“Please, call me Jim.”
She drew a deep breath that lifted her breasts higher in her tank top. “Kk.” I wonder if this is one of those houses where management has nonstop sex with their employees. At first, Lindsay hoped that wasn’t the case, but now here, she welcomed visions of Jim ripping her clothes off, throwing her on top of the bar, and feasting like she was Thanksgiving dinner. Give me a test drive, Daddy. Her body tingled and burned as anticipation continued to build. Devoid of any logic due to the circumstances, Lindsay would let him have his way.
She caught herself staring at his hands. They were strong and masculine, and she imagined them gripping her ass as he fucked her from behind. Hmm, I bet you’re an animal in the bedroom. Her daydreams transitioned to what he might be packing between his legs. Can I see? I’d love for you to … throat me.
“Your ID checks out, and we’ve already verified through our background check that you’re eighteen. You don’t look eighteen. You look younger, which is the best thing you have going for you, at least to start.” Lindsay bit her lip and a rosy blush dusted her cheeks as Jim continued to talk. Her mind was still racing, her pulse pounding. “The big boss, Colt, has been hoping for some younger talent. Play your cards right, be willing to listen, to learn, and you’ll make a considerable amount of money here.”
Glancing down, she twirled a sneaker-clad foot upon the floor. “I hope so.”
“I need to inspect your backpack and make sure you didn’t sneak anything on to the property you shouldn’t have. A full search is mandatory.”
When Lindsay’s head shot up with arched brows, Jim added in a soft, reassuring voice, “All employees or turnouts – prospective employees, that is – have their belongings searched every time they enter the building. It’s a safety thing.” He reached forward and carefully snatched her bag without waiting for permission.
Oh, rip. What the fuck? An infusion of adrenaline rocked Lindsay as Jim emptied the backpack’s contents and sifted through what amounted to all her worldly possessions. I have nothing to hide, but seriously? The brazenness of the search insulted her, and she didn’t like the prospect of losing all semblance of privacy either.
But that’s how these places operate. You knew that coming in, did you not? It was time to face facts: as long as she was here, her liberties would be subject to the whims of management.
The epitome of professionalism, Jim inspected and placed each of her bras and panties into separate piles. Though she stared at him with clenched fists, Lindsay appreciated the respect with which he regarded her things. Calm down, don’t jeopardize your chance of getting hired. It’s just a simple search. Her sneakers squeaked on the hard marble floor and her fingers fidgeted. It’s not like he’s going to find anything that’ll land you in trouble.
Jim did the same for her tops and bottoms, shoes, socks, hair and beauty supplies, purse, laptop, iPad, and paper notebooks, and gave her smartphone a quick courtesy glance. Evidently, it wouldn’t be confiscated after all. Thank God. I’d die without my phone.
Jim offered no visible reaction to Lindsay’s long silver dildo and the Ben Wa balls she would occasionally insert into her vagina first thing each morning and go about her day as usual. The balls were hollow and weighted with smaller metal balls inside them. These balls bounced as Lindsay moved and kept her in a constant state of arousal even as she did the most mundane activities.
She once wore them to school and experienced an orgasm when walking from one class to the next. Oblivious, friends feared she was about to faint (or worse) and called the nurse for assistance.
Until today, that was the craziest, naughtiest thing she had ever attempted. I love getting fucked with every single step I take.
“Your stuff checks out,” Jim said. “All clean.”
What? No full-body pat-down? Lindsay’s lower lip protruded. Disappointing.
“You want me to put everything back or would you prefer to do it yourself?”
“I’ll do it.” Without hesitation, Lindsay grabbed the plastic baggie with the Ben Wa balls inside and clutched them like they were her most cherished possession. Uhhhhh. Her face flushed fifty shades of red as she realized how silly she must look for having archaic, old-world sex toys like this and, with trembling hands, refilled her bag. But I love my Ben Wa balls.
Lindsay angled a subtle glance toward Jim. There’s nothing like a bad boy who pretends to be a gentleman. This man was a bad boy, right? He managed a brothel, sold sex to random customers, and fucked the prostitutes in their downtime. And hell if that idea didn’t melt Lindsay’s panties into the twisting nether. I want his dick in me.
Jim meandered behind the counter and picked up the old-school, rotary telephone. “Colt? Yeah, hi. The turnout is here. Yeah, the girl from Palm Springs. Lindsay Anastacio, the eighteen-year-old. Early, yeah. Oh, you have us on surveillance?” He trawled his gaze down her figure and her soul shuddered. “A keeper, isn’t she? I think so. Oh, yeah. Mighty fine. Better than I thought too. Want me to send her back to your office or do you prefer to come out and meet her here instead? Yeah, yeah, okay. I got you, boss. I’ll tell her. No problem. Yeah, I contacted the lawyer first thing this morning like you asked. Blake’s secretary said he’ll call you at twelve forty-five sharp. Yeah, yeah, my pleasure.” Jim placed the phone down and again regarded Lindsay. “Colt will see you in his office now.”
