“Oh, truer words have never been spoken, bud. I prefer to spend my money on red-hot women instead of tossing it down the drain at the casinos too. It’s much more fulfilling.” Jim had variations of this same discussion with prospective mongers thousands of times over the years. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it to entice them to open their wallets. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a doctor, man. An internist.”
“Oh wow.” A doctor? Really, man? Funny. To Jim, Ryker didn’t come across as the doctor type, but he’d been wrong before. He looks more like a retired NFL linebacker, six-foot-two of entitled male muscle. I wouldn’t trust him with my medical ailments, that’s for sure. “Have you ever been to a brothel?”
“When I was younger – fifteen, twenty years ago – I did a couple of crawls in Nevada and Montreal. Always fun to hook up with a hot, smokin’ chick with no strings attached.” His lips curled into a wolfish grin. “I got married in 2016 – finally settled down – but now the itch is back, and I need to take care of it in the worst way, man.”
Aha. One of them. Quite common around here.
“Savannah – my wife – she’s six months pregnant with our first child.” Ryker gave a strained head shake and when he lifted his eyes to Jim’s again, they were full of doubt. And fear. “Gonna be a boy.”
“A boy? That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
“It is wonderful, man, and thank you.” Ryker fisted clammy hands at his sides. “But the broad is drivin’ me nuts. Life isn’t fair. I didn’t expect our marriage to be this way.” He swallowed hard and said in a flat tone, “Don’t get me wrong – I love my wife but needed to get away from all her bitching and complaining for a few days.” Almost at wit’s end, Ryker’s face was distant. “It’s getting worse the more pregnant she gets, you know? Plus, she’s lost all her sexual appetite and it’s killing me. I’ve got the worst case of blue balls in recorded history, man.” He pushed away from the bar. “It’s so damn upsetting.”
“Well, I think we could help you out. Won’t be a problem at all.” Jim’s heart fluttered at the thought of being married himself, specifically to Kenzie, and her being in the late stages of pregnancy. I sure wouldn’t leave Cierra at home and go running off to a brothel behind her back.
Enough of those thoughts, right? I got a job to do.
“We have eight ladies on duty and I’m sure one or two of them will fit your needs, if not more.” Jim was the epitome of professionalism when it came to customer service. “Blondes, brunettes, raven-hairs, foreign imports; everything from the busty MILF to the eighteen-year-old fresh out of…”
* * *
“Hi there! Good morning!” From behind the curtain on the right side, Lindsay emerged with the sweetest, most sincere smile, and sashayed over to the man at the counter. Her suspension served, she was wearing a thin, peach-colored minidress and two-inch heels. Gorgeous, vibrant, and ready to earn some much-needed cash, Lindsay hurried off to her bedroom moments ago to change into something more appropriate when she and Jim spotted a customer standing outside on the security feed. “I’m Kayleigh.”
“Sup, girl?” This mountain of a man appraised her from head to toe. “I’m Ryker Gamble.”
Really? Sup? Is that a word people even use anymore? “It’s nice to meet you.” I don’t like the vibe I’m getting from this guy, but his eyes are ravaging me. Lindsay all but ignored Jim as she smoothed out her minidress, extended a hand, and nestled closer. 1995 just called and wants its pickup line book back. A chill speared through her chest. Remember what Pamela said about dealing with customers who make you feel uncomfortable. “How are you today?”
“Fine, just fine. And you are… fucking incredible.” Though compliments were always welcome, Ryker’s glibness, his straightforward style, failed to impress Lindsay as he held her hand above her head and she did a pair of pirouettes.
“That outfit is so cute.”
“You’re very sweet.” Hold back on the full-on, all-out smile. Take it slow, let it blossom over time, and make this guy think you’re interested in him. Another thing Pamela had taught her was that flashing a smile right off the bat may seem disingenuous, even flat-out fake. Look at the man, assess him for five seconds, and then smile.
“Your body is amazing. Wow, you’re so sexy.”
“Thank you.” Lindsay motioned toward the bar stool beside him. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
Pressing his hand to her lower back, Ryker guided her over. “Please, by all means, do.”
