Olivia Brynn Collection Volume 1

by Brynn, Olivia

  “Oh, I can do this. That’s not the problem. I just…uh…”

  By the deepening grooves on Lottie’s mouth, Maureen could tell that the woman’s patience was waning. “Then what is the problem, Mr. Green?”

  “I need to make sure she knows what she’s doing.” he pointed one blunt finger at Maureen before facing the younger woman and dragging that hand over the shiny skin of his scalp. “Once you get this ball rolling, it would be difficult to back out.”

  “I don’t plan on backing out,” Maureen assured him, “but if it makes you feel better, put a clause in the contract.”

  Lawrence Green stopped pacing, and faced her. She was subjected to a thorough study. When his eyes continued their journey down her body, his expression grew even more confused. He had to be wondering if there was something wrong with her.

  She allowed his perusal longer than she would have allowed any other man to ogle her in such a way. She almost stood to her full five-foot-ten, knowing that she would tower over this man, which she found was a good way to put a stop to any man’s wandering eye.

  She didn’t stand though.

  She bit her tongue, reminding herself that she’d asked for this. She’d be under more of a microscope with this ball of fire she was igniting than just the curious undressing by Mr. Green.

  His eyes lingered on her full breasts before finally meeting her eyes. “How will you prove to…your customer that you are what you say you are?” His voice now lower and raspier than before.

  Maureen raised one dark brow in amusement. “I was told it would be obvious.” She allowed him to shift in embarrassment for only a moment. “To be blunt, Mr. Green, my hymen is intact. It didn’t tear during tampon usage or strenuous activities. I have documents from my physician, and I’m willing to be examined by a physician of the customer’s choice.” She nodded toward the manila folder she’d laid on his desk at the start of the meeting. “It’s all in there.”

  “This isn’t a con, Lawrence,” Lottie added. “Maureen has never been with a man. Can you do this, or shall we find another attorney?”

  Lawrence’s posture deflated. He even collapsed back into his chair. “I’ve got a daughter her age.” A sad smile softened his otherwise sandpapery face. “She’s got three kids.”

  Maureen wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but she suddenly felt both comforted and complimented.

  “What I’m doing isn’t all that strange, if you think about it. Both men and women do it all the time, both legally and otherwise. And as far as the other, you’ll have to agree with me that I’m a minority. The product I’m selling is routinely given away without a thought.” Maureen methodically returned her files to her briefcase. “Will you accept the assignment, Mr. Green?”

  He took in a huge amount of air into his lungs, closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. “I’ll get started on it this afternoon.” He stood politely, and escorted them to the door. “Call me if you change your mind.”

  Maureen stopped and faced him. “Don’t worry, I won’t change my mind.” She offered her hand, and he shook it.

  “When can we expect to hear from you?” Lottie’s irritation gone, she was now back to the poised business woman.

  “I should have it ready by tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll get started on the ad campaign then. Goodbye Mr. Green.”

  Maureen’s held-together countenance lasted until she’d secured the seatbelt of her car, where she collapsed in relief.

  Well, she’d done it. The tiger’s tail was in her sight, next step is to grab it. She could scarcely believe that she was able to follow through with her plan, and now that she did, she was feeling anything but nervous. What was the big deal anyway?

  Chapter Two

  “I can’t believe I actually did it, Lottie.” Maureen followed Lottie into the bright office. The tiny woman looked even smaller behind the massive oak desk. Lottie merely lifted her thick lashes, revealing her blue eyes, before sitting down in front of her computer.

  “Of course you did. You said you would.”

  Maureen flopped onto the chaise near the ten foot window. “We can start the ad campaign now.” She threw her hands over her head, and arched her back over the chaise’s arm. She felt as giddy as a child, and grinned at her aunt, who even though her image was upside down, smiled indulgently.

  Maureen laughed. “I didn’t think I’d feel so…I don’t know…free? I feel like I jumped off the cliffs in Acapulco!”

