Chapter 4
The girls were awakened by the phone ringing.
"Shit, it's eight-thirty," Elsie said, leaning over the side of the bed and looking at the tiny little alarm clock on the end table. "Hope it's a worthwhile call."
She got out of bed, and went down into the living room, where the only phone, as yet, had been installed.
"Hello, Pleasure House," she said.
It was a call from a young girl interested in moving in and working for the house. Calls like this kept on coming in all day, and Elsie and Brenda were kept quite busy answering them, giving mini-interviews over the phone, and setting up appointments with the girls that sounded promising.
Many of he girls were eliminated over the phone. Some of them were just curious, and called on a dare or a bet from a friend. They were easy to spot, because their lack of seriousness was obvious right through what they were saying.
However, at the end of the day, forty-some odd interviews had been set up for the following day, all of them sounding promising.
There were several of the girls who had had some massage or massage parlor experience, but most of them did not.
Brenda and Elsie knew that massage could be taught easily, at least enough to satisfy any man who came to the house just for that purpose.
However, Elsie and Brenda knew, as they were sure most of the girls knew even before visiting the house, that in reality, all they were running was a whorehouse.
Oh, it wasn't going to be like any whorehouse that had ever been put together before. This was going to be first-class, all the way, but it was still going to primarily be a place where men, of all kinds, and from all walks of life, could for a price enjoy the company of a lovely female.
That day was spent preparing all of the rooms. There was linen to purchase, the making of some thirty beds, which was no easy job, and various other little odds and ends to get the house all ready to go.
The ad for the opening, directed to all of the men of the area, would not be out in the paper until that Thursday, a day before the opening.
Elsie knew that getting all of the girls hired, assigned to room, acquainted with the house rules, which were still not established, and massage lessons to boot, was going to be a full week's work in itself.
The next day, the interviews began. Elsie and Brenda alternated every other girl, after having talked extensively on the type of things that they would look for in various applicants, as well as the things that would automatically eliminate certain unsuitable applicants.
All of the girls had to be beautiful, in body, mind and spirit. Elsie and Brenda had fairly good insight and good judgment and could spot girls that could cause problems almost immediately.
At the end of the second day of interviews, they had thirty girls all moved in, and ready to go, as well as a backup list of some fifteen girls, who would act as alternates to fill in if and when there were vacancies.
Elsie and Brenda were delighted with the tremendous response from the girls in the area. Actually, there wasn't much to do for pretty young girls down around Miami Beach, except hustling the various hotels and the pools, which got to be a drag after a while.
This was going to be a house that would give a lot of them good steady jobs, allowing them to meet all kinds of men from all walks of life, as well as making some really good bucks for their pockets.
Elsie and Brenda decided that the fee would be thirty dollars for one hour. The girl would get to keep half of that, plus any tip that she could manage to earn during the hour from the client. The other half of the thirty would go into the house fund, otherwise known as Elsie and Brenda's pocket.
With thirty girls in the house, and all of them taking on several customers, hopefully, each night, it was easy to see how profitable this little business venture could become.
The girls hoped that the response from the men would be just half as good as they had gotten for the jobs for the young ladies. If that happened, they would really be in for some good profitable business.
The girls that they had hired were absolutely beautiful. Almost all of them were Floridians, and had that healthy tanned look of girls who spent a great deal of time on the beach.
Elsie had gotten quite horny during the interviews, because she as well as Brenda had to look at all of the girls with their clothes off.
After all, flesh was the name of the game in the Pleasure House, and the only way to tell what the girls had to offer was to see them naked.
One after another had paraded nude in front of Brenda and Elsie, in a huge room which was kind of a den, just off the sitting room. It was used for all of the interviews of the various applicants.
Some of he girls were very pretty, but they would have bad legs, or their tits would be too small, and they would be eliminated.
But in a fairly short time, they had more than enough beautiful girls to fill the house, as well as a healthy standby list for fill-ins.
Florida flesh was attractive, that was something that Brenda and Elsie learned right from the start of the erotic interviews.
