“It’s an all-day hike. Sixteen hours. We only hike it in May and October when the conditions are favorable. In the summer, it’s not advised because the temperature reaches one hundred and twenty degrees.” She rubbed the base of her neck where her pulse beat in spasms seconds ago. “At one point, there’s no water for eight miles. I ain’t cappin’. We tried this past December on a whim, on my birthday, but it was a bad idea. The higher altitudes were covered in snow and ice. Dad didn’t want to risk it, so we turned back. The summit was negative-ten degrees.”
“I have a friend who likes to mountain climb west of Vegas,” Jim said. “In the springtime, the ground is hot and sunny, he says, but at the top of the peak there could be a blizzard going on.”
Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “Mount Charleston?”
Jim glanced at her sideways. “How’d you know?”
“I’ve always wanted to hike there. Its elevation is higher than Clouds-to-Cactus.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
Lindsay pivoted and gazed out the window with an emotionless stare. “My parents are the type who never want to leave home. Driving twenty-five or thirty miles east to Palm Springs has always been a major family outing. Basically, they never leave Citronelle.” She wiped her sniffy nose with a tissue and refocused on Jim. “I’ve only been to Los Angeles twice, though it’s one hundred and forty miles away, and San Diego once. We went to the zoo when I was little. I’ve seen the beach one time. That’s it.”
“Ouch.” Jim grimaced, reached over, and patted the back of her hand. “Sounds like you’ve led a sheltered life. I feel for ‘ya.”
Lindsay stretched her lips. “I was determined to bust out of town after high school and find something new and exciting to do.”
“Like becoming a sex worker in a brothel?”
Her eyelashes fluttered. “The industry has always intrigued me.”
Jim enjoyed talking with turnouts like this and learning about their backstories. No two were ever the same.
“I’ve been doing lots of reading on it this past year, wanting to make an informed decision, and have total respect for all working girls.” She lifted her hand. “I find it amazing what they do, what they offer. Mad props to them. I realize it won’t be easy, but there’s the opportunity for major money. I can save up for college. And who knows? Take a trip or two around the world too.” She glared out the window once more, silent for several seconds. “Neither would be possible if I continued to sling corn dogs for the rest of my life.”
Jim cracked up with laughter. “You hated that job, huh? You’ve mentioned your disdain for it a couple of times.”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“We’re glad you chose Happy Ending Ranch, but did you ever consider anything else? Something like stripping? Webcamming?”
“I did.” She let loose with a lopsided grin. “Stripping, at least, yes. Webcamming never crossed my mind. There is a strip club in San Diego I did some reading up on too. But in the end, I thought escorting would be more enjoyable. More money too. Besides, I wouldn’t like working in a loud, hectic strip club. I’ve never been much for teasing. I like action. There are drugs and dangerous temptations, horrible people, everywhere in them. Brothels are stricter – they are forced to be because they’re regulated by the state – and working at one seemed, I don’t know, safer.”
“You won’t have any problems at Happy Ending Ranch. Colt runs a tight ship. Much tighter than his father ever did. Take Nicolette, for example. She’s worked at every brothel in Nevada and says ours is her favorite. Sahara and Riley have been offered jobs closer to Vegas, but they always decline, though the potential for money is greater there. They love Colt and the fact he lets them be themselves.
“Those brothels in the populated areas such as Vegas, Reno, Carson City, customers are treated like they’re on an assembly line. It’s robotic and a bottom-line business, and those girls will stab you in the back if it suits them. Here, and at other smaller houses, girls cheer each other on. There are petty conflicts, sure, but Colt prefers a family-style atmosphere. Ours is a no-drama house. He takes care of all the girls, and they take care of one another too.”
“I like the sound of that.” Lindsay’s face was beaming as she enjoyed the desert scenery. The dance of sunlight across immense, wide-open spaces and endless mountain ranges made the natural environment of Nevada a sight to behold. Many tourists didn’t realize the state offered much more than the glitz and glamour of Las Vegas. “When I did my research on the Internet, people said Happy Ending Ranch had the chill vibe you speak of. It was a determining factor in me coming here. Pamela mentioned yesterday other brothels try to steal her away too.”
Jim chuckled. “A waste of time, wouldn’t you agree? Pamela isn’t going anywhere.”