  Lottie left her desk to collapse on the floor at Maureen’s side. “I only worry you’ll end up with a big oaf who won’t know what the hell he’s doing with whatever the hell he’s got.” Lottie’s heavily jeweled fingers gripped Maureen’s ears and she shook her playfully. “I hope your first experience doesn’t turn you off of sex altogether.”

  “After all you’ve told me about the joys of sex, I think I’d be willing to root through a few bad apples.”

  “And you’ll definitely have to.” Lottie leaned against the chaise. “The only bright side here, is that the higher the bidding, the better your chances.”

  “What do you mean?” Maureen sat upright, sensing a serious conversation.

  “Well, think about it, if the highest bid is ten dollars, you’ll get a high school kid with a face full of acne and thirty seconds of foreplay.”

  “Ten—”

  “Don’t worry,” Lottie held up her hands, “your virginity is going to go for a lot more than that. But the more money a man has, the more women flock to him. No matter what he looks like. It might not be fair, but it’s true. He’ll have experience, and hopefully he can please you.”

  Maureen shrugged. “I can’t be picky. I’m agreeing to sell myself to the highest bidder. I can’t put specifications on his looks or abilities.”

  “I’m thinking once you put this face and this body on the auction block, you’ll be amazed.”

  Maureen giggled. “Can you believe we’re doing this? I can’t wait. When can we start the announcements?”

  Lottie grabbed Maureen’s hand and dragged her across the room, “I’ve already been working on it. This email is going to all of my regular clients. Read through it. Once I send it, the offers will start flooding in.”

  Maureen sat in the big leather chair to read the email open on the screen. It could have been written by a national ad agency. “Reenie O’Hara?” They had decided early on to find a suitable pseudonym to protect her future privacy. Maureen’s eyes scanned the ceiling in thought. “I like it. No one calls me Reenie except you, not even mom would know that one. That way I won’t be too confused if…when he calls me by name.”

  “Honey, he’s gonna be screaming your name. I tried to find one that has a nice Irish ring to it, and O’Hara sounds so—”

  “Scarlett?”

  “Well, yes. Romantic. Old fashioned. And scarlet is a beautiful color of red, just like the light above my door, so it has a double meaning.” Lottie winked.

  Maureen shook her head. Her aunt’s audacity was one of her most endearing traits. She returned her attention to the email.

  Reenie’s character was touted; she was made out to be the perfect little girl from the perfect little Midwest town. Nothing was a lie, but Maureen hadn’t ever heard herself being described in such a way. There were blank spots on the page for photos, which would be taken this afternoon.

  “You know, you could be one of the only Madames in Vegas to have a respectable marketing job on the side.” Maureen read on. “You’re sure my mom didn’t write this?”

  “She very well could have, you sound good don’t you?”

  “Damn good.”

  Lottie smoothed her niece’s hair. “She called this morning.”

  “Who, Mom?” Maureen forced a disinterested tone, even though she had to swallow hard to rid herself of the lump in her throat. She missed her mother terribly. Before her plan to make this small fortune, there wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t have some sort of contact with her mothe
r. Even during college when they were separated by thousands of miles and two time zones, Maureen always got in touch somehow. Just this morning she picked up her phone to dial home and caught herself just before pressing send.

  “She wants to talk to you, honey. Just talk. She misses you.”

  “I miss her too.” Maureen blinked back unshed tears, then lowered her gaze from the computer screen. “But all we do is fight about this…plan and neither of us is willing to give. In the end we both end up angry. I told her I’d call her when it’s all said and done. It’s only a month. We’ll pick it up from there. Please. Don’t ask me to talk to her again, it’s hard enough already.”

  “Okay sweetie. I just hate seeing my only sister and my only niece hurting so much”

  Maureen gave Lottie’s hand a squeeze, and continued reading the electronic pamphlet.

  One month.

  “When this is all over, Lottie, you’ll have to write my resume. I’ve never sounded so good. Hell, I want to sleep with myself!”

