Light sparkled across the pristine diamonds of his late grandmother’s ring like glimmers of dreams and imagery from a kaleidoscope. Donald Stanlick held the priceless family heirloom between his fingertips and twirled it about, his head tilted. Ever since picking up this classic, lustrous ring from the safe deposit box five hours ago, he couldn’t stop admiring it. Even now, instead of glancing at the menu here at Sullivan’s Seafood Steak and Oyster House, an upscale restaurant located on the Las Vegas Strip, he’d pulled the ring out instead.
Again.
More than a year into their relationship, Donald felt ready to commit to Lindsay. I’m gonna keep the ring with me in Flagstone from now on and wait for the perfect moment. But when would that be? Donald could envision dropping to one knee tomorrow, certain she’d say yes. Yet, he wanted to make the proposal truly monumental, and that would require planning. And time.
Lots of time.
Her birthday in December? Or maybe Christmas Day?
There were doubters and naysayers, of course, none more so than his parents. Think about it, son. How can you be serious when you say you want to marry a prostitute? His mother, in particular, had no clue what she was talking about. That Anastacio girl is pure trouble. She’ll break your heart and ultimately steal everything you own. She’ll destroy your life!
Donald’s eyelids narrowed into crinkled slits. Fuck Mom and Dad. Fuck ‘em both. He set the ring down and opened his flip phone. They don’t know jack shit. What right did they have to talk about Lindsay in such a manner? They’ve never even spoken to her, let alone met her!
No, their opinions were nothing but regurgitated trash, spoon-fed by the ongoing hack job courtesy of The Citronelle Courier that began in December 2018. Just thinking of it made Donald’s blood boil – how the local media dragged Lindsay’s name through the mud after Evie Bancroft’s suicide, pinning the blame on her like she was some kind of puppet master.
Prom Queen to Prostitution Ring: Anastacio’s Stunning Fall from Grace – h/t The Citronelle Courier, January 2, 2019.
Local Teen’s Vegas Vacation Turns into Permanent ‘Working’ Holiday – h/t The Citronelle Courier, March 27, 2019.
Lindsay wasn’t even at the brothel in March that year!
‘She Was Such a Nice Girl’: Neighbors Shocked by Anastacio’s Descent into Nevada’s Underbelly – h/t The Citronelle Courier, August 4, 2019.
Anastacio’s ‘Rags to Riches’ Story: The Dress Comes Off, The Money Rolls in – h/t The Citronelle Courier, December 29, 2019.
Those vultures! Those Goddamn vultures! Donald’s jaw clenched as he now scrolled through the archived headlines on his phone, teeth grinding as he fought the urge to slam his fist on the table. The other diners, the ambient chatter, even the clinking of cutlery itself faded, replaced by the pounding in his ears. Every few weeks, every few months, another fucking lie. Another smear.
Citronelle Native Turns to OnlyFans as Brothels Go Dark – h/t The Citronelle Courier, March 30, 2020.
Masks On, Clothes On: Anastacio’s Struggle During Pandemic – h/t The Citronelle Courier, June 19, 2020.
Anastacio Spotted with Utah Millionaire Playboy Ben Phalen: Escort or New Flame? – h/t The Citronelle Courier, September 24, 2020.
Masks, Gloves, and Lingerie: Anastacio’s New Workwear in Reopened Brothel – h/t The Citronelle Courier, May 3, 2021.
Anastacio Plans to Purchase Nevada Whorehouse, Further Sullying Citronelle’s Good Name – h/t The Citronelle Courier, July 9, 2021.
Youngest Sister Cries: ‘Lindsay Has Ruined My Chances of a Good Catholic Marriage!’ – h/t The Citronelle Courier, July 11, 2021.
Donald imagined the sneering faces of the small-town editors, salivating over their next Lindsay hit piece. Fabricating bullshit, ruining lives and reputations, and for what? A few more clicks? His chest heaved with each breath, the urge to scream building in his throat. I swear to fucking God, if I ever meet these “journalists”, I’ll …
Donald shoved the thought aside. No, I’m not that type of person. I’d never hurt anyone.
Donald centered his emotions and took a deep, measured breath. His eyes closed, shutting out the world as he willed his anger to subside. Lindsay says the media isn’t worth her time or effort anymore. She’s so past that stage and insists I should ignore all the hatred too. Forearms trembling, he closed his phone, retrieved the ring, and gazed at it. Grandma would tell me to move on too.
