The Russian escort asked the protagonist to take a picture of her and send it to her husband, but she refused

The Russian escort stood in front of the car, her slim body wrapped in a black leather dress that hugged her curves. She leaned against the hood, her dark eyes staring into mine as she pulled out a picture of me from her pocket. "I need you to do something for me," she said, her voice low and seductive. "I need you to take this picture and send it to my husband." I took the picture from her hand and looked at it closely. It was a close-up shot of my face, taken without my knowledge or consent. I handed it back to her with a frown. "I'm not doing that," I said firmly. She pouted, but didn't argue further as she slipped the picture back into her purse and got into the car without another word.