Chapter 45

“So, how was your day? I mean, I know you had a full schedule, but ... how were the clients? Anything interesting or unusual?”

Under the expansive tapestry of the night sky, the desert stretched out before Lindsay and Donald, a terrain woven with shades of darkness and starlight, its contours illuminated by the soft silver glow of the low-hanging moon. The air was dry, carrying with it the scent of desert blooms and the earthy aroma of sagebrush.

As the two young lovers cuddled on the front porch swing, the distant rumble of a freight train permeated the valley, its rhythmic chugging a subtle reminder of the reality beyond their secluded haven. Above them, the heavens unfurled in a breathtaking display, with constellations twinkling like far-off lanterns and shooting stars streaking across the horizon in arcs of light, inviting these nocturnal wanderers to lose themselves in the timeless beauty of the night.

Lindsay’s lashes fluttered, briefly cloaking her aquamarine eyes before revealing a flicker of astonishment. “You really want to know?” In her three years of prostitution, no one had ever inquired about the details of her work, at least not anyone she felt comfortable confiding in. “I usually don’t discuss my clients. Discretion is a big part of my job, you know?” It was an unspoken industry rule, one that Lindsay preferred not to break.

Donald’s chin dipped in a slow, acknowledging nod. “I get it, baby. I do. And if you’re not feelin’ it, if you wanna keep those secrets locked up tight, that’s totally cool with me. I’m not here to push you outta your comfort zone.” Happy Ending Ranch stood majestic in the background, its veneer ablaze with neon, casting a unique aura over the otherwise dormant neighborhood. “I just ... I want to be there for you in every way I can. If you need someone to talk to, someone to confide in, I’m here. I’m always here.”

“Thank you, Donnie. You’re so sweet. So generous.” Lindsay’s fingers intertwined with Donald’s, their hands fitting together like pieces of a puzzle, a perfect match. In that moment of connection, a vulnerability crept into her expression, softening the usually sharp edges of Lindsay’s carefully crafted façade. Her gaze lingered on their joined hands, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared. “Maybe you’re right.” Lindsay drew in a deep breath, as if steeling herself for the words that were to come. She held it for a moment, a pause rife with hesitation, before releasing it in a slow, measured exhale. “It might be nice to have someone to talk to about all the craziness I have to endure here. You’re my boyfriend, and I trust you implicitly.”

Donald’s grip tightened, an echo of encouragement.

“Okay, well ... let’s see.” Lindsay’s sudden, bouncy shuffle brought forth a lively energy to her posture. “There was Mr. Henderson, the sweet old man who’s probably pushing eighty. His first name is Howard, but I’ve always called him Mr. Henderson. He’s become a regular, always booking cuddle parties because, at his age, that’s about all he can handle.” Lindsay’s lips curved, her thoughts drifting back to the elderly gentleman who cradled her naked body in his arms and sought kisses for sixty minutes.

“He’s such a darling, Donnie. Wears these thick coke bottle glasses that make his eyes look huge. He can barely see a thing, but oddly enough, doesn’t have any problems driving back and forth between here and Wyoming.” Her brows knitted. “Still, it scares me sometimes, thinking of Mr. Henderson out there all alone on the road for hundreds and hundreds of miles. That’s why Colt and Jim have always insisted he calls the ranch as soon as he gets home, just to let us know he’s made it back safely.”

“Mr. Henderson?” Donald suppressed a chuckle, his mouth twitching as he processed both the name and Lindsay’s respectful nature. “That sounds really sweet.” His thumb stroked her knuckles. “That you all care about him so much. It’s not always just a transaction to you, is it? Some of these people, they matter to you.”

She tucked a long, loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “They all matter to me, baby. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m not naïve. I know what I am to them, what this is. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care, that I don’t want them to be happy and satisfied and make it home safe.”

Lindsay’s forehead wrinkled like a sheet of paper crumpled in frustration. “And then, of course, there are the mongers who are all about living out their fantasies. Eddie from today, for example. He’s this guy from Illinois, comes out to Vegas a few times a year for work. And every time, without fail, he schedules an appointment with me and requests the whole cheerleader getup. Pleated skirt, shell top, pompoms, the whole shebang.”

Donald emitted a snort. “Seriously? A cheerleader? What is this, a bad porn movie?”

“Oh, you have no idea. Eddie has this whole scenario worked out in his head, down to the dialogue. I’m supposed to be the innocent, virginal cheerleader, and he’s the big, bad football player who corrupts me.” Lindsay rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance in the gesture. “It’s all very cliché, but hey, who am I to judge? If that’s what gets him going, then I’m happy to play along.”

