The Girlfriend Experience Ch. 05

Sammy had visions of Lindsay stretched out on the bed in his favorite hotel room, a lavish penthouse suite across from the Salt Lake City International Airport, her wrists shackled, her ankles restrained. A blindfold. A ball gag. An enormous stack of one hundred-dollar bills on the nightstand. Her rightful compensation. Oh, the things Sammy could do, the liberties he could take.

He'd thrash Lindsay's ass with his cat 'o nine tails, his preferred instrument of destruction, and paint her skin a fiery shade of red. Lindsay would be a trembling mess of tears, bound and punished, no matter whether she deserved the whipping or not. Her body would be mine to brutalize whatever way I wanted. The gag would come off, but Sammy would plug her mouth right back up with his dick. Bareback, of course; no condoms like these damn houses require. After a hard face-fucking, deep, thorough, and satisfying, Sammy would offer to add another five hundred dollars to Lindsay's already substantial gift. I want to fuck your ass, darlin', and come in it.

"Holy shit!" The imagery alone made him gasp. Being as close to Lindsay as he was now, with her performing fellatio, but not able to enjoy her the way he wanted to almost did him in. Sammy yearned to flat-out seize this prime, young filly, collar and claim her as his property, and fuck her with no house or government restrictions getting in the way.

Barbara may know I visit the brothels, but she has no clue I have my share of sugar babies on the side too.

"Move your hair. Move your hair, pretty girl - there we go. Eyes open. Oh yeah. I love it. Keep suckin' that dick and I may tip you another fifty-dollar gift card."

"I'd like that, sir."

"Of course you would, whore. Your body was designed to be used and penetrated like this. All your tight little holes simply exist to milk a cock."

As I party more with Kayleigh over time and earn her trust, perhaps she'll agree to meet me off the books for a night, maybe a weekend, in Salt Lake City. Would Lindsay be open to such an arrangement? I'll double, even triple, what she'd receive here after the house fees to get her to say yes if that's what it takes.

Sammy would handle any airline or travel fees, too, treat her to meals at five-star restaurants, tour the city, shower her with expensive gifts and jewelry, and then indulge his hardcore passions in the privacy of their hotel suite. I have no doubt this chick is submissive and needs a legitimate, hardcore fucking. I can't give it to her now. Not the type she needs, at least, but I could elsewhere.

Though paying for sex outside the confines of a Nevada brothel was illegal and punishable by time spent in prison, it was nothing Sammy hadn't done multiple times in the past with other girls. The possibility of getting caught by the authorities didn't register as a blip on the radar to him. Gotta be smart, discreet, selective, and keep a low profile.

His favorite prostitute from Happy Ending Ranch was, without question, Scarlett. Well, until tonight came along, at least. That redhead is a kinky, nasty slut, a true handful. She's got a mouth that could suck a golf ball through a garden hose. But Lindsay had potential, a far higher ceiling. Not only was she the most electrifying girl he'd ever been with, bar none, but also the most responsive.

The possibilities were limitless.

Sammy theorized Lindsay was too green at this stage, too naïve to understand the way the process worked, but over half the girls in brothels would go the illegal route with a monger if there was enough trust and the price was right. Being offered a substantial amount of cash and not having to split it fifty/fifty with the house (their pimp) was too difficult to pass up. Most girls wouldn't report it on their taxes, either, meaning they'd keep one hundred percent of the agreed-upon fee and use it whatever way they deemed necessary.

One day, I'll make Kayleigh an offer she can't refuse. His motivation for taking such a risk that may devastate his life was simple: Big Brother isn't listening or watching on surveillance, waiting for one wrong word to be said that would land both provider and client in trouble. Middlemen like Colt McCarron wouldn't siphon fifty percent of the proceeds these girls worked so hard for either. Colt is a decent guy, but he doesn't deserve any of my money. I want everything to go to the ladies.

Most of all, the lone rules in these illegal, off-the-books parties were the rules set between two consenting adults, not the state of Nevada or the local municipality, and not some uptight house where the owner was terrified of losing his business license if a girl wanted to do something special for a client like give a bareback blowjob.

