Chapter 40

Eleven Months Later (CURRENT DAY)

Thursday, June 3, 2021

Flagstone, Nevada

Ryan Averdick knew better than to mess with trouble.

As a FEO (fire equipment engineer) with the Sulaco County Fire Department and a swashbuckling bachelor, the forty-year-old had a legion of badge bunnies at his disposal. God Bless all my firefighter groupies. So why in the world was he hanging out at Happy Ending Ranch tonight, of all places, when he could be back home in Ghost’s Ranch, Nevada, where a simple telephone call to any of his multiple hottie admirers could scratch that itch with little to no financial burden?

Dammit. I thought I’d forever sworn off buying sex at this place again once COVID struck. He brought a glass of tequila to his lips and anchored his attention on the answer, who was flaunting her substantial assets at the bar in a pinup girl white dress and provocative slingbacks. Ultra short and sexy, the dress crept up the backs of her legs, barely concealing her ass. She didn’t seem to notice or care as she popped upright from the bar stool, looking sexy as sin and carefree as the wind. Tessa Tease. Ryan’s brain fizzled at her name, obviously a pseudonym for privacy purposes. It was fitting, though, because the way this demigoddess made him feel was trouble with a capital T.

“So, you goin’ for it or not?” Justin asked.

Ryan wrenched his gaze away from Tessa, and as white noise filtered in from the television, featuring an NBA postseason matchup between the Phoenix Suns and Los Angeles Lakers, he zoned out and ogled her again. Music and the scents of perfume and infidelity hung in the air as well. The man she was with – probably a lonely tourist from St. Louis or Green Bay, or someplace similar – latched onto Tessa’s hand after their initial hug and pulled her across the floor toward the bar, where all the ladies would fraternize with their johns. Ryan noted it took all of Tessa’s concentration to remain vertical in those fuck-me heels. Then again, this is her first week on the job. What do you expect? When the man stopped pulling her, Tessa braced herself on the brass handrail to keep from losing her balance and keeling over.

Cute.

Wearing a royal blue cocktail dress that accentuated her wondrous curves and showed off tanned legs, Nicolette (and her shrill shrieks and giggles) sashayed over and joined them. Ryan swallowed his distaste for the hypocrisy, an inherent trait of most of the women who worked here, especially long-time veterans like Nicolette. Their overly compliant voices and dramatic waving of hands roiled his stomach. Though rare, it was refreshing to happen upon a turnout like Tessa. She wasn’t as seasoned – or as counterfeit – as someone like Nicolette.

At least, not yet.

“Hey,” Nicolette greeted the john in a singsong voice.

“How’s it going?”

“It’s going good, ” she said, wiggling her ass. “Oh my gosh, you’re so handsome. Tessa and I are so happy you want to party with us. What better way to start your night than with a double dose of lovin’?”

“Sorry, man,” Ryan said. “What was the question?”

“I’m right with you, bro.” Justin tilted his chin in the direction of the budding triad. “It’s easy to lose yourself from reality in this place when there are women like that strutting their stuff everywhere you turn, isn’t it? Mmm-hmm.” A low and pleasant hum warmed Justin’s blood. “I can’t wait until Kayleigh comes out and I get to party with her again. It’ll be our third time together.”

“I know you can’t.”

“Gotta love the whorehouse,” Justin said, making eyes at Amelia as she traipsed through the parlor in skimpy cutoffs, a short-sleeved button-down shirt tied above her belly button, and cowboy boots, and promptly vanished down the east corridor. “Don’t know where this town would be without it.”

“Agreed,” Ryan said, downing another shot of tequila. “Not even on the map, I’d wager. I doubt Sheriff Spaeth would still want to close this joint down if he ever came here and spent some money at it.” Ryan crossed his ankles beneath the table. “You hear the rumor about him cheating on his wife with the blonde chick who works at Cici’s Marketplace? Spaeth is a horndog just like the rest of us.”

The joke around the fire department was that Ryan and Justin (and their buddy Trevor, as well) were waiting for the day when they could come to Happy Ending Ranch in an official capacity and save these damsels in distress from a blaze or some other malady. Everyone in the station knows we like to drink and shoot the shit here. While they didn’t wish such disaster on anyone, or any local business, it would still be nice to add a couple of sex-crazed prostitutes to their brigade of badge bunnies.

