The Girlfriend Experience Ch. 10

And Colt groped me during my interview as well. Not that I found what he did offensive, though.

"Sahara is a sweet girl. Would give anyone the shirt off her back if they needed it." Jim's expression plunged into a mope. "But she loses all her senses and becomes unruly when drunk. Please, can you forgive her? Neither she nor Riley can handle their alcohol."

Then why did you allow Jenn to take them to a bar? A whizz of air escaped from Lindsay's lips. "I know. It's okay. It'll pass." And Sahara will apologize in a couple of hours, I'm sure. She was similarly blitzed on Lindsay's first day here, too, and apologized for her behavior once sobering up.

A small, grateful smile touched Lindsay's lips. "Thanks for saving me, Uncle Jim. Sahara was getting aggressive." And now she knows about my Daddy Dom fetish, and I hope she doesn't tell the entire house about it.

"Anytime. Sometimes, I have to police the girls here more than I do the customers. I'll have a talk with Sahara, as well as Riley, later tonight. They need to stop teasing you. I promise you'll never hear either of them talk that way to you again. You have my word."

"I'd appreciate that."

Jim's head inclined to one side. "You haven't had the best day. Not with Pamela going to the hospital and what happened with Aaliyah, have you? Everything okay, Kayleigh?" His tone turned deeper. "Lindsay? You okay, hon?"

She sniffed her nose. Indeed, it had been a horrendous day. In more ways than one. "I guess I'll live."

"We'll talk about it later. Just you and me." Jim's smile was soft, reassuring. "I gotta go deal with Sahara now."

"Okay." Jim is such a chill guy, and along with Pamela, has been so helpful since day one. Always willing to sit down and lend a sympathetic ear.

Kenzie has been super helpful as well.

Why can't Colt be that way too? He's the boss, and I so want to please him - make him happy, gain his approval - but all I've done thus far is dissatisfy him. I know I've made some mistakes, but I'm trying my best.

He's sooooo kind to Pamela, and it makes me jealous.

Once Jim stepped away, and assured she had her privacy, Lindsay opened the laptop and retrieved her e-mail to Sammy. She added the final two sentences and began the proofreading process.

From: Anastacio, Lindsay

Sent: (Draft)

To: Sodomy, Sammy

Subject: 16 days and counting down!

Sammy :O -

Hi there! I'm sorry I haven't been able to e-mail you in the last couple of hours (I loved our constant back-and-forth this morning!). I should have expected life in a brothel would be different and unlike anything I've ever known.

But before getting into all the gory details, you'll be happy to know Pamela is back home from the hospital and resting. She said it was nothing too bad - a mild back sprain - and she plans on returning to work later in the week, or next week at the latest. The doctor has her on pain meds now and she is out of it. I was worried for a while, but she promises it is nothing to fret about. So, I feel better.

You know how much I love Pamela. She is the perfect woman, both inside and out.

And you are the perfect man! :O

As for the bad news, Aaliyah got into it with Colt once he and Pamela returned home. Aaliyah wasn't happy about me still having a job and let Colt know it. No one knows for sure, but that's the rumor floating around the house. There was a bunch of screaming (behind closed doors) and Aaliyah quit. She packed her stuff and walked out, but not before calling me a nasty cunt and saying she hates me, and hopes I die.

I do not know what Aaliyah's problem is and why she is so against me. I tried apologizing to her last night for whatever it was I did wrong (I know: my reactions after being passed over in lineups early in the week), but she was having none of it. I am glad Aaliyah quit but worry about my job. I know Colt isn't happy about losing a four-year employee like Aaliyah over someone who has been here less than a week. Riley told me last night Colt wanted to fire me, but Pamela talked him into giving me a second chance. Riley also said Colt never gives second chances to a turnout.

I'm sure you know the term: a turnout in this line of work is a new hire.

For what it's worth, I tried talking to Colt an hour ago when he passed by in the hallway. But he was on his phone and said we will talk later tonight. I admit it: I'm frightened.

