Watching the impromptu dance party unfold was perhaps the sexiest thing Jim had witnessed this month. Of all the girls, Jackie stood out. Her outfit, more an open invitation than a minidress, turned modesty into a distant memory and desire into an immediate reality. While the other girls scrambled to avoid Roxanne’s awkward, windmilling arms, Jackie made dodging look like part of the dance, lustrous brown hair framing her face. Roxanne, though a cute and fiery Latina, was undeniably an awful dancer. The way Madison gazed at her from the bar, though, Jim knew Roxanne had found her perfect match. Just as Colt, he believed, had finally found his.
Once Jackie gathered the girls mid-parlor to take a selfie before all they dispersed, Jim turned his attention to Colt on the opposite side of the bar. This whole time, Colt’s eyes had been heavy, his shoulders hunkered down, as he focused strictly on his dinner plate. Jim wondered if Colt had even noticed the wild dancing that broke out. Not too long ago, he would’ve joined in, and ultimately ushered one or two of the ladies back to his private room for a sexy romp. But now?
Colt’s mind was a whirlwind, centered entirely on one person: Dakota. No, Pamela. Even using her real name set her apart from the others. How captivating she was, the spark in her eyes, the depth of her thoughts – everything about Pamela threatened to consume him. How many eighteen-year-olds have we had pass through here who ask to visit the Hoover Dam during their first day off and then the Grand Canyon on their second? None. Generally, they wanted to go to Vegas and blow through money. Clearly, she wants to see the world, explore it … just like I do. Pamela was unique, indeed, and special. Very special.
The weight of Colt’s past indiscretions bore down on him, a relentless burden. Fuck. A parade of pretty faces flashed through his mind – women he’d charmed, used, and discarded like yesterday’s news. Sherilyn hasn’t said a word to me since I bailed on sleeping with her that night. The same night Pamela arrived. Christ, I didn’t even think twice about ditching Sherilyn and how it may have affected her. When did I become such an asshole?
But with Pamela, the very thought of repeating this toxic cycle made his insides twist into knots. She deserved better. Hell, they all did, especially Sherilyn.
This time, it had to be different. Colt wanted – no, needed – to do right by Pamela. But how? In this neon-lit house of painted smiles and commodified caresses, how could he even begin? Every step felt like treading on quicksand, each a potential freefall into the abyss of past transgressions.
The cosmic joke wasn’t lost on Colt, either – here he was, surrounded by a harem that would make a king envious, yet paralyzed by the fear of reaching for the one woman who mattered. No, Pamela certainly wasn’t just another conquest; she was his shot at redemption, at proving to himself he was more than his father’s son. That fucker from Chastity’s Ranch calls me The Coyote Cub.
And the prospect of failing Pamela, of tainting her like he had countless others, proved to be a terror that eclipsed any Colt had known before.
“Hey, are you okay, bud?” Jim snatched a bottle of sparkling water from the cooler and offered it.
“Huh?” Colt looked up, startled by his inner demons. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” He took the bottle but didn’t open it.
Jim leaned against the bar and shot his friend a glare. “I call horseshit. You’ve been staring at that ribeye steak like it holds the secrets to the universe. What’s eating you? You’ve been acting funny lately.”
“It’s nothing, man.” Colt’s hair was disheveled from raking his fingers through it repeatedly. “Just thinking.”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “About Dakota?”
Colt’s jaw twitched. “Pamela.” But then he winced.
“Pamela, huh? Since when are we on a real name basis with the girls? It’s your father’s golden rule not to be.”
“We’re not,” Colt said quickly, then paused. “I mean, I’m not. It’s just …”
“Just what? Come on, Colt. I’ve known you too long. Hell, since you were twelve. This isn’t like you. What’s going on with this girl?”
Colt struggled for words, the weight of his earlier thoughts pressing down on him. How could he explain to Jim, of all people, the turmoil he was feeling?
“You’re in love, aren’t you? Admit it.”
Colt’s eyes widened at Jim’s blunt assertion. He opened his mouth to deny it, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he hissed out a breath. “I … I don’t know, man. Maybe? Shit.” Colt whipped his head up. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s known you since you were trying to sneak in here during your junior high days.” Jim folded his arms at his chest. “But seriously, bud, what are you thinking? You know the rules. Hell, you helped write half of them.”
