Chapter 8

“Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here, will you?” Kenzie was ready to captivate in a pair of dangerously short denim cutoffs that were rolled up even higher and a pink tank top with the telltale sign of a bikini strap tied around her neck. Overhead, the blazing sun roasted her like caramelized vegetables in an oven. After pulling the elastic band from her obsidian-black tresses and shaking them free, Kenzie lowered her oversized sunglasses and regarded Lindsay as the eighteen-year-old, scuffing her shoe, meandered on to the back porch. “You’re up early, girl.”

It may have only been ten o’clock, but the temperature was ninety-four degrees, and the forecast called for it to reach triple digits by noontime. Prepared, Kenzie sipped an ice-cold bottled water and nibbled on a protein bar.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lindsay huffed and stomped a foot for theatrical effect. “Tell me about it.”

She woke up an hour ago and had already taken care of her hair and make-up. If a customer stopped by and requested a lineup, all Lindsay would have to do is change into her “hooker garb” (her term) and wait by the kitchen for Jim to give the cue to proceed to the lap dance room. She could switch outfits in less than three minutes – she had been practicing – and wouldn’t be late.

“That guy was a real jerk last night.” Lindsay choked back a sob and blinked through yet another round of tears. “I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

Kenzie motioned toward the chair across the way. “Sit down, hon. I agree, he was. Want to talk about it?” She adjusted her shades to combat the intense glare. “I felt sorry for having to leave you with him.”

Emotions thickening her chest, Lindsay plopped down with an audible thud. She wished every client was as fun and exciting as Sammy but learned a harsh lesson last evening: they’re not. “Eric wasn’t in a good mood from the outset.” A lump had grown in Lindsay’s throat, her voice a whisper. “And it never improved.”

“He was an asshole. You’ll meet plenty of them working here, trust me. It comes with the territory.” Kenzie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shrugged the incident off like it was nothing. She’d dealt with her share of dickheads over the years both in and out of the house. “Don’t allow it affect you, okay?” Kenzie reached for Lindsay’s hand. “It’s over. My God, Kayleigh. You let everything bother you here. You got paid for your time. Let it go and move on. What’s done is done.”

“Five hundred and ten dollars.” A cold shudder wracked Lindsay’s body. I hope every customer from here on out isn’t like him. Perhaps the party with Sammy was an anomaly? God, I hope not. I’ll go back to Citronelle if so. “I was hoping for more like six or seven hundred.” I refuse to be dehumanized like that ever again.

“Fuck that asshole!” Kenzie slipped off the sunglasses and shielded her eyes. “Worrying like this isn’t worth your time.”

Lindsay grabbed a clump of hair and gazed heavenward. I don’t belong here. I’m in way over my head. “What if he leaves me a horrible review on the website?” The thread Sammy started yesterday stood at twenty-seven responses and everything about it was positive. Six people claimed they wanted to party with Lindsay because of Sammy’s praise. But if Eric, the trick from last night, left negative feedback, would it offset all the positives?

“You don’t need to worry about Eric posting something nasty and others seeing it. Colt or Jim would take it down. If they miss it or are busy, Colt has a webmaster who monitors the site day and night, and he removes anything negative. You’ll never read a negative review of any girl on the site.”

“That’s good to know, I guess.” This wasn’t the time for an emotional breakdown, even if Lindsay was justified in having one. I opened myself up to evil men like Eric by wanting to work here. I’m just as much to blame for what happened as he is, if not more. “But what if the customer bitched about me in the exit interview with Jim?” Her gaze was pained, watery. “I know he did. He had to. He said he was going to.”

The expression on Kenzie’s face was somewhere between annoyance and empathy. To her, Lindsay was a whiner and refused to let things go. “Kayleigh, honey, don’t worry. That guy was a fucking loser. Jim listened in during your party and knows things got off to a rocky start because of the negotiations. He also knows what an inconsiderate prick he was for the entire hour too. Stop worrying!” Kenzie again snatched Lindsay’s hand and swept her thumb over it. “Colt will listen to what happened once he and Pamela return from their day out, I’m sure. Everything gets recorded, you know, right? They won’t hold it against you if the guy showed up in a horrible mood and left in a horrible mood. It’s not your fault. Nothing you could have done would have made him happy.”

“But...”

