The Girlfriend Experience (Chapter Twelve)


 

Chapter Twelve

 

“You got a job doing what?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, watch it! Quiet down!” Lindsay ripped the Bluetooth device from her ear and switched her smartphone to speaker mode. “I don't want your parents or brother to hear you and have any suspicions about me and what I'm doing here.” If word ever got out … RIP my life.

“Okay, okay, okay.” On the other end of the line, Evelyn Bancroft needed a moment or two to harness her thoughts. “This was … unexpected.” There was another pause before Lindsay's lifelong best friend back in Citronelle spouted off in a low tone, “You got a job at a whorehouse? You're a prostitute? What the fuck, girl?” Evie hesitated again. “Don't worry, I'm in my bedroom. No one can hear me.”

“I like it.” Lindsay wished Evie had a calmer, more open-minded reaction to this stunning news, but expected this. The pair of eighteen-year-olds grew up two blocks apart in the shadow of Joshua Tree National Park in the southeastern California desert and had been BFFs for as long as they could remember. They were exact replicas of each other in certain ways and Lindsay believed she could trust Evie with anything. And this working at the brothel thing? It was eating Lindsay alive, and she had the burning need to tell at least one person back home about it.

Just not her mom or dad.

Or her three sisters.

Any of them would kill me if they found out.

And especially not Zack.

Oh, God.

“It's not as bad as you think. I did almost a year's worth of research before …”

“Why would you get a job at a whorehouse?” Evie cut Lindsay off in mid-sentence, her voice an impassioned whisper. She glanced all around to make sure the coast was still clear. “What did you call it? A … brothel? Jesus Christ, Lindsay! Aren’t those places swimming in drugs and disease? How did you get mixed up in this?”

“It's not as bad as you think,” she repeated. “It sure beats the hell out of living and rotting away in Citrosmell. I've done that long enough.” Lindsay’s snippy retort was accompanied by the classic teenage rolling of the eyes. “People and society in general have unfair misconceptions about whorehouses and the sex industry. Evie, you know me, and know I’d never get mixed up with drugs and …”

“What do your mom and dad think?”

“They don't know, and you can't tell them! You can never tell them!” Lindsay rolled onto her frontside upon the bed, her eyes wide, her tone as serious as it had ever been. “God, Evie. They'd freak out! You can't tell Gina, Jennifer, or Alison either.” She fidgeted with the edge of her pillow. “You're my best friend and I'm trusting you with the single biggest secret I'll ever have in my whole, entire life! Don't. Let. Me. Down!”

“I won't, I won't.”

“You have to swear. Swear to me you won't tell anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, I swear.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Lindsay exhaled sharply. “Thank you.” Evie was the one person Lindsay confided in about everything. She’d never stab me in the back. But admitting this to her still seemed like a massive risk. An unnecessary one too. Don’t worry, you can trust her.

“Come to think of it … yeah, I guess your mom and dad don't know yet. But I can tell you this: I saw your mom at Citronelle Market the other day, and she was grilling me about you. She kept saying you ran off to Las Vegas and was sure you'd gotten into some sort of trouble and was acting like I knew all the details. She demanded to know what you're up to and I'm like, Leslie, I don't know. I swear to you, Lindsay didn't tell me anything either.”

“Did Mom believe you?” Mrs. Anastacio called and texted Lindsay daily and wouldn’t stop pressuring her about why she’d decided to leave home and move to Nevada. Mom won’t let up; I’ve never seen her act this hardcore. Lindsay had been able to fend her off so far but didn’t know how much longer she could continue to do so.

Evie laughed. “No. Your mother called me I’m a liar.”

Lindsay groaned and covered her aching forehead.

“She’s gonna find out one way or another. There's no way around it. She's also pestered Katie and Shannon, and it wouldn't surprise me if she hops into her station wagon any minute now and drives off to Las Vegas and rips the city apart looking for you.”

“I'm not in Las Vegas. I'm in this little town way north called Flagstone.” Lindsay massaged her temple again and winced. “It’s gonna be such a disaster when the shit finally hits the fan. I’m not looking forward to that moment at all.” She drew her shoulders back and flexed. “I originally told Mom and Dad I got a cleaning job at the Citadel Resort on The Strip but figured it would be too easy for them to catch me in a lie. So, I told them I quit – it wasn't the right fit for me – and have been working for this cleaning agency as an outcall maid. Told them I have a friend named Pamela and share a little apartment with her in Henderson.”

“Henderson? Where's that?”

“Just south of Vegas.” Pamela told me she and Colt got married there ten years ago.

“And Pamela? Who the hell is Pamela?”

“She’s an actual friend of mine. A coworker.” My future wife! “Mom demands I text her back every morning and every night, too, to let her know I’m still alive. That someone didn’t murder me … or something.” Lindsay levelled a glare against the far wall. “I’m old enough to take care of myself, you know? I don’t know why Mom has gotta be throwing shade all over me the way she does. I don’t need her help, or her protection anymore.”

“She’s worried about you. That’s why.” Lindsay could tell that Evie was worried about her too and wanted to be certain she was okay. “I know you’re adventurous and have a wild streak a mile long, but good God, becoming a prostitute? This is so unlike you.”

“I know.” Lindsay closed her eyes to absorb the reality but instead focused on all the money she’d made thus far and how her new career was already jumpstarting her life. Giving it the kick, the boost, it badly needed. “I just had to get out of Citronelle and this was my best option.” No, it was my only option. I was a failure in school and I’m not smart enough – good enough – to go to college.

… I refuse to sling corn dogs for the rest of my life.

“Lindsay. Wow. I’m not passing judgment. Please don’t think I am. It just hurts like a bitch you’re four hundred miles away and not part of my daily routine anymore.” Evie touched her heart and fought against the threat of tears. “I miss you.”

Lindsay nodded dryly. “I miss you too. I miss you more than anything or anyone back home.” Damn those dark brown eyes and rosy red lips, and how wonderful it would be to kiss them right now. “No matter what, Evie, can we just continue being us? I’d like that; I need that. No matter how far apart we are, you’ll always be my best friend.”

“Of course. I’d do anything for you.”

A few moments later, their conversation had shifted.

“Remember when you ate that apple pecan salad in Talia’s car and you forgot to ask for no bleu cheese? You decided to take out the bleu cheese and when you left, to like, leave and go home, you left your garbage in the car and the whole car smelled like bleu cheese.”

“Oh, my God. I still can’t believe I did that.” Lindsay couldn’t suppress her grin as she enjoyed a Diet Mountain Dew. She’d since wandered off to the kitchen and was surveying the snack possibilities. “Talia was so pissed.”

“It’s too bad you skipped town, you know. Talia is hosting a post-graduation party Friday night at her house.”

“Oh yeah? Who all is coming?”

“Hmm, I think it’s gonna be Clancy, Anna, Katie, Shannon, Peter, and Celeste. It’s not gonna be a true party, I guess, more like a small gathering. Talia’s mom is cooking dinner for everyone.”

“Celeste?” Lindsay’s nostrils flared as she snatched a sleeve of plain crackers from the cupboard. “Talia invited that inbred skank?”

“Zack is gonna be there too.”

“Fuck Zack!” Lindsay let her guard down with her best friend, not concerned with putting up a false façade or trying to sound ladylike. “That snot-nosed prick can go to Hell for all I care!” She felt the need to fan herself. “He’s another reason why I wanted out of Citronelle.”

Evie struggled to hold back her laughter. “Zack has been asking about you too. He said he talked to you the other day on the phone and you were very rude to him. Also says he's going to find you in Vegas and win you back.”

“Good fuckin' luck!”

Lindsay dated Zack off-and-on throughout high school and to say they had a unique relationship would be an understatement. Zack wasn't the best or most thoughtful boyfriend. He was the quintessential, arrogant class jock and put himself and his needs way ahead of Lindsay's. He was the top dog at Citronelle High and Lindsay was his armpiece – his little sex puppet.

No matter how many times Zack frustrated and angered her, and she swore she'd never date him again, Lindsay would invariably wind up getting fucked by him later that afternoon or evening in the back seat of his car. Or in the auditorium after the school day ended. Or sometimes in the desert flatbed behind his house.