When Tuesday night came around, everything was in order. All of the girls were hired, and busy fixing up their own bedrooms in their own particular way.
Elsie and Brenda had told them that their own room could be done in any style that they saw fit, keeping in mind that it was the pleasing of the customers that would get them the bigger tips.
Elsie and Brenda felt that they could trust each one of the girls to do a nice job on their own rooms. They had each been given fairly extensive verbal interviews after seeing their bodies, and they had gotten to know each one of them fairly well.
They were a nice bunch of girls, and they were as excited about making the Pleasure House a success, as Elsie and Brenda were-a healthy outlook all around.
"Oh, gosh, I forgot all about Alan," Brenda said suddenly, enjoying a cup of coffee with Elsie in her room.
After that night, Brenda had moved back up into her own room, and had gotten it together quite nicely. She had sex with Elsie several more times, and they were really the best of friends now. But she did like her own privacy, and had moved upstairs the day after their first physical encounter.
But, as she was doing now, she liked to spend a lot of time in Elsie's room, which also served as he office, since it was so close to the downstairs. They would sit and rap over a cup of coffee or a hot drink.
"That's right," Elsie chortled, "you were suppose to call him, weren't you?"
"Yes, things have been so hectic here all week, I completely forgot."
"Well, love, that's understandable. Alan will understand if you tell him you've been really busy setting up the business."
"That's just it, Elsie, he doesn't have any idea what I'm doing here. I guess I'll have to make up something to tell him."
"Perhaps you're jumping the gun," Elsie said wisely. "Maybe he'll be so glad to hear from you, he won't care what you have been up to."
"Maybe you're right. I think I'll call him."
They had had the phone company come and install several more phones, one in the hall on each floor, complete with an intercom in case any of the girls had to reach the downstairs in case of an emergency or something, and one in Brenda's bedroom.
She flew up the stairs, eager to talk to Alan after the several fast and hectic days that had flown by without her even knowing it.
She nervously dialed the number, and awaited Alan's pleasant voice on the other end of the phone.
"Baxter residence," a stately and proper voice answered. Of course, she should have realized that with that much money, it would be unlikely that Alan would answer himself.
"May I speak to Alan, please?"
"Whom shall I say is calling?" the voice replied.
"Brenda," was all she said, objecting somewhat to the inquiry.
In a second, Alan was on the phone.
"Hi, love," he said, "where the hell have you been? I've been waiting to hear from you for the past five days. I've been frantic. Are you okay?"
"Sure, Alan. I've just been incredibly busy. This is the first minute that I've had since I said goodbye to you," Brenda told him.
"What have you been up to that has kept you too busy to call me?" Alan persisted.
"Oh, well, let's not talk about that. What have you been doing with yourself, Alan?" Brenda said, obviously trying to change the subject.
"Okay, love, okay. You should have known better than to pry, I'm sorry. Well, for me, I've been playing a lot of tennis, and doing a little riding, and waiting to hear from a very pretty brunette lady that I had a stimulating plane ride with from New York."
"Oh, I see," she said.
"Brenda, I have to see you. Where are you? Can we get together tonight?" Alan was anxious, that was obvious by the tone of his voice.
"Yes, that would be really nice," Brenda said, not in any way trying to hide her own enthusiasm. She really wanted to see Alan, and her heart was pounding even as she talked to him over the phone.
"I'm on my way. Where shall I pick you up?" Alan said excitedly.
"No, Alan, no. I'll come and meet you." Brenda still wasn't ready to tell him about Pleasure House, and the type of work that she and Elsie were getting themselves into. That would surely mean that she would have to reveal that she had been a prostitute back in New York for the past two years, and she just couldn't see herself telling that to Alan. Not yet, anyway.
"Mystery girl, huh?" Alan said with a little laugh. "Okay, why don't you drive out here? You can spend the evening if you like and we can go for a drive along the ocean in the morning, or riding, or play some tennis, or swim, or whatever you like. How does that sound?"
