“Back in the day, we used to have paper ledgers – big logbooks – and that’s how we kept track of all the revenue and expenses for the house, how many parties each girl had during their stays, their net payout, and so forth. I’m talking financial statements with mortgage and licensing fees, liquor fees, water, electrical, and cable-Internet invoices … everything was kept on paper. The whole shebang. And it was a jumbled mess.
“But you see this here, sweetheart?” At the desk in the main office, Colt pointed toward the laptop as Lindsay hovered above his shoulder, curious. “Over the past year, we’ve transitioned all our record keeping to online accounting software. I don’t know why I resisted making the change for so long because this really takes the pain out of manual bookkeeping. Here, let me show you. This is your ledger and a running tally of all your parties and income since you came back from break on the fifth.”
“It says I’ve had thirty-nine parties totaling fifty-three hours.” Lindsay puckered her lips and gave a halfhearted shrug. “Sounds right; I can’t argue with that.”
“Oh, it’s right. We track everything. And down here,” Colt said, scrolling with the mouse, “see? Your gross pay, the house’s fifty percent included, is sixteen thousand five hundred fifty-three dollars. Nine of the twenty-two days you’ve been here you haven’t met the rent threshold, so … clicking here, you owe us two hundred and seventy dollars in rent. The six-sixty you see on this line is the amount in tips you owe the staff, and the two-sixty-four is the daily food and snack tax we implemented earlier this year. All these numbers are updated daily.” Colt rolled his head as Lindsay tickled the nape of his neck and surfed to the bottom of the page. “Your net payout for this tour is fifteen thousand three hundred and fifty-nine dollars … so far.” He pulled the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it.
Lindsay made a cute, little face, and twirled about as if she was a bobblehead. “Not bad for a nineteen-year-old high school wannabe flunky, huh? And for only twenty-two days of work?” She twitched her nose. “I have no idea why more girls my age aren’t looking to get into sex work.”
Colt’s head jerked up and his lips curled into a wolfish smile. “Beats dipping and frying corn dogs, doesn’t it?”
“I’ll say.” Lindsay bounced on her toes and stifled a silly grin. “Tell me more. I want to learn everything there is to know so I can help you, Pamela, and Jim run the brothel. I want to do my part.”
“All right. Let me pull up the expense report.”
Lindsay shivered and cinched the heavy flannel shirt tighter around her torso while glancing out the window. The back porch looked like a comforting beacon, illuminated by a yellow glow from the old-fashioned lantern. Snow fell like powdered sugar through a sifter and the soothing scent of fireplace cedar laced the office.
This was the second snowfall to hit Flagstone in the past week; the first came on November 22.
The storm was supposed to continue into tomorrow and drop upwards of five inches in some parts of the valley and perhaps cause closures of U.S. Route 95. Area residents took advantage of the rare accumulation as they flocked to Bella Park to frolic in the fluff, sled down the hills, and build snowmen.
Sahara and Riley couldn’t resist the urge as the two Southern California girls went to the backyard earlier and frolicked like children in the elements for two hours. When they came back inside, Lindsay took notice of how cold their legs and feet seemed to be, and with the snow melted on Sahara’s jeans, the mirage of wallpaper plastered to her legs.
I think I’ll stay inside.
“Some guy named Jeff Robbins sent me an e-mail on the website and said he represented Chastity’s Ranch and The Sinner’s Paradise. So different in tone than the routine, horny mongers who message me day and night.” Lindsay turned her phone and flashed the e-mail in question before flipping it back and skimming the details.
“This dude claims that he’s a recruiter for both houses and I could make double what I do now working at The Sinner’s Paradise instead of Happy Ending Ranch, and up to four times at Chastity’s when I turn twenty-one and am legal enough to work there.” Her gaze drifted from the touchscreen toward Colt. “Do you think this is legit?”