Or some other, random place.

Having sex and receiving its pleasures was in Lindsay's nature and, the sad truth was, she had no one else to choose from in that little hole-in-the-wall town. I'm a nympho and think these nine days at the brothel has proven it. Her first boyfriend, Dustin Gadberry, caught her making out with Zack after school one day and instantly cut all ties, ending their relationship.

It had to be Zack, unfortunately. Dustin refused to have anything to do with me after he caught me cheating on him. Really, what harm was there in sucking a little dick at the pool party that night? I mean, seriously? Come on, Dustin. It’s not like we were married. Who else was she going to curb her sex addiction with? Donald Stanlick? Ewwwww, gross … the indignities. Lindsay could never look past Donald’s pocket protectors and the way he slobbered all over the place during lunch hour. Disgusting!

Lindsay's submissive tendencies were fostered and developed during the three years she spent dating Zack. Hate to admit it, but he used to make me lose my mind every time we had sex. Zack wanted to control her and make her his own, but unlike Sammy, do it in a bad way. Zack could’ve cared less about me unless I was sucking his cock or taking it doggy style in the backseat of his Mustang.

With the guys she sees now, they’re a lot older and more mature – a lot sexier, too – and with Sammy, specifically, Lindsay believed he cared about her and would never harm her. Darius and Tony would provide and take care of me, too, if given the opportunity. It feels awesome to finally be around adults who are just as mature as I am. Lindsay wanted Sammy to make her his submissive pet, but unlike Zack, she trusted he would have her best interests in mind. Sammy was dominant and demanding with me last Tuesday night but was a cuddlebug afterward and gave me the best massage I've ever received.

Would Zack ever do that? Oh, hell no. Zack wanted constant massages and foot rubs, but never returned the favor with something sweet of his own. Fuck him!

“I’d like to branch out and ditch Citronelle too,” Evie said later in the telephone discussion. “I had a job interview yesterday at a movie theater in Palm Springs.”

“Yeah? How’d that go?” Lindsay had since returned to her bedroom and was enjoying her afternoon snack.

“I think it went well. No idea if I got the job yet, but they promised to call back in a few days and let me know. It will be a long commute each day, but worth it, I think. It was my first real interview, too. I was so nervous.”

“I can understand that.” Lindsay exhaled again and blew the strands of blonde hair across her forehead skyward. “I had to go through an interview before getting hired here as well. It was gruesome. Scariest thirty minutes of my life.”

“Clancy and I went to the arcade yesterday in Palm Springs, too, and won Paul and Norman, these two super cute stuffed teddy bears. Clancy said I hit the jackpot. I reached the five-hundred-point mark on the whac-a-mole thing and he suggested instead of getting a job at the movie theater, I should become a professional whacker.”

Lindsay burst into hysterics. “Trust me, it pays well!”

“We ended our trip to Palm Springs by getting ice cream at this joint called … Scoops ‘o Joy.”

“I’ve heard of that place.”

“It was so good because it has a bunch of different ice cream flavors, and then you can add any kind of cereal mixed in with the ice cream, and they like, really like, blend it up together so it wasn’t just like big chunks of cereal. It’s blended into the ice cream, and it was so good. So many toppings and everything … it was so good. Best ice cream I’ve ever had, bar none.”

“Sounds tempting,” Lindsay said. “I’ll have to try it next time I’m in town.”

“So, you meet up with guys and … have sex with them?” Evie sounded incredulous. This was a profession she knew very little, if anything, about. “C’mon, tell me more about what you do. Spill the tea.”

“Yeah. That's what generally happens in whorehouses, you know.” I prefer the word brothel, but think it's best I be brutally honest and to the point. Why sugarcoat it? This is the only way I'll get Evie to understand. “Clients pay money and the in-house prostitutes – we, us – fuck them.”

Another long stretch of silence prevailed on the line – Evie is probably trying to wrap her head around all of this, Lindsay thought – so she decided to add, “I've had sex with eight guys over the past eight days.”

“Eight guys? Wowwwww.” To her credit, Evie managed to keep her voice under control so family members wouldn't hear her. “You've only had sex with Zack and Dustin before … this!

“Yeah, eight guys.” And three women, too – Pamela, Kenzie, and Becky. Lindsay wanted to admit that to Evie as well, but wasn’t brave enough yet. I’ve had a crush on Evie for as long as I can remember, and she’s one of the big reasons why I’m so attracted to girls to begin with. Perhaps one day, Lindsay could finally reveal her feelings to Evie. I’m in love with her and always have been. “I was with three guys this past Saturday alone.”

“Wow.” Evie was, in a word, flabbergasted. “Eight guys over eight days? And three in the same day? I can't believe you, girl. That's freakin' insane.”

“I like it. I've met some interesting people too.” I fucked a black guy. Lindsay also debated whether she should tell Evie that. Probably not yet. And Sammy? Hmm, I’d love to share you with Sammy in a threesome, sweet thing. Talk about huge dicks and how you’ve always wanted one!

“So … guys … your customers, aren’t there all the time, right? What do you do … in your downtime?”

“Normal stuff, really. First thing I did this morning was turn on some Gossip Girl and clean my room. It’s kind of like, raining outside, it’s cloudy, so I’ve taken it easy for the most part today, I’ve relaxed. No clients for me yet.”

“But one could show up at any time, right?”

“Yep.”

“That’s crazy. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Oh, dude. You have no idea. It’s taken some getting used to, that’s for sure.” Lindsay laughed gently and imagined Evie lounging in her bedroom. She’s so sexy when she’s barefoot and chill. I’d love to give her a massage and lick every square inch of her body. “Hey, you enjoy sex as much as I do, right? Look at how many times you’ve done the nasty with Clancy over the years.” I wish I could’ve joined in so he and I could tag-team you. “I think you’d enjoy working here too.”

“No! No way! Lindsay, don't say that!”

“All right, all right, I won't. I'm sorry.” Lindsay was giggling. “Didn't mean to tease you like that.”

“This is super crazy. And don't worry about me telling your family or anyone else who knows you here in Citronelle either. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Again, thanks. And thank you for being my sounding board.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been my sounding board a million times in the past.”

“I've netted four thousand bucks here over the past eight days. Nine days, really. That’s money I keep … take-home pay. Before taxes and fees, at least. And I still got two weeks to go before my first week-long break. My goal is to have a gross of twelve thousand on my first paycheck.”

“Wait! What? Hold up a second! Slow down.” On her end of the discussion, Evie's jaw was dangling open, and her tone had dropped several octaves. “Did you say twelve thousand? As in … dollars?” She choked on her own words. “Holy shit!

“I’m buying a car with my first paycheck!”

 

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Topic: I'm so sorry

Private Message to: Pamela_HER

From: ChazWazzle

I'm so sorry

Sent: July 25, 2018, 9:12pm EST

Dearest Pamela,

First off, thank you for responding.

>>> It's been difficult to keep up with your endless barrage of messages, Charlie, and it's never a good idea to call Colt (AKA my boss) and vent your frustrations about me to him. There was no need for you to involve him. Please don't do that ever again.

I sincerely apologize for making that phone call. Perhaps I overreacted to your silence after you e-mailed three days ago? I'm a big fuck up, Pamela. I’ve been one my entire life and will never change. Maybe now you understand why I'm alone.

I promise not to bombard you with messages anymore. Nor will I contact Colt again. At the time, I thought it was the only way to break through to you.

>>> Life is a process. There are several things I’m doing to make life better for me and my family.

That’s great! I’ve been worried about you and hope things work out for the best. I really, really do.

>>> I receive countless messages from both potential and recurring clients here on the website every single day and always do my best to respond to everyone. But sometimes, it may take a day or two. Or three. Or more. The brothel keeps me busy and I have plenty of outside interests too.

Remember when I told you I got angry at my niece because she didn't call and thank me for the flowers I sent to her? Same thing applies here. I didn't get angry at you, per se, but overreacted when I didn't hear from you. I sent you that long, straight from the heart apology for the offer I made, and haven't heard from you since. Not until today, at least.

I felt guilty after sending you the original message where I asked you to come to Detroit and visit me. I felt like an idiot. I knew there was no way you'd agree to it and I'm fine with that. I shouldn't have even considered it a possibility in the first place.

