Las Vegas

The election broke my heart. I had trouble breathing on Wednesday and cried for days.

I had an appointment with my orthodontist in Vegas on Thursday and so had to drive through red states for two days to get there.

When I crossed the Nevada border at sunset, a little relief came over me; and, when I saw the lights of Vegas, I felt happy for a few seconds.

My orthodontist is a rich white guy, and I wanted to punch him in the face when I saw him. Three more Invisalign trays and then I’ll never have to step into that shiny office again or look at his smug, privileged ass.

But I can’t stay mad for long in Las Vegas. Too many good things have happened to me there.

I went to the Mob museum on Friday morning and my mood lifted a little.


I learned things about Las Vegas. That it was a railroad stop midway between Salt Lake and Los Angeles at a natural spring.


Please Don’t Waste The Water

We Have to Buy It



Las Vegas Creek 1910

The town built up around the rail station.



Of course, Las Vegas has always been a place for escape. Far into the Mojave Desert, you can pretend that the world outside doesn’t exist.

This gave me ideas:


The Richest Man to Die

I think about killing the president with my hands — he is old, fat, and weak — it wouldn’t take much effort, then joining the secession of California, Oregon, and Washington.

This is what it feels like to be a woman in America right now:


Standing in our bathing suits with our hands behind our backs in a sea of smiling white men.

But violence is a spear that’s sharp on both ends; it hurts the perpetrator as much as the victim. My friends and I take turns talking each other down. We believe in the checks and balances of democracy.

Dear Everyone Who Voted the Republican Ticket,

You have poked the bear. Liberal people will peacefully and purposefully wait for midterms, take back congress, and four years from now we will get Elizabeth Warren or Michelle Obama as our president.

Until then, I’ll store liquor in my bloomers for comfort.


I spent Friday afternoon at the Korean Spa. A woman who seemed as angry as I was scraped my body with a brillo pad. I lay on hot clay balls and then scalded myself in a hot tub. Some anger boiled off.

Friday night I went to Cirque du Soleil O and got lost in the beauty that a few amazing athletes and artists can create.


After the show, my friend and I schemed about how to quit our jobs and get hired by Cirque.

Is it too late for me to be a trapeze artist? My friend said, I think they want young, healthy people.

I’m healthy!

Maybe I could be one of the people in red on the horse.


Saturday night I went to Cirque du Soleil Love. And again, felt my spirit rise. People can do such gorgeous things.


My friend made me a portrait on the yellow submarine:


By Sunday morning, I didn’t feel like killing anyone. Some compassion had slipped back in and I started thinking about the way forward. Mom told me to go out and do as much good as possible, to love as many people as I can – the best form of protest.

Sunday night at sunset I was in my corral for my third Las Vegas half marathon. Who can be sad when there are people like this in the world?:


When Mom saw this photo, she asked, “Which one is you?”

My coach wasn’t with me this year, so I ran alone. With almost 50,000 other people. Nobody seemed to talk during the race and because there was no traffic, the strip was wonderfully silent. All you hear is the tread of thousands of runners’ feet on the pavement; each foot a mallet, like 100,000 mallets on a drum. As the miles went on, occasionally, I would hear someone under their breath, “Oh my god.” or “Shit.”

Like every year, people lined the sidewalks with signs. One woman’s read,

“I like your endurance. Call me.”

Every time I passed a drink station, one of the runners would shout, “Thank you, volunteers!” I wanted to shout that too, but I could barely breathe.

Of course, the Trump tower loomed above. Every time I accidentally looked at it, I searched the sky for the almost super moon and concentrated on that instead. One man held a sign that read, “Run faster, Trump is behind you!”

My legs weighed a hundred pounds. I didn’t have my coach’s encouraging words in my ear. The last three miles I bonked. Every time I felt like walking, I looked around at the other miserable people still running, and I didn’t stop.

When I rounded the corner and saw the finish line at the Mirage, it seemed impossibly far. Instead of looking forward, I looked down and counted to a thousand. When I looked back up, the finish line was in front of me and a huge white guy was on the sideline to my left. He saw me, spun his arms like a windmill, and shouted, “Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!”

