Chapter 1

The shirt didn't fit, of course. I sighed. I didn't have time to get a new custom one, even if I knew where to find a good tailor in Carson City. I stared at my old shirt. No way I was going to get that stain out either. I tugged at the right sleeve of the new one, trying to stretch it over the remaining inch to my wrist. No go. Maybe I should have bought the larger shirt, I mused. Except that the extra length on my left wrist got in the way, which was far more annoying than being too short on the right. I sighed and continued getting dressed.

Some anthropologists once did a comprehensive survey of what human cultures considered beautiful. There was one consistent trait—symmetry. Every human culture in existence said that the person with symmetric physical features was the beautiful one.

I'm the ugly one.

Of course I'd done what I could to fix that. The braces had cost a fortune in my early twenties when I was barely making a dime. Years of experimentation had finally found a decent treatment for the acne that had threatened to overwhelm every inch of my face as a kid. I'd learned to dress to hide most of my deformities. But some things just couldn't be hidden.

There was nothing I could do about my eyes or ears. They were uneven in opposite directions—the left ear and right eye both higher than their partner and unevenly spaced from my nose.

My nose. I sighed thinking about it. The plastic surgeon had quoted a very high price due to issues with my septum. I hoped today's use for that money was worth passing that up.

At least modern fashion helped. I'd shaved my head as soon as it became fashionable for men. True, I had a lumpy skull, but it was better than the patchy straw hair that stuck every which way. The mustache and goatee concealed the deformities in my lips. I'd missed a cleft palate by the barest of points in the genetic lottery.

I gave up tugging on my shirt sleeves and reached for my pants. Clothes were my saving grace—they had to be since they had to be custom made. The extra heel height in my left shoe balanced out my height and helped my walk look more normal. The extensive scars across my abdomen from childhood surgeries were discreetly hidden away. I put my glasses on and I glanced in the mirror. I looked as good as I ever would.

I found Kit Kat Lane with little trouble. Parking the rental car, I headed up the walk. I took a deep breath before ringing the bell. The gate buzzed and swung open. I swallowed my nervousness and headed up to the main building.

They were still assembling the line-up as I entered. The house mom almost covered her shocked look on seeing me. Not all the girls were as successful.

"Welcome to Fantasy Ranch," the house mom said, stopping just far enough back to discourage any handshake or other greeting. "May I introduce our ladies?"

I nodded and she began.

I really didn't track their names. Ten courtesans had lined up, in various ethnicities and hair colors and clothing styles. I scanned their faces. Most avoided meeting my eyes. Two had pasted on obvious plastic smiles. Finally a brunette actually looked at me and didn't look away. I pointed to her and the line dissipated much faster than it had formed. I followed the brunette to her room.

"So what would you like, handsome?" She almost kept the irony out of her voice on the last word.

"I'd like a blowjob and intercourse with multiple positions."

"Condom's required for the blowjob."

"I know Nevada regulations," I replied. "I was thinking doggie and cowgirl for the positions." Two positions that didn't place her head close to mine. I'd learned. When I took my glasses off, her face would be enough of a blur that I could pretend she was enjoying the sex.

"Sounds good," she purred. "Two thousand dollars."

"Two thousand! That's five times the usual rate for that type of party!"

She shrugged. "I'm worth it."

"Porn stars are less!"

She studied her nails. I realized that she didn't think I had a choice.

"Take me back to the bar," I ordered. She looked mildly regretful but didn't argue.

I sat and fumed at the bar through two beers. None of the other girls approached me. Finally I loosened up and started looking around. Actually, there weren't that many ladies in the parlor, I realized, and those that were were sitting and talking with other clients. If I was being shunned, it was by women who had the decency to at least flee to the back.

A petite Asian's laugh caught my attention. She was blushing and starting to stand along with her conversation partner. He was grinning as she took his hand and led him towards the back. They squeezed past a busty blonde I hadn't seen before. She had just emerged and was surveying the room. Her eyes met mine and she smiled. Something made me look away. I took another swig of beer and studied the wood grain of the bar.

"May I join you?"

I glanced over at her and nodded. The blonde slid onto the stool next to me.

"Waiting for someone?" she asked.

"Nah. I got price walked and I haven't decided if I want to give up and go home yet."

"Did you try one of the other girls?"

"No. She was the only one that looked interested in partying with me in the line-up, and I wasn't ready to get walked a second time."

"Hmmm," she said.

A glass of something had appeared in front of the blonde while I was staring ahead, talking without really looking at her. It was clear, with bubbles. I guessed 7-Up. She toyed with it, as if in no hurry to go on with the conversation nor no hurry to leave. I pushed my empty beer bottle away and tugged at my sleeves again.

