by Michael West
Does she want to leave me for someone else?
Brooke read aloud from her directions, the stud that skewered her tongue glinting like a diamond as she spoke, “Turn left onto Cottontail Drive. Point one miles. End at the Bunny Hop Ranch.”
He peered into the darkness at the edge of his headlights. “I don’t suppose we’d be lucky enough to get a sign.”
As if on cue, a flashing red speck illuminated the gloom ahead, growing larger and brighter as they approached until it became a blazing neon arrow, pointing them toward a dirt road. Beneath this arrow, a wooden billboard featured an airbrushed female rabbit in black lingerie. With its long eyelashes and glossy red lips, the drawing reminded Jeff of those old Warner Brothers cartoons where Bugs Bunny dressed in drag, but this particular bunny had size double-D breasts. The cartoon sat atop a Bunny Hop Ranch logo, kicking up its black stiletto heels. Off to the side, a tagline read: “Heaven is just a jump away.”
Brooke giggled. “How’s that for a sign?”
A turn of the wheel took them onto the side road, the glow of the neon arrow transforming the sands into a Martian landscape.
“They’ve made the whole desert a red-light district,” Jeff said with a laugh, keeping his eyes forward. It was hard to tell where the road stopped and the desert began.
“I think they use red because it’s the color of the heart.” Her voice was breathy, the way she talked when she was touching herself, trying to get him in the mood. “Red is the color of passion.”
He was about to look over at her, to see if she had her hands in her shorts, but then he saw the house.
Roman columns lined a long, plantation-style porch. Wings branched off from either side of the main house like open arms, each covered in windows, making it appear as if there were a hundred rooms within. White-painted walls were bathed in the glow of spotlights, granting it the appearance of a country inn or house of worship, not a den of sin.
“Wow,” he said. “Check this place out.”
Brooke reached across the seat for his hand. “Do I have good taste, or what?”
Jeff gave her fingers a light squeeze, his heart beating quicker within his chest. This was it. They were actually going to do this.
Half a dozen cars and trucks sat parked in the sand beside the house. He steered the Durango over to join them, then turned to his wife, taking in her beauty.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Oh yeah.” She leaned forward, kissing him softly. “You’re going to enjoy it, aren’t you?”
“I enjoy anything that makes you happy, Brooke,” he told her.
“I want to make you happy too.” She smiled lovingly, kissing him again even as her hand went to the door.
They started toward the entrance, walking hand-in-hand. Jeff’s eyes ran from window to window. Some were dark, others lit, but all had thick, drawn drapes that barred any glimpse of the interior.
“You know,” Brooke said, “when I was in college, I thought about working in a brothel.”
He tried to sound shocked, “Really?”
“Sure,” she confirmed. “I mean, here I was, the only state where it’s actually legal to have sex all day long and get paid for it. Talk about your dream job.”
The joy in her voice made his stomach sink. “Why didn’t you?”
“I fell in love,” she told him, then laid her head on his shoulder as they walked. “And I knew I wanted to be with you forever.”
Jeff wished he could believe her.
***
A beautiful Asian girl sat behind a desk in the foyer, her nose in a book titled Chocolate Park. Jeff had a thing for Asian girls. His eyes traveled over her flaxen skin and down the inky tresses that pooled on her shoulders. For a moment, he considered asking her if she was available for their party, but he quickly thought better of it. She could’ve been hired solely to answer phones and greet guests, and insinuating that she was a whore might just get him smacked. Besides, Brooke had her heart set on this Xilomen.
You’re here for her, remember, not you. For her.
“Excuse me,” he said.
The Asian girl stopped reading and smiled. “Welcome to The Ranch. I’m Tanya. How can I help you?”
“We booked a ‘couple’s party.’”
“Very nice.” Tanya set her book aside, turning her attention to a large day planner that lay open on the desk. “Name?”
“Kendall.”
“You booked Xilomen.” A knowing grin bloomed on her lips. She picked up a phone; put it to her ear. “I’ll call her down for you.”