Or take it in the ass.

This industry has been so conditioned since the AIDS epidemic some thirty or thirty-five years ago, and because of it, visiting a brothel isn't near as fun as it once was. God, I've never had an issue. But with the way things are nowadays, some of these chicks are even afraid to kiss their customers. How fucking pathetic.

Lindsay's blue eyes were now watershed, her mascara smeared. She was a captivating mess, obscene and breathless, as she pulled back and stared at Sammy with a line of drool dangling from her chin. "I wish I could swallow your cum and choke on it!"

Boy, oh, boy. With eyes like those gazing back at him for the next two hours, how was Sammy not going to break his cardinal rule, his own personal mandate, for LPIN and sex outside his marriage?

Fucking shit, man. I've already fallen hard for this whore. How could he allow this to happen? We just met! And Godfuckingdammit, I want much more from her than a standard pay-and-fuck in Salt Lake City too. ...

* * *

"Twelve hundred and sixty dollars." Colt swiped Sammy's credit card and waited for it to process in the mobile reader. Once approved, he handed it back to Pamela. "That's a ton of money, but I know Kayleigh is worth it." He shot his wife a sidelong glance. "Are you sure you're up to working tonight too?"

Pamela avoided his gaze and folded her arms with a scowl. Inside Colt's office in the westernmost area of the house, they were once again ready to set aside their sacred marriage vows in favor of securing a payday. "Haven't we been through this already?"

"We have." Colt closed the distance and encircled his arms around her from behind. The tantalizing aroma of Pamela's perfume drifted, reawakening memories of their recent vacation when it was just the two of them. No guys like Charlie were around to swoop in and steal you away when all I really want right now is for us to have a few hours alone.

Was that too much to ask for?

Pamela wore a bubble-gum-pink dress laden with rhinestones, its hem cut incredibly short, featuring a crewneck with long, skintight sleeves that accentuated her considerable, up-top assets. Her legs were bare except for Valentino Rockstud leather pumps, sleek and toned and sexy as hell. This was her fourth outfit of the day, but the night was still young, so more would follow. Her hair was down, center-parted with smooth, tight waves to the edges, and had a retro cat-eye with waterproof mascara.

"I don't know. You've seemed off this week since we returned from Bora Bora." His eyebrows drew together. "And I can tell your back is bothering you. You should take the night off and relax."

"God, Colt, will you stop?" Pamela wiggled free from his grasp, frustration and disdain wrapped up in her voice. "My back is fine. Why do you sometimes gotta talk to me like I'm a ninety-year-old woman in traction? I know it's not your intent, but it comes across as insulting." It took all Pamela's self-constraint not to cut loose and put him on blast. "I'm young, healthy, athletic, and have never been in better shape."

"I worry about you."

"Stop worrying about me." In recent months, Colt had become increasingly outspoken when it came to Pamela's physical wellbeing. She couldn't understand why when he never raised such concerns during her initial decade-plus on the job. Where was it coming from? It was irrational, delusional, and needed to stop.

"I know there's something wrong with your back."

More rage mounted, however this wasn't the time to hash things out. "I have to take Sammy's credit card back so he can enjoy the rest of his party with Kayleigh." She snatched the receipt from Colt's hand. "You and I are gonna have a talk about this later tonight, buster. I'm an adult and can take care of myself. Nothing is wrong with me. How dare you insist otherwise." Pamela gnawed on her bottom lip to stifle her emotions. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm taking this to Sammy, and then I'm gonna wait at the bar and try to snatch the next customer who walks in."

Colt trembled and bit his tongue as Pamela stormed away, high heels a-clanking. The woman was so damn stubborn that he could hear his blood rushing through his brain. After twelve years of tending to client after client after client, Colt feared Pamela's body was nearing the point of no return. This job is brutal and a person can only take so much. He rocked back and forth. No amount of money is worth permanent damage.

Normally, Colt would've trusted Pamela and her insistence that nothing was wrong. He had always trusted her, and indeed, she sported an outstanding physical condition, having dedicated herself to fitness and healthy eating habits over the previous decade.

