by E M Bannock
Could she live with it? She reviewed the facts in her head. Mickey was gone forever. She had no intention of trying to find a new love interest, but she sure as hell wasn’t ready to give up sex. This was a different kind of sex, a new perspective, yet it was totally satisfying in a strange sort of way. Isn’t that what she moved to Nevada for, a new life? Hell, yes. She could get into it. No emotional bond. She could never love another man like she’d loved Mickey. There could never be another man like him and now there didn’t have to be. She didn’t need anyone but herself. It was a new beginning and she was starting to like it.
And it wasn’t like James was a stranger. They were friends. She had to admit that he was extremely good-looking. She liked him a lot. She was comfortable with him. But did she love him? No. It wasn’t love. She was positive she didn’t love him. But she strongly liked him in a sexual way, especially now. “Friends, as it were, with benefits,” she thought out loud, laughing.
After her logical analysis of the morality as it relates to non-emotional sex, she decided to delve into the mechanics of the evening’s activity. James was definitely proficient on the female body. She would have to rank him right up there at expert level. He knew where and how to touch every sensitive spot on her. Waves of excited sensation rippled down her spine at the thought of the explosive orgasm she’d had that night. Did he learn that from the prostitutes he’d been sleeping with? She’d have to ask. Too bad all men didn’t fuck like that. It was a pity that more women couldn’t experience that kind of sex. If James wanted to be a male prostitute, the women would be lined up for miles for a piece of his action.
Her mind flashed to Mickey and the hookers that he procured for his clients. Then she thought of all the stories of horny old women that Fen told her about. Could this be the same thing? Kinda, sorta? Maybe? All this moralizing was making her brain hurt. Then an idea hit her like a bolt of lightning. Why not open up a male brothel? She knew that Heidi Fleiss had tried it and failed, but she’d had it wrong. She came from the wrong angle. It had to be a classy place, clean and crisp. Make it look like a spa; sex would be only one of the services offered. And she knew the team she needed to assemble to help her to turn this dream into a reality.
She wanted to cater to rich clientele, so she would need Fen’s vast social network to solicit potential clients. That lady knew every rich old woman from coast to coast and which ones were in need of a good fucking.
Hire only young, handsome men. She would have James teach them everything he knows about how to please a woman. He could also help out with his business management knowledge. She’d give him a unique business to run, all right. All those educational dollars would be put to good use.
Her brothel would be upscale. She would offer massages, hot wraps, yoga, health foods, and all the things the expensive spas offer. But there would be a menu of sexual delights the ladies could choose from as well. And the kicker? Each sex room would be themed, just like the scenarios she and Mickey used.
But who could she get to run the day to day office paperwork? She didn’t know if she wanted to handle all of that. James would be far too busy managing the prostitutes to take reservations and office bookkeeping. She needed an office manager. It had to be someone she trusted completely, someone who was competent. The answer came quickly. Who better suited for this position but Annette? It would be good to work with her again.
What a great idea! Now she just had to sell all three of her friends on the plan. She was excited, but she was also exhausted; better to start fresh in the morning. An involuntary twinge brought her legs together. She felt soreness in her lady parts that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Her hand instinctively reached down to her crotch. She was still moist, and smiled as she relived some of the pleasurable moments of the evening. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep, restful, satisfying sleep.
The next day she put together a business plan, intending to run it past James as soon as she could. If she could sell him on the idea, she was sure she could get the ladies on board. Now that James was finished with school, he had more free time. He agreed to meet at her house for a drink the following afternoon.
James settled down in the large overstuffed recliner with a glass of Scotch on the rocks. Zoey sat across from him with a glass of wine.
“So,” he said after pleasantries, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your company and this fine Scotch?”
“We’ll get to that soon enough,” she replied. “First, I’ve got to know. Where did you learn to fuck like that?”
He laughed as he took a sip from his glass. “Well, Mandy was a wealth of information.”
“I gathered that,” she said, “but you were too young, and she couldn’t possibly have enough time to teach you everything. I was extremely impressed with your performance last night, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He blushed. “Much obliged, ma’am,” he said in a mock western tone as he tipped an invisible hat. “Did you forget that I said I’ve only had sex with hookers?
“I spent a lot of time in one particular house; was a regular for a while, got to know the girls personally. Wasn’t long before they were showing me what felt good to them and what they were looking for in sex. They were more than willing to let me practice on them. They said it was a nice change to be on the other end and have someone servicing them. It was kind of a quid pro quo.”
“I’ll bet,” she said, feeling slightly jealous. “Well, they taught you well, sir.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Is that what you called me over her for, or were you looking to book another session?”
She smiled. “Definitely, but not right now.” She hesitated for a moment then sat upright in her chair, gave him a serious look, and said, “Did you find a job yet?”
He frowned. “Of course not,” he said with a puzzled look. “You know that.”
“How would you like to be partner, staff manager, and trainer at an exclusive, high-priced brothel/spa for rich old women?”
