Sammy maneuvered Lindsay through the bedroom until the back of her knees touched the mattress before lifting and tossing her on it like a sack of potatoes. From where she suddenly lay plastered, Lindsay looked up, shivers traversing her spine as Sammy removed his tie and loosened his collar. The eighteen-year-old hitched her breath, brought a hand to her chest, and measured her escalating heartbeat. Sammy was so handsome, and so experienced, his neatly trimmed beard emphasizing his dark, demanding eyes, full of hunger, and undeniable purpose. The custom blue suit and elegantly cut Oxford shirt added to a timeless alpha appeal brimming with wisdom, assertiveness, and brash attitude.

Sammy borrowed a moment, appraising Lindsay as if she were a commodity to be auctioned off and sold to the highest bidder fortunate enough to procure her long-term services. “My Kayleigh. My submissive bed girl, my babygirl, my fuckdoll whenever I want.”

Lindsay saw it in her mind – memories from last week – Sammy’s hands seizing control of her hair, the bump and thrust and unbelievable friction of his cock moving inside her mouth. With her head tipped over the perimeter of the bed, she was helpless, pinned in place, his heavy balls swinging near her eyes as he fucked with ruthless aggression. Her hips squirmed with every plunge, and she was reminded time and time again of his strength and her vulnerability. Oh, dear God; he’s going to totally slay me again tonight. The hand on Lindsay’s chest, without preamble, drifted toward her abdomen.

“You’re my little whore, aren’t you?” Sammy’s tone was soft but laced with the promise of consequences. “Such a marvelous toy. One thing both you and I know, Kayleigh, is that you need a good fucking. You need it very, very badly. And tonight, I promise to give you exactly what you need.”

“Yes, Sammy. Oh God, yes. I want you to fuck me.” Lindsay’s gaze didn’t waver from his face, either, as her hand finished its journey, her fingers raising the hem of her prom dress and finding the gusset of her G-string panties, applying pressure where she needed it most.

“So nice,” Sammy said as Lindsay’s fingers busied themselves between her thighs. “You are such a nasty, horny slut, Kayleigh. So ready to be fucked.”

Lindsay’s mouth dropped open and her opposite hand came up on its own to cover it. A nasty, horny slut? Was she really this type of girl? Her brow crinkled. Did her parents raise her to lay beneath a man forty years her senior with her legs spread and pleasure herself in plain sight? Face it – you’re good for one thing, and one thing only, so you might as well get paid for it. Sammy would fuck her tonight, he’d possess her, and enjoy her on his own terms – for an exorbitant fee.

At what point did Lindsay veer from the proper path?

“Open your pussy lips, will you? Nice and wide. Put on a show for me. Yes, yes. Look at that pink, little pussy. You’re dripping wet already.”

Happy Ending Ranch had changed Lindsay. She’d become suitable for sport fucking in a short amount of time but would be even more suitable with additional on-the-job training. Men like Sammy, Ryker, Darius, Tony, and all the others, for the most part, got their rocks off being with her.

God, this girl loved sex. Lindsay loved huge dicks and powerful hands. She loved wearing lingerie and men who’d rip it off and chuck it across the room before bending her over the desk and sticking their cocks in her. Lindsay was accustomed to being ridden hard and allowed these mongers to control her body, to take ownership, so they could fuck just as they pleased, fearful that if she didn’t satisfy them well enough, she’d lose her job.

Out of the corner of her eye, because she couldn’t help but look, Lindsay noticed it in the floor-to-ceiling mirror: her submissive posture and the contrast of her lacey black prom dress and Sammy’s business suit, the difference between a wealthy, dominant older man and a fresh-faced girl just removed from her high school graduation beneath him, on her back, ready to serve his wicked pleasures.

It was as if Sammy had cast some strange spell on her. What was his secret, anyway? This terrible need for degradation kept evolving, kept multiplying. The desire to allow random men – mongers, and women like Becky, too – to use her. What happened? You used to go to church twice a week with your family! Lindsay’s body, her soul, her very nature, was being turned against her.