I crossed the finish line and burst into tears.20161115_092503-1

Next day, in the car driving I-95 to the Mustang, another good place for my spirit, I felt tired and happy.

Dear Las Vegas, thank you for renewing my faith in human beings.


Is that blood?

This business is hard on towels. Not because of blood, poop, semen, but because of makeup. We’re trying to look as good as possible here and that means eye liner, mascara, blush, foundation, lipstick, etc…

Of the three brothels I’ve worked in, the Mustang deals with towels best. But it’s still a challenge. The housekeepers battle laundry all day. For every party, after we pay, the cashier hands us one beautiful, sparkling white, soft, extra-large body towel, one hand towel, and one sheet. They kindly ask that we avoid using these towels for makeup removal.

In the laundry room, there is a stack of “makeup towels” – clean towels with mascara stains.

I like to get the shower ready for the man by starting the water, putting his spotless white fluffy towel on the bar and spreading a bath mat on the floor. The other day, we were out of bath mats, so I had to use one of the “makeup” towels. I kind of folded it in half and hoped he wouldn’t see the stains. It was perfectly clean.

But he’s an observant person and when he saw the little stain on the towel on the floor he asked, “Is that blood!”

“No, it’s just makeup. I promise”

Anonymous Love

A stranger sent me a bouquet of fifty white carnations. One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know how to contact him. Thankfully, he called the office to ask if they had been delivered, and the office put me on the phone.

This is a level of access I wasn’t permitted with customers before coming to the Mustang. The connection was really bad, but I was able to hear his voice, thank him, and then he said such nice things that I kind of checked out – there’s no way a stranger could be saying these things to me; I didn’t know how to respond.

Here’s what I wish more people would accept about prostitution: that men come here to give and receive love.

I’m nobody. Someone who stumbled on this line of work without knowing that the job is basically to stand around and receive love from strangers. It’s exhilarating to get so much positive attention from people I’ve never met before.

Thank you for the flowers!

Domination For Beginners


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Crave something you’ve never tasted? Remember the perverse, dirty things you joked about in high school – have you ever thought of actually doing them? You’re not the only one.


Getting tied up can be a lot of fun. If you’re curious, you don’t have to buy a zipper mask and go straight to the hardcore BDSM Beat and Fuck Club (yikes!) – you can dip your pinky toe into the world of domination.


If you have a lot of responsibility in life, there is nothing like turning over the reins to a powerful woman, relinquishing control, and taking a mental vacation. Restraints and other toys are optional for beginners, but I can wrap my red panties loosely around your wrists, and give you gentle suggestions. “Close your eyes, please. And don’t move until I tell you to.”


Maybe you just want to be ordered around, “Now it is time for MY massage.” Or maybe you’re ready for one ankle to be tied to the bedpost while I do a striptease inches away from your reach.


Are you ready for more? What if I tie you loosely (no handcuffs), straddle you, and let a few drops of candle wax hit your chest?


Maybe I’ll push you down on the bed, hold your wrists, lean my body weight against you, grind my hips into you, and gently spread your legs with my knee.

Not in the mood for that? What if I lightly run my fingernails down your back and nibble your ear? We can do whatever you’re comfortable with, as much or as little.


The beautiful thing about a brothel is that you can tell your most vulnerable secrets and not be judged. I’m here because I have a kinky streak.

Maybe I’ll tie you up, sit cross-legged a millimeter away, and make you give me stock tips while I drink green tea.


These sessions can be exhilarating but also exhausting in a way that’s hard to describe. Afterward, you may want time for tender cuddling and petting. Or not. You get to be cared for in any way you want.

Although women in brothels get far more requests to be dominant, we can also be submissive. Whatever your preference, be sure to ask. If you’re interested in dominating a woman at a brothel, another woman must be present. The observer gets paid the same amount as the woman being dominated. Safe words are a must.

Tell me, in as much detail as you can, what your fantasy is, so I can give you exactly what you need. What are your limits? What are your desires?

Then, flop on the bed, relax and trust me.

How Long is it OK to Sit With a Woman you Don’t Plan on Partying With

We’re all different. But, for me, fifteen minutes is okay.

