The Girlfriend Experience Ch. 12

Listen to me. The ramblings of a thirty-six-year-old man who lives alone with his two cats. I hope I don't sound pathetic to you.

>>> Girls like Scarlett and I (and the rest of us at Happy Ending Ranch) are here to make you smile and we're always willing to see you and make your day full of sunshine kisses. It's what we're here for.

Including Scarlett in our party was a mistake and I regret it. Please don't tell her I said that. I don't want to hurt her feelings. But if I could go back in time and change anything about our parties, I would've focused strictly on you. A threesome was a good idea at the time, I guess, but Scarlett turned out to be needless filler. There was zero connection and I got the sense after leaving and thinking things over she was bored and simply tolerated me.

I never had that sense about you. I now realize this is your job and you make every guy feel like a million dollars, but I don't care about that. I'm not thinking about that. I'm thankful to have met you and, no matter if I paid you or not, you gave me the greatest happiness I've ever experienced. Priceless, Pamela. That happiness is priceless and worth any amount of money.

Can we forget everything that happened after I left the ranch last Wednesday? You told me I was your second favorite client behind Lazerblade from the forums and I left on such a high note. I want us to pick up and go from there. I want you happy while we're together. I know we'll never be together for real now, but I at least want to be your favorite customer. I'll never ask or hope for anything to happen between us outside the house again.

I promise.

I need to respect the fact you're busy and cannot write me back all the time too. Again, same idea with my niece and the flowers. My sister scolded me for expecting an immediate call back. She said the same thing could apply with you, too, and maybe I blew everything out of proportion.

Pamela, I'm sorry for everything. Please, believe me.

I'll be flying into Vegas for my next vacation on Sunday, September 23, and landing before midnight. I'll drive straight to Flagstone and would like to stop and visit with you for a few minutes before closing time. In the morning, on the 24th, I want to see you at 10:00 and will purchase eight to ten hours of GFE time. I'd like to buy you lunch and do all the things we did last week (and more).

I hope that isn't too early for you. If it is, let me know, and I'll push the time back. Remember, I'm on East Coast time and 10:00 will be 1:00 to me.

Can you be there for me on September 24? Pretty please with icing on top? Depending on finances, I'd like to party with you another day or two as well. I'll have to see where I'm at moneywise.

I know I've changed my plans a couple of times, but I'm certain now with the 24th. I'll let you know about any additional dates should I be able to afford them. I'm not looking for an hour or two. I want all-day experiences. Anything less is unacceptable in my eyes.

I am so happy you wrote me back. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise to relax and take it easy from now on too. I want everything to be positive and for us to enjoy each other.

Love always, Charlie

* * *

"Sweetie, are you okay? You look pale."

Pamela McCarron's sluggish, watery eyes shifted from the laptop and focused on her husband, who was standing outside the doorway to the adjoining washroom. Colt was bare-chested and wearing a pair of black sweatpants that hung low on his slim waistline. In the darkened bedroom, Pamela still noticed the muscles and cuts of his broad chest. She took a moment to admire the image before clearing her throat and calmly answering, "I'm fine. Just got an e-mail from Charlie is all."

"Oh? What does Romeo have to say now?" Colt ran a towel through his freshly washed hair and strolled over to the king-sized bed that Pamela was relegated to. The forty-four-year-old cozied close and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "All good?" He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Dark eyes, a jaw chiseled and layered with his trademarked five o'clock shadow, a woodsy, masculine scent - exactly the way Pamela preferred him. Not to mention, of course, Colt's wet, tousled hair.

Sexy.

"Yeah, all good." Pamela closed her eyes and nestled her chin into the crook of Colt's collarbone, yet again relying on the peace and security that only his presence provided. Pamela hadn't led the purist of lives and had several things she wished she could take back and do over again herself, but one thing was for certain: I know I'm safe and cared for whenever Colt is with me.

"You have a good shower, baby?"

"Lonely shower."

She bit her lip. "I wanted to join you."

He traced his fingers down her side. "Then why didn't you?"