He laughed out loud. “Sounds exciting.” He relaxed into his chair. “Do you know where such an establishment exists?”
“It doesn’t yet,” she replied with excitement. “I’m going to start it. You want in?”
His facial expression went from humorous to dead serious as he mulled the idea over in his head. “Could work, I suppose. Where would the clientele come from?”
Her face glowed with excitement. “I know a lady who knows every horny rich woman in the country, hell, probably in the world. She hasn’t agreed yet. She doesn’t even know about it. You’re the first person I’ve told. But I know she’ll do it.
“And I’ve got an office manager in mind, too.” She was bouncing in her seat. “Oh, James, I really think it would be a success. And no one knows more than I that there’s a need. Tell me you’re in. We could do it. I know we could.”
She could see the wheels turning in his head as he slowly sipped the Scotch. “Would I have to come up with any of the money? You know I’m dirt poor.”
“No,” she answered. “Your skill is your gold. We’ll work out the details later.” She put on her best how-can-you-say-no-to-me face in hopes it would have the same effect on James that it had always had on Mickey.
It did. James looked at her and smiled as he put his drink down. “I may be crazy,” he said, “but damn it, I think it might work. I’m in.”
She jumped up and into his lap, hugging him tightly. “Thank you. You won’t be sorry. I really believe in this.”
He emptied his glass and looked at her. “Should we fuck to seal the deal?”
It took her by surprise but in a good way. Without hesitation she said, “Why the hell not?” She grabbed his hand and they headed to the bedroom for another satisfying romp; two in less than one week. Zoey was feeling almost normal again.
The next morning as she sipped her herbal tea, she was contemplating the incredible sex sessions she and James had and the fantastic future she pictured for both of them
. One down and two to go. She was excited for the first time in a very long while.
Who should she call next, Annette or Fen? She really didn’t think she’d have trouble convincing Annette to get on board. She’d better call Fen. Face it, without clientele you had nothing no matter how efficient your office was or how skilled the men were.
Would Fen go for it? Had she had enough time to mourn Allen? It had been almost three years. The deep, searing pain of separation would never go away, she knew that. But she had come to realize that Mickey was NEVER coming back. He wouldn’t want her life to stop just because his did. Regular phone calls with Fen had brought the two women closer.
After their lunch in Detroit they committed to stay in touch. At first the calls were infrequent. Back when the pain was so raw that just thinking about talking to Fen brought up visions of Mickey dying and she would be enveloped in such distress that she couldn’t go through with the call. She could tell that Fen felt the same way. In the beginning their conversations were polite but short. They usually ended with both women in tears. But as time went on, they became comfortable in the sorrow that they shared. It was like a weird kind of sisterhood. They had always been kindred spirits, but now the bond had become tighter with the great grief that they both felt but seldom talked about anymore.
Eventually their conversations had become longer and the range of things they talked about grew. She felt confident that Fen shared most of her philosophical if not political views. She knew that Fen was no prude, but would she go so far as to be a part of prostitution? Yes, that’s what it was when you come right down to it. Some people thought it was wrong, a sin against God.
The thought toyed with her conscience for a moment. God. Who is God? What is God? Does anyone even know for sure? If we are all God’s children, doesn’t God, our Father, want us, his children, to be happy? Happiness has a different definition for different people. Her logical and educated mind deduced that there was at least a 50/50 chance that her interpretation of what God is was correct.
Now, could she get Fen to see the logic of it? There was only one way to find out. She took a healthy swig of the red wine she had poured for herself and dialed Fen’s number.
“Hello?” a familiar voice answered. She sounded relaxed. This was good.
“Fen, its Zoey. How are you?”
“Oh, Zoey, I can’t believe it’s you. I was just thinking about you the other day. Something happened that made me think of you.”
“Really?” Zoey was intrigued. “What was it?”
“I was at a fundraiser and had a rather unpleasant experience with Dorothy Lucas. Remember her? Old, wrinkled, rich widow with a big hairy wart on the side of her chin?”
Zoey thought a moment and laughed. “I remember her. Has the worst taste in clothes; always clashing in style and color. And not the sharpest pencil in the box as I recall. Crotchety old bag, too, isn’t she?”
“That’s her,” Fen broke in. “We always said she had to have been good in bed to have landed a rich husband because she couldn’t have done it with her looks, brains, or charm.”
“Do tell, girl. Whatever did you do?” Zoey asked with anticipation.
“Well,” Fen explained. “I was trying to explain why it was important to protect the animals in Africa from poachers to her and a group of other women and she kept asking the most asinine questions, just to annoy me I think. At least it felt like that. I really wasn’t having such a good day. I had a headache brewing and was in no mood for her kind of ignorance. I can’t even remember what it was that made me snap but it ended with me telling her she needed to lighten up, find a man, and get laid. I told her it would do wonders for her.”
Zoey was shocked. “You didn’t!”
“I did,” she said proudly. “And you know what? It made me think of you. I felt like I was channeling you; speaking my mind, being free, and it felt good.”
