Note: I’m leaving some details out for brevity. The whole story is actually pretty funny, but I’m going to try to stay at least vaguely on-topic.
Okay. I was in Reno. My first ever GF, who I’d been dating for 5 years, (Without ever having sex, mind you) had recently dumped me. My rather worldly friend decided that I needed to go do “guy stuff” to get over it. Since we were in Reno, and we’d both heard of the Mustang Ranch, we decided we ought to go “just to have a look.” But we didn’t know where the hell it was, and as I remember it it we couldn’t find it in the phone book. (We tried looking under “prostitution” in the yellow pages, you’d think it’d be right there… There were plenty of outcall services under “Escort” that are apparently tolerated in Reno, but official brothels apparently are not allowed inside Reno city limits) So, being geeks, we thought, “What would we do if we were in a role playing game?” The obvious answer was to find someone who knew about such things: A cabbie. So we spotted a cab, and I told my friend “Please, please, don’t embarass me. Don’t be crude.” So we approached the cabbie, and my friend said something like “The strip clubs around here are nice, but we’re looking for something more hands-on.” The cabbie said “You mean PUSSY?” I have no idea why I thought anything my friend could say would shock a cabbie.
Anyway, the cabbie told us where the ranch was (In Mustang, outside Reno) and told us it was okay, but the Old Bridge Ranch, just down the road from the Mustang, was much better. He advised us of the set up and how to proceed. We thanked him, and he even declined accepting a gratuity from us. I guess he considers getting young men laid part of his civic duty.
We drove out to the Mustang Ranch. There’s a gate where you have to press a button to open the gate. What this does is ring a bell or flash a light or something (I can’t remember) that alerts the girls inside that there’s a customer on his way in. When we opened the front door, all the girls (minus the ones that were busy at the time) were lined up, and the hostess greeted us and said “Would you like to choose a girl?” On the advice of the cabbie, we said no, and plonked ourselves down at the bar.
The Mustang, at least when I was there, had a lobby vaguely oval, with a high ceiling, everything was painted white, and it was brightly lit. It seemed very clean, in fact, almost sterile. The bar was in the center of the room, and there were restrooms in back. Girls sat around on various sofas around the edge. What’s that? You want to hear about the girls? Okay then. They varied in attractiveness from decent looking to beautiful, with most of the range towards the top. They were dressed provocatively, but not scandalously. They wouldn’t have been terribly out of place at a somewhat risque club. While I toddled off to the bathroom (for purely bladder-related reasons, I assure you) some girls came by and hit on my friend, and he delicned. We hung out for a bit, watching some kids come in and dare each other to go for it. I was hoping more women would come by, but none did, apparently deciding that my buddy and I were cheapskates or something. So, knowing about the Old Bridge Ranch, we drove over there.
We went through the same routine on the way in with the lineup of girls, but that’s where similarities ended. Rather than a brightly lit, high-ceilinged, sterile room, it was a small, intimate space, with the sort of dim lighting appropriate for a bar. There was a jukebox in the corner playing rock, and the girls were dressed in lingerie. There were plenty of absolutely hot women there. (There was one in a fringed bra and thong with a body to die for…OMG) Some of them didn’t seem interested in us (My friend and I were both young, fit, and reasonably good looking, so that wasn’t the deal) but others made a serious effort. As we sat at the bar, we chatted with four or five of them. They are, of course, real people, and just as interesting to talk with as anyone else. We went through several drinks (I was driving, so it was just coke for me) and after several hours, we were actually getting a little inured to the idea of hot women in lingerie hitting on us. When they hit on us, of course, there’s pretty much no touching. One might put a hand on your knee or shoulder, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m pretty sure there are laws forbidding otherwise. And what they want is to have you come back to a private room to negotiate what you want and how much it costs. As it was explained to me, the brothel doesn’t employ the women. They’re private contractors, and they get to set their own rates. Anyway, I finally ended up going back to a room with a woman who wasn’t the most attractive one there, but certainly was very persuasive. I had been curious what her prices were, but neither she nor the others would discuss prices at the bar. She said “Just come back to the room, I can tell you what sort of prices I have, and you can always say no.”
Okay, so much for brevity. I’ll post more on this if there’s interest; for now my fingers are tired from too much typing, and I think this message pretty much addresses the questions in the OP.
