Happy Ending Ranch was more crowded than it had any right to be on a midday afternoon. All eight ladies on duty were either tending to paying clients in their private bedrooms or hamming it up with potential ones in the parlor. Jim surveyed the chaos from his perch at the bar and scrunched his nose at the sight of Kenzie delighting a customer with spirited conversation. With Pamela and Lindsay away in Maryland until Monday, he knew they’d be upset at missing such a prime moneymaking opportunity of a crush of horny men from Massachusetts stopping by en route to Calafell Canyon for a fishing expedition. To satisfy the demand, he had to summon Nicolette and Elisabeth back from their trip to the Flagstone Historical Museum.
Jim was getting his buzz on as it would help offset the constant thoughts about Kenzie and his unreturned love for her. Bah, I think I have it bad. He had no idea how Colt could stand by and watch Pamela sweet-talk and then take random strangers back to her bedroom for a wild romp. How does Colt keep his sanity? It was a never-ending struggle, for sure, but Jim realized his own situation would be a million times worse if he were married to Kenzie too.
I’m afraid Colt’s head is going to spontaneously combust one day if he and Pamela hook up with Kayleigh and turn their marriage into a triad. It would be double the jealousy as Colt would have to deal with not one, but two women he cared about mortgaging their bodies for profit. I know how he is; Colt will go all in with Kayleigh, fall in love with her, and it’ll do nothing but make his time here at work even more of a living hell than it already is.
“You’re so sweet. Wow, you have such amazing, kind eyes.” Across the way, Riley was reciting her once-practiced and now-perfected lines as she squeezed the wrist of a gentleman old enough to be her grandfather.
“Thank you.”
Riley forced her teeth into a smile. “I’m excited at what you and I could do together, the fun we could have.”
“What are you into?”
“Oh, you know, a little bit of this, a little bit of that.” A few feet away, Sahara trailed a fingertip across the forearm of her own john. “You, me, you know. I’d love to party with you, baby, and I promise you’ll forget about all the anxieties back home as long as you’re with me. Most of all, you’ll forget your boring ass wife.”
Jim heard the clink of crystal and the familiar high-pitched shrill of Kenzie’s laughter from the opposite end of the parlor. He glanced over and slugged back the last of his mug and, try as he might, couldn’t stop imagining Kenzie inviting him to her bedroom instead of this hooker pirate. Despite her profession, Kenzie was an angel to Jim, with a river of dark hair rushing down her back and the pale-pink, floral sundress and matching stripper heels augmenting her small, curvaceous body. She held hands with her customer and shot Jim a furtive nod as they slipped by and made their way to the back through the curtain.
Damn, those dark, majestic eyes could turn any man into a blubbering fool, and Jim had the urge to pin Kenzie down in the tub long enough to scrub away that expensive perfume she was wearing because it always drove him batshit insane.
Circling around, Sahara dropped all the way down to her knees beside her ongoing conquest. His name was Terry, wasn’t it? “Come on, baby, it’ll be fun! I’ll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”
Jim couldn’t help the twitch of arousal that tickled his cock as he pretended not to watch. It had been too long since he had a young woman as attractive as Sahara submit herself at his feet like that. Well, not counting having to pay for it or offer a risky favor in return.
Last night, as an example, Jim slept okay. But how deep of a sleep could he really get with two sexy brunettes in bed with him as they were anxious for responses to their continued kisses, caresses, and advances? Truth be told, his dick woke up before he did. It was in a warm, wonderful place, and liked it.
Jim opened one eye and saw Riley facing away on her hands and knees, her head bobbing over his lap. His fingers clawed and tightened around the comforter. This top-shelf babe worked hard to stay in shape and had an ass tight enough to bounce a quarter off of, with an athletic stomach that made Jim wonder if she’d ever tried a doughnut.
Off to the side and seated on her knees, Sahara slid her hands up Jim’s thighs so that she could cup his balls, working them while Riley, her newlywed wife, sucked his dick. “Nikki and I became too impatient for you to wake up and thought we’d take matters into our own hands.”
“Oh.” Jim arched his neck and suppressed a chuckle. “That’s nice.”
Sahara and Riley were similar in many regards – horny stoners with vibrant, flowing, light brown hair, and far too pretty for such a seedy industry. In their mid-twenties, they claimed to love sex, weed, sex, booze, and more sex, and was there anything wrong with that?
“Look, Pa – no hands!” Riley giggled as she turned and eyed Jim, her arms extended to either side.