I talked to Pamela, and she assured me I have nothing to worry about jobwise. Promised she'd never allow anything bad to happen to me here and said Aaliyah quit because of a scheduling dispute. That is a lie; I know it! Everyone does. Maybe Pamela is trying to protect me? I'm not sure, but she told me to keep doing my job like I did yesterday (five hours of partying - top $$$) and everything will be fine.

All the girls left here are likable. Nicolette wants to hook up later so we can talk, get to know each other, and maybe have a make-out session. Or more? How has Nicolette been toward you? She told me she way prefers girls over guys. Kenzie, Sahara, and Riley are so sweet. But I'm uneasy because the weekly shift change is tomorrow. Scarlett is going home to Cincinnati for a week while Elisabeth and Mariko are coming back from break. I've never met them. What if they don't like me either? I guess you know both reasonably well, huh? You've been to the brothel so many times. Scarlett is a cool gal and I'll miss her until she comes back to work next week.

I desperately want to work here and love this job, but hate being the centerpiece of a firestorm. I've had more drama in the past five or six days than I've had in my entire life combined. Ever since I was little, I've tried to be courteous toward others. I'm not accustomed to people treating me like Aaliyah did and that evil customer (Eric) I had.

I'm sorry if it seems like I'm pushing all my problems on you. I know you're busy in Utah and have your own issues. I feel like venting my frustration is all. If it's too much, please let me know, and I'll never mention any issues again.

Sammy, did you notice I'm writing to you from my personal e-mail address like you suggested? Not the ranch's? I've had this e-mail for like four or five years and it's my primary one. You are correct in saying that me using this account to communicate lessens the chance of us ever getting caught. I'm not sure even Pamela could protect me if Colt found out I'm planning to see a client outside work. I would be canned in a hurry.

Though I've had a lousy day, I've been thinking about you nonstop, and it has made me feel better. I'm so happy you're willing to meet me on Tuesday the 9th at the airport hotel in Salt Lake City. In addition to the friendship you're showing me, all your concern and kindness, plus your support, I must admit that I have an incurable craving for your dick. :) I want to be OWNED by it. The emptiness I feel without you is unbearable! We'll make the most of our time together.

If you're interested, we can expand our date to two or three days too. Or do you think of it as a booty call instead? (I don't mind if you do!). Let me know if you're interested. I'd spend the entire week with you, but I know that isn't possible.

I don't want this to be a one-time thing either. I'd like for it to continue. I have a full week off every month and would love to visit you in Utah as often as possible. No one in your family has to know (wife, kids, grandkids, etc.) and no one I work with has to know either. It can be our sexy little secret!

I repeat: I will NEVER charge you or expect any type of money or gifts. I am not showing up as Kayleigh the prostitute. I'm showing up as Lindsay Anastacio, an oversexed, happy, giggly girl from Citronelle, California, who wants you to fuck her silly.

Perhaps I should pay YOU this time? :)

Throughout our dialogue today, I've neglected to ask about you. How are things in Utah? You doing okay? How is your job? You must be super busy being the CEO of Gradiph Pharmaceuticals. I have so many questions and would love to sit down and talk one day, but fully realize if we're alone, in a hotel room, we won't be spending much time telling each other about our respective lives.

I want you to know I think about you a lot and wonder what you're doing throughout the day. I'm so interested in everything about you. Are you happy with your job? I know the pay must be sweet as a CEO. My fantasy is to give you the mental and physical stimulation you deserve.

I'm so happy you're in my life, Sammy. I don't know how or why this happened, but it's amazing, and things will only get better as time moves on. I LOVE the fact you're forty years older than me and have so much experience, so much wisdom, to share. I'll be your naughty, buttfucked student! I've always found older men to be ridiculously sexy and cannot wait until you and I are together again. I miss you like crazy!!!

Love, Lindsay (NOT Kayleigh!)