Zoey felt proud. “Thanks, I think.”
“Oh, it’s all good,” Fen replied. “I was going to call you today and tell you about it. That’s why it’s so weird that you called me. So, what’s up?”
“Funny you should mention old women getting laid,” she said. “That’s kind of what this is about.”
Zoey told her about her experience with James and her idea for the brothel. At first Fen didn’t sound interested. But the more Zoey told her about how it felt to have James touch all the private pleasure places that had been neglected since Mickey died, and how liberating it felt to enjoy sex for the sake of sex itself, free of guilt, she began to come around. Zoey told her that with her list of women who probably would benefit greatly from a good bedding by a professional skilled in the art of pleasuring a woman, they would be doing womankind a favor. Not to mention make a few dollars on the side, not that either of them needed money. Each widow had received a $5,000,000 settlement from Taylor Resource Development six months after the construction crane accident that killed their husbands. It meant financial independence for Zoey, but Fen came from money and the settlement really had no financial impact for her.
“I’ve got more money than I could ever spend,” Fen had proclaimed.
“Me, too,” said Zoey. “But what good is the money if we don’t do something with it? We owe it to the women of the world, at least the ones who can afford us.”
Fen laughed. “Oh, what the hell. What have I got to lose? I’m in.”
“Wonderful!” Zoey exclaimed. “Welcome, partner.”
Two down, one to go.
She thought the call to Annette would be a piece of cake. Zoey hadn’t called or heard from her former office manager for several months. They had tried to keep in touch after Zoey moved to Incline Village, but Annette had met someone shortly after and gradually the calls became less frequent. She had met her lover on the job at the plumbing supply business she was now working for. Connie was a plumber. Annette seemed smitten for the first time since Zoey had known her. She hoped that it would all work out for her. If anyone deserved a little happiness, it was Annette. She was about the best office manager around; competent, alert, always on top of what going on and how to fix it if it wasn’t. She was kind-hearted and sensitive, even though a little too naïve. She had been a good friend and employee, and Zoey felt a little guilty that she had allowed the closeness between them to widen.
A sense of guilt swept over her. She remembered the last conversation she had with Annette. She and Connie had hit a rough patch, but Annette said that they were going to see a couples counselor. She was hopeful the relationship could be saved. Zoey hadn’t spoken to her since. She should have called just to see if the therapy was successful. Inwardly she hoped it hadn’t.
She looked up Annette’s phone number in her contact list and made the call.
“Hello?” the woman who answered didn’t sound like the optimistic, self-confident person Zoey had once known. She also sounded tired and congested, like she had a cold.
“Annette, is that you?” Zoey asked.
“Yeah, who is this?”
“It’s Zoey,” she replied with concern. “Are you all right? Are you sick?”
There was a pause. “Zoey,” she cleared her throat. “I’m fine. You caught me napping,” she explained.
“Annette, it’s me. I know you,” Zoey said with even more concern. “You don’t take naps. What’s going on? You don’t sound right. You sound all stuffed up. Have you been crying?”
It took a few minutes to get it out of her, but finally Annette broke down and told her about the break-up. Connie had left her for a younger woman just a few days before. Annette was devastated.
“I thought I had finally met my soul mate, Zoey,” Annette cried into the phone. “We did everything together. The sex was phenomenal and she cooked! I was in heaven. I thought she was just as happy as I was. She even told me she loved me.” At this point she started sobbing uncontrollably. “And now she’s telling me that she just wanted me for my money.” Zoey had given her a very generous severance package
. “And now that my money is gone, she, she, she left me.” Annette broke down again.
“Annette, sweetie,” Zoey consoled. “If she just wanted you for what you could buy her, she wasn’t worth it. How dare she break your heart. You are a beautiful, caring woman. Your soul mate is still out there somewhere.”
After a while Zoey was able to get Annette to see that her life wasn’t over. She was just going through a bad time.
“Zoey,” Annette said. “I miss you. You can always make me see the other side of the situation. That’s why you were such a good lawyer.”
“Thanks,” Zoey said meekly. “So, you say your money ran out?” Zoey was thinking this could work to her advantage.
“Yes,” Annette said apologetically. “I’m sorry, Zoey. You were very generous and I was foolish to spend it on Connie. It’s just that, well, let’s just say she was very needy and I—” She paused. “She said she loved me. No one had ever said that to me before.”
“Annette,” Zoey broke in, “you don’t owe me any explanations. That money was yours to do with as you wished. I’m not judging. And even if I did, there’s no blame on your part. That Connie is a bitch and doesn’t deserve you.”
Annette laughed. “I miss you, boss.”
“Good.” Zoey pounced. “How’d you like to come and work for me again?”
This interested and surprised Annette. “Are you practicing law again?”
“No,” she said carefully, and with some hesitation. “Something better and completely different this time, but I think you’ll fit in just fine. Interested?”
After she gave Annette her fifteen-minute sales pitch Annette was hooked. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Annette was ready and willing to put as many miles as she could between her and Connie the Freeloader.