On the wall behind the desk hung a large sign with the heading “Sexual Menu.” Below the title, various sex acts and services were described in great detail, as if each was a meal to be savored in some fancy restaurant. And just like a fine bill of fare, there were no prices.
“Do you know how much this party will cost?” Jeff asked.
Tanya put her hand over the receiver. “Sorry. All the girls are independent contractors. You’ll have to negotiate that with—” She uncovered the phone, said, “The Kendalls are here for you,” then hung up and looked at him. “She’ll be right down. Is this your first time to party with us?”
He snickered. “That obvious, huh?”
“Don’t worry,” the receptionist assured them as she sat back and reached for her book. “Xilo’s the best. She’ll take good care of you.”
“Now you’ve done it, Tanya,” a voice called out, turning Jeff’s head.
A tall, bronze-skinned woman descended a spiral staircase, joining them on floor of the tiled lobby. Dark brown locks cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, ending at the slender waist of a tight, black dress that showcased her figure. It was a body that promised a night he would never forget.
“You’ve built up their expectations,” she said with a hint of accent. “Now they can’t help but be disappointed with me.”
Brooke looked at Jeff and laughed. “Judging by the way my husband’s mouth is hanging open, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
He noticed an odd tone to his wife’s voice, almost like jealousy, but her grin said otherwise.
Their date’s smile widened, her dazzling teeth sparkling like pearls between the rose petals of her lips. She slinked over, her long, slender legs ending in black stilettos. “I’m Xilomen, but please, call me Xilo—like J-Lo, but with a Z.”
When she slipped her arm in his and escorted them down a hall, Jeff heard chains rattle and slap against wood. His eyes rose to the ceiling. “What was that?”
“One of the girls is entertaining upstairs,” Xilo told them matter-of-factly. “Some of our clients enjoy a little bondage.”
“Jeff likes it when I tie him up,” Brooke announced.
“Reeeally?” Xilo flashed a demure grin. “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
He glanced back at his wife, shocked that she would share such an intimate detail, but then he thought, Relax, you’re both gonna fuck this girl in a minute.
Xilomen opened a door to her left and motioned for them to enter.
According to their website, the ranch had various party suites, each decorated according to its own theme. Jeff had liked the marble columns and statuary of Roman Holiday, but Brooke wanted to party in Paradise Cove.
“It reminds me of our honeymoon in Cancun,” she’d told him.
This room, however, was no larger than a walk-in closet. Red drapes hung from floor to ceiling on all four walls, and a tiny security camera was mounted near the ceiling in the corner. Xilo closed the door behind them and stood with her back to the lens.
“I hate talking money,” she said. “I much prefer pleasure, which is why we get all that pesky business stuff out of the way up front, so we can move on to...” Her gaze lowered to the crotch of Jeff’s jeans. “...bigger and better things.”
Brooke smiled at her husband. “And believe me, you won’t be disappointed there.”
Jeff chuckled; glad to he
ar Brooke was happy with his manhood. See, you satisfy her. She’s not going to leave you for this woman or anybody else. Stop your worrying and just enjoy yourself. This is The Fantasy, man!
“So...” Xilo’s eyes rose to meet his. “How much were you thinking of spending with me tonight?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know...the suite, and...everything else. Will five hundred cover it?”
Xilo giggled, then held up her hand and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, I know this is your first time.” She pointed to the video camera behind her. “See, that’s ‘The House.’ They’re watching to see how much our little party is going to make for them. They get half of everything we earn here. So, if I took five hundred from you, I’d only really earn two-fifty.”
Jeff looked into the lens, his stomach fluttering. “You need a thousand?”
She smiled sweetly. “If you triple that, I think we can have a real nice party.”
“Three thousand?” Maybe he’d seen too many movies or Law & Order episodes, where the hookers charged guys twenty bucks for a blow job, but he wasn’t expecting anything close to that amount. “Is that for the whole night?”
