She imagined kneeling at his feet with both wrists bound behind her back and his hard cock again in her mouth. A brisk face-fucking, being used for pleasure, as an object, thoroughly disciplined and enjoyed by him and by those who he rented her out to. Hurt me, Daddy.
“And ten or more once you build a following and word-of-mouth spreads on our bulletin board and website.”
Breath exploded from her lips. Ten customers a week? I’ll have sex with ten strangers every week?
“Please, sit down. Relax. Take a seat.”
Take a seat? What Lindsay preferred was to nestle in Colt’s lap and grind her ass over it like a dirty girl, but she let out a tiny mew instead, uncrossed her arms, and obeyed. Are you not attracted to me? Ice coated her skin. Please, sir, touch me some more. She’d strip naked and beg for his cock if that’s what it took to receive a job offer. I’d suck it dry and swallow your cum every day. She would bend over the desk and offer her backside up for a spanking, and … and … and even fucking.
“Should I stick around or not?”
“C’mon now, Pamela.” With a professional, steadfast demeanor, Colt’s voice lowered in pitch as he returned to his desk and shot her a sidelong glare. “You already know the answer to that, don’t you?”
Pamela’s head did a quick bobble and she settled onto the four-piece sectional chaise lounge sofa, patting Lindsay’s kneecap. “It’s okay, honey.” While Lindsay straightened her tank top with long, skittish strokes, joy and anticipation pinwheeled across Pamela’s face. “I know being here is nerve-wracking, so try to relax. This isn’t an interview at the neighborhood burger joint. You’re in a brothel, and I remember how scared I was my first day too. We want you to succeed, but most of all, we want you to be comfortable.”
Lindsay shifted her weight, her legs quivering. Settle down. Stay strong and think about your future. This wasn’t a casting couch in the San Fernando Valley. You can do this. Remember, fear is for the weak.
Colt’s fingers tapped away on his laptop. “So, you want to be a sex worker, huh? Not a typical career choice for someone your age.” He paused and saw familiarity with her abrupt deer-in-the-headlights reaction. “Going over your application and the background check we pulled, your full name is Lindsay Michelle Anastacio, you’re eighteen, and live in Citronelle, California. Born December 4, 1999, and the third of four children to Leslie and Donald Anastacio. All daughters …” His head twirled about. “… I like that. Your sisters are named Gina, Jennifer, and Alison. Gina and Jennifer are college students, I see, and Alison is still attending high school. You’ve lived in the same house your entire life. No criminal record to speak of either.” His face opened wide with curiosity. “Is my information correct?”
Something volatile and irrational ricocheted through her brain. “Yes sir.” You learned all that from a simple background check?
“Loosen up.” Pamela settled deeper into the sofa and chuckled, a throaty, uninhibited laugh. Lindsay understood she was a good person. Unique, for sure, and perky – definitely perky – but good, nonetheless. Pamela’s warm nature wasn’t an act.
She’s so trill.
“We’re all friends here. It’s not life and death.” Pamela’s eyes traveled over Lindsay with a flirtatious stare. “You’re such a pretty girl. It’s unbelievable how pretty you are.”
“I agree with Pamela – relax. You want some water?” Colt said, his voice breaking lower with each word. “Try to think of this as your typical job interview, okay? It’s nothing more.”
Turnouts walking in off the street and being intimidated was commonplace for Colt. He recalled Pamela sitting on that same sofa twelve years ago and reacting the same way Lindsay did now. He often wondered whether it was him or the fact these girls were a few steps away from selling their bodies for the first time.
“Are your mom and dad aware you’re here wanting to get a job with us? Your siblings? Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?”
“No sir.” Lindsay coughed and thumbed her necklace. Snap out of it. Though fear clogged her veins, she refused to fold underneath all this pressure. I will sit here and answer all these questions. Lindsay would force herself to relax too. I will get this job too.
“I told them I was moving to Las Vegas and a hotel on The Strip wanted to hire me as a maid, and they offered a reduced rate for employees on room and board.”
“You’ll need a better cover story as I doubt yours will hold up over time.” Colt directed his focus back to the laptop. “Over seventy-five percent of the girls here haven’t told their parents they’re a working girl. Pamela’s been doing this since 2006, and no one in her family has the slightest clue.” His gaze flashed upward. “They’re under the assumption Pamela models professionally and earns money from her fashion and advice vlogs on YouTube and an online clothing store she has on Etsy. She does, technically, and from other things, too, however they have no idea her principal job is as a working girl. A provider.” A sour expression filtered across his features. “They’d kill me if they ever found out.”
They’d kill you? Why? What did Colt mean? Although she was leering at his sleek tattoos and flexing muscles, Lindsay had countless questions. Did Pamela’s family know about Colt? Had they met him in person? If so, why would she introduce her brothel owner boss to her family? That makes no sense either.
Pamela clutched Lindsay’s hand, creating indentations on her skin. “I started when I was eighteen, the same as you. I’m thirty now.”
Wait, what? Thirty? To Lindsay, Pamela didn’t appear a day over twenty-one. I’m legit shook. No, wait up, again. Was Pamela joking? She had to be. But why would she? No woman in her right mind would tack an additional nine years on to her age, even as a joke. Shit, I hope I can be half as attractive as you when I’m thirty.
“This is the only brothel I’ve ever worked at. I’ll never work at another.” An easy laugh reached Pamela’s eyes, spreading small lines outward. “Other houses have tried to poach me away several times over the years, haven’t they?”
“They don’t realize you belong to me.” Colt’s soft yet dangerous tone made Lindsay wary.
A smirk slid up one half of Pamela’s face. “You belong to me, too, baby.”
Lindsay sensed a potent chemistry swirling between these two. What’s the dirty scoop? Are they fucking? Was that standard between management and employee in this house? Does he do all the girls on the side? What about Jim? Do they take turns or tag-team them? You know, I bet Pamela could handle two dicks at once with ease. Or was it something deeper? I need to know.
Is Pamela sweet on Colt? Did he cut her breaks in return? Discounts? Yeah, yeah, I bet that’s it. Maybe I can earn my share of discounts too.
Lindsay had the urge to ease her fingertips along the stubble of Colt’s jaw and kiss every square inch of his magnificent face. Jesus, what am I? A bitch in heat?
“I have no problem with you keeping this a secret from your folks,” Colt said. “I encourage it because I’m always fearful of angry parents banging on our door at two o’clock in the morning after finding out what their innocent princess has been up to for the past few months or years. It’s happened before and is never a pleasant situation. Things turn awfully messy in a hurry.”
Pamela’s mouth trembled. “There have been times we’ve called the sheriff because parents have made threats against Colt and Jim.” She motioned toward Colt. “Remember Amber’s mom that one day?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. What a nightmare. I feared that woman was about to go all Michael Myers on me.”
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