Topic: Here Goes Nothing

Private Message to: Pamela_HER

From: ChazWazzle

Here Goes Nothing

Sent: July 20, 2018, 6:14am PST

Dearest Pamela,

Another message from me! I promise I won't keep bombarding you like this. I know you're busy and don't want to be a nuisance. But I've done a lot of research on brothels and the women who work at them since our date, and I'd like to apologize if I said or asked you to do anything which was offensive or out of your comfort zone (same goes for Scarlett and I'll send her a similar apology). Most working ladies HATE their job and do it strictly for the money, and I know you've been doing this for twelve long years. We're from different ends of the spectrum, so PLEASE remember this. I was a virgin until age thirty-six, just three days ago, and wanted to try so many things with you. I have no experience and you, I now realize, have too much.

There is no way you enjoy your job the way you say you do. No way. I've read all about courtesans and how they do certain things during parties to survive and make it to the end in one piece. I am glad you're not a heavy drinker and refuse to touch drugs like others do.

Still, you must be desensitized. I remember Scarlett drinking alcohol nonstop during our party. I understand why now. She did that to cope with the stress, right? I feel guilty now for asking for so much from the two of you.

I will not use my masturbator toy and think about you at night like I said I would. That was stupid to say and offensive. I told you I often speak without thinking and am disgusted with myself now. And I'm being truthful, Pamela. I won't think about you that way again.

I was just being honest with what I said.

That's me. Honest to a fault.

I meant what I said halfway through our first party on Tuesday, too – I would have been happy to snuggle and do nothing but talk for the rest of it. But I'm a man with urges and won't have sex again until I see you at the end of September – such a long time out after the joy I experienced. That's why I kept going. I was living in the moment but now realize perhaps you weren't, and that troubles me like you wouldn't believe.

I'M NOT UPSET! You (and Scarlett) still receive a 5,000-star review regardless, and I still want to come back in the future. I'm serious, I want you to be happy and comfortable. Next time, if you'd simply like to cuddle and talk (you seemed to enjoy that the most) and keep our clothes on most or all the time, I'd be happy to oblige. We don't even have to have sex! I'll still purchase as many hours as I can. Perhaps I'll keep you away from a rude client (you said you have many of those) and treat you with class, dignity, and respect, unlike him. You deserve the best! Let the other client see someone else.

I care about you, Pamela, more than you’ll ever know.

You said you have time off coming up in three weeks and have the freedom to go wherever you want. Please consider visiting me in Detroit. We could be platonic friends. You may be apprehensive because I'm a customer, but I know in my heart I could make you happy. You told me you're one hundred percent single. I wouldn't expect anything physical from you. You could come here and relax for a few days in a new place with someone who is non-judgmental and cares about you. I know you'd love visiting the Motown Museum and the riverfront. You love animals as well and would enjoy the zoo and Belle Isle Aquarium.

Do you know how enjoyable it would be for me to go to these places with someone? Everything I do, I do alone. It’s not fun. People were together at my cousin's wedding last weekend. People were together on the flight I was on. Me? I'm all alone.

Your company would be well more than enough. I wouldn't lay a finger on you.

Everyone wants love, Pamela, and I know you do as well. You know you can trust me. At least, I hope you do. I want to be loved. I want to do silly things like the Beavis and Butthead dance and have fun with someone who cares about me equally. I may be all wrong (and probably am) but I felt so close to you. I sensed a connection with loads of potential. Please don't discredit me because I'm a customer.

Colt, Jim, Scarlett, your friends Kayleigh and Nicolette, and all the other employees would never have to know about us. I'd never do a thing to jeopardize you or your career.

We seem like the perfect match. I want someone sweet and heavenly and friendly and caring. You want someone who won't judge you, wants to care about you, and treats you the way you deserve. All working ladies want that, right? You mentioned to me that true love has always run away from you because of your profession.

I'm here right, Pamela. And I want to run TO YOU, not away from you.

I'm not asking you to do anything but consider my offer. We can do this in small, incremental steps, and I'd never pressure you. That's why I'd like you to visit me first. I imagine you've been searching for love for quite a while, like I have, and I can give it to you. Will I need to change things about myself, improve myself? Yes, I will. And I will. I promise. I'll do it for you.

