Dropping the Polish Hammer: Two Weird Nights at the Bunny Ranch
December 11th, 2008by Reno J. Romero
LAS VEGAS, NV -
I’ve never paid for a hooker.
Never thought of it, really. But I’ve known a few people that have. I even worked with a waitress that once worked at a brothel. I think it was in Sparks.
“Every man should have a hooker at least once,” she told me.
Maybe she was right. Maybe a man should have a hooker at least once. What did I know? I’ve heard stories. Never heard a bad one. All delivered with a smile.
A friend stationed at Camp Pendleton. Got shellacked and skipped over to Mexico for a little nookie. Crazy dude in town from El Paso. Too drunk to make the long haul to the Bunny Ranch but hit a brothel in Pahrump.
“Got me some strange,” he said.
Last week I saw a couple of episodes of the hit documentary Cathouse. For those of you that haven’t heard of Cathouse it’s a behind-the-scenes look at the Bunny Ranch - the infamous brothel here in Nevada. It’s just outside of Carson City, around seven hours from Vegas.
Some people think prostitution is legal in Vegas. Like you could just pull your car over and get a hand job right in front of the Bellagio while Mrs. Crabtree walks by. No. You can’t. Get busted hustling sex in Vegas and you get arrested. Get a nice picture taken of you by Metro.
I used to bartend at a restaurant that had a cop crowd. They enjoyed busting men paying for sex.
“Sum-mile, Mr. Married.”
Prostitution is illegal here in Clark County. You have to go to Esmeralda County, Pershing County (there are others) if you want to see some legal action. The fuzz won’t hassle you in those counties. Just one less thing they have to concern themselves with.
The Cathouse is your typical reality TV series (minus the dildos, the naked girl parts, etc). They interview the Bunnies. They film their day-to-day doings. There’s some drama. Same ol’ thing.
The only exception is that it’s porn.
They actually show the bunnies having sex. I didn’t expect this. My first thought was: who and the hell would agree to be filmed, their junk whipping around for all to see? What kind of John are we dealing with here? Since when do they want to be filmed?
The inside of the Bunny Ranch looks cheap. Red velvet couches. Skinny bar. Wood and mirror paneling. Popcorn ceiling. The outside is worse. White paint. Gravel landscape.
It’s essentially a ranch-style house with a lot of rooms. They just knocked down a few walls, nailed in a long hallway, and squared in some rooms and crappers. That’s it. Boom: Instant brothel.
I guess I was looking for something more. A two-story building wrapped in neon. Some saloon music jangling through the desert (when I think of brothels I think of cowboys). Women walking around in chaps.
Assless chaps.
It was like I pulled up to the house I lived in when I was in high school. Except that house was a hell of a lot nicer.
The man that owns the Bunny Ranch is named Dennis Hof. He has a beer gut and is bald as a stone. He smokes cigars and sleeps with a few of his employees.
One of them being Brooke Taylor.
College graduate.
Rips on a French horn.
Short blonde hair.
She’s one of the stars in Cathouse.
“I don’t date civilians,” Hof says.
Civilians: Non-hookers.
He calls himself “Daddy D” and claims that the brothel has got a lot of students through college. He also claims that his girls are the best looking women in the world. I don’t know. Maybe they are.
To get some action at the Bunny Ranch is as easy as buying a smoothie. You pull up, ring the doorbell, and they buzz you in. Then you’re given a “menu” and you pick out a girl (or girls) from a line-up. Then you shuttle off to her room and work out a deal.
A sex deal. That’s it.
The menu is just that. A menu. These are all the services the girls provide. From appetizers to entrees if you will. Pure heaven. All hell.
Love at the Y: Uh, oh. Calling Gene Simmons.
Viagra Party: Pop pills. Put on some Al Green.
Full French: Been to France. I’m in.
Overnight Stays: Play boyfriend/girlfriend. Do a little porking. Spoon till the rooster crows.
Hand Relief Party: Let’s hope her day job isn’t a mechanic gig.
The place is big-time. World famous.
They endorsed Ron Paul.
Carrot Top hangs out there.
(I waited on him years ago. Crazy-looking fucker. Polite. He devoured a plate of nachos.)
