Chapter 3

She had done all that she planned on doing for the bikers. If they fucked up on her property one more time, she would not be as nice. Realistically it wasn’t just the bikers that had been acting out. Lately, the entire world around them seemed to be going to shit.

Rosa was in pain; her wrist was badly sprained, and her jaw was swollen. Rosa might like to do doubles, but the men knew ahead of time that the word NO meant no. Those ignats, Gnome and Fiddle, got off lucky as far as Hilda was concerned. She heard Rosa scream and tell them no several times, but they refused to back off. Even when she had come into the room and saw what was happening, they sneered at her and told her to, “Back the fuck off, you old cunt.”

So she did what any self-respecting old cunt would do, she tased them. Tying them up hadn’t been a problem, she was good with rope and knots. Calling the house to get some of the girls to come in early to help load the shit suckers into the back of Friendly’s truck was not as easy.

She couldn’t call just one woman to come in and help. Once she put the word out all of them wanted in on the action. This time Peanut and Gypsy had been left at home because of the newest member of the house needing care and security for a while.

Naughty Nan, Trixie, and Friendly had pulled the trussed up bikers outside while Hilda checked on Rosa’s injuries. Nan took over the care of the injured waitress, and the rest of them had gone visiting to the biker’s clubhouse.

Seeing Trencher standing there with his fingers hooked into his belt loops while he gave her several versions of his, “I’m pissed, and you need to know it,” look, made her sneer back at him. The man was very expressive without saying a word. He was a sex machine when he was in a mood, and she had given him several go rounds just to make sure that his promise of making her love his brand of sex was right on the money.

Sadly, the man got all pissy when she had tied his ass to her four poster and fucked his brains out. He had been a real asshole the night before, tying her down and working her holes over with his cock and several toys. Her pussy was so sensitive by the time the batteries ran out that she could barely walk to the bathroom without flinching.

Once he fell asleep, she had carefully tied him down. She had slipped first a finger into his asshole and then lubed up a small butt plug and given him a taste of his own playbook. She had used a cock ring on him and had even been so cruel as to lay a vibe between his balls and asshole while she sucked his overgrown cock. He kept talking trash about how he would tear her ass up when he got loose, and she’d turned around on all fours before sitting her pussy over his mouth. Every time she heard him start to talk, she lowered her cunt down further until he had to use his mouth for something other than threatening her.

She liked the power end of that scene and hated to untie him after they both came twice. He hadn’t said another word once she pulled the third sized up butt plug from his back hole. He went to the bathroom and came back to pull his clothes on.

His hurtful words as he walked to the door would stay with her. “Whores do what they have been paid to do, not to use what few fucking brains they have to indulge in their fantasies. You might want to remember that for the next customer.” It was the last time he had come in for what he called, “playtime.”

He conveniently forgot that he had never paid her a dime for sex. Money had not been mentioned, and she would have given any money to the women that she kept from harm instead of buying a new necklace. What he didn’t seem to grasp, and most other’s failed to see, was that half of the women that they called whores weren’t.

Thinking that all of the women that worked at Halo Lodge were whores seemed to give the men permission to stick their heads in their own asses and not need to come up for air.

Some of the girls did make a good living selling their bodies. At least four of the eight women that lived up at the homestead took money on a regular basis from men who offered it. She was not going to toss stones at those women.

Not only were they good for her business, but they also provided a necessary service in the area. Prostitution was an ugly job classification, but a woman could make a good living working on her back or knees. At least here, there was no forced sex, no abuse of consensual sex, or drugs. The women were as safe as they could be and they enjoyed a good clientele.

The men that came in expecting to have sex with one of the women who sold their talents had to talk to Colin. Colin was the dual gender bar manager that Hilda had hired away from a brokerage firm in Charleston. He read her ad looking for a manager of the Lodge, applied for the job, and he was now “Hilda’s Bitch.” That was the name that he had made on his name tag for work.

The fact was that Colin was thirty-eight years old, and had been born a hermaphrodite. His dick worked as well as his pussy and Hilda refused to ask him questions that she had no business or actual interest in. After she had looked the term up online, she understood the phenomenon much better. She doubted if Colin would ever have a reassignment operation, but she didn’t actually care which gender he was. If he was happy and healthy, then all was well as far as she was concerned.

Colin handled the money for the girls, and if a patron decided to tip his partner, that money was on her. Ten percent of the take went to the medical insurance for the women, and the rest went into their pockets. The Lodge didn’t take cash from the sale of sex.

Trixie and Friendly never accepted the many offers for an hour of their time, at least not the paid kind. Peanut only accepted a big old boy from one of the hill country families, and he only showed up on the third day of the second week of the month to drop off the cases of corn liquor that Hilda ordered for the Lodge.

He was not just muscular; the man was sporting a thick belly and a beard grown down to his chest. Peanut had a serious fetish for her mountain man, and Hilda had to bite the inside of her cheek every time the two of them got together. Each time he left, poor Peanut was walking funny, and she always took a day off to recuperate from the experience.