Keep your job at the brothel, continue to save money for your future. I have no issue with you working there. If everything pans out, I'll quit my job and move to Nevada or Miami so you and I could be together full-time. I'd do it in a heartbeat.

I'm going to shut up about you visiting me and won't mention it again unless you do. There is a genuine opportunity for us here. I may be wrong; you may feel different. I can handle it if you do. You won’t hurt my feelings as long as whatever you say is the truth.

I will pull myself back if you're not interested. Please don't take this the wrong way and never want to see me again. You're so precious. I'll still come to Flagstone if that is all you allow and I'll treat you a million times better next time. I want you to relax, feel safe, and have an experience like you've never had with a customer. Lunch, cuddle, and talk. I enjoyed all the sex we had; I admit it, but enjoyed YOU more.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, don't push yourself away from me if you don't like what I'm saying or offering. It would destroy me. Brothel Pamela is better than no Pamela. Again, being honest – what I am – I want Pamela's heart to be mine if she'll allow me to have it. I will cherish it, worship it, and always defend it. I want to give Pamela what she's always been yearning for.

If she affords me the opportunity. …

Please consider it.

If not, I'll never mention it again.

Love always, Charlie

*

“Oh. My. Gawwwwwd.” Scarlett placed her hands over her mouth and stepped back from the laptop monitor. “Wowwwww.” She wheeled around and focused on Pamela, who was seated at the backgammon table in the recreation room, her mouth open, no words leaking from her twitching lips. “I told you last night, girl, Charlie is a creeper! He sent you fourteen e-mails in less than thirty-six hours before you’ve responded to him once.” Scarlett skimmed through the private message on Pamela's Happy Ending account one more time. “Wow. He's fucking obsessed with you.”

Despite appearances, Pamela pushed through and shrugged it off. “I don't think Charlie is obsessed.” He's lonely and emotional. With a little time, Pamela trusted he’d calm down and come back to his senses. “I agree, he went overboard, but it happens sometimes.” She tucked both hands beneath her thighs and glanced up at Scarlett with a fretful gaze. “This isn't the first time a customer has fallen for me.”

It threw Pamela for a loop an hour ago when she first read the latest in a never-ending stream of e-mails from Charlie Winters. The possibility of having a stalker in this industry was a grim, dark reality, and a constant fear for every working lady. I have no issues connecting with a client on a personal level, but it makes me nervous when they ask to see me outside of work. That's never going to happen.

Pamela’s hands trembled. “I’ll take some time later and sit down, send Charlie an e-mail, and set him straight.” Her stomach pitched and rolled. “He doesn't understand the way things work here, or our world. That's all.”

“I'd be scared shitless if a customer sent me a message like that.” After the initial shock of reading the e-mail, Scarlett kept her distance from the laptop as if were a burning oven. “Holy fuck. If I were you, Pam-Pam, I'd ignore him from now on. Don't say another word to him.” Intensity radiated from her. “Block his e-mail address and refuse to party with him if he ever comes back to the house. Ask Colt to ban his account. Hell, ask Colt to call the sheriff if he ever comes back and have his creeper ass arrested for trespassing.” Scarlett’s high ponytail swished from side to side as she shook her head with conviction. “I'll never see him again myself; not after reading that.”

The expectation for all brothel customers, though an unwritten one, was to understand a working girl's professional and private lives were to be kept separate. That was why exchanging personal information violated house rules. Not only at Happy Ending Ranch, but at every brothel in Nevada, period. No house would ever allow it.

The idea behind visiting a brothel was it's an adult playground where a customer can live out a fantasy. The client can lose his or her virginity in a safe environment, for example, where they won't be ridiculed (not to their face, at least).

Or perhaps a married man who has been with his wife for what may seem like forever can come to one and spice things up and add a little excitement to his routine, boring life. A married couple wants to try a wild, crazy adventure and enjoy a threesome. Maybe a bachelor hopes to improve his game.

Or, the most common reason, someone wants to get their rocks off with a gorgeous, highly skilled lover.