“Well, his wife ain’t nothin’ to write home about.”

Like metal to a magnet, Ryan’s eyes found Tessa again. Long, golden hair cascaded down her shoulders and made Ryan’s fingers twitch with the desire to be buried in it. Fuck. An amused expression highlighted her features as she interacted with Nicolette and their trick at the bar. Can’t wait to see her without the mask. Nothing had changed in the two years since he last saw her. Tessa Tease was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman Ryan had ever seen.

And before the night was through, he was determined to get his money’s worth from her.

“So, are you gonna man up and talk to that MILF or not? You’ve been falling all over yourself since Kayleigh e-mailed me saying Tessa was an employee here now.”

“I gotta wait my turn, dude. She’s with another guy. I just can’t barge in between them, you know.” Perhaps Ryan should’ve heeded Justin’s advice beforehand and booked an appointment with Tessa instead of showing up cold turkey and hoping she’d be available. “That would piss Colt off, and, knowing him, he’d kick us both out.” Ryan exhaled a strained breath and settled back in the old rickety chair. “Patience, dude. Patience.”

Ryan didn’t get the chance to interrupt them, anyway, as mere moments later, whatever spell Nicolette cast on the gentleman seemed to work. Her makeup is packed on thicker than her friendly but fake disposition. So not my type. They’d left the parlor and walked back to her room, with Tessa lugging along behind like a timid puppy. You can tell she’s new. Nicolette hung all over the man, rubbing against his pudgy frame as she ran her fingers through his hair, down his arms, and over his chest, laughing and talking like she didn’t realize she was doing it.

“Maybe you should get a threesome like him,” Justin suggested. “Lucky bastard.”

“I can’t afford to drop two grand here like you can. Besides, you couldn’t pay me to have sex with a plastic, superficial bitch like Nicolette. She’s my least favorite gal of the whole lot; I had a bad experience with her several years ago.” Ryan made a face. “Why don’t you?”

“What? Buy a threesome?” Justin held his hands up in mock surrender. “Nah, man. While I love the eye candy here, I’m only interested in one girl.”

Ryan bobbed his head in recognition. “Kayleigh.”

“Now, if we could clone Kayleigh, yeah, man, I’d get a threesome. Wouldn’t even think twice about it.”

Two days earlier (FLASHBACK)

“So, I want to acknowledge the fact when it comes to selling GFEs, you have to understand most of the guys who come here are, like... kind of gross. They’re disgusting. They’ll ask for stuff that’s kind of... out there, but in order to be successful, you can’t automatically get mad at them, or like, shame them right away for that. You have to disassociate yourself.”

Sultry, smart, and always opinionated, Nicolette was the most seasoned voice of all the current courtesans at Happy Ending Ranch. This Lincoln, Nebraska native grew up attending a modest private Christian school with the goal of one day becoming a nurse. And while she would eventually dress as a nurse, it wouldn’t be at a hospital.

A wild night out at a strip club led to her first dance on stage and a job offer she couldn’t refuse. Rebelling against her parents, Nicolette learned the art of seduction on the stripper pole and how to put her bodacious body to optimal use. In 2008, this chestnut-haired cowgirl migrated from the cornfields to the greener pastures of Nevada, particularly its brothel industry, and never looked back.

In her free time, thirty-three-year-old Nicolette preferred a low-key lifestyle, hanging out with her son and pets, making art, and winning at video games like a pro.

“If you’re aiming to be vanilla and not do extras, like fetishes, don’t start off the bat by being like, I don’t do that or I’m not that type of girl. Don’t be super aggressive because that’s gonna scare almost single every guy off, and you won’t sell any GFEs at all. A man’s mind, you know, is motivated by sex. If they’re in a brothel, it’s especially motivated by sex, so you have to play into that. Not saying you have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, but you do need to play into their fantasies. You don’t have to promise anything, either, but you can’t shame them or make them feel bad for wanting something that may be gross or repulsive to you.”

As her designated Big Sister, it was Nicolette’s task to educate and guide Tessa, a turnout fresh off the street, through her first seven to ten days at her new job. An early phase of the orientation process consisted of discussing the ins and outs of dealing with potential customers.