"As long as I'm with you, Alan, I don't care what we do, but all of that sounds great," Brenda answered him, getting more and more excited as she now realized that she would be seeing her handsome lover very soon.
"Well, then, get your ass up here. You have the address?"
"Yes, I'll find it, be there as soon as I can," she said, and hung up the phone, her heart beating so fast it felt like it was going to pop right through her tight sweater.
She flew downstairs, and told Elsie of her conversation with Alan. Elsie was generally delighted for her.
"Go ahead, love, everything is under control. We all just have to wait for Thursday when the phones start ringing with prospective customers, hopefully, so why don't you take the whole day off tomorrow and have a good time with Alan."
"Are you sure you will be okay here alone?" Brenda said, feeling somewhat guilty in leaving her business partner alone just as things were getting off the ground.
"Now don't you worry about little Elsie," Elsie said with a gleam in her eye. "I have thirty beautiful girls to keep me company, and I have a feeling that more than one of them would be happy to accompany me into the bedroom, if you know what I mean."
"Why you little devil," Brenda said, realizing that Elsie was probably elated that she was leaving, being able to be all alone with the luscious workers of he house, and no doubt get into more than one of their pretty little pussies.
"Yes, I guess I am," Elsie said, grinning from ear to ear. "Now scat. Go make yourself pretty for that handsome stud, and get going. It's six-thirty already, and I think you should be back here about this time tomorrow, so we can get together on any last details that have to be worked out before we open on Friday."
"Okay, love," Brenda said, and she leaned over the bed, giving Elsie a tight hug, and then topping it off with a kiss that was perhaps a little longer than necessary, but was what Brenda was feeling.
She truly loved the girl and was looking forward to loving and working with her in the coming days, weeks, monthly, and perhaps-hopefully-even years.
Brenda left her foxy-looking friend and flew back up into her room. She showered and dressed in a beautiful floor-length evening dress.
She wanted to look elegant when she saw Alan, having a good idea that she would be walking into quite a rich estate. She packed a bag with a pair of her sexiest faded jeans, and a tight-fitting jersey top for riding or whatever they did the next day.
After perfuming herself with her most expensive and exotic scent, grabbing her bag, and the keys to the VW which she and Elsie had purchased as a "house" car, she was off.
She peeked in on Elsie as she passed her bedroom. "How do I look?" she said, making a short girlish twirl in front of Elsie.
"Honey, all I can say is you better get your ass out of here, or I'll have that dress off you and have you sprawled on this bed in a jiffy," Elsie said, giving her a big, approving smile.
"Going, going," Brenda said, giving her friend a big smile, a fast wink, and then closing the bedroom room.
The night was balmy, the stars were twinkling in the beautiful sky already, and she tore down the long driveway that led away from the old house with the feeling of love and adventure in her heart.
As she pulled up in front of Alan's estate, her eyes were boggled by the spendor of it all. There was a long, circular driveway that led up to the place, and all along it were beautiful lit torches, showing the way.
It was a majestic house, looking like something out of "Gone With the Wind." It had huge white pillars holding up an extensive balcony, and it just reeked of money.
Before she even got the motor of her little VW turned off, there was a man, dressed in a butler uniform, opening the door for her.
"Good evening, Miss Brenda," he said. "Alan is waiting for you. Please follow me," he said, closing the door for her, and showing her inside the beautiful house.
Alan was just inside the large, white doors, and flew into her arms the moment he saw her. He was beautifully dressed in a cashmere sports coat and turtleneck sweater. He made a truly dashing sight, and Brenda was elated to see him.
They embraced fondly, and Alan led Brenda into the study, closing the enormous doors. He pulled her tight to him, and squeezed her hard against his massive chest.
"I can't believe how much I've missed you, love," he' said, finally alone with the girl he had thought so much about the past five days.
Alan's parents, very prominent socially in the Miami area, were determined to marry Alan off to some boring socialite.