This wasn’t just any ring. Four years ago, Betty Stanlick had pressed it into his palm while on her deathbed, her eyes clouded with both tears and sickness. “Promise me,” she said, her once-vibrant voice now barely a whisper, “that one day you’ll give this to someone special. Someone who truly deserves it. Someone who makes you happy.” As her last unmarried grandchild out of sixteen, Donald knew he had an obligation.
Grandma always said I was her favorite and wanted nothing but the absolute best for me.
His eyes drifted shut again, but this time, instead of headlines, he saw Lindsay. Her dazzling smile, that infectious laugh. Donald could almost feel the gentle pressure of her hand in his, the way she’d often squeeze it three times in succession – her silent “I love you.”
Me, of all people? The thought bubbled up, bringing with it powerful emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Donald saw the trust in Lindsay’s eyes, deep pools of blue that could reach into his very soul. The vulnerability she’d show only to him, peeling back her defenses in quiet moments when it was just the two of them. He recalled the way she’d curl against him at night, too, seeking comfort in his arms, and sharing details of her many sexcapades.
I still can’t believe she’s with me.
Donald planned to spend his only day off from work this week in Vegas, which was why he was here. Snatching Grandma’s ring from the bank had been his primary goal, but he had other ideas in mind too. Want to check out the Pinball Hall of Fame and the Emporium Arcade, and maybe try a casino or two. Originally, he hoped to make it back to Flagstone before midnight, but what was the point of that now? Turning his hand over, he cringed, his shoulder flinching. Ehh, it is what it is.
hey hun, Baltimore John bought 24 hours, so I won’t be able to see you tonight as we had planned. ill be free around noon tomorrow i guess. we’ll order uber eats for lunch and play video games all afternoon. sorry about this but always remember i love you lots!!!
The text, delivered shortly after ten-thirty this morning, provided another reminder of what a lifetime spent with Lindsay would be like. I don’t care.
I don’t. Fucking. Care.
I love that girl more than anything and just want to be with her. Like Colt with Pamela before him, and even Jim with Kenzie, Donald knew Lindsay would always come back to him when party time was over.
It’s just business.
<> <> <> <> <>
Once John returned to the bedroom after yet another trip to the restroom – damned alcohol – he found Lindsay kneeling at the door, naked, wearing a bridal veil.
“I figured you could use another cocksucking before we cuddle up and get back in bed, baby.”
“Christ, Lindsay. You’re gonna be the death of me.” John turned away, dizzy, and claimed a chair. Lindsay crawled over in front of him and resumed her submissive kneeling stance. He looked at her, ten hours into their twenty-four-hour bonanza, and wondered where she got all her energy from.
In no way, shape, or form was he complaining, but could John get hard again? But if he refused to allow Lindsay to suck his cock for the umpteenth time, it may upset her. She would never let him know that since he was a client, of course, but how could he agree to this? What did they call it on the website forums? AFO? All Fucked Out? But I still got fourteen more hours to go. …
John was exhausted after a full day of bliss, both physical and mental, his eyes struggling to stay open.
They’d fucked so many times that he lost count. They’d even taken two showers together. She’d given him multiple Nuru massages. John purchased dinner for every employee in the house and had it delivered from Tesoro’s Restaurant and Lounge at five o’clock. He shared pizza in bed with Lindsay as they cuddled like newlyweds and streamed Black Widow, the highest grossing movie of the summer.
And afterward, Lindsay had John’s dick for dessert.
“Oh, Johnny Boy?”
He looked up. Lindsay had changed her position slightly, but what a difference. Her knees were wide apart instead of together, her hands were linked behind her, and her back was arched, breasts thrust forward. She was, by an immense margin, the sexiest vision he’d ever beheld.
“Many clients prefer I kneel this way instead when I suck their dicks. Which do you like better?”
John’s answer was a caveman’s grunt, and Lindsay smiled, relishing the power she held. She leaned forward, opened his bathrobe, and proceeded to perform the most intense, prolonged, and utterly pleasurable fellatio he’d ever received.
Stacy sure as hell was never this good to me.
This was, after all, Lindsay in her element. Being on her knees was consistently the most enjoyable aspect of any GFE party. Nothing made her feel sexier than glancing up at the expanse of an older gentleman, beyond the solidity of his arousal, imploring with her open mouth to connect using her unique skillset. To sample him. To envelop him in her warmth and stroke, suck, and offer every pleasure imaginable with the slim hope that she could reciprocate a bit of what he had already granted her. Lindsay understood, though, that this itself was unattainable, too, at least in her perspective. No sex worker could ever hope to give back sufficiently to match a client who paid hard-earned money for their services.
