CHAPTER THREE
Troy
It was pretty hilarious. The two girls couldn’t have been a day over eighteen, much less old enough to drink. But they were nubile and flirty, with a freshness that only the very young have. I found myself thinking about the brunette.
She was voluptuous and curvy, dressed in an outfit that lovingly hugged every inch that delectable body. I’d seen her the moment she walked in the door in that ridiculously short skirt, and waited patiently as she and her friend made her way to the bar.
Up close, she was even more beautiful. The darkness lent an allure to her lips, and her eyes were a warm caramel color, like melting chocolate. My dick hardened, despite the fact that I flirt with dozens of women every night, and have fucked hundreds in my lifetime.
You see, my brother and I are co-owners of some very successful establishments. We’re in the entertainment industry so to say. We run a couple clubs, a couple bars, and a couple of “gentlemen’s joints.” But the real money comes from our escort business, a discreet service we offer on the side.
I know what you’re thinking … what kind of disgusting, depraved pimps run an escort business? I guess Tyler and I fell into it. When we opened our first club, we were working seven days a week, doing anything and everything that needed to be done –bartender, bouncer, manager, janitor … you name it, we did it.
But part of running a club is sheer luck. Sometimes a club is up, sometimes it’s down for no fucking reason whatsoever. And despite our hard work, we’d been losing money for the first three months, hemorrhaging a hole in our bank account. So we’d taken a loan from a shark, expecting that he’d break our legs and smash our faces if we didn’t pay back the money.
Except after a private conversation with his boss, the front man came back into the room with an odd proposition. He said we could have the money, upfront, no strings, no ties, if we consented to a very special arrangement … we had to fuck his boss.
Tyler and I refused on the spot. Fuck another guy? No fucking way, there wasn’t enough money in the world to make that happen. Except the monitor on the wall had flickered on suddenly, the flatscreen coming to life with an image of a beautiful blonde, her cheekbones as sharp as razors, her mouth a lipsticked cherry red.
“I’m Margot,” she’d purred throatily. “I understand you need about $100k to keep your little project going on,” she’d laughed.
My brother and I stiffened. She was treating us like puppy dogs, when we were professionals. Plus, “our little project,” as she called it, would turn a profit, so long as we could hang on a few more months. I frowned angrily, and my brother turned to leave.
But Margot softened on-screen and her expression became alluring, even predatory. “I’d like to make you a very simple offer,” she’d said.
It was a sweetheart loan, financially. Zero interest, indefinite term. But so long as there was an outstanding balance, my brother and I were to report to her apartment once a week to fuck her.
Now before you ask about my brother and I, it’s probably better just to tell you up front why women love us, craving our bodies, worshipping our dicks. My brother and I are identical twins – handsome ones. I’m not a stuck-up guy, but after twenty-five years on the earth, I know we’re good-looking, and frankly, neither Tyler nor I have any trouble trading on it. Margot wasn’t the first woman who’d propositioned us, and she wouldn’t be the last.
So we’d dutifully showed up every Monday night at her apartment for three months, fucking her every which way, violating her holes while we paid off the loan. And the second every penny was returned, we never saw her again.
Except … through Margot, we were introduced to one of the most lucrative trades in the business. That’s right, pimping girls underground. It can be vicious and cruel, if you don’t play it right. There are seedy dudes from Russia who import girls and keep them almost like animals in cages, filming them, renting them out in deplorable conditions, uncaring if the girls get sick, throwing them away like trash once they’re used.
But that’s not the type of establishment we run. Our girls are discreet, beautiful, and charming. A lot of them are from middle-class backgrounds and are just looking to make some cash on the side as they get their lives together. Some are students, some are single moms, some just need some extra money to tide them over. So it’s a pretty penny so long as you’re careful – and my brother and I always watch our backs.
The bartender stint was just a front. I use it to keep an eye on the customers, to watch as my girls circulated, scoping any potential high rollers. But the little girl who’d come begging had caught my eye. And what the hell? I was feeling horny. A quick fuck in the back wouldn’t hurt.