“Oh, it’s legit, all right. I hate Jeff Robbins. No, no, I despise him with a passion.” Colt’s sudden change in demeanor dropped hot coals into the pit of Lindsay’s belly. “He’s your stereotypical smut peddler, slick and suave, and thinks he’s cool as ice, yet in reality he’s full of shit, and makes his living poaching girls from the smaller brothels like ours.” Colt gripped the arm of the chair. “Oh, don’t get me started. Promises more money but fails to mention all the added pressure, the cutthroat environment, and the unreasonable demands from management you’ll find in the larger houses.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Worry tainted Lindsay’s voice at witnessing the surge of emotion from Colt. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for the long haul. You know that.” Lindsay rarely saw Colt’s feathers get rankled like this, but as was the case with everyone, he had his moments. “I’ll delete the e-mail.”
“Here, look at this before I show you expenses.” Colt took a moment to put his hands in his lap and exhale a long, purifying breath. “This is the business mileage report for both me and Jim. We track our business miles individually – like picking girls up and dropping them off at the airport, taking them to the sheriff’s station to get their permits, day trips, and then when it comes time to do taxes, we can write them off.”
“What does that mean?”
As Colt continued to explain the ins and outs of operating the family business, Lindsay glanced out the window once again and blew out her own swoosh of air. This was supposedly going to be the most accumulation Flagstone had received in a single weather event since 2016, but it couldn’t hold a candle to the snowstorms she experienced while living in Utah last winter. This is pretty, I admit it, but I’d rather be on the beach in Saint Kitts.
Two months ago, Lindsay, Pamela, and Colt celebrated their budding thruple relationship by spending eleven days in Saint Kitts and Nevis, a pair of neighboring islands in the West Indies. Bordering the Caribbean Sea on one side and the Atlantic Ocean on the other, they enjoyed five-star accommodations at The Sunset Reef in a deluxe king studio with sheer volcanic ridges featuring waterfalls rising as high as 3,000 feet as their backdrop.
“Marco!” Colt, a blindfold stretched over his eyes, called out inside the resort’s pool.
“Polo!” Lindsay and Pamela shouted back in unison, splashing water in his direction.
Whether it was the guided hiking tour and climb of Mount Liamuiga, exploring the rainforest, flying high on a zipline, cruising the wide-open sea on a catamaran, or a three-hour ride along The Saint Kitts Scenic Railway, this romantic getaway was the perfect stress elixir and solidified the feelings they had as a triad.
I wish we were there now instead of this blizzard.
Saint Kitts and Nevis were blessed by their tropical locale and gentle year-round trade winds which created ideal climate conditions. Mother Nature had carved out verdant valleys through the centuries, hung brilliant rainbows in the sky, and trimmed its borders with smooth, saffron-colored beaches.
I should be sipping mimosas again on the speedboat. The legal drinking age there was eighteen, so Lindsay had free rein to get hammered. And boy, oh boy, there were nights when she abused that right. On second thought, I should be sipping a mimosa right now too.
At one point, Colt relaxed at the water’s edge and watched Lindsay either ride the waves or fall over her surfboard almost as quickly as she got back up each time. A smirk creased his lips; it was equally thrilling and amusing to see Lindsay’s struggling as she wore a two-piece string bikini, its bright neon colors contrasting well with the psychedelic designs all over it.
In her defense, Lindsay was a novel surfer at best, a true beginner who’d taken up the sport a few days prior. Yet as pleasing as it was to look at her, Colt couldn’t stop his gaze from shifting toward Pamela, ogling her fantastic body and the aura of positivity that surrounded it.
“You go, girl.” Colt’s smile increased tenfold as Pamela turned her surfboard 180 degrees and dropped into a prone position, paddling out against the waves that thundered in like stampeding horses from the great unknown. Unlike her new breaker buddy and apprentice, Pamela was a seasoned surfer with a skillset and vast knowledge of the sport. She found a high arc and pushed herself up to a standing position, checked her balance, crouched low, and rode the powerful front all the way to the shoreline.
She shook her head several times, flinging saltwater from her thick and luxurious hair. Her wetsuit like a second skin, Pamela helped Lindsay out of the water, too, and the two ladies hugged. Colt had seen his wife in far less countless times, of course, but dammit if the form-fitting neoprene covering Pamela from neck to ankle wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Hey. Are you paying attention?” Colt flayed Lindsay with his gaze back in Nevada. Back in the snowstorm. Back in their current reality. “I’m not talking to a brick wall here, am I?”