“When do I get to suck his dick?” Sahara asked in a mock stern voice. “Haven’t you had enough?”
“Never!” Riley said.
Ahh, the spoils of being a brothel manager.
A day in Jim’s life was always unique, but the lewd indecencies ramped up whenever Colt and Pamela were out of town on their week-long breaks. Jim was a simple man. He liked sports, beer, and food, and wasn’t about to reject a salacious young working girl – let alone two of them – if they beckoned him to their private quarters. Last evening, it was Sahara and Riley’s turn, and Jim enjoyed mindless, no-frills sex, an overnight marathon.
But it wasn’t real.
It’d be real with Cierra.
Best of all, he didn’t have to offer Sahara and Riley a penny for it. No, his payment was a relaxing of the house’s strict rules and policies with Colt and Pamela elsewhere. For one, the use of weed became rampant. Marijuana may have been legalized in Nevada in 2017, but it was only allowed in private residences or licensed social-use venues. Colt was anxious to keep his liquor license, and, more importantly, his brothel license, and threatened to report any employee if he saw signs of any drug possession or use.
Jim was more lenient, far more laid-back, and turned a blind eye (for the most part) when he was in charge. What harm could an occasional joint or two cause, anyway? And courtesans such as Sahara, Riley, Scarlett, Mariko, and Jenna, among others, were more than happy to show him their gratitude the way they best knew how. I remember poor Angelia begging me for weed and saying she’d do anything I asked in return for it. A wolf’s smile soaked up his expression. That girl was flexible as could be.
“Nikki! What the fuck?” Shoved away like yesterday’s news, Riley was now seated on the bed, hands on hips, as Sahara lowered her wet heat onto Jim’s cock.
“It’s not your dick. It’s mine too. We need to share.”
“Don’t fight over me, girls.” Deep laughter emanated from Jim’s chest as Riley clutched Sahara’s shoulders and grappled her as if they were in a catfight. Sahara, of course, reciprocated. “Girls, girls! This isn’t the WWE.”
Once the playful struggle was over, Sahara rode Jim’s dick with her eyes closed, and Riley hugged and kissed her from behind. To be shared by these wild nymphomaniacs was something Jim would never grow tired of. He gave himself over to the delirium of delights, yet it increased tenfold once Riley changed positions and swung her knee across his face. Now able to French-kiss Sahara and play with her titties, Riley bounced her little bottom atop Jim’s head, her pussy contracting around his tongue.
Willing to share, after all, Sahara dislodged herself and helped Riley get into position instead. “It’s your turn, Mallory.” Jim had no qualms as Riley held her bottom open and fucked him reverse-cowgirl, bouncing her hips and arching her back.
“All we need now,” Riley said, “is to convince Kenzie to get her sweet little ass in here so Jim can fuck her too!”
Sahara snorted. “Good luck with that!”
Back in the present moment, it was all Jim could do not to shake his head at the thought of Kenzie and her continued descent into debauchery. Why did I ever agree to get Cierra a job here? What she needed wasn’t another payday from taking part in a proverbial one-night stand – she’s been with over a thousand mongers by now, easy – but rather, a wedding ring on her finger. Cierra has no idea how she is throwing her humanity down the drain.
It's disgusting.
And it’s all my fault.
Jim had worked at the brothel since 1983. Damn, that’s nine years longer than Cierra has even been alive. He was hired by William as a maintenance man and later promoted to lead bartender once receiving the proper training. In all my time here, has any turnout left the house in a better situation than she was in when first entering it? Sure, there were those who saved their money, whether it be for a major purchase, school, or the future, and went on to “normal” lives with a husband and kids. But how many have walked out a better person? Did the brothel do anything to further them as individuals?
Hell, what right did Jim have to complain? After William passed away in 2006, the first thing Colt did was promote him to house manager. I’ve had sex with over a thousand women myself, thanks to this place. Colt gave him a percentage of the brothel’s revenue in monthly payouts, too, something that was unheard of in the industry.
“I’m glad you like what you see.”
“I do.”
“And what would you like in terms of sex? What kind of, um, experience would you like today?”
“I would like for you to make me feel like you are falling in love with me.”
A liquid rope of fortitude spilled from the bottle and into Jim’s mouth and throat as he listened to Kenzie’s negotiations with her monger via his earpiece. I need more alcohol. Sahara and Riley may have been charming their own tricks nearby, and Amelia was out on the floor giving another a table dance, while Mariko, Nicolette, Elisabeth, and Jenna were getting fucked in their respective rooms, but Jim’s entire focus was on Kenzie and … Bob.