They have a pregnant Bunny and one that’s currently taking bidders on her virginity.
It’s a party.
In the first episode some dude walked in. He wanted two women. Cool, I thought. A stallion. But the stallion didn’t want sex. He wanted to wrestle with them. As in wrestling.
Knee Pick.
Fireman’s Carry.
Mule Kick.
That sort of thing.
What, no warming up with a little Champagne Party? Then teeter Around the World?
The footage is hilarious. Three asses in thongs (yes, the dude was wearing a thong) tumbling all over the place. They oiled each other, grabbed each other by the neck, the leg. They tugged on each other’s undies delivering deep-trench wedgies.
I didn’t get it. It seemed odd to me. Why go a brothel and not have sex? Was it a matter of economics? Did the stallion not have enough cash to go all the way? Maybe he didn’t like sex.
“I like sex, dickweed. But I also enjoy a little Wishbone Leg Splitter when the time is right.”
In the second episode there was another dude that wanted two women and no sex. What? We wanted the girls to fool around with each other as he watched. A voyeur. They felt each other up, took out some toys, and he stood at the end of the bed and jacked off. Bingo.
Not my thing, but hey.
Celebrate diversity!
One girl said that some men come in and all they want to do is hug.
Hug.
Some of us will pay cash money to saddle up to a woman, give her Eskimo kisses. For others that’s not enough. That’s just another case of blue balls.
I just can’t see myself driving out to a remote ranch-style house in the middle of the desert and paying to watch a couple of girls screw each other. I can’t. Or pay for a couple of girls so I could drop the Polish Hammer on them.
I’m boring that way, I guess. Insular. Obvious. Dull. I have to think outside of the box.
Back rubs.
Wrestling.
Mix it up a little.
I told my wife what I saw. Told her about Hof and his stinky cigars. The blonde with the French horn. The guy and his peter at the end of the bed. The Rock.
“Wrestling, huh?” she said.
“Just like Ric Flair.”
(I met Ric Flair in Charlotte. Very cool dude. Didn’t devour a plate of nachos but was drinking sweet-tea.)
I don’t think I could ever go to a brothel (well, I’m married so that complicates things). Or to some girl on the street for that matter. It’s just something I would never do. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s my Christian upbringing. Maybe it’s because I’m no longer a Christian.
Perhaps, it’s a moral thing.
Maybe, it’s a matter of preference.
Who knows.
Who cares.
But I doubt that the Bunny Ranch will miss me. They’re doing just fine. The porn business is big business. Millions, even billions of dollars are dished out every year in the United States from magazines to human beings.
Sex is happening.
Desire Under the Elms.
No nukes.
Just nookie.
Tags: Add new tag, Ass, Assless Chaps, Bingo, Blondes, Blue Balls, Brooke Taylor, Brothel, Bunny Ranch, Camp Pendleton, Cathouse, Cigars, Daddy D, Dennis Hof, El Paso, French Horn, Fuzz, Gravel, Hand Relief, Menu, Mrs. Crabtree, Mule Kick, Nachos, Neon, Nukes, Oil, Peter, Porn, Reno, Reno J. Romero, Ric Flair, Ron Paul, Sex, Shellacked, The Rock, Viagra, Wedgies
Interesting–I had never heard of the Bunny Ranch. I’m not much up on prostitution or porn, I admit. I have nothing against either in theory, but have never found either very compelling. It bugs me a little that this is such a typical chick attitude, and that I am falling into a stereotype, but there it is.
Every guy I know likes porn. Gay guys, straight guys, married guys, single guys, old guys, young guys. A friend of mine who worked at a video store in high school once waited on my father taking out a porn flick!
One of my best friends in grad school was all about hookers. He slept with plenty of civilians, too, but had a real fondness for professionals. He prided himself on being a good, fun customer. I never got it. I’m not sure how someone could pay for sex. It seems like the most embarrassing thing a person could do. But I get that clearly this isn’t how a lot of people feel, especially men.
It’s a chasm: people who would, and people who wouldn’t. Both have to tolerate the other, I guess. I don’t think it really is a huge moral thing (in the sense that I don’t think the “paying” part is what would make a particular sexual encounter wrong, if it were wrong. I mean, if a guy is married, paying for a hooker isn’t necessarily more wrong than picking up a woman for free at a bar. Etc.) I just think it’s something that holds vast appeal to some, and no appeal whatsoever to others.
