We Own a Legal Brothel! Ch. 01

My first attempt at any writing, I am far more at home with numbers. I wish this story was true, it's just a dream. If it is accepted I have several more chapters already written and will be submitted if I don't get a lot of negative comment.

Although not strictly correct this story I have classified as Loving Wives.

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A logical place to start is me, The names Ron I'm nearly sixty and retired from a life in the police force some time ago living in the south of England. The important character is "My best friend who is a girl" – I have known Chantal since she was 21 and my story starts when at the age of 37 she had been married for 10 years.

Chantal is very intelligent, 5ft 7ins tall, brunette worn longish with a fringe, the most perfect legs and lovely eyes. The only criticism any man could have is that she is rather small up top 34A. She has always been reluctant to "show off" her body and is very reserved possibly due to her involvement with the church – much more unusual in the UK than in the States.

Some months ago my quite world was shaken up in a couple of dramatic ways first a call from a lawyer in the States telling me that my uncle had died in Nevada and had left me all his estate. Great! While I was aware uncle Fred existed I had never had any contact with him and my father and mother were long dead so I had no knowledge of him at all.

The lawyer said that I was now the sole owner of a sizeable brothel in a small town in Nevada – alarm bells bearing in mind by old career – but he assured me that it was quite legal. As a going concern he estimated the value of the business as $2.5 million and needed me over there quickly to get things sorted out.

While I was rushing around packing etc. my second surprise call of the day, Chantal calls, in tears, and said she must see me, getting my priorities right I say come on around now adding that she must, as I always did, put on some decent heels (seldom worked but always hopeful).

When she came around it was not hard to tell she was extremely upset and after a great many tears and cuddles, some of the tears were mine, sensitive chap where Chantal is concerned, I learnt that she had to leave her husband. I will spare you the gruesome details but ended up taking her back to her house and helping her do a rapid packing job on all her easily moved belongings.

Having settled back at my place and sorting out some coffee I than hit her with my news, her first comment was that she always called me a dirty old man but that was going a bit far. She actually took some convincing that I wasn't winding her up but having read the documents the lawyer had e-mailed me and looking at the web site the "English Ranch" she was as convinced as I was.

"Well you pimp! If I change into some heels and a shortish skirt can I come with you I am more than happy to be as far away from him as I can be?" Well that was more than I could have hoped for, in particular the heels, but I did tell her it was no problem her staying on at my place while I was away. Fortunately my gentlemanly offer was declined.

We had unloaded her stuff into my spare bedroom and giving me a lovely kiss on the cheek she said "Give me half an hour and I'll pack a suitcase and change". Right on time out came Chantal looking very nice, the main change was a smile on her face but the general appearance was smart, light jumper maroon tight mini ( bit long but passable ) and beige court shoes with 3"ish heel and some very nice large gold hoop earrings which I had given her a few birthdays ago.

After a quick taxi ride the rest of our trip was endless airport check in and security but we finally arrived at the small airport about 200 miles north of Las Vegas. It was late evening so I booked a couple of rooms in a nearby motel for the night.

Over breakfast we agreed that Chantal should get some shopping done – she said no problem with money she had her own credit card account – while I went off for a meeting with the lawyer. We would meet up again lunchtime.

Bret Swartz had his lawyer's office on the main street of the small town and was easy to find. Bret was a wizen elderly man with a crop of grey hair who seemed both happy and relieved that I had finally got there. He said that he had held things together at the ranch and arranged the funeral for the following day and his fees would cost me an arm and a leg has he had not had time to attend to the rest of his business!

He took me through various documents and did convince me that I now owned a legal business with a value of at least $2 million in asset value let alone the goodwill of a thriving business. I also learnt that Uncle Fred had left me the business but his extensive savings had been left to charity although he did not want it known which one. Bret than explained that I needed to sort out the wages and other bills as nothing could be paid until I had signed the authorities etc.

Alarm bells! Have I been stitched up if his cash has gone to charity how do I pay the bills? Bret reassured me by the simple gesture of showing me bank statements for the three business accounts I could now draw on with combined balances of $480k, he added that there were no loans outstanding and all taxes paid to date.

After a visit to the bank, with Bret, to complete the account paper work it was time to meet up with Chantal. I took Bret back to the motel cafe and introduced them and gave her a brief rundown on my morning. I told her she had obviously had a good morning as she was now dressed in a nicely shaped white blouse, nice length checked short skirt and a pair of black boots with reasonable heels and long pointed toes. She had also had her hair done, kinky rather than straight but still with the fringe.

I was wondering if she would come out to the ranch with us but before I brought up the subject she asked "When are we going to go see all your new women than?" Bret took us the 3 miles out of town in his car and Chantal did seem apprehensive and clutched my hand tight all the way out there.

We were both very impressed when we saw what lay behind a sign "The English Ranch" (well uncle Fred was a Brit). A high white wooden fence ran around a huge paddock, a long drive leading to a single story rambling building surrounded by another fence. Behind that there were a couple of small chalets and a larger two story house. Everything seemed to be very well maintained and there were a couple of dozen cars pulled up in the parking area.