>>> I like you a lot, Charlie; you're a nice guy with a massive heart. But I'm cool if you decide to move on and see someone else at the house, or even another house. It is your decision and I won't be upset or take offense.

Pamela, I don't want to see anyone but you. You could throw five of the most stunning courtesans in the world at me, tell me I could be with them for however long I want, for free, and I'd still want to be with you and pay whatever price. I felt such a genuine connection with you, and know I'll never have that with another working lady.

Yes, I've pulled back my feelings, but you have no idea how special you are to me. Those two days with you were the happiest two days of my life, beyond a shadow of a doubt. My sister asked me, why did you spend $17,000 on this girl? I said Pamela makes me happy and she’s priceless. That’s the God's honest truth. For once in my life, I knew what happiness felt like.

And for a couple of days, I thought I'd lost you. Twice. The never-ending influx of messages? I panicked. I'm so sorry. I cannot say that enough.

I'm not blaming you for your silence. I'm blaming myself.

I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me, either, but I was close to crying with Colt on the phone about you yesterday. I'm being honest. I'm big on honesty. You've been better to me than anyone I've ever known, and at first, I thought I'd pushed you away. It wasn't the fact I may never see you again, talk to you again, whatever. The most upsetting thing was the fear I pushed you away and somehow upset you, scared you. It tore me up inside.

Listen to me. The ramblings of a thirty-six-year-old man who lives alone with his two cats. I hope I don't sound pathetic to you.

>>> Girls like Scarlett and I (and the rest of us at Happy Ending Ranch) are here to make you smile, and we’re always willing to see you and make your day full of sunshine kisses. It's what we're here for.

Including Scarlett in our party was a mistake, and I regret it. Please don't tell her I said that. I don't want to hurt her feelings. But if I could go back in time and change anything about our parties, I would've focused strictly on you. A threesome was a good idea at the time, I guess, but Scarlett turned out to be needless filler. There was zero connection between her and me, and I got the sense after leaving and thinking things over she was bored and simply tolerated me.

I never had that sense about you. I now realize this is your job and you make every guy you see feel like a million dollars, but I don't care about that. I'm not thinking about that. I'm thankful to have met you and, no matter if I paid you or not, you gave me the greatest happiness I've ever experienced. Priceless, Pamela. That happiness is priceless and worth any amount of money.

Can we forget everything that happened after I left the ranch last Wednesday? You told me I was your second favorite client behind Lazerblade from the forums and I left on such a high note. I want us to pick up and go from there. I want you happy while we're together. I know we'll never be together for real now, but I at least want to be your favorite customer. I'll never ask or hope for anything to happen between us outside the house again.

I promise.

I need to respect the fact you’re busy and cannot write me back all the time too. Again, same idea with my niece and the flowers. My sister scolded me for expecting an immediate call back. She said the same thing could apply with you, too, and maybe I blew everything out of proportion.

Pamela, I'm sorry for everything. Please, believe me.

I'll be flying into Vegas for my next vacation on Sunday, September 23, and landing before midnight. I'll drive straight to Flagstone and would like to stop and visit with you at the ranch for a few minutes before closing time. In the morning, on the 24th, I want to see you at 10:00 and will purchase eight to ten hours of GFE time. I'd like to buy you lunch and do all the things we did last week … and more.

I hope that isn't too early for you. If it is, let me know, and I'll push the time back. Remember, I'm on East Coast time and 10:00 will be 1:00 to me.

Can you be there for me on September 24? Pretty please with icing on top? Depending on finances, I'd like to see you another day or two as well. I'll have to see where I'm at money wise.

I know I've changed my plans a couple of times, but I'm certain now with the 24th. I'll let you know about any additional dates should I be able to afford them. I'm not looking for an hour or two; I want all-day experiences. Anything less is unacceptable in my eyes.

I am so happy you wrote me back. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise to relax and take it easy from now on. I want everything to be positive and for us to enjoy each other.

Love always, Charlie

 

* * *

 

“Sweetie, are you okay? You look … pale.”

Pamela McCarron's sluggish, watery eyes shifted from the laptop and focused on her husband, who was standing outside the doorway to the adjoining washroom. Colt was bare-chested and wearing a pair of black sweatpants that hung precariously low on his slim waistline. In the darkened bedroom, Pamela still noticed the muscles and cuts of his broad chest. She took a moment to admire the scintillating image before clearing her throat and calmly answering, “I'm fine. Just got an e-mail from Charlie is all.”

“Oh? What does Romeo have to say now?” Colt, his head tilted, ran a towel through his freshly washed hair and strolled over to the king-sized bed that Pamela was relegated to. The forty-four-year-old cozied close and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “All good?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Dark eyes, a jaw chiseled and layered with his trademarked five o'clock shadow, a woodsy, masculine scent … exactly the way Pamela preferred him. Not to mention, of course, Colt’s wet, tousled hair.

Sexy.

“Yeah, all good.” Pamela closed her eyes and nestled her chin into the crook of Colt's collarbone, yet again relying on the peace and security that only his presence could provide. Pamela hadn’t led the purist of lives and there were several things she wished she could take back and do over again herself, but one thing was for certain: I know I’m safe and cared for whenever Colt is with me.

“You have a good shower, baby?”

“Lonely shower.”

She bit her lip. “I wanted to join you.”

He traced his fingers down her side. “Then why didn’t you?”

Colt’s amazing, tender touch was a reminder for Pamela that, at least for the time being, she wasn't at the brothel. “Because I can barely walk.” There were no customers to compete for and, if she was chosen, overexert herself to satisfy. I've had enough of that this past week. No possibility of being jarred awake from a much-needed nap because of the obnoxious sound of the lineup buzzer. I won't be selling another piece of my decency tonight, thank God. No having to deal with in-house drama and the cattiness of certain other working ladies. I still can't believe Aaliyah got angry at Lindsay and quit the house.

No, Pamela was 2,500 miles away and in her hometown of Fairfax, Maryland, and wouldn’t return to Nevada for a minimum of two weeks. This is my safe haven and the best place for me right now. She was glad Colt asked her to step away from their professional personas in Flagstone and travel to the East Coast, where they’d be close to friends and family alike. There’s no need to be at the ranch with the shape my back is in now anyway. Best of all, it would provide a welcome change of pace, a chance for Pamela to be a normal person, breathe, and contemplate the future and her options. Something that rarely happened anymore.

Fairfax encompassed the western shore of Hawk Cove and was a stone’s throw from Rocky Point Park. A blend of residential, professional, and recreational development, Fairfax had evolved over the decades from a summer beachside destination to a year-round community which offered refuge from the big city lights of Baltimore. With all the benefits of “in town” urban living, the neighborhood maintained its “small town” feel. Downtown woke up with early morning exercise classes and sidewalk cafes stayed busy late into the night.

Pamela and Colt took a nonstop flight from Las Vegas yesterday afternoon and landed at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in Arlington, Virginia, just before midnight. They ordered an Uber and arrived some twenty-five miles north in Fairfax after one o’clock.

It was the first time they had been home in nearly two months.

The long cross-country journey posed its share of challenges as Pamela’s back flared up midway through and she was in varying amounts of discomfort the rest of the way. At one point, Colt lifted the armrest between their first-class seats and lovingly cradled her across his lap. She protested at first, feeling silly, but relented. Colt queued up some chillstep on his phone and popped one earbud into her ear and the other in his own.

“Close your eyes and rest, sweetheart.” His voice was a whisper as his hand kneaded Pamela’s lower spine. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Later, her back locked up completely, and she couldn’t walk, so Colt pushed her through the airport in a wheelchair. Tears of frustration gave way to anger, and Pamela snapped at him in the terminal for no reason. Knowing moments like this would occur during her recovery, Colt took the outburst in stride, showing no reaction to it, and then held her hand and kissed it during their Uber ride home. “I love you. We’re going to make it through this.”

Pamela grew up and attended school in Fairfax, and her parents still lived there today. She and Colt enjoyed dinner at the Prescott household earlier tonight and were joined by her two sisters – Paula and Candice – and several other family members as well, including her grandparents.

