Designer Drugs (18+)
"You don't know my past," I smirk at the well-dressed Italian man buying me a vodka-on-the-rocks at "La Fontana," the night club I decide to prowl tonight. "I don't even know your name, bella," he cooes at me, curling the compliment in a thick accent off his tongue. "And I don't even know yours," I sip from the strong...