But he had his grounds for concern and watching Pamela limp out of the office a few seconds ago while favoring the small of her back did nothing but add to them.

<> <> <> <> <>

"I don't care that Pamela is a prostitute and having sex with others, being with them, is how she earns her living. I'm sure she has her reasons, and to me, there's nothing wrong with it. Call me crazy if you want, Tracie, but I know this girl likes me. I could tell by the things she said, the way she acted, and how she looked at me. I know she felt something. I know it."

On the opposite end of the telephone line, Charlie's older sister - his confidant and one trusted source in life - wasn't convinced. "Seeing guys and making them happy is her job, Charlie. Don't you understand that? It's what she does. You get these ideas, these flights of fancy in your head, but they're not feasible. How long did you say she's worked at that place again?"

"Twelve years."

"Think of how many guys she's been with in those twelve years. Think about it, okay? Meeting a hooker and wanting to run off with her and start a whole new life the very same day is not feasible. It's not realistic." Her voice was strong, impassioned. "I know you don't want to hear this, Charlie, but as your sister and someone who loves you, I'm compelled to say it: you paid for your time ... and now she's on to the next guy."

"She may well be, but that doesn't mean she didn't feel something for me too. Her job is a vicious cycle and she needs someone to help pull her away from it." Seated in his rental car at a gas station in Coyote Springs, Nevada, Charlie was enjoying two hot dogs and a super-sized soda. It wasn't the healthiest dinner but tasted appetizing to a hungry man. Besides, alternatives were nonexistent out here in the desert. "I don't know, Tracie. I had such a marvelous time with Pamela - the time of my life."

"And I'm glad you did. I truly am." Tracie was being sincere. She had always stood by Charlie's side whenever he needed her. Tracie didn't always agree with his ideas, but still supported him no matter what.

"I love this girl." Charlie got a squirmy feeling in his gut. "But I know you think I've lost it."

"No, I think you had a wonderful, life-altering experience earlier, and you're not thinking logically. You're lonely, Charlie, and I know still being a virgin at your age weighed you down in recent years. I know it did, but now, you can breathe easy. It's over and you can move on. Why don't you come home and seek out a good, clean girl?" Tracie drew a sharp breath. "How do you ... do you even know if her real name is Pamela?"

"Yes, it is. She told me it is. I believe her."

"Girls in her line of work don't use their real names."

"I believe her. Pamela wouldn't lie to me. As for being good and clean, Pamela is that, too, and so much more. She's the sweetest, most downhome girl I've ever met."

"Charlie, she has sex with random strangers in exchange for money. Think about that for a moment, okay? There is nothing sweet or downhome about selling sex."

Talking to his sister about this and sharing his plans of losing his virginity before leaving for his vacation wasn't ideal, however Tracie was the only person Charlie was comfortable trusting with such personal information. Unlike his two younger brothers or colleagues at work, Tracie would never betray his trust and blab to others.

Still, having this discussion was difficult. Tracie didn't want any specific play-by-play details, of course, but Charlie had no shame speaking to her about losing his virginity. It was therapeutic. Instead, the problem was, at least in his mind, she didn't understand.

How could she? Tracie had recently celebrated her fortieth birthday, had a husband who worshipped the ground she walked on, and three young children. Her life was the definition of happiness. The exact opposite of mine.

I know Tracie tries her best to understand, but she has no idea what it's like to walk in my shoes. Whereas she was talkative and outgoing, Charlie was a recluse. Tracie had 345 friends on Facebook. Charlie had four, and she was one of them. I bet she is friends with every single one of them in real life too. While she was the life of the party, Charlie had always been on the outside looking in. She doesn't know what it's like to be alone and so depressed that oftentimes you think killing yourself is the only option.

"If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but I think I'd be making the biggest mistake of my life if I don't go back and spend time with Pamela again. I love her and believe she can grow to love me too." Charlie glanced out beyond the gas station and to the dusty sign on the side of the highway.

Flagstone: 121 miles

"I'm going to splurge and stay the whole night with her."

(End of Chapter Five - to be continued)