by E M Bannock
The prostitutes would work a four-day week and had to be on call and available 24 hours on those days, depending on the whim of the clients. After all, they wouldn’t be fucking all day, only when a client requested sex. Most of the sessions were scheduled in advance due to set-up time and scheduling of the men, but Zoey knew that it would be good business if they were flexible and she gave the men the option to work more days than the required four. It would be an opportunity for the guys to earn extra money, kind of like hooker overtime. She also tried to accommodate the college students so that their shift didn’t interfere with their class schedules.
The kitchen and housekeeping staff consisted mostly of all local townspeople and most didn’t require housing. There were some who came in from out of the area and required company apartments.
A landscaping company, Diego’s Desert Landscapes, had been commissioned to revamp and replant all of the current landscaping, making the place look like an oasis. There were two wells on the property that supplied an abundance of water to the newly installed sprinkler system. Diego’s was also contracted to provide maintenance for the property greenery.
A remote-controlled gate was installed at the property entrance. The newly paved driveway ended in a circle at the covered lobby entrance, highlighted with a fountain at its center. A Greek Adonis-like statue, naked with an exposed penis, stood central, pouring water from a pitcher suggestively held out in front of himself. The pool maintenance company contracted to keep the pool and hot tub sparkling clear also maintained the fountain.
It was decided that James and Annette would live on the premises full time. Zoey and Fen had their own rooms, but didn’t consider it their home. Zoey wanted to keep her Incline Village home. For the time being, Fen also kept the mansion in The Hamptons and the Manhattan apartment. She flew back east for a few days every other week. It was mostly to see family. She told Zoey she would probably let the Hampton home go if the brothel made good. She liked Nevada, and her suite at the brothel was actually quite comfortable.
Annette concentrated on the day to day office management and paperwork end of the business, including all the licensing rigmarole. She shuttled Zoey to meetings and helped her with the extensive background checks required and the piles of paperwork. Their combined legal backgrounds were a definite asset to the proceedings. This was a concept never before put in action, so they were reluctantly granted some wiggle room by the county authorities.
There were delays, setbacks, frustrations, extra expenses, and many extremely exhausting days. It seemed like Zoey’s Place would never become a reality, but eventually the persistent group of now very close friends completed their assigned tasks. Finally, the construction and conversion were concluded.
Chapter 21
October 1st, opening day for Zoey’s Place, arrived. The morning was a busy blur of bodies putting the final touches on the guest rooms and common areas. Zoey was busy organizing the fresh flower arrangement by the lobby door when she felt James’ arms encircle her waist. He kissed her neck and whispered, “You ready for this, madam?”
Zoey groaned without thought. She was confident that the business would be a success but she was still very anxious about being the ‘Madam’ of a brothel. “I guess so,” she muttered. She turned to face him, put her arms around his waist, and looked up into the deep pools of his azure-blue eyes. She felt a twinge of warmth and weakness but disregarded it. “By the end of the night I’ll know whether to thank you or hate you.”
He looked surprised. “What does that mean?” he asked as he indignantly stood upright.
“You put the seed in my head that night that you fucked my brains out and proved that it could be done without love. I wanted to spread the feeling with all of womankind,” she said with mock superiority. She looked at him and shook her head. “But now I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a pimp.”
James laughed and pulled her tight to him. “It’s a great idea. And we’ve got the dream team to pull it off,” he reassured her. He bent down to whisper in her ear. She could smell his cologne, woodsy and fresh. It didn’t smell like the aftershave that Mickey wore but had the same intoxicating effect on her. “Tell you what,” he said. “After we get everyone settled in for the night, how about if I join you in your room for a little private celebration?”
She knew what that meant; they would be having sex. The thought sent pleasant shivers up her spine. She had to admit, now that she had sampled many different sexual styles and techniques, next to Mickey James was the best. They fit together like peas in a pod. She could relax and know that he needed no instruction. He knew every inch of her body, especially the extra receptive spots, the places that could get her breathing heavy and give her shuddering orgasms.
In the months since that first encounter, she learned what to do to satisfy him as well. Their sex was sometimes playful, intimate, and always gratifying. Something Zoey thought she would never have again. Because of their beach walks they had formed a sort of emotional bond even before the brothel project was conceived, but working in such close proximity to each other day after day had only strengthened their close personal ties. They knew the connection existed and sometimes acted on it, but only in a playful or sexual way. The subject of love was never brought up. Zoey wasn’t ready and James, never having been in love, was able to function without it. Or so it had been until lately.
She noticed that in the last few months he had become more attentive to her. He would stand just a little bit closer to her than he used to, and it had become his habit to kiss the back of her neck. He knew this really turned her on sexually and she would always moan involuntarily, to her embarrassment and his delight. Whenever he was near her, he would put his arm around her protectively. He began to hold her hand when they crossed the street. The sex was more frequent, too. They had gone from once or twice a month to once or twice a week. The tone of the sex had also changed and had turned almost romantic. Most of the time James spent the night, insisting that they cuddle and spoon together. Not that she minded. She missed that. He was doing all the things that someone would do if they were in love, which of course they weren’t. She shook her head. He couldn’t be falling in love with her. She wasn’t falling in love with him either. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t.