Bret parked up and as we walked towards the gate in the inner fence it swung open and we walked up to the main entrance. Two people came out to greet us; the first was introduced as Rita, a woman in her mid forties, well built with "big" blond hair. She was smartly dressed in trousers and heels but her blouse did have some difficulty keeping her large breasts under control. The second was what can only be described as the "huge black man"; stocky build close cropped hair and probably in his forties wearing smart trousers and a white shirt and tie – he was introduced as Marvin.

Bret said he would leave us to get acquainted with the property and the staff and give him a call if we needed anything.

I used the word greet above and this was true they both appeared very pleased to see us and we found them both to be genuinely friendly and professional in the way they filled us in on what they did, Rita was in charge of girls and their duties and Marvin was in charge of the male staff (bouncers) and the other aspects of running the ranch. They said that it had been difficult since Fred died as he took a very "hands on" approach to running the business. Although they both knew all the aspects between them (They had both been with Fred in one capacity or another since he took over the run-down ranch 14 years earlier) they were having difficulty covering everything between them.

The only urgent job was that Marvin got we to sign several cheques, mostly wages, and then he took us on a guided tour, Rita excused herself due to pressure of work. The tour took us well over an hour and Marvin than left us at the house saying he had several things to attend to.

We made coffee and just collapsed the last day had been completely mind blowing experiences for both of us. Chantal asked what I intended to do and I told her I had no idea but would at least keep things running and see if any buyers came to light. I then asked the much more important question "Where are you going to stay, back at the Motel, in the chalet or one of the rooms in the house?"

"That's easy" she said "I don't think I feel very safe in a strange town or in the chalet in the middle of a brothel complex. I've known you long enough to know I'm safe here" the last sentence included a lovely smile and she stretched over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

The following day we met up with the twenty staff that were living on site that night and arranged to go to Fred's funeral. Chantal did ask Rita what arrangements had been made for answering the phone saying that they said they never closed. I thought she was trying to dodge the funeral but she asked if there were any volunteers to man the phone and got one of the girls who had only started a couple weeks ago to do it. Chantal had always been a very professional organiser and staff motivator.

The funeral was to say the least a surprise to us both, held in the local church with what appeared to be half the town in attendance. At the wake afterwards we met all the town businessmen including the lady mayor and it was obvious that the ranch was considered to be as part of the community as say the car dealership. The only indication that it was perhaps a little different was the wake was held in the Motel and not back at the ranch.

That afternoon we spent with Rita and Marvin getting a feel of the day to day running – it was still midweek and quite slow with only six girls appearing for the line up. We had a dozen customers between 2pm and 6pm. In addition to the girls there were 2 bouncers working although one of these worked the bar and one manned the CCTV monitoring the gate and the other feeds.

Chantal was still wearing the dark grey business suit and white blouse she had worn to the funeral but had discarded the jacket; she had on her 3in heel black court shoes. I noticed that any customers that saw her gave her more than a glance although she did not seem uncomfortable.

Over our evening meal back at the house we had time to talk about what Chantal wanted to do with her future. She said she had no regrets about leaving her husband and would be happy to stay here, at least for a while, if I was happy with that. We, and you readers, know my answer to that question.

I told her that I had had a look at the accounts and proposed giving both Marvin and Rita a $5k a year rise each both to keep them on side but also to reward them for their professionalism. I also offered her a job as manager with her looking after the staff issues while I would look after the financial side a split I knew suited both our skills.

Her reply "You want innocent little me who has had sex with just one man in my whole life to be a madam!?" I told her that I had always been impressed with her managerial skills and had no doubt of her abilities and if she could get her head around the fact that it was a brothel to at least give it a try. She reached over and gave me a nice long hug and said "If that's what you want I will be pleased to give a try at assisting you in your pimping, but I warn you that I may not be able to settle in, it requires me to change my whole outlook on life."

That evening Chantal spent several hours with Kitty one of the girls that covered Rita in the main office. This office had a couple of desks and a hatch which looked out on the corridor leading to the rooms and a barred window which gave a view out into the bar area with a view of the line up. When the bar person, one of the male staff for most of the day but during the busy period in the evening female, had a client a button was pressed and a chime rang throughout the complex. As many girls as were free would then line up to offer their services – normally there would be eight or nine girls although fewer if we were busy.

Once chosen the client would be taken to the girls room where she would negotiate what was on offer and the cost. Once agreed the girl would bring the cash or credit card back to the hatch and than get back to business.

I spent my time going over the books in my office which was adjacent. My office was quite high-tech with in addition to the computer etc. had access to the CCTV network. In addition to the camera controlling the gate there was high quality coverage of all the public areas and each of the girls rooms had a low quality feed for their security. These cameras were controlled, and always monitored, from the security office.

One other feature of the office was a shutter on the wall to the right of my desk, when opened this revealed a one way mirror two feet high and four feet wide looking into one of the larger rooms. Although most of the rooms had an attached shower room this one did not. It was also fitted with several high quality video cameras linked to recorders in my office and the ability to turn off the security feed. Believe it or not but I kept the shutters closed most of the time as it was somewhat distracting.

