The city wasn't what a man would expect to find and yet she doesn't shy from her true face. She's a mirage, an idea, what a man of any walk of life wants her to be. She's a wilting flower surrounded by wolves, a high class prostitute, taken to bed by rich men, a silent promise of discretion of their dark actions from those that would destroy them with the knowledge of their indecent fantasies. The dark city was a harsh mistress, an endless give and take till you run out of give, while she keeps taking. To those outside her limits, outside her reach, in the confines and safety of righteousness, she was a simple gutter slut, taking any man's cock inside her, an attic to the darkness within a man's soul, drugged, dazed, and immoral, wandering from lover to lover.
A rich man with his toys, patting himself on the back from the top floors of his shining hill of steel and glass high above the rest of society, only to return home to a frigid wife and plotting children waiting for him to croak. A common man trying to pay an apartment rent, with a slutty wife, and a couple of snot nose kids who watch their old man hit the bottle almost as much as he hits his wife, and certainly the bum on the street, panhandling, down on his luck from his last bought behind bars, or in the casino taking the dirty jobs that will pay for their vices.
She's a marvelous beauty, she's an ugly diseased thing …
Welcome to Westeros City