<> <> <> <> <>

"I want to take all Pamela's pain, all her worries and fears away. I want to switch places with her and be the one in that fucking bed myself. She doesn't deserve this." Elbows on the desk, Colt clutched his head with both forearms and stared up at his best friend. The emotional strain had taken its toll on him today too. "That woman is my world, my everything. What can I do to help her?"

"The same thing you've always done," Jim said in an emphatic tone. "Love her, support her, be there for her. No one does it any better than you, bud."

Colt pushed to his feet and paced the brothel's office. "Pamela has always had that unflappable will, nothing fazes her, and she's the strongest person I know, yet she's scared witless right now. I must be there for her. I will be there, even if it means stepping away from the brothel either temporarily or even permanently."

"Listen to me, Colt. Do what you have to do. Both you and Pamela are more than welcome to stay at my place so she can rest without all the constant noise and commotion we have here. I have a duplex and I'd give one half of the house exclusively to you and her for as long as you'd like."

"I appreciate it, Jim. I really do, but I'd like for Pamela to go home to Maryland for a while once the pain subsides so she can be closer to family."

"Maryland is the best place for her, with you. Take all the time you need, brother. I'll hold down the fort here in Flagstone. Don't worry about city council and their mandate you be here a certain amount of time each month either. Explain the situation to Mayor Bradley and he'll grant you an exemption. He's a reasonable man."

"I'm not worried about that." Colt sneered. "Dafuq? A broken back? My wife has a broken back! She's never going to work in the house again."

"You're not alone in this, Colt, and neither is she. I'm here for both you and her, as is every employee we have. All of us love Pamela, we love you, and we're praying for her. Don't worry, everything will be all right in the end."

Once Jim stepped out of the office to tend to customers, anger swirled within Colt. He'd been dealing with it ever since Pamela confessed something during the ride home from Valley City this afternoon. Fucking Charlie! Pamela believed she suffered her injury during the initial party with Charlie on Tuesday afternoon.

"Charlie was trying to fuck me in the spooning position, but with him being inexperienced, it was awkward, unconventional. He was throwing his weight around and I remember something popping in my lower back. It hurt like a motherfucker, but I blocked it out and finished the party."

It made sense because Pamela had been favoring her back ever since. I knew something was wrong with the way she's been limping around all week. But I didn't realize it was this bad. Suffering from fibromyalgia and degenerative arthritis in her spine, Pamela had dealt with daily aches and pains for years. But nothing like this.

I should've never let her party yesterday with five different clients over an eight-hour span. Not with the way she was struggling. Agreeing to cowgirl sex (something Pamela had always found uncomfortable) with Gabriel in the overnight hours proved to be the death knell for her back, the final nail in the coffin. She collapsed on the way back to her bedroom once Gabriel left. I should've called for the ambulance immediately. Having several hours of sex with that dumb twit Kayleigh the evening prior added to Pamela's unfortunate predicament too.

Could Colt place the blame on Charlie, of all people, for what happened? Would that be fair? He was an uncoordinated virgin who didn't know what he was doing. Pamela said Charlie was all over the place in both parties and came close to smothering her on multiple occasions. She had to tell him to get off her so she could breathe.

Perhaps, Colt thought, someone else was to blame. Someone much more at fault than Charlie could ever be.

Pamela has been with well over three thousand guys in the past twelve years, easy. Colt estimated she had sex with repeat clients at least a thousand times more. And that doesn't include all the times she's been with me and her lady friends here in the house. That type of sex life, such strain, wasn't healthy.

How could I let Pamela fuck three thousand guys while I tend bar fifty feet away or sit on my butt here in the office and watch sports like it's the most normal thing in the world to do? Colt's head trembled. You're a fucking horrible husband, man, and you don't deserve a woman like Pamela as your wife.

