“Jesus Christ on a cracker!” Lindsay’s voice floated into the recreation room downstairs – the chick cave – and Donald followed it to an open door in the back.
“No fucking way. Is this thing broke? It cost me two hundred bucks.” A delicate web of lace crisscrossed Lindsay’s shoulder blades, held together by the thinnest of buckles. Lower down, a scrap of fabric masquerading as a G-string nestled between two delectable asscheeks, leaving little to the imagination. Christina stood beside her, doubled over, her hands busy with something just out of sight.
“Looks good to me, boss.”
Donald’s eyes were drawn to Lindsay’s curves, but even that spectacular view couldn’t compete with the technicolor wonderland of the storage room. Sex toys hung from the ceiling like bizarre wind chimes, crowded end tables, and spilled off shelves onto the floor. A sad, half-inflated sex doll slumped in the corner, an empty beer bottle its only companion. On the central table, a veritable forest of dildos stood at attention, arranged in what Donald realized with a start was the outline of a giant cock.
Oh, I get it; the Amazon fairy must’ve paid you two a visit today. “Hey there, girls.” He couldn’t help but smile at all the ridiculousness. “Good afternoon.”
A yapping sound erupted as Aleksandr, Christina’s Shih Tzu puppy, burst into the room, curious about all the colorful contraptions.
Lindsay whirled to face Donald, eyes wide, jaw hanging loose enough to catch flies. Between her thighs, jutting out like some kind of neon signpost, was an enormous pink strap-on that looked like it could double as a baseball bat.
Donald arched a brow, having no idea what he’d walked in on, but damn. So much for the sweet, wholesome image Lindsay’s bulletin board worshippers had crafted.
“Donnie! I, uh … this isn’t … I mean, we were just …”
“Testing the merchandise.” Hiccupping through a tempest of giggles, Christina scooped up Aleksandr before he could lay waste to their phallic masterpiece. “Quality control and all that.”
“Right! Quality …” Lindsay trailed off, flushed cheeks betraying her embarrassment. “Oh, fuck it.” She squared her shoulders, one hand finding her hip as she thrust her breasts out. The pose lasted all of two seconds before she wobbled, caught herself, and tried again. Her eyes, glassy from too many cocktails, locked onto Donald’s. She stumbled, hips swaying in what she assumed was a seductive manner, the pink monstrosity bobbing with each step.
“God, that shirt looks good on you,” she slurred, her gaze roaming his chest. “Y’know what would look better, though? Me. I’ve been dying for a good fuck all day.”
“Usually never a problem for you, is it?”
Lindsay lurched, her hands pawing at his chest. “Fuck, Donnie. I’m so fuckin’ horny.” She pressed against him. “Wanna take a dip in Lake Lindsay? All entries are open. Or maybe go muff diving with me in Piper’s Pond?”
“Easy there, foxy first mate,” Donald chuckled, gently removing her hands. “You’re three sheets to the wind and I’m not sure that’s just Lake Lindsay I’m feeling.”
“Doesn’t he look hot, Piper?”
“Scorching.” Christina retrieved another bottle of Samuel Adams from the cooler and took a swig. “Though, I think our favorite boy is playing hard to get … again.”
As Lindsay’s hands dipped dangerously close once more, Donald felt guilty for enjoying every second of this feel-fest but knew when there was a time for business, and a time for pleasure. “Sweetheart, you have …”
Lindsay edged closer, the pink rubber poking him in the hip. Her eyes dropped to the space between them, and she gasped, recognition finally dawning.
“OhmiGod. This isn’t what it looks like!” Each time she tried pushing the dildo down, it sprang back up like some demented jack-in-the-box.
Aleksandr, seeing his chance, wriggled free from Christina’s arms. With a high-pitched yap, he launched himself at Lindsay, his tiny teeth snapping at the appendage.
