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"He had an emotional, irrational response, and probably regrets it." I'll be an integral chapter of his life story forever and want it to be a positive one. Despite her profession, Pamela still realized a person losing their virginity only happened once and should be a momentous, cherished experience. Mine wasn't - had a little too much tequila one night after school - but that's beside the point. She didn't have it in her to shut Charlie out just like that. I'd feel more guilty than I already do.
Not every customer understands this is a fantasy world. They're supposed to, but some don't. It's not their fault. We don't offer a handbook to go by.
"Pfft." Scarlett swatted the air and put her phone away. "I remember what Sammy told me when I had my first party with him three years ago. I was still new to the brothel scene. Sammy said visiting a brothel, to him, is sport fucking. It's a hobby, nothing more than a fantasy. Sammy compared it to picking up a chick in a bar for a one-night stand. He said he loves coming to brothels but loves his wife more."
"I wish all our customers were like Sammy. He gets it. All the other old-timers do too." Pamela plodded to the window facing the backyard. "The worst-case scenario happens and Charlie becomes obsessive, maybe a stalker, I'm safe here, right? We all are." She turned back toward Scarlett. "The brothel is under airtight lockdown and the sheriff's station is less than a quarter-mile away." Get that thought out of your head, girlfriend. Charlie is not a stalker. He's one of the sweetest guys you've ever met.
Pamela bent the truth when she was entertaining Charlie in recent days. She claimed to be single and still looking for love. But Pamela was a working girl and that was her right. Pamela figured if she told clients she was happily married, it would detract from their fantasy and overall enjoyment, and hurt the chances of repeat business with them.
Colt encouraged Pamela years ago never to tell a client she was married or had a boyfriend. He suggested the same to all his employees. Sure, some hardcore regulars who'd been coming here for years, like Sammy, knew Pamela was married (and to who). But every single one of them respected both Pamela and Colt enough not to go on the bulletin board and blab to the masses.
A few of Scarlett's most ardent customers, for example, were aware she had a fiancé back home in Cincinnati (Sammy, Steve, and Bob - the three she sees away from work (illegally)). Scarlett told everyone else who asked that she was single and happy. "It's impossible to have a relationship working in a brothel. I tried but gave up. When I retire from the business, I'm sure I'll find someone. Besides, I don't need a boyfriend. I receive all the action I could ever want here at work."
If Randy knew Scarlett was engaged, she feared he would never want to be with her again. It would destroy his fantasy. Randy annoyed her with his talk of commitment and honeymooning, but the bottom line was, he was an easy $350 on Scarlett's paycheck each tour (and an Amazon gift card on top of it).
Why would she risk that by telling the truth? It wasn't Scarlett's job to tell the truth. Besides, she believed no customer had the right to know anything about her private life anyway. It was none of their business.
How many of them had lied to her over the years about their own private lives?
But Scarlett didn't care if they lied. Her motto for this job and the way she dealt with her customers was simple: "I don't know these men, I don't want to know these men, and I could give a rat's ass about these men."
Scarlett had learned, in this business, shutting out her feelings was necessary for survival and the only way to keep her sanity. She trained herself to tolerate situations that were otherwise intolerable to her healthier instincts. She also learned to control any voluntary impulses johns may find off-putting, such as anger, shock, repulsion, and even vomiting.
Scarlett developed an expertise in these and other similar skills and became the highest grossing earner Happy Ending Ranch had. Although she'd only been at the house since 2015, Scarlett had over a decade's worth of experience as a streetwalker and traveling escort. After her son was born in 2006, times were tough. Scarlett lived in her car for eight months and thought she had nowhere else to turn to for money.
Faking orgasms with her clients was an art form, a talent that took countless hours of work to perfect. Concentrating on doing it right, putting all the energy into the vocal sounds, shakes, moans, watching all the porn she could find to study the women's acting, thinking of new and interesting dirty talk, and forcing herself to sweat wasn't as easy as many outsiders believed. In Scarlett's mind, sex work was abhorrent, an unpleasant workout with a creepy guy she didn't know.
Pamela, of course, preferred being honest during her parties, but had to draw the line somewhere. I've never faked anything with a client, orgasm or otherwise. Pamela was not about to divulge any sensitive information to anyone either.
