The Girlfriend Experience Ch. 34

That particular bed, in room thirteen, meant something special to Lindsay too. That bed, more than anything, was home. Perhaps not home with a capital H as most individuals would associate the word with. No, Lindsay's heart wasn't there, no one had taken her in and given her shelter, nor did it have any sweet or sentimental value. She hadn't had a true home since leaving it two years ago.

But that bed, where Lindsay earned the bulk of her income at Happy Ending Ranch, did mean home to her. There, despite the debauchery and what the rest of the world may perceive of the dark lusts perpetrated on her, Lindsay felt herself more at home than she ever had before. In her little room stood that King-sized bed with the soft sheets, and though she allowed total strangers to do things to her in it that would horrify most women, those things made Lindsay happy - so happy that sometimes she felt like she would've done them even if there wasn't a massive chunk of change waiting on the other side of each party.

Well ... not really.

A middle-aged or perhaps elderly gentleman, frustrated with life, finding his wits hardly at his command from the pleasure Lindsay gave, taking him so deep into her throat that he felt on the verge of orgasm. The stranger would invariably ask her to ride him on the bed, then, reverse cowgirl style, but the action would ratchet up a notch (or three). They'd switch positions and Lindsay would find herself on her hands and knees, grasping the bedsheets as he thrust into her from behind with great abandon. "You like fucking, don't you, Kayleigh?" she recalled her final monger telling her - before the shutdown - without ceasing to hammer in and out of her pussy. Keith. "Yeah, lie still and take it. Lie still and take it, and I may give you a tip."

Snapping back to the current moment, Lindsay wondered if that cough or stickiness she felt her in her lungs could be attributed to the fact she didn't get enough sleep last night, thus she didn't feel well, or if it meant the onslaught of something far worse loomed on the horizon. I hope I'm not getting COVID too.

"Excuse me, miss. Could you tell me where the toilet paper is?"

Lindsay glanced up at the woman and dragged a smile from within (though hidden, of course, by her facemask). Toilet paper? How many people are going to ask me that insipid question tonight? God, I need to quit this place. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we're out of toilet paper." Perhaps you should've been here at six in the morning when people were lined up around the corner outside to buy it before the store opened. "Check back tomorrow."

No one would ever realize how alone Lindsay felt, one small, insignificant person in a world crumbling in panic all around her.

I want to go home.

Lindsay caught a glimpse of herself in a simple blue shirt and black work pants in the full-length mirror next to the cosmetics counter. Some prostitute she was. After yet another toxic night at the supermarket, barely making eleven bucks an hour, her plans tonight included binging more episodes of Game of Thrones via HBO Max on the sofa alongside Pamela. I love Pamela. I love Colt, too, because they've been so good to me.

But this life ... I need more. Dare she say it, but Lindsay found herself disinterested and spiritless living with an older married couple who, away from the brothel, were her polar opposites. Colt doesn't love me anywhere close to the way he loves Pamela. And all Pamela seems concerned with is reading books and making money with either her Etsy page or webcamming stream.

I'm just not feeling the vibes like I once did.

Lindsay considered calling her old friend from Happy Ending Ranch on her last break, Amelia (real name: Mia Flores), but discarded the idea before she'd picked up her phone. Lindsay and Amelia were the two youngest courtesans the house had to offer before lockdown and shared similar interests, and got along great, but things started to get a little weird between them once Amelia admitted to hooking up and moving in with Sammy. The pandemic is forcing people into desperate measures. And after an argument where Amelia insisted that Sammy wasn't the horrible person Lindsay claimed he was ... well, it was clear to Lindsay that her friend was gullible, just as she once was, and would have to learn things the hard way. I can't help Mia if she refuses to listen to me.

On the other hand, she sure is getting a lot more dick right now than I am. Lindsay's head wagged back and forth in frustration. I hate Maryland as much as I hate Citronelle.

Whipping out her phone, Lindsay queued up Happy Ending Ranch's website and scanned her inbox with a raised eyebrow. Seventeen new private messages since she last checked at noon. Followers of the Kayleigh Legion were nothing if not loyal and inquisitive, asking for any update on both the brothel's future and her own life. Cute of them. It was part of the package deal that came with being a finalist for Courtesan of the Year. I can't believe I was nominated. Preferred clients like Darius, Javion, and Ryker wanted to interact with Kayleigh and feel like they were in her world, just as they had been in her body - particularly her vagina - multiple times.

Yeah, can't do it. Lindsay sighed and closed the window. Kayleigh is so much more interesting and fun than Lindsay, isn't she? The twenty-year-old would answer her messages later tonight. Lindsay is a dumb, pathetic girl who alienated her entire family and has a garbage job in a garbage town. She'd keep her loyal clients hungry with a reply for when (or if) the brothels reopened. The governor says our industry is nonessential; we are at the bottom of the totem pole, and I'm afraid COVID may be Nevada's answer to finally keeping the brothels closed forever.

A dismal frown forged itself across Lindsay's face. I need my job, my reason to live, back.

She tapped the phone and opened her main e-mail inbox, the same one she'd used for the past eight years. Lindsay had received a message - an offer - from a certain someone in her past almost a week ago and had been contemplating it ever since.

From: Phalen, Benjamin

To: Anastacio, Lindsay

Sent: July 5, 2020, 11:19am EST

Subject: Come visit me

Lindsay -

Hey, slave girl, how are you? I hear how you're struggling and COVID has you down. I'm willing to up my offer to $30,000 in cash if you would travel to Utah and spend three days (72 hours minimum) with me. I can even arrange for you to fly on a private jet if that makes you more comfortable. It's been well over a year since we last saw each other at the Tuesday night gangbangs and I STILL wonder what it would be like to play with you one-on-one. I promise there won't be anyone - no Marvin, Jeff, Sam, Eddie, Trent, Rick, certainly no Mike - other than me.

Just keep in mind that if you agree to this, I will be very hard on you, I'm afraid, much harder than anyone ever has been before. I am saying this because I want you to know it and not be surprised.

But I have a feeling you could handle that, am I right?

At the same time, know that you will be safe and cared for, and I will respect your boundaries.

Take a few days to think about this if need be. Whatever schedule works for you works for me. It would be my honor to help and provide for you in these uncertain times.

-Sincerely, Master Ben

"Lindsay!"

Eyes wide, she swung her body to the right side.

"If I catch you on your phone one more time," George Warden, the supermarket's manager, said while jutting a finger in her direction, "you can gather your things and go home, because you'll be fired. You are here to work, not waste time on your phone, and I want you to do your job. This is your final warning, young lady."

Lindsay's hands squeezed into fists as her so-called boss turned away. Fuck this place and everyone in it. She snorted through her nose. "Hey George, you don't need to fire me, because I quit."