* * *
Colt’s arms still folded, he levied a glare at Pamela, his hands balled into fists. He wasn’t one bit surprised, as Pamela displayed a serious shine for Lindsay. She possessed a gentle heart, and this was typical of her.
He always told Pamela she was “too nice” to work in a brothel. She was the most gracious working girl he had ever known, period. An Empath, indeed, and many clients fell in love with her because of it. That was wonderful for business but could also be messy if a client became too attached and expected things from her in the real world.
What happens in the brothel stays in the brothel.
Though unhappy, Colt recognized giving Lindsay a hand was the proper course of action. Happy Ending Ranch had never extended such a courtesy to a new hire. I suppose we’re paying for her lunch now, too, huh?
But Colt had no doubt: this amounted to a wise business decision, though the corporate shark in him didn’t agree. It told him any money given to turnouts would flee out the door with them. Girls her age are dodo birds. They don’t know their left from right, and they’re not to be trusted.
But if Lindsay stayed long-term and handled herself in the bedroom, Colt figured she’d be his highest-earning performer in no time flat. She seems motivated about getting a job here. He had been searching for a younger girl since Amber’s mother forced her to quit four months ago. Fresh faces always fetched top dollar. Experience right off the bat wasn’t necessary, just a willingness to please and give an effort.
Such youth and innocence. Many of his customers, specifically the older ones stuck in stale, ungratifying marriages and seeking a unique thrill, would leap at the chance to sink their dicks into a darling, hard-bodied teenager. Lindsay would be Happy Ending Ranch’s teacup-sized Homecoming Queen whose mouth and pussy were open to all comers. Customers would chew her up, spit her out, and come back for round two.
And three. And four.
Could Lindsay handle such a demand? That was the million-dollar question. Could she withstand the rigors that were sure to follow? Could she do it with a smile on her face at all times? Could Lindsay accept the fact the brothel promoted its own website with a public message board where clients would discuss intimate details about her, such as the tightness of her vagina and the size of her breasts? Could she handle those unsolicited opinions about her body? The quality of her lovemaking skills? Being a willing participant in another person’s infidelity?
Did Lindsay possess the willpower to be treated like a piece of meat? An object? Perhaps several times a day by different, varying customers of all ethnicities and walks of life, and maintain a veil of enthusiasm and happiness in the process? Could Lindsay deliver the impression that she welcomed everything they did, no matter how lewd or repulsive the situation became, and always ask for more?
Only time would tell.
But if she ran off like a thief in the middle of the night with their money, which he half-expected her to do, well, Colt would take only one course of action.
Give Pamela never-ending hell over it.
<> <> <> <> <>
“That’s my girl!” Riley, a four-year veteran of the LPIN scene, motioned toward an attractive, slender brunette, and bounced on her toes while introducing Lindsay to her real-life girlfriend and in-house roommate, Sahara. “We do everything together.”
“Riley and I have been inseparable since grade school,” Sahara said, “and I’ve always had to protect her because she’s so fucking generous, and people like to take advantage of her. We go out, do our thing … I don’t know.” A flinch issued from her shoulder. “We’re fucking young women from L.A. who enjoy partying and having a good time.”
Riley squeezed Sahara’s hand. “We don’t even have to say shit to each other to know what the other is thinking. Like, if a cute guy walks into the room, there are no words that need to be exchanged. We look at each other and, like, we already know we’re gonna fuck him.”
Sahara reached out and grazed her knuckles across Riley’s cheekbone. “She’s my thot. If anyone fucks with her, they gotta fuck with me too.”
“Oooooh! Fuck bitches, get money!”
These two are mad turnt, Lindsay told herself. This discussion was such a stark contrast from when she was with Pamela and Colt in his office earlier. How many drinks have they had?
Sahara wagged a finger Riley’s way. “She’s the wild one, not me. I’m perfectly sane and never come up with any bad ideas.”
Riley’s green eyes sparkled. “She’s my little rider.”
“This chick is my everything. She’s my partner in crime.” Sahara caressed Riley’s shoulder, down her arm, until their fingers tangled. “I love her to death.”
In the corridor, Pamela massaged Lindsay’s wrist. “Sahara and Riley have been working here for the past two years and are getting married this coming December.”
“To each other?” Cheeks flaming, Lindsay took a step back. No way. These two were an item, clearly, but marriage would’ve never crossed her mind.
“What?” A smile ruffled Sahara’s lips as she eyed Lindsay up and down in a similar fashion to how Colt did before the interview. “You have a problem with same-sex marriages, buttercup?”
Buttercup? Lindsay fiddled with her tank top and bile burned the back of her throat. She inhaled against it. “No, no, of course not. Not at all.”