Compelled to fib, Pamela told her loved ones she injured her back during a hiking expedition at Mount Charleston. She came home to Maryland to get evaluated by Dr. Pietz, the physician she trusted most, but hoped to return to Nevada in mid-August with a clean bill of health. Pamela had no plans to tell any family member she was a prostitute and suffered the spinal fracture with a random john.

“Charlie wants an eight- or ten-hour party with me again at the end of September. Perhaps two or three long parties over several days, I don’t know.” She blew out a breath that seemed resigned. “Says he has to look at his money first.”

Colt’s right eye twitched, and his brows furrowed. “Are you going to party with him again?”

Holding a cup of apple cider juice between both hands, she took a swig. “My back permitting, yeah, I am. Heck, yeah.” How could Pamela pass up, at the bare minimum, a $4,800 party? Hopefully, this orthopedist Dr. Pietz wants me to see later in the week puts me on the road to recovery and I’m healthy enough to party with Charlie in two months. “I cannot stand the thought of anyone feeling lonely.” She emptied the glass and plonked it down onto the nightstand. “Yeah, yeah, I know; Charlie went way overboard with the e-mail he sent last week, but the man is harmless. Totally harmless.”

“I know you won’t commit to seeing Charlie again until you receive the go-ahead from the surgeon,” Colt said, “but perhaps it would be smarter to aim for one- to two-hour parties spread over several days instead of an all-nighter … should you be medically cleared.” He grasped her hands and kissed them one at a time. “Overdoing it is what got you in this predicament to begin with.”

Pamela shook her head a little, staring off into the distance before instead saying, “I don't understand Scarlett and her insistence I shut Charlie out and never party with him again. That may wreck his life. I mean, Charlie just spent all that money and lost his virginity. I try to make things extra special for older virgins. It would destroy him if I refused to see him again. That would be such a cruel thing to do. Cruel and … short-sided.” Pamela speared a cherry tomato from the nightstand and shoved it into her mouth. “He did nothing wrong except let his emotions bubble over and get the best of him.”

“You know that telephone call from Charlie was surreal before leaving Flagstone yesterday.” Frustration bubbled at Colt’s face. “A grown man, all upset and crying, some two thousand miles away, rambling on and on about how he thought he’d hurt you and you never wanted to see him again. Guy was going on about my wife and all I could do was sit there and listen to him.”

“Thank you for not getting angry and ripping into him, telling him off, or saying I’m injured and may never work again.” Pamela stroked two fingers from Colt’s face down to his shoulders and chest. “I’m sorry Charlie contacted you like that. Trust me, it’ll never happen again. I’m going to reiterate that to him in my next message either tonight or tomorrow morning. He can’t involve you again.” Suddenly Pamela was frowning so hard that Colt was forced to reach out and smooth his thumb between her eyebrows. “I know that discussion was incredibly awkward for you.”

“It was a first, that’s for sure.” Colt scrubbed his face with his other hand. “Another man gushing on and crying to me about my wife because, down deep, all he really wants is to see you and have sex with you again. My wife … awkward, yeah. I thought I'd seen it all in this business, but apparently, I haven't.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Colt pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You have nothing be sorry about. Not your fault.”

“You’ve put up with a lot of shit over the years because of me.” Pamela splayed her hands across the muscles of his abdomen. “From customers, I mean. It isn’t fair to you.”

“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Relax. Don’t worry about it.” Colt guided her right hand to his chest and held it, and began massaging each of her fingers, her palm, her wrist. “It’s part of the job. Some of these guys fall for girls like you when, in reality, you’re all some of the most unavailable people on the planet. But they don’t know that … they’re unaware.”

“You know something?” Pamela gazed up at Colt. “A lot of times, I struggle in the parties I have, both physically and mentally, especially as I’m getting older. But I always think about and focus on the immediate future, which is seeing you, once the party ends. You, me, together again. You always give me a big hug when the monger leaves, ask if I’m okay, if I need anything. You’re so attentive. That’s very sweet, and it’s appreciated.” She sighed and trailed the back of her hand along his chest. “Just the thought of seeing you again helps get me through every single party.”

“You’re not alone. I can’t wait for each party to end either. I’m always looking at the stopwatch, counting down the minutes until I see you again.” Even in this heartfelt exchange, every fiber in Colt’s being was aching to be closer to Pamela, to hold her hand, embrace her, kiss her, even be inside her. Would those urges ever fade away? Colt couldn’t imagine a reality where they would.

“I love the way you’ve always supported me.” Pamela leaned upward and kissed Colt flush on the lips. “You’re a … unique man, I’d say, to have stood by me all these years and let me do … what it is I do.”

“It’s just business.”

She nodded and exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Thank you.”

Although he wanted to lift the nightshirt from Pamela’s body and get rid of it, slip his arms around her waist and up her back, and feel the warmth of her flesh against his, Colt resisted. “You should lay down and rest.” Mind you, he didn’t want to resist. Colt wanted to bathe and luxuriate in Pamela’s feminine charms. God, he wanted that. It had been too long since he had the opportunity. But, as usual, those damn alarm bells in his head won out. “Dr. Pietz wants you to take it easy the rest of the week.”

Pamela’s smile dimmed. “I did overdo it a bit earlier at Mom and Dad’s, I think.” She lay back on the mattress and settled her head into the pillow, again relegating herself to the so-called prison she’d have to endure over the next four or five days. “I wonder what’s going on at the brothel right now.” Pamela paused and held back a laugh. “Remember when I was younger, when we’d have our time away from the house, our week off each month, I’d always insist you’re crazy to worry about the house the way you did. You’d always be on the phone with Jim talking shop, but here I am, being older now, and I’m equally worried about the house and how it’s doing without us being there.” Pamela’s lips pursed. “I feel your pain.”

“That house is our livelihood. It’s why I worry so much. It took some time, yes, but you finally realized that.”

Pamela grinned. “Maturity, right? But I still have no idea how you keep everything on the up-and-up.”

“I have great helpers. Jim, Mindy, Jenn … you.” Colt nudged alongside Pamela on the bed and played with the back of her hair, their faces a whisper apart. “I got a text from Jim while we were with your folks earlier. Hmm, your eyes are so pretty. Looks like Aaliyah is going to apply at Chastity’s Ranch, and they’re interested in hiring her.”

Pamela made a face. “Aaliyah? Good for her.”

Like most owners of middle-of-nowhere, rural brothels similar to theirs, Colt and Pamela despised everything about Chastity’s Ranch, particularly its management. Throughout LPIN, Chastity’s Ranch was thought of as The Evil Empire, the largest and most successful brothel in the state, generating close to half a million dollars in sales per week thanks to its proximity to Las Vegas and all the free-spending tourists who came through.

Chastity’s wasn’t a house, per se; rather, a large, sprawling resort with a full-service bar and restaurant, slot and poker machines, an 18-hole golf course, and separate lodging. It featured fifteen to twenty working ladies available round the clock and the going rate for a GFE generally started at $3,000 an hour. Themed areas for specialty parties included a locker room, a classroom, a doctor’s office, the man cave, an S&M dungeon with painful implements and cages, the sissy’s room, and various others. The grounds were immaculate, clean and sparkling, and everything was kept in tiptop condition.

But what small-time brothel owners hated most about Chasity’s was its cutthroat business practices. Management had no pity, often poaching top earners from the rural houses with promises of more income and better living conditions. They told lies and spread false rumors and strived to put the little guy out of business. If it were up to them, Chastity’s would forge an effective monopoly, a stranglehold, over LPIN, and be the only option available.

Then they would jack their prices up even higher.

“Aaliyah had no right to curse and mouth off to Lindsay the way she did the other day,” Pamela added. “That poor girl has been through so much over the past week and didn’t deserve to be spoken to in such a hateful manner. I … I’m glad Aaliyah and her bad attitude is gone.”

Colt offered a single-shouldered shrug. “Everyone deserves to be treated with respect and dignity, Kayleigh included. Can’t argue with you there.”

Even in a weakened state, Pamela was gorgeous, only wearing Colt’s favorite dress shirt and a pair of panties. Her hair was frazzled from an earlier nap in the car and she sported little makeup. Colt attached his lips to hers and reveled in her sweet kiss, his gaze sneaking down and admiring the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric.