However, Alan had a mind of his own, and had always made it quite clear to both of them that he would be marrying the girl of his choice, and not of theirs.
For the past five days, his mother had invited a constant array of dull boring as hell young prissy assholes over for tea, in hopes that one of them would be attractive to her son-of course, to no avail.
All Alan had done the past week was to think of beautiful Brenda, and the outrageous thing that they had done together on the airplane on the way in from New York City.
Alan, although quite the free spirit, had never done anything of hat sort before in his life, or for that matter, had never even thought of doing anything like that.
But after seeing Brenda, there had seemed to be no barriers to what he was capable of, or no limits to what he would do for her, or better yet, to her.
He had gone crazy, after not hearing from her the first couple of days, and it had upset his mother tremendously.
"What is that matter with you, son?" she had said to him, after he had been home three days, and was beginning to pace around near the telephone practically every walking hour.
"Well, I met this girl on the flight down here, and I gave her my number. She promised to call, and I haven't heard from her yet. Shit, I wish she would call," he had said angrily.
"Alan, watch your language!"
"Oh, come off it, Mom," he had said, tired of her prim and proper attitude about everything. He had always been somewhat of a rebel, not wanting to conform to their stuffy social standing type of behavior.
"Really, Alan, remember your upbringing," she had persisted.
"Look, Mom, all I can think of right now is Brenda, and seeing her again. That is all that I care about, do you understand that?"
"Just where does this young lady come from?" his mother had asked him.
"I don't know. She has been living in New York, and now she is moving down here."
"Why is she moving, Alan?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think some kind of business, or maybe just to get away from the city. I really don't know, and I could care less."
"Well, at least you could have found out something about her family," his mother said, remembering the Baxter tradition and certainly not wanting him to go running off and marrying some unknown common tramp.
"All I know is that I love her, Mother, and that is all that matters."
"What?" she had screamed, jumping from the sofa where she had been having her tea, and beaming at her rebellious son, giving him a look of distrust and disturbance. "Now listen here, Alan, I-"
"Look, Mother, I am twenty-three years old, and I am perfectly capable of choosing my own friends, including, and especially, women friends. I thought that you knew that by now. We have been through this many times before.
It was true, they had. But this time Alan's mother could tell by the look in his eye that he was far more serious than he had ever been before, and she was worried. She knew that there were a lot of money-hungry girls that would love to gain the Baxter name and fortune through Alan, and she was determined to have Alan marry a girl of breeding.
"As long as you live in my house, Alan, I expect some respect from you," she said, getting more and more hot under the collar.
"Want me to leave?"
"Oh, no, dear, no, I didn't mean that," she had replied, a tear forming in her eye.
This conversation went the same route every time. Alan would have thought that his mother would have learned by now to leave the subject alone, but she always persisted.
He stopped thinking about her. She and his father were out at the opera tonight, and he had the house all to himself for the next few hours.
He had had several young ladies come and stay over, sleeping with him in his own room. This was something that his mother and father both objected to, but had decided to let him do. It was either that, or he would move out, and neither of them wanted that.
His mother had decided that it would be better to have him carrying on in his wicked ways under the family roof, than to be doing it out on his own somewhere, where she would have no idea at all what he was up to.
"Well, let me look at you," Alan said, taking Brenda by the arms and stepping back from her, looking at her thoroughly from heel to toe. "You are far more beautiful than I even remembered you to be," Alan said, gazing wantonly at the sheer and tight-fitting evening dress that Brenda was sporting, showing of her full figure to its fullest advantage.
"You're looking pretty damn good yourself," Brenda said, and meaning every word. Alan did look absolutely dashing in his sporty outfit, and Brenda could feel her cunt twitching already, let alone her heart, which was beating practically out of control at the mere presence of the handsome and stimulating young stud.
"Come, sit down," Alan said, leading her over to an overstuffed, old-fashioned, but obviously extremely expensive sofa.
He reached up and pulled a long velvet cord, which hung majestically from the ceiling. No sound was heard in the room but no sooner had he pulled it, than there was a knock on the big door which led into the room.
