Jack’s Nevada Bordello Afternoon


Jack had never ‘paid for it’ in his life, but in all likelihood, that would change today, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He drove through the Nevada desert northwest of Las Vegas, and a number of issues warred against each other in his mind.

This was an alien landscape for a Yankee. It was a Tuesday afternoon in August, and it was hotter than the hinges of Hell. There was nobody else on the road. The sky was a shade of blue, the depth and clarity of which he had never seen before, certainly not in the Northeast. The bare, tan-colored earth was like the surface of the moon, with its deep empty lake beds surrounded by spiky mountain ranges.

He didn’t feel like he belonged here. He drove a rented car that was unfamiliar to him. Even the speed limit was foreign to him; lashing across the desert at 75 miles per hour on somebody else’s wheels was a completely new experience to him. So was paying a prostitute for sex, but he was about to do it.

He had to keep reminding himself that it was legal here. Back East, there were massage parlors he knew sold sex, but he had never considered it because he was afraid of being arrested. He was also afraid of disease, but he had read that infection was completely unheard of in Nevada bordellos. The girls were examined and tested every week, and condoms were required for everything.

He came to a turnoff with a battered sign and a flashing light. Just like it said on the website. Left turn, drive four miles, look for another sign.

Jack reflected briefly on the wedding ring on his left hand, and what it meant in the context of what he was planning to do. He wondered if he should take it off or something, but he reflected that professional girls must always guess the truth; Ninety per cent of their clients were married. He left the ring on. He wasn’t really very troubled about his marital status; he’d had no carnal relations with his wife in months. She was so consumed with career and ambition that she had no interest, and made no bones about saying so. After 10 years of marriage, everything was a struggle of Shakespearean dimensions: To be or not to be, to have kids or not to have kids, to fuck or not to fuck . . .

“I’m sorry Jack . . . I just don’t have it in me . . . I need some time . . . ” Jill had said sadly, as he left for the airport a few days earlier.

“How can you let me leave town sexually deprived? This is Las Vegas, after all . . . What happens if I get lucky, in more ways than one . . . “

“More ways than one? Well, let’s see. If you win a lot of money, make them give you a check. If you get lucky the other way, my advice is…use a condom,” she said simply, and she turned to walk away. Jack tugged at her sleeve and stopped her.

“That’s no answer . . . The problem is not just lack of pussy . . . I love you too much to . . . “

Jill regarded him for a moment, then took his right hand and pressed it to her lips before speaking.

“I’ll always love you and I know you’ll always love me. Just do what you must to survive, and always come home to me.”

Then she turned firmly on her heel and walked away.

Two more miles to go, and Jack could see a group of dusty ranch buildings and some dim neon on the horizon. So his wife wouldn’t fuck him, and she had just told him to go find some other woman to screw.

‘Great,’ he thought to himself; ‘just what I’ve always wanted.’ But in his heart, it was not true: He was a writer by trade, and the kinds of women he met in his travels were not the promiscuous type. He knew a lot of them were lesbians, and the rest seemed to be leading the solitary writer’s life for good reason: they were not very attractive, or personable, or outgoing, or . . .

They weren’t his type. They weren’t Jill. But he was at the end of his rope, and he was going to explode if he didn’t get laid. He didn’t know for sure if Jill was serious in her instruction, but he could usually tell when she was kidding or not. She wasn’t kidding: ‘Use a condom.’

‘Ok,’ Jack thought, ‘I will.’

Jack pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the engine. It was a gritty desert area but the well-kept buildings looked safe enough. On the right was a sort of all-purpose bar and general store with a few disused gas pumps out front. The brothel was behind a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire.

‘Trying to protect the virtue of the ladies,’ Jack surmised. A fencepost held a doorbell and some instructions: ‘Ring here for service.’

‘Service, indeed,’ thought Jack. He rang the bell.

There was a lull as Jack regarded the colorful building inside the fenced compound, then a door opened and a buxom blonde woman came out and opened the gate. She was dressed in a sort of abbreviated house dress and wore high heels and fishnet stockings. She was pretty and young, about 25, he guessed, or about 10 years his junior.

“Well, hello, darling,” she said, “and what are you doing out way out here in the desert in the middle of the summer, in the middle of the dikmen escort afternoon?”