Trixie was having a hard time deciding what to do about a certain Viking throwback type of guy. Krom was a decent sort most of the time, but his brains were as thick as mud. From what Trixie said about his offer to make her his whore and only his whore, truthfully, Hilda was shocked that the man could still walk upright.

Hilda knew that his name was actually Johan Krouse. She had hired him for a few jobs that required discretion and his skills in the water. Since he was a welder by trade and was certified in underwater welding, she had paid him a great deal of money to recover something for a client of hers. It took him days instead of the months that a company on the eastern seaboard had estimated.

It was a damn shame that all of that talent and pretty were topped by such a narrow-minded man. Trixie was a wonderful person with a protective streak a mile wide. She wouldn’t let the women around her talk about Krom in a bad way, but if she was the one talking, he was an asshole.

“That little asshole of his is why he can’t open his mind to the truth. His asshole is so tight, the shit has backed up to clog his brain waves from his eyes to his mind.”

Trixie was philosophical at times, especially when she’d had a few shots of her favorite Tequila. Her best excuses for Krom’s actions usually centered around the man having a tiny asshole and brain. Last night she’d said that his asshole and brain were merging, and that was why he was so cranky all of the time.

“If I had an ego that big, I would have had a hard time sticking my head up my ass too. They are connected, and I am surprised that the man doesn’t implode.”

Gypsy actually hated most men. She would allow them to please her sexually, and she would allow them to enjoy the experience, but as far as liking men, she didn’t. She wasn’t a lesbian either. She always said that she wanted someone like Colin. That way if she wanted dick one night, it was there. If she wanted to belt on a strap on, the pussy was there too.

When Colin had first begun working at the Lodge, Gypsy had terrified him. Now she teased and tormented Colin to distraction. Hilda thought privately that one day Colin would give into the woman’s wooing.

Friendly was a different sort. Show her a family with kids, and she would smile from ear to ear. Tell her a sob story, and she would cry with you. Show her that you had an enemy and she would slit their throat. Her back story would make an angel cry, and Hilda couldn’t bring herself to think about the woman’s past right now.

Her friend, Heaven, was out of town for the month, and Hilda hoped that that relationship worked out better than the last two had. Heaven liked dangerous men. This last one was what she would definitely consider a dangerous man.

Hops was another one of the women that was a sometimes whore. She sold her snatch and never acted like she was ashamed of it either. She told Hilda that she was young and still dumb enough to make enough money to retire, go to school, or buy a new house. “Whatever I do with my money, no one can say that I didn’t earn it. So those bastards that are too fucking good to know me on the street? They can kiss my ass for a ten dollar bill. I’ll let them lick it for twenty.” She had laughed and wandered off before Hilda could laugh with her. Damn if Hilda could say a thing to refute the girl’s philosophy.

May and June were two women that did the cooking at the Lodge. They also waitressed when things got crazy around the place. They were two of the prettiest women that Hilda had ever seen. She had known that they were related when she spoke to them initially. The women were both dusky skinned, with white blonde, and kinked up curls that looked so soft that she wanted to reach out and touch their heads. She spoke a little Spanish, but it wasn’t even close to the dialect that the women used. She was getting frustrated, and they were getting on her nerves. They quickly pointed out that she was ignorant of the people of El Salvador.

They were right, and she had been ready to tell them thank you, but that she would continue to look for someone easier to get along with, especially to the person that writes the paychecks, but then June had raised her arm to straighten the scarf around her neck, and Hilda knew that she was going to hire the two. The fingerprints on June’s neck and arm were unmistakable.

At the time it had been a clusterfuck. They had a man that called himself their protector. Two weeks after they started working for the Lodge, that protector ended up burned to death in a fire in the trailer that they’d been staying in with him. He had been drinking a bottle of cheap mescal. It was the cheapest, nastiest cousin of tequila that you could buy, and it was also highly flammable.

The fact that June and May had brought large plastic bags filled with their possessions to work with them the night that the fire occurred was not mentioned. Hilda had not found out about the bags until she took the women home with her that night. When they piled into the Lincoln, they’d had to move the bags that the two of them had dropped off inside the car before the start of their shift. Other than a few long looks shared between the three women, no mention of their former benefactor was voiced.

Hilda had room for them at her place, and they knew it. The women went home with her that night and had never left to live elsewhere. She was pretty sure that it would take a bomb to make them leave, but they had proven their loyalty and worth over the years, and no one wanted them to leave. They cooked and cleaned and bullied the others into doing their part to keep the house up, and the grounds mowed and trimmed.

She sat in the corner booth at the Lodge and contemplated the possibility of changing her lifestyle. Who was she kidding? She loved the Lodge and the girls. She loved Colin, and even if she closed the doors tomorrow, she knew that it wouldn’t be long before she reopened them.

She needed to either learn to say no or find another house for a few more women that needed shelter and someone to help them learn that it was okay to like themselves.