“Raise your knees and take them into your hands,” Ryker instructed her this past Saturday morning, and like a good, dutiful employee, she complied. “Very nice, sweetheart. Such a pretty cunt you have, a perfect cunt.” Ryker took hold of her hips, saying, “Keep those legs open,” and brought her toward him, to the edge of the bed, so he could immerse himself in her wetness.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “A tight cunt too. I wish I could trade my wife in for you and take you home. I’d love to parade you about, show you off to all my friends and make them jealous. Maybe share you with them too.” Ryker gripped her upper thighs and Lindsay cried out as he pounded away, slapping his pelvis against her prone ass so hard that the brass headboard made a loud racket bouncing against the wall.

He fucked Lindsay for several minutes as her eyes alternated from his face to the spectacle of his cock claiming her pussy again and again. “Oh, yes! Just like that. Fucking pussy is amazing! Fucking pussy is amazing! Only thing better than your pussy is your face!” The shame was exquisite – this total stranger, having sex with her in exchange for money, interested in her body, her physical charms, and absolutely nothing else.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t be proud.

Back in the present moment with Sammy, Lindsay’s face puckered, but soon her fingers slipped under the elastic and found the silken crease of her pussy, which she’d given a fresh shave to Tuesday in compliance with Riley’s “recommendation.” Riley said I’d make more money this way. Her pussy was soaked and ached already, and thus, Lindsay came to the realization that yes, indeed, she was definitely that kind of girl.

A nasty, horny slut.

Sammy’s blazer came off, followed by his dress shirt, revealing a hairy, masculine chest. Lindsay’s beautiful blue eyes were staring up at him, as big as saucers, and Sammy sprung a grin. “You and I are a perfect match, Kay-Kay, a great connection. We’re gonna have lots of fun.”

When Sammy lowered himself over her, Lindsay pushed up and trailed her fingertips down his bare back, enjoying the texture of his weathered flesh.

“Ahh, that’s my sweet girl.” The two unrighteous lovers were moving together already, legs intertwined, foregoing the required negotiating process and getting right to the hot stuff. “Those tits feel so good in my hands.”

Lindsay was ready to throw caution to the wind and lose herself in this perfect moment. She kissed Sammy’s jawline and reveled in his well-groomed beard bristling against her cheek. Her legs coiled around his hips. Driven by need, she was amazed at how quickly her body responded to Sammy, who was easily the sexiest man she’d ever met. The big, bad wolf – the leader of the pack.

“You know what to call me, Kayleigh, honey,” he said in that same stern voice.

Lindsay gasped and hearkened back to their first date and all the ensuing e-mails they’d shared since and whispered the one word he wanted to hear. “Daddy?”

“That’s right.” He moved his hand from her waist to between her thighs and she gave a cry at the sudden rush of stimulation. “How is this naughty little pussy doing?”

“Fine, Daddy.” Lindsay arched her torso, thrusting her pelvis against his hand, needing more. Sammy glared at the bare furrow of her sex, satisfaction in his gaze, and she couldn’t help but try to ride that hand. “Fuck, Daddy … fuck!”

“Have you been keeping your cunt full in my absence? Earning lots of money like a good whore should?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Lindsay blushed a fiery red and hid her face in the sanctity of his beard. His presence alone wiped away any feelings of modesty, of independence, and especially defiance. “I’m ready to be a good girl and do what you tell me like we’ve discussed.” Break me, Daddy. I’m begging you. Break me.

“That pleases me and I’m glad to hear it.” Sammy fondled Lindsay as he spoke, and her hips jerked at the hard, invasive rhythm of his fingers. “You’re going to be a good girl tonight, my submissive bed girl, who belongs to me because I’m going to pay a ridiculous amount of money for you.” He took his hand away, unfortunately, but then brought it to her face with a pair of extended fingers. “Look, babygirl. Look how wet you are.”

Lindsay whimpered, but also remembered that if she didn’t follow protocol, Jim may start pounding on the door at any second or, even worse, burst through and put an end to their fun before it truly began.

“Open up, Kayleigh,” Sammy said, taking precedence just like that. “Open up and taste yourself.”

Lindsay closed her eyes and took his big fingers into her mouth because it would anger him if she didn’t. I don’t want to get spanked already. Or do I? The young prostitute suckled away, licking her juices as if his digits were ice cream cones. Sammy doubled his smile as his index and middle fingers moved in and out, using a similar cadence to how his cock would put her pussy through the wringer in due time.