Jack was taken aback. He wasn’t sure what to say. Was there some kind of protocol? His silence was prolonged, and the madam took pity on him.

“Jes’ kidding, honey. I know what you want, and we’ll take care of you. Come inside before your eyeballs fry.” She took his arm and led him inside, and closed the door behind them.

The air conditioning was a definite relief, and he was momentarily blinded, coming from the brilliance outside to the dim lighting of the parlor. There was a sofa against the outside wall, and a stone fireplace on the wall facing. There were doors at either end of the room.

“My name’s Kelly,” the madam said, in a very businesslike way.

“I’m Jack.”

“Take a seat on the couch and I’ll go get the girls.” She opened the door to his left, which revealed a small cupboard with a telephone in it. She picked it up and pressed a button, and a buzzer sounded softly.

Jack sat down as instructed, and within a few moments the door to his right opened, and eight girls came in, forming a line before him. They were of all shapes and sizes, generally attractive and all of them scantily dressed. As if to remind him of the reason for his presence here, his erection began to come to life.

“Okay, ladies . . . Say hello to Jack,” said Kelly, and they sounded off down the line from his left to his right.

“April,” the first one said.







“Tina–No, Gina! Gina!” said the last one, flustered. She looked around and the other girls giggled, and her face went beet red. She was about 5′ 2″, dressed in a black bra with matching panties. She was a redhead, and had very pale skin; she was also somewhat small-breasted. Of average weight, she wore a sheer, satiny wrap over her shoulders and lace-top thigh-high stockings. Her looks were nice though not remarkable, but something in Jack’s heart went out to her.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Gina,” she repeated, reddening again. The girls laughed louder then, and she covered her face with her hands. “These goddamned names!”

She was really cute, thought Jack, and he felt his arousal begin to build.

“Let’s go, Gina,” said Jack, and Gina looked almost surprised as the other girls filed out.

“Thanks, Jack,” she said. “Let’s go to my room,” she said, and led the way through the door on the right, and down a paneled and carpeted hallway.

“Ever been to a brothel before?” Gina asked, and ‘no’ was all he said. Gina’s room was small but tidy. A king-sized bed took up most of it, so much so that it was positioned flush with the mirrored far wall, in order to allow the door to open and close; access to the bed was from one side only. The walls were paneled, and at the foot of the bed was room for a makeup table and dresser, and a small sink. A door, ajar, revealed a small bathroom. Against the wall to the right of the bed was a small table covered with a crocheted coverlet, holding a small Tiffany-style lamp and a book: ‘Sonnets from the Portuguese,’ by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Jack picked it up.

“You reading this?” He asked.

“Yes,” replied Gina. “Surprised that a courtesan would be reading it?”

“No, I . . . ” Jack was nonplused briefly, then said, “I admire you for it. English poetry was my major in college.” They stood together in silence for a moment. “Well,” he said finally. “Guess I’m not in Jersey any more.”

“Not in Jersey, no.” Her eyes speculated. “What made you pick me?” she asked, at last. “There are prettier girls and younger ones . . . “

Jack reflected on this, and finally said, “I’m not sure about all this. It is something new for me, and I like the fact that I’m doing it with a girl who doesn’t seem to know what her name is.”

“Good answer,” Gina smiled, and laughed a little. “We all use fake names, and I usually call myself Tina, but a new girl came in today who uses that name, so I got confused. Today, I’m Gina. Tomorrow, who knows. Maybe I’ll start calling myself ‘Elizabeth Barrett Browning’.”

“I don’t think a lot of guys will get it,” Jack ventured.

“No, I don’t think so, either.” She regarded him, and Jack looked closer at her. She had shoulder length red hair, and she wore heavier makeup than it seemed she needed. Close up, he had a better handle on her age, and was surprised that she seemed to be close his age: very late twenties, very early thirties.

He didn’t really know what he had been expecting; maybe someone younger, and more traditionally beautiful, with longer legs and bigger tits. But as she stood before him now, he was deeply attracted to her, mostly because she was not all of those other things. She slipped the light robe off her shoulders and it fell to the floor, and Jack was smitten. He began to ache for her.