“So, let’s get into it. A lot of guys will come here and be like, well, how does this work? When they ask that, I’ll tell them we are a full-service, legalized brothel. All the fun happens in the bedroom and out here, in the bar, it’s strictly a drinking and socialization area.

“The reason I tell them that is because it reinforces the notion that the bedrooms are where all the fun and the partying is. We don’t want them to believe that chilling at the bar and window shopping all day or night is okay, so I’m always pushing in one form or another to transition to the bedroom. Besides, once it becomes clear a customer isn’t willing to spend money on us, Colt or Jim will see to it they leave the house. The lone exception is if a customer is slipping you hundreds or giving you like, a bunch of cash, you might as well stay in the bar and pocket it.

“That’s rare, though, so you should always be trying to sell a GFE, and you need to emphasize the bedroom is where everything’s poppin’, everything’s going on, whatever. If they say I just got here, which is super common, it depends on their demeanor. If they’re like, I just got here or, if they’re like I just got here – leave me alone, and they’re like, super rude, I won’t give them the time of day. Fuck you, asshole; I’ll move on.

“But if they’re approachable and I think I have an opportunity at a sale, I’ll be like, oh my gosh, what better way to start your day – or night – than with me. Let’s have a shot and get to know each other.

“For me, I’ll know if a customer is interested in a party within three minutes. Five, tops. I’ll sit and talk for forty-five minutes or an hour if there’s potential and take shots, but they’re fake shots because I don’t like to drink before parties. I used to, but not anymore. But if you take real shots, or fake shots as in my case, it’ll make it appear as if you’re genuinely interested in the man, you’re not right to the point with your real objective, and leading them on becomes much, much easier.”

Tessa laughed, a hearty, genuine chortle. “I’ll be the girl who takes actual shots.”

“Another line I use if I see a man in the parlor is, oh my gosh, you’re super handsome, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to come over and say hi. Something like that strokes their ego and, more often than not, they’ll invite you to sit down and chill for a while.

“If a monger already had a party and is alone at the bar, I’ll introduce myself and say, hey baby, how are you? Looking for some more fun? Nine times out of ten, if they’re still here after saying goodbye to their courtesan, they’re gonna respond yes, I am, because, like I said, their minds are driven by sex.

“A lot of turnouts are afraid to approach men who have just finished a GFE with a different girl because they’re thinking, oh, they’ve already spent money, and they’re not gonna do it again. But in actuality, it shows you that that guy is willing to pay for a GFE, so you should always go up to him and ask if he’s interested in another. You’re a different flavor than the last girl, and even if the guy can’t physically perform again, many get an ego trip by being with three, four, or five girls on the same day. That’s their lifelong fantasy, and a brothel, if they can afford it, is the only place they can live it out.

“Another line I use revolves around telling them I always have repeat customers. So, if you say you have repeat customers and I swear this line works so good, especially if they ask how do I know if you’ll be worth it? I’ll tell them I always have repeat customers and my only goal is their satisfaction. I’ll say their business is important to me because that’s how I pay my bills, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make them happy.” Nicolette relaxed, nursing a Jack and Coke, and keyed in on Tessa’s inquisitive gaze. “But the reality is, I don’t like having regulars unless they pay me more than my average.”

“You don’t? Really?” Tessa did a double take. “Lindsay... Kayleigh, I mean, says having regulars is a huge part of being successful.”

“So, my average is eight hundred an hour, and unless a customer is willing to give me a thousand, I refuse to entertain the thought of him being a regular because someone else might walk in with more money, and I might miss out on them. I’m not gonna miss out on a free-spending tourist because say, for example, I’m giving Cooper, ‘ol reliable, a discount with a six- or seven-hundred-dollar an hour party because he’s been coming to see me for years. If you do that, you’re essentially digging into your own pocket by making it a priority to entertain certain guys on a regular basis. A lot of girls here don’t think that way, nor do they understand it – Kayleigh included – but that’s been my business philosophy since we reopened after lockdown. Trust me, this strategy works. I no longer give discounts to any monger, and over time, I will raise my rate if they want to see me again.” Nicolette leaned back and said in a flat voice, “I’ll tell ‘em it’s inflation.