Colt’s fingers tightened around the water bottle, the plastic crinkling under his grip. “I know, I know. It’s just … she’s different. She’s not like the others.”
“They’re all different … until they’re not,” Jim said, his voice lowering. “Remember Lisa? Jenny? You once told me you wanted to marry both of them and live the three-way dream forever. How’d that work out for you?”
Colt made a face at the names, memories of past heartaches surfacing. “This isn’t like that. Pamela, Dakota, she’s … I don’t know how to explain it. She makes me want to be better, you know?”
“Look, I get it.” Jim’s expression softened. “Dakota is young, she’s a breath of fresh air, she’s got that whole innocent thing going on. But at the end of the day, she’s here for a reason, same as all the others. You really want to get worked up over some girl who’s barely out of high school? The same girl who asked me this morning for three additional hours off before starting her shift because she’s still exhausted from getting fucked six ways from Sunday last night by five different guys?”
“Dammit, Jim, Dakota is not just some girl. And don’t you dare talk about her in that vein ever again.” Colt treated him with a look of unmitigated fury. “You do, and I’ll fucking fire you and blacklist you from all things LPIN. Forever. I don’t care what Dad says.” He chuffed further aggravation through an open mouth. “That’s the biggest problem we have in this godforsaken shithole. This industry is hard enough on these girls; yet me, you, and Dad only make it worse. We make it worse. I’m sick and fucking tired of treating them like they’re all interchangeable. Like they don’t matter. We should be doing whatever we can to help them, not belittle them.”
Jim recoiled, palms up. “Whoa there, crusader. Take it down a notch. I’m just trying to look out for you. You know that, right? Your dad would have a field day if he knew how you felt about Dakota. Not to mention the extra pressure he would put on her, the added scrutiny.”
Humiliation crumpled Colt’s spine. “He knows already, Jim. That old buzzard knows everything in this house.”
Jim studied Colt for a long moment. “You always were a dreamer. Just … be careful, alright? I don’t want to see you get hurt again. Don’t do anything stupid and go jumping off the deep end, okay?”
“Too late for that. Way too late for that.” Colt spat the words through gritted teeth, finally snapping open the water bottle. “Dakota told me she is reading Notes from Underground. Dostoevsky, Jim. Can you believe that? Fucking Dostoevsky.” He took a long swig of water. “Dakota is reading nineteenth century Russian literature while all we want to do is stamp whore on her forehead and pretend that’s all she’ll ever be.” Joints crackled as his hands balled tight. “This girl is way too good for us.”
<> <> <> <> <>
“So, tell me about yourself. What do you do?”
“Umm, I’m a software developer,” Carson Peacock said.
“Is that so?” Sherilyn’s eyebrows arched with practiced intrigue. She tilted her head, allowing a cascade of chestnut curls to fall over one shoulder. “That’s cool. So … you work on computers and stuff like that?”
“Yeah.” After all the research he’d done, Carson knew the script as well as Sherilyn did. This banter was just a prelude, a formality before the main event. Yet he played along, adjusting and centering his eyeglasses while nursing a drink alongside her at the bar, clinging to the illusion of genuine connection for as long as she would allow it to continue. “Applications, you know, design … website applications and designs.”
“Cool. That’s cool.” Sherilyn uttered a hushed laugh. “I like computers. So, how’d you hear about me? Jim said you showed up on our doorstep twenty minutes ago and asked for be my name.”
“Well, uhh, I … was a little nervous and shy about, you know, doing this, as I’ve only had a couple of experiences with local providers – you know, handjobs, massages – but I wanted to go all the way this time, and I was being a little picky. I came across your biography page on Happy Ending Ranch’s website and all those amazing pictures, and, you know, one thing led to another, and here I am.”
“Oh, I’m so flattered.” Sherilyn licked her lips and allowed two notes of chuckle to escape. “And you came all the way from Indiana to meet me? Wow.”
“So, I’m, uhh, just really interested in how a beautiful girl like you gets involved in, you know … working at a brothel. How did you get started?”
“Umm, it’s just something I was always interested in. I’ve always been a really sexually open person, and I just love to try new things, and like, experience new people. Everyone has something new to offer, so I’m excited to see what you have to offer.” Sherilyn’s laughter remained subdued, yet sultry. “Looking forward to it.”