I used to work with a woman who would spend no more than five minutes, usually two or three. If she couldn’t get him to go back to her room with her after that amount of time, she would excuse herself and move to another seat. Sometimes only two seats away.

It was hard to watch the looks on the men’s faces as they tried to figure out what they had done wrong. Some would keep making conversation across the seats as she looked in her hand-held mirror, did her makeup, and said nothing.

Even if she was drinking with a customer she had just partied with, and a new customer came in, she would leave the one she had just been with and sit down next to the new one. Drink in hand that the old one had bought her. If the new one wasn’t ready in three minutes, she would go sit back down with the old one. Now that is a business woman.

I’m too embarrassed to make that work. So I just sit and chat. If it goes too long, I usually excuse myself, go to the kitchen, and eat a sandwich. Hopefully, by the time I go back out to the bar, he will be chatting with someone else.

Things happen quickly. If you’re the only man in the bar and you’re sitting next to a woman you don’t plan on partying with, you could cost her business if someone else walks in. The new customer will take a quick look around, think she’s occupied, and sit by someone else.

A driver I had never met sat down next to me while he waited for his customer. I didn’t mind. I like talking shop with drivers. There were a few other men in the bar I wanted to meet, but I could have stood up and walked over anytime. I was a little tired, so I sat still. But I only talked to this driver for a few minutes before he used the words “big titties” in reference to Callie. I excused myself and went to the kitchen.

Just remember that the seat next to the woman is open for a reason. We want you to sit down and talk to us. If you don’t feel it after awhile, be savvy enough to thank her (tips are always appreciated), stand up, go to the bar for a drink, and sit down next to someone else. Leave the chair next to her open for someone who might want to party with her.

The other day, a man sat next to me for over an hour when it was pretty busy. I liked him and we were having a good conversation. I wasn’t getting a strong vibe but I thought he was an interesting, thoughtful man. Eventually, another woman walked by, and he said, “I want to party with her.” He hadn’t even spoken to her yet. He stood up, said a few words to her, they went back, and that was it. I had entertained her customer for an hour and I didn’t even know it. As I watched him go, I thought, maybe he isn’t such a thoughtful guy after all.

Enjoy all the women in the bar, just try not to occupy someone for too long who you don’t plan on partying with. Cheers!


Return To Nevada

Here’s another story from Old Nick. Enjoy! – Tatyana

It was two weeks away from my birthday, and I had decided to celebrate early–the right way–naked with a woman, or maybe two.

While on my way to Nevada, Mom called. “Nick, there is a huge oil puddle where you park your Jeep!”

I looked down and saw the oil gauge hovering over zero.

So, for two hours, I was stranded in the Salt Flats forty miles from Wendover, with my Jeep Cherokee leaking oil. I kept wondering who I was missing out on at the brothel while I was sitting in my Jeep.

I got out and walked around. A message written with rocks in the sand by the road read, “Welcome home, Elder Smith.” I thought about stealing a few rocks and writing my own message in the sand: “I was on my way to Wells for a good time, but got screwed instead.”

My mom, my uncle, and my aunt brought six quarts of oil. I spent my birthday broken down on the highway instead of in a brothel.

After I made it home, I had a little fun calling brothels with a weird sexual fantasy. I pretended to be a returned missionary and I wanted two women, one to do me from behind with a strap-on, and the other to read aloud from the Book Of Mormon.

Some laughed. Some asked me what kind of drugs I was on.

One of the brothels said they’d do it if I provided my own book.

After I got my jeep fixed, I set out for Nevada again.

I knew which brothel I was going to and made my way up the dirt road. I was wondering if the lady I played with the last time was still there but thought I would choose someone different this time. I was greeted by the bartender, a hot young blonde. I ordered a soda and requested the lineup. When the ladies came out, I chose a lovely brunette named Natalie.

Natalie asked me, “What’s your name?”  I said, “I’m Nick.” She smiled and said, “Nice! Two N-names! That will be easy to remember.”  She took me on a tour.

During the tour, she asked me where I was going. I told her the brothel was my destination. She seemed surprised.