I heard there’s some island now, in the Caribbean, where rich older women go to hire hotties to fuck and hang out with for the duration of their holiday. Is it Barbados, maybe? Has anyone else heard of that? It’s supposedly quite well known. I think Travel & Leisure even ran a piece on it once. It shattered a lot of the gender stereotypes, which was interesting. Though it was also interesting that women who want to pay for sex often do something as extreme as leaving the country to do so . . .
Gina - I don’t know about real life (which explains an awful lot), but there’s a beautiful French film: Vers le Sud (Heading South) about older women hiring beautiful, young men as ‘companions’ in Haiti…
thanks for the comment, gina. personally, i’m on the fence w/ the legalilization of prostitution. by nature i’m one of them live-and-let-live types. i don’t like hassling people. i don’t like policing human nature.
but there is an ugly side to it. i had a friend set me straight: health concerns, doesn’t alleviate “street prostitution,” human trafficking, social/psychological issues, etc. it is not a pretty story.
the answer is not so easy. it doesn’t look like it’s going away either. so.
i’ve heard of those island/hooker destinations. actually, i saw something about it a long time ago. hey, if there’s a need there’s a product. that goes w/ everything it seeems to me. anyhow, gina, take care. good luck w/ your publishing issues.
okay,
reno
I’m kind of a live-and-let-live type person, too, which is why I’m also on the prostitution fence. With regard to the “ugly side” of prostitution in its current form, I agree with you 100%. It’s a nasty, harsh life that most “working girls” live. But sometimes I think that a lot of the “ugly side” of the business is directly related to the fact that it’s illegal in most states or counties. It seems like legalization could take a lot of the nastiness out of the business.
Let’s face it: prostitution will be around until the end of time. You could come back to this planet ten thousand years from now and dudes will still be cruising Main Street looking to get a knob-shine from somebody named Desiree.
So if you can’t stop it, why not just legalize and regulate it? I mean, could it really get any worse? Why not just turn it into a legitimate industry? Pass legislation that requires “operations” to take place in safe facilities that are inspected medically to ensure a clean, safe environment. Tax the ever-living-shit out of it, and allocate those tax dollars towards something good, like, I dunno… AIDS research, maybe.
Legalization would certainly not solve all the problems, there’s no doubt about that. And I am no proponent of prostitution. It just seems to me like the girls at the Bunny Ranch are a lot safer than your typical “working girl” on the corner.
jackson-
say, bro. first, thanks for reading. the prostitution debate is a heavy one. i don’t have the answers. i have read that even the legalization of prostitution has its problems. one of them being human trafficking. which is even gruesome to write. anyhow, joshua, it goes on and on. drugs. police/state/country corruption, etc. i wish there was an easy solution.
anyhow, you nailed it: i think the bunny ranch thing is a little safer. the key word be a LITTLE safer. have a good sunday and thanks again.
nookie,
reno romero
Yeah, good points.
Reno.
I can’t believe I actually clicked the link for Edward Penishands…
…and that it was real.
The mind reels.
Porn is weird. I was just reading an article about a brothel in Berlin where if you agree to have sex on camera (so others can watch via a live feed) you get your money for nothin’ and your chicks for free.
If I remember where I saw it, I’ll come back and link it.
sorry, kimberly. bad, ugly link. i remember the video because i was a manager for the wherehouse when it came out.
edward penishands…
for the love of god.
take care, kimberly.
r
Style brother, you got it.
Pay to wrestle?
Makes me appreciate all those old co-ed cage matches in the skating rink
jump house.
pay to wrestle. you bet. hey: some people are into it. i guess. what do i know, 11? the show left me stumped.
but i’m one of them filthy all-or-nothing animals. i need a priest.
suplex baby,
r
Got me some strange.
God, I love that.
steal it. it’s all yours daddy-o.
thanks, listi.
r
Reno,
I think that all chaps are assless.
I was afraid to click on Polish hammer because I couldn’t imagine what it was, but the motel server is really bad so I’ll have to wait till I get back home to click on your blue stuff.
