Cat Haus: Cathouse Cinderella

By Cat Johnson

"oddly fascinating"

A CINDERELLA STORY ... SET IN A CATHOUSE IN NEVADA.

He comes once a month, gives me the best night of my life and then POOF, just like the pumpkin carriage at the stroke of midnight, he's gone.

Cinderella and I have a lot in common. You see, I'm a working girl too, except I work in sex. And there's definitely no fairy godmother hanging around the Nevada brothel.

No glass slippers either, but something brings him back to me every month.

My very own Prince Charming.

If only I had a spell to make him stay...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cat Johnson
• Release date: Jun 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201971397

Cat Johnson

New York Times & USA Today bestselling contemporary romance author Cat Johnson. Sign up at catjohnson.net/news to get new release and sale alerts.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Iknew 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.

This man would be lost without us girls taking care of him. I blew out another breath and went to the dresser against the wall. I'd been in the midst of doing the crossword puzzle in the paper last night when I'd been summoned. Gus wasn't much in the cleaning department and my bet paid off. The folded newspaper and the pen were right where I'd left them.

Here. I thrust both at him, and then grasped on something he'd said before. And what do you mean change into something nice and classy? Is he taking me somewhere? What should I put on? A long dress? Cocktail attire? Business casual? What?

I had assumed I was going to this guy's hotel room to have sex as payoff for the bet, not out to a night at the opera. Though this situation was so odd, who knew? Maybe rich dude wanted Gus's best girl to be his date for some fancy party. Hell, I'd seen Pretty Woman. Working here, stranger things had happened to me in real life than even Hollywood could come up with for the silver screen.

Gus squinted as he scribbled. The man refused to admit he needed reading glasses and he probably couldn't see a thing he'd written. He shoved the paper back at me. What the fuck you asking me for? I don’t know what you should wear. I'm not some queer who knows about women's fashion.

Yeah, because knowing about fashion made a man gay. I rolled my eyes. How this Neanderthal managed to hold on to this establishment for this long was beyond me.

Meanwhile, I still didn't know what to wear. Why am I going to him instead of him coming to me? Are we going out? Did he say what he wanted to do?

What do you think he wants to do? He wants to fuck. Just go put on something decent and get over there before you embarrass me.

Me, embarrass him. If anyone embarrassed Gus, it would be Gus himself. I bit back that comment. I'll figure something out.

I turned to the door when Gus said, If he wants you to stay the night, stay.

All night? How the hell much dough had Gus lost? And how much of it was this guy going to take out of my ass to repay it? For the first time in a long time I didn't feel in control of the situation, and that scared the hell out of me.

CHAPTER 2

Iarrived at the hotel pretty quick. At least I thought so considering I took the time to shower, change, and put on make-up. I'd admit to myself but not to Gus I'd dragged my feet a little bit. I was worried about this deal he'd made, which I was sure I didn't have all the facts on. And extra nervous I was all alone here. No other girls. No security. Not even Gus to protect me if it turned out this guy was a psycho killer with a fetish for working girls.

Of course, I did tend to have a vivid imagination. Most likely Gus was right and the guy only wanted to fuck in the comfort of his own suite. Still, I'd taken more time than I should have at the Cat Haus getting dressed. Luckily the traffic was light getting into town so I made good time. The trip in the car wasn't bad compared to the private elevator ride directly to the top of the building. The thing moved at the speed of light and set off my vertigo in a big way.

Who would choose to be up this high on purpose?

A man who was overcompensating for a small penis, most likely.

Oh, well. At least he would be easy to handle. Not satisfying but easy, and at near midnight, that's all I was looking for.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out, but since the floral carpeted floor seemed to be moving, I took a few seconds to regain my balance before I attempted to make it to the big set of double doors in front of me.

I rang the bell on the thick wooden doorframe. A doorbell—on a hotel room door. So this was what penthouse living was like. It still wasn't worth that hell ride in the elevator, in my opinion.

Seconds turned into what felt close to a minute and I started to wonder if I'd taken too long to get here and this guy had gone to sleep. Or more likely, Gus had fucked up and gotten the wrong night or the wrong hotel. I pushed the bell one more time, feeling horrible that I was disturbing whoever was inside at this hour. If Gus had gotten the information wrong, a whole family could be staying here for all I knew. Kids could be sleeping inside. But then I remembered I'd stopped at the front desk, and they'd directed me to this elevator, even had a bell boy unlock it for me, and all I'd said was Gus Haus sent me.