Usually, those small brothels are pit stops on the way to someplace else.

She smiled and gave me a look like, “I am so gonna give you something special.” The tour stopped at her room.

We negotiated and agreed on a party. She said the Girlfriend Experience was her specialty. I gave her my money, and she did the dick check. This was a new experience; the lady I saw previously didn’t check. I had no idea it was a standard thing until I watched Best Little Whorehouse In Texas.

We sat in a heart-shaped hot tub in one of the suites and talked before sex in her room. We showered before and after the hot tub. About the shower, there was no hot water. A brothel with a bad water heater? Only in Wells.

We got back to her room and undressed. She gave me a blowjob. She did the trick where she had the condom in her mouth and put it on me during the blowjob. I love that trick! It was some slight of hand, magic condom trick. I didn’t see the condom, but it was there. Then she got on top of me. I was starting to guess I was her first in a day or two because she was riding me good. But when we switched positions, my equipment was failing me again.

Again? You’re kidding me!

So I struggled for the rest of the hour we had, and when the intercom came on, “NATALIE!!” it scared the hell out of me. Mood was gone. Natalie was a little disappointed, as was I. But, she was far more level-headed than the lady I played with before. She said, “Would you like more time? I really want to make your experience a good one.” So we negotiated and agreed to forty-five more minutes. We went to the bar. I had to get a drink and use the ATM. She took me back to the room, I handed her the money, and she went to book.

I then had a mental conversation with my pecker.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem? You waited two years!”

“You know why!”

“Man, you better stand at attention when she touches you!”

“We’re not used to women! Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“You had no problem with strippers when we got lap dances in Washington State!”

“We were young and dumb back then! Because you saw some goofball on a talk show land a stripper at the club she worked at, and you thought you could do the same!”

“She’ll be back soon! Don’t disappoint her or me!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Natalie got back, and we agreed on mutual masturbation, since why should I have all the fun. Plus, I love watching women masturbate. She had two orgasms. After the first, she said, “I’ve got another for you,” and worked herself to another. It was hot! Now it was my turn. It took a while, and some encouragement from Natalie, which came in the form of light kissing. She wasn’t into dirty talk, but subtle works. What got me is when she knelt by me, rubbing herself, saying, “Come on baby. Cum for me.” My orgasm hit. It hit hard. I get loud when I’m really excited. There were construction workers outside working on the exterior of the brothel. I wonder if they heard me.

Natalie seemed to like it. At least her cheering led me to believe it. Also, I found out that day that I’m a giggler, but it only happens if I’m with someone. So after all that, we cleaned up with wet wipes. She didn’t have a shower in her room. We talked for a bit, slowly getting dressed, telling her that this was my belated birthday trip, and she told me she was glad I made it for this one. I also told her about a few relationships I had, long distance because I was easier to love at a distance, and she asked me why I never had a local relationship. I usually say something like, “I live in Utah.”

All I said this time was, “I have no idea.”

I am actually far more honest with a prostitute than with most people, because who is she going to tell? There are guys that talk up some wacky stuff. They are not impressed. I have been known to let it all out. All my fears, all my frustrations, all my joys. I don’t know why I let it all out. I guess it’s like a confessional, but better.

I then asked if she got a lot of weird requests. She told me about a call that made the rounds for a month, where some wacko called with a bizarre fantasy involving two girls, a strap-on, and a Book of Mormon!

We went to the bar, I bought her a drink and got a soda for myself. We talked for a bit. She told me she posed for a porn mag in the 90’s, though I forget which one. I’d have probably recognized her if I saw the spread. After a few sodas, I was ready to go. Natalie tells me, “I’ll be right back.” After that, the sexy bartender (I wondered if she partied) asked me if I wanted another drink, that it was on the house. One more for the road. Natalie came back, and handed me a business card, gave me a hug, and said, “Thanks for coming,” giving me a big smile.

On the business card was a lipstick kiss, with a message: “Nick, I had a lot of fun. I hope to see you again soon. Natalie. xoxo”

I hope so too, Natalie!