  “Not on your life.” Lottie’s porcelain face bloomed with color. “I’ll have to hide all the toys. That hymen’s gonna make me a rich woman.”

  “Don’t worry.” Maureen grinned. “I’ve abstained for my entire twenty four years, I think I can last a few more weeks.”

  Lottie gave her a good-natured slug, then reached over to scroll to the bottom of the email. “Read the fine print.”

  Maureen leaned forward to read more carefully. “Should we wait for the contract from Mr. Green?”

  “We won’t need that until the end. This is just to stir the sharks into a frenzy. Besides, I copied and pasted some legal sounding stuff from the last time we auctioned a girl off.”

  “How much did she go for?” Maureen tamped down the guilt that came from thinking of the other woman as a commodity.

  “Close to a quarter mill.” Lottie’s eyelashes fluttered as she appraised Maureen’s body. “But that was for charity, and she had nothing on you; she was nowhere near a virgin. Okay now scoot. You’ve got several appointments.” Lottie handed her an index card with carefully printed times and addresses. “By tomorrow morning you’re going to be a very well-known woman in Vegas.”

  Maureen engulfed the older woman in an embrace. “You’re wonderful, you know that? I’ll meet you at three for the photography, and then I’m taking you out for a big steak.”

  “Make it lobster, and I’m there, babe.”

  * * * * *

  Maureen sighed, trying carefully not to crack the masque drying on her face. The mud bath was a new experience for her, as was the full-body massage that almost put her to sleep.

  She could easily get used to such treatment. When it’s all said and done, maybe she’d have a little money left over to treat herself more regularly.

  While two technicians worked on her acrylic nails, and another gave her a pedicure, yet another covered her face with a warm moist towel, leaving Maureen to relax alone with her thoughts.

  She’d never allowed herself to spend hard-earned money on such pampering. Even if she did have money left over, chances were she’d put it right into the bank. Maybe invest in something.

  Not that she knew anything about investments. Budgeting, sure. She could feed two grown adults on fifty dollars a week, but that’s as far as her knowledge went. Assuming she was able to raise enough extra with this scheme to worry about such a problem, would she even be tempted to blow it all on shoes?

  Maybe Lottie knew a banker or someone who could give her some sound advice.

  An esthetician removed the towel, and gently rubbed the masque residue from Maureen’s cheeks.

  No use worrying about what might not materialize. Maureen knew she’d be lucky to even earn her ideal minimum.

  She admired her new nails while beauticians buzzed around her with a new haircut, color and style. Three hours after Maureen Sullivan walked in to the spa, Reenie O’Hara walked out.

  Her next appointment was with a style consultant. The tight-faced woman picked out a wardrobe that was somehow both sexy and demure. Maureen twirled in front of the mirror in a black skirt, its tulip hem flared just below her knees, reminding her of a 1930’s Hollywood starlet.

  “These will have to be altered; I’ll have them ready on Monday.” The sales-woman separated the purchases into two piles; those Maureen could take with her today were boxed and bagged. “I’ll send the bill to Lottie.”

  After grabbing a sandwich from a deli, she met Lottie at the photography studio, where the huge warehouse had been set up with a variety of backgrounds. For two hours, Maureen was arranged and photographed until she thought she’d see flash bulbs for a week. The last of the series was taken outside in a ranch setting among million-dollar show horses.

  “So far you’re at three K.” Lottie tapped on the keyboard of her laptop.

  Maureen poked her head from behind a folding screen. “Three thousand dollars? Already? But we haven’t even issued the press release or sent the email to your clients.”

  “That’s just from three bids.” Lottie pursed her lips. “I might have to assign one of the girls to monitor this, it looks like it’s gonna be crazy.”

  Her wildest dream was to earn a little over two hundred thousand dollars. She needed close to a hundred and twenty to bail her mother out of her financial situation, and any extra would go toward the purchase a new car, her flower shop, and maybe the down payment on her own home, prioritized in that order. Not that she expected to get anywhere near that amount. Three thousand was a very good start though.