“What are you looking for tonight, Daddy?” came her mumble. “What can I do to make you happy?” Since this was a brothel, any legitimate intimacy wasn’t supposed to start until they went through the formalities of the bartering process and agreed on a price. It’s good Colt is away in Maryland. He would’ve probably already been in here and threatening to fire me if he knew I gave Sammy a freebie like that. Afterward, Sammy would have to pay in full for any services before they were rendered. No matter how close they’d gotten in recent times, the proper procedure still had to be followed. I’m glad Jim is so chill and is allowing us to bend the rules a little.

Still, Lindsay wasn’t about to push her luck too far.

After the initial shock of finding Sammy in the parlor earlier, she spent thirty minutes reminiscing with him about their evening together from last week. Since Jim was also present, conversation was kept light and general.

Thus, Sammy didn’t dare call her “Lindsay” – her name was “Kayleigh” tonight. Being a turnout, Lindsay would lose her job if Colt caught wind of all the sensitive information she’d given him. Real name, private e-mail, cell phone number, even her mailing address back in Citronelle. Plus, they had plans to meet up eleven days from now in Utah. There was no mention of that either.

Colt wouldn’t tolerate any employee going into business on her own, fearful the local authorities, particularly the Sulaco County sheriff, would find out and revoke his business license because of it.

“I know I promised to come back to the ranch and party with you again in September,” Sammy told Lindsay as Jim tidied up behind the counter, “but I couldn’t wait. Last time was too much fun.” He winked an eye and grinned mischievously. “Rest assured, though, I still want to see you in September too.”

In the bedroom, Sammy’s hands slid up Lindsay’s legs and underneath the hem of her skirt, past her ass, and came to rest on her waist. He held on as she initiated another slow rhythm and ground her hips across his pelvis. The friction made him tighten his grip.

Please, please, please, get three or four hours with me, Daddy! Sammy showing up unannounced like this was a wonderful surprise and Lindsay wanted to enjoy herself without having to keep an eye on the clock. She dry-humped his dick through his slacks, gently but firmly. He now had one hand on the waistband of her G-string and the other clutching a breast through the fabric of her dress.

“Tell you what, darlin’. Here’s what I want.” First, Sammy captured her mouth in a deep, soul-crushing kiss, reminding her that between the two of them, he would always be the one in charge. The fire in Lindsay’s loins burned hotter. Their tongues met in a frenzy. Sammy explored her teeth, the roof of her mouth, the hollow of her cheek. She again thrust her hips upward, wanting more, but he used both hands to keep her in place this time. “I’d like to purchase twenty-four hours with you.”

Her eyes bulged. What the …?

“A full day.” Sammy used his right hand to brush a lock of long hair away from her face. “I’m offering you eighteen thousand dollars if you’ll give me the honor of spending the next twenty-four hours with you, sweet Kayleigh.” The pulse point on her neck jumped, but Sammy was right there to kiss it and soothe the anxiety away. “From right now – six-thirty tonight until six-thirty tomorrow night, or whatever. Whenever we start – twenty-four hours.” Lindsay’s jaw went slack as he added, “I’ll pay for it in cash like I usually do. You can do the math on your smartphone if you want, sweetheart, but that’s seven hundred and fifty dollars an hour, and I never pay more than six hundred here, at least for a one-on-one party.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I trust you.” Lindsay blinked several times to process the generous offer. Twenty-four hours? She was with Sammy for a measly three hours last week and still wasn’t convinced her body had recovered from the hardcore fucking he gave her. Sure, she’d been passing lots of jokes the past couple of days about wearing him out, but how could she last twenty-four hours with a man this experienced? This skilled, this dominant? He’ll be fucking me nonstop!

“I’m offering you a higher hourly premium because at certain points, I’d like to invite other girls to join us and make it a threesome or a foursome. I’ll pay them separate rates. C’mon, say yes. It’ll be fun.” Lindsay enjoyed licking pussy and had yet to sample all the other whores throughout the house, but that was going to change tonight and tomorrow.

She was fucking every single one of them … and Sammy was going to watch.

And join in, too, of course.

Twenty-four hours. …

Lindsay desperately wanted to rekindle their magic from a week ago, but what was too much? Was there a limit? Again, Pamela’s words of wisdom popped into her mind. Never agree to do anything with a client if it’s outside your comfort zone.

