There was no anticipation when the jailers dragged Alex to his cell. There was dread. Alex didn’t like being alone, and was not mistaken how damaging his “correction” was going to be; “distortion” more like.
His choice was easy when he spotted the innocent whore. Was it because he was innocent, led to jail. She was innocent, getting led to a room to F-K?
She was innocent, though she’d gone beddie three or four times each day she’d been here, serving the wider, community, public interest. She’d had, roughly or smoothly, about five hundred experiences.
The innocent whore had not always lived comfortably, for there were no chaise loungue in the shack where she used to do what she did in the days of her innocence.
Leave a comment