Cat Haus - The Complete Story
Read Cat Haus - The Complete Story Online
Authors: Carrie Lane,Cat Johnson
CAT HAUS
The Complete Story
By CAT JOHNSON
writing as Carrie Lane
Working in a cathouse always was interesting, but especially after he walked through the door. Then, everything changed . . .
I'm Cate. Two years ago I was an English major at UNLV. Today, I'm a legal prostitute in Nevada and I was happy with that, and then John arrived. He's a billionaire. I'm a hooker. Now, things are far from simple and I'm wresting with how to mix business with pleasure. How is that gonna work? You can read that for yourself. Cat Haus is our story.
Table of Contents
THE BILLIONAIRE BAD BOY SERIES
FORWARD
Here's the thing about working in a whorehouse—it's probably nothing like what you're thinking, but at the same time, it's exactly like that.
What do I mean?
Well, there's sex, of course. Lots of it. Some of you are probably thinking we working girls just lie there and moan and do the fake porn talk to make the guys feel good, and in some cases that's true. But sometimes we actually enjoy the sex because a strange thing happens to a man when he walks into a place like this. He knows we're with lots of men, that we're professionals, and I guess in some ways that raises the bar for his performance level. He doesn't want to be the one who's too quick on the trigger. And he really doesn't want to be that guy we have to fake it with. So they work their asses—and tongues and fingers off to try to please us even though we're the ones being paid to fuck them. Interesting phenomena, right?
Then,
there are the guys who are just plain bad lays. Unfortunately, my boss is one of them. Gus Haus owns the Cat Haus, the place where I work. One of the perks for him as boss is the free samples, meaning we girls warm his bed, and his cock, whenever he wants us to. Small price to pay, actually, to work in a place of this caliber. You see this is a legal establishment. Clean. Ritzy, even. Fine furnishings. Top shelf liquor. Quality girls who are beautiful as well as tested regularly and guaranteed clean. And for all this the customers pay through the nose. A cut goes to the house, but a decent portion—half—goes to us girls. Add to that the bargain room and board and free Wi-Fi, and it's a pretty sweet deal. One I intend to keep up as long as I can.
Right about now you're thinking I'm nuts for listing all the benefits of being a whore. But I bet when you women think of yourselves having sex for pay, it makes you wet. I dare anyone to not feel that tingle inside while fantasizing about getting naked and spreading for a stranger. Letting him take what he wants. I bet you imagine doing all sorts of nasty things you'd never admit to another living soul, and have trouble admitting to yourself.
You read your romance novels about the debutante being taken against her will by the rogue. Or the virgin co-ed giving herself to the sexually demanding, uber-powerful but emotionally damaged billionaire—you know the story. It sold like a billion copies.
Well, I live out your deepest, darkest fantasies each and every day. Usually more than once a day. Lucky for you, I'm generous and I like to share . . .
PART I
CHAPTER 1
I knew when Gus entered the parlor, partially from the smell of his ever-present cigar. Partly because the gaze of every girl in the room moved to the doorway as they waited to see which one—or two—he'd choose tonight.
"Cate."
That figured. Tonight's lucky winner was none other than me. It wasn't as if I'd already done this a few times tonight. Oh wait, it was exactly like that.
I drew in a breath, pasted on a smile and turned to face him. "Yes, Gus?"
He tipped his head toward the hallway behind him. The hall that led to his bedroom in a separate wing from the girls' rooms.
Gus waited until we'd walked down that long hall, and until we were in his room and the door was closed before he turned to me. "I'm going to have to ask a favor of you."
This was a twist. As I watched him reach beneath the massive bulk of his gut to unbuckle his belt, I had to wonder what kinky shit he wanted me to do that he was asking first.
"Uh, all right. What is it?" I didn't bother getting undressed yet since I wasn't wearing much to begin with. Besides, Gus liked to take my clothes off. I guess it made him feel as if he was doing something to get laid rather than just snapping his fingers and having us girls drop to our knees in front of him because he was our boss.
"I lost some money to a guy in a poker game."
"Okay." I nodded, waiting for the point of this confession.
"A lot of money." Gus was having trouble holding my gaze as he pushed his pants down his skinny, pale legs.
That last part had me paying more attention. If this bastard was going to ask me to borrow money, after all of the income I knew he was making off us girls, I might have to smother him when he fell asleep tonight. Seriously, he was in such bad shape—being overweight and a smoker—it could easily look as if he'd died in his sleep. No one would suspect . . . something to think about. In the meantime, I had a feeling his losing this poker game somehow meant I was about to get fucked by him, both literally and figuratively.
"I offered him an IOU for the cash, but one of the guys in the game told him what I do. Who I am."
Everyone who lived in this corrupt state knew who Gus was and what he did. I continued to wait for the fucking point of this conversation so I could get him off and go to sleep in my own room.
