House of Cats

I’m a little late catching up with this, but there is an interesting documentary airing on HBO now, called Cathouse, detailing life at the Moonlite Bunny Ranch, one of Nevada’s famous brothels. I was up until 2am on Saturday watching it because, much like a train wreck, you cannot look away.
The original is 5 years old, but there is still a wealth of information for the curious (me) because it provides a fascinating insight into a side of life that is not discussed in polite company, which is why I will write about it here. There is a new batch of shows running now, and I highly recommend it.

Besides all the sex, which goes without saying, I was interested in the financial aspect of it and how the customers arrive at their prices. As it turns out, an hour with one of these women will cost you in the neighborhood of $1,500 for the full experience. Some guys go for less. One girl talked about a guy who paid for 5 minutes. I guess the guy only had $125, which makes me figure that he didn’t know where a good massage parlor was.

The customers are a fascinating lot. There were a couple of couples. One husband and wife celebrating their anniversary, a pair of brothers, a mother with her virgin son and a couple who were swingers and wanted a threesome. In every case, the girls were happy to oblige – if the price was right. The wife figured that the husband was better off getting it there than on the street, the virgin son appeared to be gay which explained the situation, and one of the women wanted a lesbian experience while the husband watched and participated. It was quite a show.

The procedure seems pretty simple. Prospective men walk up to the front gate and are buzzed in by the Madam. A bell rings and the available women are brought out into the lobby and lined up for the guy to choose one (or more) for his fun. They retire to the bar, where the guy is lubed up (in liquid form) and escorted into the room where the price is negotiated. Once they settle on a dollar figure the Madam is called in to close the deal. Generally, the guys are a little put off by the price, but the reason they are there soon takes command, and the little head writes the check or pulls out the credit card.

One particularly wealthy guy (claiming to be a CEO of some company) paid $15,000 for "something". His credit card couldn’t handle the strain, so they had to run two, one for $9,999 and the other for the balance.

The girls are an interesting bunch. They are tested regularly for STDs and AIDS, so one could argue that sex with them is safer than it is with some tramp you pick up at a bar. To me, the money is the thing. There's no doubting the desire of the men, and (at least for the cameras) the girls enjoy their work - perhaps too much - but the idea of $1,500 for an hour of sex leaves me thinking that they soon discover the sensation of sex-buyers remorse.

You can spend hundreds of dollars for a good meal, but soon your appetite comes back. Either you spend more money or you find a more reasonable alternative, because the appetite is relentless. The sexual appetite is similar. Perhaps I'm being too analytical, but I would figure on being satisfied for a short time until the appetite returned, at which point I'd be waiting for my credit card statement with a sense of dread, wondering how I could have spent so much and gotten so little. But, I'm strange that way, always thinking long-range.

There's much more going on than I can detail here. Suffice it to say that I encourage you to tune in for a slice of life that you really only see on TV, which is why - sometimes - it's a fascinating medium, made all the more interesting by the fact that HBO can present the subject both uninterrupted by commercials and unedited for content.

The junk they call "reality" television is like a Disney cartoon compared to this stuff. This is as real as it gets.