But she wouldn’t be fined today. Pamela was first to the kitchen, followed by Scarlett, Kenzie, Sahara, Riley, Nicolette, and Aaliyah. The girls chatted amongst one another about miscellaneous things and waited for a few moments before Colt gave the signal to follow him into the lap dance room at the far end of the bar.
The customer, an obvious first-timer, fidgeted as the ladies stood in a perfect line in front of him. One by one, they’d step forward and introduce themselves – “Hi, I’m Pamela!” or “I’m Scarlett. A pleasure to meet you!” – do a sultry swivel, and step back. Batting their eyelashes or doing any slight movement to divert attention while another girl had her opportunity was deemed “dirty hustling”, considered the ultimate no-no in any brothel, and would result in a heftier fine.
Maybe even termination.
“Which one would you like, Charlie?” Outgoing and gregarious, Colt’s entire focus was on the customer. His lone objective? Sell, sell, sell. “So many women, so many choices. Why not double your pleasure and pick two? Any two you’d like. It’s up to you. All these fine ladies enjoy threesomes and would blow your mind during one, among other things.
“If you’d like, you’re more than welcome to receive a four-minute lap dance from any of the ladies too. The choice is up to you. We queue up whatever song you prefer. It will cost thirty dollars per dance, but strip club rules apply – no touching from your end. Hands must be at your sides.”
“No, no lap dance.” A sheen of sweat visible on his forehead, Charlie needed more time to decide. This was commonplace for newbie customers, so Colt allowed him to survey the goods for another sixty seconds. Happy Ending Ranch prided itself in offering a smorgasbord of beauty and today was no exception.
For starters, the two centerfold hotties: Pamela had the busty bikini girl vibe going while Scarlett emulated a walking wet dream from Porn Valley USA. Three years ago, Scarlett’s boyfriend (now fiancé) demanded she take a job here to help satiate her sex addiction. He couldn’t handle her or her urges, or her ongoing infidelity. The move paid off and allowed them to progress toward their current engagement.
Or did this gentleman prefer brunettes instead? Sahara and Riley were petite spinners bursting with energy who’d bend, spread, and open wide for the right price, with the shared motto “rough sex is okay, disrespectful is not.”
Half black and half Indian, and all sex pot, Aaliyah had sweet caramel skin and the face of a cherub with flowing jet-black hair, almond eyes, and a thick-lipped mouth.
Kenzie was a steamy, exotic import from Puerto Rico while Nicolette, another raven hair, was a ten-year veteran of the sex scene and had worked at every brothel in the state. Kenzie’s body was sculpted, chiseled like stone from years of exercise, and Nicolette reminded one of a MILF who wasn’t getting enough at home.
“Well, who will it be, Charlie?” The ladies were dressed in either lingerie or low-cut minidresses. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors were all throughout, meaning every luscious angle and curve could be inspected. “Who do you want to be with?”
“Man, I don’t know. They’re all perfect.” Charlie crossed and uncrossed his legs and struggled to adjust his collar. “Oh my, it’s hard to choose.” His fingers were laced taut, his knuckles white. “I guess … I guess … I pick the one in the red sequined dress. Pamela, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Miss Pamela! A wise decision.” Son of a bitch. Colt had plans of enjoying a picnic lunch with his wife at one o’clock, but that wasn’t going to happen now, was it? Fuck! Regardless, he grinned and gave Charlie a congratulatory pat on the back.
Just business.
Pamela approached Charlie with wide brown eyes and an even wider smile projecting the generosity in her heart. “Hi. How are you?” The other ladies smiled and excused themselves without a word as Pamela glided a hand over the swell of her breasts in a practiced flirtation. This woman was an expert at seducing others.
“Good. Umm, good.” Charlie endured a hard, obvious swallow. “How are you?”
“Good.” She stepped back and offered her hand, tiny and pristine. “I’m Pamela.”
“Yes! Yes, you are!”
Her body swayed. “Nice to meet you.”
“You’re Pamela.” He hesitated, but soon accepted her hand and did a wave with his other. “I’m Charlie, by the way.”
