The Girlfriend Experience Ch. 06

Pamela was his one true love. His first love, his only love. Colt had been with other women in the past. So many, in fact, that he felt ashamed of himself. Being around a brothel for the past twenty-six years, he had lost count of the exact number long ago.

But it's over five hundred, easy.

Once, he had three women at the same time. It was fun while it happened, but being older and looking back on things now, the memory wasn't pleasant. None of those girls cared about me. Dad made them fuck me, and he refused to give them any money for it too.

Pamela was eighteen years of age (and Colt was thirty-two) when he realized he had something special on his hands. Sure, Colt could say he had been in love with Pamela since day one - and in many ways he had - but on that one chilly December morning in 2006, any lingering doubt was forever erased.

And of all the locations for such a magical moment to take place, it happened in the buffet lounge of the Red Rock Casino Resort & Spa on the outskirts of Las Vegas in Summerlin, Nevada.

Having spent the prior four days in Sin City and introducing a wide-eyed, teenaged Pamela to its many wonders (and having free rein to enjoy her body at his leisure), Colt headed back to the breakfast bar that morning for seconds. When he returned and found Pamela at their corner table, enjoying the last of her own meal in the most inconspicuous of settings, Colt's heart exploded.

Something about Pamela's long, wavy hair combined with the sun shining through a nearby window cast a halo around her as she finished her chickpea-and-onion omelet. To Colt, Pamela was an angel, the way she moved food from plate to mouth and how her fingers appeared so sensual, curved around the fork's handle. It was the defining moment in his life. What would set him on his forever path. The way Pamela's shoulders were squared up. Her long, swan-like neck. The sudden happiness in her eyes and the sight of her lips curling into a joyous grin when she glanced up and saw him approaching.

He had seen all these things every day since they met five months earlier during her interview. Yet Colt never noticed them until this one specific moment. At least, all of them together and framed in one stunning package. The puzzle of Pamela Annabeth Prescott was pieced together, and the result blew him away.

And I allowed her to continue as a working girl. After twelve years, she's battered mentally, is tired most of the time, and has no energy for anything.

Back in the current time, in the diner, Pamela pushed her lunch bowl to the side - she had ordered "a salmon salad with no salmon", her exact words to the waitress - and placed her opposite hand over top of Scarlett's. "I'm glad you were with me and Charlie all night, though. I don't know what I would've done without you."

Scarlett blinked. "I was glad to make the money."

"Last night was rough." Pamela vented her lungs. "I've had many overnight parties before, but never an overnight threesome party. And I got sick again afterward."

What? His legs widespread, Colt had the sudden urge to leapfrog across the table. Sick, as in vomited? Oh, things kept getting worse, didn't they?

"Charlie was such a sweetheart, and I felt terrible because of some of the stories he told us about his life back home. Horror stories. He's had such bad luck with women. It's not fair. Sometimes with these guys who are all alone, I wonder how come they're not married. They're so nice and deserve five wives at once. If only women weren't so superficial and took the time to get to know them."

Scarlett's eyes constricted and an iciness surrounded her much like a protective cloak. "I never believe what clients tell me. Not a fucking word. Some are nice, yes, but I don't care if they tell me the truth or not. It doesn't matter. It's a business transaction to me, nothing more."

Pamela's gaze narrowed as well. "That's a little harsh, isn't it? They're people just like you and me and deserve to be treated with respect." Pamela's attitude was unique because of Colt's influence. He had always stressed how important it was to be caring, but also genuine, to all her clients.

Keep your distance, yes, but also be courteous and genuine. Who doesn't prefer honesty? It translated into longer parties, future visits, and more money.

"I don't let any client affect me emotionally." Scarlett's tone had a jagged edge. "They pay me for a service, and I give said service to the best of my ability. But when it's over, it's over, until the next time. I'll share e-mail and post on the website, sure, but only because it may lead to more money down the line. Some of these guys are super-dependent on receiving messages from me. Says it makes them feel important." She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I'll always answer back if I'm confident they'll see me in the future." She flexed her fingers and squinted her eyes. "If not, fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all."

Pamela needs to retire. Colt continued to stare at her and kept repeating the same basic thought. I cannot say it enough. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, she was a shell of her former self. And during the downtime Pamela had, there were certain occasions when she could barely drag herself out of bed. Things aren't supposed to be like this for a thirty-year-old.

"Still, I'm happy Scarlett was with me last night." Pamela switched her focus to Colt. "She took some attention away, and I snuck in some quick fifteen- or twenty-minute power naps. That was awesome." Pamela rubbed her thumb over Scarlett's knuckle. "Without you, I ... I don't know. I wasn't feeling good last evening and doubt I would've been able to make it through the night without you. Thank you, but I'm still exhausted."

Colt growled and leaned back, not because of what he had just heard, but because Pamela had gone well beyond her expiration date. Indeed, it was time to hang the high heels up for the last time. "You need to go back to bed."

"Are you going to message Charlie back? He sent me an e-mail, a quick thank you, but nothing more."