A soft rhythm, tap-tap-tap, emerged over John’s ragged breathing as Lindsay’s lips were still stretched around his cock. Lindsay’s eyes, previously closed in concentration, flicked toward the door.
Again, tap-tap-tap.
A knowing smile formed, even as she continued her oral handiwork. She glanced up at John, expecting a reaction, but found him slumped in the chair, head tilted back, eyes unfocused. His chest heaved with each labored breath, lost in a sensory-induced stupor.
Lindsay eased his dick from her mouth, allowing her hand to take over with deep, languid strokes. The knock sounded once more, louder this time. Lindsay’s smile magnified as she carefully stood, her knees popping after so much time spent on the floor today. Only when she padded toward the door did John rouse from his euphoric state.
“Hey, hey. About time you showed up.”
John’s vision came into focus, and holy hell. …
An upsurge of electricity scorched through his veins as he drank in the sight of Jenn, a statuesque vision in crimson. At five-foot-ten, she towered over every woman in the house, her thirty-nine years lending an air of regal wisdom and maturity. Spools of caramel-brown hair decorated her angular face, swirling over bare shoulders. Blood-red silk clung to every curve, with a daring neckline plunging between her breasts, almost all the way to her belly button. Delicate gold chains crisscrossed exposed skin, drawing John’s gaze to the swell of her cleavage. The dress’s hem kissed her upper thigh, revealing long, toned legs that seemed to go on forever.
“Hey now, I’m early,” Jenn said, clasping Lindsay’s outstretched hand. “I said I’d be here by nine-thirty. It’s not even nine-fifteen yet.”
“I’m so glad you agreed to join us.” A sweet smile appeared on Lindsay’s face as she leaned in, paused, and bumped noses with Jenn. “You look sooooo gorgeous tonight. We’re very lucky that …”
“You’re the one who’s gorgeous,” Jenn whispered, before redirecting her attention and offering John a lovely, glittering smile. “Oh, hey there, partner. We meet again.” She stifled a laugh at his listless, exhausted body frame. “Jesus, John. I tried to warn you about Hurricane Lindsay, didn’t I? You look like death warmed over. The things this chick can do to a man. …”
Unbeknownst to John, Jenn’s role at Happy Ending Ranch extended far beyond her managerial duties. Her sheriff’s card was up to date, her medical tests regular – relics of a past life that now served a new purpose. Two decades ago, these very walls had witnessed Jenn in her prime, a courtesan par excellence who could bring mongers to their knees with a mere glance.
Life had moved on. Marriage, two children, multiple career shifts, years of distance from the game. But when COVID restrictions lifted and Happy Ending Ranch found itself swamped with eager clients and short on staff, Colt approached Jenn with an unusual proposition. Would she consider a return to her roots, if only on occasion?
The offer had given Jenn pause. The thrill was tempting, but she was no longer the carefree young woman of yesteryear. Her agreement came with caveats: no fees, no regular schedule, no public advertising. Instead, she’d be the ace up the ranch’s sleeve, stepping in during peak times or for select clients who piqued her interest. It was an arrangement that allowed Jenn to dip her toes back into familiar waters without diving in headfirst.
Today’s request came during a lull in the afternoon’s business. An invitation. Lindsay’s bedroom. John’s generous offer of a thousand dollars for sixty minutes wasn’t unusual in itself – Jenn had taken on a handful of parties since returning post-COVID. What set her pulse racing was the context: a threesome with Lindsay, not only the ranch’s unquestioned centerpiece, but her boss as well.
With the practiced poise of a seasoned professional, Jenn set her terms. Time was needed – to ensure the house was covered, yes, but also to transform herself from madam back into the seductress from 2001.
Once Mindy arrived for the night shift, Jenn raced home. Fingers skimmed through hangers, seeking the perfect blend of elegance and allure. Makeup was applied with sensuous precision, each stroke a callback to skills long dormant. Now, as she stood in Lindsay’s bedroom, Jenn felt the transformation complete. Manager, wife, mother – those roles faded into the background, if just temporarily, as she was more than ready to showcase the qualities that had once made her the ranch’s crown jewel.
John’s mouth went dry as his gaze darted between Jenn’s crimson-clad form and Lindsay’s nude silhouette. His hands gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles blanched. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.
“You … and Li-Lindsay …” he began, his voice a hoarse whisper. He cleared his throat, trying again. “Have you two ever … I mean … together?”
The words seemed to stick in his throat. A bead of sweat formed on John’s brow, and he absently wiped it away, never taking his eyes off the optical feast before him.
“Partied, I mean,” he finally managed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Have you two partied together before? With a customer, I mean?”