Colt's amazing, tender touch was a reminder that, at least for the time being, Pamela wasn't at the brothel. "Because I can barely walk." No customers to compete for and, if she was chosen, overexert herself to satisfy. I've had enough of that this past week. No possibility of being jarred awake from a much-needed nap because of the deafening blare of the lineup buzzer. I won't be selling another piece of my decency tonight. No having to deal with in-house drama and the cattiness of certain other working ladies. I still can't believe Aaliyah got angry at Lindsay and quit.

No, Pamela was 2,500 miles away and in her hometown of Fairfax, Maryland, and wouldn't return to Nevada for a minimum of two weeks. This is my haven and the best place for me. She was glad Colt asked her to step away from their professional personas and travel to the East Coast where they'd be close to friends and family alike. There is no need to be at the ranch with the shape my back is in now anyway. Best of all, it would provide a welcome change of pace, an opportunity for Pamela to be a normal person, to breathe, and contemplate the future and her options. Something that rarely happened anymore.

Fairfax encompassed the western shore of Hawk Cove and was a stone's throw from Rocky Point Park. A blend of residential, professional, and recreational development, Fairfax had evolved over the decades from a summer beachside destination to a year-round community that offered refuge from the bright lights of Baltimore. With all the benefits of "in town" urban living, the neighborhood maintained its "small town" feel. Downtown woke up with early morning exercise classes and sidewalk cafes stayed busy late into the night.

Pamela and Colt took a nonstop flight from Las Vegas yesterday afternoon and landed at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in Arlington, Virginia, just before midnight. They ordered an Uber and arrived some twenty-five miles north in Fairfax after one o'clock.

It was the first time they had been home in two months.

The cross-country journey posed its share of challenges as Pamela's back flared up midway through and she experienced varying amounts of discomfort the rest of the way. At one point, Colt lifted the armrest between their first-class seats and cradled her across his lap. She protested at first, feeling silly, but relented. Colt queued up some chillstep on his phone and popped one earbud into her ear and the other in his own.

"Close your eyes and rest, sweetheart." His voice was a whisper as his hand kneaded Pamela's lower spine. "Don't worry, I've got you. You're safe with me."

Later, her back locked up and she couldn't walk, so Colt pushed her through the airport in a wheelchair. Tears of frustration gave way to anger, and Pamela snapped at him in the terminal for no reason. Knowing moments like this would occur during her recovery, Colt took the outburst in stride, showing no reaction to it, and then held her hand and kissed it during their Uber ride home. "I love you. We're going to make it through this."

Pamela grew up and attended school in Fairfax and her parents still lived there today. She and Colt enjoyed dinner at the Prescott household earlier tonight and were joined by her two sisters, Paula and Candice, and several other family members as well, including her grandparents.

Compelled to fib, Pamela told everyone she injured her back during a hiking expedition at Mount Charleston. She came home to Maryland to be evaluated by Dr. Pietz, the physician she trusted most, but hoped to return to Nevada in mid-August with a clean bill of health. Pamela had no plans to tell any family member she was a prostitute and suffered the spinal fracture with a random john.

"Charlie wants an eight- or ten-hour party with me again at the end of September. Perhaps two or three long parties over several days, I don't know." She blew out a breath that seemed resigned. "Says he has to look at his money first."

Colt's right eye twitched and his brows furrowed. "Are you going to party with him again?"

Holding a cup of apple cider juice, she took a swig. "My back permitting, yeah, I am. Heck yeah." How could Pamela pass up, at the bare minimum, a $4,800 party? Hopefully, this orthopedist Dr. Pietz wants me to see puts me on the road to recovery and I'm healthy enough to party with Charlie in two months. "I cannot stand the thought of anyone feeling lonely." She emptied the glass and plonked it down onto the nightstand. "Yeah, yeah, I know - Charlie overdid it with the e-mail he sent last week, but the man is harmless. Totally harmless."

"I know you won't commit to seeing Charlie again until you receive the go-ahead from the surgeon," Colt said, "but perhaps it would be smarter to aim for one- to two-hour parties spread over several days instead of an all-nighter should you be medically cleared." He grasped her hands and kissed them one at a time. "Overdoing it is what got you into this predicament."

