Chapter 2

“That’s my girl!” Riley, a four-year veteran of the LPIN scene, motioned toward an attractive, slender brunette, and bounced on her toes while introducing Lindsay to her real-life girlfriend and in-house roommate, Sahara. “We do everything together.”

“Riley and I have been inseparable since grade school,” Sahara said, “and I’ve always had to protect her because she’s so over the top generous, and people like to take advantage of her. We go out, do our thing ... I don’t know.” A flinch issued from her shoulder. “We’re fucking young women from L.A. who enjoy partying and having a good time.”

Riley squeezed Sahara’s hand. “We don’t even have to say shit to each other to know what the other is thinking. Like, if a cute guy walks into the room, there are no words that need to be exchanged. We’ll exchange a look and, like, we already know we’re gonna fuck him.”

Sahara reached out and grazed her knuckles across Riley’s cheekbone. “She’s my thot. If anyone fucks with her, they gotta fuck with me too.”

“Oooooh! Fuck bitches, get money!”

These two are mad turnt, Lindsay told herself. This discussion was such a stark contrast from when she was with Pamela and Colt in his office earlier. How many drinks have they had?

Sahara wagged a finger Riley’s way. “She’s the wild one, not me. I’m perfectly sane and never come up with any bad ideas.”

Riley’s green eyes sparkled. “She’s my little rider.”

“This chick is my everything. She’s my partner in crime.” Sahara caressed Riley’s shoulder, down her arm, until their fingers tangled. “I love her to death.”

In the corridor, Pamela massaged Lindsay’s wrist. “Sahara and Riley have been working here for the past two years and are getting married this coming December.”

“To each other?” Cheeks flaming, Lindsay took a step back. No way. These two were an item, clearly, but marriage would’ve never crossed her mind.

“What?” A smile ruffled Sahara’s lips as she eyed Lindsay up and down in a similar fashion to how Colt did before the interview. “You have a problem with same-sex marriages, buttercup?”

Buttercup? Lindsay fiddled with her tank top and bile burned the back of her throat. She inhaled against it. “No, no, of course not. Not at all.”

Riley extended a finger and trailed it through Lindsay’s demure cleavage. “You’re so sweet. So young and fresh.” Lindsay’s pulse roared. “You should consider hanging out with us in our room this afternoon, honey, after you finish your orientation.” Lindsay glanced down at Riley’s probing fingertip and swallowed hard. “The three of us could have loads of fun together.”

Sahara quirked an eyebrow. “Netflix and chill?”

Lindsay’s head drew back as her shoulders nudged forward.

“You ever been with a girl before?”

Troubled, embarrassed eyes darted upward. “No.”

“Well, even better.”

Riley pressed her body close. “We’d teach you how to lick pussy and rock your world like it’s never been rocked before.”

Sahara tapped a finger on Lindsay’s lips. “You’re gonna have to learn sometime, aren’t you? It’s part of the job, baby.”

“As you’ve noticed,” Pamela said to Lindsay moments later as she continued showing her around the property, “everyone is carefree and open here. Sahara and Riley have been lovers for well over a decade and enjoy testing the turnouts out like they did to you.”

“I don’t mind.” Though still shell-shocked from that discussion, Lindsay wanted to blend in no matter how crazy this place was. But that didn’t mean she was ready to take Sahara and Riley up on their offer. “So, let me get this straight: those girls are engaged and roommates here too? I was under the impression everyone has their own private room?”

“We made an exception for them.” Pamela raised a lone finger. “Only them.”

We?

“They’re a real-life couple and each other’s shadow. Whenever a customer books a party with either, they always try to convince him to make it a two-girl party. They’ll say they’re engaged and promise the most unbelievable threesome imaginable. And always deliver.”

“But not everyone can afford a threesome.” Lindsay braced her forearm on the nearby wall. “You said the typical client wants a single-girl party for an hour at five to seven hundred dollars a pop.”

“I did. Although if a monger chooses one of them, they’ll go with whichever girl – Sahara or Riley – back to their room and party. The other can’t enter until the time is up. And if they’re with separate customers, the second will escort her john downstairs to the recreation room.” Pamela wrinkled her nose and shivered. “I don’t like mongers being down there. It’s a sanctuary for us employees, but Colt wanted to accommodate Sahara and Riley by letting them share the same room.”

Lindsay noted her body reacted far more sensibly to Pamela’s tender, outgoing nature than it did to Colt’s firm, no-nonsense persona. She’s so wholesome and friendly.

And Pamela was hot as fuck in the yellow minidress with the red trim, too, her legs toned and sleek, and never once losing her balance in those skyscraper heels. That’s to be admired by itself.

Lindsay gave Pamela’s hand a loving squeeze as the tour continued.

“They’re rambunctious, but they’re also super chill and two of the higher earners we have. Sahara and Riley have ongoing job offers from the houses outside Reno and Vegas yet keep declining them. They’ve been around the LPIN neighborhood a long time and love the way they’re treated here. We all do.”

To Lindsay, both ladies were ravishing as well – petite spinners with slim bodies similar to hers. She felt intrigued by the matching pair of tattoos with cute bow designs Riley flaunted on the back of her upper thighs. Those booty shorts she had on were straight up fire.