Riley extended a finger and trailed it through Lindsay’s demure cleavage. “You’re so sweet. So young and fresh.” Lindsay’s pulse roared. “You should consider hanging out with us in our room this afternoon, honey, after you finish your orientation.” Lindsay glanced down at Riley’s probing fingertip and swallowed hard. “The three of us could have loads of fun together.”
Sahara quirked an eyebrow. “Netflix and chill?”
Lindsay’s head drew back as her shoulders nudged forward.
“You ever been with a girl before?”
Troubled, embarrassed eyes darted upward. “No.”
“Well, even better.”
Riley pressed her body against Lindsay’s. “We’d teach you how to lick pussy and rock your world like it’s never been rocked before.”
Sahara tapped a finger on Lindsay’s lips. “You’re gonna have to learn sometime, aren’t you? It’s part of the job, baby.”
“As you’ve noticed,” Pamela said to Lindsay moments later as she continued showing her around the property, “everyone is carefree and open here. Sahara and Riley have been lovers for well over a decade and enjoy testing the new girls out like they did to you.”
“I don’t mind.” Though still shell-shocked from that discussion, Lindsay wanted to blend in no matter how crazy this place was. But that didn’t mean she was ready to take Sahara and Riley up on their offer. “So, let me get this straight: those girls are engaged and roommates here too? I was under the impression everyone has their own private room?”
“We made an exception for them.” Pamela raised a lone finger. “Only them.”
We?
“They’re a real-life couple and each other’s shadow. Whenever a customer books a party with either, they always try to convince him to make it a two-girl party. They’ll say they’re engaged and promise the most unbelievable threesome imaginable. And always deliver.”
“But not everyone can afford a threesome.” Lindsay braced her forearm on the nearby wall. “You said the typical client wants a single-girl party for an hour at five to seven hundred dollars a pop.”
“I did. Although if a monger chooses one of them, they’ll go with whichever girl – Sahara or Riley – back to their room and party. The other can’t enter until the time is up. And if they’re with separate customers, the second will escort her john downstairs to the recreation room.” Pamela wrinkled her nose and shivered. “I don’t like mongers being down there. It’s a sanctuary for us employees, but Colt wanted to accommodate Sahara and Riley by letting them share the same room.”
Lindsay noted her body reacted far more sensibly to Pamela’s tender, outgoing nature than it did to Colt’s firm, no-nonsense persona. She’s so wholesome and refreshing.
And Pamela was hot as fuck in the yellow minidress with the red trim, too, her legs toned and sleek, and never once losing her balance in those skyscraper heels. That’s to be admired by itself.
Lindsay gave Pamela’s hand a loving squeeze as the tour continued.
“They’re rambunctious, but they’re also super chill and two of the higher earners we have. Sahara and Riley have ongoing job offers from the houses outside Reno and Vegas yet keep declining them. They’ve been around the LPIN neighborhood a long time and love the way they’re treated here. We all do.”
To Lindsay, both ladies were ravishing as well – petite spinners with slim bodies similar to hers. She felt intrigued by the matching pair of tattoos with cute bow designs Riley flaunted on the back of her upper thighs. Those booty shorts she had on were straight up fire.
Lindsay had long contemplated getting some ink herself. Mom and Dad aren’t in charge of my life anymore, and I can do whatever the fuck I want. I’m an adult now.
In fact, every single working girl Lindsay met today (Sahara, Riley, Nicolette, and Aaliyah) was beauty pageant worthy. They were amazing, but also unique in their own special way.
But none compared to Pamela, who’d been so gracious and amicable thus far, not to mention flirtatious. Once Lindsay obtained her sheriff’s card in the morning, Pamela insisted either Colt or Jim take her to Oakfall and help pick out some sensual things to wear around the house. The items Lindsay brought with her, such as simple bras and panties, and unimaginative pumps weren’t deemed good enough.
Colt was expecting an important telephone call earlier, so he instructed Pamela to continue Lindsay’s orientation throughout the ranch. “Pamela is going to teach you how to walk, talk, negotiate, build a following, create a five-year plan, and cultivate your sexuality and lovemaking skills. I want Pamela to be your Big Sister – your guide – as you acclimate to life here this week. And, oh yeah, congratulations. You’re hired.”
But first, legal paperwork had to be tended to, and mounds of reading material awaited in a separate, smaller office. Hungry, Lindsay scarfed down two slices of pepperoni pizza and a garden salad from a local Italian restaurant. She also had to be trained on how to conduct a “dick check.” Lindsay once read about them online but listened to Pamela like she was clueless on the subject.
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