“I’m going to miss Lindsay while we’re here in Maryland. I should call her and touch base tonight.”

Colt pulled back and his eyes changed, almost like a different person had taken over inside of him. The ensuing confusion on Pamela’s face only pissed him off more.

“What’s wrong?” she said as Colt shoved away from the bed and paced. “What did I say?” Her back may have been sore, but dammit, Pamela could still screech with the best of them. “Why are you so against Lindsay, Colt?” Her ire rose. “What did she do to make you hate her so much?”

 

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“There must be something I can do to help.” Jim Mayer leaned over Kenzie's shoulder and swiped a piece of broccoli from the salad she was mixing and popped it into his mouth. “Hmm, tasty.”

Kenzie slapped his hand. “You want to help? Keep your grubby fingers out of the food!”

There wasn't any rage or animosity in Kenzie's voice, only good-natured ribbing. After all, it was too gorgeous of an evening for any negativity. Following a rainstorm that passed through earlier, the sun shone brilliantly through the kitchen window of the brothel in Flagstone. Outside, steaks, burgers, chicken breasts, and other delights cooked on Colt's wood pellet grill. Business had been nonexistent so far today, so Jim and all the ladies banded together and decided to treat themselves to a great feast. Francisco was told to relax and let the others do the cooking for a change.

With Colt and Pamela in Maryland, wasn't it okay to take a few liberties with the house's daily food budget? Jim didn't think spending a little extra for a cookout would hurt anything. It wasn’t like he did this often.

Not too often, at least.

Nicolette flipped beef patties on the grill she’d commandeered from Riley and gave pointers to Lindsay while also tending to the other culinary goodies. Nicolette was a good person and Lindsay was starting to like her since they’d been hanging out in recent days.

Sahara and Elisabeth were helping in the kitchen. Sahara was topping chocolate cupcakes with thick buttercream frosting and had an apron on which made her look like an expert chef. Elisabeth was putting the finishing touches on a batch of scallion baked beans. Kenzie had just finished dicing up apples and blending them into a salad bowl.

“I'm done.” Sahara triumphantly stepped away from the counter and admired her handiwork. “I did a bang-up job, too, if I must say so myself.”

Kenzie peered at the cupcakes and their swirled icing arranged on an expensive platter. “Looks scrumptious, Sahara. I'll definitely have to try one of them.”

“I'm finished too,” Elisabeth announced. “Once the meat is done on the grill, we should be ready to eat. I hope Nicolette doesn’t burn my vegetable stir-fry to a charred crisp like last time. That was awful.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be fine.” Riley strolled into the kitchen and placed a possessive hand on her fiancée's back. She peeked over at the salad and a sly grin overtook her features.

“Mallory Fitzsimmons!” Kenzie wagged a finger at Riley – using her real name for emphasis – as she tried to pilfer a piece of broccoli as well. “Hands out! You're just as bad as Jim!”

“Who's just as bad as Jim?” Mariko asked in her sexy, Japanese accent, as her curious gaze sought him out the instant she entered the kitchen.

“No one,” Jim answered back with a chuckle. “I'm the ultimate bad boy.”

“Yeah, right,” Elisabeth deadpanned with a silly grin. “You've always been the bad boy after dark type, Jim. A true rebel. A troublemaker.”

Mariko sighed and decided to play along. “What did you do this time?”

“Stole one itty-bitty piece of broccoli from Kenzie's salad. Nothing major.”

“And one of Sahara's chocolate cupcakes when she wasn't looking too,” Elisabeth chimed in.

“Jim, fuck! How could you?” Sahara put her hands on her hips. “I knew one of them was missing!”

He grinned at Elisabeth and shook his head. “Hey, hey, hold up. You weren't supposed to tell her that! Now, Kenzie is going to keep a close eye on me.”

Riley retrieved a bag of pretzels from the kitchen pantry, inserted three twists into a cupcake from Sahara's platter, and brought it to her lips. Elisabeth raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Riley took a bite of the pretzel-infused cupcake and closed her eyes in absolute bliss. With her mouth still full, she added, “Sweet and salty. The best of both worlds.”

Elisabeth folded both arms and regarded Riley for a split-second, then glanced over at Sahara and chuckled. “Your future wifey looks like a chipmunk hoarding acorns for her winter nest.”

“Hey!” Riley giggled in response, and a chunk of cupcake spewed from her mouth. “Whoa.”

“Happy birthday, Miss Colorado.”

“Thank you, babe,” Elisabeth responded as Nicolette sashayed in from the heat and winked.

“Cheers, miss gorgeous. Cheers.”

“Love you.”

“Yay; love you too.”

Sahara’s eyebrows squished together. “I didn't think your birthday was until tomorrow.”

“It's not,” Elisabeth said. “Nicolette wants to get the party rolling early is all. I’m not thirty until tomorrow.”

“Elisabeth was one hundred percent correct earlier in what she said about Jim.” Kenzie swiveled toward him. “You’ve always been the bad one.”

The kitchen erupted in laughter. Customers may have been scarce on this Wednesday, but the ladies were in jovial moods as they worked in tandem on preparing dinner. As the lone man amongst seven intoxicating, drop-dead gorgeous women – all in various stages of undress – Jim was like the proverbial kid in a candy store. Guilty pleasures abounded, and he could probably sample most anything he wanted, except, of course, the one precious treat he desired most:

Kenzie.

“Hey.” Mariko's tone was sympathetic as she regarded him with soft, dark eyes. “Don't let what everyone says bother you, Jimbo. You're not a bad boy to me.”

Jim went through pure hell the other evening as he sat at the bar and listened to the party Kenzie and Lindsay had with the married couple from Rhode Island, Kyle and Becky. I'm in love with Cierra but can't break out of the damn friend zone. He was relieved when Colt showed up mid-party and ordered him to go home for the night and get some rest. I was jealous of Kyle, of Becky, and shit, of Kayleigh too. He couldn’t stand the playful banter and sounds of passion from Kenzie’s lips as the other three ravished her in the orgy.

If I had one wish, it would be to marry Cierra and spend the rest of my life with her. Jim realized he wasn’t a perfect man, not by any stretch of the imagination, and had a laundry list of faults. But I'd do whatever was necessary for Cierra to be happy and make all her dreams come true.

Was there anything he could do to score a brownie point and get Kenzie to notice him? I don’t want to fuck her, per se; I’d be happy taking Cierra out to a nice restaurant and treating her to a show in Vegas. It would be a solid starting point. I simply want to be with her. She is such a genuine, good girl, and deserves the world.

Kenzie was aware of Jim’s feelings. She thought of him as a friend and cared about him immensely but claimed the thirty-year age gap was the issue she had in entering into an actual relationship with him. But Jim knew better; he knew the truth. Because of her ex-husband, Cierra is afraid to put her trust in another man and have it backfire again.

That evil sonofabitch scarred her for life.

 

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“Do your parents know what you do for a living?”

“They do. Not gonna lie, they’re a bit weird about it. It’s been a process, but they’ve come a long way.” Buxom and shapely five-foot-two brunette Nicolette was enjoying dinner across from Lindsay at a small, circular picnic table for two in the backyard. Of mixed German and Italian descent, Nicolette was a battle-tested veteran of the LPIN scene with ten years of experience as a working girl, the last eight of which were spent at Happy Ending Ranch. Away from work, she’d greased up stripper poles in the most exclusive clubs Vegas had to offer and used her killer body to satisfy her most ardent johns on the side.

“What about the rest of your family?” Lindsay asked.

“Most of them are okay with it, but certainly not everyone. I can understand why they might not want me to be in this industry.” Nicolette sipped her beverage, a smoky watermelon lemon margarita that tasted delicious, and set its glass back on the table. “But at the end of the day, I’m not the little girl anymore that they, you know, saw grow up. I’m thirty years old; I grew up, and I’m allowed to make my own decisions. I guess if they want me to be in their life, they’re just gonna have to be okay with it because I refuse to change anything about myself to suit others, even family members.”

When Nicolette noticed Lindsay eyeing her alcoholic cocktail, she smirked. “Go ahead and try it. Take a sip.”

