Brothel: The Magnolia Diaries

by Anthology

  "Yes. When, Elijah?" I leap to my feet, thankful I showered and am that much closer to seeing him.

  "Now. Downstairs waiting on you, Brooke. Ten minutes before I climb to your window to carry you away like Richard Gere." I stop breathing.

  Obviously, we get the jokes all the time. Pretty Woman put stars in the eyes of plenty of whores. Even more Johns. Elijah's not a John. Kind of doubt his fairytale moment is rescuing his whore from the fire escape. And yet...I yank on an oversized sweater that hangs off one shoulder and leggings. Slipping into boots, I down a shot of that pricey whisky and rush down the stairs.

  I skid to a stop when I see him. Fuck he's beautiful. The glasses are there, at the tip of his nose. Hair unruly as shit. Those dark eyes watch me descend the steps, sadness making them hard. I hate it. I cross the foyer to meet him. Right where we met the first time, though it wasn't much of a meeting.

  "Come on, precious." He smirks and I light up and take the hand he holds out.

  There is a sick Aston Martin parked in the round about drive. I know it's his. I know what he wants to do to me in that hot car. I want him to. I have a vision of me spread over the hood of it as he pounds into me; my knees go weak and my pussy soaks. Fuck, he's done a number on me. I hook my arm around his and press my face into his shoulder.

  We climb in then head away from Magnolia house. It's quiet for a while as we drive and I want to touch him. So, I do, which shocks us both. I don't make it dirty which also shocks us. I comb my fingers through his thick hair, smoothing my nails over the nape of his neck. Elijah's eyes flutter. Then his head turns and he kisses the inside of my wrist.

  Moments later we pull up in front of a burnt-out plantation house. It's beautiful in its tragic visage. For a moment, we say nothing but I feel words building between us. Then I'm yanked over the gear shift and we become animals.

  I claw at his leather jacket, wanting to feel his skin against mine. Elijah rips my sweater off and his hands shove up to cup my shoulders. Yanking me down against his lap, he kisses me. Hard and punishing before his hands soften, cupping my bare breasts. Smoothing over my aching nipples. I gasp when he bites my bottom lip then thrusts his hips. I need him and I feel like he needs me.

  "Outside. Fuck me please, Elijah." As if he had the same vision, we're moving. Our clothes fall in a heap by the front fender.

  My back is against the fender, warm from the short drive here. I arch as his fingers dig into my thighs, his mouth at my nipples. Sucking, biting, his hand tending to the other breast. His cock is heavy between my legs and my fingers shove between us. I can barely close my fingers around him he's so thick. I pump a few times but he growls and twists his hips away.

  His mouth is gone, his head diving between my legs. I cry out into the sky, my thighs closing around his thick hair. Elijah eats at me, sweet and soft, his fingers trailing over me. Up, down around then in. Thank Hades, in. Slow pumps of his fingers have me clawing at his shoulders as he sucks at my clit.

  "Fuck. Oh yes. Please, Elijah. I need you." Its desperate and foreign, that word, but I say it.

  "I need you too, precious. I can't...I don't know...open for me, baby." I don't know what he was getting at and as he fists his cock, rubbing the head against my pussy I don't care.

  "Fuck me. Hard, baby. Make it different again." Elijah groans and surges forward, his pretty eyes watching me.

  "Yes. It's fucking different, baby. God, your pussy is so wet for me. So hot...is it wet for me or..." He trails off as pain blanches his face.

  "Elijah. It's different, baby. Nothing else feels like you. No pretending. I promise." I wrap my hands around his wrists as he plants his hands flat on either side of my head.

  "I want you, Brooke. I know who you were, you know I did. I still wanted you. It changes nothing. I don't want to save you because you don't need it. I just want you. Tell me you want me too." With every word, every perfect, sweet, door shattering word, he thrusts.

  "I do. I want you. So fucking much, Elijah." I bow up off the car and he suckles at my neck, my tits, biting marks that I wish could mark me as his.

