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photos of Connor’s secret face, I’ll whip out my smart phone and take a bunch of candids and upload them to Vince with a headline inside of sixty seconds.
    MYSTERIOUS HEARTTHROB CONNOR HUGHES FINALLY COMES CLEAN. Exclusive Exposé to follow…
    I don’t want anyone beating us to the punch.
    “They’re with the convention,” Romeo says, motioning to the people with him. “Margaret asked me to escort them up here.”
    Great. I haven’t even started my interview. I need a settled room if I’m going to do it right. These people will be a distraction. Interview subjects aren’t apt to reveal the kind of sensitive information that makes for a juicy Q&A if they aren’t relaxed. This is a disaster. If I have any hope of uploading my article before my deadline runs out, I need everybody out of here.
    Romeo strides into the room like he’s on a mission. He stumbles to a stop when he sees naked Connor standing by the bed. He gasps, “What have you two been doing in here?!”
    “Nothing,” I grunt. Am I surprised that Connor’s cock is still half erect? No. And how does it make me look being in the room with him naked? At least I’m dressed, which gives me plausible deniability. I don’t intend to be a part of Connor’s steamy story. I’m just the reporter.
    “Did you shoot video?” Romeo demands. “I’d pay good money to watch your sex tape.”
    “We didn’t do anything,” I grumble.
    Romeo’s eyes dart between me and Connor.
    Connor shrugs, “I tried. Couldn’t get her chastity belt off.”
    “Do you need a key?” Romeo pulls a massive jingling keyring out of his black vinyl trench coat. “I have plenty.”
    “What are all those for?” I marvel.
    “Chastity belts. Handcuffs. Padlocked bondage outfits and ball gags.” He shrugs. “The usual. You never know when you might get stuck and need a key.”
    “What was your name again?” Connor laughs.
    Romeo twirls his hand in the air and does a low courtly bow. “Romeo Fabiano, at your dis service,” he says impishly. “I always aim to tease .”
    “Where should we set up?” the guy with the camera bags asks as he shoulders into the room lugging his gear, followed by the woman with the makeup cases.
    The makeup woman stops in her tracks when she sees Connor and his cock. “Ahhhh… should we come back later?”
    The photographer is all business, already setting up his gear. “We can shoot him from the waist up. It’s fine.”
    “But I have to put his makeup on first,” the woman says. Her own makeup is conservative but artful. She gives me a nervous glance. “I’m Beverly. You can call me Bev. Pleased to meet you.”
    We shake hands.
    “Nice to meet you.” Now she has an ally. I can tell she’s uncomfortable being in the room with naked Connor and the photographer. The photographer has scraggly long hair, a blurry tattoo of a naked woman on his pale upper arm, and those yellow tinted shooting sunglasses. He reminds me of a sketchy gun-toting anarchist. What woman wouldn’t be nervous in this situation? It’s not like Romeo is going to pull a laser rifle out of his Matrix trench coat and save Bev and I if the men get out of hand. I smile at her, “My name is Electra.”
    “That’s a nice name,” she says warmly before setting her makeup cases on the low chest of drawers along the wall. She starts unpacking them with practiced skill.
    “I’m Ted,” the photographer says to me, offering his hand. His jagged smile says he’s trying to flirt.
    Ted? Like, Ted Bundy? The serial killer?
    “Nice to meet you,” I say politely, withholding my name even though he probably heard me give it to Bev. I’ve dealt with crazies on assignment in the past, but Ted seriously skeeves me out, and I don’t skeeve easily. I briefly shake his hand, which is rough and calloused. He seems like the kind of guy who likes to tie women up and lock them in his filthy roach-infested sex bunker. His hands are probably calloused from tightening all his itchy