“Partied? With a customer? No.” Lindsay turned and faced Jenn, and a connection suddenly locked into place. Those eyes, that smile, the way the red dress accentuated every contour – it was almost too much. Lindsay eased a loose strand of brown hair behind Jenn’s ear, casting a sidelong glance at John. “Fucked? Each other? Yes.”
That word came out huskier than intended. Lindsay leaned in, her lips finding Jenn’s with a sense of urgency. The kiss sizzled, a cocktail of soft and hard, sweet and dirty. It was Jenn who first angled for better access, slipping her tongue into Lindsay’s mouth. Their chemistry was already off the charts, blowing past every wild fantasy John could’ve dreamed up.
This wasn’t a party at a brothel anymore; it was erotica at its finest.
“God, I love kissing you,” Lindsay said with a murmur, refusing to move from this very spot and her proximity to Jenn. “I always have.”
Jenn nodded, a smile materializing. “The feeling is mutual. We should do it more often.” A pause and she dropped her head back, her eyes reverting to John. “I can’t believe I’m here with the two of you. And I want you to know, John, that this matters a lot to me. I appreciate you asking for me, you know? You’re a good, good man, a sweet man, and Lindsay and I are gonna take care of you.”
Once Jenn approached him, that brought on all kinds of thoughts. It took him a moment to adjust to having her so close, but when he did, he was hit with the one-two punch of Jenn’s timeless beauty and her slightly parted lips, plump and perfect.
“Hmm, nice,” he said. “I like what you got there.”
Jenn cradled John’s face and found his mouth for a much-appreciated kiss. Tentative at first, a soft press, before Jenn’s lips began to move possessively, wantonly. Good God. That’s when the wheels came off the car and John’s senses went haywire. His bones dissolved. His blood boiled over. Jenn had joined Lindsay, two anchors in a spinning world that was too good to be real for John.
Yet it was.
Tonight was his reality.
“Oh, we need to get you out of these clothes.” Lindsay moved behind Jenn, tugging at the hemline of her minidress. “You are way overdressed. Yeah, baby, we need to get you out of these clothes.”
Dammit. John’s hands were too well behaved for their own good. He wanted to touch Jenn, push the boundaries of decency, and act on the impulses she’d stirred within him when they first met last evening. And again this morning. Patience, he told himself. Patience.
But as they continued to kiss, an unfamiliar zing moved through him, from his fingertips to the roots of his hair all the way to his tiptoes. Every erogenous zone he had, even ones he hadn’t been aware of, sprang to life.
That’s because Lindsay had dropped to one knee and began jacking him off again. Up and down, side to side, gentle, hard, rough, soft, all her movements seemed to be made at random.
Two women were ravaging him.
At once.
“Wow, I can’t believe this is happening. This is awesome.”
Using her opposite hand, Lindsay also peeled the hem of Jenn’s minidress upward and, with a seductive glimmer in her eyes, brought John’s own hand to that backside and pressed down. “Go ahead and touch her, baby. Don’t be shy. Yeah, there you go. Doesn’t she have a nice, firm ass? Feel how supple. Oh, if I had my way, I’d have this ass for dinner every night.”
But seconds later, Lindsay turned the tables, prying Jenn’s mouth from John’s so she could have her fun too. A sudden tangle of greedy gropes and messy kisses, John pulled Lindsay into his lap and cradled her own ass with both hands, squeezing without any restraint.
“Christ, baby,” he said between kisses. “I fucking love you.”
“And I love big, hard dicks.”
Jenn’s heels clattered across the floor as she shimmied out of her dress, the silk pooling at her feet. Her bra and G-string soon followed. With a wicked grin, she swept her arm across Lindsay’s kitchenette counter. Paper cups, plates, and a stray can of cat food went flying, scattering across the room like shrapnel. Lindsay’s laughter, rich and throaty, filled the air. It cut off suddenly, though, once Jenn grabbed her, yanking her off John’s lap with a strength that belied her waifish frame.
Lindsay was hoisted atop the counter, her legs spread wide. “Playing bossy tonight, eh?” She bit her lip and grinned. “I’m gonna have to remember that.”
Jenn dropped to her knees, diving in like a woman starved. The first swipe of her tongue had Lindsay’s giggles morphing into a moan that would make a porn star blush. Lindsay’s head snapped back, her blonde hair a wild halo, as she locked her legs around Jenn’s head. She ground against Jenn’s mouth, shameless and uninhibited. The sounds that escaped her lips were downright unholy – all gasps and whimpers and breathy pleas.
