But his words trailed off. It wasn’t in Colt’s nature, as lenient and supportive as he was, to pressure Pamela into any decision. He wasn’t the possessive type and had no issues with her being with others in the bedroom. This was a job and how she made a living. He understood. It was for him, too, like how he put his hands on Lindsay during the interview yesterday. It was necessary. Colt told her she was firm and sexy, among other things, but it was just business. He had zero attraction toward Lindsay.
Colt’s problem was despite what Pamela would tell everyone, including him, she had run her course working here. She was aching, both physically and emotionally, beyond exhausted, and on certain days it was clear to see.
But Pamela worried about money. She always had. Colt chalked those fears up to her modest upbringing. And she would never admit to suffering a burnout. This was his life’s work. He was raised in the business. Without it, they would have never met and gotten married. Pamela believed she owed a debt to the sex industry.
For the most part, this was all Pamela had ever known as far as working. She started out as a webcam model on her eighteenth birthday and transitioned to stripping for a few months while still attending high school. Following graduation, she left home for Vegas and applied at Happy Ending Ranch. A friend from the webcamming site suggested she try it.
Pamela had business ventures outside the house, too, but sex work was her livelihood. She was proficient at it, and the money was plentiful. Stepping away and taking a full-time job that paid, say, eighteen dollars an hour for rotting at a desk seemed like a colossus waste of time.
Pamela believed continuing to make a solid income would provide a better future not only for her, but for Colt and their children as well, should they ever have children. Pamela was still undecided. Why not work in the brothel for as long as she could? Until decisions such as starting a family were made and set in stone?
“I’ll retire in three years, I promise.”
Colt bit his tongue and glanced away. You’re not going to last three more years.
“Are you going to initiate Kayleigh once she returns from her day out with Jim?” Pamela’s knee bounced in place as she plucked at her throat. “You usually do with the new girls.”
“Think so, yeah. Need to see what she’s got.” Hissing, he drummed four fingers on his thigh as Pamela’s shoulders again crumpled. “It’s just business, honey.” Colt gripped her foot and resumed the massage. “I hate having sex with anyone but you.”
“Let me do it instead?” Pamela wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek into his chest. “I know Kayleigh won’t have any objections or reservations if it’s me. I’ll do it in a way that she doesn’t even realize it’s an initiation.”
Colt often gave in to Pamela whenever she pleaded but held firm this time. “No. No way. You’ll let your emotions, your attraction, get in the way. I need to see if Kayleigh has what it takes to succeed here. It must be me.”
She slumped back, her nose twisting. “Okay.”
“Get with Kayleigh later if you two have some free time and see what happens.” Colt realized Pamela disapproved of him having sex with any of the hired help but didn’t feel like rehashing that topic again. I know, I know, you’re a working girl and it’s your job. It’s not mine. Still, the hypocrisy of her rationale was astounding. How can you, of all people, be opposed to me being with another woman? “You know I won’t object.”
She rubbed the back of her neck and winced in discomfort. Pamela’s body had taken a beating over the years, and some days were worse than others. Before the end of the year, she’d have to bite the bullet and go back to Dr. Pietz for a full checkup.
During her last visit, Dr. Pietz indicated certain areas of Pamela’s body – joints and muscles, and the arthritis in her neck and back that kept worsening – were more than in line with what a fifty-year-old would experience. The constant, unyielding stress she put herself through was doing irreparable damage to her body and would cause implications as she aged.
She suffered from fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue. Shifting into lots of unique positions with a client or holding the same position for too long could be painful. Pamela often swam in the outdoor pool to combat these ailments, did yin yoga, and planned to purchase a spa membership during her next trip to Oakfall and spend eight to ten hours in the sauna and hydrotherapy pool every time she had the day off.
Even at her young age, Pamela took five prescription medications daily and had two others for pain as needed. If she wasn’t a sex worker, six of those seven prescriptions wouldn’t be necessary.
“Why did you have to act so damn strict and businesslike when you were dealing with Lin … Kayleigh yesterday?” Pamela leaned closer and furrowed her brow. “The poor girl was petrified during the interview. I’m glad I was there to help offset you.”
“You know why I act that way. You know full well.” Colt glared at her without blinking. “These new girls need to know our rules and regulations, and I want their respect. If I act all buddy-buddy, they’ll come in and think they own the place.” His demeanor softened as he stroked her neck. “You like that, honey? Feel good? They’ll walk all over me and Jim. You too. Rip us apart.”
