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 Randall James had a gift with women.  He could charm them, gain their
trust, and get them to do whatever he wanted them to do.  He was a natural
pimp.  And he had a preference for white women.

   Randall had grown up in a working class, racially mixed neighborhood in
Santa Monica, California.  He did very well in school, especially in
Mathematics and the sciences.  He also discovered the charms of females at
the tender age of thirteen, fingering his first girl and getting a hand job
in return.

   At sixteen, he had a fourteen-year-old Latina girl working for him.  He
would take the girl down to a rough section of Santa Monica where the young
teens would hang.  He would charge the twelve- and thirteen-year old boys
ten dollars to feel her boobs and finger her.  If they wanted a hand job in
return, the cost was twenty dollars.  Randall always had plenty of spending
money.

   By age nineteen, Randall had three girls working the streets.  But the
street scene was much to rough for Randall's style.  There were other
pimps, and they protected their territory.  Randall, at age nineteen, had
killed another pimp to protect one of his girls.  He was never arrested and
charged, although he was a prime suspect for a while.  And then there were
the drug lords who made life miserable for everyone.  Randall decided there
had to be a better way.  He left Santa Monica and headed for Las Vegas,
never looking back.

   Randall took a break from pimping, and enrolled at UNLV.  He did honors
work in Mathematics, getting his B.S.  in three years.  He then stayed on
for three more, doing some independent study and getting an M.S.  When he
completed his Master's, he was offered a teaching position at CCSN, which
he accepted.  He liked teaching Mathematics, but the pay at community
college was terrible.

   In that interval, he sampled the white women on campus, finding a few
that would do anything he asked if he treated them correctly.  He also
discovered that prostitution was legal in Clark County, Nevada.  High-class
and good-looking young women could make a lot of money as an escort.  If
their clientele were rich and upscale, a girl could make five hundred
dollars a night just for dinner and a show.  Anything else after that was
negotiable.  All that the girl needed was a broker.

   Randall also learned that there were a lot of middle-aged black men with
money to burn or credit cards who liked to do nasty things to young white
and Asian girls and that these black men were willing to pay.  Randall had
found his market niche.  He set about setting up his business.

   He purchased a four-bedroom rancher in North Las Vegas for the escort
business.  He kept his apartment by the community college.  He set up an
Internet connection, a credit card interface, and posted pictures of his
girls on the web for prospective customers.  He also worked deals with some
of the smaller and more exclusive hotels that were known for discretion. 
Girls needed protection, so he hired some huge fellows who were handy with
their fists to protect them.  There were also cameras installed in the
bedrooms of the rancher.  If a customer got rough with a girl, a few
cracked ribs and some missing teeth settled him down.  If slept with the
girl at the house and got rough, the pictures got sent to his wife. 
Randall protected his girls.

   He bought cell phones for all of his women, and one for himself.  He
liked to be able to talk to the girls and have them contact him whenever it
was necessary.  After about six months, the business succeeded.  Randall
split sixty-forty with his girls, giving them the forty.  But he never
really got a full sixty percent, as he was buying the girls jewelry and
clothing so they looked great for the customers.  And, of course, there
were the bills.  But a five hundred dollar fee, just for dinner and a show,
quickly grew when the options where added in.  Randal and his girls were
making a ton.

   Randall's technique for bringing a girl into his stable was simple but
effective.  He would strike up a friendship with the girl, dating her,
buying her gifts, and becoming her lover.  He could "read" women, knowing
exactly what they liked in sexual terms.  He would drive them crazy.  He
also fit the stereotype of the black man who liked women.  He had a nice
body with no fat, his skin color was a deep and dark black, and he had a
huge cock.  He could stay hard for an hour and was good for three a night.
Since Randall exercised, kept his drinking to a minimum and did not smoke,
his body was in great shape and he was sexually able to drive the women in
his stable crazy.

   After he became the woman's lover, he would organize a party at the
house.  Usually he would invite his girls, some regular customers, and the
bodyguards.  All of the girls would wear sexy clothes.  The party would be
social, girls and guests mingling and chatting.

   As the party progressed, one of his regulars would want to try out the
new girl.  Randall would ask the girl if she wanted to make five hundred or
a thousand dollars.  If the girl said yes, Randall would tell her that she
had to go into a bedroom and have sex with one of his customers.  If the
girl balked, Randall would take her home after the party and never see her
again.

   If the girl said yes, Randall would hook her up with the customer a put
her in a bedroom.  This was a freebie for a regular customer.  Randall
would pay the new girl out of his own pocket for the service.  With most
girls, Randall was able to get them to say yes after a few minutes
conversation.  Of course, he would store the girl's activity with the
client on a hard drive in the basement.

   Once the girl had sex at the party, Randall had her.  The girl liked the
easy money, and Randall would add her to his stable.  He had already taken
some revealing photos of her before the party, and he would post those
photos on the web page.  The girl would be added to the list of those
available to escort service.

   Randall never overworked his girls.  Most girls saw men three, or, at
most, four times a week.  Some of the girls only saw customers twice a
week, and some didn't have sex but were only eye candy draped over the arm
of a middle-aged black man.  It was a good way to make money.  And, of
course, there was the occasional freebie for a good customer of Randall's.
Randall paid the girl out of his own pocket for those dates.

   This, then, was the man Sue was calling when she punched his number into
her cell phone.  Before Randall was done with her, she would become a
regular escort, servicing only black men, and letting them do anything to
her they wanted.  And she would learn to love it.