The Girlfriend Experience Ch. 03

But Lindsay hadn't been thinking about work.

After the customer left, she had the urge to go into Pamela's bedroom and find out what it was like to go down on a woman. Sure, Lindsay wouldn't have a clue and may wind up slobbering everywhere, but she didn't care. The eighteen-year-old wanted to dive right into Pamela's pussy and, if she had her way, feast until the wee hours of the morning. I'd love to give Pamela an orgasm.

Lindsay considered doing just that but didn't know if it would be grounds for termination since Colt instructed her to stay put. She almost texted Pamela and asked her to come into her bedroom instead but didn't have the nerve. I'm falling in love with her.

Was it because she felt smitten with Pamela's beauty and charm? Lindsay did a double-take last night when Pamela passed by on the way to Colt's office. She was scrumptious with her hair loose and free-flowing, and Lindsay became lost in those dazzling brown eyes. Every time Pamela moved, Lindsay felt mesmerized by those wondrous breasts and beguiling hips. How can she walk in those stripper heels with such ease?

And when Pamela woke up this morning, devoid of any mascara and her hair disheveled, and they crossed paths, Lindsay was blown away. I want to wake up to Pamela's face every morning for the rest of my life.

Or did the root of Lindsay's attraction stem from Pamela being so considerate yesterday and offering a loan to help get all her legalities in order? $350 morphed into $700. Without her aid, Lindsay would be trying to figure out a way to return home to Citronelle. I may be reduced to sucking dick in some dark alley to build up cab and bus fare. Her hopes and dreams would be shattered, her psyche forever broken. Knowing my luck, the sheriff would catch me, and I'd be thrown in jail.

But Pamela made sure that didn't happen. Who goes around offering someone they met an hour earlier a loan for seven hundred bucks?

"Jim, can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing, hon. What is it?"

Lindsay hesitated, unsure how to say this. She took the best route and was blunt. "I cannot believe Pamela and Colt are married. That's gnarly! I mean, wouldn't most husbands be jealous? Insanely jealous? It must tear Colt apart inside when Pamela's with another man." It tore me apart last night and I just met her.

"It's just business, sweetheart. All it is ... business." Jim recited Colt's motto in life and concentrated as he switched lanes and zoomed past a slow-moving tractor-trailer. "Pamela and Colt love each other very, very much. Pamela always returns to him no matter what. She's the kindest, sincerest girl you could ever meet, and loves Colt with all her soul. He loves her to the moon and back again too. Pamela seeing a client? It's just business."

Jim twirled his head about again. "You gotta remember, Colt has worked at the brothel for twenty-six years. His dad owned it before he was born. It's in his blood and he's used to this life. I am as well. There's no jealousy or animosity like you'd find in a normal marriage. It may not be typical for ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent of people, but it is for us." He bunched his mouth into a pucker. "This ... it's our every day."

"It's different from anything I've ever known."

"You'll adapt to it."

Lindsay wrung out her clammy hands. "I don't know."

"Colt told me to use the business credit card and buy whatever your sweet little heart desires today. So did Pamela. When the time is right and you've had a couple of parties, Colt says he'll transfer whatever you spend today from your ledger to Pamela's."

Lindsay's eyes watered with tears again. "That's so Gucci of them, especially Pamela. But why are you using the company credit card? Pamela said I'd get cash."

"Colt and Pamela never buy anything with cash. They go after credit card points. They hoard them like you wouldn't believe. They take trips all over the world and often don't pay a cent. They recently took a vacation to Bora Bora that would have cost thirty thousand dollars but paid for it in credit card points. Didn't cost them a dime."

Thus, a significant reason Pamela was intent on continuing to work and earn more money. They could have converted those points to cashback, but despite wanting a quiet, ordinary life in the future, Pamela loved to travel and see new places (as did Colt). With what Pamela was forced to go through on a daily basis, Colt believed she deserved all the relaxation and time away she could get.

"Wow. Credit card points?" Lindsay scrunched her nose. Is that some sort of currency?