John watched, transfixed. Damn, he’d thought he knew what Lindsay sounded like in the throes of passion, but this? This was a whole new level of hotness.
John felt it like a physical pull, drawing him in. His legs moved on their own volition, closing the distance. He positioned himself behind Jenn, heat radiating off her skin. His hands found her head, fingers threading through her hair, as she worked Lindsay over with a skill that bordered on artistry. “Fuck, you two look so good together.”
Jenn’s tongue danced and teased, her fingers joining the party, curling and stroking in a rhythm that had Lindsay arching and wailing out her approval.
When Lindsay’s scream tore through the room, raw and primal, John surged forward. His mouth crashed into hers, swallowing her cries. His tongue plundered, tasting the sweetness of Lindsay’s mouth, feeling the vibrations of her pleasure against his lips.
He held on, riding out the storm as an orgasm hit. It swept through Lindsay like a force of nature, leaving her spent and radiant, spread in disarray across the kitchen countertop, a vision that stirred John’s appetite anew.
As the tremors subsided, John became acutely aware of his own desperate need. His cock throbbed, surprisingly hard again, begging for attention. As if reading his mind, Jenn rose from her knees, her lips glistening with Lindsay’s essence. She turned to face him, a predatory glint in her eyes. John’s breath snared as Jenn produced a condom from God-knows-where, tearing the wrapper with her teeth. The sight alone almost did him in.
Without warning, Jenn dropped to her knees again, this time before him. Her warm breath ghosted over his length. “You have such a nice dick, John, and I’m gonna show you how to use it.” When her lips finally enveloped him, John clenched his own teeth, fighting for control. Jenn moved with agonizing slowness, her hand working in perfect sync with her mouth, each stroke threatening to unravel him. “I like it nice and sloppy.”
John’s eyes slammed shut, his fingers curling into fists as he fought for control.
“Take him to the back of your throat,” Lindsay said. “You look so pretty with a dick in your mouth.”
Goddamn. If this was how the threesome started, how the hell would he make it to the end in one piece?
Jenn found her groove, muscle memory kicking in like she’d never left the game. Her eyes locked onto John’s, a wicked glint sparkling as she took him deeper. She hummed around his dick, the vibrations shooting to his core. John’s breath caught again, his world narrowing to the wet heat of her mouth and the deft strokes of her hand. Jenn worked him like a virtuoso, too, each movement precise and devastating. The pressure built, a coil that threatened to snap at any moment. John’s jaw bunched, his thighs trembling to hold back the incoming tidal wave. Fuck, he was walking a razor’s edge, and Jenn knew it, reveling in every gasp she wrung from him.
Lindsay went to her knees as well, reaching between Jenn’s legs, her fingers gliding along the folds of her pussy. “Wow, you’re soaked already. How is that possible?”
Jenn’s cadence on John faltered for a split-second but she was quick to recover, doubling down on her efforts. A screechy whine reverberated around his dick, adding yet another layer of sensation that had him seeing stars.
Emerald eyes flicked up to John as she serviced him and Lindsay began repaying the earlier favor. Jenn sucked harder, worked him faster. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and red. She cupped his balls and squeezed.
Lindsay wound her left arm around Jenn from behind, tucking it against her neck. Jenn rocked against Lindsay’s opposite hand, picking up speed, as Lindsay took her higher and higher with each two-fingered thrust.
“Look at what you’ve been missing, John.” Lindsay sneered, looking up at him. “You should’ve come to visit me three years ago. Oh, look at those balls. So big, so full. Poor baby. I bet they’re aching, aren’t they?”
When Jenn felt John swell in her own hand, his calves straining, she deliberately slowed her ministrations. This wasn’t just about getting John off anymore; it was about proving something to herself. After so many years away, and with a handful of recent, yet uneventful parties, doubt had crept in. Could she still measure up? Especially next to Lindsay, the ranch’s golden girl?
Jenn felt a familiar fire ignite. This was more than muscle memory, too; it was power, control, affirmation. She wanted – no, needed – to show that she still had it. That the years hadn’t dulled her edge, but honed it.
Jenn had never been one to get off on giving head to clients, but this … this was different. John’s reactions, the way he trembled beneath her caresses, sent a thrill through her unlike anything she’d felt in years. Jenn wanted to imprint herself on this man, to ruin him for anyone else.
As she now sucked him off with reckless abandon, Jenn imagined John lying awake at night, thousands of miles away, the phantom sensation of her virtues haunting him. She wanted her name to be on his lips – not Lindsay’s – every time he thought of Nevada, of Las Vegas, of Flagstone, of pleasure itself. This wasn’t just sex for her anymore, either; it was reclamation. Of her skills, her confidence, her place in this world she’d left behind.
