The first lesson I learned about the Mustang Ranch was to write the directions to it down. It may be 15 minutes outside the Reno-Sparks city limits, but that’s far enough for your GPS to cut out. So don’t be like me and be the gay travel writer on assignment having to go into the Chevron gas station and ask what exit you have to take to get to the local brothel.
And then it was lessons galore when Riley, my knock-out of a guide, appeared. Let me first say that she had the best legs in the place, not least of which because she’s mastered the fine art of the see-through stiletto platform open-toed high-heel.
In the industry since the 80’s and a grand dame if there ever was, Riley is a veritable encyclopedia of not only how a brothel works, but how it should. For example, the Mustang is run by the girls; Tara, the madam, was herself an entertainer (don’t use the term “prostitute”). Consequently, no matter who you are, how much money you throw around, or what your fantasy is, the women of the Mustang Ranch will always be the ones in charge.
And once you get that through your head, the world is your oyster!
Straight, gay, bi, male, female, transgender, singles, groups, couples, vanilla, BDSM, fetish and everything in between — if you want it, the ladies of the Mustang are happy to provide (and have seen it all already, so don’t be shy). Safety and discretion are paramount, and judgements are left at the door. Riley had all sorts of stories, to the guy who asked one of the women to help him put together a dollhouse; to one fellow who, having a thing for legs, lay flat on the floor and had a particularly fit girl dance over him; to the client who asked to have his lady dress up like a flamingo; to clueless spouses who have no idea what to get their partners for Christmas. As it happened, a lot of what goes on at the Mustang has zippo to do with sex.
But, of course, a lot of it does. Riley laid out the whole process: a client comes in, sees or asks for a particular entertainer or asks for a “line-up.” And here is where I found-out just how sprawling the ranch really is. Turns out, the lounge where I first met Riley is not the Mustang; technically, it is the Wild Horse Saloon. No business goes on here aside from drinks and a (relatively) innocuous good time. Not counting the nude cabaret, of course.
Instead, I was taken through a firewall complete with a door requiring a secret electronic code. And then I was in the selection room of the Mustang Ranch.
Like the rest of the ranch, this large, airy, suggestively-lit room is decorated in a tasteful Old West style (a LOT of antlers; Gaston would be proud). There is a line of six comfy armchairs, classy pics of the Winged Nike and Michelangelo’s David, and a little merchandize counter. Opposite the chairs is a mirrored wall so you can check out the staff both front and back.
Once you’ve made your choice, you still aren’t out of the woods because now the matter of price must be dealt with. You don’t get something for nothing, after all. So what happens next is that you and the lady of your dreams go to a cozy side room (through another coded door) and you lay it out on the table what you would like to do. If she agrees, and the price, which varies from client to client, is right, it’s off to the races.
Most of the rooms at the Mustang are fairly straightforward, although the beds are particularly high (maybe so men can stand to their full height?) but if you are a little more specific, or well-monied, you have themed rooms. Asian, Cowboy, Dominatrix, Mardi Gras — what gets you going? The Mustang has 29 rooms of all sizes, is 24/7/365, and can have up to 100 women on site, so prides itself on fulfilling any fantasy. Never underestimate the power of the right setting with the right entertainer; simply be honest about what you are into and you will enjoy yourself so much more.
What really struck me was just how neat everything was. The Mustang has its own cleaning staff that keeps everything spic-and-span; it’s just one ways the ranch keeps everything on the even keel. The sex industry may be legal in Nevada, but the various brothels are watched like hawks by the legal authorities and uptight no-fun conservatives alike for any screw-up. Tara and Riley give no quarter; the Mustang Ranch and its entertainers are equally presentable. No druggies, no legal issues, no diseases, no woman is there under duress, there is a dick-check for the men — I don’t think weapons laboratories are this fastidious with staff and infrastructure.
And if you want to know more, you gotta wait for Part III!