And certain things, such as her dating and marital status, would get fabricated. There's a reason I tell my clients I'm from Miami instead of Baltimore.
Scarlett closed the distance between them, hugged Pamela, and kissed her on the forehead. "Colt won't let anything bad happen to you, sweetie. Not only are you one hundred percent safe in this house, but you're safe wherever you go because Colt is always protecting you. I love my fiancé, Jason, but I must admit you struck gold with Colt. He's the perfect man for you. You're a lucky girl and you're safe with him."
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"Dammit!" Lindsay bounced her cell phone off the bed. Her muscles were tense, her pulse pounding. "Why isn't he responding?" She bit her lip, her head vibrating.
It was Friday evening and Lindsay, confined to her bedroom, was still serving her two-day suspension. Thanks a fucking ton, Colt, you asshole. I feel like I'm in jail! Veins popping in her neck, the young woman was agitated because the lineup buzzer had been going off all day and she was missing out on a host of potential clients. I don't know why you gotta be so super sketch with me.
Even if she had two one-hour parties at the house minimum, that would be $500 in profit. How am I going to afford a car at this rate? There was no way in hell she'd stay at the Twin Tops Motel down the street during her mandatory week off in August. I'd be all alone and would go insane. Lindsay's number one priority was to have an automobile so she could go on a road trip to somewhere exciting, like Vegas. I want to skurt-skurt off to The Strip and hang out with some cute guys.
But how would that be possible without a car? Why does nothing good ever happen to me? Life was so unfair. I'd leave this dump and snag a job at one of the Reno houses if it wasn't for Pamela. She's the only reason I'm still here.
Fuck you, Colt! I don't know why you hate me.
Being suspended was one thing (and Lindsay was convinced she did nothing to warrant it), but not yet having received a response from Sammy after the emotional e-mail she sent him yesterday afternoon was far worse. I wrote him over twenty-four hours ago! Why hasn't he written back? Is he mad at me for something too?
Lindsay picked up her smartphone and refreshed its mailbox again. Nothing, still! What the fuck? She slammed it back to the mattress.
Lindsay harbored some irrational thoughts of her own as she'd taken a strong liking to her first-ever client. Never mind the fact that forty years separated them and Sammy was married and lived 330 miles away in Salt Lake City, but Lindsay found herself in love with him.
He fucked her so long and hard three nights ago - like a real man should - and one of Lindsay's greatest fantasies was to be in a long-term relationship with a far more experienced, domineering lover.
Between their bouts of hardcore fucking, Lindsay and Sammy cuddled and talked in bed or the bathtub, or she was submerged on his lap, and they made out. He offered multiple lessons on how to give a blowjob and what men enjoyed most out of them. Sammy called me an overactive chatterbox and said I need a dick in my mouth at all times. He also fucked her in several unique positions.
Those were the most amazing three hours of Lindsay's young life, bar none. Her body had a desperate craving for more. It ached to be with Sammy again, his hands, his mouth, exploring everywhere; his hips slamming against her ass, his cock fucking her. Being with Sammy was beyond anything she'd experienced with her ex-boyfriend, Zack. This strong, dominant man had taken her, no questions asked, and bent her to his will.
"You are a bad girl, Kayleigh. You know that, I know that, and Pamela and Colt know that. It's why they hired you." At those words, Lindsay's gag reflex was being tripped as Sammy thrusted his cock all the way into the back of her throat, causing her to drool, and for her nose and eyes to run. Lindsay's body, her soul, her nature, was being turned upside-down. "You are the type of girl men like me will pay top dollar for. You can pretend that you're sweet, you're innocent, but both you and I know you need me to fuck you tonight much more than I need to fuck you myself. In all seriousness, you should be paying me."
What had this devilish creature done to her? Lindsay wanted Sammy. She wanted him so badly she considered typing out another e-mail and begging him to come visit her again. Or maybe I could go visit him in Utah instead during my week off? That would be dope. She wanted Sammy to hold her down, to pin her in place, even tie her to the bed. He had helped implant these thoughts by the nasty things he said. Lindsay wanted his dick in her - her mouth, her wet, squirting pussy, perhaps her virgin ass too. Let it hurt. I hope it does and I don't care if it's against the house's rules. She wanted Sammy to seize control, to own her in every sense of the word. Take me away, rescue me from my boring life and unappreciative boss, and make me your personal whore.