“It would be for a few hours. To have me overnight, wow, that would be close to five figures.”
Jeff’s eyes widened and shot to Brooke.
“Relax,” his wife told him, reaching into her purse. “You take Visa and Mastercard, don’t you?”
Xilo nodded. “American Express too.”
Jeff grabbed Brooke’s arm. “Hon, you can’t be serious.”
“Don’t worry.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “My card, my treat.”
***
Paradise Cove featured faux-bamboo walls, an imitation palm-thatched ceiling, and painted windows that opened onto a painted sea. In the corner, silk ferns and palms surrounded a huge, kidney-shaped tub, forming a secluded rainforest grotto.
Jeff took off his watch and shoes. “So how long have you worked here?”
Xilomen chuckled as she drew a bath. “You mean how long have I been a whore?”
His face warmed. “Okay, yeah.”
“A long time.” She kicked off her heels and sat on the edge of the tub, moving her hand through the water to check the temperature, her reflection riding the ripples.
“Well, how long have you been in the U.S.?”
“I’ve been here for many years. The people who took control of my country...” Her face clouded over for a moment. “There was torture, persecution, but my mother saved me and brought me here for a better life.”
Jeff nodded, wondering if selling her body night after night was the “better life” Xilo’s mother had envisioned. He took off his shirt and tossed it onto a wicker chair in the corner, sweat beading on his chest, back, and forehead. It could’ve been nerves, but he thought it was more likely the Viagra. Xilo had offered it to him, and he’d taken it gladly, wanting to make certain they got their money’s worth.
Brooke unbuttoned her blouse. The butterfly etched on her left breast looked as if it were trying to escape the jaws of the winged serpent at her hip.
Xilo saw the markings and smiled. “Cihuacoatl.”
Jeff didn’t speak Spanish. “Excuse me?”
His wife snickered and her hands went to her panty line, stretching her skin to flatten the artwork. “She’s talking about my tattoo. It’s Cihuacoatl, the Aztec serpent goddess, ‘mother of humanity.’”
“That’s right.” Xilo sounded impressed. “But She didn’t create us all at once. Women were formed first. Men came much later, made from tonalli, the blood of the womb.”
Jeff gave his wife’s new body art more scrutiny. She’d never told him the meaning behind it, only that she thought it was cool.
Xilo shut off the faucet, then moved toward Brooke. Minus their heels, they were the same height, no taller than Jeff’s chin. “You know, during certain rituals, the women who worshiped Cihuacoatl would explore each other... sexually.”
She leaned in, hesitated; when she saw that Brooke did not shy away, she kissed her. It began as a gentle peck, then grew in intensity, their tongues probing each other’s mouths with great enthusiasm.
As Jeff sat there, hypnotized by desire, his jeans grew tight. He tugged at the zipper and quickly shed them, liberating his erection.
“Why haven’t I heard about this religion?” Brooke asked, a string of saliva still tethering her lips to Xilo’s. “I would’ve signed up years ago.”
“Spanish Conquistadors found homosexuality evil.” Xilo reached up and undid the clasps of Brooke’s bra, sliding the straps off her shoulders and down her arms. “They took the followers of Cihuacoatl, staked them to the ground, and set them on fire. Later, Jesuits destroyed the Aztec libraries, trying to eradicate any hint that they ever existed. Even today, the government of Peru destroys any pottery it unearths with same-sex images. They say it ‘insults their national honor.’”
Xilo lowered her head to Brooke’s perky, rose-tipped breast, tracing the butterfly marking with her tongue.
“You never see a woman with a caterpillar tattoo,” she said between licks. “Caterpillars are ugly. They do nothing but eat, sleep, and fight with one another. But then the creator steps in, as if to correct a mistake, and they are transformed, they turn into something truly wonderful, and then all women want them.”
