It’s appropriate that as I pulled up to Reno’s Silver Legacy Resort (407 N Virginia St, 800-687-8733), the oversize, leering mug of professional curmudgeon and comedian Lewis Black confronted me: After all, I was here to try to get laid—with a lady of questionable morals—on TONY’s dime, and a dime is pretty much all those cheap bastards gave me. My research hadn’t turned up much (though you’d be disgusted to know how much your friends’ fathers, when pressed, know about hookers), except that there are a bunch of brothels outside of Reno city limits, none of which reveal prices on the phone. I did learn that Tuesday, after the weekend rush, is ideal for a visit.

After navigating Silver Legacy’s vast lobby to the staccato of epileptic slot machines and the wafting aromas of numerous steakhouses, I dropped off my bag and headed back out to glean what I could from the locals. Fortunately, the bartender of The Stained Glass Pub (540 W Fourth St, 775-329-8548) took kindly to my inquiries; fellow patron, Rodney, a heavily tattooed plumber, recommended The Mustang Ranch and The Wild Horse, twin brothels 20 minutes out of town where he claimed to have done some work “laying pipe,” naturally. With the assurance that even the madam is fit to tie you up, I headed to my car, just as a Sacramento Bee headline, local std infections jump, caught my eye. Awesome!

On my way out of town, I pulled off at Adventure Inn (3575 S Virginia St, 775-828-9000), a wedding chapel complete with themed honeymoon suites. The night auditor, who could have passed for Edith Massey, gave me a tour and revealed a disturbing story about the Mustang Ranch and the Wild Horse. Apparently, a few weeks prior, some delinquent asshole left his two-year-old son overheating in the car while he was off cavorting in labia land. This revelation definitely dissipated the appeal of the spread-eagle compound at the end of Mustang Road. I took a halfhearted look around the two brothels, and promised to return the next day.

Knowing that Dennis Hof, proprietor of the HBO-famous Moonlite Bunny Ranch (69 Moonlite Rd, 775-246-FUCK), has a soft spot for publicity, I had warned him of my arrival. A good thing, since Diamond Foxxx, a diminutive cutie dwarfed by monolithic implants, took it upon herself to show me around his Mound House, Nevada, empire. In addition to the full gym and horse stable, Diamond showed me the clinic where weekly STD testing takes place—and where a certain clientele like to “do it in the stirrups.”

Diamond’s fellow sex worker Logan Landry, a woman as charming as she is amazonian, revealed that a surprising number of women at the brothel have not only college degrees, but husbands and children, too. She also touched on the Cheers-esque appeal for regulars, including Jonesy, an older man who had spent 60 consecutive days at the ranch. Jonesy celebrated this anniversary with glasses of white zinfandel spiked with shots of tequila (“Tequila knocks your clothes off,” he explained), before Diamond suggested that I accompany them to a softball game (Hof sponsors the Sundance Tile & Marble team, a unit consisting of contractors and members of the local death-metal band Sodomize the Dead).

We headed a mile down the road to the less upscale Bunny Ranch 2 (95 Kit Kat Rd, 775-246-7252) nestled between the competing Sagebrush and Kit Kat Guest Ranches, in a plot of land off the highway not unlike Charlie Altamont’s sexpot murder hideaway in The Devil’s Rejects. There we picked up the outspoken Niki Newman and the more bashful Promise. The ride to the game was punctuated by navigational errors (“We’re just four lost hookers,” Logan remarked), Diamond’s attempts to flash fellow motorists, and some bawdy confessions. It was almost all for naught, as the game was quickly called on grounds of belligerence (though the ladies did parade their goods around the bases). On our way home, we stopped at a Jack in the Box, where I dumped ketchup down my front, illuminating just how simultaneously normal and extraordinary the experience was.

After dropping off Diamond and Logan, I went back to the sister brothel and checked back in with Niki. Somewhere between her authentic breasts, her lack of motherhood and the iron cross tattooed on her neck, I knew she was the girl for me. For $150 she knew it too—though, to be fair, our bartering process was intense, as the original quote was $1,000. Me: “All I have in my pocket is $80.” Niki: “Sorry, the absolute house minimum is $150.” Then it got really classy. Me: “What if we just make out and you take your top off or something?” Niki: “If we start making out I’m gonna want to sit on it.” Me: “$150, huh?” And so, together we shared 10 to 12 minutes of awkward hooking up and condom-laden fellatio, set to my choice of Tool or Alicia Keys. In that moment, I realized that true manhood is based on knowing when to trade prog-metal for nouveau soul.

THE TAB
Two nights, one person
Package (flight, hotel, car rental) $540
Gasoline $30
Prostitute $150
Meals $40

TOTAL $760

TRAVEL TIME 8hrs