The Girlfriend Experience Ch. 01

"What?" Colt scowled, wielding his most cutting glare right down the center of Pamela. "You didn't tell her about the upfront fees during the telephone interview?"

"Of course, I did," Pamela lashed right back. She composed herself and slid a hand to Lindsay's shoulder. "Do you have an ATM card? We have a machine in the lobby." She glanced at Colt again. "I swear to you, I did."

"I ... I ... don't have a bank account. I closed it. Took all my savings out." Tears of overwhelming anxiety were gnawing at Lindsay's eyelids and threatening to create a tsunami of biblical proportions.

She was so damn close to getting her foot in the door, yet now it had been slammed in her face. Oh, no. Lindsay would have to call her parents and beg for a way back home after all. No possible way she could ask them for money to start working here, right? They'd lock me in my room forever.

"I spent so much on new outfits and shoes, and the rest on just getting here. The hotel in Vegas was one hundred and forty dollars, and the Uber ride cost me two hundred and twenty-one. I paid for it with a gift card." Her chin vibrated. "I haven't eaten anything in twenty-four hours either. I couldn't afford dinner last night."

"I told you, you needed to have three hundred and ten dollars for the medical testing and sheriff's card. In fact, I told you three-fifty." Stricken, Pamela's gaze locked on to Colt. "I tell that to every girl who applies. I always do. I've never missed telling them."

Colt exhaled a deep, cleansing breath. "I believe you." Sympathetic eyes drifted toward Lindsay. "Why in the world did you take an Uber? They're so expensive. We would have arranged for free transportation once you arrived in Vegas. All you had to do was ask."

"You need some food in you. Pronto." Pamela reached for Lindsay's hand. "I'll text Jim and have him scoot off to Tesoro's down the block and fetch you takeout. You like pepperoni pizza, sweetie? How about a garden salad?"

"Can I have both?" Lindsay held a palm to her stomach and looked to be the saddest of the sad. "I'm starving."

Pamela already had her phone out. "I'm texting Jim now."

Reality set in. "I'm sure you told me to bring extra money. I ... I don't know. I guess I forgot. I felt so nervous, so scared during that phone call, that it must've flown right over my head." She buried her face atop Pamela's shoulder and sobbed. "What am I going to do now? I can't ... I can't afford those fees. I don't want to go back home." Her sniveling fit intensified. "I'd rather die than go back to Citronelle."

Pamela's jaw dropped as she pivoted toward Colt. They had never encountered anything like this with a new hire. An uncomfortable silence lingered until Pamela coiled an arm around Lindsay's head and pressed their cheeks together.

Colt crossed his arms. "Pamela, no. Don't. You. Dare." His voice was firm and final. "We don't loan money to turnouts for the fees they're supposed to pay for themselves. It's not a precedent we need to set."

"But she's so sweet. And I don't want to lose her. I mean, will you look at her? She's a Barbie doll. I bet she makes a fortune for us too. Plus, I like her."

Pamela guided Lindsay's face away from hers. "Hey, honey." Tender brown eyes came into focus. "Lindsay?" Pamela's thumb stroked her chin, providing the most comforting touch Lindsay ever experienced. "Listen up, okay? You don't have to go back to Citronelle. I'll loan you three hundred and fifty dollars so you can have your tests taken care of with some extra left over to spend. That way, you can start working tomorrow night."

Colt huffed and shoved away from the desk.

"Oh my God." An exhilarating flurry of shock and surprise erupted. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Once you have a few parties under your belt, you can cash out and pay me back."

Lindsay was motionless. "Seriously? You ... you'd help me out like this?" When Pamela tipped her head forward, Lindsay tossed both arms around her and the waterworks flowed in earnest. "Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll repay it as soon as I can." Lindsay tightened the grip into a bear hug. "You just saved my life."

A burst of affection lit Pamela's eyes and she hummed; the embrace wouldn't be ending any time soon. She had no complaints. "My pleasure, baby. My pleasure." She emitted a content sigh. "Oh, your body feels so soft, so warm."

* * *

Colt's arms still folded, he levied a glare at Pamela, his hands balled into fists. He wasn't one bit surprised, as Pamela displayed a serious shine for Lindsay. She possessed a gentle heart, and this was typical of her.