Jeff saw Brooke shut her eyes, chewing her lower lip as Xilo’s mouth closed around the firm nub of her nipple. It was the same face she made when he worked on her breasts, and now, to see her get identical satisfaction from the touch of a woman filled him with an odd brew of envy and excitement.
When Brooke opened her eyes again, she looked at him and smiled. “I think my husband needs some attention.”
Xilomen stood and took Brooke by the hand, offering Jeff a lascivious grin. “I know just the thing.”
They walked over to the bedside table. Xilo opened the drawer and took out a handful of scarves. “You take his hands; I’ll do his feet.”
Brooke giggled. She took hold of Jeff’s wrist and wrapped it in sheer fabric.
He frowned and pulled away. “I don’t know if I feel comfortable—”
“Pleeeease,” his wife begged. “Do it for me.”
Give her what she wants, buddy. You don’t want her to leave you.
He reluctantly offered up his hand again.
“Now lay down,” Brooke instructed.
Jeff did as he was told, allowing the women to lash his limbs to the bed frame. Xilo hummed as she tightened the knots, and he lifted his head to look at her. “What’s that?”
“Oh, we were talking about Cihuacoatl, and I remembered a hymn my mother taught me.” She cleared her throat, then sang, “She comes forth, plumed with feathers, painted with blood, She is our mother, a goddess of war, our mother a goddess of war...”
“You’ve got a great voice,” Brooke told her, finishing the last of the knots.
Xilo smiled, then reached up and slid the spaghetti straps from her shoulders, allowing her black dress to fall to the floor. Her naked body surpassed even Jeff’s wildest expectations. She motioned for Brooke to join her at the foot of the bed, and the two women knelt on either side of him, exchanging a playful glance across his erection before bringing it to their soft, full lips.
Jeff relaxed, let his arms and legs hang, let his head fall back against the satin pillow, and concentrated on the feel of warm, wet mouths; the gorgeous friction of their fingers as they massaged his length. Even with his eyes pinched shut he could tell who was who. The metal stud of Brooke’s piercing raked and tickled his most sensitive flesh; the tip of Xilo’s tongue slithered its way up his shaft in a serpentine motion.
And then they stopped.
He opened his eyes and looked down the length of the bed as Xilomen climbed onto him. She positioned herself over his erection, then sank onto his lap. As he slid deep into the moist shadows between her legs, Jeff groaned with pleasure, then realized he wasn’t wearing a
condom.
Before he could say anything, Brooke straddled his face. She grabbed the headboard and pressed herself against his open mouth until her pubic bone flattened his nose. Thick fluid bathed his tongue in a sudden glut. It was warm, salty.
Blood!
It ran down the back of Jeff’s throat, gagging him.
He squirmed, and kicked; his bonds snapped taught and strangled his wrists and ankles, but his wife seemed not to notice. She seized him by the hair and held him down with her weight.
Does she know I can’t breath? his shocked brain wondered. I’m drowning, drowning in blood!
Suddenly, as if she’d heard his thoughts, Brooke released her grip and rolled off this face, scarlet tears staining her milky inner thighs.
She was smiling.
Jeff coughed up rosy spittle. It rained into his eyes and ran from the corners of his mouth as he tried to draw breath. “What the...blood!”
“Tonalli,” Xilo corrected, mounting him as if nothing had happened. She placed her palms on his chest and leaned in, her body moving up and down, her eyes locking with his as she spoke. “It is the ‘animating spirit.’ Without it, everything stops. There can be no joy without blood. No love. No future. No life.”
Brooke gave Xilo a long, passionate kiss, then knelt beside the bed, her fingers combing Jeff’s sweaty hair. “It’s okay, baby,” she told him. “She’ll be here soon. It’s going to be wonderful, you’ll see.”
Jeff stared at his wife, uncomprehending. He pulled on his restraints to no avail, then turned his attention to the woman on his lap. “Get off me, you sick bitch! Let me up!”
“When we’re finished,” Xilomen assured him, moving her hips, making his penetrations deeper and even more silken.