“Sorry.” Lindsay scratched a vague itch on her nose and shrank away. “I’m just daydreaming a bit. Please, I want to learn so I can help.”
This would be the first time one of Lindsay’s tours extended beyond three weeks. She was told it would be rare, but as a de facto member of management now, it was necessary. With tomorrow being Thanksgiving and most everyone wanting time off to be with loved ones, the house had a skeleton crew this week – Lindsay, Pamela, Sahara, Riley, and Colt. That’s it. Christina had been scheduled, too, but she had second thoughts at the last moment and decided to stay with her family back in Ohio instead. A lesser boss would’ve threatened to fire her, but Colt was cool about it. Then again, did Lindsay expect anything else? It’s the holiday season. No harm, no foul, no repercussions. Even Jim was off for a few days, celebrating with Kenzie, Nicolette, and Elisabeth in Las Vegas.
Hell, we don’t even have the chef on duty.
Lindsay had no qualms about working on Thanksgiving and through Monday night, but truth be told, she’d rather be in Citronelle with her own family as well. She knew Colt and Pamela wouldn’t have had any issues if she requested a few days off, either, but didn’t bother asking. It would be pointless because I know my family doesn’t want me there. I’m the black sheep, the disgrace, the outcast.
Still, the poor girl missed her parents terribly, plus her three sisters, and all the others near and dear to her heart. I wonder how Grandma is holding up in the nursing home. Soon, it would be twelve whole months since Lindsay had any contact with them. No one even told me that Uncle Craig passed away. She’d read the tragic news online a full month after the fact while overseas. I would’ve gone to his funeral. …
Meh, I have a new family now. Lindsay didn’t understand just how many personal sacrifices Colt and Pamela had to make in running the brothel until she saw them first-hand. They are here every Thanksgiving and Christmas. Colt and Pamela never saw their family back in Maryland on the big days. Everyone wants off. Someone had to be at the house and see that it stayed open for business, right? It was open 365 days a year.
Earlier, Pamela recounted a story from four years ago, in 2015, when she and Colt were the only two employees working on Christmas Day. That evening, there were three mongers in the bar all waiting to have their separate turn with her while she was entertaining a fourth. What is this, a barber shop? A salon? Those three guys refused to go anywhere, either, fearful they’d lose their place in line. Pamela said they were all incredibly lonely and had no family to spend the holiday with.
Like me. …
No! Lindsay had Colt and Pamela! And while she certainly wasn’t lonely, it did pain her heart to imagine what it would be like at the Anastacio home tomorrow evening. Her mother would, as usual, set an alfresco table in the dining room large enough to accommodate the entire clan. God, I’d give anything to taste the green bean bundles wrapped in bacon Mom made every Thanksgiving. Aunt Rose always brought over the most delicious rolls. Cousin Danato the sweet potato casserole. And what could be better than garlic herb maple roast turkey marinaded in apple cider sauce? Mom’s specialty.
Hey, I could be like those mongers that one year and have no one. Indeed, Lindsay would count her blessings and be thankful tomorrow that Colt and Pamela were in her life. I’m just going to have to get used to things being this way from now on, aren’t I? No Mom, no Dad, no sisters, no Anastacios at all. That’s the price I paid. On the flip side, Pamela promised Lindsay the most amazing Thanksgiving feast she’d ever had. Pamela would prepare a vegan lentil loaf with cranberry glaze as the main course. Shoot, I don’t even know what that is.
If only one thing was certain, though, it was that Lindsay would have a special little holiday with her new family. Colt and Pamela make every day special. Perhaps an added bonus, albeit a small one, was she’d get to be with Sahara and Riley too. They’re really nice girls.
“Now let’s talk about how we take those credit card payments and put them in the bank,” Colt said. “Here, let me show you how to make deposits in QuickBooks.”
Crunching numbers was never Lindsay’s forte and this crash course in how to do it was already making her head spin. Ouch. Still, I must learn. I need to know everything. Perhaps if Pamela retired in 2021 as she kept promising Colt she would, Lindsay could slide right into her role within the house’s infrastructure and make it a seamless transition. Who’d have ever thought that one day I might be Colt’s right hand … woman? Fingernails drummed against Lindsay’s thighs and her lips carried into a slight downturn. Fat chance of Pamela retiring, though; I don’t see that happening any time soon.