"Of course, I will," Pamela said to Scarlett, ignoring Colt's plea for the time being. "Charlie's a nice guy and it'll be an opportunity for mucho dinero if he comes back." Several mongers promised to return one day, yet Pamela never saw them again. For whatever reason, it was a common occurrence. "I'll wait to e-mail him, though, until we get back to the house because it's easier to do it on my laptop." Pamela released Scarlett's hand and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I'd prefer to be with Charlie for five hours, even if it's spread over several days, instead of five random truckers for five one-hour parties. I want him to come back."

Scarlett scrunched her face. "Truckees are so dodgey. I'm glad we have the shower for them. Sometimes they come in all bitter and angry because of their long routes. And lots of times they stink to the high heavens. Fuck those assholes; I hate them." She shifted toward Colt and punched his forearm. "I almost lost it this morning when you texted me and said to offer Charlie thirty additional minutes for free."

Colt finished his cheeseburger. "He spent a lot of money and I'd like him to come back in the future." But I had no idea Pamela was under the weather. "I wanted him to leave the ranch with the best experience possible. People like free stuff, especially in brothels."

Pamela's phone dinged again. "Lindsay - Kayleigh - just sent me a text." She read it and chuckled. "Oh, poor thing. 'We've had two lineups today, and I wasn't chosen for either of them.' She put three frowny-faces at the end."

"I'm going to need to talk to Kayleigh." Colt gave a shake of the head. "She can't keep getting upset if people pass her over in lineups. Girl needs thicker skin. It's going to rub others the wrong way and create enemies."

"Aaliyah was pissed at her last night because of the way she acted when that guy chose Sahara," Pamela said. "I'll have a talk with Kayleigh too."

"I get passed over all the time and it doesn't bother me," Scarlett said. "Can't take it personal. I know my look, my image - porn star wannabe - doesn't appeal to everyone. Neither does Kayleigh's. Not every fifty- or sixty-year-old man is gonna want to pay to be with an eighteen-year-old. Most older guys like deep conversation, a genuine connection, and Kayleigh is too young to offer that."

"Sammy wasn't interested in any deep conversation with Kayleigh last night. He wanted one thing, and one thing only."

Scarlett smirked at Pamela. "Sammy is unbelievable. I love him. He's the one customer I enjoy spending time with."

"Did you tell your fiancé back in Cincinnati that you made forty-five hundred dollars for a single party?"

"I did, and Jason was happy. I'm flying back home Monday morning for my week off and have been thinking of things I can do to pamper him." That was a lie on Scarlett's part. She was flying from Vegas to Salt Lake City on Monday morning, and home to Cincinnati that evening.

"I'm on pace to have about fifteen thousand gross on my three-week paycheck, which is epic. I may buy Jason a top-of-the-line sporting experience or something. He loves baseball. I'll see if the Reds have any on-field promotions. I should look online tonight."

"I don't want you to call for an Uber ride to the airport like you did last time," Colt said to Scarlett. "It's way too expensive. Kayleigh got robbed by coming here the other day in an Uber. Jim or I will drop you off at McCarran Monday morning."

"My flight leaves at six-thirty."

"Won't be a problem. That's perfect because Elisabeth's flight lands at eight-thirty. We'll drop you off and pick her up on the same trip. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Oh? Elisabeth's the one coming in next week to fill my spot?" Scarlett blinked several times. "I haven't seen her in a while."

"You'll see her the week you return. She wants to work a full three week shift this time."

The reason Scarlett would travel to Salt Lake City (and didn't want Colt or Pamela to know about it), instead of returning home to her fiancé, was that she had plans to hook up with Sammy for a little hush-hush, off-the-books "transaction." Sammy had Scarlett's phone number - something Colt and Pamela weren't aware of - and texted her last week with an offer of $5,000 in cash if she'd take a detour to Utah and spend Monday with him.

For Sammy, he'd get to take a spellbinding young woman out to breakfast and have her on his arm, and eventually settle back at the hotel where they'd fuck like crazed sex junkies for the rest of the day. No house rules or etiquette to abide by would hold them back. That meant, for example, there'd be no condoms used during oral, vaginal, or anal sex.

He'd tie her up, too, and make her his BDSM slave.

Sammy had dozens of numbers of both current and retired girls. He would pay for Scarlett's plane ticket to get there and for another for her flight to Cincinnati. All she had to do was show up, be wined and dined by an older, refined gentleman, do her thing, and collect her money.

No strings attached.

Scarlett, like every working girl Sammy had taken things to the next level with, had no hesitation in being with him. She treated him differently than the typical client, too, and enjoyed their time together. That was because emotions never entered the picture and he was benevolent with his money.

They'd done these meetups several times before, and even once in her hometown of Greyford, Ohio, when Sammy was visiting Cincinnati on business. This man would never stalk her or blow up her phone and wasn't looking for a committed relationship. Sammy wanted to have pure, mindless sex, and Scarlett received a sizable cash gift as compensation for her time and services.

There was two other clients Scarlett met at the brothel who she felt comfortable seeing outside its walls as well. One was from Texas and the other from Illinois. The money was first-rate and way too significant to pass up. Colt or Pamela could never find out, though. If either did, Colt (and maybe Pamela, too) would fire her.