After a brief conversation, they arrived emek escort at an appropriate figure to pay for an hour of her time. Gina excused herself, and went out of the room, cash in hand. While she was gone, Jack pondered what he should be doing. He wore jeans, a polo shirt and a pair of moccasins. His erection was growing with anticipation, so he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jeans, and hung them on a hook on the back of the door. Then he lay down on the large bed, and waited for the lady to return, which, at length, she did.

She breezed into the room and spoke, with seemingly genuine gaiety.

“So. Wanna get laid?”

“Well, yeah,” replied Jack.

“I knew that. Just kidding,” she said, and stretched out on the bed next to him. “Let’s get you undressed. There’s just one little thing I need to do first.” Jack pulled off his shirt, and Gina stroked his chest briefly, running her fingers over both his nipples, which caused his cock to harden further. She slid her hands down his sides and under the waistband of his shorts, and Jack lifted his ass off the bed momentarily to aid their removal. Then she took his erect penis gently in her hands and looked at it from all angles, even parting the small opening at the tip of his penis and examining it.

“What’s that all about?”

“Nye County statutes, Jack. I have to examine you. I know more about VD than most registered nurses,” she smiled, “and you look just fine. The only other thing you need to know is you can’t go down on me. And no French kissing.”

“Kissing? I didn’t know you could get VD from kissing.”

“Not VD, Jack. Mono. Flu. The Common Cold. You can get all sorts of things from kissing total strangers, and it puts me out of action. Nobody wants to pay $300 to fuck somebody with a runny nose. And if I don’t fuck, I don’t earn,” she said, simply.

“And that’s the end of the formalities, she declared. “So let’s fuck!”

She sat on the edge of the bed with her legs hanging over the side and her back to him. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, then reached up behind her back with her right hand and undid the clasp of her bra. The two halves parted, and she slipped it off her shoulders, turning to face him. Her breasts were very small, but in proportion they were just perfect. Cute freckles distributed themselves over her shoulders and arms. Her nipples were light pink, and perky. Gina stroked them lightly with her fingertips, bringing them to attention.

“How do you like these, Jack? Not much to speak of.”

“I like small breasts. I think you’re very pretty,” he replied, and Gina’s nipples seemed to stiffen further at the compliment.

“I’m glad you came by, Jack. I’m pretty horny,” she said.

“You’re kidding. In your line of work?”

“No, I’m not kidding,” Gina smiled back at him. “It’s the middle of the summer and we’re in the middle of the desert, and I go for days sometime without doing it. So sometimes I really feel like fucking, if the right kinda guy wanders in.”

“Am I the right kinda guy?”

“A guy who reads Browning? I think you’ll do,” she said, and her eyes sparkled.

Jack didn’t know if this was standard bordello chat, or if she was flattering him, or if she was really telling the truth, but it didn’t actually matter. Gina stood up and kicked off her pumps, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them tantalizingly, slowly down. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed; the hair around her labia was shaved, but a goodly patch of shocking red hair stood forth, just above her pussy lips. The fiery bush, seen against her incredibly white skin, made his head spin with speculation of sexual possibilities.

She lay back down next to him. His cock was rock-hard by this time, and she stroked it gently with her hand, and at the same time took one of his nipples into her mouth and rolled her tongue around it, causing him moan softly.

“I think you’re ready,” Gina said. She turned her back briefly to him while she busied herself doing something he did not see, then she turned back, smiled at him, and took the head of his penis into her mouth. Jack was momentarily surprised; he didn’t think oral sex was allowed either, but then he realized: She had a condom in her mouth, and she was slowly unrolling it as she took his cock into her mouth, millimeter by millimeter.

“Holy shit,” Jack gasped. “I never realized how much fun putting on a condom could be.”

Gina pulled his cock out of her mouth, now fully encased in translucent latex, and began to stroke him.

“Just wait,” Gina replied, and smiled sweetly at him, as she stroked his balls very lightly with her fingers. “So what do you like, Jack? How do you want me to do you?”

Jack had no immediate answer for that, as he had not really thought about it. He was used to making love, but wasn’t sure about having sex, purely for its own sake.

“I guess I want it to be like it is when I am eryaman escort with my, wi–er . . . with someone I love.”

“Like you do it with your wife?” She prompted, glancing at his ring.

“I would like it to be the way it used to be with my wife, and how it could be if we ever did it any more. Like it was in the beginning, when I first knew her.”

“GFE,” said Gina, a little cryptically.