Lindsay got her own personal head start on “life after the brothel”, at least professionally, as she’d begun taking a host of science and environmental college classes online in October. I don’t know how I get accepted, but I did. Having a degree in Forestry and one day being employed as a park ranger would mean a fraction of the money she made now, but when the time came, Lindsay would make the switch. Working in nature would be ideal for me. Besides, she didn’t want to stay at the brothel forever. Riley always says we have a limited shelf life in this industry. I think my cutoff point will be age twenty-five.
With that in mind, Lindsay’s birthday was coming up next week. I’m gonna be twenty … the big two-zero. I wonder what Colt and Pamela will get for me? She had an Amazon Wish List that she shared with numerous clients consisting of items such as sexy dresses and lingerie, jewelry, expensive shoes, gift cards, school supplies, an Apple watch, a MacBook Pro, a robotic floor vacuum, and so much more. Recently, she had a month-long supply of her favorite coffee pods delivered courtesy of Tony. He’s such a generous man. And since Pamela reminded the masses on the bulletin board that Lindsay’s birthday was next Wednesday, she was hoping for a rush of presents to arrive. Dave e-mailed me earlier and said to be on the lookout for a portable space heater.
“This software is designed for business owners like me to enter any bills so that I can run reports at any time and see who we owe, how much we owe, and different things like that. Here, I’ll show you.”
How about I just suck your dick underneath the desk while you do your QuickBooking?
While that was the best idea she had all day, Lindsay’s mind harkened back to their September vacation instead. What I wouldn’t give to be in a bikini and snorkeling in the ocean again. She’d come a long way since her days growing up isolated in the middle of the California desert. Mom and Dad had us on total lockdown; we barely left the town. She once compared it to being in jail. Since then, Lindsay had explored new places including Nevada, Utah, Montana, Hawaii, Arizona, Virginia, Maryland, and the Caribbean. I’m becoming an expert on Las Vegas too!
Wasn’t seeing the world like this – going on all these adventures – what she’d always wanted?
Not at the expense of losing my family, though. …
The doorbell suddenly rang, reverberating throughout the property.
Lindsay’s eyes flashed down toward Colt. “A customer? Today? In this weather?”
“I’m kind of surprised myself, but then again, not really.” Colt was already up and making his way toward the front entrance. When the house was empty like this and the doorbell rang in the middle of the day, pandemonium would ensue for twenty to thirty seconds as all the working ladies would drop whatever they were doing and rush off to their private rooms, barricading themselves inside, and await either the lineup buzzer or a knock on their door.
Sahara and Riley made a beeline from the recreation room up the steps. Pamela had been at the bar, studying for school, but she was already back in her (business) bedroom by the time Lindsay hurried out front. She was quick to follow, running down the hallway and disappearing one door down.
It was like a fire drill, liable to occur at any second, yet honed and practiced many times over in order to greet and tend to the potential customer(s) as quickly as possible.
Five minutes later, Colt issued a coded knock from his knuckles on Lindsay’s door and let himself in. “Sweetie, no lineup this time. But you have a john asking to see you out front. It’s one of your regulars – Javion, the young Black guy from here in town. He wants an hour with you, solo.”
“Well, well, well,” Lindsay said in a deep, husky voice, blue eyes flicking down at the oversized flannel shirt she wore. Actually, it was one of Colt’s heavy-duty shirts, and despite being mismatched to Hell and back again, it paired well with the pink sweatpants, thermal underwear, and red slippers with the fuzzy rabbit heads she also had on to combat the shivers. “I guess I should get changed, then.”
“You have three minutes.”
*
An all-encompassing smile swung free from Javion Higgin’s mouth as he heard the familiar clank, clank, clank from off to the right side.
That was his favorite sound – Lindsay’s high heels approaching on the wooden floorboard behind the curtain.