But James had started thinking about her in a different way. It began when she and Fen started having sex with the trainees. Twinges of jealousy tortured his thoughts on the nights the sex took place. He would lie in his bed in anguish, knowing that Zoey was letting a stranger into her most private parts. It bothered him that someone else was touching her velvety skin, kissing her soft lips, smelling her intoxicating fragrance and, worst of all, sticking his dick in her lovely, sweet pussy. James could barely stand to listen to her evaluation of the sexual performance at the staff meeting. He tried to ignore the situation. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling, one that he didn’t particularly like.
This morning as he was walking to the kitchen, he saw Zoey fussing over the flower arrangement. She looked particularly beautiful. Her hair was hanging loose about her bare shoulders. The floral sundress she wore was close-fitting and accentuated the curve of her breasts that rose and fell as she breathed. The sun was shining through the window on her and gave her an angelic glow as it glistened off of her shiny hair. He felt a sense of pride knowing that he could be with her any time he wanted. He wanted her right now in the worst way. Why? What was happening to him?
Until now he had forced himself to believe that his feelings for her were on a professional level. She was his business partner, and yes, someone he really enjoyed having sex with, but there was no love. Or was there? What was love anyway? How would he know if it was? He cared for her, that’s true. But they were friends and friends cared for each other, didn’t they? But did friends feel so emotionally attached to each other that they wanted to be together twenty-four hours a day? It had only been three years since they met, yet now he couldn’t imagine his life without her. She was
kind and caring, smart and beautiful. In the morning after her shower she smelled like fresh flowers, and she had the most perfect body, even at her age. He closed his eyes and imagined lying naked with her. His cock began to harden and rub up against his jeans.
“Oh, fuck,” he said to himself. “I think I love her.” He felt uneasy at the feeling and wondered what she would do if he admitted it to her. She had never even hinted that she wanted a new love situation. They liked each other. That was certain. They knew how to please each other sexually. That was a definite plus. But love? No. It wasn’t the right time; not for him, not for Zoey. He had to control his emotions. He had been burned once before. He hadn’t thought about it for a long time and he didn’t want to think about it now, and he sure as fuck didn’t want that to happen again.
That afternoon, around three, James left for the Reno airport to pick up the first three guests. The airport was about an hour away and Zoey was expecting them to arrive back at the brothel around five, just in time for dinner.
The guest list was impressive. First was Mrs. Eileen Douglas from Pennsylvania: age 70, wealthy, widowed for ten years, and horny as hell according to Fen. She had reserved the football player experience. That meant Trent would be servicing her. He was a big hunk of a young man who had actually played football in high school and college. He had a youthful face with dreamy blue eyes and full lips. He was well built and filled out his football jersey perfectly. He looked too big to be gentle but his audition with Fen had gone very well. She said he had all the right plays to score big with the clients.
Next was Mrs. Claire Alexander, age 68, from New York City. She’d been widowed for only one year but hadn’t been fucked in ten. That’s what she’d told Fen. She, in reality, rejoiced when her husband died of lung cancer. She reserved the Scottish highlander experience. Ian had been assigned to her. He was of Scottish heritage and could speak with a Scottish burr, and even had his own kilt. Zoey had sampled his skills and had found him quite gratifying.
The third and last client was Mrs. Tiffany Tilton of South Hampton, New York. She was only 60 and still married, but in a very unhappy marriage. Her husband was hardly ever home and had been caught in several affairs. Mrs. Tilton didn’t mind because she knew that they would never last. She claimed that her husband had a penis the size of a cocktail wiener and didn’t know the first thing about how to use it. She requested the weight lifter experience and specifically requested a large penis.
That job had been assigned to Max, or Cly Max as he preferred to be called. Some of the men had given themselves nicknames. Max’s former job was as a dancer at a strip club. He was dark-haired and tan, with hazel eyes. He stood about 6’ 3” and every muscle on his body was rock-hard and bulging. His dick was so big that both Fen and Zoey had to try him out. They both agreed that bigger was very fullfilling.
The cabanas had been decked out to match the theme of the men. Mrs. Trousdale would be escorted by Trent, dressed in his football uniform, to a cabana decked out in football memorabilia, football trophies, team pennants, pom-poms, and a green bed cover that resembled a football gridiron.
The highlander cabana, where Ian would take Mrs. Alexander, was rustic with a large, dark wooden bed covered with a red plaid quilt, occupying the center of the equally red-plaid-accented room. A large highlander sword and the Scottish flag hung on the walls. Bagpipe music filtered in gently from the sound system. Ian would be dressed in full highlander regalia.
The muscle builder cabana, which also doubled as the S&M room, looked like a gym with a bench and weights. All the other furnishings were leather-upholstered. High intensity motivational music added to the heat of sexual passion waiting to be explored. A red light gave it an erotic glow. Max would be wearing a black tank top, a pair of very tight black gym shorts, and fingerless black leather gloves. His body would be glistening with oil.