“I swear to God, we were just … fuck!” Lindsay stumbled, nearly tripping over the excitable Shiu Tzu. She snatched the beer bottle from Christina and swung at the dildo like a drunk samurai. “We got the Amazon delivery, and then … we got carried away. Oh, fuck me. Aleksandr, heel! Bad dog! That is not a chew toy!”
The animal whined as Christina’s hands closed around his midsection mid-leap, tucking him underneath her arm. “Yes, it is. That’s exactly what it is.”
Lindsay’s cheeks burned bright red. “OhmiGod. Day drinking is officially cancelled.” Her fingers fumbled with the straps, panic rising in her voice. “It’s not … we didn’t … oh, Goddammit.” She yanked at the harness, her movements growing more frantic with each failed attempt. “It’s stuck. I can’t …” Tug, tug. “ … get this …” Tug, tug. “… damned thing …” Tug, tug. “… off!”
Christina’s laughter burst forth, her body shaking so violently she almost dropped Aleksandr. “I like it when you drink!”
Lindsay shot her a withering glare. “You’re a horrible influence.”
“True.” Christina nodded emphatically as she wiped tears from her eyes.
“I’ve got you,” Donald said, carefully unstrapping the dildo’s harness and setting it on the table, aware of Christina watching his every move. The breakneck energy drained from Lindsay’s body, her shoulders dropping as she exhaled. Donald’s lips parted, a quip ready to fly, but as Lindsay’s gaze softened, the words died in his throat. Instead, he offered a grin, noting the familiar warmth spread through his chest. “You okay?”
That earned a sweet smile, but Lindsay quickly buried her face in his chest. “I’m so embarrassed.”
Christina bent to pick up the puppy. “Come on, Aleksandr. Let’s give Ken and Barbie some privacy.” She blew Lindsay a kiss and motioned with two fingers to Donald, mouthing, She and I’ll clean up this mess later, I promise.
Lindsay’s gaze drifted skyward, a chuckle escaping her lips. “God, I can be such a screw-up at times.”
“Speaking of screwing, there’s some action brewing upstairs in the parlor. An … older couple … just walked in and asked for you by name. Seem like good peeps.”
“A couple?” Lindsay’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Her hands flew to her messy hair, frantically combing through tangled strands. “Man and woman?” The twenty-four-year-old spun to face Donald, swaying. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Lindsay’s gaze zipped around the cluttered room, the chords in her neck straining. “Shit, shit, shit, shit! I’m a disaster.” She sniffed her breath and recoiled. “Christ, I smell like a brewery too. Donnie, quick –” Her hands patted her bare thighs, searching for nonexistent pockets. “Mints? Gum? Anything?”
Lindsay stumbled toward the door, then back to her husband. “I need to get upstairs. My new orange dress. Perfume.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Oh God, and a shower. Can you stall them? Just … ten minutes. I swear, ten minutes tops. No, no, make it fifteen!”
<> <> <> <> <>
“Oh, I got back in the game. I’ve been double-dipping for the past three years, actually.” Glancing over her shoulder at the attractive, polite couple on the opposite side of the bar, Jenn rinsed the last of the lunchtime dishes and set them in the drying rack. “House madam and pulled-out-of-retirement courtesan extraordinaire. Yep, that’s me. Just making sure I can afford my avocado toast and the student loan payments for my kids, you know?”
The pink-and-blue bubbles popped as Jenn sprayed the suds down in the sink. “My youngest, Bethany, she’s gonna be a senior in high school, but will be headed off to UNLV next year.” Jenn paused, her nose crinkling. “I swear, one minute you’re changing diapers, the next you’re figuring out how to pay for college.” Finally, she turned toward the man and woman, tossing the towel onto the bar. “Enjoy these years with your son while you can. You’ll see for yourselves one day what I mean, and trust me, it’ll come quicker than you think.”
Jenn absently rubbed her reddened, irritated hands together. “I’m by appointment only. I won’t participate in lineups or anything like that, not anymore, at least. Still, I have a couple of regulars – a select few who know the secret knock.” She winked, then rolled her neck with an audible crack. “I see six, maybe seven clients on a weekly basis. Keeps the joints limber and all the bills paid.”