"So what type of party were you looking for?" the blonde casually asked. She sounded genuinely curious instead of merely opening negotiations.

"Pretty much a straight half and half," I replied, and then added, "she wanted two grand."

That stunned the blonde.

"Two grand? Outrageous! You needed to walk for that!"

"No kidding," I said. "But it's not the first time I've been quoted a high price."

"Oh?"

I sighed. "I've been here—Nevada that is—twice before." The words were starting to spill out.

"The first time I was twenty-five and I was so desperate to lose my virginity that I went ahead and paid far more than I should have. The second time, I got smart and did a lot of research over the internet first. I toured the brothels and talked to maybe a dozen ladies. The lowest price I was offered was twice the going rate. I gave up in disgust and went home."

"Ouch! So why did you come back?"

I swallowed hard. I was saying more than I intended but the words weren't going to stop.

"Today's my thirtieth birthday. I was hoping to make it something to remember." She nodded in understanding.

"So what would make it memorable?"

I paused and thought for a while.

"Well," I began, "obviously getting laid would be part of it. I've had sex only four times in my life even though I've got a high hormonal drive. Past the basics, it would be nice if just once the woman would initiate things. Mostly I just want to be able to pretend she's enjoying it."

"Did the other women?" she asked, almost innocuously.

My throat caught again. Why was I telling her all this? She was asking, I realized. An attractive woman was asking me something.

"The first time, in a brothel, no. Her acting was a little too transparent. Two of the other times, the woman were drunk. They seemed to enjoy it at the time, but made a fast getaway in the morning. I found out later that the last woman had slept with me on a dare."

The blonde stiffened, but didn't say anything immediately. "Doesn't sound fun," she eventually commented.

"Nope." I motioned to the bartender for another drink. The blonde took another sip of hers and we sat in silence for a while.

"You know," the blonde began, "I bet you could get a reasonable price if you asked around," I whipped my head around and stared at her. She was obviously serious.

"Would you give me a good price?" I challenged.

"Sure!" She was smiling.

I sat, stunned a little.

"My name's Tamara," she said, extending her hand. I grasped it.

"John."

"Well, John, shall we head to the back?"

I nodded dumbly and then let her lead me toward the hall.

Tamara did give me a good price—right on the internet average. While she went to book with the house, I sat and surveyed her room. It was very tastefully but generically decorated. Whatever personal effects she might have were tucked away. Except for an anatomy textbook. I picked it up and thumbed through it, noting the extensive highlights and margin notes up to where the bookmark demarcated virgin text. The door started to open so I quickly set the book down and tried to look innocent sitting on the bed.

Tamara smiled as she approached. She pushed my knees apart and stood between them, inches away. I started to breathe harder.

"So, John, would you like to undress me?" I gulped and nodded and began fumbling with her top. When I'd gotten it off, she pulled my head to her breasts, encouraging me to kiss and lick. I sighed in delight at her softness and taste. After a few long minutes, Tamara gently pulled my head back. She flicked her eyes lower, reminding me I had more to do. I unhooked her skirt and let it fall. Tamara squirmed a little as I fondled her ass, apparently enjoying it, which surprised me. Then I slowly slid her g-string down. She stepped out of it and backed up.

"Do you like?" she teased, striking a few poses.

"Oh yes!"

"Your turn!" she reached for my shirt. I started to take my glasses off but Tamara stopped me.

"No, you'll want to watch."

I bit my lip to avoid arguing and then my misgivings were shoved aside as Tamara finished removing my shirt. She saw my scars and gasped. I looked away, studying the far wall.

Then I felt her hand on my chest. Tamara was lightly touching me.

She was tracing my scars with her fingers.

I looked down. Tamara was intently studying my chest, her eyes full of wonder.

"Childhood surgeries," I said. "My bones didn't grow right."

"The surgeries helped?"

"Well, there's a lot of metal in me now," I admitted.

"Wow," was all she said.

I sat, feeling more and more uncomfortable as she studied my deformities. After a moment, Tamara noticed my discomfort.

"Lie back," she commanded.

As I did, she quickly stripped my pants off and then crawled onto the bed. We shifted around until we were lying side by side. Her head was near my shoulder and she was still smiling, which felt strange. It was uncomfortable to see her so close. I still had my glasses on, I realized. I started to reach for them but Tamara's hands on my chest distracted me once again.

"May I?" she asked.

I nodded, confused, but Tamara took that as a sign of assent. She began tracing my scars, muttering under her breath. I caught snippets of medical terms. She slowly worked her way south.