Another voice in Lindsay's brain disagreed.

Think of the money you’ll make! Even more than that, she went to bed every night hot, needy, and bothered, and when she fell asleep, often dreamed about Sammy. He’s here now and I’m back where I belong – with him. How could Lindsay allow this opportunity to slip away?

“We could spend two or three hours alone together, then invite Elisabeth in, and I’ll make an offer for her to join us for an hour. A short time later, after Elisabeth leaves, we’ll invite Mariko in, and she can party with us for an hour too.” Sammy backed away slightly. “Doesn’t have to be any specific order. Sahara, Riley, Kenzie, Nicolette, we’ll cycle through them all.” Sammy’s chin tightened. “It’s too bad Pamela is out of town. I know you and her are close and I was looking forward to partying with her again too. Haven’t done so since Christmas.”

Sammy was aware from his ongoing correspondences with Lindsay that Pamela was injured, but still expected her to be here, and his original plan was to offer Lindsay and Pamela $20,000 apiece for a twenty-four-hour threesome. As the part-owner, there was no way Pamela would turn down such a payday, bad back or not, and Lindsay, well, no way she would either. These were his two favorite girls in all of LPIN, bar none, and he considered Colt to be a lucky bastard to be married to a fine woman like Pamela.

But since she wasn’t here, Sammy had some ideas that would make his party with Lindsay all the more memorable. Involving all the other girls, yes, but something even better, even kinkier. With any luck, he’d be able to make it happen once Jim’s shift ended at nine o’clock and Mindy was running the house for the remainder of the evening. Sammy had struck a handful of hush-hush deals with Mindy in the past and didn’t anticipate any resistance.

$18,000 was a lot of money. In all honesty, Sammy believed he was owed a discount by asking for twenty-four hours. The max, he thought, should be $12,000. But since it was Lindsay, he didn’t mind. He wanted her to have the money. To him, Lindsay would deserve it, she’d earn it, especially after involving the other girls and pushing her limits into the stratosphere tonight and tomorrow.

“Babygirl, talk to me. Why are you crying?”

“That’s going to cost you a fortune!” Lindsay pressed a palm across her lips to help stifle her emotions. “Sammy, Daddy, I don’t … I don’t …” Want you to blow all your money on me. Lindsay wanted to get paid like any working girl, of course, but wasn’t greedy and uncaring like the overwhelming majority. I love you, Sammy! She didn’t want to create any sort of financial burden for him (or his family) either.

A lone tear streaked down her cheek, but she was quick to wipe it away. Beyond the money thing, I’m fine being with you for twenty-four hours. I’m a big girl and can handle it – I hope? – if you can. But she didn’t want to eradicate his savings. You’re a good man and I don’t want to cause you any trouble.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sammy understood what the issue was. Lindsay’s body twitched against his as if she were a toddler needing encouragement. “The money is a drop in the bucket to me, sweetheart.” Sammy had already told Lindsay multiple times that he was the CEO of Gradiph Pharmaceuticals and made over $37,000,000 last year alone, with a net worth four times that amount. He hadn’t worried about his finances in decades.

Was there another prostitute on the face of the planet who’d balk at accepting $18,000 like this? Scarlett would be falling over herself if she were here, Sammy thought, and already have him balls-deep in her mouth.

Without a condom.

Yet, Lindsay was worried about bleeding him dry. Indeed, this girl was rare. A genuine, kind, selfless whore. And so very special. Sammy needed to snatch Lindsay up and make her his private property before the industry warped and corrupted her like it had so many others.

His reason for showing up tonight was simple: Sammy couldn’t wait another eleven days to have sex with Lindsay again. No way, no how. He worked a half-day this morning and told his wife he had to travel to Chicago for a business meeting and wouldn’t be home until after midnight tomorrow evening. Sammy had no choice – he flat-out lied to Barbara this time, fearing she may obliterate him if she knew he planned on being at the brothel for twenty-four consecutive hours (thus, his insistence on paying with cash instead of credit). And though he wouldn’t get the threesome with Lindsay and Pamela he wanted, Sammy figured he’d wind up spending over $40,000 here anyway.

