Once he had grown so close to a lady and within a short time, the implication of their relationship almost wrecked his academic carrier; like a metamorphosis, a 'desquamation' of his very life epithelium.
Sitting at the pool side with Sally, The cool breeze blowing around them was calling to them to be warm, a physiological 'itch' that kept bothering Johns mind. In his mind was a war of two cities, the one that feared nothing and the other that was so familiar with the consequence of his actions; mistakes made that were so difficult to reconcile.
A friend had once told him that a good name was better, but another voice in his head kept hammering on the fact ''why not take what you can and move on.'' A soft spot on his heart wanted to help the young girl sitting by his side; he wanted to be different, yet his mind was bugged by the few minutes of pleasure he could have tonight, at least to ease his pain, an atonement for the pain he's passed through at the hands of a few women, even though it meant death to his salvation. John was scared he was getting psychotic, but he was still focused on the dream; the motivation that made him want to be a doctor, that desire to have a good name. He was resisting, but he soon found himself going with another flow, one that was being pushed by the experience of a girl born by the streets, bred in the streets and refined within the walls of the streets; a 'soft' girl by nature, wealthy by family privilege but impoverished by the madness of her society.
Sally was 'urging' and ready for sex, her hormones were on fire with decisive intent, she had been 'starving' and right now she was horny enough to 'rape' a man.