Good for you not going to a prostitute, Christian or non-Christian reasoning.
I have a prostitiute story from my husband, but this computer is awful.
(I don’t have any personal prostitute stories, thankfully.)
yes, chaps are all assless. but i’m talking about the ones that young lady is wearing. what do you think of those babies, eh? too hilarious.
(could you imagine going to a party and seeing this fucker moving around, yapping it up?)
i would have died.
oh, the ever-so-popular Polish Hammer.
click on it, zion. i dare you. i double dare you.
have fun in new orleans. take pictures. buy me a shrunken head for x-mas. tell ann rice i said hello.
fangs,
r
Damn Reno, I was running with a buddy of mine nine years ago in Vegas on a vacation. We decided to hit Death Valley for the day. Beautiful place. On our way back, we looped through Pahrump looking for the Bunny Ranch. No wonder we couldn’t find it. Drove by the chicken ranch though. Yes, that too looked like a shithole from the outside. (We hit Chili’s for a burger in Green Valley and told our tale to some of the old crew we knew and loved.)
I see many comparisons to whores and the Detroit Lions–both screw you for money, but for some odd reason, we will always love sex, and our home football team, no matter how meaningless it seems.
Merry Christmas to you, your family, and all of your devoted readers. We will hook up in May!
lyons-
i remember i was driving back home to vegas (from portland) and stopped in some small town outside of reno. i figured, what the fuck, i’m only a few hours away from vegas and stepped into a bar and ended up getting tanked.
that’s when i found out that i had one hell of a drive in front of me. i slept in my car. woke up and cranked pantera all the way home. real lame. lame x10.
see you in may. i’m here. but shit, lyons, let’s get to the playoffs first, eh? then will talk hot vegas nights. shots of turkey, eggs benedict.
your mexican pal,
j
when i hear ass-less chaps i think = brad listi
carrot top scares me
when i lived in Incline Village, N.Lake Tahoe i met a woman that worked at the bunny ranch. i didn’t believe such a place existed. when the show came on the air i had to watch it. i didn’t expect it to be so explicit. but as reality shows go… it’s one of the best ever.
taboo, people’s dark desires played out, people trying to find their self worth, people trying to find that feeling, fill up that void… not that void, silly - the other void, the one in their heart.
its like watching the saddest people on earth put on a circus.
tammy told me i could get big bucks for my virginity there.
i laughed
now i know she wasn’t kidding
great post, j
for you, eskimo kisses on the house
xx
i’d be scared of carrot top, too. he’s buff. has weird eyebrows and whatnot. i heard some ugly stories about him. likes to…anyhow…
yes, the bunny ranch exists. it’s alive. never been there. but if they offered me a walk-thru i’d be happy to oblige.
i don’t know why people go to hookers. brothels, street gals, whatever. i’m sure there’s a story there. i’m sure it satisfies something. i just never had the guts to do it. but then again, i never thought about it. and i thought about a lot of stupid shit. in fact, it could be argued that i think/thought of more lame shit than stuff w/ substance.
i’m cheap that way.
generic.
please forgive.
well, jos, if you ever feel like you want to cross to the dark side and give up your virginity than i’m sure you’ll get top dollar.
let me know how you feel about this. if it’s a green light then i’ll be your manager (i’ve been known to “freelance” before). i’ll make some calls, see what’s doing. you know where to find me.
we’ll hit the free press, myspace. god the possibilities…
pimplicious,
t-bone reno
Do you hear that Reno? When she thinks of assless chaps, she thinks of me.
think they’ll let us in on a “press pass”?
“god the possibilities”
you make me laugh
do you even have a pimp hat?
I have a pimp hat. Complete with feather. You guys can borrow it.
Sex or no sex. I just love it when you post, Reno.
thank you, my friend. have a rock and roll weekend. can’t wait for the return of rudolph.
r
Reno,
Funny you should post this this week. I am currently reading letters my grandfather wrote in 1928, while sailing around the world on a five-month “joy ride” working as a deck hand on a freighter. And I’ve run into some things that have me shocked, admiring and otherwise. One is on the subject of this post, so I will share.