Lindsay had long contemplated getting some ink herself. Mom and Dad aren’t in charge of my life anymore, and I can do whatever the fuck I want. I’m an adult now.

In fact, every single working girl Lindsay met today (Sahara, Riley, Nicolette, and Aaliyah) was beauty pageant worthy. They were amazing, but also unique in their own way.

But none compared to Pamela, who’d been so gracious and amicable thus far, not to mention flirtatious. Once Lindsay obtained her sheriff’s card in the morning, Pamela insisted either Colt or Jim take her to Oakfall and help pick out some sensual things to wear around the house. The items Lindsay brought with her, such as simple bras and panties, and unimaginative pumps weren’t deemed good enough.

Colt was expecting an important telephone call earlier, so he instructed Pamela to continue Lindsay’s orientation throughout the ranch. “Pamela is going to teach you how to walk, talk, negotiate, build a following, create a five-year plan, and cultivate your sexuality and lovemaking skills. I want Pamela to be your Big Sister – your guide – as you acclimate to life here this week. And, oh yeah, congratulations. You’re hired.”

But first, legal paperwork had to be tended to, and mounds of reading material awaited in a separate, smaller office. Hungry, Lindsay scarfed down two slices of pepperoni pizza and a garden salad from a local Italian restaurant. She also had to be trained on how to conduct a “dick check.” Lindsay once read about them online but listened to Pamela like she was clueless on the subject.

“At the end of a negotiation, if you and your client can settle on a price, you’ll want to ask him to take his penis out so you can perform a dick check. It’s mandatory in this house, so they cannot refuse. I don’t enjoy doing them at all because it’s impersonal and can be off-putting for a man, but Colt has his rules. He has the final say over everything, and no matter what, I can’t get him to change his mind.

“Be sure to wear latex, powder-free gloves and use a halogen flashlight for the dick check, or DC for short. We’ll provide one for you. Scan for any open sores, scabs, skin tags, discharge, or inflammation. You’ll have a box full of wipes soaked in rubbing alcohol and will want to wrap one around the client’s dick. If there are any wounds, even minuscule ones, you’ll know right away by how he reacts. Rubbing alcohol on an exposed wound, particularly on a penis, isn’t a pleasant experience.

“If your customer fails the DC, politely request he exit the premises and alert management immediately. The customer is important, but our personal safety and health always take precedence.

“If they pass, though, point them toward the trucker’s shower we have – a shower is also mandatory for any paying customer – and prepare your room for a party. Lay a protective sheet over your bed and change into any new outfit the monger requested. Or go nude if they ask. Leave every decision up to them. We always aim to please.”

“Hi, Kenzie. You okay, honey? Oh, you poor thing.” Once they’d circled back to the entrance, Pamela rushed over to a savory Puerto Rican empanada at the bar who wasn’t having the best of days. Kenzie had her head in both hands and wore a bathrobe that was hanging open in front.

Lindsay again licked her lips, this time at her first-ever sight of an adult woman’s bare breasts. They look soft and warm, and I’d love to touch them.

She had a tired, blotchy face, and disheveled black hair pulled back into a scruffy knot. It appeared like a bolt of lightning had struck her.

Jim stood over the woman as if he was her guardian angel, his hand massaging her neck and back. “C’mon, Kenzie. Take this aspirin with some water and eat these grapes. It’ll help with your hangover.”

The flutter in Lindsay’s belly coincided with the twinkle across her face. That’s so sweet. She longed for a man to provide for her in such a manner. Imagine Zack being that kind to me. Lindsay stifled a laugh at the ridiculous notion.

“Thank you for getting me takeout, Jim.” Holding both arms out wide as if she wanted to hug the entire world, Lindsay beamed at him. Lunch was delicious. “You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

Jim eased away from Lindsay’s embrace and winced. “Not a problem.” The fifty-six-year-old theorized beneath her façade of innocence Lindsay was a spunky little thing with attitude, and he envisioned a bright future for her working here. Indeed, the sky was the limit. “My pleasure.” Truth be told, Jim could’ve stayed in the hug all day long but past experiences taught him, killer body or not, becoming attached to a turnout would lead nowhere.

Pamela ran a soothing thumb along Kenzie’s neck. “Listen to Jim, honey. Taking some medicine and eating some food will make you feel better.”

“What happened to her?”

“She partied way too hard last evening with a regular of hers from Arizona,” Pamela said to Lindsay. “It was a five-hour party, and both she and the customer got blitzed. Kenzie woke up right before you came here and is paying the price for it now. Colt drove the guy back to the Twin Tops Motel and escorted him to his room so we’d be sure he made it there in one piece.”

Pamela focused on Jim, who held a bottled water to Kenzie’s unwilling lips with his opposite hand. “You want me to talk to Colt about giving Kenzie a couple hours off? She’s in no shape to see anyone at the moment.”

“Colt told me she can have the afternoon off. I asked already,” Jim said, before shifting his focus back to Kenzie. She groaned and thumped her forehead on the countertop. “Sweetie, c’mon. At least take the aspirin and a drink of water. Do it for me.”