“But you’re not that way. And yes, it feels good. Thank you. My neck needs it more than my foot.”
His caress, as usual, was therapeutic. Colt was well versed with Pamela’s everyday aches and pains and often treated her appropriately.
“You’re a big teddy bear, Colt. Just like Beary Potter. But you know I don’t like that resting bitch face you put on with the new hires.”
He roared with laughter. “I have a resting bitch face?”
“It’s driven girls away over the years. You know it has. Plus, Kayleigh isn’t the type to walk over anyone. She seems passive, very submissive.”
A single eyebrow rose. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“God, Colt. Lighten up.” Pamela huffed and puffed but regained control of her emotions. “I will say one thing, though: once a girl establishes herself here, you treat them like gold. Solid gold. Scarlett and Nicolette were telling me on Sunday night how much they enjoy working for you. Scarlett even said she missed your looming presence while we were away in Bora Bora. At first, years ago, Scarlett didn’t know what to think of you. She was apprehensive like Kayleigh is now.”
“My business model and methods have done us well over the years.” Colt pressed a bottled water to his mouth and took a long sip. “This isn’t a popularity contest. I’m here to make money and provide for us.” He palmed her abdomen and spoke with caution, “For our children, too, whenever you decide to retire.”
Pamela’s eyes flashed. “When I put the lube away for good? Hang up the old high heels once and for all?”
“Yeah.” Three years, right? I’ll believe it when I see it.
“All I’m saying is you come across as too harsh sometimes. Do you know how nerve-racking it is for an eighteen-year-old to come in off the street and apply for a job like Kayleigh did yesterday? I do. I was once her. Kayleigh left her entire life behind and spent every last penny she had for an opportunity to earn a job with us.” Pamela traced her finger along the line of Colt’s jaw. “Explain the rules and protocols, but be gentler from now on? Please? For me? You’d still earn their respect. If a girl doesn’t seem like the right fit, we don’t have to hire her. That resting bitch face of yours is so damn unattractive.”
“Burn ’em to a crisp, my queen.” Colt tried to switch topics and motioned toward the marshmallows with his head. “Burn ’em good.”
“I know, down deep, you’re not that way.” Pamela pecked him on the forehead with a kiss. “You’re the sweetest, most generous, most loving guy in the world. I can’t believe how good you are to me.”
“Well, I should be.” He couldn’t contain his grin. “You are my wife, you know. And I love you more than words could ever say.”
She bracketed his upper body, rubbing the arc of his shoulder blades with her thumbs. “I love you, too, baby.”
“Being good to you is so easy.” Still smiling, he exhaled a deep, cleansing breath. “Easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
The doorbell to the brothel rang. In the backyard, the chime could still be heard because an outside speaker was devoted to it.
“Oh, you know what time it is now, don’t you?” Colt sprang to his feet as if he was a pogo stick on steroids. “First customer of the day is here. Time to make some money.”
“Hold your horses, cowboy.” Pamela grabbed a handful of Colt’s shirt and pulled him back down to deliver a kiss saturated with affection. “Sometimes you frustrate me, but I always know you’re looking out for our best interests, especially mine. I thank you for it. We’ll talk more about me retiring later tonight or tomorrow.”
The couple ventured inside and parted ways. Pamela hurried off to her bedroom and Colt answered the door.
“Mornin’ there, my friend, and welcome to Happy Ending Ranch.” He did a visual inspection of the potential customer to make sure he was clean, decent, and not drunk off his ass. After checking off those mental boxes, he extended his hand for a formal greeting. “I’m Colt, a barkeep here. Might I see a photo ID?”
Elsewhere, Pamela rushed to change out of her bikini top and denim cutoffs and into something more appropriate. As she finished, a different buzzer reverberated all throughout the property.
The customer had requested a lineup.
Pamela slipped into her platform heels and made her way out to the corridor.
From the time the lineup buzzer blared, every working girl on-site (unless they were already in a party, it was their day off, or management excused them for another reason) had to be standing at the entrance to the kitchen within five minutes. If they were late, it amounted to a $150 fine and would be donated to charity.
As odd as this may sound, Colt had fined his wife for being late to lineups several times. He believed it was necessary to discipline Pamela the same as the others and not show her any preferential treatment.
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