Pamela stared off into the distance before instead saying, "I don't understand Scarlett and her insistence I shut Charlie out and never party with him again. That may wreck his life. I mean, Charlie just spent all that money and lost his virginity. I try to make things extra special for older virgins. It would destroy him if I refused to see him again. That would be such a cruel thing to do. Cruel and short-sided." Pamela speared a cherry tomato from the nightstand and shoved it into her mouth. "He did nothing wrong except let his emotions bubble over and get the best of him."

"You know that telephone call from Charlie was surreal before leaving Flagstone yesterday." Frustration bubbled at Colt's face. "A grown man, all upset and crying, some two thousand miles away rambling on and on about how he thought he'd hurt you and you never wanted to see him again. Guy was going on about my wife and all I could do was sit there and listen to him."

"Thank you for not getting angry and ripping into him, telling him off, or saying I'm injured and may never work again." Pamela stroked two fingers from Colt's face down to his shoulders and chest. "I'm sorry that Charlie contacted you like that. Trust me, it'll never happen again. I'm going to reiterate that to him in my next message either tonight or tomorrow morning. He can't involve you again." Suddenly Pamela was frowning so hard that Colt was forced to reach out and smooth his thumb between her eyebrows. "I know that discussion was incredibly awkward for you."

"It was a first, that's for sure." Colt scrubbed his face with his other hand. "Another man gushing on and crying to me about my wife because, down deep, all he really wants is to have sex with her - you - again. Awkward, yeah. I thought I had seen it all in this business, but apparently, I haven't."

"I'm so sorry."

Colt pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You have nothing be sorry about. Not your fault."

"You've put up with so much shit over the years because of me." Pamela splayed her hands across the muscles of his abdomen. "From customers, I mean. It isn't fair."

"Comes with the territory, I'm afraid."

"It shouldn't."

"Relax. Don't worry about it." Colt guided her right hand to his chest and held it and massaged each of her fingers, her palm, her wrist. "It's part of the job. Some of these guys fall for girls like you when, in reality, you're all some of the most unavailable people on the planet. But they don't know that. They're unaware."

"You know something?" Pamela's gaze lifted. "I often struggle in the parties I have, both physically and mentally, especially as I'm getting older. But I always think about and focus on the immediate future, which is seeing you once the party ends. You, me, together again. You always give me a hug when the monger leaves, ask if I'm okay, if I need anything. You're so attentive. That's very sweet and it's appreciated." She sighed and trailed the back of her hand along Colt's chest. "Just the thought of seeing you again helps get me through every single party."

"You're not alone. I can't wait for each party to end either. I'm always looking at the stopwatch, counting down the minutes until I see you again." Even in this heartfelt exchange, every fiber of Colt's being was aching to be closer to Pamela, to hold her hand, embrace her, kiss her, even be inside her. Would those urges ever fade away? Colt couldn't imagine a reality where they would.

"I love the way you've always supported me." Pamela leaned upward and kissed him flush on the lips. "You're a unique man, I'd say, to have stood by me all these years and let me do... what it is I do."

"It's just business."

She nodded and exhaled a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "Thank you."

Although he wanted to lift the nightshirt from Pamela's body and toss it elsewhere, slip his arms around her waist and up her back, and enjoy the warmth of her flesh against his, Colt resisted. "You should lay down and rest." Mind you, he didn't want to resist. Colt wanted to bathe and luxuriate in Pamela's feminine charms. God, he wanted that. It had been too long since he had the opportunity. But, as usual, those damn alarm bells in his head won out. "Dr. Pietz wants you to relax for the rest of the week."

Pamela's smile dimmed. "I did overdo it earlier at Mom and Dad's, I think." She lay back on the mattress and settled her head into the pillow, again relegating herself to the so-called prison she'd have to endure over the next four or five days. "I wonder what's going on at the brothel right now." Pamela paused and held back a laugh. "Remember when I was younger, when we'd have our time away from the house, our week off each month, I'd always insist you're crazy to worry about the house the way you did. You were always on the phone with Jim talking shop, but here I am, being older now, and I'm equally worried about the house and how it's doing without us being there." Pamela's lips pursed. "I feel your pain."

"That house is our livelihood. It's why I worry so much. It took some time, yes, but you finally realized that."

Pamela grinned. "Maturity, right? But I still have no idea how you keep everything on the up-and-up."