“What? Me? No. No, I can’t.” Lindsay’s cheeks dusted pink and she backed away in her chair. “I’m not old enough to drink yet and besides, Colt said he’d fire me if he ever caught me drinking at my age or doing anything illegal.”

“Colt’s not even here, silly, and Jim isn’t gonna rat you out if you have a drink or two. The rules are way more relaxed when Colt’s away and Jim is in charge.” Nicolette laughed softly, enjoying Lindsay’s sweet, wholesome nature, her naïve innocence. Such a breath of fresh air around this place. “Go ahead, try it. There’s no harm and you’ll find that alcohol will help you deal with the rigors, the stress, of this job. I don’t know what I’d do without it. I drink a full bottle before and after every party.”

Lindsay considered taking Nicolette up on the offer, but decided against it in the end. “No, thank you. I’m good.” I don’t want to take the risk and lose my job.

“Suit yourself, no pressure.” Nicolette shrugged. “But with me, as I said, I make my own decisions, and being a sex worker is the best choice for me at this point in my life. I’m divorced and have a son I’ve devoted everything to. He’s not in the best of health, unfortunately, and medical expenses are outrageous, so outside of work I lead a mundane, minimalistic life. Everything goes to his care.”

Lindsay’s nose wrinkled. “How much longer do you think you’ll do this?”

Nicolette brought a fist to her chin in contemplation. “For me, I can’t really put an end date on it. The more I think about the life I’ve created for myself and the fact I can afford quality medical care for my son, and the more I understand how much further we have to go for sex worker rights … I think I’ve made a conscious decision that I don’t intend to leave until my son is in a better place, health wise, and until I see some of the sex worker rights improve. I don’t know how long either is gonna take. They might never happen.” She flexed her arm. “Maybe I’m gonna be a sex worker until I’m ninety! And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon.

“My hope for the sex industry is that it becomes decriminalized globally, which is a really big goal. Obviously, I’d like to start with the United States first.” Nicolette’s full cherry red lips pursed and she released a long-winded sigh. “If we could get decriminalization in every city, every state, that would be huge.

“The reason why people are so against the idea of sex work, of prostitution, is the stigma that comes along with it. Stigma sucks, and it’s rooted in ignorance. And if we want to fight for our rights as sex workers, to make things better, then we need to have decriminalization.

“If I see a john outside of work, on my own time, and something goes wrong, I should be able to go to the police without fear of getting into trouble myself. And that’s just one of the many reasons why decriminalization is the only answer for sex workers and our safety.”

Nicolette hesitated briefly, then tilted her head to the side and regarded Lindsay. “You’re considering telling your folks that you’ve taken up whoring in a brothel?”

“Maybe.” Lindsay bit her lip and glanced away momentarily. “My mom is doing a lot of snooping and I’m afraid she’s gonna find out sooner rather than later.” Lindsay’s face pinched in pain. “I think it’d be best if she found out from me, not on her own.”

“And how do you think she would react?”

Lindsay shook her head. “Not good. Not good at all.”

“Don’t tell her, then. Take your chances and hope she doesn’t find out on her own. For me, I didn’t have a choice – I had to tell my parents. During my third-ever party in the industry, back in 2008 when I was hired on at Chastity’s, I was with this guy, and he thrust so hard I ended up with a tear inside me. It was bleeding pretty bad and put me out of work for a little while, and I had to ask my parents for help with the medical expenses. I was broke, only being twenty at the time, but that’s how my mom and dad found out I’d become a sex worker. Chastity’s certainly wasn’t going to pay my medical bills.” Nicolette’s throat closed and she struggled to add, “Unfortunately, the reality of this business is that some clients treat you like you’re nothing, like an object, and you get absolutely pummeled.”

“Pamela and Kenzie have drilled it into me to always use lube. Lots of it.” Lindsay shrugged the idea of getting injured off. Being young, she felt she was invincible. “My last few parties, it’s really helped a lot.” Lindsay smiled, but then frowned because of the possibility of her parents, particularly her mother, uncovering the truth about her secret new life. Mom would go haywire and may even disown me. She gripped the edge of the picnic table as her mind went into a fog. “If I were to tell, say, my mom, the truth, how do you suggest I go about it?”

“You can explain you’re sorry you’ve disappointed her, but let the conversation end there. That’s what I did, at least at first.” Nicolette’s shoulders loosened. “This is my job, Mom, and I’m sorry you don’t approve, but I enjoy what I do, and the money is great. I’m not sniffing cocaine at the house or breaking any other laws there. I didn’t tell you initially because I knew you wouldn’t approve, and I hope you’ll respect my decision not to talk about it.” Nicolette’s gaze was soft, full of understanding. “You’re an adult now, Kayleigh, and if you want to tell them, the best thing you can do is ask your mom, your dad, to accept your decisions or keep their opinions to themselves. It’s that simple.”

Lindsay’s lower lip quivered. “That’s the problem. They wouldn’t. Mom would go ballistic.”

“What you’re doing is not wrong. You’re happy here, right? You’re making a good living. You have friends like Pamela, Kenzie, me, who care about you and want to help you succeed. It is not wrong … but there is a stigma, that nasty word again.  And in this case, that stigma is prostitutes come from bad situations and terrible parents, they have daddy issues, mommy issues, et cetera, et cetera.

“You should try to see it from your mom and dad’s point of view. Consider their feelings. Although it’s off base, your parents would probably think … what did we do wrong? As a parent, and I’m one myself, you feel responsible for who your children are and who they ultimately become, including occupation. You said your parents are religious, right? Your whole family? I bet it’s ingrained in them that being a prostitute is a terrible thing and it’s hard to overcome that mindset … that stigma.

“If they press you about it, and you give in, your job will be to tell them that, number one, you’re okay, and no one forced you into this. This was your decision. Two, this isn’t long-term. Three, you’re happy and this job is enabling you to branch out, possibly travel, and allow you to do things you never could working elsewhere. Best of all, tell them you’re saving for a college education.” Nicolette leaned back and shook her head. “Kayleigh, you need to realize that this isn’t your problem. It’s your parents’ problem. They need to find a way to get over it and realize you shouldn’t have to live your life entirely by their standards anymore, their thoughts and beliefs.

“Stand firm and proud; do what makes you happy and refuse to be ashamed of it.”

Nicolette is right. I am happy working here. I get to get naked and have all the attention I want. Life is good.

“I’m sure your mother and father love you. You’ve told me they’re good people and gave you the best upbringing they could. Because they love you and because you’re steadfast about your career, your choices, and how it’s a positive thing, and you love them, too, they’ll eventually get over it. Time heals all wounds. A lot easier said than done, I admit, but everything will be okay in the end.”

 

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Elisabeth made some adjustments to the neckline of her red minidress to achieve maximum cleavage effect, trailed both hands down her torso, past her hips, and finally stopped at the slit that ran up her left leg. She grazed her fingertips across the exposed, toned flesh there and performed yet another self-inspection with the aid of the large, floor-to-ceiling mirror in her bedroom.

The young woman inhaled through her nostrils and exhaled via her mouth to quell the nervous anxiety within. Oh, jeeze. Back to the grind again. My first time doing this in six weeks. The reality of the moment and what was about to happen struck her. As a result, there was no holding back the frown that befell her pristine, flawless face.

You should take Nicolette’s advice and divorce that lazy, deadbeat husband of yours. Drop him, maybe move in with her instead and start a new life. Elisabeth’s marriage with Robert was going through a turbulent patch and it was no secret around the house. He didn’t approve of the so-called “side hustle” she had taken up in Nevada. Maybe if Robert got off his ass and got a job, a real job, I wouldn’t be reduced to whoring to make ends meet. The fact that she’d opted to spend her thirtieth birthday working at the house instead of being back in Colorado with Robert raised a few eyebrows too. Riley says Robert doesn’t deserve me … that I should just cut bait and never go home.

Nicolette having a massive crush on Elisabeth was common knowledge too. Nicolette is in love with me and says I’m the only reason she’s still working here and didn’t go back to Chastity’s Ranch. Although Elisabeth had never been in a bona fide relationship with another woman, she was wildly attracted to them. I think I’m pansexual like Pamela; this job has made me so. And Elisabeth knew that Nicolette would treat her better than Robert ever could. Do I have the guts to dump my husband for another woman?

