Disclaimer: Joss/Mutant Enemy/Universal pwn. That's all there is to it.

***

It all started with a boy. And I say boy because, though he was nineteen years old, he wasn't quite a man yet. He was charming, he was rich, and he certainly knew what he wanted to do with his life, but he lacked the emotional maturity to know what he wanted out of life. In the end, he let his childish fears and social insecurities dictate the path he would walk down, and I was forced to take the high road. It's not something I enjoyed, but it is something that I'm proud of myself for. If I had stayed, I surely would have regretted that decision for the rest of my now empty life.

Before I enlighten you with the tale of how and why I came to feel this way, let me first begin by explaining the nature of what I am. Who I am has nothing to do with my recollections, and beyond what I know and feel inside, I'm not entirely certain of that little detail myself. But what I am is much less difficult to relate and quite essential to understanding my motives and reactions throughout the course of this memoir.

I am a companion. Companions are not, as some might say, glorified prostitutes. We are artists in our own right, and can talk more comprehensibly on the subjects of politics and the economy than most men and women in government. Our purpose is to please, whether it be with the prowess of our sex, the fineries of our culture, or simply the inclination to listen and comfort. When you pay for our services, you do not merely buy our bodies, but our time and engagement.

My own training began at the age of eleven, whereas many of my peers were a year or more older than I was. To say I excelled in my studies would be an understatement, though I'm not one to brag. I prefer the shroud of mystery, illusion, and untold secrets that surround the more refined of our kind. I certainly hold enough inside of myself that giving off this perception is not particularly hard for me. On more than one occasion, I've been to