  "I'm keeping you, precious. Just for me. I will take you to Paris. To New York. The entire world. I will make it different." I sit up, my legs hooked at his hips as I kiss him.

  "Yes. Please. Elijah..." I moan as he cups my ass and pounds into me, making it very different.

  "Come with me, baby. Give it to me. I need to feel you come with my cock inside you again. I need to know it’s different." I bite at his shoulder as I do just that, screaming into the twilight.

  "It's so different."

  And it is.

  Elijah cradles me close in the back seat of his flashy Aston. I cuddle close and kiss him whenever I want to. Comb my fingers through the hair I love so much. Elijah laughs when I slip his glasses on my face. We do more than fuck and fuck around.

  We talk. We talk about my past and his. About our future. Together. I don't know when he flicked the switch that was first turned on inside me five years ago. Elijah did though. I love The Magnolia House. I love Harmony, Calico, Madam and Nicolette and even sometimes Marcus. I don't need it like I did. I need Elijah. Seems Elijah needs me.

  "I want you Brooke. I'm fucking crazy about you. I saw your videos of course. It was that night though. Before I watched you come on camera. It was seeing you in that Parlor; no makeup, smart mouth sweater on your perfect tits. It was the way you smiled at me. I thought I could just pay for a night. Then I heard you come. Saw it and I didn't want anyone else to ever know that sound. See how fucking beautiful you are when you come." Elijah is kissing my neck, holding me tight and I revel in it.

  "Your songs did it for you, Tech Boy. Quirky and cute and so fucking you. I want you, Elijah. Like this. Like we were that first night. I don't want to come for anyone else." We sigh because we both feel like it's right.

  We found something we needed in each other. What we maybe didn't even know we needed. Elijah works for others like Marcus so he doesn't want me for my money. I didn't know I needed it to feel different. Needed soft eyes to watch me as he made me come, made me feel pleasure like I had never touched. We did, though.

  There were a dozen women he could have chosen, both at Magnolia or other Brothels. For some reason, it was me. Just like for some reason, it was him. Of the many men who walked through our doors, it was him.

  I am not entirely thawed because I have doubts, fears. Lying in that back seat, his licorice and leather smell centering me, I am certainly warming up. When he twists our naked bodies on the leather, joking about fucking me in the back like we're in high school, I'm positively hot.

  "Ready for me to break another rule, baby?" Elijah husks before he thrusts deep.

  "Oh shit...yes, break whatever you want. Just put the pieces back right." I moan as he sucks at my neck, marking me again.

  "I... oh shit...I... Brooke...I love you." I come the moment the words leave his lips.

  "Elijah!" I scrape my nails down his back, marking him as I bite at his shoulder.

  Moments later, he's emptying deep inside me, my name on his lips and those words following. I shudder as it melts me completely. Iciness gone. I press my face into his neck, my limbs clutching him to me.

  "Elijah Fucking Lamont. I love your cock. I love your 90's songs. I love your nerd glasses and band tees. I love your thick hair and crooked smile. I love you." I laugh when he growls as he pumps his hips.

  "Fuck that just got me hard as shit. I love you. I don't care who you were before. Now you're mine. Mmm, now ride the cock you love and show me how much you love me." His arm shoves between the seats and music comes on.

  We flip in the tiny space and I moan as he thrusts deep again. I'm still sticky with our cum, our sweat, but I want him even more as a song fills the car. I press my hands to his chest, his cupping my hips as I do just as he asked. I ride his cock and tell him how much I love him.

  I want to knock your block off, get my rocks off/Blow your socks off make sure your G spots s
oft. Damn, LL Cool J knows what's up.

  It's dark when we head into The Magnolia. For the last time. As if Charley is as all knowing as she wants us to believe, she has paperwork ready. Later I find out Elijah was uber confident and told her he'd be taking me home with him. Sneaky fuck.

  After grabbing the bag, I never unpacked this time, I walk down the steps once more. I'm a mess from goodbyes; the girls kissed me goodbye, Calico lingering with some tongue. There were tears. Trixie told me to fuck off, and then gave me a smile. I'm done here.