“You like the strange, huh?”
“Yup.” She gave a clipped nod. “New and exciting. It’s what I’m all about.” After a beat of awkward silence, Sherilyn said, “I have some new lingerie I’ve been dying to try on too. I hope you like red.”
“Yeah, it’s a power color. So, what do you like to do for fun?”
“Umm, I like yoga, you know … anything that gets me relaxed, and hiking – just being outside – and of course, having lots of sex.”
Carson chuckled behind pursed lips. “Sounds exactly like my hobbies.”
“Oh, yeah?” She edged closer, fingers laced before her on the countertop. “You do yoga too?”
“I do.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“I do yoga and hiking, and –”
“Nice.” She offered a facsimile of a smile. “We have so much in common.”
“That … we do.” He wet his lips, his voice cracking. “You have gorgeous eyes.”
“Thank you.” She tucked a long, loose strand of hair behind her ear.
The creak of floorboards drew Sherilyn’s attention toward the left corridor. Colt emerged, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing a canvas of tattooed forearms and sun-kissed muscles, with the shirt itself tucked into perfectly tailored dark slacks. A big, beautiful man with the classic matinee idol looks of a 1950s movie star, though reborn in this modern house of vice.
As he strode across the parlor and past them, without a word, Sherilyn’s breath caught in her throat, her fingers tightening around the shot glass. Her eyes followed, a hurricane of emotions swirling – desire, hurt, longing, anger – each fighting for dominance. Burgundy lips parted, a thousand unspoken words hovering. But Sherilyn remained silent, watching as Colt vanished down the right corridor, taking with him the fragments of her composure.
“Everything okay?”
Sherilyn’s false lashes fluttered, a rapid-fire reset as she pivoted back to Carson. Her lips curved into a dazzling smile, bright enough to rival the neon signs outside. “Of course, baby. Everything is fine. It’s just peachy. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m with you.” Her hand found his thigh, fingers splaying possessively. “But you know what would make things even better?” A laugh bubbled from her throat, pitched just a touch too high, as if trying to drown out the fading echoes of Colt’s footsteps. Her grip tightened, almost imperceptibly, anchoring herself to the present. “Why aren’t we in my bedroom yet?” She leaned in, her whisper a purr. “I know you want to fuck me. Stop being such a gentleman and make your move already.”
Sneakers scuffling, Colt rolled his head in exaggerated circles as he logged down the dimly-lit hallway. The sounds of the parlor, particularly Def Leppard, faded with each step, replaced with the asthmatic wheeze of the ancient air conditioning unit.
Colt rubbed his temples, willing away the beginnings of yet another headache. All he wanted was a moment of quiet, a breath of space to untangle the knot of thoughts cluttering his brain. This place. Pamela. Dad and all his endless bullying. And maybe, just maybe, to allow himself a small indulgence, an ice-cold Olipop from the kitchen refrigerator. The promise of that crisp, fizzy relief of plant-based soda was almost enough to quicken his pace.
As he was about to turn and head inside the kitchen, a click echoed down the corridor. He knew that sound – the distinct noise of a bedroom door opening. Since none of the girls in this half of the house were busy entertaining a client at the moment, he shrugged it off. Probably just Laterika wanting to go down the block and buy a pack of smokes.
But once he glanced that way, time seemed to stand still. It wasn’t Laterika’s door that had opened, but Pamela’s. Colt’s lungs swelled as she stepped out, the fluorescent lights flickering, as if struggling to contain her radiance.
Pamela gazed back at Colt, a vision in crimson and gold. The sequins on her dress sparkled, creating a shimmering aura around the slender, yet voluptuous body she had worked so hard to achieve. One strap hung halfway down her arm. Colt’s heart squeezed at the image. Everything about Pamela was mesmerizing, from the way she twirled her hair when she was nervous to the way her eyes gleamed when she spoke about her parents and three sisters.
Colt’s attention was drawn to the intricate lacework adorning the bodice, delicate golden threads weaving patterns that reminded him of sunlight dancing on the Pacific. The dress’s sweetheart neckline accentuated the elegant curve of her collarbone, a perfect complement to the daring cut that exposed most of her back.
Her hair, usually bouncy and vibrant, now cascaded in loose curls over her right shoulder, the golden strands catching the light like spun silk. A small, diamond-studded clip held back the left side, revealing the curve of her neck.