The twenty-seven-year-old inhaled a deep breath and once the fabric flipped to the side, he took his time, starting at the shoes. A fashion statement by themselves, they were purple, showcasing bright red toenails, with clear three-inch vinyl platforms and seven-inch heels. Come-fuck-me pumps to the highest extreme. The straps wrapped around and buckled at her ankles, leading his dark eyes up to sleek, sexy calves.
And the dress – oh dear, the dress – didn’t start until three-quarters up Lindsay’s thighs, thankfully, and amplified the curve of her hips exponentially. Javion’s eyes kept traversing northward and he realized the dress was a little purple number, too, bright and blingy with its sequins, with laces stretched and bound on either side holding it together. Its top tapered to her breastbone and between her breasts, leaving a deep swath of cleavage exposed.
Would Lindsay have her famous red lipstick on today? God, Javion loved red lipstick. And stripper platform heels. In any color. But before he could get to those lips, Lindsay used them to say, “Oh my goodness, Javion. It’s you! Hi! How have you been, baby?” Heels shuffled and silicone bounced before she was able to close the distance and toss her arms around him for a spirited hug. “You haven’t been here since September.” She stepped back and the longing in her eyes unveiled. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, babycakes.” This gal was always beautiful, every time, but today Javion found himself awestruck because Lindsay had done something new with her eyes, something mystifying, giving them a smoky, hypnotic appearance. Her honey-blonde hair was swept back off her face – not a strand out of place – and her smile sparkled with a captivating translucence, like some gorgeous, ancient Greek goddess statue come to life.
“You look, and smell, incredible.” Unable to resist, Javion slung an arm around Lindsay’s waist and reeled this mythical sculpture closer. “It’s so good to see you again.” He pressed his lips to hers, moist and red, and her tongue coaxed his open. “Jesus, girl. You’re ready to go already, aren’t you?” Two feet away, Colt’s fingers dug into the heel of his hand as he tightened it around the bar. As Javion pulled back, ending the kiss, he kept his mouth closed. “Sorry, Kayleigh. I couldn’t help myself.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Giggles tore from Lindsay’s abdomen as she saddled the stool next to him and swung her knees his way. “If anyone, you deserve a quick freebie like that.” She coiled a long tendril of hair around her fingertip and clutched his knee with her opposite hand. “I don’t mind.”
“You are so sweet, girl.”
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”
“Nah, man, I’m good,” he told Colt.
“How about you, Miss Kayleigh?”
She blinked with feigned innocence. “I’ll take a Modelo.”
Colt stifled a chuckle. “Umm, no. No, you won’t.”
“Oh, darn. Can’t fault a girl for tryin’, can you? I guess I’ll take a Diet Mountain Dew, then.” She uncrossed her arms, acceptance morphing into silliness, and focused on Javion. “So, how have you been? And what are you doing here in this snowstorm?”
“I only live five houses down the street,” he reminded her. “I walked.”
Amid the stench of tobacco and stale ale, Javion was able to reacquaint himself with Lindsay over the course of the next hour. They laughed and flirted nonstop as Colt resumed his bookkeeping work, but he stayed in the parlor this time, and was certainly within earshot of everything they said. Lindsay spoke at length about her island-hopping vacation but didn’t dare attach Colt or Pamela’s name to it.
This would be Javion’s fifth party with Lindsay, the first taking place last year, and the next three this past July, August, and September, respectively. Javion didn’t mind the unpleasant odor and neglected amenities, either, as he’d been a good, returning customer of Happy Ending Ranch since Nicolette took his virginity nine years ago. To him, this establishment was the only stage upon which he could press play and let his sorrowful life go 5K HD.
“How about we sneak back to my bedroom and get more comfortable? I’m freezing, baby, and I’m hoping you can warm me up.” Lindsay again giggled as, when walking with him in the corridor seconds later, Javion moved his hand from the curve of her ass, trailing down her thigh to slip up underneath her minidress. Unbeknownst to them, Colt stood back at the curtain, his features coldly schooled on the proceedings. “Hey, stop it, baby! That tickles.” They stumbled like two drunks and bumped into the door. “You’re mean. You know how ticklish I am.”