“See, here’s the thing for me: I’m comfortable lying to the customers because, like, I don’t care. Ninety percent of our clientele are men I wouldn’t dare acknowledge in public. These are filthy, disgusting cretins – cheating on their wives – or they’re loser, never-gonna-accomplish-anything forty-year-old virgins. We get the worst of the worst. I’m here to make money and as long as they had somewhat of a good time, or whatever, it doesn’t matter to me. Some girls are uncomfortable with lying because their whole shtick is they want to be authentic and appreciative. Kayleigh is prime example A of that.

“But me? I think you should go with whatever line, or whatever look... whatever is gonna help make you money. We’re in this industry to get as much as we can before it’s time to get out. I could give a flying fuck about being authentic because if these guys could take me and have me for free, and take advantage of me, they would. They’d do it in a heartbeat and throw me out like yesterday’s trash afterward. They’re gonna hustle you before you hustle them. So, I’m gonna do and say what I have to in order to make money – whether it’s the truth or not – and I think you should, too, Tessa.

“As for the dirtier, raunchier customers, you have to play into them like oh my God, you’re so hot, and I would like to totally hang out with you in real life if I didn’t have to pay my bills. If I wasn’t like, struggling right now, I wouldn’t even charge you.” Nicolette’s dainty hands squeezed into fists. “Oh my God, I’m so excited to get to know you and want to show you the best time. You have to lay it on thick because if you don’t, they won’t believe you, and they won’t spend any money. The more desperate a guy is, the more you have to act. You always want to convince them it’ll be a good time, you like them, and they’re gonna have fun ... whatever fun means to them.

“I’m being real right now, Tessa, and hope you’re not disturbed by this. I know Colt and Kayleigh painted a much different visual of this place during the interview. But I’m telling you what works. I’ve been a sex worker – stripper, prostitute, and webcam model – since I was eighteen. Every single year, outside of 2020, my income has gone up ten, fifteen, twenty percent. And every single year, I improve and rearrange my methods, and look into them and study stuff, and this is what works best for me. If you listen to my advice, I guarantee you you’ll crush it. The men who come here are vile scum and don’t deserve an ounce of dignity or any of my appreciation.”

When he was younger and had money to burn, Ryan would frequent establishments like Happy Ending Ranch and The Sinner’s Paradise, up north in Chimayo, on a regular basis with the sole purpose of finding a willing prostitute for some no-strings fun. And now, still ensconced at the bistro table in the corner patiently waiting for Tessa to become available (and the refill Colt promised him), Ryan was reminded of why he once indulged in these immoral pleasures. Across the way, Justin was becoming more and more lost in his own fille de joie. Lindsay was so outrageous, spirited and sexy, dancing with her arms curled over her head in a curve-hugging minidress, her hips swaying, that Ryan had to resist temptation and remain vigilant to his own conquest.

No, I can’t. That’s Justin’s girl, and he’s my best friend. I can’t ask her to party with me too. It didn’t help that Justin had been talking nonstop about Lindsay, either, since their last party a month ago. That crazy sonofabitch would leave his wife for Kayleigh if he believed there was any chance of them hooking up in real life. Ryan winced at the thought. No ... no! I can’t do it. From the things Justin said about her in recent weeks, Ryan had noticed the inevitable maturation of a recurring client’s yearning for a sex worker transitioning from lust to love relatively fast.

I hope Jordyn doesn’t find out he came here and spent money again. It’ll kill her.

“Oh, good! You have a drink for me. I’m so thirsty.” Lindsay seized the alcoholic beverage intended for Ryan from Colt and slammed it back in a quick gulp. “I’m always game for free tequila shots.” Her lips parted, Lindsay’s eyes then bore into Justin’s as she ran a hand from his wrist to his shoulder, and pushed her fingers into his thick dark hair. “Would you like another table dance, baby?” She slipped her COVID facial covering back into place. “How about a lap dance?”

“What the hell?” Colt said as Lindsay, without regard, jammed the empty shot glass into his chest.

Justin was about to fork over another twenty but withheld it at the last possible second and requested, “Dance with me instead?” He motioned toward the open area behind him. “You and me, Kayleigh, out there. Let’s get it on.”