"Charles, come in," Alan said, and the door opened to reveal the butler who had escorted Brenda into the house when she had arrived.
"What would you like, love?" Alan said to Brenda.
She thought for a moment, and although she didn't really drink much, she decided that the house, the company, and the moment, called for sherry. "Sherry would be fine, Alan," she told him.
"Two please, Charles, and chill the glass," Alan said to the butler.
Charles bowed slightly, and vanished, closing the large doors behind him. In what seemed like a miraculously short time, he returned, sporting a small silver tray, with two beautifully-cut wine glasses and a crystal pitcher on it.
"Shall I pour, sir?" he asked obediently.
"No, thank you, Charles, that will be all," Alan said, dismissing the servant.
Alan poured two glasses of the pretty red fluid, passed one to Brenda who was in awe at the whole thing that was going on in her life: Alan, this house, her own house, the business, everything! She raised his own in preparation of a toast.
"To men's rooms above the clouds," Alan said, smiling widely.
"I'll certainly drink to that," Brenda said, not being able to hold back the giggle that had started from deep within her, and now was surfacing in a loud laugh.
They toasted one another, and sipped the drink romantically. Alan leaned over, and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Brenda almost dropped the sherry glass out of her hand, she was taken aback by Alan's kiss, and his very presence.
Now she was beginning to realize what all of those love songs were written about, and what all of those corny sayings like hearing bells ring, and things like that meant. She was in a sort of Utopia when she was with Alan, and the longer she was with him, the more intense it became.
Alan laid his glass down on the silver-rimmed coffee table that stretched the full length of the couch in front of him, and pursued the kiss more vigorously.
Brenda barely got her own glass down before Alan's passionate embrace took hold of her senses. They tore into each other, kissing warmly, letting their tongues explore each other's mouth cavities.
On the plane, everything had been so fast, so exciting and so dangerous. This was different. They had all evening, and all day tomorrow to really get to know one another, and the warm feeling spread over them like a blanket of love.
There was a roaring fire in the marble fireplace at one end of the enormous study, and they moved down in front of it. They sat there, buried in the deep pile of the plush carpet, and spoke words of love to one another, kissing, embracing, fondling each other.
The time flew by. They had no idea just how much time they had spent in front of the fire, but were soon to find out. All of a sudden, the door to the den opened, and Alan's parents walked in.
From the look of Alan's mother, she had known before entering the room that Alan was entertaining a young lady. Alan figured that the butler must have told her, upon her inquiry he was sure. The butler was a friend of Alan's, and although he respected Mrs. Baxter, disagreed with many of her opinions, especially those about interfering with Alan's private and social life.
"Well, this must be Brenda," Mrs. Baxter blurted out, in a tone that made Brenda jump off the floor and strike a startled pose.
"Mother, why didn't you know?" was all that Alan said. "I'd like you to meet Brenda," Alan said. "Brenda, this is my mother and father."
"How do you do, Mr. and Mrs. Baxter," Brenda said, extending a hand nervously, which was ignored by both of the Baxters.
Mr. Baxter was a strikingly handsome man, just slightly grey at the temples. This was remarkable for one of his age. He looked trim and athletic, and it was easy for Brenda to see where Alan got his sexy features from.
They both acknowledged her greetings in a tone that was more patronizing than friendly and Brenda wished she could just disappear. If it wasn't for Alan, and the way that she felt about him, that was probably just what she would have done.
However, Alan got her out of the uncomfortable position quite quickly.
"Good night, Mother and Father," Alan said, taking Brenda by the hand and pulling her out of the room quickly.
"Alan, come back here!" he heard his mother calling, as he shut the two large doors that separated the den from the hall.
He led Brenda up the stairway that circled up to the second floor. He led her down the end of the hall, without saying a word, through a doorway, and up a tiny stairway that led to a loft-type room.
Brenda saw the big brass bed in Alan's room, and knew that everything was going to be okay.