy because I’m…you know…good.
Confessions of a Bad Boy Professor
CONFESSIONS of a BAD BOY Professor:
She’s way too innocent for me and I know it—and I should leave it that. If I knew what was good for me I would. But fu%$ it. I rarely go with what’s good for me, which is why I’m sitting on a goddamn bar stool when I should be back at Penn State, grading papers. I don’t normally stay for a drink after a gig—and I really need to give this shit up—but tonight, I don’t know, there’s just something about the birthday girl that’s throwing me off. I should leave. I’m a psych professor, for Christ’s sakes. Ever hear of code of conduct? Yeah, well I’m violating every rule I promised to uphold—which is why I can’t act on my urges, right? Then again, they don’t call me Professor Bad Boy because I’m…you know…good.