“Christ, Jenn, you’re killing me. Oh, you’re so fucking hot. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck … so good.”
The primal edge in his voice stirred something feral in Jenn. An eruption of want, of pure, unadulterated desire, overtook her. She knew, rationally, that John was approaching his limit. His breaking point. But instinct overrode reason, drowning out all threats of consequence.
In one fluid motion, Jenn released him and rose to her feet. Her hand found the center of John’s chest, fingers splayed wide. With a wicked grin, she pushed.
“What … what are you doing? Wait a minute!”
John stumbled backward, arms pinwheeling, until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He went down hard, legs flying up comically as he bounced on the mattress.
Jenn stood over him, a goddess of desire incarnate, her eyes gleaming. “Oh honey, we’re just getting started.”
Yet Lindsay, like a thief in the night, swooped in, hunching over John’s pelvis and sliding her own ravenous mouth down the length of his poor, tormented shaft, enclosing it in a moist, liquid sheath. “Mine, mine, mine.” She used slow, steady up and down movements, gasps and moans mingling with his own.
Brows furrowed, Jenn tilted her head and glared at Lindsay. A laugh broke free as her hand shot out, fingers tangling in Lindsay’s silky locks. She tugged, not roughly, but firm enough to pull Lindsay off John with a wet pop.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jenn said, failing to hide her grin. “That’s my dick now. You’ve had your playtime. Momma’s turn to feast.” After switching to a fresh condom, she crawled over John’s lap and straddled him, pressing her hands to his shoulders and flashing a playful smile. “So, big guy.” Jenn undulated her hips and leaned all the way forward, pressing her breasts into John’s chest, her lips a mere whisper from his. “Do you want me to fuck me?” She nipped his chin. “Or should I fuck you?”
John’s eyes, wide with shock, and his throat, dry and constricted, produced nothing but a strained whimper.
With a look of determination, Jenn reached between their pressed bodies, positioning his cock, and lowered herself onto it. She emitted an audible grunt at initial penetration and her body hitched. “Hmmmmm, you like my pussy on your dick? It feel good, baby? Oh, right down the middle. Yeah, a hole in one.” For a beat, they were both frozen, savoring their exquisite connection.
Then, like a switch had been flipped, Jenn exploded into action. She slammed her palms against John’s sternum, using it for leverage, and bounced and rocked, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls. “Hmm, fuck,” she roared. “Oh my God, baby. Yes, yes. Oh, I can’t … oh. You feel that, baby? Feel how wet I am for you?”
John’s hands moved on autopilot, desperately groping her breasts and ass, his fingers digging so deep her skin burned. Jenn’s nails raked across his shoulders, drawing trickles of blood. Her head snapped back, exposing her throat, a banshee-like screech tearing from her lungs. Jenn set a brutal pace, almost like she was gunning for a rodeo championship.
“Come on, I want that dick. I want that dick. Give it to me. Oh my God … holy fuck.” The bed protested beneath them, the headboard a battering ram against the wall. Jenn didn’t care if the whole damn house heard, either, knowing she could teach girls like Amelia and Amethyst a thing or two about proper customer service.
“Oh God, don’t come. Not yet. Don’t come. Don’t you dare fucking come.” Jenn felt untethered, wild, nineteen again. “Oh, look at me. Look at me. Eyes on me. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck my cunt. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.”
Joining them on the bed, Lindsay slid her fingers through Jenn’s hair, holding her by the back of the head. “That’s it. Show him good we can make him feel. Show him how we fuck at Happy Ending Ranch.”
Jenn’s bouncing hit a momentary snag as she reveled in short kisses with Lindsay which quickly melted into much deeper ones. Jenn panted, her moans muffled, but resumed the frantic pace, her Kegel muscles clamping down on its prize. John’s balls tightened, and his body flashed hot as the dual sensations of unforgiving heat and the visual of the two women kissing above drove him to the brink.
“Look at you,” Lindsay said. “Look at you. You’re really giving it to him, huh? Look at those pretty titties bounce. Fuck him harder, baby. I know you can do it. That’s it.” She edged inward, her breath hot against Jenn’s ear. “Such a dirty girl. Auditioning for a full-time job, are you? Want your neon silhouette on the outdoor marquee instead of Pamela’s?” Lindsay flicked her tongue over Jenn’s earlobe. “What would your husband think if he saw you now? I always knew you were a slut like me.”
