Nineteen Eighty-Four1984

Winston Smith:
It was three years ago, on a dark evening. Easy to slip the patrols, I had gone into the proletarian areas. There was no one else on the street, and no telescreens. She said, "Two dollars.", so I went with her. She had a young face, painted very thick. Really, t'was the paint that appealed to me: white like a mask, and bright red lips. No preliminaries. Standing there with the smell of dead insects and cheap perfume, I went and did it anyway.