“Were you courteous to him? Did you do everything he asked during the party? Were you gracious, responsive? Did you thank him afterward and ask him to come visit the ranch again? That’s all you can do.” Kenzie unwound and gazed at Lindsay with a heavy heart. “I talked to Jim after the fact and he told me nothing you said or did was wrong. Everything you said was correct and by-the-book. You. Can’t. Please. Everyone!”

Lindsay looked down at her Chuck Taylors. “I’m a failure.” She glanced up and again made eye contact. I shouldn’t be here right now. But I am, and I’m screwed.

“You are not a failure. You’re a good girl, Kayleigh. You have drive, ambition, goals, and a loving spirit.” A soft breeze picked up Kenzie’s hair, stirring the strands around her cheeks. “You want to work hard, please others, and be successful at your job. And best of all, you’re sweet as candy – a little cutie pie. You have a bright future in this business but need to work on the mental side of things.” Kenzie patted her thigh. “Stop antagonizing yourself.”

“I don’t want any trouble or for Colt or Pamela to have any bad thoughts about me.” A size or two too small, Lindsay’s nightshirt with the cookie monster designs stretched tight across her breasts. “You know I’m still the new girl here. I mean, I need this job!” Even if I’m not ready or deserving of it.

“Fuck that guy, baby. Forget him. How many times do I have to tell you?” Kenzie waved a dismissive hand. “Colt, Jim, or Pamela won’t be upset. Trust me, I’ve been here for years. I know how they think.”

“And what happens if Eric ever comes back and, God forbid, wants to party with me again?” Lindsay rolled her face, her expression shadowed.

“Decline his ass. Tell him no.” After his act last night, Kenzie doubted Colt or Jim would let Eric through the front door again. They’d refuse him before he had the chance to ask for another party with Lindsay, or anyone else.

For as wonderful of a time as she had with Sammy on Tuesday evening, last night was the exact opposite for Lindsay. Pamela was away at the hotel in Ambridge, so yet another opportunity to lose her lesbian cherry slipped away. Customers passed Lindsay over during the first seven lineups of the day – a real bummer – but she got chosen in the eighth. That should have ended the night on a high note, but Eric, a client visiting from Arizona, had a sour attitude from the outset.

With Kenzie chaperoning the conversation at the bar as Lindsay’s fill-in Big Sister, Eric admitted to having a “shitty day” and was looking to relieve some stress. He was obnoxious, arrogant, and a complete jerk, but Lindsay was intent on making money and agreed to escort him back to her bedroom to discuss pricing.

Things tumbled downhill in a hurry.

Kenzie took care of the negotiations and Eric flat-out laughed when she mentioned Lindsay’s prices were $700 an hour for a GFE. It was a high quote, yes, but also fully negotiable. Kenzie said $700 because she wanted to maximize the profit for both Lindsay and the house. Personally, she refused to sell herself for anything less than $600 for a one-hour GFE. Kenzie had her standards, lofty as they might be.

Eric shot back that was a rip-off and refused to go any higher than $400. “Ain’t no piece of pussy worth seven hundred bucks. I can go up north and pay four hundred for the same damn thing. Hell, for seven hundred, I should get to fuck her in the ass, too, without a condom, and make her clean my dick off with her mouth.”

“Anal sex is prohibited here, sir,” Kenzie said in a calm, businesslike tone, though she was seething with rage inside, “and if you’d like to drive three-and-a-half or four hours north in the middle of the night to pay a lesser price, by all means, be our guest.” Kenzie wanted to rip this man a new one, but since he was a customer, she couldn’t. “We don’t want you to go elsewhere, but you’re more than welcome to. It’s your decision.”

“We can go lower than seven hundred, baby.” Lindsay should have declined the party after his comment but was determined to have one before bedtime. All the other girls had at least one party throughout the day. “I’d like to show you a good time and put a smile on your face.”

Lindsay asked Kenzie to continue the negotiations. She agreed, but also motioned for Lindsay to zip her mouth and let her do all the talking.

After a contentious back and forth, Eric agreed to $510 for one hour. Just ten bucks above the house minimum, Kenzie equated the negotiations to trying to squeeze blood out of a turnip. The issue wasn’t that Eric was looking for the lowest price and wanted to save money. Kenzie never blamed a monger for that. Instead, it was more about the way he presented himself. Eric was rude and disrespectful – one of the worst clients she had ever dealt with – and it stunned her that Lindsay agreed to party with him at all.