Aside from including all the other girls, Lindsay would deserve a generous tip, right?

“I’m going to take care of you and treat you the way you need to be treated, Kayleigh. Please, agree. Let me do this for you.” Sammy tried to hide a sly, wicked grin, but failed. He had visions of some introductory BDSM play and a lot of spankings. She’d begged for it in her e-mails, through texts, and tonight, tomorrow, she was going to get it. Daddy is finally home, Sammy said to himself, and he’s none too happy his little princess has been fucking the entire school, including the teachers and even the janitor!

“I’ll have Jim or Mindy, or whomever, deliver us food from any restaurant in Flagstone you want whenever you’re hungry. Give me the word, darlin’, and it’s yours. I’ll pay for it.” Sammy kissed her harder this time – so hard that for a moment she struggled against the suddenness of it, and that gave him a jolt of arousal. “We’ll stop and take breaks whenever you want. We can get a full seven or eight hours of sleep too.” He kissed her again. “I want to fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up in the morning to your sweet, sexy face.” Perhaps with his cum all over it too? “It would be a dream come true.” And then he’d fuck her again. Maybe with his dick plowing into her from behind. I love waking up whores by giving them a hard fucking.

Sammy brought Lindsay's head to his shoulder and rubbed a palm along her back. “Accept my offer, honey. Don't worry about the money. I can afford it.” He kissed the spot on her neck where Becky gave her the hickey earlier. “Please. I must be with you again.” And Sammy wanted this to be his longest, most epic party ever. Not only did he deserve it, but so did she. Sammy was pulling out all the stops and leaving no stone unturned.

Because the unthinkable had happened.

Sammy was in love. There was no use denying it now, but it was a different sensation than all the other times. Somehow, this girl had turned his universe upside-down.

“Okay.” Lindsay's expression slowly transitioned from uncertainty to delight, and the heartfelt, dazzling smile she offered tugged at Sammy's heartstrings. “Yeah, I'll do it. For eighteen thousand dollars.”

At the mere mention of that astronomical figure, Lindsay gulped her throat again. On second thought, I don't know if I can do this. But she trusted Sammy implicitly and had faith he’d take care of her like he promised. Besides, holy cow! I'll net nine thousand for being with the man I dream about every night!

She inhaled a deep breath and gathered her emotions. Jim is listening with the surveillance system and I have a procedure to follow. She didn’t want Jim to become suspicious of the budding relationship they were fostering. “I'll do the dick check now, Sammy, and we can go to the booking office afterward.”

“Okay.” Confused, Sammy glared at her. Dick check? Of all the things Lindsay could say, that was …

“Thank you for taking your dick out, Sammy. Now, let me check it with this flashlight.”

The only thing was, there was no flashlight, and Sammy's penis was still in his dress slacks. But everything made sense once Lindsay pressed her lips to his and again found his tongue with her own. Jim was listening, and they had to make their transaction sound typical.

“Your dick is bigger than I remember, baby.” Lindsay offered Sammy the sweetest, most tender kiss he'd ever received. It was like they were making love while kissing. Her body was pressed against his as she again wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed her pussy across his pelvis. Every cell within Sammy's body was alive and surging. He closed his eyes and took a moment to commit this feeling to memory, but soon his hands traveled down to her ass and squeezed.

With any luck, after tonight, that ass would belong to him too.

Lindsay used every ounce of willpower to push away. “Good, good. Your dick is clean, baby. That’s awesome. I can't wait to have it inside me!” Sammy tried to kiss her again, but she placed a hand between them as a barrier and shook her head. “Let's go to the office and arrange for payment with Jim, okay? Then you can take your shower and I'll get my room ready so we can party for the next … twenty-four hours.”

<> <> <> <> <>

“Holy shit.” Some 2,500 miles away in the dining area of Groucho’s Goat Shack, a popular watering hole in Baltimore, Maryland, Colt held his smartphone before his eyes and reread the just-delivered text message. “Jim says Mike Steele – Sammy – showed up out of the blue and is booking an eighteen-thousand-dollar overnight party, a full twenty-four hours, with Kayleigh as we speak.”

Across the restaurant table, Pamela's head jerked up. “Twenty-four hours? Wow. Lucky her.”

