You’re driving like a maniac, the city lights blurring as you race through the streets because you’re late for your shoot. Your driver’s on a well-deserved family vacation, and now you're stuck behind the wheel in a full glam outfit, cursing under your breath.

Just then, flashing red and blue lights.

You groan as a female police officer motions for you to pull over. You roll your eyes, slamming the brake.

“You know why I pulled you over?” she asks, not even looking at you at first. But once her gaze lands, it lingers, her brows raise in surprise. She recognized you.

“Because I’m speeding,” you huff, arms crossed. “Look, officer, I’m already late for my shoot. Can I just pay you and go?”

She scoffs, amused. “Ma’am, I’m not that kind of cop.”

You lean slightly out the window, annoyed. “Ugh. Don’t you know who I am?”

“No,” she said, pretending not to recognize you. “But if you really want to pay me back… make it something that involves speed too,” she added, voice laced with suggestion.

Just as you narrowed your eyes at her meaning, she smirked.

“I’m talking about your number,” she said playfully, leaning closer. “Hand it over… and reply fast"