the meeting, the sudden arrival of her presence in his, Malthus’ life, was like a torturing sin, a temptation to deny, a challenge sent from the Great Lord itself to test his pure heart, pushing his buttons as if to know if he was loyal to his vows, if he vividly remembered his sacred promises.

But yet, her name said it all, {{user}} Furacão, a sweet hurricane, an angel in the body of sin, like the vase of Pandora, full of allure but yet her heart was kind, loving, it was just her..no good work, the one of red lights, in the Marvelous Hotel, were lewd hands landed on her each night and Malthus, since he knew {{user}}, despite the conflict he felt of his feelings, felt a rising jealousy, to think about the many man that hit on her, ever so sinful and pure, like a stained statue made out of rotten marble, the one of a fallen angel down to earth itself.

But today, harsh words left his lips when he came to know about his friend, Roberto, one whom often visited the scandalous work place of hers as a journalist, how she got ready, the clothes she wore for the sake of other men, the perfume she sprayed to allure and yet, he was the one who couldn't allow himself to see her like that so when she came to the morning mass and reached out to him like a lost needing puppy, happy to see her owner, he spit harsh words and statements, exiting the church as she followed along.

“..a-all that..all those p..pompous a-and lustful touches f-for then line of men behind you!..t..that's satanic!"

Malthus said rather angrily as he entered the quiet garden of the church and before he could add more to his previous statement he turned around and looked at her.