Lindsay trembled.
I've forever had the fantasy of having a Daddy Dom. An older, kind, benevolent man who'd protect me, guide me, shower me with love and affection, but also put me over his knee for a spanking and fuck the living shit out of me whenever he saw fit. I'd never say no or resist. I'd be at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day.
Lindsay slipped a hand beneath her purple G-string panties and twiddled at her clitoris with a pair of fingers. Oh, that feels delightful. Reclining on her side, sensations flooded her in waves as she pulled a knee to her chest and anchored it in place. "Please write me back, Sammy. Please!" She shifted her fingers to a more taboo, shameful spot, and rubbed away. Hmm, oh God. Could I ever admit to anyone I play with my anus every time I masturbate too? The speed of Lindsay's fingers increased, and with her opposite hand, she reached for her trusty, steel-encased dildo, and licked her lips in anticipation....
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Pamela forged a cheerful smile as she sashayed out to the front lobby wearing her trademark platform high heels at seven o'clock. Business had been booming today, though she'd only booked a single party herself. With a little luck, she'd have a few more before closing time.
Making money was never a bad thing.
"Hi Jim! May I have a Zevia, please?" She regarded him through the wayward curls dangling in front of her eyes. "Grape sounds yummy. The flavor, that is."
"What? Not a glass of Grey Goose?" Behind the bar, Jim couldn't miss the fruity, floral scent of Pamela's perfume as he retrieved her favorite brand of zero calorie, zero sugar cola from the cooler.
"No vodka for me tonight, no. You know I'm a light drinker and don't do it often." Pamela grinned and let her head fall back dramatically. "Besides, it always gets me into trouble when I do." She popped the top of the soda can and took a moderate sip. "Are you and Colt cool now? He still isn't upset over what happened the other night between Kayleigh and her customer, is he? Are you upset at him?"
"Nah, Colt and I are fine."
Clean and organize, organize and clean. The bar could get gross in a matter of seconds, but that would never happen with Jim on duty. He was constantly cleaning and making everything spotless. You're such a neat freak - I love it!
"Been friends and worked together too long not to be fine."
On a television monitor behind the counter, Pamela noticed the Baltimore Orioles were playing the Toronto Blue Jays at Rogers Centre. It was the tenth inning, and her hometown team was tied at a score of 7-7.
"Colt had every right to be angry and send me home without pay yesterday. I'm not upset. I should've never allowed Kayleigh to party with that guy." It was a mistake, but Jim would do better next time. "Colt reminded me no girl is to ever be disrespected here. But, you know, Kayleigh was adamant about partying with him. She wanted the money."
"Too much drama has been going on lately. I don't like it. Not one bit." Pamela glanced toward the opposite end of the bar and cracked a smile as Sahara and Riley, wearing their frilly little harlot outfits, were draped all over an older customer. The trio talked, laughed, and shared a bowl of peanuts. Soon, the brunettes would escort the gentleman back to their bedroom and negotiate terms for a threesome.
Pamela swiveled toward Jim and had a gleam in her eyes. "Looks like Nikki and Mallory are gonna have a profitable night, huh? Good for them." Sometimes, Pamela would refer to her fellow long-time working girls by their actual names too. She'd been on point so far today with Lindsay's name (for a change) and called her "Kayleigh" with anyone who had mentioned her. Heh. Colt says he's proud of me and I get a shiny sticker. Woo-hoo!
"Yeah. Business has been crazy this week and, knock on wood, let's hope it continues tonight and into tomorrow." Pamela and Jim were keeping their voices low so the budding triad at the end of the bar wouldn't hear them. "Still can't believe that dude from Detroit dropped almost seventeen thousand dollars."
"Me neither." How can I look the other way and ignore him like Scarlett insists I should? Charlie worked hard for that money and Pamela was grateful he spent most of it on her. "I still need to e-mail him. I'll do it in the morning."