“Okay.” Finding his awkwardness cute, Pamela’s face shone brighter than the Nevada sun. “Would you like to go to the bar and enjoy a drink, Charlie? We can talk for a while and get to know each other. See what we have in common, you know?”
“Yeah … no,” came his breathless reply. “I mean, yeah, yeah, absolutely.” He coughed hard. “Lead the way.”
“There’s no pressure, my friend, and no rush,” Colt said as he followed them out of the lap dance room. This guy is a virgin. Colt had a radar for it, as did Pamela. No doubt, she knew too. “Pamela is the type of gal who will talk your head off if you allow her. Sit down, relax, and talk as long as you’d like.”
“Perfect. I will.” Charlie’s body twitched, unable to take his eyes away from Pamela.
But if I sense you’re not interested in spending any money here, I won’t hesitate. I’ll ask you to leave. And if push came to shove, Colt would force him to leave.
Once Charlie settled at the bar alongside Pamela, anxiety clawed at his throat. “Ahh, so … how are you?”
Pamela laughed at being asked the same question again. “I’m good. How are you?”
“I’m good.” He twisted his wristwatch. “I’m just, uhh, on vacation in Vegas for the week, and thought I’d, uhh, stop by.”
“Vacation? Where are you from? I don’t remember seeing you here before.”
“Michigan. Detroit, actually. Well, the Detroit area. About twenty miles north.” Charlie wrung his hands out and willed himself to continue. “This … it’s quite … it’s very new to me. I’ve never been to a brothel before.”
“Never? That’s awesome. I’m cool with that.” Pamela’s face was lit up like Sin City’s skyline at night, her voice as soft as a summer’s breeze. “I like the newcomers.” She placed her palm along his wrist and squeezed. “You have no reason to be nervous, baby.”
“Nervous? Me? Nervous?” His hip bumped the table. “I’m not nervous. No way.”
Pamela bared her pearly whites again. “Okay.”
Conceding, he covered his face with a forearm. “You’re just so pretty. It’s weird.”
“And you’re so sweet. Thank you. Compliments go a long way with me.” She placed her hand on the back of his neck and tried to knead away his tension. “So, you’ve never been to a brothel before? What made you choose Happy Ending Ranch?”
“I did extensive research on the various brothels in Nevada and decided on this one. Five-star reviews galore. Been trying to build up the courage, uhh, to come here for the past several years.”
“Well, we’re glad you did, and promise to make it worth your while. I’ll see to that personally. Welcome to our little neck of the woods. I’m so happy you chose me out of the lineup. I feel honored.” Pamela was overflowing with warmth as she trailed her opposite hand along his side, slow and tender. “Thank you so much for coming here. Happy Ending Ranch may not be the biggest brothel, but we pride ourselves on being the best.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Colt acted as the bartender – not the owner/general manager and certainly not as Pamela’s husband – as he puttered around behind the counter and did his best to act busy. He kept silent (unless Pamela or Charlie asked him something) and tried to make it seem like he wasn’t there.
Yet he had no choice but to be there.
The customer’s comfort level was important, but the safety of the working girls took priority over everything else. Thus, Colt was supervising the discussion between Pamela and Charlie. He or Jim, or the actual bartenders who worked the later shifts did this for every introductory conversation between working girl and potential client. Those meetings always took place at the bar in plain sight.
Charlie came across as a decent guy, and Colt couldn’t imagine he’d cause any trouble. He purchased a glass of Grey Goose for Pamela when most others refused to pay the house’s outlandish fee for alcoholic beverages.
Pamela asked Charlie to elaborate on his job back home, his family, his interests – all those typical things. She was attentive and showed interest in his every word. Pamela brought his hand to her exposed thigh, told him to keep it there, and was touchy-feely herself too.
“You’ve been working here for twelve years, huh? That’s a long time. Tell me more about yourself.”
Colt kept a watchdog’s eye on Charlie’s hand as it caressed Pamela’s bare flesh.
She smiled for the man again, her soon-to-be trick, the same smile she had given thousands of times since 2006. “Yeah, I’ve been at the brothel for quite a while.”
“I bet you have lots of admirers. Probably a whole list of ’em who keep coming back for more.” Pamela shied away from Charlie’s praise as he said, “You are delicious.”
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