Because they couldn’t agree on at least $600, though, Lindsay’s room and board fee for the day didn’t get waived. That sucks, but at least I’ll make some decent cheddar tonight, was her train of thought. It’s better than nothing.

After the dick check, payment, and shower (another thing Eric complained about), he reentered the bedroom and found an anxious, smiling Lindsay seated on the edge of the bed. She flaunted a frilly little chemise, stockings, and modest high heels, and looked like an angel on a mercy mission from Suck City. “Hi, baby. I’ve been waiting for you.” She flashed him a pearly smile. “What would you like me to do first?”

“How about you shut your fucking mouth – I’m not paying you to talk – get down on your knees, and do your job? Blow me, you overpriced whore.”

Lindsay recoiled as if she’d been slapped. Although she had become more accepting of that word in recent times, she reverted to when Jim took her to the sheriff’s station and the old hag behind the desk called her a whore. Lindsay came close to having an outward reaction again, but dropped to her knees, rolled a condom on to Eric’s shaft, and offered a sterile, unenthusiastic blowjob.

How was this possible? Lindsay’s blonde head bobbed back and forth as she kept both hands on the base of Eric’s dick, her eyes closed, yet she experienced no pleasure and was crying inside. I love sucking cock more than anything, but I don’t want to be with this horrible man right now. She didn’t understand what was happening, or why. How can I feel no emotion or joy sucking dick? What did I do wrong? Why is he being so hateful?

I wanna be back home in Citronelle with Mom, Dad, my sisters, and all my friends.

“You like cleanin’ that cock, don’t you?” Eric put his hand on the back of Lindsay’s head and applied pressure, urging her to go faster. “It’s all girls like you are good for.” He reached down, lifted the hem of her chemise up and over her head, and tossed it elsewhere. “How many guys have you fucked today, whore? Am I number five? Ten?”

Lindsay kept quiet but stayed busy cocksucking. A growing rage surged through her veins. Keep it together. I have to get through this.

“This was a five-hundred-dollar mistake,” he said at another point. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

“You’re not even any good at this. You should be fired.”

“No, do it like this ... No, do this ... No, try this ... Dumb, stupid girl; you’re all gums!” Each word from his lips felt like a thorn digging into Lindsay’s heart.

Eric made her crawl on her hands and knees over to the recliner, where he took a seat and received another round of fellatio. Lindsay tried responding to one of his mean quips this time, but he jammed his hand over her mouth and said, “Shhhhh. Every time you talk, it goes down.”

Lindsay was soon taken back to the bed where she got fucked in the missionary position and on her side, only to sink further into bleak despair. Her face was tight, an uncomfortable scowl, as she glared at him and continued to endure his insults.

“If I catch a disease from you, rest assured, I’m pressing charges.”

The hour-long session ended with Lindsay on her hands and knees and Eric fucking her as hard as possible. Nothing positive came from this encounter, no satisfaction. Heat licked Lindsay’s skin and her limbs vibrated. I want to do terrible things to this man! She was expressionless because Eric did nothing but degrade and belittle her from start to finish.

“I didn’t even nut off. I’m complaining to your pimp boss; I demand a refund. Hopefully, he beats the shit out of you later as a punishment. You deserve it.”

For such a friendly, small-town girl who radiated positive energy at all times, no one had ever treated Lindsay this way. Did making me feel worthless get him off? What other reason could there be for the way he acted? I know I’m not a bad fuck. No one has ever complained, including Sammy. He said I was the best he’s ever had.

“Jim was outside your room with his hand on the doorknob for at least half the party, if not three-quarters of it,” Kenzie said. “He was waiting for you to object to anything that guy did, tell him no, and was gonna burst in and toss his ass out onto the street if he didn’t listen to you. It blew Jim away you never objected to anything Eric said or how he treated you.”

Lindsay picked at her fingernails and brought a knee up to her chest. “Colt says the customer is always right and I must please him or her at all costs.” She cast her eyes to the side, away from Kenzie, and they clouded up.

“Not customers like him!”

Someone who didn’t know Kenzie may think she was a pushover because of her sweet, good-natured personality, but Lindsay knew better. Kenzie was straightforward and not afraid to stand up for herself. I wish I was strong like you. You remind me of Pamela.