The Negotiation Closet


Women at the Mustang are independent contractors, and we all do things differently. The only way to find out what we charge is to go into the negotiation closet and ask.

We won’t talk about prices anywhere else.

We won’t talk about prices in the bar. We won’t talk about prices on the phone. We won’t talk about prices over email. Not a text message. Not a DM. Not on Twitter. Not on a forum. Not in the parking lot. Not in the parlor. Not in the laundry room. Not if we crawl in the tanning bed and whisper it. Not while spinning on the pole. We won’t mouth the words while underwater in the pool.

Only in the closet.

Some put on a production during the negotiation, bring out printed menus with a la carte options.

My negotiations take five seconds. I tell him how much it costs per hour and that we have to use a latex barrier for everything including fellatio and cunnilingus and that we can do anything we want except anal, which costs a gazillion times more. And that’s it.

I say the number first, because if I start talking about all the amazing positions we can try and all the foreplay… leading up to the number… I get embarrassed and feel stupid. Dr. Reality Injection says this may be because I am conflicted about what I do.


But if I hear myself being salesy, I get the urge to say something like, “And along with that, for an additional $6.99, you’ll get these fabulous faux gold cufflinks.”

It’s easier to rip the band-aid off, tell him how much it costs, and wait. If he turns color like a squid, it probably won’t work out. If he remains calm and doesn’t seem shocked, it will probably work out. Simple. Leave the closet and go to the bedroom.



We did this interview over many days around the resort, in the bar, in the parlor. I sat with her outside where the cool girls smoke. People came and went, commenting. Including her awesome customer Fire Bear who spent twelve hours with her. I love Taylor’s honesty. – Tatyana

TaylorRaeTaylorRae of the Mustang Ranch

Your name is all one word. Where did you come up with it?

My daughter’s name was supposed to be Taylor, and Rae is my mom’s name. I didn’t want a double name and there was a woman who used to work here named Taylor, so I didn’t want people to get confused.

What’s your favorite thing about this job?

I get to have a lot of interesting sex with a lot of interesting people without emotional attachment.

What’s your least favorite thing about this job?

Being away from my family for so long.

How does your husband feel about this?

He considers it just another form of employment. We talk on the phone every day and debrief. He doesn’t get jealous. When I have a good party, he says he just has to work harder when I get home.

Also, he knows what to say to me when I’m starting to lose it. If he hears a certain tone in my voice he’ll say, “Have you eaten yet today?” Food pushes down my bitch button.

I think my husband came around to this because we had invited another couple into our sex life and when he saw me with another man he realized he wasn’t jealous. He knows I’m coming home to him and sleeping next to him.

I lost my virginity to a boy named Chris and I married a Chris. My first and my last had the same name.

Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be?

My lockbox. Which contains all four ultrasounds. The very first photo my husband and I ever took together when we first met and a drawing he made me with a letter on the back.

How did you meet Chris?

Drug court. He was there for drugs. I was there for modification of my probation.

Did you see him across the room?

Not exactly.

He saw me in group session. I dressed to get attention back then. The first time I noticed him was May 6, 2006. I said, “You’re kind of cute, can I take you home?” He smiled, and I was done.

I gave him head the first time I went to his house, and he fell in love. It took me a few moths but I didn’t admit it for a long time because admitting to someone that they meant that much to me gave them the power to hurt me. I didn’t even really start to feel comfortable enough to show him how much I cared until we had been together seven years right before we got married. 

The relationship has been phenomenally good for me as far as opening me up emotionally. It took me ten years to tell him my whole life story. We talked for eleven hours. We can talk now without me throwing things.

What do you think the difference is between a sex worker who shares her money with her husband and a sex worker who has a pimp?

My husband and I have an agreement. I make the money and he takes care of the kids. There’s no coercion there.

How long have you been married?

Three years. But we’ve been together ten.

Why did you get married?

We realized there was nobody else out there who would tolerate us. For our wedding vows, I looked at him and said: “I will love you until the end of time because there’s nobody else who will put up with my bullshit.”

What do you think pimps are for?

Fuck I don’t know. I’ve never had one.

Why do you think women get involved with pimps?

Daddy issues. The sense of security and stability. Codependency.

