to walk in a dark alley aveo desire, that at times overshadowed the nights are silent desire, when fate led her to the lady before me sloppy, the appearance is poor, sweet but finally, he had great eyes and black hair, his hands of parish priest, that white skin with tremulous cingea dedication luma moon of his back and reached us with his cautious pace so little revealed, and yet I smile came to my mind is clear that radiated every dark corner.
noblewoman certainly not smiling through, it indicates a straight woman, with an inviting look, I left home, his art reveals that there was some occurrence.
I stayed for a little silent, gazing at her rosy lips and its uncertain expression, caressing flattery wrapped ... Its delicate appearance than the moon, selfish, did not show it clearly, perhaps to free up space in my thinking, and his face was as snowy hill, which spreads around in white gloss; Her eyes like the breeze that suddenly without t'avvolge site which offered shelter, his voice like a caress, allure me, I rocked her, burned with my cravings, without illusion, without a hidden purpose, without lying project.
And I smile at her mirror, pleased at his invitation reception, his humble abode my mattress, its scent of my world in those moments of true passion, immoral aspect for the public thought, I found it sincere comfort who lost all shadow of remembrance, of Quito desire.
Then, in the way to my bed, while I sought moon with severe look, aveo to mind a question: What is
, a prostitute, then the true aspect ... that of one who gives his grace for little money ... or those who can only barter with adulterated promise?
Alaric
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