“I still cannot believe you wanted to party with him. With the attitude he had during negotiations, I would’ve told him no.” Kenzie squinted against the sun. “So would every other girl here. But you were hellbent on fucking him, so I kept negotiating. Money, money, I know ... you want it. We all do.”

Lindsay ground her teeth, the shame and humiliation clawing into her. “I’ll remember that for next time, I guess.” When the ordeal was over and Eric left, Lindsay trudged off to the washroom and took a long, hot shower. The water seared her skin until it became a bright pink, and she contemplated calling her mother and begging her to come rescue her and take her back to California but decided against it. I can’t. That’s no longer an option. I burned that bridge already.

Kenzie again leaned back in the rocking chair and got more comfortable. “That guy is a prime example of why Jim, Colt, the bartenders at night ... someone is always listening in during our negotiations and usually the party itself via surveillance. Jim was on red alert the moment Eric entered the house. He said he almost asked him to leave a few minutes after he showed up.”

“I wish he did.” Being with Eric was a nightmare and Lindsay wondered if she’d ever recover from it. I won’t be able to handle another party like that again. I’ll press the panic button next time and the cops can come for all I care, guns-a-blazin’. I refuse to be treated like trash.

“The alternative to working in a brothel is street hooking. Meeting some random guy in a casino, for example, going up to his hotel room, and him fucking you up something fierce if things don’t go right. There’s no Jim, no Colt to protect you, and maybe you wind up in the hospital. Or worse.” Lindsay froze at the seriousness in Kenzie’s voice. “But here, you’re safe. No one is going to harm you. Ten to twelve employees are in the house at all times, and we all look out for one another.”

I can’t go home. Not now, not anymore. Things would never be the same once Lindsay fessed up to her family about what she had done here. Mom and Dad would disown me! I need to tough it out and save some cheddar for the future. Last night was awful, but according to what she’d just heard, it could have been much worse. Eric didn’t assault or attack me, at least.

“I’ll never turn tricks outside the house. Not in a million years.” Kenzie put her sunglasses back on and swept her dark hair away with both hands. “Lots of girls do, even ones working here now. Me? I enjoy the feeling of safety the brothel provides and, more importantly, I enjoy my freedom. I don’t want to go to jail.”

“Does Pamela ... turn tricks?” Lindsay lowered her voice and leaned in closer. “Illegally?”

“Pamela? Turning tricks? On the street, you mean? No way.” Kenzie offered a bemused smile. “She owns the brothel along with Colt and an arrest for solicitation would not only put an end to her career, but it would also be the death knell for the brothel as well. City council wouldn’t hesitate to revoke its license. Colt and Pamela, they’d be out of business forever.”

Lindsay nodded, having already known that. Two nights ago, though, she had a dream that she and Pamela worked the streets of Vegas as a duo and fucked every guy willing to pay their exorbitant fee. When it was all said and done, I was writhing around on the bed, and Pamela showered me in hundred-dollar bills!

“Get that guy out of your mind. You’ll never see him again. Just call it a learning experience, okay?”

Lindsay crossed her arms, her muscles twitching. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“Good, that’s my girl. Don’t. Move on.”

“I don’t know if Aaliyah likes me.” Changing topics, Lindsay had a slack expression and pointed way out yonder toward Aaliyah, the African American stunner, who was doing Pilates in the far corner of the yard. A fitness enthusiast, twenty-eight-year-old Aaliyah could be found exercising both morning and evening in the backyard unless she was with a customer. She would prefer to do her workout regime at Flagstone Fitness or go for a jog around the block but didn’t want to take the chance with Sheriff Spaeth and his deputy watchdogs lurking at every corner.

“I don’t know what I did wrong to her. Aaliyah, I mean.” Unequipped to deal with conflict, Lindsay tapped her foot on the ground. “I said hello to her this morning, and she gave me the meanest, nastiest look. I was like, what the hell? Do you know if she’s mad at me? And if so, for what?”

“No idea,” Kenzie lied.

Aaliyah threw a tantrum in front of Scarlett, Sahara, Riley, and Nicolette last evening after Eric chose Lindsay from the lineup. Kenzie heard about it afterward and knew word would soon trickle down to Colt and Pamela (if it hadn’t already). Jim was aware of the situation too.