I heard the lock turn as I was about to pull out my cell phone and try to explain to Gus that if he didn't fuck up, I had by taking so long, and this guy was already sleeping, or possibly passed out drunk inside.

The door swung wide and a vision of one hell of a good looking man stood before me. Cleaner cut than I usually liked—I always did gravitate toward the longhaired rocker or biker type dudes—but hella attractive, nonetheless. He had on dark trousers with black cowboy boots, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned enough I got a good view of a pretty muscular chest.

Nice.

Hi. Gus sent me. My password for the night seemed to surprise him.

One dark brow rose above eyes the color of the deep blue sea. Gus?

Gus Haus. Fat, older guy. Smokes cigars. Owns a whorehouse. Lost me tonight in a poker game against you, apparently. I guess I could have put all that a bit more professionally, but I was enjoying seeing the various expressions cross the face of my hottie in business attire.

You're one of Gus's girls?

I am. Cate. Nice to meet you. I extended my hand and he took long enough to reciprocate that I began to wonder if he would. Right along with wondering if I'd spend the night out here in the hallway. Although, it was a really nice hall. Did you want me to come in?

The question seemed to knock Hottie McHotster out of his stupor. He took a step back. Uh, yeah. Come on in.

Maybe I'd woken him. That would explain the confusion, and why his hair looked all tousled and sexy, as if someone had run their hands through it. Just looking at him sure made me want to run my hands through it. I'd rather die than tell Gus this, but after meeting this man I was looking forward to this job.

I decided to make nice and make sure he enjoyed my company as much as I anticipated enjoying his. After all, I was an ambassador for Gus's Cat Haus. I'm sorry I took so long getting here. I know it's late. You were probably about to go to sleep.

It's all right. I was up working. He tipped his head toward the cavernous space behind him where I could only assume he'd been working on some project or another.

Good. I'd hate to have thought I woke you.

His gaze dropped down my body, spending quite a bit of time on my suit.

Yeah, I'd worn a suit to a private party. I'd paid a fortune for the summer-weight, off-white pants and jacket and I hardly ever got to wear the damn thing. Gus said to dress classy. I dressed classy.

I’m sorry. It's just—you're not what I was expecting. He shook his head, looking baffled. Just to clarify, you, uh, um—

Since he couldn't seem to get the words out, I decided to help him. Have sex in exchange for money for a living?

One brow rose again. Yes. That.

Yes, I do. Did you want me to ask Gus to send another girl more to your liking?

He let out a short laugh. No, that's not necessary.

Not exactly a compliment but I decided to forgive him. He was clearly out of his element here. What the hell Gus had been doing in a high stakes poker game with the likes of this guy, I couldn't figure. But here we were. Maybe my suit had thrown him too much. I did look more like I was here to apply for a bank loan than to get sweaty in bed with him.

If we ever got farther into the suite than the front door so we could get to the bed that is . . .

I unbuttoned my jacket and slid it down my arms to move things along. The lace camisole drew his gaze, as I'd hoped. I was proud of my boobs. They weren't huge but they were a nice size and real. Not many girls in this town could claim the same. I looked around for somewhere to put the jacket. That seemed to knock him out of his trance.

Here. Let me take that. He reached for my jacket.

Thanks, um—What should I call you?

Oh, sorry. I haven't introduced myself. You can call me John.

That struck my funny bone and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. I covered my mouth with my hand but not quickly enough to smother my amusement. He noticed and frowned until realization dawned visibly on his face.

His mouth turned up with a crooked little grin. That's what you call your customers, isn't it?

I nodded, still smiling. Yup.

He moved to the closet just inside the door and slipped my jacket over a hanger, and then turned back at me. It's actually my name, though.

I wasn't sure if I believed him or not, but it didn't matter to me. John it is then. So, John, what are you interested in tonight?

His eyes widened a bit. I don't know. What am I allowed?

I was beginning to suspect this might be John's first time with a girl like me. Sure, most guys had run across strippers over the years, but not many had access to high priced call girls. Whatever you want.

There are no rules? A frown creased the brow above his eyes. After his initial shock at my revealing