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  Alive :

  The Real Life Confessions of a Male Escort

  Preface

  Chapter 1 Heavy

  Chapter 2 Sprite

  Chapter 3 Cut

  Chapter 4 Asleep

  Chapter 5 Music

  Chapter 6 Animate

  Chapter 7 Alive

  Conclusion

  I would like to thank everyone who stood by my side. This was an adventure, that I am now so thankful for.

  P.S: Seto says Hi

  PREFACE

  At the age of 17, Seto Venn fled from the south to the big city in hope of recreating himself after his parents were in a fatal accident. In Manhattan, he started off modeling with one of the more prestigious agencies, and that was when he was introduced to a woman named Jade, who ran an Escort service. Jade took Seto under her wing and taught him everything he would need to know to become a Doctor or (men of sex). He went from being a small time model, to one of Jades infamous men. This story follows the real life confessions of Seto Venn and the men and women that changed his life. The real life confessions of a Manhattan, New York, high paid escort, and the flair of the fast paced lifestyle.

  Chapter 1

  Heavy

  Thursday

  6:00 p.m.

  Seto

  The smell of rain and napalm covered the city. Heavy clouds, which the sun peeked from behind, enough to paint yellow-gold from the mountains to the skyscrapers of downtown. It hadn’t rained here in weeks and now that it did, it had a distasteful humidity in between showers, but a pleasant cool during.

  “I'm outside,” Seto Venn leaned in as he pressed the speaker. The speaker replied quickly with a Buzz confirmation, as if the sound of his voice alone green-lighted him. He walked upstairs, and then inside the unlocked door. He looked at his boots making sure his laces were tied in the right manner, and to make sure he wasn’t tracking the storm in with him.

  His eyes, moved towards the light blonde haired women who lay on her stomach on the stiff dark brown leather couch. With an expression of- “Took you long enough, but just in time.” The sun gleamed through the blinds onto her body creating striped patterns of light and shade.

  “Holly... Dam... I mean shit,” he said, with an almost ecstatic voice.

  “Hey,” she voiced looking at him now with an added smirk on her face.

  “Where did...” his eyes scanned the coffee table as he slowly took another step closer. “You get all this?”

  “I told you I was connected,” she said effortlessly, following any sudden movement in his eyes with hers.

  Two large Mason jar full of green herbs, the aroma was very lemony and impossible to ignore. He began thinking- I wonder if the neighbors can smell it.

  “You said you were off today?” Seto asked evenly.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not on call?”

  “No . . . how about you?”

  “No, no, I’m free, I have a meeting in the morning but,” he trailed off.

  Seto rubbed his chin, “Why don’t you, Finish getting dressed we got to roll,” he said with an authority of an urgent matter. She sat up and leaned onto the arm of the couch, checked her cell phone and then walked away from the table and headed into the bedroom.

  He watched her walk, marveling at her beauty, before he sat and put some herb in the vaporizer that lay on the table. He took one hit, and then exhaled,

  “Fuck it let's stay in...”

  Friday

  New day morning, 7 a.m.

  Mara

  On her way to the office the yellow light from the sun of dawn had not broken through the clouds. Her grey business suit, black heels, and stiff white blouse gave her a look of maturity beyond her age. The color of her eyes, matched the highway she headed down. When she got to her office she went to the weekly meeting, said, “Good morning,” to everyone and sat down and listened. She was a paralegal, a great one too. She had just finished law school and passed the bar and everyone knew she would soon be an associate lawyer and would not stop climbing. She wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Although, she had to work from under her father’s shadow at a neighboring firm.

  This did not phase her, and she didn’t see her father as competition. Even though she had not started practicing, she had already graduated, and taken her New York bar exam. Which she nearly scored perfect on, and the reporters didn’t let her forget it.

  She had her photo taken and an article written about her in the ‘Times’. However she requested that they did not show her picture. When they asked why? She would just tell them, “I did not want to,” and walk away. With her bar admission interview this weekend; last week she had received a call, asking about, “The Perfect Girl Mara Faye.”