Jack responded with a blank look.

“‘Girl Friend Experience.’ It’s what you want. It’s what all the really sweet guys want, and you’re really sweet.”

Jack found nothing to argue with in her words.

“So make love to me like I’m your girlfriend, Jack . . . or your wife . . . that’s what you really want . . . “

She lay back amid the pillows then, and Jack reached out with his right hand to caress her skin. She closed her eyes and sighed.

‘Girl friend experience, indeed,’ he pondered, as he nuzzled her softly behind her left ear, breathing in her perfume, and the fragrance of her shampoo. He kissed her softly on the lips, observing the no-Frenching rule, and she kissed him back well enough. Then he toyed with her nipples, which were extremely stiff under his hand. He took them into his mouth and suckled her briefly, first one, then the other.

“Nice?” Jack inquired.

“Oh, yeah,” Gina replied.

He kept on working her breasts with his tongue, while slipping his hand between her legs, which she parted readily to him. Her pussy was extremely wet, and Gina squirmed under the ministrations of his tongue and fingers.

“You really are turned on,” Jack said, with some wonderment.

“I told you, Jack . . . I haven’t done it in a while.”

“So this is good?” He asked.

“Very good,” she replied, closing her eyes and arching her back, to press her mound harder into his moving hand.

Jack left off sucking the girl’s breasts, and turned his full attention to her lower regions. He gently spread Gina’s pussy lips with the fingers of his left hand, and delicately rubbed the skin on either side of her clitoris, using the lubricant that flowed liberally from her cunt. She stretched out her legs in response, and her hands strayed to her perfect little breasts. She ran her fingers over her own nipples, and her back arched with yearning.

Suddenly, Jack realized something he had never known before: that he enjoyed giving pleasure as much, if not more, than receiving it. His doubts about coming here were not so much about legality or morality; it was doubt about whether there was anything in it for him. His joy in sex with Jill was it giving her pleasure and watching her receive, and sex for him was not complete unless he could give of himself in this way. It took sex with a total stranger to show him this, but now he knew it in his heart, and knew what it meant.

He was not so much angry with Jill for not putting out for him; rather, his true anger was in that he couldn’t give her pleasure any more, and that she could no longer accept it from him in that way.

“God, Jack, where did you learn to do that?” Gina’s words brought him back to the present.

“It’s good?”

“Christ, yes . . . “

“They made me take Human Sexuality 101 to get out of college, and I actually paid attention,” Jack said, devilishly.

He increased the speed of his fingers, pressing firmly and stroking almost, but not quite, on top of her clitoris. Her button was swollen, almost distended with lust, and it seemed to him that to touch it directly would be a little too much stimulation. The friction had dried out some of the moisture of her pussy, and he dipped his fingers back between her cunt lips to get them wet again. This was the point where he would usually start using his tongue, but he knew that was out.

“What I wouldn’t give to be able to suck your pussy,” Jack said, lasciviously. “I’d lick you ’til your eyes crossed.”

“I’d love that too, but we can’t,” Gina said. “Here, I’ll help.” Then she took Jack’s left hand in hers and stuck his three middle fingers in her mouth. She licked them, and covered them all over with her own saliva, until they were dripping.

“How resourceful,” Jack said. He returned his hand to Gina’s pussy, and transferred some of her saliva to the vulva area around her clit, then he slowly worked the three fingers between her pussy lips, into her tight pussy.

Gina’s reactions heightened at this, and Jack rubbed her clitoris a little faster, and gently worked his fingers deeper into her vagina, until he could feel her cervix with the tip of his middle finger. The girl seemed delirious with pleasure. She was all in motion as he finger-fucked her and rubbed her clit faster. Her legs tensed and relaxed in turn, as she squeezed her vaginal walls against his hand within. Her hands clutched at the bed sheets, and she writhed with what Jack realized at last was pure pleasure. ‘She may be a prostitute, she may have been with a thousand men, but I can make her cum . . . ‘ Jack thought to himself, and with that thought came the full realization of his true desire, at last.

“Jack, wait!” He slowed down the motion of his hand on her pussy, alarmed.

“What is it? Am I hurting you?” he asked, with genuine concern.

“No, no. . .Just . . . Oh, God. . .Don’t make me come yet!”

Jack withdrew his hand and regarded her.

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