He always told Pamela she was "too nice" to work in a brothel. She was the most gracious working girl he had ever known, period. An Empath, indeed, and many clients fell in love with her because of it. That was wonderful for business but could also be messy if a client became too attached and expected things from her in the real world.

What happens in the brothel stays in the brothel.

Though unhappy, Colt recognized giving Lindsay a hand was the proper course of action. Happy Ending Ranch had never extended such a courtesy to a new hire. I suppose we're paying for her lunch now, too, huh?

But Colt had no doubt: this amounted to a wise business decision, though the corporate shark in him didn't agree. It told him any money given to turnouts would flee out the door with them. Girls her age are dodo birds. They don't know their left from right, and they're not to be trusted.

But if Lindsay stayed long-term and handled herself in the bedroom, Colt figured she'd be his highest-earning performer in no time flat. She seems motivated about getting a job here. He had been searching for a younger girl since Amber's mother forced her to quit four months ago. Fresh faces always fetched top dollar. Experience right off the bat wasn't necessary, just a willingness to please and give an effort.

Such youth and innocence. Many of his customers, specifically the older ones stuck in stale, ungratifying marriages and seeking a unique thrill, would leap at the chance to sink their dicks into a darling, hard-bodied teenager. Lindsay would be Happy Ending Ranch's teacup-sized Homecoming Queen whose mouth and pussy were open to all comers. Customers would chew her up, spit her out, and come back for round two.

And three. And four.

Could Lindsay handle such a demand? That was the million-dollar question. Could she withstand the rigors that were sure to follow? Could she do it with a smile on her face at all times? Could Lindsay accept the fact the brothel promoted its own website with a public message board where clients would discuss intimate details about her, such as the tightness of her vagina and the size of her breasts? Could she handle those unsolicited opinions about her body? The quality of her lovemaking skills? Being a willing participant in another person's infidelity?

Did Lindsay possess the willpower to be treated like a piece of meat? An object? Perhaps several times a day by different, varying customers of all ethnicities and walks of life, and maintain a veil of enthusiasm and happiness in the process? Could Lindsay deliver the impression that she welcomed everything they did, no matter how lewd or repulsive the situation became, and always ask for more?

Only time would tell.

But if she ran off like a thief in the middle of the night with their money, which he half-expected her to do, well, Colt would take only one course of action.

Give Pamela never-ending hell over it.

<> <> <> <> <>

"That's my girl!" Riley, a four-year veteran of the LPIN scene, motioned toward an attractive, slender brunette, and bounced on her toes while introducing Lindsay to her real-life girlfriend and in-house roommate, Sahara. "We do everything together."

"Riley and I have been inseparable since grade school," Sahara said, "and I've always had to protect her because she's so fucking generous, and people like to take advantage of her. We go out, do our thing ... I don't know." A flinch issued from her shoulder. "We're fucking young women from L.A. who enjoy partying and having a good time."

Riley squeezed Sahara's hand. "We don't even have to say shit to each other to know what the other is thinking. Like, if a cute guy walks into the room, there are no words that need to be exchanged. We look at each other and, like, we already know we're gonna fuck him."

Sahara reached out and grazed her knuckles across Riley's cheekbone. "She's my thot. If anyone fucks with her, they gotta fuck with me too."

"Oooooh! Fuck bitches, get money!"

These two are mad turnt, Lindsay told herself. This discussion was such a stark contrast from when she was with Pamela and Colt in his office earlier. How many drinks have they had?

Sahara wagged a finger Riley's way. "She's the wild one, not me. I'm perfectly sane and never come up with any bad ideas."

Riley's green eyes sparkled. "She's my little rider."

"This chick is my everything. She's my partner in crime." Sahara caressed Riley's shoulder, down her arm, until their fingers tangled. "I love her to death."

In the corridor, Pamela massaged Lindsay's wrist. "Sahara and Riley have been working here for the past two years and are getting married this coming December."

"To each other?" Cheeks flaming, Lindsay took a step back. No way. These two were an item, clearly, but marriage would've never crossed her mind.

"What?" A smile ruffled Sahara's lips as she eyed Lindsay up and down in a similar fashion to how Colt did before the interview. "You have a problem with same-sex marriages, buttercup?"

Buttercup? Lindsay fiddled with her tank top and bile burned the back of her throat. She inhaled against it. "No, no, of course not. Not at all."