All of the cabanas were equipped with an assortment of sex toys laid out in plain sight for quick access. They could be expertly used by any of the men. But with the sexual skills they had acquired from James, the toys would probably be more decorative than functional.
It was almost five now. Zoey was nervous. She stopped in the main house to make sure all was ready. Taste-tempting odors wafted from the dining room into the lobby. When the guests arrived they would be hungry from their travels. She thought the dining room would be a good place to loosen up the ladies before the evening’s sexual adventures. Trent, Ian, and Max would serve the ladies dessert before accompanying them to their individually chosen fantasy cabana.
Zoey walked out of the dining room and into the entryway. She was just in time to see the gate open and James make the turn into the driveway by the discrete Zoey’s Place, Spa/Brothel sign above the entry gate. She watched as he pulled the champagne-colored Suburban to the front portico and stop.
“It’s go-time,” Zoey said quietly to herself as she approached the door. Suddenly it opened and three elderly but elegant ladies, bedazzled in silk and jewels, crossed the threshold and stood in the entrance hall, looking around in astonishment at the plush surroundings.
“Welcome to Zoey’s Place, ladies,” she greeted. All three women brought their attention to Zoey and smiled with approval. “My name is Zoey and I’m honored to be your hostess during your stay.
“My staff will show you to your rooms, where you can unpack and change into something casual. We have a delicious dinner prepared for you. It will be served at 6:00 in the dining room, which is to your right. This will be followed by an even better, made-to-order dessert.” She paused for dramatic effect. The ladies looked at each other and smiled knowingly. She continued her welcome. “Feel free to let the staff know if you desire anything else. If you enjoy your stay, please pass it on. Bon appétit, mes chéris.” And with that three handsome young porters appeared, picked up the ladies’ luggage, and escorted the guests to their rooms.
Chapter 22
Fen and Zoey were standing at the entrance to the dining room to greet the ladies as they came down for dinner. They engaged in casual conversation with them as the drinks and appetizers were served by shirtless, bow-tied men. The women seemed relaxed by the time the salad was served, and Fen and Zoey saw this as their cue to depart. They left the women alone to enjoy their dinner and the evening’s entertainment. After a quick stop in the kitchen they retreated to their own rooms with a plated dinner in hand.
After she ate, Zoey undressed and slipped into a lacy black nightgown in anticipation of James’ visit. She knew he would wait until after his men were hard at work. The pun was intentional. This meant she had time for a well-deserved drink to help her relax. It had been a stressful day and she was looking forward to unwinding with her lothario. She poured herself a shot of Crown Royal and downed it fast. A smooth, pleasurable burn coated her throat as she swallowed. She half expected to see fumes when she exhaled. She poured another, added ice, and sipped.
Soon after, she peeked through her bedroom window as the first three guests of Zoey’s Place were escorted to the fantasy cabanas. The men looked magnificent in their role-playing costumes. She knew the ladies would be in for a night to remember.
A knock at her door brought her attention back. James entered and closed the door behind him. He was barefoot and wearing nothing but a pair of well-worn faded jeans. They reminded her of the jeans Mickey used to wear. She was feeling glad and sad at the same time. James could see the mix of emotions on her face.
“What’s wrong, Zee?” he asked, a tone of concern in his voice. ‘Zee’ had become his pet name for her. It was one of the intimacies they shared. Only he called her that, and it endeared him to her when he used it, making her feel special.
“It’s nothing,” she said unconvincingly. “You just reminded me of something.”
“Something about Mickey?” He knew her so well.
“Yeah, he had a pair of faded, ripped jeans like those.”
They rarely talked about Mickey anymore. She told James all about her s
torybook life with him during their lakeshore walks. He knew about the fantastic sexual closeness they had, their role playing, their fantasies, their willingness to try anything, and the trust they had in each other. She’d shed many tears reliving the romance and joy of the life she had lived with her husband. She also shared the feelings of loneliness and separation she felt towards the end when Mickey was away for so long, and the never-ending sorrow she now felt by his eternal absence.
James knew that Mickey brushed it off when Zoey spoke to him about the dream she had of the tragedy shortly before it happened, and how it felt when she got that life-changing call that took the love of her life away from her forever.
He knew he couldn’t replace Mickey, but he tried to ease Zoey’s pain. He was attracted to her from the first time he saw her but never thought of a long term romantic relationship with her, or any woman for that matter. It just wasn’t part of the plan.
But even before they’d had sex, he knew that their relationship was special. She was different. He felt possessive of her, and that scared him because the last time he felt like this he got his heart ripped out. He never told Zoey how he felt about her. He denied it himself at first. Working with her every day and being close to her only made it worse. This morning he had to admit to himself that he loved her and he wanted to tell her. He just didn’t know how or when the right time would be. One thing was for sure, with everything going on it wasn’t now.
James walked up to her and held her in his arms. She collapsed in his embrace.
“Sorry,” he said softly, apologizing. “I didn’t know. I’ve had these forever but I guess I never wore them in front of you before. We’ve been so busy getting ready for the opening that I didn’t have a chance to do laundry and all my other jeans are dirty.”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I’m all right. It just took me by surprise.”