The reason she paid for an Uber ride after her last tour instead of letting Colt drive her to the airport was because she met Scott in Vegas at the Bellagio. Scarlett took the red-eye home once they were done fucking.

Aside from the obvious risk of getting caught by the police and arrested, and perhaps thrown in jail, doing this could also destroy Scarlett's career as a legalized working girl. A conviction for solicitation in the state of Nevada meant she'd be ineligible to work in a brothel for a minimum of five years.

Scarlett was arrested two years ago by an undercover police officer while working the streets outside the annual AVN Convention in Las Vegas but got out of it by agreeing to take him back to her room. There, she put her "magic mouth" to work and was forced to allow the cop to fuck her bareback and even have explicit photographs taken of her as souvenirs. It wasn't her proudest moment, but Scarlett did what she had to do.

And she still had an unblemished criminal record because of it.

Pamela's forehead fell to the table with an audible thump. "Oh, I'm so tired."

Colt hung his own head and exhaled a tortured breath before focusing on his bride. "Why don't you take the rest of the night off?" Self-deprecation took over. This is your fault, man. You should have steered her away from this lifestyle years ago. She's way too good of a person to be doing this. "We can take Scarlett back to the house and return to the hotel. Just the two of us."

"It's Wednesday night, baby. You know Wednesday nights are always good for us business-wise." The color rose in Pamela's cheeks as she flipped her hair in defiance. "I don't want to miss out on any parties."

Colt, and close friends like Scarlett and Nicolette, realized it wasn't weakness or loyalty that kept Pamela at the brothel. No, it was the fear of the unknown - the cruel world beyond the brothel's walls and the fact most working girls, including long-time retired ones, received little to no respect in society.

What good would Pamela's studies do her, even as she worked toward an online graduate degree in Psychology and was striving to one day become a Nurse Practitioner, if prospective employers investigated her past? Who would hire her with such a sordid employment history? Anyone?

Down deep, Pamela understood reality and was afraid. She could envision herself still working at the brothel two, maybe three decades from now, too, as there may not be any other option. "I'll probably let random guys fuck me 'til the day I die," she once told Nicolette. "It's what I do; what I'm comfortable with." And the sad fact was that the money Pamela earned was far more lucrative than anything she could make in the medical field. It wasn't even close.

To her, it would be stupid to retire. This was her prime and she was making more money than ever.

"Lady Pamela." Colt touched her shoulder. After her brief burst of conversation, she was slumping like an exhausted child who'd spent all day at the amusement park. "I'm taking you back to the hotel and you're going to bed."

"No!"

"I'll take you out in the morning and you can go on a shopping spree of your own." Not only did he have to sweeten the pot, but Colt needed a reason other than being legitimately concerned for her mental and physical health. Hearing such words might make her face turn crimson and to start shrieking like a banshee. "You got four hours of sleep and you're still exhausted. You've partied for fourteen-and-a-half hours in the past day alone." Pamela relented somewhat, so Colt hammered home the point by saying, "I want you to take the rest of the night off. We'll go back to work tomorrow afternoon, okay?"

"I hate to say this, but you're not looking good right now. Of course, I'm not either. We both look like whorezillas." Scarlett snatched Pamela's hand and kissed it. "You should listen to your husband, babe. Get some more rest tonight. It was so nice to sleep in at the hotel today and not be jarred awake by all those God-awful noises."

"I have a better idea - I'll drop you off at the hotel, take Scarlett back to Flagstone, and come right back to you." Colt gazed deep into Pamela's eyes. "I want you to lie down and rest. Can you do that for me if I leave you at the hotel?"

"Yes." Her voice was timid, submissive.

Colt smirked. Pamela had an iron will and didn't crack like this often. "When I get back, we'll cuddle in bed and talk, all right? I know how you love that. I'll buy a tub of your favorite vegan ice cream, too, and bring the heat pad for your back. How 'bout it?"

She pouted and shunted away, unable to gander at him any longer. "Okay, fine."

"You want the rest of the night off, too, Scarlett? You're welcome to stay with us at the hotel. I'll pay for your own room if you prefer."

"No, I'm cool. I want to make some money tonight."

Ahh, yes, of course you do. That's all you care about. Colt had received numerous customer complaints over the years for a perceived lack of interest on Scarlett's part. A few demanded their money back, calling her cold and unresponsive, but Colt had said nothing to her about it because, despite all the negativity, she was his top earner, and many clients came to the ranch strictly to see her. It was the ultimate catch-22 because he didn't want to upset his breadwinner and have her quit and go elsewhere.

"Can I have off until eight o'clock, though?" Scarlett asked. "That'll give me time for a long bubble bath, and I'll ask Kenzie for one of her world-famous massages if she's not busy. The overnight party was rough on me too. Charlie was super emo, an ugly, uncoordinated slob, and I so wish I could have those eleven-and-a-half hours of my life back."

Why are you such an egotistical diva? "Eight o'clock is fine. I'll let Jim know."

"Thank you, Colt. You're the best!"

(End of Chapter Six - to be continued)