  “Wait until we post these pictures.” She almost didn’t want to change back into her blue jeans; the outfits chosen for the pictures were gorgeous. “That one on the white stallion was so poetic.” That particular photo showed Maureen in a flowing white summer dress, one strap hung off of her shoulder, and she leaned against a magnificent pure white horse, her breasts pressed against the animal’s flank. The photographer described a steak dinner in vivid detail to catch raw hunger in Maureen’s eyes.

  “I love that one. I’m getting it framed for the Place’s hallway.”

  “Oh God, don’t do that. I told you this was a onetime thing. I don’t need you trying to con me into service.”

  “I don’t con anyone into service, you know that.” Lottie scoffed. “All of my girls are here by choice. This is the big time for professional women.”

  “Oh I know. It’s just not the life for me.” Maureen spoke over the sounds of the photographer’s assistants clearing equipment.

  “I’ve got great plans for your future, Reenie. None of them include your genitals. Well, except for the part about the pitter patter of little feet.”

  Maureen emerged from the dressing area to find Lottie smiling sappily. She looked young and…normal. Before moving to Vegas, Maureen thought that prostitutes would have a certain look about them. She was sure she’d be able to spot them immediately. True, Lottie and her girls were of a different caliber. Lottie had risen from work on the streets into a high class bordello, then eventually her own business.

  Even in her mid-fifties, Lottie’s skin was free from deep wrinkles; her pale complexion due to her night life, and heritage. Her only quirk that even hinted at gaudiness came from her ever present false lashes. Tonight she’d dressed in a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. She looked nothing like the Madame of a Vegas brothel. Especially as she daydreamed about her future great-nieces and nephews.

  Maureen snapped her fingers to get Lottie’s attention. “Before I get pregnant, I have to get laid. Now, are you ready for dinner?”

  Chapter Three

  Nicholas took a deep breath of fresh air before taking a seat at the table nestled in the corner of his outdoor terrace. On cue, his buttered bagel appeared before him.

  “Coffee this morning, sir?”

  “No, thanks Carl. Just some juice.” Nick slipped on his sunglasses to cut the glare from his white adobe home. Vegas summers were lethal. The best time to enjoy the cle
ar skies was in the early morning such as this. His newspaper had been laid out on the table in front of the empty chair to his right. His eyes lingered on that chair for only a moment.

  It was getting easier. When Diana first passed away almost two years ago, he would find himself staring at that chair until his eyes dried out. He’d never forget her. He’d always love her. Finally though, he made it through a day without feeling like her loss would kill him as well.

  It was this house. Diana wanted this house.

  He glanced around the terrace, as if seeing it for the first time. The entire living space was built for entertainment. Spacious rooms, clean lines. It had an impersonal feel. Diana had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and couldn’t stomach the thought of a white picket fenced suburban home. Glamour, prestige and excess. It didn’t bother him, he was raised in a similar fashion, but he could easily find something else. Something smaller. What did he need all this space for anyway? It’s just more for his staff to take care of.

  What the hell did he need a staff for anyway?

  He laughed self-derisively. Because he enjoyed having attendants. He was used to it. No matter where he lived, he’d be sure to have at least one in his employ. There was no way in hell he’d eat his own cooking night after night.

  As if proving his indispensability, Carl had arranged the paper in the order in which Nicholas preferred: business section first. He scanned the headlines, then read an article about the new business park under construction near the Stewart Reservoir.

  When he flipped the last page of the regional news section, Nick Webster froze.

  The last section of the paper—the personals—he usually folded away without a glance. Today was different. The front page showed a picture of a young woman from the back, her head turned to the side. She wore a form-fitting black dress, cut away to bare the smooth expanse of her back, and hinting at the cleavage of her ass. The photo only showed the woman’s face in profile, but it didn’t diminish her beauty.