“Yeah, that's what it says. This is … yeah, wow … this is unbelievable. And such great news.” Colt turned the mobile device toward Pamela and allowed her to see for herself. “I may be wrong, but I don’t believe Sammy has ever had an overnight at our house. Unbelievable.”

Just like Colt remembered, business at this Inner Harbor hot spot was hopping. It always was. The sound of good times and loud, blaring music was a hallmark of Groucho’s Goat Shack. Once upon a time, he and Pamela were frequent patrons here, at least on the rare occasions when they were home in Maryland, but those days were long gone. Things sure have changed as they’ve gotten older. Colt wasn’t comfortable amid a band of noisy, raucous college kids anymore or, more specifically, screaming drunks trying to take over the bar. Pamela had matured beyond this crowd as well, but still liked coming back once or twice a year.

“I’d think it’s safe to assume being with Lindsay last week had a profound effect on Sammy, huh? Wouldn’t you agree?” While she’d prefer to be downing a Zombie Monkey, her favorite beverage here, Pamela had to settle for bottled water and a vegan salad instead. She didn’t want to risk mixing alcohol with all the various medications she was on. “I recall Sammy talking about having a future overnight with Lindsay. He was aiming for September.” Her head twitched. “And afterward, you told me, Sammy couldn’t stop talking about how incredible Lindsay was.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Colt’s chair scuffed the floor as he moved closer to the table. “It was like he was an obsessed virgin or something. Very uncharacteristic of him.” Sammy has always used the term “sport fucking” to discuss brothels and the women who work at them. Juvenile and crass, no doubt, and very disrespectful, but Colt actually preferred that mindset over a misguided virgin like, say, Charlie Winters, who’d fallen head over heels in love with Pamela and had plans to visit her again later in the year.

Damn you, Charlie, you fucking asshole.

Stay away from my wife!

Of course, Pamela shouldn’t have been out and about at all tonight. She needed to be home in bed, resting, per the orders of Dr. Middleton and Dr. Pietz. But Pamela was stubborn, willful and headstrong, and despite a debilitating spinal injury that made it difficult to walk, let alone move, her dogged insistence to defy medical advice was resolute. “No, I won’t stay home tonight, Colt, and you can’t make me. With or without you, I’m going to Groucho’s.”

An argument ensued with Colt as the voice of reason, but as usual, Pamela won in the end. Colt couldn’t allow her to go to a bar, alone, in the shape she was in.

Perhaps Pamela was more obstinate than stubborn, Colt thought, especially in this case as she now flat-out refused to verbally acknowledge anything was wrong with her back to begin with. Was this Pamela’s way of dealing with the reality that her career as a courtesan – something she enjoyed and had been doing for twelve years – could be over? Or was it denial? Colt understood that she feared change, something new, a different career and lifestyle, but sensed she’d be forced into it and would have to accept it.

She may have no other choice.

Pamela was driven with an intense work ethic, always wanting to be the best, and had an ironclad will. Yet with that came her biggest flaw, at least in Colt’s eyes: she was fiercely independent and the idea of appearing weak to others, even to him, mortified her.

She is the most stubborn person I’ve ever known.

On the previous topic, if Colt didn’t know any better, he would assume Sammy was in love with Lindsay too. I’ve never seen him so amped up over a working girl like he was that night a week ago. That had to be an anomaly, right? A cosmic blip in the universe that would never happen again? Sammy was known as “The Whore Whisperer” throughout the industry, having partied with over a thousand girls, and (to Colt’s knowledge, at least) never allowed emotion to enter the mix. That mentality kept him grounded.

“Sport fucking” … I really wish Sammy would retire that term. Why did he constantly throw it around? Working girls are human beings, too, not big game you hunt and bag. Besides, society shit on them enough as it was. Meh, Sammy doesn’t respect anyone in our business.

Nor does he care about anyone either.

“What are you doing?”

Colt's sights were locked on his phone. “Typing a message out to Jim. Want a little more detail about what's going on with Kayleigh and Sammy. Hopefully, he doesn't have any tricks up his sleeve.” Kayleigh is young and naïve, and Sammy can manipulate with the best of ‘em.