Grabbing Justin’s collar, Lindsay tugged him toward the makeshift dance floor. “Come on, hotshot. Show me your moves.” She snatched the twenty as compensation and stuffed it down the front of her minidress.

Justin cocooned Lindsay with both arms and held his hand flat against her lower back, keeping their bodies flush. When he began to move in a slow, seductive rhythm, Lindsay wound her arms around his waist and snaked them underneath the back of his T-shirt. The sensations ignited a flash flood of desire. They were already perfectly in tune with each other, and Justin was so damned turned on.

“Holy hell, Kayleigh. It’s getting hot in here.”

She swiveled in his arms, again rolling her hips. His grip tightened and she felt every inch of his arousal against her backside. When the blender whirred with another colorful, icy concoction, Justin noticed that Colt, grumbling to himself, was preoccupied behind the counter. Justin made a fist and, feeling bold, slipped his mask beneath his chin. He splayed kisses along Lindsay’s exposed neck and shoulder, his hands sliding over her abdomen and its smooth, silky surface. A fierce persuasion shadowed her eyes as she glanced over her shoulder and lowered her mask as well. Lindsay smelled like wanton depravity and sweet salvation. One hand ventured northward, stopping shy of her breasts. Justin’s teeth grazed the curve of her neck, and she leaned her head to the side, allowing him easier access.

He dragged his lips across her tender skin and nibbled at her earlobe. “You are so ... impeccably attractive.” One eye checked on Colt, still busy. “I’m in deep with you, angel, and there’s no way out.”

Justin’s husky voice, and the words he said made Lindsay’s flame scorch and morph into something dangerous. This man reeked of ruggedness and charm, and she was drawn to his blue-collar mystique of saving lives for an occupation. Top mongers like this made her feel sexy, wanted, and bolder than she ever thought possible. Lindsay turned her face so he could hear her above the background static and said, “I know you like it deep.”

“God, woman,” he huffed out.

She intensified the sway of her hips, and he ground against her ass. A shudder rumbled through her as he clasped her wrist. Lindsay liquefied against his broad chest, and Justin sealed his teeth over her neck as they danced, nipping and licking and causing the heat to flow through her like lava. Lindsay’s arms again floated up toward the ceiling like wings, lifting her minidress and revealing she wasn’t wearing any panties beneath it.

Everything she did made Justin want her more.

Off to the side, Ryan watched them dancing, wound together like two mating snakes. Lindsay was everything Justin talked her up to be, for sure, and it made Ryan’s blood boil to see her move in sync with another man like this, whether it be his close friend and firefighter comrade or not. Man, this girl could dance. She shimmied up and down Justin’s body and caught Ryan’s hawkish glare, which made her dial things up another notch, giving him an even better show. How could she be doing the sleazy salsa with Justin yet be eye fucking Ryan at the same time? That’s the type of girl who’d fuck both of us in a two-on-one and not even bat an eye. Great, now he was getting hard too. She even tossed in a wink as an added tease before refocusing all her attention on Justin. Ryan wiped the sweat from his neck. I need to book an appointment with Tessa next time so I won’t be subjected to such torture.

A low growl trickled from his lips as Justin turned Lindsay in his arms. His need was all-consuming, and he couldn’t find the strength to keep from yielding to his lust. He assaulted her mouth, kissing Lindsay messy and urgent as his hands migrated to her ass, fastening her against his erection. It unleashed everything he’d been holding back as the kiss seared Justin’s veins and throbbed to his core, claiming every inch of his soul. His muscles strained, and his cock ached in confinement as he succumbed to the velvety warmth of Lindsay’s mouth, the alluring web of her body, and dissolved into a world like nothing he’d ever imagined. A safe, mystical world of their own, where everything felt sensual and idealistic.

“Hey, Ryan. Long time no see, baby.” Elisabeth, yet another prostitute, stepped into his line of vision. “How long has it been since our last party?” She leaned close, displaying formidable cleavage, and drummed her manicured nails on the alcohol-stained tabletop. “It’s my last night in town before I go on break. Buy a gal a drink or two?” She smiled with indecency running amok in her eyes. “Or we can skip the formalities and get our freaks on right away.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He tried to peer around her, wanting to watch the entertainment on the dance floor.