  I don't know how to do this with Elijah. I don't know if he knows how to date a whore. What I know is as I walk down those stairs and see him waiting for me, I feel every single door swing wide open. I want him and I want to let us both figure this out. Together.

  We're all whores for something. I am a whore for the Tech Boy who melted my iciness with 90’s jams, nerdy charm and a beautiful cock who made it different.

  Oh, I'm still a whore. Now my schedule is booked with one client: Elijah Fucking Lamont.

  The End

  The Lucky Charm

  Written by M. Andrews

  Copyright © 2017 M. Andrews

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Amelia

  The cool air blowing through the open window of my bedroom soothes my sweat-laced skin while I watch the handsome Senator MaCaffery adjusting his tie in the mirror hanging above my dresser. He has a satisfied twinkle in his deep sapphire blue eyes and a boyish grin on his lips. The same pair of lips that, just an hour ago, were devouring my ass. If the great state of Mississippi knew the dirty shit their sweet wonderful Senator was into, they sure as fuck wouldn’t be backing him for the next President of the United States. I, on the other hand, like the sound of being the President’s secret mistress.

  He strides over to the bed with ease and, with a steady hand, glides his fingers over the bare curve of my hip. “I’d like to see you again on Sunday, before I leave for the campaign tour. I need one more night with my lucky charm.”

  The Senator has been a regular of mine for the past four years. He originally came here to shut the doors on Magnolia house. Claiming he wanted to clean up the filth in our city, but, one look at me in my red corset, and Mr. Family Values was singing a new song. In those four years, he went from being on the cusp of losing his seat in the senate, to winning the bid for the next presidential seat.

  “That’s a sweet way of saying you need time with my pussy,” I say flashing him a cheeky grin.

  “This pussy…” He cups me in his hand, a single finger circles my clit. “… has brought me a lot of luck.” He brings his finger up to his mouth and licks it clean.

  “As much as I would like to think that my pussy is magic, it’s sadly not.” I rise to my knees in front of him and straighten his tie. “This campaign was all you, I just helped clear the fog that was keeping you from believing in yourself. I will remember our time fondly when you become the next President.”

  “I may have to have them build you a secret room in the White House,” he says, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear.

  “As tempting as it would be to be the mistress to the great President MaCaffery, my place is here.” His offer is appreciated, but it’s not the first time one of my clients has made a similar offer. These men think I need saving, that a beautiful woman can’t sell her body just for the pure fact that she loves sex, that there has to be something wrong with me. But there isn’t. I grew up in a safe and loving home, with two caring parents who taught me to never settle for the ordinary. A desk job kind of life is not for me. I love sex and I’m damn good at it, so why not get paid for it.

  He slides his hand into mine, brings it to his lips, and gently kisses my knuckles. “One of these days I will sway you to my side.”

  “Good night Senator.”

  He drops my hand and turns for the door. I tilt my head to the side, watching his grade A gorgeous ass walking out my door. I can’t wait for Sunday to come so I can fuck that pretty ass of his again. Senator MaCaffery, what would your constituents think if they knew you liked getting fucked with a strap on? That dirty little secret will live only in my nasty thoughts for the rest of my life.

  I lie back on the bed and stretch my arms above my head. If I didn’t have another client arriving in an hour, I would crash right now after the three-hour marathon the Senator just put me through. The stamina that man has is the reason I run six days a week.

  Reluctantly, I roll out of bed, start collecting the toys from our session, and roll them up in the sheet. I’ve worked at Magnolia for just over four years. Before this, I was working on Wall Street at my father’s investment firm, slowly dying of boredom. So, what makes a girl from Hartford, Connecticut go from working as an investment banker to working in a brothel? A very persuasive man by the name of Marcus Deverux, a colleague of my fathers who saw I was wasting my life managing stock portfolios. He believed my particular talents were best suited for the bedroom rather than the boardroom when he witnessed me in action in my office with one of the interns. After one night at the mansion, I was forever hooked on the high.

  Behind these walls, some of the most powerful men in the country have kneeled before me. Why would I ever want to leave that?