So many times, he had witnessed girls suffer massive breakdowns from the demands of this job. Sex work ate at their soul, their body, and continued to do so long after they were gone. Yet he allowed Pamela to fuck every Tom, Dick, and Harry who came knocking for the last twelve years. There was no screening process for any of them, other than a chat at the bar, and no restrictions on who Pamela would party with. She didn't want any restrictions. No, Pamela wanted to be the one working lady at Happy Ending Ranch who took on all comers. She prided herself on being nonjudgmental and refused to let the way a person looked, their weight, ethnicity, or physical and/or mental disabilities impact her willingness to agree to a party. And she wouldn't turn down any bizarre fetish request, either, as long as the law permitted it.

Look where being nice and fulfilling fantasies for those three thousand guys got her - a broken freakin' back!

Yeah, man, you're the problem. Not Charlie, not Gabriel, not anyone else. Colt was the one who helped mold Pamela into the picture-perfect courtesan, a monger's wet dream. You have no one to blame for what happened but yourself.

He had the chance to nudge Pamela out of the industry in 2007 once they became engaged. She would have her graduate's degree by now and be working in the medical field. Instead, he was a selfish sonofabitch, convincing Pamela to stay at the house so she'd be around him twenty-four/seven. Back then, Colt liked the idea of Pamela having sex with others, but always returning to him at the end of the night. It was a terrible phase and one I'm happy I grew out of.

I wish we lived a normal life with normal jobs and had a normal house in the suburbs. I wish we had kids and our nieces and nephews came over every weekend and played with them. If that were the case, there'd be no mongers like Charlie to deal with, no Sammy, no Darius and, best of all, no Lindsay. That little shit irritates the piss out of me. Hiring her was a mistake, one I'd like to take back. She has designs on Pamela and wants to steal her away from me.

What was the next step after this tragic incident? I wish we would sell the damn brothel to my cousin and move to Maryland and start over fresh. Build new careers from the ground up. The brothel would fetch a pretty penny - a couple hundred thousand dollars, at least - but Pamela would never allow him to sell it. She always reminds me that Dad opened the house in 1972, gave it to me after his passing, and it's my duty to continue his legacy. Pamela also insisted that one day, Colt hand the business over to his own son. Heh, if we ever have one.

Three thousand guys, man. Think about that.

You let this happen. ...

* * *

As she lay in bed and bounced in and out of sleep, the medication making her dizzy and numb, Pamela had time to process the news she had been given earlier. It was time to acknowledge it, accept it, and only then could she come up with a game plan. I don't care what the doctor says. There's no way in hell I'm letting this end my career.

How about a second opinion? Or a third? Even a fourth? Some physician had to out there who wouldn't predict all doom and gloom like this guy did, right? All she had to do was find him (or her). I question if that ER-Doc knew what he was talking about. He's no back specialist.

I'm going to be smarter with my clients from now on. Pamela would set strict ground rules like other courtesans did on how rough mongers were permitted to be with her. Sessions would be slower and less hectic. She would keep careful tabs on her back from now on too. I can take extended breaks between parties and set a hard daily limit. It was her back, her body, and she would manage it better. I know my limitations. I got this. No one, especially some hick doctor in Valley City, of all places, would tell her what to do and how to live her life. If he was any good at his job, he would be working in a city like Vegas.

Colt wasn't going to deter her from returning to work either. I won't allow him to control me. His tendency to be overprotective could be annoying. No one worried about her more, but most of the time, it was unwarranted. Colt can be such a drama queen when it comes to my health. I'm an adult and can take care of myself.

Most of all, jumping to a rash conclusion like retirement wasn't the answer. I have to work. Selling sex is all I know. Pamela couldn't admit defeat so soon. I'm fine. I can walk now ... sort of. Colossal paydays with Charlie in September and Corey in November were looming. They'll spend thousands and thousands of dollars on me. How could I turn them away? They'll listen to me if I ask them to take it easy. Injuries and discomfort were part of the job. Time heals all wounds, even a fractured spine. Life was full of challenges that needed to be faced head on and Pamela would add this one to the list.

I'll be perfectly fine and working again in no time flat. ...

(End of Chapter Ten - to be continued)