Did you go to college?

I went to school for criminal justice. Some deputies I know told me I would be good at it, but I couldn’t pass the mental evaluation to get into the academy. 

I did sixty-four days in the county jail here because I unknowingly cashed a forged check. A kid was renting a room from me and it actually was his grandmother’s check. It looked like the same signature to me. If you go to jail just do your time and don’t give the COs a hard time.

I could still do correction work in the future, and if we move to Texas that’s probably what I’ll end up doing.

Jasmine: You went to jail! That is so scary! What was the food like?

TaylorRae: Breakfast is hot. They used to give you salt and pepper. Idiots decided to throw pepper in a CO’s face so they don’t get pepper anymore. Lunch was cat food sandwich. The next three weeks would be a bologna hotdog lunch. You get four draws a week, and people put money on your books so you can buy food at the commissary.

What was it like around the table when you were a kid? 

Aside from holiday meals, I ate alone. Otherwise, I wouldn’t focus on the food and eat because I had an attention disorder. Dad was strict about it. 

Mom bounced in and out from the time I was six months to when I was fourteen.

How are you a different parent than she was?

My priority is my children not my relationship. And I’m actually there for my kids.

Do you plan on telling your kids about prostitution? 

When my kids are old enough to understand what it really is. My oldest is fifteen. So probably when he loses his virginity… so maybe by the time he’s thirty.

There’s an eleven-year difference between my youngest and oldest. I’ll probably sit them all down at the same time. Not telling them isn’t an option. Right now they think I am a server at a motel, which is not exactly lying.

I’m mostly the disciplinarian. Basically, I lead and Chris follows. Since I’ve been away, he’s taken up my role and realizes parenting is actually a full-time job. He missed their early life working upwards of four jobs so he’s really happy now that he gets to be with them.

Our daughter is four and she argues like an adult. Serenity looked me dead in the eye and said, “I’m almost grown up and when I am, I’m going to buy all the gum I want.” She is me in miniature form. 

Have you ever ended a party early because the customer behaved badly?

No. But the other night I had a hot tub party, no sex. The negotiation was clear. But when we got back to the room he got pushy. I told him to get his clothes back on and get to stepping.

What’s the strangest request you’ve ever had from a customer?

He wanted me to watch two movies with one of my feet in his mouth and one on his face. He wanted me to wear my socks every day for a week and then send them to him. I can’t wear the same pair of socks every day because I am in a brothel and I have to have clean feet.

Fire Bear: Would you ever put on a mask? Will you put on a dog collar? I own a dog collar.

TR: No, I won’t put on a dog collar. Or a mask. I’m afraid of clowns. I can’t party in the Mardi Gras room. 

Do you ever get grossed out during parties?

TR: Large amounts of alcohol and breathing in my face.

Do you remember your first party?

TR: Yes. He tried to eat my face. I guess I have a small mouth. It was a GFE so he wanted to kiss. Gross.

Do you ever get nervous before a party?

TR: Depends on if I’ve been drinking. Alcohol is my personality magnifier. Last night, I walked out here in my wrap and flip-flops to get a glass of ice water before bed and it was so busy I walked back to my room with another client. My shit is sore today.

Fire Bear: Aren’t you guys machines, though? Can’t you do it all day?

TR: No, I can’t do it all day. I like the way my vajayjay looks and I want to keep it that way. I’m getting liquid latex and have them cover the inside of my vajayjay with it, so everything stays in place.

Fire Bear: That would be like putting a latex sock in your vagina. Would you still have to use condoms?

TR: Yes!

How did you two meet?

Fire Bear: I picked up a hitchhiker who was standing outside the church in the town where I live. He was going to Reno, which was several hours away. I thought, what the hell and drove him all the way to Sparks. I was so exhausted, I got a room at Circus Circus and slept a few hours. I needed to go home because I had to take my dog for a walk.

TR: He had never left her alone over-night before.

FB: But I had been researching the Mustang for years. I’ve seen JR Carrington movies so I’ve known about her for a long time. 

Anyway, I stopped in. Mostly to get a feel for how much things cost. I took a tour with a woman who made it clear she wasn’t interested in me. She was aloof. I wasn’t into her.