“I've never seen a trick go after a working girl this hard and heavy.” Scarlett cast a vicious glare at Pamela. “These fuckers need to realize brothels are not where you go looking for your next wife or girlfriend. This isn’t Tinder. We’re not lonely and desperate like they are.”

Pamela crossed her arms. “But that has happened before, Scarlett, and it's led to successful real-life relationships and marriages. You know it has. It's rare, but I've heard stories about girls who've fallen in love with a client and left the business to be with him full-time.

“We had a girl here eleven, twelve years ago, in fact, who had a loyal, recurring client. Her name was Brindle,” Pamela continued. “The client, Kevin, lived clear across the country but would still come to visit her every two to three months. He'd been doing it for years, long before I started working here. And Brindle was the only girl he was ever interested in seeing.

“Anyway, one day, Brindle took Kevin to her room for a party. It was like the dozens of times they'd partied together in the past. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

“But a few hours later, they walked out with all her bags packed and Brindle told Colt's father, William, that she was quitting the house and moving off to North Carolina to be with her john. They were getting married.” Pamela witnessed the exchange firsthand and smiled at the fond, touching memory. She and Colt were dating, and Brindle's stunning declaration gave Pamela added hope a bona fide relationship could materialize within a brothel and manifest itself into something spectacular. “Apparently, they’d been planning it through e-mail and text messages for a long time. Last I heard, Brindle and Kevin are living the high life near Charlotte. They're married and have two children.

“Point is, I guess, clients aren't the only ones who fall in love when they visit a brothel. Sometimes the provider does too. I know of stories about the same thing happening in other houses as well.” I remember that day well. William was pissed. Not only did he lose one of his best girls, but also a high-spending customer too. Oh, he was angry. Pamela went back to her bedroom and hid there out of fear.

The next day, William had a tech company come out and install microphones all throughout the house so every provider-client interaction could be monitored and recorded from that point forward. Strict rules for interactions with customers were added and vowed to be enforced, unlike before, through constant monitoring.

Nowadays, about a third of those microphones need replacing. They still work, but some not as well as others. Colt has been looking to upgrade the entire system and I hope it's done by year's end.

Inexplicably, Scarlett somehow ignored all those words about Brindle and Kevin. She was far too immersed in the e-mail and paced about next to the table. “I think I have it bad with Randy, that fat-ass who comes to party with me every month and talks about marriage, though he doesn't really mean it, but he ain't got nothin' on this guy. Charlie picked you out of a lineup three days ago!” Sweat beaded Scarlett’s forehead and she dabbed at it with a tissue. “He didn't even know you existed until then.”

Did you hear a word I said, Scarlett?

“And now, three days later, he sends you this?” Her jaw ticked and her eyes cut to the monitor, then back to Pamela. “He must be really fucking hard up and lonely. Mentally deranged too. You're the first girl who was ever nice to him, I bet, and he thinks you should drop everything and go visit him. Marry him, too! Wow … some people.” She put her hands on her hips and spoke with a deadly calm. “What a miserable loser. A fucking nerd who’ll never experience pussy again unless he pays for it.” Her lips pressed into a firm line. “And Detroit? Detroit? Who the fuck wants to go to Detroit anyway?”

“He's not deranged. It's okay, Scarlett. God, lighten up, will you?” Pamela flexed her fingers repeatedly. “You're always so cynical and distrusting of people.” Charlie is such a good guy, an incredible guy. He doesn't mean any harm. But he doesn't know any better either. She took a slow breath to dispel all this negativity. “To tell you the truth, I don't mind his e-mail.”

Pamela dealt with older virgins like Charlie – truly vulnerable men – regularly. This isn't anything new.

Like most seasoned sex workers, Pamela was an expert at drawing her clients in and distorting the lines between fantasy and reality. Virgins like Charlie don't have the experience to realize there’s a line to begin with. Everything became blurred and they wound up with irrational thoughts and ideas and, worst of all, expectations.

It was Pamela's job to make her tricks feel love, to feel special and cared for, but they also needed to understand they were paying for a service.

It. Wasn’t. Real.

And once the service was over, whether it lasted thirty minutes, an hour, or fourteen-and-a-half hours, it was over. That was the unwritten rule every customer was expected to understand. The service didn’t extend beyond the walls of this house.