“I am sick and tired of that little brat!” Aaliyah said. “Eighteen and comes in here and thinks she runs the fucking joint. Believes every customer should choose her during every lineup like she’s somehow better than us. Bullshit! Scampers off and pouts in the corner like a child when she gets passed over. Entitled, self-centered little cunt. Thinks everything is all about her. Her mommy and daddy probably spoon-fed her and gave her everything she ever wanted until the day she moved out. Well, guess what, girlfriend? Things aren’t that way in the real world. Time to fucking grow up!”

Scarlett and Sahara exchanged concerned glances.

“I don’t think Kayleigh is that bad,” Riley said. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

“She’s a kid, Aaliyah,” Scarlett tried to remind her. “Only eighteen. Everything here is all new to her, so foreign to anything she’s ever known, and I doubt Kayleigh realizes she’s giving that impression. None of us enjoy being passed over in lineups, you included. Give her time. Pamela said she was going to talk to her about handling her emotions better and the way she presents herself.”

“Kayleigh is exhibit A of why I fucking hate turnouts! Clueless bitches; they come here with the idea that all they gotta do is lie on their backs and count the money as it keeps pouring in. They think all the tricks they’ll fuck are polite, older versions of the guys they fucked back home, they smell of breath mints and cologne, and everything is wonderful, it’s all peachy. But soon enough, reality sets in and these fucking turnouts get put to the ultimate test.

“Look at the way Kayleigh stutters and blushes and stares at the carpet during lineups. And she runs off and cries when she isn’t chosen. Y’all know what I’m talkin’ about! Kayleigh won’t make it here. She needs to go back to wherever the hell it is she came from – Palm Springs, I guess – ask her mommy and daddy for a diaper change and be put back into her crib. Permanently!”

“Wow. That’s a little rough, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not!” she fired back at Scarlett.

“I don’t think Kayleigh is going anywhere,” Sahara said. “Pamela is sweet on her. You know she controls Colt and his thoughts. He’d never send her packing unless Pamela agreed to it first.”

Nicolette nodded. “Pamela is in love with Kayleigh.”

“Then fuck Pamela too! You think I give a damn what she thinks? That I’m scared of her because she’s the boss’s wife? If you do, you straight trippin’.” Aaliyah possessed a hair-trigger temper and often thundered into expletive-laden tirades over the simplest things.

She led a difficult life in recent years, double dipping as a street hooker in New York City and had a history of cocaine, rehab, chlamydia and trichomoniasis infections, prison sentences, and failed relationships. Those hardships had taken a massive toll and she wasn’t always the most pleasant person to deal with.

Still, Aaliyah treated her customers like gold. Despite the volatile pot of wrath always brewing within, Aaliyah’s job was secure because she made the brothel top dollar.

“I refuse to work at a house where some little eighteen-year-old newbie thinks she’s better and more deserving than everyone else. Fucking Kayleigh. That little cunt couldn’t walk a mile in my shoes.” Aaliyah’s brown eyes flashed, and her chest rose under her next inhale. “I’ve been doing this for close to a decade and never once have I thought I was entitled to anything. Shiiiiit!” She made wild, sweeping gestures with her arms. “I’ve worked for everything in life and always treated all the other working girls, especially the older ones when I was young myself, with respect. That’s how I’ve survived this long.”

With Aaliyah’s rant in mind, Kenzie said to Lindsay in the current time, “I’d leave Aaliyah alone for a couple of days. Don’t talk to her, don’t look at her. She cycles through various moods and you gotta let them pass. Who knows? Aaliyah might’ve had a bad party herself last night. My suggestion is to be kind, be respectful, and things will work themselves out in the end. Trust me, okay? Remember, we’re all in this together. Us working girls need to support one another as best we can.”

Lindsay glowered. “Because no one else will.”

----

“Oh, you are such a rebel.” Colt inclined his head and shot Pamela a glare. “What are you doing? Don’t open that! You’re gonna get yourself caught and we’ll both wind up in trouble.”

“Haven’t been caught yet, have I?” In the health and beauty care section of Naturetyme Market, an upscale, high-end grocery megastore in Oakfall, Nevada, Pamela made sure the coast was clear one final time and popped the cap from a bottle of body mist perfume. “Gotta see if I like it or not.” She spritzed a dose on her wrist and took a hearty, drawn-out sniff. “Hmm, sweet. What do you think?” After extending her hand to Colt’s nose for a few seconds, Pamela put the cap back on and dropped the bottle into their shopping cart.