  “Yes, this is her, but I’m not perfect,” she voiced. The voice on the other end of the line was her interviewer.

  The interviewer’s secretary had been lazily going through names of applicants on a list, and assigning them appointments and calling them, one by one. When one of the names she recognized for once. Immediately she set her an appointment for as soon as possible and informed her boss.

  When the interviewer called she had a casual tone of consideration when she voiced, “We went out of our way to call you,” and assured her that, “There would be no problems and she was excited to meet her.”

  “That sounds lovely, I’ll see you then.”

  After the meeting she went to her office and filed some papers, then made her schedule for the week. She finished her work early, and stepped out towards lunch, but before she left, she stared out the window over the highway and asked herself, “Is there more?”

  Her thought was interrupted, by a knock on the door. Miranda Waters walked halfway into her office, halfway standing in the door. She wore larger shades, and her bangs swept down to her shades not showing much of her forehead. She also wore a light beige trench-coat that went all the way down to her matching open-toed heels, with a white dress on that made her look like a dancer. The vibrancy of not only her clothes but disposition radiated through the office.

  “Yes, hello?” Mara said, remaining court and professional.

  “Hi, I have an appointment for Ms. Black.”

  “Oh, our senior partner Daniel, Mr. Black,” Mara said in a correcting tone of voice, “And he’s right down the hall, I can show you to his office.”

  “Oh that won’t be necessary,” Miranda said, turning to go.

  “Excuse me mam, but I love your bag,” Mara stopped her. Mara didn’t know why she was so attracted to this woman.

  “Oh, you do? It’s an Italian designer, it was a gift from my husband, to myself, on my birthday. That I bought for me.” She said gaily, spacing out her sentences for emphasis. . . “You don’t clean up to bad, yourself,”

  “Work attire.” Mara said humbly. . . “I’m Mara Bradley,” she said stretching out her hand. “I’m a paralegal here.”

  “Miranda,” she said in response. “Some of us are just born with the gift.” Miranda said, “Well if you excuse me, it was nice meeting you,”

  “Likewise,”

  Miranda noted that she found her attractive, something about the way she wore her suit or the way her hair swept, however she didn’t give the thought much life. She continued down the hall towards the office and spoke to the secretary out front. Then an attractive man wearing a smile, dark hair, and a dark navy blue designer suit came out and shook her hand.

  After the meeting, Miranda stopped by her office and said goodbye. Mara was still waiting, unusually for some reason, maybe to just get another glance of the beauty of this woman, to stare into her cold blue eyes. She had not tried to diagnose the reason.

  The senior partner was walking beside her, and Mara had smiled and waved to them both.

  When she left,
the lawyer who took her case, told Mara about the details, “You see that women, there?” He paused. “She’s about to take over 15 million from her husband, that’s one unlucky son of bitch, and she’s smoking hot.” How could you let that walk away from you?” he asked, then realized he hadn’t given her a chance to speak. “I tell ya, if I were that guy,” He trailed off as he walked back to his office, buttoning a button on his jacket.

  Before Miranda walked onto the elevator, she lifted her head, looked across the office and, looked back into Mara’s light gray eyes and smirked.

  9:00 a.m.

  Jade

  He thought to himself- how long will I keep to this lifestyle, this city? As he checked his phone for the time and date, it was March 5th, 9:00 am.

  He walked down the street, the smell of morning washed out by a thin rain that had fell since night. The sun did not break through the gray of the clouds, and the only light came from the sparkle of falling raindrops on what few leaves had started to grow back from the winter.

  Seto found himself walking into her apartment. A very luxurious space with no expense spared. Mostly white, with light blue bordering wallpaper. The first thing he always noticed was the smell. Such a great aroma. It was strong like a distinct perfume that never wavered. “Hey long time no see. . . “It seems like I only see you now when you want something,” she said with a smirk on her face.