John’s world condensed, his eyesight obstructed, as Lindsay swung a knee over his face, straddled it, and lowered her pussy to his lips. Somehow, some way, he began to blindly lick, his tongue exploring familiar territory made new by the position.
“Please, please, please.” John heard Jenn’s desperate cries as she continued to bounce, skewering herself on his erection. “Yes please. Yes please. Oh my God.”
“There you go.” Lindsay’s voice, uncharacteristically hard, crass, demanding. “Fuck that dick. Fuck it, ride it like the divine bitch you are.”
“Oh God, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna … ohhhhh.”
Heat gathered low in John’s gut, mounting, thickening, taunting. Jenn needed this. Hell, Lindsay needed it too. Jenn was every bit as naughty as Lindsay was, and apparently, John happened to be the one who brought it out of her. She screamed above him, wild and incoherent, experiencing an orgasm. One final bounce finally pulled him under, and he grunted through the most intense climax of his life as well.
In the aftermath, John lay there, sandwiched between Lindsay and Jenn, his chest heaving, his universe and every reality he’d even known shattered. The room reeked of sex and moral decay, but underneath it all, he caught a whiff of something else. Hope, maybe? His mind reeled, flashing through the past day – hell, the past decade. All those lonely nights, empty beds, and silent mornings. Now here John was, wedged between two supermodels who’d just rocked his fucking world.
Jenn stirred, starting to pull away. “Well, I guess my time’s almost –”
“Wait.” John’s voice cracked, firming his grip on her. He blinked in rapid-fire succession, surprised to sense moisture in his eyes. “I … I don’t want this to end. Not yet.”
Lindsay propped herself up on an elbow, curiosity etched across her face.
John swallowed hard. “Jenn, what if … what if I offered you ten grand to stay the night?”
Her mouth gaped wide. “Ten thousand? To sleep?”
John nodded, suddenly feeling like that awkward teenager asking the prom queen for a dance. “Yeah. I mean, I’m spent. Couldn’t get it up again if my life depended on it. But I just … I want to know what it’s like. To fall asleep with both of you. To wake up and not be alone, to have you two in my arms. Please, stay with us until our party ends at eleven o’clock in the morning? Please.”
A beat of silence. “John, I …” Then Jenn’s face softened. “Yeah. Yeah, sweetie, I’ll stay. I’d like that.”
Lindsay squealed, pulling them both into a tight hug. A trifecta, a triad. “Oh my God, this is gonna be so epic. An overnight threesome. And with you, too, Jenn!”
As Lindsay rambled on about the possibilities, such as watching another movie, giving John dual massages, providing multiple voyeuristic sapphic sex shows, and yes, even wanting to tag-team him once more (we’ll get you hard again, baby, I promise), Jenn caught John’s eye. There was something else there too. Understanding, maybe? Gratitude? She’d agreed to the party, in part, to prove she still had it.
But this? This was something else entirely.
For the first time in years, Jenn felt truly seen. Not as a relic of the past or an emergency measure, but as a woman who could still captivate, still satisfy, still matter. She’d affected this man’s life in a manner she’d never anticipated, and damn if that didn’t feel good.
Perhaps Jenn should consider accepting more bookings?
As for John, when the three of them settled in sometime later, around two o’clock, limbs tangled and bodies warm, he experienced a happiness he never knew existed.
Is this Heaven?
No … it’s Nevada.
But was Lindsay correct earlier? Was it time for John to be proactive and change his outlook, change the way he treats people? To stop being a passenger in his own life and grab the wheel? Chart his own course? To quit allowing Stacy’s evil specter to haunt his every interaction?
To broadcast positivity?
“Oh, baby. Oh, John,” he heard Jenn whisper, fighting sleep, her nails grazing his collarbone. “I haven’t felt this good in ages. Thank you for an amazing night.”
“What did I tell you earlier, Jenn-Jenn?” Giggles tucked neatly into the nooks and crannies of Lindsay’s words. “John here is special, someone worth investing in.” Her tone dipped lower, taking on a velvet quality. “He’s my new favorite client, bar none, and has a heart of gold.”
Fuck it. No more hiding. No more self-pity. If John could connect so deeply with these two women in such a short amount of time, who knew what he was capable of back home?
Maybe, just maybe, it was time he put forth some effort and find a Lindsay or a Jenn of his own. …
<> <> <> <> <>
Justin Asher and Ryan Averdick, best friends and local paramedics with the Sulaco County Fire Department, settled at the bar in the overnight hours. Mindy Wikiera, their hostess and bartender, made her way back behind the counter after inviting them inside and offered an effortless smile, sparkly eyes, and relaxed shoulders. She laid out napkins. “Good to see you again, boys, as always. What can I get started for you?”