Riley extended a finger and trailed it through Lindsay's demure cleavage. "You're so sweet. So young and fresh." Lindsay's pulse roared. "You should consider hanging out with us in our room this afternoon, honey, after you finish your orientation." Lindsay glanced down at Riley's probing fingertip and swallowed hard. "The three of us could have loads of fun together."

Sahara quirked an eyebrow. "Netflix and chill?"

Lindsay's head drew back as her shoulders nudged forward.

"You ever been with a girl before?"

Troubled, embarrassed eyes darted upward. "No."

"Well, even better."

Riley pressed her body against Lindsay's. "We'd teach you how to lick pussy and rock your world like it's never been rocked before."

Sahara tapped a finger on Lindsay's lips. "You're gonna have to learn sometime, aren't you? It's part of the job, baby."

"As you've noticed," Pamela said to Lindsay moments later as she continued showing her around the property, "everyone is carefree and open here. Sahara and Riley have been lovers for well over a decade and enjoy testing the new girls out like they did to you."

"I don't mind." Though still shell-shocked from that discussion, Lindsay wanted to blend in no matter how crazy this place was. But that didn't mean she was ready to take Sahara and Riley up on their offer. "So, let me get this straight: those girls are engaged and roommates here too? I was under the impression everyone has their own private room?"

"We made an exception for them." Pamela raised a lone finger. "Only them."

We?

"They're a real-life couple and each other's shadow. Whenever a customer books a party with either, they always try to convince him to make it a two-girl party. They'll say they're engaged and promise the most unbelievable threesome imaginable. And always deliver."

"But not everyone can afford a threesome." Lindsay braced her forearm on the nearby wall. "You said the typical client wants a single-girl party for an hour at five to seven hundred dollars a pop."

"I did. Although if a monger chooses one of them, they'll go with whichever girl - Sahara or Riley - back to their room and party. The other can't enter until the time is up. And if they're with separate customers, the second will escort her john downstairs to the recreation room." Pamela wrinkled her nose and shivered. "I don't like mongers being down there. It's a sanctuary for us employees, but Colt wanted to accommodate Sahara and Riley by letting them share the same room."

Lindsay noted her body reacted far more sensibly to Pamela's tender, outgoing nature than it did to Colt's firm, no-nonsense persona. She's so wholesome and refreshing.

And Pamela was hot as fuck in the yellow minidress with the red trim, too, her legs toned and sleek, and never once losing her balance in those skyscraper heels. That's to be admired by itself.

Lindsay gave Pamela's hand a loving squeeze as the tour continued.

"They're rambunctious, but they're also super chill and two of the higher earners we have. Sahara and Riley have ongoing job offers from the houses outside Reno and Vegas yet keep declining them. They've been around the LPIN neighborhood a long time and love the way they're treated here. We all do."

To Lindsay, both ladies were ravishing as well - petite spinners with slim bodies similar to hers. She felt intrigued by the matching pair of tattoos with cute bow designs Riley flaunted on the back of her upper thighs. Those booty shorts she had on were straight up fire.

Lindsay had long contemplated getting some ink herself. Mom and Dad aren't in charge of my life anymore, and I can do whatever the fuck I want. I'm an adult now.

In fact, every single working girl Lindsay met today (Sahara, Riley, Nicolette, and Aaliyah) was beauty pageant worthy. They were amazing, but also unique in their own special way.

But none compared to Pamela, who'd been so gracious and amicable thus far, not to mention flirtatious. Once Lindsay obtained her sheriff's card in the morning, Pamela insisted either Colt or Jim take her to Oakfall and help pick out some sensual things to wear around the house. The items Lindsay brought with her, such as simple bras and panties, and unimaginative pumps weren't deemed good enough.

Colt was expecting an important telephone call earlier, so he instructed Pamela to continue Lindsay's orientation throughout the ranch. "Pamela is going to teach you how to walk, talk, negotiate, build a following, create a five-year plan, and cultivate your sexuality and lovemaking skills. I want Pamela to be your Big Sister - your guide - as you acclimate to life here this week. And, oh yeah, congratulations. You're hired."

But first, legal paperwork had to be tended to, and mounds of reading material awaited in a separate, smaller office. Hungry, Lindsay scarfed down two slices of pepperoni pizza and a garden salad from a local Italian restaurant. She also had to be trained on how to conduct a "dick check." Lindsay once read about them online but listened to Pamela like she was clueless on the subject.

