With her being as inexperienced as she was with the disease, all Jo could do to respond to him was nod quietly. She thought she knew enough to recognize the sores, but maybe she was better off remaining celibate. She hardly wanted to die of some disgusting illness.

But, she also didn't want to die of perpetual horniness.

"Much the same, I would think anyway." The more she thought about it, the more she became confident sex with unknown partners was extremely dangerous. Even Holsten felt like a risk in this minute, for Jo had little clue who he was involving himself with. He was wealthy, after all, and could pay for a parade of syphilis rotted prostitutes. Fuck. What was she to do? For all her experience with sex, Jo had never experimented with her body independently. She knew what she liked, knew what others liked, but had no idea how to turn that back into self pleasure.

Frowning, Jo turned to look at some random seam on the sofa. Was this why Englishmen were so insistent upon marriage?! But a wedding hardly kept either party from straying! "I know you must have some ... awful impression of me." Jo began somewhat awkwardly, obviously the most uncomfortable she had ever been in his presence, "but I'm not ... " Whorish felt like the wrong word to say, for she did mess around freely. But, she was careful whenever possible. That had to count for something, right? "I don't know what I'm trying to express here...I don't usually hang out at men's flats with my clothes off."