I am an escort. I screw men and get screwed for money, living my life everyday as Jericho Lane. My clientele list is immaculate. I am sought out, demanded and damn good at my job. I don't care that these men have families at home, or that they are important people. I do it for the money to survive. There is nothing that could make me feel a bit of remorse or concern about what I do because I was born with the inability to experience or feel emotions...I don't feel pain and I don't feel sorrow. I don't feel extreme happiness or love. I am void. A blank canvas of emotion. An empty hole in an endless sea of circumstances, moods, and relationships. Until one client changes everything.