Sure, like many of the other ladies, Pamela kept in contact with her regulars through the website, but that didn't mean she wanted anything to do with them in the “real world.” I have a husband and love him very much. Her sole purpose in being active on the bulletin board was to help promote Happy Ending Ranch – she was the co-owner, after all – and attract new and returning clients alike for herself. Colt says the bulletin board is the best, most potent advertising campaign we have. It’s why I check it eight to ten times a day and am always posting and responding to private messages. Relationships, even camaraderie, could be forged before a face-to-face meeting took place.

“Stuff like that, it doesn't spook me. I have thick skin.” Pamela stood before Scarlett, putting an end to her frantic pacing. “I mean, think about it: Charlie is thirty-six and has been alone his entire life. He went on and on to us about how lonely he is and how he wishes things were different. His story made me cry. Lost his virginity and spent an entire night getting pampered by two women who submitted to his every whim.” Of course, he is going to be high-strung and say something he may not mean. “The man went through a life-altering experience, the most enjoyable experience he's ever had.” Her shoulders slouched. I understand his reaction. He’s only human, and truth be told, I led him on. It’s what we do here as sex workers. “People can become emotional, go overboard. Overreact. It’s okay.”

Scarlett grabbed Pamela’s arm. “So, you're saying a customer sending you an e-mail like this doesn't concern you? Scare you? Because it sure as hell would scare me.”

It concerns me to an extent. I had my initial reaction, and it wasn't good. But … “Considering who sent it, no. No, it doesn't. Charlie wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Pamela differed from most courtesans and had her own unique way of looking at and dealing with things. She possessed a keen fascination for the human mind, hence her major being Psychology, and its behavior. Pamela characterized herself as having an INFP personality, meaning she was an eternal optimist who looked for the good in everything, and even in the worst of people and situations. She was caring and compassionate and encouraged others to be the same way.

Pamela's easygoing, live-and-let-live attitude came naturally, and she always gave others the benefit of the doubt. Good exists in everyone and too many times, as people, all we want to do is focus on the bad.

“What did Colt say?” Scarlett’s lips pursed tight. “I imagine you told him?”

“Not gonna lie, he had his concerns.” Pamela fisted her hands and pouted. I feel bad for Charlie and the fact he's lonely. She wished she could do something more to help him, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not outside the confines of these walls. “Colt understands how I am. We had a long talk about things and he's fine with me sending an e-mail back to Charlie and explaining the ground rules for any future visits. I must remind him, nicely, that what we offer at the house is a fantasy, nothing more, and he cannot develop any legitimate, long-term love attachment.”

If Charlie can't accept that, I’ll have to cut ties and ask Colt to bar him from the premises. Heck, he wants to do that already. Pamela never wanted to blacklist a recurring client but would if she had to. I have to protect myself and all the other girls here too.

“You're too nice, Pam-Pam. Way too nice.” Scarlett clenched her teeth and reached for her smartphone. “I cannot stand it when these fuckers ask us for things we cannot or do not want to give to them.” Scarlett had received a text message and began typing out a response.

It was from Sammy.

“What am I supposed to do?” In Pamela’s mind, Charlie deserved an opportunity to redeem himself. What did he do wrong? Anything? All he did was put his heart out there and ask if I'm interested. Scarlett doesn't understand what it's like to be lonely. Nor does she have the heart to look at things from his point of view. “Take all the thousands and thousands of dollars he gave us and run? Have no contact with him again because of something he said in an e-mail?” Plus, Charlie stressed toward the end of the e-mail he’d be fine seeing Pamela exclusively at the house. It's not like he demanded I go visit him in Detroit.

“I'd run as fast as my legs would take me.” Scarlett’s eyes, usually soft and peaceful, resembled an impenetrable brick wall as she gazed up from her cell phone. “You’re insane if you agree to party with Charlie again. Totally bat-shit insane.”

“I've always tried to be extra nice and attentive to virgins. If the roles were reversed and I were Charlie, I'd be crushed if I had such a wonderful experience, spent all that money, and the courtesan refused to see or share e-mail with me ever again.” It would be the ultimate “fuck you” and a slap in the face. I'd grow to resent the courtesan over time and may wish bad things on her.

