It Is Addictive, I Mean The Rough Stuff Is Addicting

I'm an Architect, at least that's what it says on my diploma. I bought an old house in an old neighborhood, my goal was to update it and flip it. I met Frank next door, he had just retired from the railroad. He was handy and he agreed to help me.

We are tearing out the old floor and found a stash of old porn magazines, some hardcore stuff from the black and white days. Frank caught me looking at them. It was embarrassing, and he discovered my secret, or using his word 'persuasion'. Frank took his time. I knew it was a mistake from the beginning.

Time only made it worse, partly my fault, I wasn't able to turn it down, Frank wasn't either. I sold the house at a loss, I couldn't continue. Different generations, Frank's used to the rough stuff.