“I’m sure you are. That’s your job, and you take great pride in it.” Loving this girl came as easy as grilling burgers on a lazy July afternoon. “Seriously, the way you can captivate people, make their wildest fantasies come true? It’s a gift.” Donald’s lips brushed against Lindsay’s moonlit veil of hair, a canvas for his affection, his murmur carrying the weight of understanding as he sought more tales. “Who else did you see today?”

As Lindsay’s storytelling unfolded, a mischievous grin materialized. “Oh, and I can’t forget about my party with Justin and Ryan. Those two ... they’re something else.”

Donald’s eyes went wide and bright, as if in competition with the moon itself. “Oh? The firefighters? Do tell.”

A muted twinkle betrayed a well of excitement held in check. “It was a two-on-one, which made it a wild ride. But with those guys and their obvious affection for me – especially Justin’s – it was on a whole other level.” She leaned forward, realigning her torso to face Donald directly, her eyes locking onto his with focus and intent. “They made me feel like a goddess. Every inch of my body with their hands, their mouths... holy hell. I’ve never come so hard or so often, at least during a party.”

Donald’s head reared back, his balance in sudden disarray. “Is that right?”

“Justin, especially ... that man knows his way around a woman’s body. The things he can do with his hands, his tongue, his dick.” A shiver traversed Lindsay’s backbone, phantom pleasure rippling throughout.

But then, a shadow descended as the corners of her mouth drooped. “I have to be careful with him, though. Justin, I mean. He’s married, but he’s already fallen for me. Hard.”

Donald’s jaw tightened, a steely resolve settling in as he prepared to shield the woman he cared for more than life itself. “What makes you say that? How do you know?”

“It’s the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me.” Lindsay sighed, fingers threading through her hair. “Like I’m the only woman in the world. Like he wants more than just a good time.” Her mouth tightened in a firm line. “Justin is having all kinds of problems at home with his wife. He said that woman hates me.” Her head wagged side to side, accompanied by a self-deprecating smile. “It’s not uncommon in this line of work. Clients falling for their favorite girls. It’s a hazard of the job, I guess.”

“This woman hates you? His wife? Has she even met you?”

“Of course not.”

Donald reached out, his hand encasing Lindsay’s in a comforting grasp. “But you don’t ... you don’t feel the same way, right? About Justin, or any of these guys?”

“No. No way, baby. You’re the only man I want. The only man I’ll ever need.” She lifted his hand, her lips dancing around his fingers. “I care about my clients, sure. I want them to feel good, to have a memorable experience. But that’s all it is. A transaction, a fantasy. A sale for the house.” She leaned in and bumped foreheads with Donald. “What you and I have? Now that’s real. That’s love. And no amount of mind-blowing sex or starry-eyed mongers will ever change that.”

Donald’s breath escaped in a shuddering exhale, his body relaxing as the tension melted away. “I know, honey. I trust you. I really do.” Still, he grappled with feelings of jealousy, a familiar foe that reared its ugly head from time to time. “It’s just ... the thought of anyone else holding your heart, even a little piece of it...”

“Hey,” Lindsay interjected, hands cradling his face. “My heart belongs to you, Donald Stanlick. Wholly and completely. Never doubt that.” She punctuated her words with a kiss, her lips reaffirming in volumes her dedication. Tongues coiled and snaked together in a sensual ballet, Donald’s arms coming around to ensnare Lindsay until they were both left breathless.

In the aftermath, she rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on his chest. A far cry from her usual polished appearance inside the brothel, she wore a pair of well-worn denim shorts and a faded T-shirt that had seen better days. The shorts were frayed at the edges, clinging comfortably to her legs, while the T-shirt, perhaps once vibrant, was now softened and dulled from countless washes, loosely adhering to her frame.

Her hair, typically styled to perfection, was pulled back into a loose ponytail, strands escaping here and there to frame her tired face. The lack of makeup revealed Lindsay’s natural beauty, albeit underscored by the fatigue that shadowed her eyes and the slight droop of her shoulders. In her relaxed, unguarded state, she exuded a quiet, weary charm, the kind borne of a long, hard day’s work.

As the silence stretched between them, from seconds to minutes, Lindsay sensed a palpable unease emanating from Donald, threatening their tranquility. “Donnie? What’s on your mind, baby? What’s wrong?”

His expression shifted, torn between conflicting emotions. “It’s just ... being here, seeing you with the other girls, I can’t help but notice how different you are from them. How much more you seem to enjoy your work.”

Her head gave in to a tilt that made her look like a hound hearing a whistle for the first time. “What do you mean?”

Donald’s lips parted, but no words emerged. He rubbed his temples, as if hoping to lure them to the surface. “The others, they just seem ... I don’t know, bitter, somehow. Especially Nicolette.” There was a deep-set frown on his face. “What’s her deal, anyway? She’s all friendly with her clients, but the moment they’re out of sight, she’s tearing them down to Kenzie and Elisabeth. Those girls act like some kind of vigilante posse.”

