I am drawn to the indescribable thought of him and me. I mean, it’s weird; a stranger approaches me and does not say that he wants to bang me, f**k me, spend me, burn me. He tells me he wants to make love to me. It is not easy to deceive me, except when I want to be deceived. It seems to me that I want to now. And indeed, in today’s world, it is easier to believe a man who says the word love than who says the word s*x. s*x has become a top priority, what sells everything, what makes a man betray another. Am I able to sell myself for a little physical pleasure? That sales-buying relationship still digs into my brain. If he approached me like everyone else and suggested something, I would refuse him. Without thinking. This is how it occurs to me to agree, but just not take the money. Why do my lips smile at the thought? Damn it, Isabella! It's not a problem for me to find a s*x partner. At the end of the hallway is a handsome Latino guy, but the thing is that I am intrigued by Oliver. I’m interested in the story behind that proposal, I’m interested in what it’s hiding. If I decide to find out, I hope to be able to deal with it.