“Hey there, Steve.” Already reaching for a dark rum, Jenn turned toward another gentleman. “You need a second?” She added pineapple juice, cream, and five cherries, and slid the mug his way. “How’s Goldie doing? Last time you were here, you mentioned she was having issues with her hip, and the vet recommended surgery.”
Steve Feldman, a Flagstone resident, reached into his pocket for his phone and held it up while swiping through photos. “Yeah, look at those stitches. But she’s much better, now, thank you. Had a bit of a scare.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Jenn’s lips pressed into a thin line once she examined the first photo. But with each subsequent image, her expression softened. By the final one, she was beaming, her eyes twinkling as she met Steve’s gaze. “Gotta love a man who is a good dog dad. Thank you for getting her the help she needed.”
Following extensive renovations in 2021, Happy Ending Ranch now offered an immersive experience crafted by the renowned Las Vegas design studio Daddario. With its one-of-a-kind oasis aesthetic, the brothel presented its patrons with a blend of rugged desert charm and luxurious comfort. The main lounge area epitomized this updated fusion, serving as the heart of the establishment.
The bar showcased a captivating mix of materials: from raw stone surfaces to warmly lit metal screens, rustic wooden accents, and a lush array of desert flora. Ambient neon lighting added a modern, edgy vibe, while the open plan encouraged a relaxed, social atmosphere. Daddario’s design for Happy Ending Ranch captured the essence of Nevada’s rugged landscape, reinterpreted within a refined, intimate setting.
The bedrooms were a far cry from the gaudy, outdated cookie-cutter designs of yesteryear. Each room was unique and carefully crafted, blending luxury with a touch of the wild. The centerpiece was always the bed, a sprawling California king draped in sheets so soft they felt like a whisper against the skin. Mood lighting could transform the space from sultry crimson to cool blue at the touch of a button, while a high-tech sound system allowed providers and patrons alike to set their own soundtrack of pleasure.
The result was an atmosphere that was uniquely inviting – a desert sanctuary where guests could unwind and indulge their forbidden desires in a setting that shattered the traditional concept of the rural Nevada brothel.
“What in the world?” Jenn snapped to attention as Paisley stumbled in from the west corridor. Outside, the afternoon sun dusted the day with golden brilliance, while inside, eighteen-year-old Paisley was a far cry from her usual polished self. Her silk robe hung askew, one shoulder exposed, while her feet trudged forward in sandals that seemed primed to fall off with each new step. Dark circles shadowed her bloodshot eyes.
“Paisley.” Jenn’s voice was strict, all business, as she moved in sync with her subordinate on opposite sides of the counter. “Paisley, are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me, honey.”
“Ehh, s’nothing. Just … long night.” Mumbling, she labored toward the frosted glass partition to the right which led to another host of bedrooms and the kitchen. “Need food. That’s all.”
“Paisley, wait. You don’t look well at all. What’s going on?” But when it became apparent that the young prostitute would ignore the request to stop, Jenn’s arm shot out, her fingers snapping decisively as she pointed. “Donald, watch the bar.” Without waiting for an acknowledgment, Jenn stormed through the swinging gate and beat Paisley to the partition, gripping the doorframe and effectively blocking her path. “Hey, missy, don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”
The married couple watched the scene unfold, their eyes following Jenn as she ushered Paisley out of sight (and undoubtedly scolded her in private). Husband and wife turned toward each other and exchanged knowing glances, shaking their heads in unison.
“Some things never change, do they? I sure as hell don’t miss the babysitting.”
“Me neither.”
Donald approached, sliding seamlessly into his role behind the counter. “Can I get either of you anything else to drink while you wait for Lindsay?”
“Nah, bud, but thank you,” the man said. “We’re good with water.”
“Hey,” Steve called to Donald as he flipped through the available ladies via the bar’s interactive monitor. “Is it true that you’ve got a gal here who’s been in over two hundred porn flicks?” Steve kept scrolling until he happened upon the name from his research. “Piper Merlot?”