“What’s kickin’ tonight?” Justin twirled his head about and groaned after yet another grueling twenty-four-hour shift as a public servant. “Why don’t you surprise us, beautiful?”
Mindy regarded Justin with the faintest, flirtiest smirk. “You seem to be in the mood for a sweetened jalapeño mojito.” She leaned closer. “I’ll kick up the sweetness just a touch to offset the spice.”
“Perfect!”
“And you …”
Ryan chuckled and volunteered both hands in surrender. “Nah, Mins, nothing fancy for me. I’ll just have a beer. Been a long day.”
Mindy pulled the ingredients together and built Justin’s drink. After giving the mint a hell of a smack to release its oil, she tossed the leaves into the strainer with the limes, sugar, club soda, and white rum. She gripped the wooden muddler and thrust it into the shaker, rhythmically mashing the mixture to perfection.
Justin winced and eyed Ryan. “Too bad Lindsay is with some other guy tonight. I was hopin’ she’d be free so we could let off some steam and have a little fun. After all the calls we had today, we deserve it.”
“Yeah, that lucky fucker, whomever he is. He’s getting an overnight with Lindsay?” Ryan chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay, man. Good for him. We’ll come back next week and have our two-on-one with her.”
“Hot damn,” Justin said, grunting. “An overnight with Lindsay? I’d like to have a lifetime with Lindsay.”
Mindy’s boots clapped against the floorboard as she returned to the counter and laid out the drinks. “Could I interest you boys in another girl? We have a few who aren’t preoccupied. Sahara, Riley, Amethyst. …”
Justin loosened his collar and took a healthy sip of the fuzzy drink. “Nah, you know us, Goldilocks. Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay. She’s our gal.”
Ryan burst into laughter. “We couldn’t afford another anyway!”
After twenty-seven years of night shifts at Happy Ending Ranch, Mindy had become a living archive of the brothel’s unwritten history. Yet the house rules were clear: this wasn’t just any bar, and patrons were expected to purchase services, not just drinks.
But every rule had exceptions, and Justin and Ryan had become just that. Over the past decade, they’d earned a special place in the ranch’s inner circle, their personalities winning over Colt and Jim. What started as occasional chats had evolved into a standing invitation, a rare privilege in a place where time invariably came with a hefty price tag.
Under Lindsay’s new management, the tradition lived on. She’d made it a point to ensure the entire staff knew: these two gentlemen were still to be treated like VIPs, whether they were there for sex or simply to unwind over drinks. Their weekly visits had become something of an institution at the ranch.
“Man, did you notice the Dodgers lost again tonight? That’s three in a row, and five out of the last six. They’re playing like dog shit now.”
“Don’t worry, bro,” Justin told his friend. “They’ll be fine when October rolls around. That’s all that matters.”
The doorbell’s chime, followed by a series of gentle knocks, drew Mindy’s attention. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner – forty-five minutes until closing time. Not that it mattered much in a place where the concept of “hours” was as flexible as the patrons’ morals.
If this latest visitor wanted to party, who was she to turn down his or her business? Besides, Mindy was in for the long haul tonight anyway. She’d already told her husband not to expect her until lunchtime, forced to stay here and monitor the unconventional overnight GFE between Lindsay, Jenn, and John. Someone had to do it, right? Oh, well. A wry smile tugged at her lips. At least I’ll get a fifty-dollar bonus and loads of overtime on my next paycheck.
Mindy smoothed out her apron and strolled over to the door, plastering on her practiced smile. “Welcome to Happy Ending Ranch. I’m Mindy, and I’ll be your –”
The words died on her lips as her gaze settled on the familiar face before her. Her smile froze, then faltered, like a candle flickering in a draft.
Time stood still as Mindy’s mind raced, memories flooding back of the vivacious girl full of big-time dreams and aspirations who had captured hearts and then vanished without even saying goodbye.
“Piper?” Her usual poise deserting her, Mindy’s hand gripped the door handle until her wrist trembled. “Oh my God, Piper. Is that really you?”
Christina Bramwell stepped forward, crushing Mindy against her in a bear hug. “Wow, Mindy, it’s so good to see you again.” Christina stepped back, tears in her eyes. “Is Colt here tonight? Pamela, by chance? I’d like to talk to them about getting my job back.”
((End of Chapter Fifty - to be continued))
(Only two more chapters remaining in the story)