He is writing this letter to his parents and sisters, mind you:
“You get so terribly lonesome at sea for female companionship that I can’t blame sailors very much for getting it in the only way open to them when they get to port and are a little drunk. You (father) are probably able to understand what a sailor means by “having a good time” because I imagine the miners at Wakefield felt about it in very much the same way, but its something new and interesting and a little depressing to me. It’s perfectly natural though; there’s no element of degeneracy in it, and its surprising how few dirty stories and insinuations you have to listen to. I’m not sure that one of the most valuable things about living with a group of men like this isn’t learning more thoroughly than would otherwise be possible that sexual promiscuity is not a voluptuous luxury, made more attractive because it is forbidden, but the most meager substitute for something that is natural and right in a normal life.”
Jennifer,
It is clear to see where from your own beautiful writing springs.
but the most meager substitute for something that is natural and right in a normal life.”
Wow.
say, jen. wow, great letter. a little piece of history. i’ve known a lot of military men. after high school many of my friends suited up. their stories are wild. i saw some crazy pics, too. sex is happening. people loce it. never going out of style!
take care, jen. hope all is well.
r
I once worked with a lady, who then was in her late 40s while I was about 24, 25ish. She commuted into the city from the suburbs, drove a minivan, had mom jeans and mom hair, dropped endings off her words so she sounded a little rough.
She asked me to lunch one day and I though, hey, sure, likely to be boring but why not? I figured we’d chit-chat about the office, talk about how her boss was a jerk, things like that.
Ohhh ho ho no. She wanted to tell me that she’s a swinger, often picks up dudes while flagging them down on the highway then pulling over at rest-stops for some action, that she and her husband often bring other couples over while her kids are sleeping at the grandparents’.
She also wanted to tell me that she had “a lot” of experience with women, but only with dudes on the scene too. And that, for instance, if I ever wanted to, well, she’d be up for it, just she and I, without her husband there watching.
Folks. You never can tell what they’re going to be into.
It freaked me out a bit, mostly because she looked like she could be my mother (if you added on 10 years), which means all along my parents’ perfectly “average” life could have involved sending my brother and I to Grandma’s while they had the Smiths over for “dinner”.
geezus. swingers? crazy. i knew a married couple that were swingers. the wife loved me. i was a bartender at the time and she’d always sit at my bar, flirt, all that.
the dude finally came up to me and said: “reno, my wife likes you, bro. i think you should take her out…’
i was mortified! he wanted me to hump his wife? AND he knew my girlfriend who is now my wife!
people are crazy, amanda. plain crazy!
thanks for reading.
r
Yep, swingin’, it takes all kinds. A swingers’ club opened down the block from my place last summer and is still going strong. I shudder each time I pass it after dark, imagining what all is going on in there…
I worked in a rest home in my youth. One of the clients that I cared for was an old prostitute from the 1930’s suffering with dementia. Any time a male staff member would enter her room she would come unglued and start yelling; “Get the fuck out!” “I know why your here and what you want from me you dirty little bastard!”
Sometimes the poor old thing would see men coming out of the nooks and cranny’s in her room and would have to be sedated for the rest of the night.
A couple of years later while living in a small well known west coast town constantly full of visiting rich horny old men. I would be approached on a regular basis and offered large amounts of cash in hand to “spend time” with these rich old men.
Every time I was approached by one of these old desirous men wanting a taste of my sweet youth, I would think of that poor old prostitute and scurry on down the road past them never looking back in their direction.
Truth be told, A few times in my life I could have really used the damn cash too, but my memories of that old dying dementia filled prostitute preserved my integrity every single time.
All I could think of is the fact that she probably started out turning tricks in her youth to survive the times she lived in. To make ends meet, or who knows maybe it was to feel wanted and desired, I don’t know.
All I did and still know to this day is that I myself am not willing to risk the possible end result on my life. I have nothing against people who lead these types of lives. Knowing what I know, I just don’t understand them.
Great post! Reading your posts often causes me to remember people I’ve come across on my life’s journey. Thanks for that. You’re a great writer.
hey, what a great comment.
taste your youth!
ha!
sad story about the old hooker. no bueno.
and good for you for not giving up the goods when times were lean!
thanks, sheree. i appreciate you taking out the time to read my junk.
r
I was never a prostitute, but I have been offered cash for my panties, and once for a guy to suck my toes.
shudders That was a bad summer for me.
