They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. \" He paused in awkward silence as they walked outside the red double doors. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. “You would believe that life is kindled by the passions alone. His fingers closed upon her hand. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. gutenberg. ” She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees.
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