If the client was on the younger side and Lindsay felt comfortable with him (or her), as she did with Javion, she was fine charging the house minimum of $500 for a one-hour GFE. Sure, if she didn’t have another customer today and thus, didn’t eclipse the $600 benchmark to negate her daily rent charge of $30, it would be a bummer, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world either. Lindsay understood not everyone had the type of income she did and for younger mongers like Javion, it could be a massive struggle to save up enough just so he could have the privilege of walking through the front door here again.
Colt and Jim wouldn’t hesitate to turn anyone away if they weren’t willing to fork out some dough.
On the other hand, if the monger was older – typically meaning a higher budget – and negotiating his initial party with her, Lindsay would begin the bidding at $800 an hour. Granted, she was willing to haggle down to as low as $600, but typically settled somewhere in between.
Javion paid $500 in cash.
It wasn’t long before Lindsay was licking the full length of his cock, again and again, and then ventured lower, swiping at his balls. Javion grasped the comforter with both hands and she did it again, enjoying the sense of empowerment and the way it made his hips rock upward. Lindsay swallowed Javion’s erection as deep as possible and sucked as she drew it out slowly, expertly, anchoring her attention on its engorged head while her tiny hand gave long, brisk strokes.
Being with a Black monger was always unique, a real treat, and she did her best to satisfy her customer. His body shivered; his thighs flexed; he gripped her hair so tight she feared it may rip out. But that was okay – it meant she was doing a good job.
“Please, stop. I’m gonna come, but I wanna be inside you first. I need to be inside you. …”
“Oh, babycakes,” Javion later said in a voice thick with exertion. “Oh, babycakes, you wicked girl. You are nothing but trouble, aren’t you?” His eyes canvased Lindsay’s face and her full breasts as they bounced in tune with his hard thrusting, her pussy being ransacked in the missionary position. “Oh, Kayleigh. God, I love you.” He bent forward, extended his arms to either side of her head, and lay atop her as she cried out, her hips bucking beneath him despite the excess weight. “I love you so much!”
In the aftermath of dual orgasms, Lindsay was limp in his arms, barely able to hold on to his waist with shaky legs by the time Javion caught his wind. He bumped their foreheads, then took Lindsay’s face in his hands and kissed her, long and deep. “You are an angel.”
She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth and looked up at him with a smirk. “I’m not cold anymore.”
He laughed. “I’ll be back to see you before Christmas.”
“Hmm.” Lindsay again flicked her tongue across his. “I’m looking forward to it, baby.”
After bidding Javion farewell forty-five minutes later with more drawn-out hugs and kisses, as soon as the front door closed, Lindsay felt Pamela’s hand on her ass. She closed her eyes and twirled her head, emitting a timid murmur, then smiled as Pamela fondled those little round cheeks beneath the treacherously short skirt.
“You okay, honey? How are you feeling?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. That party was awesome.” She held her two forefingers far apart. “Dear Lord, his dick is this big. And he is such a kind, kind man. I don’t know why some girl hasn’t snatched him up and married him.”
Regardless, Lindsay was starting to slip into the rather casual attitude toward fucking that was so prevalent amongst other working girls. She loved her job, unlike the overwhelming majority, and took great pride in it, but was having so much sex that, at least as time went on, the act was becoming routine. Nothing would bowl her off her feet again like last year, such as emotions and becoming attached when she had her initial one-on-one parties with Sammy and Becky.
I’ve been with one hundred and fifty-two mongers total so far. One-fifty-two! Perhaps in the future, that number would eclipse 2,000 as it had for her hero and mentor. My goal is to break whatever Pamela’s record turns out to be.
“But where is Colt? Did he run off to the store or something?” How could he, in this weather? “He’s always waiting for me after a party.”
At those words, Pamela’s forehead creased, and she glanced to the side for a moment, but then turned back to Lindsay and forced a smile. “Colt wasn’t feeling well and asked me to monitor your party. That’s why I was out here for the exit interview with Javion. Don’t worry, though, Colt’s okay. He went to lay down and rest for a while.”
“Are you sure he’s okay?” Fear prickled up her scalp. “Is he sick?”
“No, no, he’s fine. Don’t worry about it, okay? Just a little tired is all.” Pamela’s hand kept rubbing, right on Lindsay’s ass, as she added, “We had a customer here a little while ago, honey, who requested to see you, but you were already preoccupied. Colt came out and spoke to him for several minutes.”