I wish they’d just wanted to hug.
I could give a dude a hug for money. I think I’d like that. A nice, big hug. Maybe pat his back. Let him know it was all gonna be okay.
And then go pay my rent.
cash for panties! reminds me of sixteen candles. too hee-larious.
why not hugs? they seem safer, eh?
thanks, amanda. have a great weekend.
Oh, Reno - what a fun post this was. Prostitutes and hookers may be fun, but I am partial to whores. As a concept, that is. Whores are just…chummier, don’t you think? They wear high-collared red satin floor length dresses and carry flasks in their garters. They call you shoogah. Every story is better with whores in it and you, dear Reno, have written just about the best post ever.
Plus, Carrot Top with a whore…you see, that just doesn’t fit. It just doesn’t fit.
in vegas you always hear weird stories of celebs. carrot top and the bunny ranch are notorious. whether their true or not is anyone’s guess. but he’s naughty. a naughty redhead.
i like the old paintings of brothels/bars/saloons and women all dressed up in frills and whatnot. cool imagery.
okay, erika, thanks for reading. i appreciate it. take care and i’ll do the same.
r
Oh, Reno - what a fun post this was. Prostitutes and hookers may be fun, but I am partial to whores. As a concept, that is. Whores are just…chummier, don’t you think? They wear high-collared red satin floor length dresses and carry flasks in their garters. They call you shoogah. Every story is better with whores in it and you, dear Reno, have written just about the best post ever.
Plus, Carrot Top with a whore…you see, that doesn’t fit. It just doesn’t fit.
The wonderfully bizarre picture of Edward Penishands eating spaghetti reminds me of the scene in Curb Your Enthusiasm when the food critic tries to eat spaghetti (I think) with both his hands bound by casts into club-like appendages similar to EP’s appendages.
Great post–much fun to read!
jessica-
that pic od edward made me ill. but it was a must. thanks for taking out the time and reading the post. happy holidays!
r
Reno,
Very interesting that this is your most recent post. I won’t divulge here on a comment open for all to see. I’ll shoot you an email sometime. Kind of funny story.
Dude. Panthers. 11-3. After watching another putrid performance by the Giants, I kind of like our chances next week. Charlotte is filled with excitement. It feels somewhat dirty though. Fake. Well, like Charlotte. They have to be 11-3 for anyone to get excited. They still bitch after the game on the local radio shows. “Why didn’t we score 37 points instead of 30!?!” Idiots.
Anyway… I’m excited. Mine is genuine.
I just wanted to talk football. Off topic.
What else am I supposed to say? Good job? You write real fancy-like? Ha!
L8r,
wick
p.s. OH! Watch out for that flying shoe!
wick-
another NFL post is on the way. panthers look tough. peaking at the right time. we’ll chat. later my man.
r
What a great post. I was surprised years ago, having stereotyped men in the stupidity of my youth, to hear so many guys speak with disinterest or conflict about prostitution. Certainly you are not alone. And yes, it’s amazing to hear what people pay for.
Prostitution is legal in Germany and over the summer I read an article from a proclaimed “happy hooker”. She talked about how great it was to be young and beautiful and able to work her own hours. The joys of a freelance lifestyle, I guess. But the good news is everyone here is regulated so at the very least they have high quality health care and I believe are required to be registered and examined for disease often. It does cut down dramatically on the communicable diseases.
For me live and let live is always a good starting place, I just have trouble believing anyone every really chooses “prostitute” as a profession. In any case, it’s not on the list I choose from when I met with my school counselor. But it surely is secure and may be the one field that goes unaffected during the recession/depression. Good news for the huggers.
colleen-
say. yeah, i never really thought about prostitution. living in vegas i’ve seen these guys and gals all over the place. the stuff will never end. pay for sex? i could understand the need, no doubt. just not for me. take care and thanks for reading.
reno
Haha! Read your junk. Isn’t the word Junk used in place of penis and vagina these days? Sorry that just cracked me the hell up when I read it. I was like huh uh, I aint been readin’ nobodies junk! Then my vulcan mind powers took hold and informed me that you meant it in a literal way. Thank God for vulcan mind power!