“Since you mentioned Sahara and Riley, I must admit, I think their relationship is wonderful. I’d like to work with them one day. You know, party.” Lindsay blew out a breath. “It takes guts to want to have a traditional wedding in a church like they do and invite all their friends and family too.” Her complexion paled. “I mean, if it were me, I’d be scared to death to tell my family I’m in love with another girl, let alone invite them to the wedding.”
“It takes guts and is brave on their part,” Jim said. “But it also shows how much they love and care for each other. Sahara and Riley are proud of what they have and want their friends and families to know it.”
“What about you, Jim? Does Colt take care of you too? The two chefs, maintenance, the bartenders? I had a good talk with Jenn last night. We were vibing in the kitchen.”
“Colt takes care of all his employees. He’s a cool boss. I wouldn’t trade what I do for anything. No position, no amount of money.” Jim offered another hearty laugh. “I put in seventy or eighty hours a week, but it’s not a job to me. I don’t consider it a job.”
Lindsay made a face. “Okurrr. …”
“Honestly, I don’t.” He rolled his head to work out the kinks in his shoulder. “Since we were talking about stripping, there’ll be times when a customer will ask for a striptease and lap dance from you. Don’t worry, though. Pamela will prepare you for every scenario during your training this week.”
“I don’t have the faintest idea on how to give a lap dance.”
Lindsay was a downright doll, without question, but Jim wasn’t interested in her that way. No, his heart belonged to Cierra Vazquez (Kenzie), and he was bound and determined, one way or another, to finally win her over even if it took until the end of time.
“You don’t need to know how to give one. It doesn’t matter. Just do it. Guys don’t come to us looking for a lap dance or striptease. They want the full package. All you’d have to do during a lap dance is bump and grind your body, get up close and personal, and touch yourself. Any man will be eating out of the palm of your hand in seconds. Don’t worry, Pamela will teach you everything.”
* * *
Hmmmmm, Pamela. The corners of Lindsay’s mouth quirked up.
It astonished her that she harbored such a massive crush on Pamela. They’d only met yesterday, and more surprisingly, Pamela was a woman. Sure, Lindsay had been curious about the idea of hooking up with another woman for years. How many times had she fingered herself in her private moments and fantasized about Evie, her best friend, back home? I did that the other night at the hotel. Or used her dildo and imagined it was Evie fucking her with a strap-on instead?
But Lindsay’s attraction for Pamela was already a million times more intense. How is that possible? I mean, seriously? Pamela had been so gracious since the moment they laid eyes on each other yesterday. She’s just a wonderful human being with a huge heart. Pamela exuded a magnetic energy unlike anyone Lindsay had ever seen. For real, she drippin’. Pamela went out of her way, too, to make Lindsay feel welcome and comfortable.
Lindsay wasn’t accustomed to another woman being this amicable. Most of her female classmates in high school had been catty and just plain jealous. What a bunch of haters. Pamela was a toucher and her fingers often glided along Lindsay’s shoulders, her back, or her forearms. It wasn’t blatant and didn’t seem intentional – it’s who Pamela was, Lindsay believed. How many tender kisses did Pamela sneak to her arm and shoulder yesterday? I’ll be fantasizing about her instead of Evie from now on.
Pamela partook in a one-hour GFE with an older gentleman last evening. Since they had neighboring rooms, Lindsay heard every word (and every passionate grunt) between Pamela and her paying client through the thin walls separating them. I was jealous of that boomer.
Poor Lindsay had no choice but to go all-out and fuck herself with her dildo. Imagine if it was Pamela fucking me instead, even dominating me, with a strap-on. Oh God. That would be so lit. Lindsay came three times listening to the man laying the proverbial wood to Pamela. When she would shriek in pleasure, Lindsay closed her eyes and fantasized it was her, not the client, delivering those sensations instead. What a lucky guy.
Overall, it was a troublesome night since she wasn’t permitted to leave her bedroom after eight o’clock unless she had to use the restroom. Lindsay wasn’t medically cleared and hadn’t received her sheriff’s card yet, so Colt insisted she stay out of sight. Zero chill, bruh. Zero chill. Business was hopping and the last thing he wanted was for a customer to see Lindsay and wind up disappointed because she couldn’t work yet.
Leave a Reply