"Pamela plans on helping you out. She wants to educate you on building credit and saving money. Many times, girls start working in this business - a brothel, a strip club, what have you - and wind up throwing all their money away and destroying their credit. They're too young to know any better. None of us want that for you or any of our employees. Next week, Pamela wants me to take you to Flagstone Savings and Loan and have you set up a checking account. I'm also going to help set up an online saving account for you, if you want, because they gain a considerable amount of interest. Not as much as they did thirty years ago, but still, more than a traditional brick-and-mortar bank."

Another tear trickled down her cheek. "Why is Pamela being so good to me?" I'm starting to understand why girls like Sahara, Riley, and Nicolette stay at this house and don't chase the big money elsewhere. Pamela truly is the Mother Hen.

Plus, Lindsay heard some horror stories from a few of the others about their experiences at the larger houses. They fostered a competitive, cutthroat atmosphere, and that was out of her comfort zone. I like how things are chill and laid-back here. It's like Sunday afternoon vibes.

"Why is Pamela being so good to you?" Jim chuckled. "Oh, easy - she likes you."

Spank me, Mommy. Spank and fuck me. "I like her too." Do it with a strap-on!

"Both Pamela and Colt enjoy helping all our employees, not just you. Who knows? Your time with us may be fleeting, but they want to offer direction and put you on the correct path in life. They do this for everyone. It's who they are. They're good people."

"I can't believe how cool everyone has been to me." This is proof I made the right decision by branching out and trying something new.

Jim was ready to give himself a pat on the back. After being called a whore at the sheriff's station earlier, he transitioned Lindsay toward discussing her love of hiking and then Pamela, and now she was no longer upset. Lindsay was talkative and curious, and her expression danced with adoration for the past several minutes at the mere mention of Pamela's name.

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"It was awesome meeting you. Thanks for having me. Let's do it again in the future, shall we?" Several hours later, Pamela rose from her bar stool and offered Charlie Winters an affectionate hug following their GFE extravaganza. A virgin no more, Charlie's date with Pamela lasted three hours and featured a pair of toe-curling orgasms. Pamela proved to be a sexual dynamo and delivered far more pleasure than he ever hoped for.

Although a prostitute, Pamela was authentic, and the exact opposite of what Charlie expected out of traveling 2,000 miles to lose his V-card. Certainly, Pamela bore no resemblance to those wild hookers and coked-up strippers on The Jerry Springer Show.

Pamela didn't make it seem like their encounter was all about the money either. Sure, having sex was her job and how she made a living, and Charlie understood that. He respected it, too, and didn't have a problem compensating her for her services. Would Pamela agree to have sex him without any money involved?

Of course not.

I bet Pamela has an endless line of guys beating down her door back home in Florida. She could have anyone she wants. Charlie wondered what it would be like to have his pick of any woman in the world. I know who I'd choose: Pamela. To be as attractive as her, as desirable. But the idea was foreign and not worth his time or effort to consider. That will never be me.

Regardless, Pamela was a joy to be with. Charlie didn't expect such an emotional, heartfelt connection. I feel like I've known this gal for a decade, not just since eleven-thirty this morning. What he enjoyed most - even more than the sex, which was plentiful - were those tender moments where they cuddled and spoke in bed like newlyweds. Talk about a dream come true. In between their many rounds of lovemaking, Pamela listened and responded to every word Charlie said about his childhood, a flourishing career, and the silly, off-the-wall hobbies he had in his personal life.

He wished he could get to know her better.

"Umm, yeah, I mean, is there anything else? Is that it?"

"Yeah, that's it for me, I'm afraid. I got a few things to do." Pamela could tell Charlie didn't want to leave yet, but time equaled money, and she had spent an additional sixty minutes socializing with him in the bar free of charge. In the larger brothels, that was unheard of. Clients would receive ten minutes before and after parties - if they were lucky.

But if Charlie wasn't going to purchase more GFE time, Pamela had to say goodbye. He already said he had a strict budget for his vacation.

She would never push any paying customer out the door, but she had done her part, and wasn't against giving Charlie a nudge. Pamela wanted to freshen up and hang out with Lindsay later this evening once she returned from her day out (and have sex with her too).

"The important thing is you enjoyed yourself."

"Oh yeah," Charlie babbled. "I had a wonderful time."