“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.

Only a handful of her most ardent customers, for example, were aware Scarlett had a fiancé back home in Cincinnati (Sammy, Steve, and Bob – the three she sees outside of 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 eventually 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 consequently 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.”

<> <> <> <> <>

“Dammit!” Lindsay bounced her cell phone off the bed and growled. 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 angry 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 forty years separated them and Sammy was married and lived 330 miles away in Salt Lake City, but Lindsay was 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 sat 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 very 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’d 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 began diddling at her clitoris with a pair of fingers. Oh, that feels awesome. 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. …

<> <> <> <> <>

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 look 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.”

“A lot of 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 big shiny sticker! Woo-hoo!

“Yeah. Business has been great 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 overhear them. “Still can't believe that dude from Detroit dropped almost seventeen thousand dollars here.”

“Me neither.” That's a lot of money to turn my head 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 in closer. “You know, Jim, I was talking with Colt while we were at the hotel the other night. I know it will be 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, quite frankly, 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 was in no position to become 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 large 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 sat up. “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 great 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’d ever known. “Kenzie says I'm too old for her.”

“Nonsense!”

Sahara, Riley, and their customer arose from the bar. Both ladies shot a look 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.

“Put your other hand on my ass too. Don't make me jealous!” Riley crooned. “Yeah, there you go, baby. Feels good, doesn't it? Your hand is so firm and strong! Hey, that tickles!”

The ladies were exaggerating, wanting to entice the gentleman into emptying his wallet, but Pamela hoped they wouldn’t go too far and insult his intelligence. If that were to happen, he may leave without spending a dime. No need to worry. Those girls know what they're doing.

Jim snatched the listening device from his shirt pocket and inserted them into his ear. He fiddled with the control box next to the cash register and activated the surveillance equipment for Sahara and Riley's room. “Colt said Howard was here earlier and had a two-hour party with you. Man, I’m sorry I missed him. He’s one of my favorites.”

“Yeah, he was.” Pamela’s face sparkled like a Christmas tree. “Howard is such a sweet old man – a true gentleman.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “All he talk about was his wife and how much he misses her again?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” They were married for fifty-five years and it devastated him when she passed away in 2011. “Poor man. Howard misses her so much.” Pamela finished her soda and flung its can into the trashcan with a perfect swish. “Kobe!” She did a little celebratory dance. “So, I talked Colt out of firing Kayleigh yesterday, but he told me he was gonna fine her three hundred dollars and suspend her for four days instead.”

“Colt never has had any sympathy for turnouts who cause the slightest bit of drama.” Jim had no issue carrying on a conversation and listening in to negotiations or a party concurrently. He'd done this countless times before and was proficient at multitasking.

“So, I pleaded with Colt again: please don't fine Kayleigh.” Pamela inhaled a shaky breath. “She's brand-new and has only netted three hundred and twenty-two dollars so far. A three hundred dollar fine would’ve been a knockout blow. And she and I have a party scheduled tomorrow at one o'clock with HeavyD from the website. You know, the black guy from Idaho who visits every few months? Darius? He's looking forward to meeting Kayleigh and I told Colt he won't be happy if we say she's not available. She's his main reason for coming here.”

“I thought HeavyD was talking about a three-girl party with you, Kayleigh, and Scarlett on the forums?”

“He'd like that but says he can't afford it. I've been sharing e-mails with him for the past few days. Scarlett wants top dollar for specialty parties and HeavyD is well aware she'd charge him an arm and a leg for a foursome. He's done some BDSM stuff with her in the past. I didn't quote him any prices, of course. That's against the law. But he realizes what they'll be.”

Jim flung a dust rag over his shoulder. “HeavyD has been here enough times to know what to expect.”

“Scarlett doesn't enjoy being with other girls.” Although she pleaded with anyone who'd listen on the website to book her and Kayleigh in a two-girl party. “Always tells me she's gay for pay only.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Jim said. “Scarlett makes more money being in a threesome, even more in a foursome. Nothing wrong at all.”