  ****

  Deacon

  “Xander, you are positive this place is discreet? The last thing I need is someone leaking it to the papers that I visited a fucking brothel. I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this,” I grumble into the phone receiver, massaging my temples.

  “I swear your secret will be safe. I never would have suggested this if I didn’t think it wouldn’t be. You need this Deac, it’s our last resort. I’ve heard Amelia has the magic touch.” My manager, in all his brilliant wisdom, is making me visit Magnolia House, all the way in goddamn Mississippi, to spend the night with some woman, who apparently has the magic touch in her pussy. I don’t think fucking some chick is going to give me back the edge that I have lost. But I’m desperate and I will try anything to win.

  I’ve been the welterweight champion for the past three years. I eat, sleep, and drink boxing. I have since I was in high school. It was the only thing that kept me off the streets and out of jail. I grew up in the projects of Chicago. My mother was a school teacher, and my father was in and out of jail because of his nasty temper. His penchant for selling drugs for most of my childhood landed him permanently behind bars after he beat a guy to death during a drug deal gone wrong.

  I, unfortunately, inherited my father’s temper and took out my anger on the shitty hand life had dealt me… on anyone who looked at me wrong. After my last fight, the judge was prepared to bypass juvy and throw my ass in jail. Luckily, the cop that arrested me saw something in me and pled his case to the judge to release me into his custody. Eric saved me that day. He taught me how to channel my rage in the ring. He became a father to me and now I’m letting him down.

  “I still don’t see how me getting pussy is going to help.”

  “If anything, it will change that sunny disposition of yours. How long has it been since you got your dick wet? Do you remember how to use it?” He laughs.

  My eyes roll back in my head. “Fuck you, asshole. Remind me why this girl is worth paying for when I could just nail one of the hundreds of fangirls that throw themselves at me at every fight?”

  “Because that is amateur pussy, you need a professional. You pay top dollar for trainers and physical therapists to keep you at your best in the ring, so why not pay for the best in the sex business, especially if it can help get you back up to the top.” He still
sounds fucking nuts, but at this point, crazy is the only option I have left. “Just go in there and let Amelia work her magic. If this doesn’t work out, you can use me as your personal punching bag.”

  “Can I get that in writing so when the cops pull me off your battered corpse, I can tell them you gave me permission?” I chuckle as the car pulls up to the grand mansion. I hang up with Xander, then climb out of the car before the driver has a chance to open my door. I gruffly tell him to pick me up in two hours. I have to be on a plane to Vegas later for my next fight.

  Stepping through the door, I find a line of women standing before a small group of men being examined like a herd of cattle, while a woman, who I am assuming is the madam, explains the rules of the house to the group of men. I watch as each man chooses his lady. “What the fuck am I doing here?” I mutter under my breath. I’m Deacon fucking Saint, and I don't pay for sex. I turn for the door when a delicate yet firm hand on my shoulder stops me.

  “Leaving us so soon Mr. Saint?” the seductive voice asks. I slowly turn toward the source. My dick roars to life in my pants when I meet her deep brown eyes. Her crimson lips are curled up in the most devastatingly gorgeous smile I have ever seen. “You’re not leaving me for another woman, are you?” She playfully pouts and bats her eyelashes at me.

  “You’re Amelia?” I ask, eyeing her up and down. Her body on full display, the black lace bra and thong she is wearing is leaving very little to the imagination. Driving my mind deep into the dark recesses of filth as my focus lingers on her full creamy tits. Imagining my cum painted across them. My mouth waters for a taste of the hard little peaks forming beneath the lace of her bra. Her alabaster skin makes her look sweet and innocent. What's an angel like her doing in the devils playground?

  “The one and only.” She slides her hand into mine. “Come on handsome, let’s take this somewhere a little more private,” she suggests as she leads me through the foyer, up the stairs to the bedrooms. As we walk along the long corridor, my eyes are transfixed on the seductive sway of her hips, imagining that perfect ass riding my cock. I plan to fuck her in every way possible before the night is over.