“Oh?” Lindsay’s skin sizzled and a pleasant buzz flowed through her. “I get back-to-back customers in a driving snowstorm?”
Pamela inclined her head. “Aren’t you the lucky one?”
“So, this guy? He wants to see me? Did he make an appointment, I hope?” How old was this customer? What did he look like? What was his name? Did he have any freaky fetishes? Was he a veteran monger or a first-timer? No, none of that typically mattered to Lindsay anymore. I’ll do whatever they want as long as they pay me accordingly. “Is he coming back later today?” I’m still waiting for someone to ask to put me in a diaper.
“He has an appointment at five o’clock, yes, but Colt took his number and said he’d get back to him about whether to show up or not because you have to approve the party first.” The circular motion of Pamela’s hand increased, and she pushed three fingers against Lindsay’s raw, overworked clit. “This customer is someone you personally know, honey. Someone you went to high school with back in Citronelle.”
OhmiGod. Lindsay gasped, her cheeks pinking up a nice deep shade.
“Remember you don’t have to agree to party with him if doing so would make you uncomfortable.” Pamela’s hand retreated, leaving Lindsay forlorn with its absence. “Colt wanted to be sure I reminded you of that. But he did make it clear that this customer is not to hound you or ask tons of questions about the whole situation with Evie, so at least you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Who is it?” Zack? Clancy? I wouldn’t fuck Zack again for a billion dollars! Big Dick? Her face burned brighter at the thought of the lecherous old neighbor traveling 475 miles across interstate lines to pay to have sex with her. No, wait; you didn’t go to school with him, silly! Everyone in town back home knew what Lindsay did for a living, of course, and more importantly, where to find her. Wasn’t it only a matter of time before this happened? Someone from her past showing up with plenty of cash to spend?
“His name is … Donald Stanlick.” Pamela’s eyes lifted from her smartphone. “He said he went to Citronelle High and graduated in 2018 like you did.”
“OhmiGod! Donald Stanlick.” Lindsay tucked fidgety hands at her stomach. The same Donald Stanlick who wore bottlecap eyeglasses and almost always had four or five pens stuffed in his shirt pocket? Donald Stanlick the total outcast, the class nerd? Oh, fiddlesticks; this was awkward, and awkward on so many levels. Though Donald was an adult now, Lindsay recalled their grade school years when he often wore suspenders and the worst clothing. “I haven’t thought of that name in ages.” Donald was an easy target for the likes of Zack and Clancy too. He was bullied relentlessly. Overweight, uncoordinated, and a social reject, this was the type of boy Lindsay wouldn’t have been caught dead with when she was growing up either. My life would have been over.
And now it may be time to fuck him.
“Donald told Colt that he’s always had the biggest crush on you and came here looking to party.”
Lindsay’s eyebrows knitted together. Donald had a crush on me? “Does he have any money?” How can he? He’s my age and lives in a shithole of a town. And how the fuck did he make it from Citronelle in this weather? Three years ago, Donald applied for a job at the corn dog stand where Lindsay worked, at the fairgrounds, and she told her boss she’d quit if he was hired. There was no chance in Hell of Mr. George choosing Donald over me; he enjoyed flirting and stealing glances of me way too much.
Hmm, I’d like Mr. George to show up here one day too.
“Of course, Donald has money, sweetheart, else you and I wouldn’t be having this discussion. I met and spoke with him for a few seconds too. He’s at Tesoro’s now, grabbing a bite to eat.” Pamela rubbed her chin, her face hurting from the wide grin that lifted her lips. “This Donald is quite the character, too, I’ll say. He’s a big boy! Colt says he has a thousand bucks and is hoping to spend it all on you.”
“Oh, wow. A thousand bucks?” Lindsay stepped back and wrung out her hands, her complexion paling to a ghostly white. One leg bounced up and down and she bit her lip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’m down.” Ugh; Donald Stanlick. How bad can it be? “Tell Colt to text him back and that I’ll see him at five o’clock.”
(End of Chapter Thirty – to be continued)