  “You know why I'm here Jade,” he said, with a heavy voice. As he sat down on her leather white cushions.

  “Yes, because you’re getting smart. You know that no one else loves you like I do...” Jade said gaily, as she moved towards him and placed her hands on his chest from behind. Bringing her mouth close enough to whisper in her ear.

  “You’re wet. . . Let's get you out of those clothes.” As she unbuttoned his jacket he used his hand to push hers away. He sunk deeper into the couch and realized it made a scrunching noise from his damp clothes.

  “You know there’s someone else,” he said, consequently reflected on his relationships and realized that their actually may be no one.

  “Oh. I didn't know,” she uttered. “That would explain why you’re over at my place looking like this, she doesn't know how to take care of you. “I will take a bath . . . come,” she said as she slid her hands off his chest and then walked into the shower. He waited for a moment then followed her silently and undressed his clothing. Leaving only his stone bracelet on and wooden cross on his bare body, he entered the shower with her. He stepped into the shower, peering into her dark eyes.

  The water was hitting his back shielding her from most of it.

  She adjusted the temperature, leaned into him and said, “Take me,” her voice sober, almost violent. Letting her eyes fall to his chest, she smiled, in the assurance of a man who knew what he wanted. He muttered a lone word in reply, “Jade.”

  Her legs weak, she wouldn’t stand but lay in the bed. A white sheet with jade trimming; not even covering half of her body. One arm drenched across her body, covered her breast, the other pointed to an envelope with the name, ‘Miranda’ written in cursive, “That’s payment and your next job.”

  10:30 a.m.

  Lise

  She woke up in the hospital, when she thought she was at home resting. The burst of cool ac made her lean over to her feet. The wool blanket fell lazily from around her shoulders but, still kept her warm. She was still in her scrubs, in fact she still wore her stethoscope around her neck and nametag on her chest. The tag said ‘Lise Chan M.D.’ Her second shift was going to start in an hour. She picked up her phone and dialed her husband, seeing where he would be staying tonight.

  The fluorescent bulbs were turned off and only a dim light, lit the room. There was one other doctor in the room, who was listening to and watching some media on his phone. Her husband didn’t answer her call, but sent a text saying, “It isn’t so bad here, be back in 3 days.”

  She replied, “Ok.”

  Then set her phone down. She picked it back up and sent a text to another number, “Hey my place tomorrow morning.”

  She got a reply quickly, which was a picture of a key. She smiled as she laid back down.

  Chapter 2

  Sprite

  11:00 a.m.

  He was back into traffic, splitting cars that didn’t yield or the ones that drove next to each other. He was now just cruising, resting, and at that point just sitting on top of the bike. The sun broke over the trees of the horizon; not blinding, but cleansing him as he raced up the white lines.

  He passed a private airport where he saw planes circling, ready to land. The smell of napalm lingered in the air as his 2 tires cut through the city. The dark tint from the visor shielded his eyes from the sun, also shielded him from the onlookers of his bike, black leather jacket, jeans, and boots.

  He had a thought- life is perfect. If just for a moment, before a 1000 other thoughts came rushing in.

  He snapped back, as midday traffic was no time for daydreaming. He leaned the bike and took his exit. He followed the same street for a while, on both sides’ endless green fields that only stopped by a border of trees, which seemed to break into an endless forest. Or just a large house in the middle of a field surrounded by gates or fences.

  He turned on a street that was named ‘Lockheed no outlet’. The name resonated, and he sped toward his destination. He came to the end of the street where he was faced with 2 options, to circle back around or to enter the gated estate.

  This house was not the same size as the houses he passed on the way in.

  No. this one was much larger 2 or 3 times so. He looked at the gate and the golden letters, ‘FJ.’ There were two ivory post, one which held the address engraved ‘7483.’

  “Yep this is it,” he thought.