Pamela crossed her arms to show a closed body posture. “Jesus Christ, Colt. Can't you ever call her Lindsay?” Pamela shifted in her seat and expelled a sudden, pained hiss. “We're light years away from Flagstone, you know, yet you still insist on calling her Kayleigh.” Rocking back and forth to steady her discomfort, she wagged her head. “You do realize Lindsay hates that name, right? She despises it with a passion.”

“Kayleigh – the name – is for her own safety and protection.” The cords in Colt’s neck were rigid and stood at attention. I wish you wouldn't go around the house and refer to all the girls by their real names. Pamela didn’t do it all the time, but it happened more often than Colt preferred, and it was never a good idea. Lindsay this, Amy that, Cierra this, and so on.

Granted, she only did it when no customers were around. Still, though. …

“You don't have any concerns with my safety and protection, huh?” Pamela’s eyes were icy cold and shooting daggers as she grimaced and arched her back. “You've been calling me Pamela for the past nine or ten years in the house and Pamela is my real name.” When she started at the ranch in 2006, Pamela’s working name was Dakota. Colt’s father, William, helped her pick it out. “What makes me so damn special? Doesn't make any sense.”

Colt’s hands clenched into fists and he ground his teeth, blocking himself from saying something he may regret. What the fuck? I call you Pamela at work because you insist I do. She hated the name “Dakota” back in the day, too, and demanded he not use it anymore once William passed away. Wanting to keep the peace, Colt had agreed to call her “Pamela” ever since.

Against my better judgment.

But in her version of the story, Pamela always told anyone who asked – like Lindsay did last week – that Colt was the one who insisted on using her real name. No way, uh-uh, wrong. If he had his way, Colt would still be calling her “Dakota” whenever they were at work.

He'd watched several employees wreck each other’s lives with real names and personal information in the past. Just destroy them. Following a nasty disagreement, all it took was one phone call as an act of revenge on the other, and suddenly mom and dad knew what their little princess did for a living. Or maybe a boyfriend. Heck, one girl told an adolescent daughter, in detail, the disgraceful things her mother did to pay the bills. Sophia left the house in a wild, crying fit, and I never seen or heard from her again.

William fired Ginger on the spot because of it too. She destroyed poor Sophia.

Yet Pamela believed it was okay for everyone to walk around and use real names and share intimate details. Make it public amongst all the employees. Happy Ending Ranch wasn’t a coffee shop or a corner, mom-and-pop bakery. We’re a fucking brothel. Discretion and anonymity were supposed to be of the utmost importance.

Even amongst its workers.

Colt squinted at Pamela. What would you do if Aaliyah, for example, got into contact with your folks and told them what it is you really do in Nevada?

Man, I bet Dad rolls over in his grave every time you or one of the others calls each other by your real name. Colt feared William would beat the daylights out of him if he were still alive for allowing it to happen, especially since Pamela was his wife. Dad always stressed how important keeping a low profile was.

Figuring this wasn’t something to lose his cool over – I’ll never get Pamela to agree with me on this topic, anyway, not in a million years – Colt purified his emotions with an audible intake of breath. She isn’t feeling well and there’s no need to start another argument.

Settle down, buddy, and let it go. Let it go. …

His attention shifted back to his smartphone and the message he was thumbing out to Jim. Though in Maryland, Colt had kept his finger on the pulse of the brothel. It’s our livelihood, the way we earn our money. He’d been sharing texts with Jim since first arriving on the East Coast and would no doubt burn up Mindy’s phone when Jim’s shift ended in a few hours and she was in charge. Colt wanted to know every detail of what was going on.

“Eighteen thousand dollars, huh? Sammy has never been afraid to part with his money.” Over their little squabble as well, Pamela spoke in a gentle tone before closing her eyes for several seconds. “God, I wish I was with them.”

“What?” Colt stopped composing the message and flinched as if a gunshot had gone off.

With a smile, Pamela’s eyes grew insightful. “I know Sammy wanted a threesome with me and Lindsay and would’ve doubled his eighteen thousand dollar offer, at least.”

“Wow.” Colt glared at her without blinking. “Marriage doesn’t mean much these days, does it?”

“Huh? What?” The infinitesimal twitch in Pamela’s lips told him that his biting remark had struck a nerve. “Colt, what the hell?” Her long, manicured nails cut into the palms of her hands. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

(This chapter will continue in the next submission ...)