Knowing she couldn’t keep her client waiting much longer, Elisabeth spritzed some perfume behind her ears and exited the bedroom. With each click of her stiletto high heels upon the hardwood floor as she approached the parlor area, wrought with nervousness, the frown across Elisabeth’s lips became more pronounced. Her palms were clammy and her chest trembled to the point of discomfort. If Nicolette were willing to devote herself exclusively to me, I’d run off and go anywhere in the world with her. I’m tired of subjecting myself to all the shit I have to go through.

“Noah … hi there! It’s good to see you again! I’m so glad you took me up on my offer.” Despite those negative feelings, Elisabeth flipped the proverbial switch within herself the instant she went through the curtain and saw a lone customer seated on the other side of the bar. Cheerful and full of smiles – just like that – Elisabeth went around the corner, closed the distance between them, and grasped the gentleman’s hands for an affectionate greeting.

Noah would be an interesting trick to be with because Elisabeth met him Monday morning on, of all places, her flight from Denver to Las Vegas. They sat side-by-side in the economy section. This clown was all over me and kept flirting until I told him I’m a prostitute, and since he clearly wants to fuck me, that he should come party with me up in Flagstone. Though that admission stunned Noah and kept him mostly silent for the remainder of the flight, he did ask where Flagstone was and how long it would take to drive there before they went their separate ways in the terminal.

“Whoa. Elisabeth … it’s you.”

“In the flesh!”

“Holy hell. You look incredible in that dress.”

Elisabeth titled her head, her face lighting up as she spoke. “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.”

A hearty laugh broke from Noah’s chest. In the background, Jim, needing to oversee the discussion, like usual, was scrubbing the countertop with disinfectant spray and a dish rag.

Elisabeth anchored her gaze on Noah. “So where in Colorado are you from?”

“Breckenridge.”

She did a double take. “Oh.” That’s not too far from where I live myself.

“I’m out here on business right now.”

“So, let me put two and two together from the talk we had on the plane ride.” Her voice softened. “You’re just overwhelmed with work and you’d like a night of fun.”

“Something like that.” Noah unfastened the top button of his polo shirt and rubbed at the back of his neck. Elisabeth was straight out of his dreams, a stunning blonde with the face of an angel and a body built for sin. “I, uhh … yeah, something like that.” His eyes squinted and his expression was conflicted. “I … I’m married. I don’t know if you deal with a lot of married guys.”

Elisabeth shrugged nonchalantly. “Hmm, here and there.”

“But, uhh … this is my first – I’m sure you hear people say this a lot – this is honestly my first time since we got married doing … being with another woman.”

“Wow, a brothel virgin.” Elisabeth licked her lips. “And how long have you been married?”

“Eight years.”

Her lashes shot up. “That’s a long time.”

“It is.” He winced and bowed his head.

“So, I’m guessing around this point, maybe, things are kind of slowing down a little bit sexually, you know.”

He managed to make eye contact for a split-second. “A lot.”

“It tends to happen.” She patted his leg in comfort.

“I mean, it’s just you wanna be with somebody else, but you don’t … you don’t want to act on it. But then … gosh.” A sigh escaped his lips. “It’s just … Lily is so boring. She doesn’t ever want to do anything, she’s tired, she’s … it’s just, she doesn’t want to experiment, have any fun. She’s not being … yeah, it’s just, I don’t want to bother you with it, but it’s …”

“I’m not bothered at all.” Elisabeth’s lips parted into an easy grin. “Talk to me.”

“I just get to a point watching videos – porn – and seeing things I’d like, but don’t have the opportunity …”

“You want to try them out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’d definitely like to try some new things. I love your pics on the brothel’s website, by the way.”

“Oh yeah?” Elisabeth’s eyelids fluttered. “What did you think of them?”

“I think … they’re fucking incredible. Yeah, so I, uhh, I’ve had some money set aside for a while that my wife doesn’t know about and decided after landing in Vegas and meeting you, talking to you and you telling me that you worked here, to just kind of … go for it.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

“I think you’re … well, she’s never gonna find out.”

“Hmm.” Elisabeth’s voice turned philosophical. “So, I’m guessing your wife … she probably doesn’t, like, maybe suck your dick anymore. Or, you know …”

“No, it’s not maybe; it’s been a long time since she’s done that. A long, long time. Too long.”

“Yeah. I hear that a lot.” Her lips curled into a subtle frown. “And I’m guessing, probably, missionary only.”

“Uhh, yeah. Missionary like once a week. So, maybe.”

“Oh, man. Hey, once a week isn’t bad.” She laughed. “It could be worse.”

“It could. You’re very … very attractive.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know. I saw you on the plane and I just …” He brushed his hand across her cheek. “You’re so beautiful … the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, period.”

Yeah, I got him hooked. Elisabeth knew she could inflate her normal hourly rate for a GFE too. No doubt, he’ll pay whatever price I ask to fuck me. “So, I’m curious to see … what you want to do with me.”

“I’d like for … for you to, umm, start out more aggressive – sexual – which is what I’m wanting, what I lack, is somebody really who, umm …”

“Takes control?” Elisabeth interjected.

“Takes control, yes, at least in the beginning.”

“Yeah, I’ll get you all loosened up, no worries.” Elisabeth reached over and slid a trio of fingers along the bulge in Noah’s cargo shorts. “Ready to have some fun, do something different?” When the bewildered man went in for a kiss, Elisabeth stopped him by holding a finger between their lips. Her voice was sweet, sensual. “So why don’t you and I go back to my bedroom, discuss all the juicy details, the economics, so we can get started?” She motioned toward Jim with her head. “We’ll have all the privacy in the world back there.”

“Yeah, yeah … I’d like that.”

 

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All Sammy could figure was that he dozed off fast on Wednesday evening because the next thing he knew, there were a pair of soft, delicious lips touching his, and he was lulled from a deep, peaceful slumber. At first, he thought it was Barbara – she was his wife of thirty-nine years, after all – but soon realized it wasn't.

“Hey, you.” Lindsay's voice was a whisper as she smiled just inches from Sammy's face. Wearing her so-called hooker garb, Lindsay glided over top of him and placed a gentle, soothing kiss upon his mouth. The warmth of Lindsay's body, the softness of her skin, and the sweet, tangy taste of her lips made his insides glow with affection and a fierce desire.

“Hey, yourself.” Sammy looked all around and took in the familiar surroundings of his bedroom in Briar Bluff, Utah, but also noticed Barbara was nestled close and sleeping right beside him too. What? How is Lindsay in my home? I can't have Barbara see her! She'd flip out and go into a full-scale riot.

Sammy tried to sit up and do something to remedy the situation, but Lindsay placed a hand on his shoulder and eased him back to the mattress. “Settle down, will you?” She flashed a bright, glittering smile. “Everything is fine.” Lindsay regarded Barbara for a moment. “She won't be waking up anytime soon. Trust me, okay?”

A tranquil calm seemed to overcome Sammy all at once and, though it made no sense, he nodded in compliance. I do trust you, babygirl.

“Did you get a good night's rest?”

Lindsay's tiny, manicured hand was moving in slow, tempting circles along Sammy's bare chest and he had a difficult time concentrating on anything other than the growing ache between his legs. “Yes, I did.”

Her blonde hair styled to perfection and her eyes as blue as the ocean, Lindsay was the sexiest woman Sammy had ever seen. There was no doubt. Blonde. Petite. Captivating. She had it all. A thin shade of moonlight serenaded the bedroom and gave her face a radiant glow.

Her hand stopped moving and Sammy felt immediate disappointment.

“I'm hungry.” Lindsay pouted and her voice was barely audible as she shuffled about and settled into a seated position next to him. Barbara was nuzzled against his opposite side. The fifty-eight-year-old's eyes widened as Lindsay soon reached behind her back and a produced a long, wooden paddle that was tailor-made for spanking.