He'd paused in his undressing and stood before me still in his boxers, shirt and black socks. Usually by now he'd be naked and I'd be staring down the barrel of a slightly flaccid penis he'd expect me to rouse. Not tonight. This must be serious.
"He said we'd call it even in exchange for a night with my best girl," he continued.
And there it was. The point I'd been waiting for. Now that I knew what he'd been beating around the bush trying to say, I kind of wished I hadn't heard it. Gus was gambling with the future of the Cat Haus. Hell, with all of our futures. More than that, I'd be the one cleaning up his mess.
I raised one brow, hoping to reason my way out of this. "
I'm
your best girl? You sure about that? Sasha brings in more money than I do. And the guys all love Trina. I bet she's a close second as far as income."
Only because Sasha and Trina took on more clients a day than I did. At the end of a long night I was happier to lay low in the parlor while the other girls worked the room and reeled in the customers. That way I could go back to my room and read. This Cinderella liked to be in bed by midnight, and not in bed fucking, either. It rarely happened that I made it to my room alone much before dawn, but hell, a girl could dream, couldn't she?
Gus swung his head from side to side. "Nope. None of the other girls will do. It's gotta be you."
"Why?" The blondes were always chosen more than me, a brunette. And I had real tits, not fake, so that was another point Gus needed to consider because most guys liked big, fake boobs. Of course, I was kind of petite and guys seemed to like a spinner—you know, a girl small enough he could spin her around on his cock. And my green eyes got a lot of attention, too. Still, I was by no means Gus's best girl—especially if it meant I'd have to do him a favor because of it.
"I chose you because you're smart."
"Smart? What the hell are you talking about? What does that have to do with anything?"
What did IQ have to do with my vast and varied sexual abilities? Besides, I had to think if I were so smart, I wouldn’t have been here doing this since graduating college two years ago.
"Damn it, you know what I mean. You're classy. You got some education under your belt and you talk good."
I'd give him that point. My English degree from the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, or UNLV for short, meant I was educated enough to know that his grammar was atrocious. Still, having good oral skills in my profession generally had nothing to do with conversational ability.
"So you want me to do you a favor?" I crossed my arms and decided if I was the only girl for this job, I wanted something in exchange. "What do I get out of this?"
Gus's face grew red. "You get to keep your damn job here, that's what you get."
His comment had my blood pressure rising as Gus's request for this favor started to sound more like a threat. "Oh, really?"
He let out a long run of obscenities that included the C-word and a few choice slams at my profession, but when I stood my ground, arms crossed and bitch-on-heels attitude firmly in place, he finally nodded. "All right. Fine. What d'ya want? A night off? A week off? Hell, take the rest of the month if you want. Go home to Kansas and visit your parents or whatever."
First of all, I was from Kansas City in Missouri, not Kansas, but I didn't bother correcting him because his suggestion was bullshit. If I don't work, I don't make money, and he damn well knew that. Some other girl would get put in my room and fill Gus's bank account so he wouldn't care, but meanwhile my own pockets would be empty.
"Oh, no. I want some time off from my
gratis
duties."
"Your what?" He frowned.
Apparently I'd confused him, so I explained, "I'll serve my customers. I'll even settle your bet with this guy, but you have to lay off calling me to your bed all the time. I think I deserve that, at least, since I'm saving your ass by doing you this huge favor and all."
A small part of me felt bad about throwing the other girls under the bus because Gus sure as hell wouldn't go without his nightly fuck or suck. With me out of the running, they'd have to pick up the slack, but too bad. They weren't the ones he'd lost in a poker bet. I was.
The concept still boggled the mind. I always knew Gus was a gambler, but this had reached a whole new level. Maybe we girls needed to stage an intervention or leave some pamphlets for Gamblers Anonymous around.
"For how long?" he asked.
I knew I couldn't ask for forever, which is what I really wanted, so I said, "One month."
Gus let out a few more choice cusses before saying, "One week."
I remained steadfast. "Two. Starting now."
"Fine." His scowl told me he wasn't happy about it, but it wasn't my job to make Gus happy, just to make him money. "You should probably get going anyway."
"He's coming here tonight?" After I'd already put in a full day's—and night's work?
"No. You're going to him."
"I’m going to him?" Now I made house calls, too? Jesus, this was getting worse by the minute. "Is that safe?"
Working at the Cat Haus offered us protection that girls working on their own didn't have. That was a huge consideration in my profession.
"Of course, it's safe. He's staying in a penthouse suite that probably costs more per night than you make in a week."
I sighed. "Fine. But you're reimbursing me for my gas and any parking." Because I was thinking unless this guy, who apparently had money to burn since he was in the penthouse suite, threw me some cash by way of a tip, I wasn't going to see a penny from tonight's overtime.
"All right. Whatever. Go change into something nice. Something classy. I'll write down the information for you." Gus looked around the room. He pulled open the drawer of the nightstand, probably looking for something to write with, but I knew from experience the only things in there were toys, condoms and lube.