Though Lana had looked upon the scenario with disgust, the dejected young man’s guise wasn’t altogether unfamiliar. This wariness toward the sanctity of monogamy and all of its restricting facets plagued her incessantly. This is not to say that Lana was a lascivious, polygamist slut, but rather to say that she was simply too enveloped by her own pride and disdain for the mutts that foamed at the mouth for a chance with her. The thrill of the chase was her finest attribute, though her killer thighs and bone structure could hardly be scoffed at. Lana was an unattainable entity of lustful desire, a specter in the dating circle. She just didn’t want any of that. She was a carbon product of the city she’d rummaged through and the men she’d disavowed could join the ranks of sewage waste for all she cared.