Lindsay hadn’t tried this yet, but Pamela also said it was okay to snag a trick from the front before he (or she) asked for a lineup. I have every right to. Besides, Lindsay assumed she was the only girl in the house awake this early. Not sure but think so.
“How old are you?”
“I’m eighteen… nineteen in December.”
“Oh, you’re young. You have such a cute face.”
“Thank you.”
“Such a cute smile, cute eyes. Incredibly attractive.”
“You’re so kind.” Perhaps he isn’t a neanderthal after all. Lindsay was beaming at the excess praise but still didn’t care for Ryker, regardless, as she’d overheard his earlier comment about needing to be away from his pregnant wife. Like Jim, it turned her off. I don’t mind if they’re married, but that’s just plain wrong.
But this was a brothel – things were different here – and it wasn’t Lindsay’s job to pass judgment. Her job was to be a pleasure and orgasm specialist who had little to no morals.
Whores don’t know anything about ethics. She gulped her throat, her insides dissolving into shame and woe. At least, people don’t think we do. But she signed up for this job, right? This life? Indeed, Lindsay needed to work on putting up more of a barrier. I’ll feel bad for his wife once I’m done counting the money I make from him.
She had to do a double take. Wow, cold. So unlike me, but maybe this place is rubbing off on me. Ryker was fighting a difficult battle, though he didn’t realize it, because Lindsay’s party with Eric on Wednesday evening was still fresh on her mind. I won’t let my guard down and allow one of these men to hurt me ever again. Her mindset would be different if there was an instant connection with Ryker, a certain spark, like with Sammy. I wish every monger was like Sammy. He is the perfect man.
“So, how long have you been in the business?”
“Umm, this is my first week.” You’re young. Play your innocence up, don’t come across as someone who has gotten fucked multiple times this week. Pamela said it may be your greatest asset. “I started on Monday.”
“Really?” Ryker’s eyes hollowed out, as if his brain couldn’t process that delightful bit of information. Every muscle froze before another grin crept onto his lips and soon spread from one side to the other. “How do you like it so far? Been busy this week with customers?”
“No, not really. But it’s still been fun.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Any customers yet?”
“Yeah, one or two.” Why not? What’s the harm?
“What do you like most about working here?”
“Meeting new people, especially older guys.”
“Older guys?” Ryker rubbed his hands and leaned in closer. “Shit, yeah. I like the sound of that.”
“I’ve always loved talking to older men and hanging out with them. I feel like they just … they understand. They get me, you know?” Lindsay trapped her lower lip between her teeth, the telltale innocence of a sex kitten in training. “So, I’m glad you and I can keep each other company this morning.”
“Does it feel kind of like, naughty?” Ryker scrubbed a hand over his face. “To be with an older, experienced man? To have him balls deep inside of you?”
“Yeah, exactly.” Balls deep inside of me? Nope, he was a neanderthal after all. “I like to be naughty.”
“Where he throws you around? Takes control? Makes you feel like you belong to him?”
“Yeah.”
He tugged her closer with a lecherous grin. “I like that. I bet your pussy is wet and tight.”
The pretty girl’s mouth twisted to the side, going tiny, and she tried her darnedest to forget this guy was a creepy loser, but no matter what she did – even attempting to conjure up Sammy’s face and no-nonsense charm – Lindsay failed. Ryker’s slick, superficial stare pulled her in like a moth to a flame.
This is bad news. Suddenly, Lindsay realized something. This hurtbag reminds me of Zack in more ways than one.
Lindsay wasn’t ready for work yet this early in the morning. She hadn’t bothered to dry her hair from the long shower when she first came out to talk to Jim thirty minutes ago. It was dry now, but still frazzled. Her mascara needed to be touched up, too, but the bodacious minidress and heels offset whatever drawbacks.
Lindsay could have taken a few extra minutes to make herself more presentable, but didn’t want to risk another courtesan swooping in and getting to the bar before she did. Tag-teaming a customer in the lobby wasn’t permitted unless he or she asked for two (or more) ladies. It was first come, first served.
Why take the chance? I look good enough as is. Pamela also told her that certain guys like to see girls only seventy or eighty percent ready because they were more “real” without all the makeup and excess glam.
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