“Who is Colt going to see?” A female’s voice called from behind as Lindsay stashed the last of her belongings into the backpack. She whirled around and offered a visual sweep of the hypnotic, celestial blonde who’d emerged from the curtain on the right side, and a shock of something nuclear exploded within her.
Whoa.
At initial glance, this woman possessed it all: an angelic face; thick, healthy hair that flowed down to the midpoint of her back; soft, pink lips; a bronzed, voluptuous figure; and a disposition as bright and warm as the desert sun. She wore a yellow minidress with red trim running down either side of her ridiculous curves. Lindsay struggled to tear her gaze away from those succulent, tanned legs and the spiked high heels supporting them.
Those are stripper heels.
“Oh, you’re the turnout. It’s awesome to finally meet you in person.” The woman, who appeared no older than twenty-one, shuffled over, brows raised, and extended a manicured hand. “Hi, I’m Pamela. You’re Lindsay, am I right?” She pressed a hand to her lips. “I guess I’m gonna look silly if you’re not Lindsay, huh?”
They must be six or seven inches high. Pamela’s heels still distracted Lindsay, and for good reason. Those rides are fucking killer. Pamela’s legs were pure muscle, pushing and pulling and shifting as she slinked closer with a beguiling grace, and the heels shone a spotlight on them. Lindsay was unable to comprehend how anyone could parade about in such dramatic pumps. I’d fall and fracture my neck in those things.
“No, no, you’re right. I’m Lindsay.” She stole another glance of Pamela in her minidress as they shook hands. Do all the girls here look like you? She expected them to be attractive, but not on the scale of international supermodels. How am I going to compete and make any money?
“Oh, look at you. You’re so shy. What a doll. Are you nervous? Don’t be nervous, sweetie. Those pictures you texted me didn’t do you any justice.” A joyous flame danced in Pamela’s chocolate brown eyes as she hooked an arm around Lindsay’s elbow and motioned toward the hallway to the left. “Want me to escort you back to Colt’s office?” She rubbed gentle fingertips across Lindsay’s inner elbow.
“Uhh, sure, I guess?” Lindsay’s heart rate, which finally leveled off in the past few moments, soared again. Who is this woman? Her body reacted to Pamela’s intimate touch, the closeness, tingles sweeping across her skin.
I love it. Coming here, Lindsay didn’t expect any inhibitions or boundaries. Why would there be? It’s a brothel. She had never been with another girl in bed before, either, although the idea of experimenting with her best friend back home was a recurring fantasy.
Evie is so sweet and pretty. It had only been thirty-six hours, but Lindsay missed her already. In fact, she missed Evie more than anyone in her own family. We’ve been homegirls forever, like fam.
Did finding Evie desirable make Lindsay bisexual? Fantasizing about her? Or was she, instead, a modern, millennial woman who wanted to broaden her horizons? Lindsay wasn’t sure and spent substantial time over the last several years pondering that question herself.
Being attracted to girls was nothing new. Her first-ever crush was Jasmine from the movie Aladdin. She was five at the time and had dolls and posters of the animated character plastered all over her bedroom. Mrs. Anastacio teased her about wanting to marry Jasmine when she grew up.
Nowadays, reading lesbian romance novels on her iPad is a guilty pleasure. Most of the pornography she watched was of women her age getting it on with each other too. She would never grow tired of girl-girl action. The female body was too captivating and erotic to ignore.
She snapped back to reality. What am I thinking? I looooove cock, and always will. Yet at the same time, Pamela’s dress clutched the outline of her breasts that Lindsay’s tongue desperately wanted to follow. Her mouth flooded with moisture. Good God.
But she also figured in due time, a customer would want a ménage à trois, and she’d suck cock and eat pussy concurrently. Oh, I’d give anything to be in a threesome. Her mind a buzzing mass of static, this offered Lindsay enough reassurance that, at least for now, she made the right decision.
“Don’t worry, Colt is the sweetest guy,” Pamela said.
Speaking of crushes, I’m developing one for Miss Nevada here in a hurry. Moments ago, the possibility of meeting Colt excited Lindsay. She swooned over Jim and was developing an infatuation for Pamela too. Maybe all of them can gang-bang me.
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