  The first thing he noticed was the smell of lemons, and the 2 giant lemon trees on both sides of the estate, and also smaller ones at the foot. He leaned the bike on the kickstand and looked around. There was no one to greet him.

  He stopped for a moment, sizing the estate to the sky; and the sky being swallowed by the peaks of the estate. He stepped off his bike, not turning it off, but left it idling. Since then, an all-black charger had pulled in behind him. A police model, but it wasn’t a police inside. Just a frail neighborhood patrol guy, wearing a black jacket with a golden badge imprint, and a navy blue collared shirt.

  “You try ringing the bell?”

  “No, I just pulled up . . . just admiring the house.”

  “Yea, it’s a real beauty . . . You lost?” he asked, looking at him, not being able to quite figure out his purpose here.

  “No, just visiting my aunt.”

  “Yea, they’re home,” he said, pointing to the black town car parked out in front. With his finger still pointed out, “They usually leave in that . . . so if not, there probably still here. “The gates open . . . go up and ring the bell.” The frail man said, as he inched away in his buffalo.

  Seto turned back to the estate, taking it all in, hopped on his horse, and headed for the door through the long paved driveway. Halfway to the estate he noticed that the gate was closing behind him. As if the sound of his engine had set off some alarm or sensor. He pulled up and parked his bike underneath one of the smaller lemon trees at the foot of the 20 steps to come, handling it gently like a newborn child. He started for the front door, there were 5 white polished marble steps leading to the big brown doors. With ‘QUID PRO QUO,’ written in gold at the top stair. On the last steps, the doors began to open and an average height man with a white, beady, and trimmed mustache stepped out and said,

  “Hello.” Waving his manicured hand. “Right this way.”

  “Hi I’m here for...” before he could finish his sentence. The attendant raised his eyebrow and interrupted,

  “Right this way, sir... our madam is in the pool house.”

  “Ok . . . Thank you.”

  “I’m Boris, if you need anything, just call me,” he said as they walked.

  “W
ill do Boris, I’m Seto. Seto Venn.”

  “Pleased to meet you Mr. Venn.”

  They walked down a long 10 foot wide corridor aligned with paintings, Greek pearl statues, end tables, benches, chairs, and aligned glowing sconces.

  His boots clicked on what he assumed to be Italian marble, in fact the green and white checkerboard patterns sparkled with a fresh polish.

  The assistant stopped just shy of two all-white doors, and looked at Seto. He had the face of man no older than 40, but his gray hair had given him the look of a man in his late fifties. The butler then reached for the door. Before he could touch the handle, the doors swung open, he placed his hands to his side and announced, “Mam a mister Seto is here to see you,” in a polite voice.

  “Thank you Boris,” a sincere womanly voice from inside the doors answered.

  There were two large clear windows with gold trimming, and two matching doors in the middle of the room, which split the room in half, separating the un-curtained clear windows. Seto looked beyond the room, you could see an outsized outdoor pool with a matching red and white diving board, and an awning.

  Seto stepped into the room and in the corner there was a woman, no older than 30 putting on lipstick in the mirror. She was wearing dark red lipstick and a white satin gown that covered most of her body down to her feet. Their eyes caught each other’s.

  “Hello Seto is it?” she said, with a smile showing her white teeth that matched her robe. He didn't respond he just kept looking into her eyes through the mirror,

  “Come over here,” she said, as she put the lid on, and set down the lipstick. She held his glance as he did, she noticed the lack of fear and shame in his eyes. He walked across the room, and stood behind her.

  “Why is your husband?”

  “Dead?” she interrupted openly and un-defensive. “No he’s very much alive . . . just away on some business and won’t be back until the start of the new week . . . I just get lonely here, I was looking for someone to spend time with.” She looked up to the mirror, smiled and then stood and faced him. Walked into him and leaned on his chest and said, "Sit," pushing him onto the couch, but the couch did not move an inch; heavy from the solid gold and ivory, with firm red cushions.