“Two hundred? That might be lowballing it. But, yeah, that’s Piper, alright. She’s kind of a big deal.”
Christina’s porn star status made her a featured courtesan at Happy Ending Ranch. Like Jenn, she was available by appointment only. Yet, her standard rate for a GFE was $4,000 an hour, four times higher than any other lady. Being a celebrity, Christina could command such exorbitant prices, and managed to book at least four or five parties each week with starstruck fanboys.
“Man, a real porn star? Here, in Flagstone? And one of the more famous ones at that?” Steve drew his head back, eyes wide and uncomprehending. “That’s … wow. I could see her at Chastity’s Ranch or maybe based independently out of Vegas, but I’d never think someone as in-demand as this chick would be working in boring old Flagstone.”
“Piper seems to like it here. Says it’s a nice change of pace from Las Vegas and Los Angeles.” Donald glanced around before adding, “Between you and me, the owner here treats the girls pretty well. Might be part of the draw.”
A few feet away, the wife brought a hand to her mouth, disguising her laugh as a cough.
“Enough!” In the adjacent corridor, Jenn had just finished reading Paisley the riot act, yet was receiving some blowback. “I don’t care what excuses you got. Look at yourself! You’re a hot mess! Your ass is going to bed. Now. You’re off for four hours, minimum. After that, we’ll reassess.”
Paisley vibrated, opening her mouth to argue, but Jenn held up a hand. “This isn’t a debate.” She jabbed a finger toward the staircase. “Come on, get to steppin’. Move, little girl. I’ll have Fernando bring you a lunch plate.”
“Hey, rockstar,” Lindsay said, having witnessed the full interaction. “Looks like someone had themselves a night, huh?” She wrapped an arm around Paisley’s shoulder, her grin soft, almost motherly. “Four hours with Darius, of all people? A thirty-eight-hundred-dollar party on your first night? Lucky girl.
“But hey, you’re not looking so hot. Why don’t you get some rest? I remember what my first party was like too. Trust me, a few hours of sleep will do wonders. Listen to Jenn, okay? Recharge those batteries. She’s your boss and she’s looking out for you.”
Paisley mumbled something, but the words were incoherent.
Lindsay’s smile vanished, her gaze hardening. “Alright, Paisley, playtime is over. You’ve got exactly five seconds to get your ass to bed, else you’ll be on the next Greyhound back to Tampa. Do I make myself clear?”
Paisley’s eyes widened, her earlier defiance melting into fear. She nodded quickly, then turned toward the partition.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Jenn intercepted, redirecting her. “You’re not traipsing through the bar looking like that again. We’ve got guests out there. Take the back way – downstairs, then up the other side. Avoid the parlor. Don’t worry, you’ll get your food. I’ll see to it.”
As Paisley gave her a robe an overexaggerated cinch and descended the steps, Lindsay and Jenn watched her with narrowed eyes, then turned toward each other.
“Damned turnouts,” Lindsay quipped. “I think they’re becoming the bane of my existence.”
“Oh, how quickly you’ve forgotten your own wild days.” Jenn snorted, brown hair swaying as she shook her head. “I distinctly remember muttering those same exact words about you not too long ago.”
“Oh, come on now.” Lindsay swatted at Jenn’s forearm with both hands in rapid-fire succession, biting back a laugh. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“No, there were times when you were much worse.”
Once the trip down memory lane receded, Lindsay straightened, smoothing out her dress. “Alright, so this married couple that Donnie says is here to see me? I hope all the waiting didn’t run them off.”
“Nah, they’ve been patient. It’s all good.” Jenn’s eyes appraised Lindsay, a vision in blazing orange that could make jaws drop and pulses race. The minidress, if one could call it that, was more like an idea, a tantalizing strip of fabric that clung to her curves like a desperate monger.