Kenzie lifted her head, slowly and not without struggle, to address Lindsay instead. “Are you ... the new girrrrrl?”

“I am. Name’s Lindsay.” I’ve never seen anyone in such a drunken haze before. First Sahara and Riley, and now Kenzie? Did every girl classify as a heavy drinker here? I won’t fit in if they are. Her mouth dry and doubt swirling, Lindsay rubbed both hands on the two front pockets of her denim shorts and double-checked her phone was there for the hundredth time. “It’s so wonderful to meet you.”

“Wonderful to ... meet you ... tooooo.” Kenzie’s forehead fell back to the counter with an audible thud.

“Sweetie, listen to me. I want you to take this aspirin and get some sustenance in you.” Pamela closed her fingers around Kenzie’s forearm. “It’s important, okay?” She trailed a fingertip in circles along her wrist. “Jim, I still have dark chocolate left in my room. It’s on the hutch next to my dollhouse. Dark chocolate has always worked wonders for my hangovers, and Kenzie craves the stuff like you wouldn’t believe. Grab as much as you want for her. I can always order more.”

Pamela leaned closer. “Take your medicine, baby, and Jim is going to fetch you the sweets you like. Sound good?” Pamela kissed her on the temple. “You want Jim to draw you a hot bubble bath too?”

She moaned in a fuzzy haze and nodded.

“Do it, Jim. I’ll text Colt and ask him to keep an ear out for the doorbell for the next hour. His phone call should be over by now. He had a few things to discuss with our lawyer.”

“Thanks, Pamela. You’re such a sweetheart. Have been since day one.” Jim angled his attention toward Lindsay. “Are you an official employee now? Did Colt hire you?” He already knew the answer, but asked as a formality, a way to engage in simple conversation.

“Yes, he did.”

“Terrific. Welcome aboard.” Jim gave her an elbow-to-elbow bump. “The doctor will be here in about two, two-and-a-half hours. I’m sure Colt and Pamela explained the particulars to you. Everyone gets tested today.”

Jim glanced down at Kenzie and slumped his shoulders. “Everyone. Well, everyone except Pamela since she got her tests yesterday in Vegas.” He ran his hand over Kenzie’s forehead. “With any luck, I can have Miss Budweiser here at least close to normal by the time Dr. Muenich arrives. Gonna be a tall task, but I’ve worked my share of miracles before.”

Pamela laughed. “We call Kenzie Miss Budweiser. Scarlett, another girl in the house, her nickname is Miss Michelob Ultra.” Happiness glowed bright on her face. “And me? I’m Miss Grey Goose.”

Isn’t Grey Goose vodka? Uncle Craig likes that stuff. Dad says he’s gonna drink himself into the grave one day. Lindsay’s hands fidgeted at her abdomen. I’m so out of place here.

“Have you picked out a working name yet?” Jim asked. “I can set up a website profile if you like. Won’t take any effort at all.”

“Kayleigh.”

“A cute name for a cute girl,” Pamela chirped.

All Lindsay had ever known was the quiet, boring existence she led in Citronelle with her religious family and a handful of friends. Everything was ordinary and controlled, though she tried her darnedest to rebel alongside her jock of an ex-boyfriend. Exposure to heavy alcohol drinkers and being at the ranch itself was unsettling and would take some time to adjust to. It’s not that I’m against the idea of drinking. It’s just ... different.

But if not for Pamela, Lindsay doubted she’d ever make the transition. I trust she’ll help me navigate through whatever life in a brothel throws my way. Without question, Pamela was the nicest person Lindsay had ever met. She is someone I can admire and pattern myself after. Pamela was articulate, well educated, and had an unparalleled aura of kindness and positive vibes. She even insisted on buying me lunch out of her own pocket.

Instead of $350, Pamela had since loaned Lindsay $700. “You’ll be able to pay for your sheriff’s card and medical tests, purchase plenty of outfits, and snag some flashy bling for your room,” she said earlier. “I’m not worried about the money. Pay me back whenever.”

Unreal. I just met her.

Pamela’s hand was again at the small of Lindsay’s back and she glided random patterns with her thumb as they soon strolled down the opposite corridor.

“Is Kenzie going to be okay?” Your touch is giving me goosebumps. It’s amazing! “She looked terrible.”

“Haven’t you ever seen anyone with a hangover before?”

“No, cannot say I have.” Her conservative parents also instilled the notion in Lindsay that drinking alcohol was sinful itself and must be avoided like the plague. I should get sloshed one day just to spite them.

“Don’t worry, Kenzie will be fine. Happens to the best of us from time to time. The cure for her is medicine, lots of liquid, and food with antioxidants.”

“Is that normal? Jim giving Kenzie a bubble bath?” They took a detour into the kitchen because Pamela wanted to grab a cup of iced coffee. Black with almond milk was her favorite summertime brew. “I mean, the man had hearts flittering around his head as he tended to Kenzie. Are they boyfriend, girlfriend? Married, even?” How would it be possible for a husband and wife to work together in a brothel? The idea sounded insane. There’s no way.