Erotica Harem

Title: Pretty Boy Dead

Chapter:One

Author:Jon1260

Setting:

Your descriptions of the city of Atlanta and its history were excellent. I’ve never been there, but your imagery helped me get a feeling for the place. Well done. I could picture the gym and locker room easily with your vivid descriptions. Great job!

Character Development:

Jason: He’s being watched and knows it. Danger is nipping at his heels. Although fear threatens to overwhelm him, he chooses instead to use stealth tactics and varied movement to elude his watchers. He shows strength of character and spirit to make his plans and keep going in spite of the terrible fear and danger threatening him. I look forward to finding out what he’s going to do next. He also seems to care a great deal about physical fitness.

Johnny: Although we don’t meet him in this first chapter, I get the impression he is someone Jason cares about and doesn’t want to abandon. Because he cares about him, he decides to keep him out of danger and not bring him along. Perhaps we might hear more about this character in later chapters.

Tim: A minor character so far who cares about the normal “guy” stuff, like hot sports cars. Friendly, but who knows?

Referencing:

Contemporary setting. Everything seemed in order and completely believable. Well done.

Plot:

Jason is being watched and is aware of it. Due to his level of fear, whoever is watching is dangerous. Jason has a plan and is very close to implementing it to escape his pursuers and protect the people he cares about. This is a great hook to draw the reader into the next chapter. Good job!

Grammar:

The only grammar issue I’ve noticed is a tendency toward over-long sentences. I suggest breaking up some of the longest ones for better flow. Also, some sentences seem incomplete. Examples in General section below.

General Suggestions:

Please remember these are only my suggestions and you may either use them or not as you see fit for your story.


A young man strode purposefully across the parking lot, eyes darting left and right, snatching menial glances in every direction. Everywhere that is, but the spot yielding the hidden telephoto lens keeping steady pace with him, auto-focusing as he hurried alongPeriod. He seemed unaware that every movement, indeed his entire day had been recorded to film. The camera, wielded by the a hired professional with a steady hand and focused diligence, snapped incessantly as its target reached the entrance to the popular health club and dashed inside.

The last frame clicked as the glass door closed. The photographer glanced at his watch, stretched his neck to both sides before slumping behind the wheel of a late model light blue utility van, settling and settled for the next hour or so.

[]

Jason had been troubled for more than a few days now. He was alarmed of who might be following him, who wanted to track his every move, who in fact wanted to see him dead. He sensed someone might be following him, spending the past several days glancing over his shoulder, suspicious of everyone and trusting no one. He sported dark shades to conceal his angst, ever careful of not loitering in one place long enough to even be noticed. He changed his routine, even taken to traveling several blocks out of the way to his destination in an overt aim to evade the unwanted eyes skulking out there. Anything he might do to avoid the inevitable. They were watching.

Jason dealt with his fear like an inexperienced criminal on the run; the evidence stacked against him, fearing the consequences of his actions. Just a few more days of dodging the unknown shadows on the street, the late night voiceless calls, the mysterious dark-glass vehicles, unseen shadows around every blind corner before he could board boarding a small jet on a one-way ticket out of this hellhole, away from this hazy city he loathed. He planned to leave Atlanta comma and indeed this country behind, spending the a few months of his newfound freedom lost in the vast tropical wonderland of the Caribbeanperiod. He would move moving from island to island, never settling long enough in one spot to attract attention. He must distance Distancing himself far from anything he knew -- and those who knew him -- his family, his friends, a laundry list of adversaries, all awaiting their turn, their revenge. Leave behind the secrets and innumerable lies, but most of all, the incredible fear churning deep inside himperiod. The cruel overwhelming uncertainty of it alldelete comma plagueed his every muscle, every fiber of his being, weakening his resolve and threatening to destroy him before his planned escapeperiod. He needed to get far enough away from the danger that all but consumed his enigmatic existence for these past few weeks.

The thought of never again seeing his buddies pained him, what few remained, though he possessed a talent of attracting the most skeptical with a warm, easy smile and flare for engaging conversation. It pained him Repetitive phrase. Suggest changing to something like “It hurt” to leave Johnny behind, his best bud of late, wishing like hell the opportunity existed to take him along. He envisioned them having a blast in the warm tropical paradise, soaking up the golden rays, blowing wads of cash like worthless Monopoly money, and drinking icy-cold Margaritas under wind-swept palms. Better yet, scuba diving in the translucent waters off the coast of Grand Cayman where the brilliant colors of tropical fish and the reef reminded him of a childhood storybook tableau.