“No, of course not. Nothing.” Pamela clenched her eyes tight, and after opening them, blew out a breath. Scarlett is sooooo pretty. She shook her hands to release some of her sudden anxiety. “I talked Colt into not fining Kayleigh and lowering her suspension to two days, but it wasn’t easy. I had to convince him. He's worried being lenient like this may set a terrible example.” She crossed her arms. “As you said, Aaliyah isn't happy – especially with me.”

“She knows you have a soft spot for Kayleigh. Aaliyah also knows you're the lone reason she's still here.”

“Colt hates us playing favorites. He told me Kayleigh doesn't get a second chance no matter how much I beg and plead next time.” That feeling of sickness settled in Pamela’s stomach. “He says she's on probation for the next month and every little move she makes will be scrutinized.”

“I was told to monitor her demeanor both during and after every lineup.”

Pamela’s features darkened for a split second, but she relented and cleared her throat. I wish you’d be easier on her, Colt. I really do. “Kayleigh is so sweet. I know she's young and immature, but that comes from growing up in such a small, secluded community. Her parents never let her do anything, never let her go anywhere. So, of course, Kayleigh is going to be a little clueless and not understand the ways of the world. Not know how to interact and deal with others. She's known the same eight or nine people her entire life, I bet, and they shaped her personality into what it is today.” The muscles in Pamela’s legs twitched. “Maybe I can teach her? Help her? I mean, I really like her.”

“You have the hots for her.” Jim reached out and raked his fingertips over Pamela’s wrist. “I can see it in the way you look at her, interact with her.” He squeezed her forearm.

“I do have the hots for her.” She straightened her posture as Jim chuckled. “Something special is hidden deep inside of Kayleigh.” Pamela guided Jim’s hand to her mouth and kissed it. “I'd like to find out what it is.”

“Have you ever felt this way about another working girl before?” He stroked her cheek with a finger. “Especially a turnout off the streets? I know of some you've been attracted to over the years, but not like this.”

“Not since Scarlett started working here three years ago. But she made it clear right away she's gay for pay only. So that shot down any chances I had with her.” Regardless, Pamela enjoyed being paired with Scarlett for threesomes. She's way more into me than she is any client.

“Plus, Scarlett was already with Jason.” Jim shifted his weight from one foot to the other and retracted his hand. “Through all the problems they've had, she's been loyal to him. Calls him every day to tell him how much she loves him.”

Pamela lowered her gaze. “Yeah.”

“Oh, here we go.” Jim adjusted his earpiece. “Old guy with white hair agreed to sixteen hundred for an hour-long party with Sahara and Riley. They're explaining the dick check right now and why it's mandatory.”

“Awesome!” Just like that, Pamela was all smiles. “We've had a lot of customers asking for threesomes this week, haven't we? Nicolette, alone, has been with Scarlett, Sahara, and Aaliyah in separate parties.”

“Let's hope it continues. Perhaps you and Colt can give all the menial employees like me a bigger bonus at Christmastime later in the year?” He waggled both eyebrows this time. “Whaddaya say?”

“You're not menial, Jim!” She rumbled at his tease. “This place wouldn't be the same without you.”

“They'll all be out soon – the girls and their client. I'm going to the booking office so I can process the payment.”

“Fine. Good talk as always.” As Jim stepped away, Pamela glanced up at the television monitor as Toronto pushed across the winning run of the baseball game. Unfortunately, her beloved Orioles lost. The Blue Jays defeated them by a score of 8-7 in extra innings.

Pamela strode to the other side of the bar, poured herself a glass of vodka anyway, and topped it off with a mix of cranberry and lemon juice. Might as well, huh? What’s the harm? She sauntered down the right-side corridor and toward its host of bedrooms.

“You three have fun! I know you will.” She flashed her teeth as Sahara and Riley, plastered on their customer like wet paper towels, bristled past her en route to the office.

“Trust me,” the man said, “we will!”

Pamela made a beeline for her private bedroom at the far end, but backstepped and stared at the closed door for Lindsay's. I need to talk to her. From all accounts, Lindsay was still upset about her suspension. I don't want her to get into trouble again and lose her job because of it. No way Colt gives her another opportunity.

(This chapter will continue in the next submission ...)