It started upper-thigh, bypassing the laws of decency, leaving miles of toned leg on display and accentuating the swell of her hips in a manner that defied physics. The sides featured crisscrossing laces pulled taut, with sequins scattered about that caught the neon lighting with every hypnotic movement of reveal and conceal, making Lindsay shimmer like a desert mirage all her own.
Her infamous cocksucker-red lipstick was in full effect, too, a puff of cherry that demanded attention and promised sin. Perched atop sky-high platform heels that complimented her outfit, Lindsay was a towering inferno of sensuality, every inch the ultimate fantasy come to life.
Jenn let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl. Fifteen minutes ago, you looked like something the cat dragged in, but now?” She wagged her head back and forth, impressed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you made a deal with the devil. Donald made it seem like you needed a few hours of your own to detox … but look at you now.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve always had a knack of cleaning myself up really fast when the situation calls for it.” Lindsay opened her smartphone’s camera app and found her reflection primping back. Immaculate blonde tresses trailed down one shoulder. A perfectly manicured nail traced the line of her jaw, adjusting an invisible flaw.
“It’s showtime.” With determined, yet professional eyes already focused on the partition, she sashayed toward it.
But once on the other side, Lindsay’s stride faltered. Her eyes widened, lips parting in a silent gasp. For a beat, she stood frozen, one platform heel hovering atop the floor.
“This was always your grand vision, wasn’t it? Finally made it a reality, I see.” Colt McCarron pivoted on a flip-flop, his gaze sweeping the parlor like a searchlight. “This … holy cow. Yeah, place looks a little different than it did the last time we were here, that’s for sure.”
Gripping the banister for support, Lindsay’s opposite hand flew to her mouth, fingers splaying across her nose.
Beside her husband, Pamela nodded. “Amazing, Lindsay. Simply amazing. You brought this old house to life in ways that we could only ever dream of.” She turned toward Colt, lips quirking into a mischievous smile. “But that’s only because Mr. Sexy Scruff here …” She motioned with a thumb toward him, “… refused to spend a dime on any improvements.”
Colt cut her a glare, then chuckled and refocused on Lindsay. To her, he was just as desirable as ever, wearing a white linen shirt and blue chino shorts.
Was that a new tattoo sneaking out from beneath his collar?
Elsewhere, Jenn and Donald watched the proceedings with fascinated gazes, Jenn’s elbow casually resting atop his shoulder.
“You know if you got any girls who’d be interested in partying with a couple of sun-starved East Coast refugees?” Colt’s brows danced theatrically as he eyed Lindsay. “I’ve been drowning in crab cakes and Old Bay for too long. Figure it’s time we got a taste of that Nevada sizzle again.”
“Yeah, we’re lookin’ to spice up our marriage.” Pamela prevented her grin from curving and perhaps turning goofy. “Rekindle the flame.”
“Got any suggestions?” Colt asked.
“Yeah, I got a girl in mind. She loves couples.” The sight of Colt and Pamela, so familiar yet changed by time, sent a rush of memories cascading through Lindsay. Pamela’s teachings, Colt’s early lectures. The way they took her back in, gave her shelter, and offered the opportunity to rebuild at the lowest point of her life. All the time they’d bonded as a trio outside the house, too, particularly in Maryland, and their many adventures.
Where was Kaden? He had to be home with Grandma, right?
Has it really been the wedding since I last saw them? “So … how long of a party are you two looking for?”
“All weekend.”
“I was thinking though Monday, at least, maybe even Tuesday or Wednesday,” Pamela told Colt. “I’m not allowing you to be a cheapskate this time.”
Lindsay edged closer, breath hitching in her throat. “And what if I refuse to charge you?”
Pamela sipped water, shoulders grinding like she was dancing to the catchy background music. “Then we may never leave. And maybe, just maybe, apply for jobs here?”
Colt stifled a grin. “You got any openings for an old bartender and the world’s hottest MILF?”
Lindsay’s teeth flashed, white and broad, before she catapulted herself at them for a three-way embrace full of laughter, sobs, and the promise of countless new adventures to come. …
THE END, of
The Girlfriend Experience
Thank you for reading!