“Nicolette? She’s a complicated one. She’s been in this business a long time. Longer than most.” Lindsay’s fingers tapped a restless beat along the edge of the porch swing, a subtle percussion as she gathered her thoughts. “And I believe, somewhere along the way, Nicolette lost sight of why she started doing this in the first place.

“It’s easy to get jaded, you know? To start seeing your mongers as nothing more than walking wallets.” With each word, Lindsay’s voice grew heavier, the burden of sadness becoming more pronounced. “But that’s a dangerous mindset to fall into. Because once you stop caring, once you stop finding joy in the work, that’s when it starts to eat away at you.”

“And you think that’s what happened to Nicolette? She stopped caring?”

“I think she’s trying to protect herself.” Lindsay spoke in hushed tones, as if she was sharing a secret meant only for Donald’s ears. “From getting hurt, from letting anyone get too close. So she puts up this wall, this façade of the perfect, untouchable courtesan. But underneath it all, I think she’s just lonely. And afraid.”

Lindsay shifted closer, her head again gravitating toward that familiar spot on Donald’s shoulder. “It’s a hard life. It takes a toll, no matter how much you love the work. That’s why I’m so grateful to have you. To have someone who sees me, all of me, and loves me just the same.”

Donald reeled her in for another embrace. “Always, honey. You’re my world, you know that? My heart, my home. The only thing that truly matters.”

As comfortable silence stretched between them, Donald couldn’t help but marvel at the woman in his arms – her strength, her resilience, and the way she managed to find joy and purpose in the most challenging of circumstances. How many of her mongers would trade life and limb just to be in his shoes right now?

“Oh, I just remembered! Tina is due back on Monday evening. This will be her first time back since pre-COVID.”

“Tina? A working girl? I don’t recall that name from the website.”

A small grin stole Lindsay’s red, full lips. “Oh, you’ll like her, Donnie. An older gal from New Jersey, a part-timer. Tina is a real sweetheart. And she genuinely enjoys the work, you know? Not as much as I do, of course, but still.” Lindsay’s eyelid fluttered into a wink. “But she finds real fulfillment in it. It’s refreshing to see.”

Donald’s laughter bubbled up, a raucous melody. “Well, I don’t think anyone could love this job as much as you do. You truly are in a league all your own.”

A self-satisfying smirk played at the corners of her mouth. “Damn straight. I’m the hardest-working, most dedicated hoe there is, and I’ve got the track record to prove it. I really want Courtesan of the Year.”

“Three-hundred and ninety-eight mongers and counting, right?” Despite striving for composure, Donald’s chest caved inward, a maelstrom of admiration and unease roiling within. His prolonged breath served not to cleanse but to anchor him amid the emotional tempest brewing. The stark whiteness of his knuckles, as they clutched the swing, laid bare the turmoil: a tumultuous blend of pride for Lindsay’s ambition and a sharp twinge at the thought of what her ultimate goal entailed. “That’s the latest count, huh?”

“And two-thousand one-hundred-eight to go. I’m going to break Pamela’s house record one day, Donnie. Oh, believe me. I will.” Lindsay’s gaze hardened, a fierce determination oozing from every fiber of her being, a relentless flame catapulting her toward her goal.

Donald blew out his cheeks. “I have no doubt, sweetie. You can do anything you set your mind to.” His voice was timid, masking the whirlwind of conflicting feelings. As he squeezed her hand, a silent vow formed within him – to support Lindsay, no matter how her career aspirations tangled with his personal struggles. “I know how much overtaking Pamela’s record means to you.”

“She was the best, ” Lindsay said, her voice laced with reverence. “The best this business, this industry, has ever seen. And I want to carry on her legacy.”

As Lindsay sought another kiss from Donald, a riptide of emotions swirled within her. With each caress of his lips, her heart run amok with gratitude, and an overwhelming sense of fortune washed over her. How had she come to find someone like Donald, who not only embraced her unconventional career but actively encouraged and supported her in it?

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was once a client too. How could Donald object when their GFE in November 2019 proved to be the trigger for their relationship? The event that jumpstarted it at all?

Yet, beneath the surface of Lindsay’s contentment, a worm of doubt burrowed through her thoughts. It whispered insidious tales of imbalance, of the gulf between his dedication and her career’s demands. Guilt, like a serpent, twined around Lindsay’s heart, constricting tight at the memory of her exaltation over Justin and Ryan’s attentions. The fear of hypocrisy loomed large, throwing shade over her true commitment to Donald.

But Lindsay’s life was irrevocably stitched with the threads of her profession, a vibrant part of her being that she couldn’t, wouldn’t sever. In Donald, she’d found her harbor, her sanctuary from the storm. He was her constant, her north star in the voyage they navigated, tethering her to a reality where her dual worlds merged.