“Hey there, heartbreaker,” Pamela said as she approached and eventually ensnared him with her arms. “Where are you rushing off to?”
Roxanne and Madison squeezed past as Pamela boxed Colt in against the wall with her magnificent body. She brushed a thigh against his leg and snuggled her breasts tight against his torso, setting off a chain reaction within him. Colt’s throat lurched with a tight swallow as he tried (but failed) to fend off the wolfish grin spreading his lips. He’d wanted to kiss Pamela for so long and was certain that sex with her would rock his world. But desire alone wasn’t enough; Pamela had awakened something deeper in him, a longing for connection he’d long thought impossible.
“Cat got your tongue, Mr. McCarron?”
She was looking at him like she wanted to devour him, and that did wicked things to all his best parts.
“Hardly.”
“What happened, baby? Another Barbie doll leave you unsatisfied tonight?” she asked in a low, teasing tone.
Colt’s imagination ran wild, contemplating the various timbers of Pamela’s voice. Fierce? Gentle? Dominant? Submissive? Uninhibited? He struggled to maintain his composure. Colt had so much pent-up frustration that he feared he may spontaneously combust.
He lifted his chin and said, “If anyone’s unsatisfied, it’s not me.” Sherilyn. Just as he had been leaving the women in his life for the better part of a decade. Unsatisfied. Too many broken promises.
Pamela’s gaze intensified. “None of these girls are good enough for you anyway.”
“I’m not with any of them right now, am I?”
“No, you’re not, and there’s a reason. Smart, sure of yourself, never backing down. Better than this … house.”
Am I?
She drew closer, words barely audible. “A week ago, you thought you had all the answers, but then I come along and change all the questions.”
Her hands, soft and small, glided along Colt’s forearms before settling on his decorated biceps. Each fingernail scrape sent shockwaves coursing through him. Pamela eliminated any remaining distance, her body now flush with his. As their cheeks touched, Colt’s thoughts took a heated turn, down that old, familiar dirty path. He couldn’t shake the idea of tasting her lips.
“You can’t deny this, can you?” Pamela had her mouth in the same breathing space as his. One hand ventured along his side, grasping his hip. “That pulsing inside, like your blood’s on fire, making you ache for more? It’s like an insatiable hunger. Overwhelming, isn’t it? Oh, poor baby.” Her lips brushed his ear, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “No woman on Earth can make you feel the way I do.”
Colt’s knees almost buckled. Heaven help him. He was outmatched, outmaneuvered by this sexy tigress on the prowl. A freaking teenager.
Pamela’s fingers ghosted the scruff of his jawline. “Yeah, you feel it. I can see it in your eyes.” She flattened down a tuft of his hair. “The clench in your belly. The way your dick is getting hard.” She teased her knuckles over the bulge in his slacks. “The way your pulse skyrocketed when I mentioned your dick. Of course, you feel it.”
A sound, raw and desperate, tore from Colt’s throat before he could suppress it.
“For thirty-two years, you’ve been drifting … lost.” Pamela inclined her head, brown eyes holding him captive. “But now I’ve found you. I’m the answer, baby. The answer to all your questions. When you finally embrace what you truly desire, and give in to what you need, you’ll never be lost again. I promise it. Because you’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours. Body and soul, forever.”
Her tongue darted out, flicking over moist, pink lips. Colt’s heart jerked against its tethers.
“See you back in my bedroom, Mr. Sexy Scruff.” Pamela smiled, tracing the edge of her forefinger across Colt’s dry, trembling mouth. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Pamela’s sudden departure left Colt reeling, his lungs burning for air he’d forgotten to breathe. He slumped against the wall, head tilted back, struggling to regain his wits. Her words echoed, a gauntlet thrown down he couldn’t ignore. But how in the hell would Colt survive the night in the same bed with the woman who nearly made him come with nothing more than the suggestive press of her body and a few sinful sentences?
Only one way to find out. Destiny beckoned, and he would answer it. The gravity of Pamela’s allure pulled Colt forward, inevitable as dawn. He stepped through the doorway to her bedroom, leaving behind the man he was, embracing the man he wanted to become.
The past finally exhaled; the future drew its first breath.
(End of Chapter Nine – to be continued)