"Good, good! So did I." Wearing a replica Michael Jordan Washington Wizards jersey several sizes too large (and nothing else), Pamela was full of positive energy as she leaned in and kissed her john flush on the mouth. Her hair was pinned up in a loose, hastily thrown-together bun that had slipped to the nape of her neck. "Thanks for helping me clean up my room at the end too. We made a mess, didn't we?" Pamela latched on to Charlie's hand and escorted him toward the exit. "Stockings and heels, different pieces of lingerie, things were everywhere."

"Oh, I didn't mind. I was happy to help." Charlie had the most amazing experience of his life, bar none, and was elated. How could anything top losing his virginity to a woman this ravenous, this lustful, yet also so refreshing and likable at the same time?

Yet a hollowness plagued his chest, weighing him down. If I had one wish, it would be to take Pamela back to Michigan and marry her. But I ... can't. If given the opportunity, Charlie was convinced he could make her happy. I know I could! They had a lot in common, their chemistry was solid, and she was everything he wanted in a woman. Definite wife material, without question.

"The striptease and lap dance you gave me was fantastic." Why is my hand trembling? "I don't think I'll be forgetting that any time soon."

"I'm glad you liked it, baby." Pamela pressed her side into Charlie's and did a jig once they reached the front foyer. "I enjoyed giving you pleasure, making you happy." She took a step back and put her hands on her hips.

But Charlie wanted to put his hands on her hips again. That ass was a work of art, heart-shaped and supple, and Charlie remembered Pamela flaring it out at one point during their party and taunting him with a fiery, come-hither expression over her shoulder as he enjoyed her in the doggy style position.

Without saying a word, Colt, who'd been overseeing their after-party discussion this whole time, emerged from behind the bar and approached on pure instinct, wanting to be certain Pamela wasn't in harm's way.

Charlie was thirty-six and had an excellent job back home in Detroit with several nest eggs stashed away in various bank accounts. His boss said the sky was limitless. But the poor, lonely man had watched his two younger brothers fall in love in recent years and marry women they adored and often wondered why he couldn't have a blissful existence of his own. Why do I have to travel to the other side of the country to feel a shred of happiness?

What's wrong with me? Why am I so undesirable?

Considering that happiness came courtesy of Pamela, Charlie didn't have any complaints or regrets. Not about her, at least. Instead, his issue was his wretched, pathetic life. Its reality was unsettling; it cut him to the bone.

Charlie had been shoved to the wayside so many times throughout the years that he had lost all hope years ago. The secluded upbringing. Parents who always had something more important going on and never any time for him. His mother never allowed him to enter organized sports. Getting ridiculed, bullies in school, and his teenage crush refusing to acknowledge his existence back in the day.

Going to the prom? Forget about it.

Pamela pulled two clips from her hair. "This was such a fun afternoon." Long, golden tresses tumbled across her shoulders and settled halfway down her back. Her eyes were enormous and inquisitive and sparkled in the dim light. "You're a good man, Charlie, and I wish you nothing but the best."

College wasn't much better. Rejection became a never-ending cycle. Multiple girls gave him the cold shoulder when he asked them out. No one ever invited him to a party or anything fun. Weekend nights were spent studying, his nose buried in schoolbooks.

He felt unattractive and more insecure in his mid-twenties. His brothers were dating, even having sex, in high school. One was a star athlete, for crying out loud! Charlie watched his father die right in front of him. He struggled with health and his sexual orientation. Not experiencing something it seemed like everyone else was doing (and talking/bragging about) took a massive toll.

It fucking hurt.

As Charlie reached his thirties, the isolation worsened. It was suffocating. Was he an incel? Being an older virgin carried a stigmatizing label made worse by social media punchlines and Hollywood blockbusters ridiculing those in his position. His life was a joke, his predicament something to scoff at.

Even if he did meet someone who wanted to go on a date and (gasp!) pursue an actual relationship, how could he tell her he was still a virgin? At his age, Charlie was convinced it would be a red flag, a hurdle most women would have no interest in dealing with.

He soon gave up on the wife and kids thing. That was never going to happen. And shortly thereafter, Charlie realized that if he didn't take drastic measures, he would one day go to his grave as a virgin.

My whole life has been an utter failure.