Lindsay didn't want to play so early in the morning, did she? It wasn't even four o'clock yet! Sammy recalled giving her a monumental fucking last night and he still felt drained from it. She was becoming more and more submissive by the minute and enjoyed being treated like a ping-pong ball in an arcade machine. She not only preferred rough and physical sex, but Lindsay was at the point where she expected it from Sammy.

“What are you doing?” He glanced at the paddle as Barbara rustled but continued sleeping. “Darlin’, we can't do that. Not with my wife right …”

“But Daddy!” Lindsay let out a wild, high-pitched screech and those two words – and the tone in which they were used – hit him like a ton of bricks. “Don't you remember last night? We had a deal, didn't we?”

Sammy's mind, in its current, sleepy daze, tried to piece the jigsaw puzzle together. It failed.

“Remember you finally permitted me to orgasm? We had a deal. You were only allowing me to orgasm on the condition that I come and suck your cock off every morning for the next seven days.” She picked up the paddle, her eyes twinkling. “Else, I'd get this.”

That deal was made in the heat of the moment – the throes of wild passion. Surely, Lindsay didn't think I was serious? That I was going to uphold her to it?

Grinning, Lindsay trailed a finger up-and-down his thick, hairy chest. “I've come to pay off my debt … day one.”

“Sweetheart, Barbara is right here and sleeping. If she wakes up and finds us together, my life will …”

“Oh, hush up. Babby Babs is a heavy sleeper and you know it.” Lindsay giggled and flicked a wrist at Sammy as she peeled his boxer shorts downward. All bets were off – and any logic was thrown out the window – when her long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around his cock and begin stroking. “Don't worry. You just lay there, Daddy, relax, and let me do all the work. I don't plan on waking her up at all.”

Sammy was hard in seconds as Lindsay spread out across the mattress and sought a better position. She sat on her knees and hunched completely over, near his cock, then removed her hand and laced all her fingers together behind her back. She was clearly proud of those pert, tiny breasts jutting outward through the lacey bustier she wore.

“Look, Daddy! No hands!”

Lindsay leaned in closer and Sammy groaned as her tongue stroked up-and-down and over the head of his cock. A drop of gooey pre-cum leaked from the tip and she first licked it, then sucked it dry.

In a spirited, overcharged mood, Lindsay giggled and again motioned toward Barbara. Indeed, she was a deep sleeper who didn't rouse easily. “I'll try not to wake her, Daddy, as I suck your cock. But I make no promises. …”

Lindsay found a rhythm, bobbing her head over Sammy's shaft, licking it like it was a lollipop, darting her tongue around its veins, sucking the head, and taking it further into her mouth. Lindsay flexed her lips around her teeth to swallow him deeper. She could've used her hands to help balance herself – to provide an anchor – but kept them behind her back as if they were bound there.

By handcuffs, perhaps?

Soon, Sammy became lost in the swirling sensations and unyielding passion and thrust his hips up at her mouth, ordering, “Take me deeper.”

“Easy, Daddy. Don't wake Mommy. Babsy may divorce you and take all your money!” Still, Lindsay did as she was instructed. She opened wide, leaned all the way forward, and sucked Sammy's dick deep into her throat. When Lindsay gagged, he shot a worried glance over at Barbara, thinking the loud, gurgling noise may wake her.

Fortunately, it didn't.

Sammy again thrusted upward into Lindsay's wide, straining mouth, trying to travel deeper. To go where no man has gone before. Lindsay pushed him back down to the mattress, gently, before taking a quick breather. Then, the eighteen-year-old forced his dick into the far reaches of her throat for a couple of seconds before pulling out, again getting a few gasps of air.

Oh, my God. This chick is something else!

Sammy reached out with his free hand and yanked on Lindsay's long-flowing, sumptuous hair, using it to control her mouth, as she started bobbing up-and-down again. Her lips were so far stretched now, and thick tears of concentration streamed from her eyes and down her cheeks as she did her best to provide him with maximum pleasure.

“God help me, darlin' … fuck!”

Lindsay sealed her lips around Sammy's shaft as his body pulsed and contracted, and he shot a hot load of semen into the back of her throat.

Lindsay gulped and swallowed and tried to keep up with his ejaculations. He pulled out from her mouth while still coming, and it made a loud, popping sound as it released. Sperm splashed onto her face, over her lips, even into her hair. Lindsay engulfed his cock again and continued milking away until there was nothing left to give.

In the aftermath, Sammy settled back into the mattress and Lindsay knew he needed a moment to enjoy the relaxation that always followed a good orgasm. She stayed on her knees and wiped the tears from her eyes that came from giving a blowjob so intense and satisfying.

Shortly thereafter, Lindsay was all bright and bubbly again. “Thank you, Daddy.” She laid down and stretched over top of him, shifting about so her ass was across his upper thighs. Almost as if she was preparing to be spanked. Lindsay giggled once more and, with her eyes fixated on his, moved her sweet-cheeks face to Barbara's and kissed her flush on the lips.

Again, Barbara stirred, but didn't wake.

Sammy's insides began churning when Lindsay pulled away and, still staring at him with that vivacious smile, he noticed Barbara had a thick coating of sperm on her lips, and little dabs across her face. Lindsay deposited it there with the kiss, which was clearly her intention.

Lindsay bounced off the bed and gathered the paddle. “I don't know what you're gonna do, Daddy, if Mommy wakes up and finds your cum all over her face. How are you going to explain that off?” Sammy again stared at Lindsay as she regarded Barbara. “Just don't tell her that it was me who did it … I may get grounded!”

Slack-jawed, he watched as Lindsay skipped joyfully out of the bedroom.

As for Barbara, Sammy noticed that she was licking her lips with her tongue, obviously sensing the taste of sperm on them. Barbara swiped at her face with a pair of fingers and inserted them into her mouth, sucking them dry, before offering a content smile and going right back into a deep, satisfying slumber.

“Lindsay, get your hot, little ass back in here,” he called out. “I'm not done with you yet!”

And in the next instant – just like that – reality smacked Sammy across the face and offered yet another harrowing wakeup call. He sat up in bed, his body covered in a hot sweat, and his heart pumping double-overtime.

Dammit, another dream. Fuck, fuck, fuck, double fuck! It's happening every night. Having sex with Lindsay in some form or another (with her calling him Daddy, of course) and nearly getting caught red-handed by Barbara.

The digital alarm clock beside him read 3:23. Trying to control his emotions, Sammy glanced down at the still-snoozing Barbara and shook his head. My lust for Lindsay is spiraling out of control. She's dominating my every thought and all I want to do is get lost in that scrumptious, little body of hers. I need to fuck again her and make her mine!

It's eleven days away, right? He and Lindsay had plans to hook up at the airport hotel in Salt Lake City eleven days from now and spend not only the whole day together but have an overnight as well. I’ll make her fall asleep with my dick in her mouth. Sammy withdrew his shaft from his boxers and began stroking it in mid-air.

That little tart has taken to calling me Daddy in all her e-mails and is driving me fucking insane. Says she deserves to be punished for being such a promiscuous slut and I can dish it out whatever way I see fit. Promises to take her discipline like a good girl. She's sooooo submissive and wants to hand me the keys to her soul. Not only were these e-mails and thoughts affecting Sammy in the workplace, but his life at home as well.

Barbara suspects something because everywhere I go, everywhere I turn, all I see is Lindsay.

Either she was enduring her latest spanking, on her knees performing fellatio or, better yet, bent over the kitchen table getting her ass reamed full of his cock. Fuck, I can't wait until I'm inside her ass for the first time! Truth be told, Sammy had more fantasies about that than anything else. I want it, I need it, hell, I’ll have it for breakfast! Lindsay was vocal and whiny in all these dreams at the roughhouse treatment, but also eager to learn and progress in her training, and desperately wanted to please Sammy. Like a proper, little slut getting paid top dollar should.

“That hurts, Daddy!” Sammy could hear her crying out in his mind’s eye and it made his head tremble and nearly erupt like a volcano. Emotions boiled over and he balled both hands into fists, and every muscle within his body flexed tight.

I cannot take this anymore! I need to fuck her again! There is no way in hell I can wait eleven more days. I must see Lindsay way sooner than that! …

 

(End of Chapter Twelve - to be continued)

 





 

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