"At the end of a negotiation, if you and your client can settle on a price, you'll want to ask him to take his penis out so you can perform a dick check. It's mandatory in this house, so they cannot refuse. I don't enjoy doing them at all because it's impersonal and can be off-putting for a man, but Colt has his rules. He has the final say over everything, and no matter what, I can't get him to change his mind.

"Be sure to wear latex, powder-free gloves and use a halogen flashlight for the dick check, or DC for short. We'll provide one for you. Scan for any open sores, scabs, skin tags, discharge, or inflammation. You'll have a box full of wipes soaked in rubbing alcohol and will want to wrap one around the client's dick. If there are any wounds, even minuscule ones, you'll know right away by how he reacts. Rubbing alcohol on an exposed wound, particularly on a penis, isn't a pleasant experience.

"If your customer fails the DC, politely request he leave the premises and alert management immediately. The customer is important, but our personal safety and health always take precedence.

"If they pass, though, point them toward the trucker's shower we have - a shower is also mandatory for any paying customer - and prepare your room for a party. Lay a protective sheet over your bed and change into any new outfit the monger requested. Or go nude if they ask. Leave every decision up to them. We always aim to please."

"Hi, Kenzie. You okay, honey? Oh, you poor thing." Once they'd circled back to the entrance, Pamela rushed over to a savory Puerto Rican empanada at the bar who wasn't having the best of days. Kenzie had her head in both hands and wore a bathrobe that was hanging open in front.

Lindsay again licked her lips, this time at her first-ever sight of an adult woman's bare breasts. They look soft and warm, and I'd love to touch them.

She had a tired, blotchy face, and disheveled black hair pulled back into a scruffy knot. It appeared like a bolt of lightning had struck her.

Jim stood over the woman as if he was her guardian angel, his hand massaging her neck and back. "C'mon, Kenzie. Take this aspirin with some water and eat these grapes. It'll help with your hangover."

The flutter in Lindsay's belly coincided with the twinkle across her face. That's so sweet. She longed for a man to provide for her in such a manner. Imagine Zack being that kind to me. Lindsay stifled a laugh at the ridiculous notion.

"Thank you for getting me takeout, Jim." Holding both arms out wide as if she wanted to hug the entire world, Lindsay beamed at him. Lunch was delicious. "You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

Jim eased away from Lindsay's embrace and winced. "Not a problem." The fifty-six-year-old theorized beneath her façade of innocence Lindsay was a spunky little thing with attitude, and he envisioned a bright future for her working here. Indeed, the sky was the limit. "My pleasure." Truth be told, Jim could've stayed in the hug all day long but past experiences taught him, killer body or not, becoming attached to a turnout would lead nowhere.

Pamela ran a soothing thumb along Kenzie's neck. "Listen to Jim, honey. Taking some medicine and eating some food will make you feel better."

"What happened to her?"

"She partied way too hard last evening with a regular of hers from Arizona," Pamela said to Lindsay. "It was a five-hour party, and both she and the customer got blitzed. Kenzie woke up right before you came here and is paying the price for it now. Colt drove the guy back to the Twin Tops Motel and escorted him to his room so we'd be sure he made it there in one piece."

Pamela focused on Jim, who held a bottled water to Kenzie's unwilling lips with his opposite hand. "You want me to talk to Colt about giving Kenzie a couple hours off? She's in no shape to see anyone at the moment."

"Colt told me she can have the afternoon off. I asked already," Jim said, before shifting his focus back to Kenzie. She groaned and thumped her forehead on the countertop. "Sweetie, c'mon. At least take the aspirin and a drink of water. Do it for me."

Kenzie lifted her head, slowly and not without struggle, to address Lindsay instead. "Are you ... the new girrrrrl?"

"I am. Name's Lindsay." I've never seen anyone in such a drunken haze before. First Sahara and Riley, and now Kenzie? Did every girl classify as a heavy drinker here? I won't fit in if they are. Her mouth dry and doubt swirling, Lindsay rubbed both hands on the two front pockets of her denim shorts and double-checked her phone was there for the hundredth time. "It's so wonderful to meet you."

"Wonderful to ... meet you ... tooooo." Kenzie's forehead fell back to the counter with an audible thud.