The desperation to love, to give, to feel, to be normal, and knowing he would never experience any of that unless he paid a woman who worked in some seedy, smoke-infested Nevada whorehouse an ordinate amount of money was shameful and worst of all soul-crushing.

The ultimate humiliation.

But also, his only chance to unshackle the albatross that had held him down for so long. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Dad would skin my hide if he was still alive and knew I'd resorted to this.

"Lunch was delicious too. Thanks again." Pamela grazed her knuckles along Charlie's jaw. "I'm going to miss you, baby, and I'll never forget what a good time we had."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why was Charlie feeling this way? Why'd you skip out on taking your medicine last night? Pull it together, man, and cheer up.

Somehow, Charlie bottled up all his frustration, his putrid despair, and kept himself composed on the outside.

Pamela was too preoccupied to notice as she glanced into the adjacent mirror and stomped her bare foot upon the hardwood floor. "Oh, I look like a hot mess."

No. His emotions at war, Charlie wanted to fold Pamela into his arms and tell her she didn't look like a hot mess, she looked like an angel. His angel, one who'd been sent down from Heaven to grace not only his life but the lives of everyone around her as well. She said she sees guys like me all the time.

No matter what, he couldn't allow Pamela to know the chaos happening inside of him. So, he kept his words safe. "Nah, you look great."

Charlie envisioned Pamela's thick, shiny hair spread across a pillow beneath him on their wedding night. Man, I'd give anything to be with this gal. The image of making love to her as she wore her bridal gown made his stomach flutter and pulse quicken. I'd sell my soul to the devil. Visions of them being jarred awake by a crying infant or chasing a toddler through the house sent his mind into overdrive. Charlie could picture forever with this woman. He had only met her this morning, but that didn't matter.

This felt right. They felt right.

Together.

I love you, Pamela. I'd do anything to make you happy. Please, come with me. Leave this place and I'll spend the rest of my life taking care of you.

She crossed her arms and jutted one curvaceous hip to the side. "Great? Are you serious? I look like I just got fucked. Anyone could tell by looking at me. It's good I don't have anywhere to go tonight, don't you agree? Time to hit the jacuzzi and listen to some chillstep." Pamela inhaled a deep breath that lifted her breasts to the top of her chemise in a mouthwatering way. "All right, thank you again."

Charlie's insides were about to explode. I don't want to leave you. I can't leave you. This was too much.

Way too much.

"Have fun during the rest of your vacation in Vegas." She squeezed his wrist and offered her most heartfelt smile. "I'm hoping you hit the jackpot and can retire to that four-hundred-foot yacht off the coast of Hawaii you've been dreaming about."

Yeah, and you could retire there with me.

Pamela gave him one last kiss. "Come back to the ranch in the future and visit me again, will you?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Told you I would."

She rubbed her hand along his side and he tensed beneath her touch. "Bye, baby. Be careful going back to the hotel. Send me an e-mail once you arrive so I know you made it there safe and sound, okay?"

Charlie trudged out to his rental car sixty seconds later and wondered how the hell he was ever going to be the same with Pamela's charming, girl-next-door demeanor and pinup body forever etched into his mind. What am I doing? I just walked away from the one and only woman on the planet who should be my wife!

"You all right?" Back inside the parlor, Colt embraced Pamela and cradled the side of her face upon his shoulder. "Everything okay? Are you hurting at all?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Sore, but fine." Pamela stepped away and glanced down with strained, uneven breaths. "Charlie was a sweet man and respected my boundaries. I don't have any complaints about him."

"Are you sure you're fine?" Colt lifted Pamela's chin with a finger and gazed into her eyes. "That party was longer than what the typical customer usually gets."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Three hours is nothing." She ground her teeth and glanced away. "Don't worry about me."

"It's my job to worry about you." Colt took Pamela's hand and squeezed it. "I'll never stop worrying about you." He brushed her cheek with a kiss and pulled back, his eyes full of sincerity. "Never stop loving you either." He swiped his thumb across her chin. "You want anything from the kitchen?"

"I could use some alcohol." Though she refused to admit it, Pamela somehow wrenched her back with Charlie and found herself in a fair amount of discomfort. But she was strong-willed and didn't complain about the many aches and pains of her job all too often.