Big ‘ol Bob.
Jim recalled the curls of Kenzie’s hair bouncing when she slipped into the back moments ago. The curve of her ass bounced, too, halfway covered by the thin cloth of her summer dress. Jim tried not to stare when she flounced away, but he couldn’t resist the urge. He fantasized about how that curvy flesh would bounce under his care as he made love to her on their wedding night.
Heh. Me? Marriage? That’s like mixing oil and water.
Had Jim ever been close to tying the knot with anyone? Stephanie couldn’t look past the fact that I worked in a brothel. She called me a flesh peddler. They dated for a while, but Stephanie balked when Jim asked her to marry him, and she laid down an ultimatum. I wasn’t about to give up my job of twenty-eight years for her.
Besides, what else was Jim qualified to do? Tend bar at The White Rabbit down the street? Be the pitmaster at Tomcat’s Burgers? He had worked here for so long that he’d be lost without it.
“Okay, there’s different scenarios I have in mind for this, ones we could play out,” Bob said to Kenzie. “But I guess if you get down to it, I’d just like to fuck you. But, um, yeah, I’d like for us to go at it.”
“So, you’re looking for something hard and nasty this afternoon, huh? I think I can accommodate you.”
Kenzie managed to keep herself cool, calm, and happy whenever she was at work. There was a constant smile on her face as she mingled with her johns in the bar, took their aggressions in private, or enjoyed a meal with her coworkers in the chick cave. Her role was morphing into a Mother Hen of sorts, not quite at Pamela’s level, but one of the younger, lesser experienced courtesans such as Jenna and Amelia often went to for advice.
Yet Jim was starting to believe that working here had begun to cost Kenzie more than she could ever afford to pay, but she’d never allow anyone to know that. A few days ago, Kenzie had a long, extended party with a foul-smelling and belligerent client, and despite her happy go lucky façade, Jim witnessed Kenzie retreat to her room afterward only to lean against the doorframe long enough to draw a shaky breath and fend off tears of humiliation.
What the hell is she doing here? She is so much better than this. Moments later, another customer requested a lineup, and Kenzie pasted on her happiest smile before being selected (and humiliated) again. I wish I never agreed to help her get a job with us.
Jim’s face sagged. She’s had a rough life.
From 2010 to 2014, Kenzie worked as an office aide for an optometrist and took college courses at night. Jim was first introduced to her when she was hired there, as he was a regular patient with recurring eye problems.
Cierra Vazquez was nineteen and had just moved from her native Puerto Rico and started at UNLV. Jim was smitten immediately, but another guy – Matthew Daigle – had already snatched Cierra up and was dating her.
Matt was tall, handsome, and charming. A few years older than Kenzie, he was from Australia and had a thick, exotic accent that fascinated her to no end. Early on, they did the things any typical boyfriend and girlfriend couple do in Vegas, such as going out for dinner, catching a movie, and hitting places up on The Strip. Because she was new to the area, Matt became Kenzie’s self-appointed guardian and gave her plenty of gifts and flowers.
There were several warning signs of things to come.
One night, they were supposed to meet at a casino. For some strange, odd reason, Matt thought they were going to meet at another casino, this one across the street. So, Kenzie waited and waited, and without yet having a cell phone to contact him, soon gave up and walked away.
Kenzie made it back to campus and found Matt stationed outside her dorm room. He was livid and grabbed her school bag, chucked it elsewhere, and yelled horrible obscenities. “You’re such a stupid bitch! Where the fuck were you? I waited over an hour for you to show!” Kenzie was terrified and didn’t know what to say. Matt later explained his actions by claiming that he worried about Kenzie because she was a stranger to the city, and there were a lot of bad people around who’d do terrible things to her. “I love you so much, and if anything ever happened to you, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”
A year later, Kenzie was staying in Matt’s apartment when he came home from work one day in a frenzy and began screaming at her for no apparent reason. Matt picked up a drinking glass and threw it. It gashed her right knee something fierce and left a deep wound, and she had to go to the emergency room. Kenzie felt compelled to lie to the hospital staff and make up a story about why she had glass shards in her knee in order to protect Matt from being charged with assault.
His excuse this time was that he missed his family in Australia, and it was causing him an emotional upheaval that he couldn’t deal with. Matt apologized, and Kenzie agreed to travel to Australia to meet his family and stay there for two weeks.