Bringing Johnny along might indeed prove too risky, even for him. Disappearing together raised suspicion, perhaps provoking desperate actions by those determined to see their days numbered. Ferreted out and hunted down like animals in an urban forest, it would be just a matter of time between what fate bestowed and death imparted. Considering all at stake, all he meticulously planned and put into motion, the it was an up-front chance he just couldn’t take. And there was so much at stake! Wasn’t that the point? Why else spend over a year planning and carrying out such a scheme? Yet, he had a plan; a master plan so incredible, so inconceivable it went beyond belief perhaps even for him. But a plan just the same that only he could invoke and one that he was sure would work. Everything depended on it.

Jason resigned weeks ago to disappear alone. To leave behind his birthplace comma instead of semi-colon. Editors frown on too many semi-colons. a city he once loved as much as his mother did. Atlanta, a former Olympic city still basking in the glory days of the past, proliferate with alluring history and infectious southern charm and surrounded by waves of emerald beauty and endless tranquility. Hard to believe the city infamous for its rebel heritage and Southern pride once faced devastation as Sherman lead his men to the sea. With its young history laid bare a century before, the pinnacle of the new South rose from the midst of the northern invasion like the soaring phoenix from Dante’s Inferno. The city’s cultivated, multimillion dollar new image was of presented an attractive place to live and work, with an adopted motto as contemptuous as the marketing team who conceived it. A “City Too Busy To Hate” campaign paved the way for an award winning media blitz that pumped through various outlets across the country and worldwide, earning accolades for the designers as businesses and residents alike flocked to the multicultural area.

Beyond the modern glass skyscrapers, the dogwoods and acres of lush evergreens, Atlanta became a city just as mired in political scandal, organized crime and racial tension as any other major player in the modern world.

Jason saw little choice than to abandon it and anyone who knew him. Carmine all but guaranteed such fate. There was no turning back now. The axis was set in motion.

[]

Thursday wasn’t his usual workout day move comma to here but Jason felt pumping iron would help to calm his nerves. He intentionally parked near the front door of the health club, having bolted from his vehicle while stealing glances about as he rushed along the parking lot. Upon entering thegym, Tim, a tall, gangling bleach-blond teenager dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans working the front desk and chatting on a cell phone, greeted him. This sentence has too much description at once. Suggest breaking it up a little, like: Upon entering the gym, Tim, a tall, gangling, bleach-blond teenager dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans greeted him. The boy often chatted on his cell phone while working the front desk, and today was no exception.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Tim asked, closing the phone and shoving it into the front pocket of his oversized Abercrombie and Fitch jeans period. The pants hung below his thin hips and revealed about an inch of plaid boxers.

“Not much.” Jason huffed, pushing a black embossed membership card through the electronic reader on the counter.

“ Nice Porsche. Boxter, right?” Tim asked. “Yours?”

“Yeah,” he said, disinterested, but sounding arrogant.

“Cool! Wish my old man would buy me something like that.”

“Yeah. Jason snorted. “Wish my old man would buy you something like that, too.” This seemed a very odd answer without an explanation. Why would Jason’s dad buy Tim a car like that? Glancing through the front window at the shiny sports car that sat glistening in the morning sunshine of early March, his thoughts flashed to his mother. He’d bought the car over a year ago with the annual proceeds of the trust she left him.

He grabbed a fresh cotton towel from the wire basket atop the reception counter and breezed through the corridor, catching his stride in the mirror. Like every weekday morning, the dressing room was packed with prudish executive types donning color coordinated gym clothes and gleaming air or jell stocked sneakers, readying themselves for a grueling forty-five minute workout before charging off to their respective corporate offices. His attire was simple: delete extra spacea pair of burgundy sweats left over from his catholic high school days, a faded muscle tank and well-worn sneakers without the benefit of socks.

Unlike most vying for an empty locker in the stuffy room, he didn’t hurry. He relished pushing iron early in the morning. It helped to get the day started, his blood flowing, the muscles pumped full of adrenaline. Besides, days of anxiety plagued his body and what better way to ease the jitters than to tear down some solid muscle?