Wanting to change the subject, as she'd worried enough about Charlie today, Pamela leaned closer. "You know, Jim, I was talking with Colt while we were at the hotel. I know it's in Pasadena and will cut into the holiday season, which is hit or miss for us here financially, but he and I have to go to Nikki and Mallory's wedding if they invite us. We have to." She shot one more glance their way. "Those two girls are so sweet, so chill, and they're so in love. It's beautiful." It was what Pamela had always dreamed of experiencing with another woman herself.
One like Kayleigh.
But if that were to happen, Pamela realized she'd have a major challenge trying to get Colt in on the fun too. He didn't mind Pamela seeing a woman on the side but had no interest in getting involved himself and making it a triad. He'd been through similar phases earlier in life and the idea didn't interest him anymore.
Granted, before he met Pamela.
Shouldn't I be happy my husband only has eyes for me and is the most loyal man alive? I've never even had a threesome with him. He always declines whenever I make the offer. How many men, especially in his position, would turn that down? Pamela had hit the proverbial jackpot, but still pushed through a heavy heart. I'd like the best of both worlds. Colt keeps talking about wanting to start a family. Yeah, yeah, okay, fine. Let's start a family with Kayleigh.
Am I being greedy? Selfish? Wishing for too much?
Jim settled onto a stool and downed his beer. "It is beautiful, I agree. I love seeing Sahara and Riley interact on a day-to-day basis. It's been since 1994 that we've had a legitimate, bona fide couple working here simultaneously like them. Other than you and Colt, of course." Jim grinned at the memories from days gone by. "Lisa Reich and Jenny McCormick. They quit and married each other too. But I remember a time when Colt was dating them... fucking them. Together. Lisa was like five years older than Colt, and Jenny, six months older, I think?"
Pamela arched her lips. "Oh yeah? Really?" Like her husband, she had no justification in becoming jealous. Selling sex is our livelihood. Besides, Lisa and Jenny were over two decades ago in Colt's past. "Those names ring a bell. Colt has mentioned them, and I've seen pictures. They were way before my time. But I didn't realize they were both older than him. Never knew that."
"Have you talked to Kayleigh at all?" Jim was now snacking on a bag of tortilla chips.
"Haven't seen her since this morning." Pamela bit back a groan. "I should stop by and visit her tonight."
"Took some food to her room about two hours ago. She's not in a good mood and is still pouty over getting suspended."
Pamela's stomach dropped. "You didn't tell Colt she's acting that way, did you?"
"Of course not. I know you'd beat my ass with a switch if I did."
Pamela tucked her feet underneath the high rungs of the stool and let out an audible sigh. "Good. Please, don't. Colt wanted to fire her yesterday because she sulks after being passed over in lineups."
"Aaliyah is furious she's still here."
"I pleaded with him: please don't fire Kayleigh. She's only eighteen and I see so much of myself in her from when I was that age. She's like a carbon copy and I want to help her. Kayleigh is a good girl and deserves a second chance. Everyone does." Pamela's words were sincere, shining through her cinnamon-colored eyes. "I didn't have another working lady back in the day who wanted to take me under her wing, so to speak, and show me how to succeed in this industry. How to be an adult."
"You had me!"
Pamela squared her posture. "Aww, Uncle Jim." That was her pet name for him because ever since her first day on the job, Jim had treated Pamela well. He'd given her tons of advice. Most of all, Pamela believed she would've never married Colt without Jim's help and guidance. Their relationship would've fallen apart in the early stages.
"You're such a sweet guy, Jim. You really are." She leaned forward, causing her formidable cleavage to push up and over her Happy Ending Ranch V-neck t-shirt. "You need to hook up with Kenzie. You know that, right? You two have been friends forever and you're in love with her."
Jim grimaced at those words, oblivious to Pamela's considerable charms. She was the boss's wife, but more importantly, she was like a daughter to him. Or the daughter he never had. Jim watched Pamela evolve from a rambunctious and impressionable eighteen-year-old to this amazing, considerate thirty-year-old woman who was the most kind and levelheaded person he had ever known. "Kenzie says I'm too old for her."
"Nonsense!"
Sahara, Riley, and their customer arose from the bar. Both ladies shot a glance toward Jim, letting him know it was time to negotiate, then smiled in unison and trotted down the corridor which led to their bedroom.
"Don't be shy, Walter. Put your hand on my ass. I like it," Sahara said in her ultra-sweet, outgoing voice.