Six months later, Matt told Kenzie that not only did he love her, but he also couldn’t live without her, and asked her to marry him. They wed that weekend at a roadside chapel on Las Vegas Boulevard.
Matt made plenty of promises. Kenzie, like a lot of women who have been in her situation, had faith that he’d change his ways. They had some good times together. Kenzie was confident that her love and compassionate nature would steer him in a better direction. She understood that Matt had a litany of mental issues and figured he needed her to be with him at all times.
But soon enough, things took a turn for the worse.
Matt insisted that if Kenzie ever left him, he’d point a gun at his head and pull the trigger. Again, she didn’t know what to say. Being away from home, Kenzie didn’t have that support network where she could talk to her siblings, her parents, or her closest friends, and get advice. Over time, Matt managed to brainwash her, and she became dependent on him and believed that there was no way she could survive without his guidance.
Matt took everything out on Kenzie. Tensions continued to mount. He’d have a bad day at work, come home, and want to usurp more control. There were instances where he’d snap and belittle her until she was a crying mess.
On May 19, 2014, Matt arrived home in another whirlwind of fury and began slapping Kenzie. He grabbed her by the neck and pinned her against the wall. “You stupid cunt, I’m going to kill you! I don’t want to divorce you because you’ll steal all my money!” He started throwing punches and tried to strangle her.
By the grace of God, their next-door neighbor heard all the commotion and called the police. Within two minutes, three officers came bursting through the door and found a beaten and battered Kenzie unconscious on the living room floor. Matt was arrested and taken to county lockup while Kenzie was rushed off to the level one trauma center at a local hospital. She recovered, and Matt was sentenced to six years in prison. Divorce papers were soon filed, and Kenzie was free from all the terror.
Wanting a change and to be in control of her destiny where she’d have to rely on no one but herself, Kenzie contacted Jim (whom she had remained friends with all this time) and begged him to get her a job at the brothel. She knew that he was the house manager and all the ladies who worked there made top dollar. “I’m fine selling my body if it helps dig me out of the abyss my life has been in for the past four years. Trust me, it’ll only be temporary – six, maybe nine months max.”
Kenzie came in for an extensive interview a few days later and was offered a job.
The biggest regret of my life. Sure, perhaps Jim would feel differently if he and Kenzie were married, a la Pamela and Colt, or at least a legitimate couple. But I doubt it – Colt hates it that he didn’t get Pamela out before this place sunk its forever clutches into her too. How many times had Jim listened via surveillance to the love of his life getting boned by anonymous strangers over the past five years? Jesus Christ, man. Jealousy consumed him. How the hell does Colt do it?
Though the only other viable alternative was for Kenzie to return to the sanctity of her family in Puerto Rico, Jim still wished he hadn’t pleaded with Colt to give her a job. I love that girl with all my heart, and though I’d have less of a chance with her than I do now – as in no chance – Cierra would be better off with her family than she is here.
Anything would be better than here.
“How much are you willing to pay for the two hours you want with me?” she asked Bob during the meaty phase of negotiations. “How much are two hours worth to you?”
“Shucks, I don’t know,” the man said. “I’ve never done this sort of thing before. I have no experience with girls in your … situation. What I mean is, I’ve never, um, paid for it. Oh boy, I don’t know. How about four hundred dollars?”
“For two hours?” Jim heard Kenzie’s laugh end in a sputter. “You’re going to have to quadruple your offer, baby; otherwise, we have nothing more to discuss.”
Cheap, clueless mongers like Bob would often paw, grope, and literally suffocate Kenzie during their parties. Her body had endured all the trauma thus far, for the most part, but her spirit was fading, and her heart was impenetrable. She finally admits she’s not interested in a relationship with me because of how Matt betrayed her. Kenzie claimed to have trust issues. Yet the brothel has made that more difficult. From the heights – or depths – of dissociation, Jim believed that because Kenzie had been exposed to countless men who cheated on their wives, ones who tried to lowball and disrespect her, she’d never be able to trust anyone again. Not even me.
In wanting to help Cierra in her greatest time of need, the lowest point of her life, I made things far worse.
Jim understood that one could never know who a man truly is unless you’re a smoking hot woman naked in a room with him. If only their coworkers and families could see their behavior! Like all the other ladies, Kenzie had to change her personality, likes, and dislikes for each specific monger. So many personality shifts were hard and draining on her energy and soul, but when she didn’t put on her happy actress face, she’d receive negative feedback and perhaps be complained about to management.