“Aww.” She stood erect and stomped a high heel upon the floor. “We haven’t partied in forever.”

Forcing a smile, he lifted his shot glass and said, “Maybe next time. I already have plans for tonight.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

“Hey, you two, knock it off!” Colt hopped the barricade, stormed over to Lindsay and Justin, and sliced his way between them. “Dancing is fine, but no kissing or groping in the bar. Take it back to a bedroom and do it on the clock, will you? And put your masks on! They’re mandatory.” His tone conveyed an exclamation of wrath and disdain. “You know the rules, Kayleigh.”

Lindsay shifted on her heels to stand with legs planted squarely, shoulders back, chin high, and spoke with enough snark to bury a lesser man, “And you know I always have trouble following them.”

Anticipation decompressing her lungs, Christina dropped down and installed herself on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you for finally, you know ... I’m glad we were able to make this happen, finally.”

“Me too.” Laughter bubbled in her throat as Christina latched onto her soon-to-be trick’s hand and offered a gentle squeeze. “I know we’ve been...”

“For a while.”

“ ... back and forth for, well, yeah, a while. Oh my God.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charlie Winters said, easing Christina’s chin up so he could check out her expressive, luminous eyes. “You look great. Wow, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. I’m so excited we finally got to meet.” The eighteen-year-old glanced down and regarded herself in her whorish attire. She loved her new dress and wished she’d never have to take it off. It glided over her skin like satin and clung to her in all the right places. Christina was also wearing a halter bra that her new casting agent in California purchased for her last week, as well as a silky thong. That was it. Two skimpy pieces of lingerie, the green dress, and a pair of four-inch heels. She wasn’t a high-heels kind of girl, but Duane Grimme insisted that becoming comfortable wearing them would aid her dual career as a prostitute and wannabe porn star.

Tonight, she felt sexy, angelic, and confident. Allowing Mr. Grimme to fuck her for hours on end on Friday afternoon last week in exchange for all the industry advice and the gifts he bestowed on her (and most importantly, the film role) proved worth it after all. You don’t have to please me sexually, Miss Bramwell, she recalled him saying in his Van Nuys office. But if you don’t, forget about getting the part in the movie you say you want so much. I’ll tell the director you’re dragging your feet, and you’ll be out of consideration for it, just like that. There are a lot of other sexy girls who want this part just as much as you do and will be glad to earn it by doing whatever I ask them to.

A half-hour ago, when Charlie looked at her the way he did in the brothel’s parlor, Christina realized tonight could be quite profitable. Business was flourishing, atypical for a Thursday. Lindsay, Nicolette, and Tessa had been charming the pants off their respective gentlemen. Kayleigh is crazy, dancing like a drunken stripper and testing Colt’s patience like that.

As for this party, Christina had already been given the full rundown on Charlie and his history here, courtesy of Jim and Pamela. This man wasn’t afraid to spend excessive amounts of money in order to have a good time, but he came with an asterisk: Keep your guard up, Pamela advised her. Charlie can be quite obsessive. The better you treat him, the more obsessed he becomes.

“I’m sure many people have told you this, but you have beautiful eyes too.” Christina’s tongue flashed between her lips as Charlie added, “In person, it’s more telling than the photographs on the website, so...”

“That’s very kind of you.” Christina brought both hands to her face and cupped it. “My cheeks are burning because you’re making me smile so much!” She gripped his shoulders and trailed down his forearms. “Aww, well, I appreciate your compliments. The scene I filmed last weekend was POV work, and the director stressed how important it was to connect through the camera with my eyes. I’m glad I can connect to you that way too.”

“Yeah, yeah, so am I. So do you, umm, enjoy your job?”

“Oh, I love it.” Christina rubbed her hands together. “Oh my God, I’m literally, like, obsessed all day. I’m always thinking about what’s some fun stuff I can do with a client, or onscreen, or ... you know, meeting new people. Who can I meet today? What scenario or role-play can we do?” Her smile had a naughty aspect to it. “It’s really fun to live out your fantasies, and I get to do it on a daily basis.”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be ... the life.”

“Obviously, you know about me. You’ve read all my reviews on the website and said you’ve e-mailed back and forth with a few mongers who’ve partied with me.”