"I have plenty of help. Jim, Mindy, Jenn, Francisco, you." Colt nudged alongside Pamela and played with the back of her hair, their faces a whisper apart. "I got a text from Jim while we were with your folks earlier. Hmm, your eyes are so pretty. Looks like Aaliyah is going to apply at Chastity's Ranch and they're interested in hiring her."

Pamela made a face. "Aaliyah? Good for her."

Like most owners of middle-of-nowhere, rural brothels, Colt and Pamela despised everything about Chastity's Ranch, particularly its management. Throughout LPIN, it was thought of as The Evil Empire, the largest and most successful brothel in the state, generating close to half a million dollars in sales per week thanks to its proximity to Las Vegas and all the free-spending tourists who came through.

Chastity's wasn't a house, per se. Rather, it was a large, sprawling resort with a full-service bar and restaurant, slot and poker machines, an 18-hole golf course, and separate lodging. It featured fifteen to twenty working ladies available round the clock and the going rate for a GFE generally started at $3,000 an hour. Themed areas for specialty parties included a locker room, a classroom, a doctor's office, the man cave, an S&M dungeon with implements and cages, the sissy's room, and various others. The grounds were immaculate, clean and sparkling, and everything was kept in tiptop condition.

But what small-time brothel owners hated most about Chasity's was its cutthroat business practices. Management had no pity, often poaching top earners from the rural houses with promises of more income and better living conditions. They told lies and spread false rumors and strived to put the little guy out of business. If it were up to them, Chastity's would forge an effective monopoly, a stranglehold over LPIN, and be the only option available.

Then they would jack their prices up even higher.

"Aaliyah had no right to curse and talk down to Lindsay the way she did the other day," Pamela said. "That poor girl has been through so much over the past week and didn't deserve to be spoken to in such a hateful manner. I'm glad Aaliyah and her bad attitude is gone."

Colt offered a single-shouldered shrug. "Everyone deserves to be treated with respect and dignity, Kayleigh included. Can't argue with you there."

Even in a weakened state, Pamela was gorgeous, only wearing Colt's favorite dress shirt and a pair of panties. Her hair was frazzled from an earlier nap and she sported little makeup. Colt attached his lips to hers and reveled in her sweet kiss, his gaze sneaking down and admiring the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric.

"I'm going to miss Lindsay while we're here in Maryland. I should call her and touch base tonight."

Colt pulled back and his eyes changed, almost like a different person had taken over inside of him. The ensuing confusion on Pamela's face only pissed him off more.

"What's wrong?" she said as Colt shoved away from the bed and paced. "What did I say?" Her back may have been sore, but dammit, Pamela could still screech with the best of them. "Why are you so against Lindsay, Colt?" Her ire rose. "What did she do to make you hate her so much?"

<> <> <> <> <>

"There must be something I can do to help." Jim Mayer leaned over Kenzie's shoulder and swiped a piece of broccoli from the salad she was mixing and popped it into his mouth. "Hmm, tasty."

Kenzie slapped his hand. "You want to help? Keep your grubby fingers out of the food!"

There wasn't any rage or animosity in Kenzie's voice, only good-natured ribbing. After all, it was too gorgeous of an evening for any negativity. Following an earlier rainstorm, the sun shone through the kitchen window of the brothel in Flagstone. Outside, steaks, burgers, chicken breasts, and other delights cooked on Colt's wood pellet grill. Business had been nonexistent so far today, so Jim and all the ladies banded together and decided to treat themselves to a buffet feast. Francisco was told to chill and let the others do the cooking for a change.

With Colt and Pamela in Maryland, wasn't it okay to take a few liberties with the house's daily food budget? Jim didn't think spending a little extra for a cookout would hurt anything. It wasn't like he did this often.

Not too often, at least.

Nicolette flipped turkey and beef patties on the grill she had commandeered from Riley and gave pointers to Lindsay while also tending to the other culinary goodies. Nicolette was a good person and Lindsay was starting to like her since they had been hanging out in recent days.

Sahara and Elisabeth were helping in the kitchen. Sahara was topping chocolate cupcakes with thick buttercream frosting and had an apron on which made her look like an expert chef. Elisabeth was putting the finishing touches on a batch of scallion baked beans. Kenzie had just finished dicing up apples and was blending them into a salad bowl.