We both agreed to quit at around midnight as we were still suffering from the effects of jetlag and the mental fatigue of our change of circumstances. Over supper Chantal snuggled up to me on the sofa and said she had learnt a lot and surprised herself that she had not felt uncomfortable but admitted that she was somewhat isolated from the business in her locked office. She gave me a very nice kiss and a hug and be went off to, our separate, bed.

The following morning, Thursday, we were both up by 11am and feeling more refreshed we went over to the main building and got a brunch. I don't think I have mentioned the domestic arrangements, there was a small staff canteen which did lunch and an evening meal although the rest of the time anyone had access to the kitchen. The cleaning, including the house, laundry and maintenance was very well organised and could not be faulted.

Chantal spent all afternoon in her office, Rita was working, and I spent most of the time still getting into the books. I must admit that I did watch most of one session thru the mirror, I had seen one of the girls, Kitty a nice little blond, head off with a stocky black guy and thought that watching them would be a good allocation of my time.

At teatime Chantal collected me and we went had a meal in the canteen, she was chatting to everyone and seemed very relaxed. She said she was going over to the house to change as she had organised a turn at her running the bar for a few hours "To get experience of what her staff did." She had had previous experience at bar keeping in her early years but the contrast between the small yacht club back in England and the present location could not have been wider.

She came back from the house dressed in a white blouse, her maroon mini, which seemed to look shorter, and her stiletto black boots. She had put on more makeup than usual and had fuzzed up her hair – the overall effect being very attractive. She came up to me and gave me a twirl asking how she looked, I replied fantastic. She explained that she had borrowed the uplifting bra from one of the girls – it worked well on her small assets, and the same girl had done some tailoring on her skirt while she wasn't busy.

Although I was dying to go and sit at the bar with her I did not want to get in her way and contented myself with watching her on the CCTV. She looked wonderful and I watched for 3 hours while she chatted and laughed with all the customers and obviously had a good time. I did see her have a couple of drinks, which was rare but not unheard of although I have never seen her drunk.

When her relief got in she came into my office and said she had a good evening and everyone was very friendly, some, well most, a little too friendly. Defiantly different to the yacht club; She had brought herself a glass of wine and me a beer and she perched on my desk and asked if I thought it was alright if she opened the shutters.

Kitty was again with a client, a tall white guy tanned with tattoos. Chantal said he was a roofer who came here at least once a week and he had spent ages trying to get a session with her. Kitty had been with him for a while and at the moment was working on his condom covered cock with her mouth. Chantal seemed transfixed just staring thru the mirror she got off the desk and stood nearer.

Kitty than lay across the bed and started playing with her pussy and spreading her legs wider pulled the guy down and he started to fuck with powerful long strokes. Chantal without taking her eyes off the action put her hand behind her inviting me over. I stood behind her and she snuggled her body back against mine and pulled my hands around her waist, she must have felt my hard on it was busting my trousers.

Both Kitty and the guy were working up quite a sweat but I reckon Chantal was sweating more than Kitty. When the guy eventually came Chantal just stood there sweating and than swung around and gave me the most sexy kiss she had ever given me and said we had better go back to the house.

She was silent all the way back to the house but when we sat on the sofa she said this evening had been a real eye opener for her and Christ did she feel randy. She asked me if she should do something about the obvious bulge in my trousers. I said we have been real friends for so long was she sure she wanted to; I did not want our friendship to be compromised. She said we should both have a shower and she would think about it for a while, I went across to the chalet and had a shower thinking that it probably needed to be a cold one.

I came back from my shower and could not see her anywhere so decided to go to bed. When I opened my bedroom door there was Chantal lying on the bed stroking her pussy just as Kitty had earlier, I said are you sure? Her reply was "Of course I wish we had years ago, go for it." After some extremely satisfying sex, well for me anyway although my stamina at my age it not what it used to be I am not sure how satisfied Chantal was, we just lay on the bed cuddling for ages not saying a word.

After awhile she asked me if I thought any less of her and I said "What on earth do you mean I have loved you for years but knew I was too old to keep you happy. If she felt randy enough for a really good fucking she would have to go across to the ranch and do some work." With that she gave me a lovely kiss pulled the sheets over us and snuggled up and we went to sleep. Although we both had plenty on our minds we slept very soundly presumably due to our fatigue.

I was awakened by a kiss and "'Morning bestest friend and now lover come on we have got to get to work." Over brunch we both agreed that we had no regrets about how things were going and our friendship had not been affected. Quite honestly I valued her friendship even higher than the sex.

She than stated that we both had to go into town to see the doctor, everyone who worked at the ranch had to have regular STD clearance even us. Apparently the girls had to be checked on a regular basis and register with the Sheriff's office but Fred had insisted that all staff were checked out which she said was a good practice to continue. I knew it would be no problem for either of us as I had not had a partner for years and she only her soon to be ex husband. (Also I knew she had been "tied" sometime ago so birth control was not an issue for us.)

We took the ranch SUV into town and both went to see the doctor who did me in a few minutes although Chantal did take nearly half an hour. Most of the tests he did gave instant results but he said he would e-mail over the final clearance that evening. I than said I had a few things to sort out with the lawyer and she said fine she had some shopping to attend to.