“You know you’re not supposed to open products and put them back on the shelf if you don’t like them.” Colt was displeased but couldn’t suppress his smile either. “I’m sure a grocery store this large has cameras everywhere. One of these days, you’re going to wind up on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List. I can see it now – Wanted: Pamela McCarron, The Queen Heaux of Flagstone.” He shivered. “You’ll be on your own after that. Count. Me. Out.”

“You’re so silly.” Pamela’s face was bright, rosy. “Not going to stand by your wife in her time of need, huh?” Her grin became wider. “Besides, I didn’t put it back on the shelf. It’s in the cart. I’m buying it.”

Colt huffed. “You’ve put many things you’ve sampled back on the shelf over the years. You’re a bad, bad girl, Pammy. A rebel. A criminal.” He made a motorcycle-like noise with his mouth. “So hot.”

“Stop being silly!”

Several items were scattered throughout their cart already, though they entered the store a short time ago. Since the selection at this grocer was much larger and more diverse than anything Flagstone Foods offered, Pamela thought it was time to stock up.

“You’re right, though. Others may think of me as a dumb hoe, but I’m not. I’m Queen Heaux.”

He shot her another sidelong glare. “I don’t think anyone has ever questioned your intelligence. At least, not anyone who matters.”

Pamela hardened her brow. “You’d be surprised.”

“Buy whatever you want, babe. I don’t mind.” Colt browsed the aisles as he allowed her to guide him. “Although, I still think we should stop at Taco Bell before we go back to the house.” He gave her a flirty once-over. Looking fit and fabulous, Pamela showed off her amazing physique in a black crop top and leggings and wore her long blonde hair in a ponytail with a baseball cap over top of it. Colt’s eyes drifted south and settled on her pelvis. “I don’t know about you, but I have a hardcore craving for a spicy, red-hot chalupa right about now.”

“You’re crazy. Crazy and silly.” Pamela laughed again as Colt waggled his eyebrows. “Absolutely not! No Taco Bell.” She pursed her lips, hopeful. “How about we get takeout from Viva la Vegan instead?”

His eyes darted back up to hers. “Sure, we can do that. It won’t be much of a wait if we call and order ahead of time once we’re out in the Pamelamobile.” He moved closer, his breath soft and hot on her neck. “I’ve enjoyed being out and about with you these past twenty-four hours. Thank you, sweetheart. We both needed this.”

She flashed her teeth. “I’ve enjoyed it, too, baby. It’s been fun.”

Their time away from the brothel started yesterday morning with Colt’s offer to take Pamela and Scarlett to the hotel in Ambridge so they could sleep following their overnight party with Charlie. After getting a bite to eat in the afternoon, Colt talked Pamela into going back to the hotel and lying down while he returned Scarlett to Flagstone. He drove right back to Ambridge but made a stop at the local market first.

Colt bought Pamela some leafy greens, a whole pineapple, fresh strawberries, three bottled waters of her favorite brand, and a Glambox (a twelve-compartment tray) for her many tubes of lipstick at the ranch. She needed one because the last holder she had recently broke. At the moment, all her lipsticks were spread in a drawer.

He bought her an ice cream too. He’d gone overboard, yes, but no expense was too high for his Pamela.

Once they return to work later today, she would find four dozen long-stem roses waiting in a vase on top of the bar. Colt ordered them last evening from Flagstone Florist Direct and they were delivered this morning.

But last night? Last night was all about Pamela. She was delighted at the items her husband purchased and melted into the bed when he offered a deep, full-body massage and finger-fed her strawberries at the same time. The heat pad on her back worked wonders. They cuddled for hours like newlyweds and spoke about several topics.

Colt ran off to a Basque-style restaurant and brought her back a delicious mushroom soup and a tray of vegan chips for dinner. As the night progressed, they transitioned to the spacious, old-world bathtub, and he gave her another rubdown.

But here’s the kicker: nothing that happened was sexual. Colt didn’t lay a finger on her in an erotic, forward manner all night. He didn’t even want his wife to think about sex.

Being able to hold and cherish Pamela and remind her of how precious she was with constant angel kisses across her face and forehead was far better than sex. It was superior in every way because Colt was gravely concerned for her.

I wish Charlie picked someone other than you for his coming out party. You’re still exhausted. How much longer can you go at this pace before something horrible happens?