In the center of the room, Jason located the only footlocker not sporting a combination lock, left vacant for those willing to endure silent scrutiny. He hurried to undress, aware of the eyes cutting his way. He enjoyed the attentionperiod. The groping eyes and the leering stares, having grown accustomed to the envious looks over the yearscomma had been a product of his life as long as he could remember. As a child, he delighted in the fuss adults made over him, women, some men, lamenting him with special little gifts of affection, an unending supply of chocolate ice-cream or jelly-bellies; his favorite. Through puberty he became aware of his stellar features, his agile build and the rewards an infectious smile brought. It didn’t take long before he came to appreciate his Adonis-like looks and the attention it gained him.

He faced the locker and unbuttoned his shirt, letting the starched oxford slip from his broad, muscular shoulders. He thought again of his endearing plan. Though he rehearsed the lines over and over in his head, he still agonized over the possibilities. It seemed no amount of prep would ever change the fact that something might go wrong and he could not afford another blunder. It would be too disastrous. By now,Those watching and following his every move may might grow anxious and respond with drastic measures. Time, as the saying goes, was running out for this pretty boy with the angelic face.

He hung the garment on the metal hook provided before straddling a bench to remove his shoes. He sat up and gazed forward, focusing on a tiny crack in the far wall, rehearsing the script in his mind for what must have been the thousandth time. Some commotion followed as a wave of newcomers replaced the old with hurried frenzy.

He stood and tugged his t-shirt over his head, slipping from the fabric like a snake writhing free of skin. Tossing the undershirt into the locker, he slipped out of a snug pair of button-fly 501’s and secured them before dressing in his gym clothes and exiting the room like a rock star on his way to meet his many fans.

The exercise room was long and rectangular, with a high warehouse darkened ceiling divided by a mirrored partition that ran midway through the main floor. To the left were bench weights designed for working the chest and shoulders, a multitude of barbells to work the upper-body, various stair-climbers, elliptical and row machines, digital stationary bicycles and a wall of state-of-the art treadmills. The right side held machines for exercising the arms, legs, back and stomach as well as several traditional pulley devices scattered throughout. After thirty minutes of cardiovascular warm-up, he strode across the gym floor to the free-weights, determined to rid his body of the nervous tension that all but consumed him. He tackled the bench press with vigor, completing four sets of twelve reps each before hitting the incline press. He pushed through another four sets, repeating the same routine on the decline, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He continued the same grueling regiment for well over two hours to the point of exhaustion, succeeding in reducing the tension plaguing his muscles. After grabbing a cold bottle of water from the cooler up front, he headed for the showers.

Jason stripped from the sweaty gym clothes without the leer of an audience and walked naked to the showers, choosing the middle stall. In the white tiled enclosure, he stood beneath the steady stream of warm water, allowing it to cascade across his aching body, soothing the joints and caressing his torn muscles. He found the warmth of the water exhilarating and a relaxed smile formed across his face as he lathered. Steam swirled in the enclosure, engulfing his torso as he rinsed. His body responded, the young muscles relaxing before beginning their cycle of regeneration. He stood beneath the water several minutes longer, eyes closed, recalling the events he now regretted being a party to. A whirlwind of remembrance surged forward, flooding his thoughts, enraging him. He felt sad and disheartened. First you state he’s enraged, and then sad and disheartened. That’s very quick. Perhaps you can combine them for smoother flow: A whirlwind of remembrance surged forward, flooding his thoughts, enraging him. Sadness mingled with the anger, leaving him disheartened. Why had he become involved? Why had he let himself get suckered into such a crazy scheme? And worst of all, why had he followed along?

He reached out and cut the water, stepping out to towel dry. Naked, Unnecessary to remind us he’s naked because he was just in the shower. He crossed to a cubicle in the john of the third stall and latched the door. There, for a few joyless moments, he enjoyed the stimulation of an imaginary lover, recalling a past encounter, a favorite fantasy and pumping his hand into his groin. He masturbated, Here you seem to be repeating yourself. To me, these two phrases mean the same thing. If not, please clarify. further attempting to erase the anxiety he felt creeping slowly back into his soul.


Personal Opinion :

You’ve created an intriguing beginning to your story. I’m left asking questions, which is exactly what you want your reader to do in order to hook them in. Who’s watching him? Why is he in such danger? How is he going to get out of it? Well done. My biggest suggestion is to work on your sentence structure. Try varying the length of your sentences for smoother flow. Overall, your character is engaging and the story a mystery. You’ve made a great start and I look forward to reading more. Good Job!


Blue-Inspired (Chris)