She asked if I wanted to negotiate, and I didn’t know what she meant.

She took me back to the bar, Taylor came up to me, and the rest was history. I don’t want anyone else. She’s freaking amazing. We had a short party that day. Then I came back three days later and spent the night with her. I’ve been back to see her four times now.

Taylor, Do you ever get nervous before approaching a man in the bar?

TR: Yes. Because unless he knows about hunting, fishing, cars, trucks, machines, motorcycles, unless he’s a cowboy, redneck, Shinglebilly (a hillbilly from Shingletown, California), salt of the earth, blue collar man – I don’t know what to talk to him about.

Fire Bear: In Shingletown, the vet rides his horse to the voting station.

What did you do for work before?

TR: Bartending. I don’t dance. I’m that white.

Fire Bear: You can Elaine dance

TR: Rain dance? He can remember that I’m part native but not that I have a Facebook page. I loved bartending.

FB: The customer is always right and the bartender decides who’s a customer.

Why did you decide to try this line of work?

TR: The convenience of getting quick cash. I also needed to keep a roof over our head after my husband and I both lost our jobs three days apart. I don’t plan on doing this all the time. I can’t be locked down this long. It gets to my head. He’s going to go back to work now that we can afford a nanny.

I came to the Mustang looking for a bartending or chef position. My husband came with me and we sat at the bar. Instead, they presented the option of being a working girl. My husband and I talked about it the whole drive home, then got online and researched the industry for sixteen straight hours. We set a time limit of three months and as it got closer to the three months we extended it to a year.

The Mustang didn’t have room at the time so I tried one of the Hof brothels but quit after a month when a place opened up here. I went from basically having a pimp to having a business partner. That’s how I think of Lance — as a business partner.

What do you mean by “pimp”?

TR: If you’re not fucking Dennis, you’re not getting the high dollar clients – unless you get lucky and one walks in the door. Dennis sends clients to the women he’s fucking so there is a lot of incentive to have sex with him. Also, like a pimp, he threatens to sue you if you go work anywhere else. He also threatens to send graphic photos to your family. But my whole family knows what I do so he can’t hurt me in that way.

I don’t do graphic photos anyway. If you want graphic, come see me in person.

How was it telling your parents?

TR: It was fine. My parents understand me. My dad calls weekly to see how I am and to make sure I sound happy. As long as I’m happy and his grandkids are cared for that’s all he needs to know.

My mom is in prison for vehicular manslaughter. She’s done nine of a thirteen-year sentence. She has to do at least eighty percent of her time. The driver died and she was just a passenger. But she was drunk and high, so they blamed her. The hole in the window right in front of the driver’s side says who was driving. She had an idiot for a lawyer.

I’m related to half the prisoners in the Siskiyou County prison and half the guards. That’s how small this town is. I was raised on a cattle ranch around there.

How do you feel about lineups?

TR: I feel like cattle going to auction.

FB: Have you ever accidentally mooed?

TR: I feel like a piece of choice meat. Because that’s what they’re doing. They’re looking at your legs, your body, and they almost never look at your face. I look above their heads at the gift shop area and smile as pretty as I can.

FB: I would never have a lineup. I’d rather have a referral. I need to talk to the woman beforehand.

What advice would you give to women considering doing this work?

TR: Come in with your eyes open and always remember that it’s just a job like anything else so keep it classy.

What do you mean by “classy”?

Don’t be a cunt. Have respect for yourself and the people around you.

What would be something “cunty”?

We’re all doing the same job — but thinking you’re better than everyone else and walking by without being friendly or acknowledging anyone except a few of your friends. Being rude doesn’t make you cool, it just makes you an asshole. 

How is prostitution different from what you thought before you started doing this work?

It’s a hell of a lot cleaner than I thought. The facility. But also, knowing that the girls aren’t all damaged drug addicts with missing teeth and so fucked up they’re waiting to get paid so they can get their fix. It isn’t like that. I haven’t met anyone even close to that.

I never met anybody who did this work before I came here. I did it once, though.

What do you mean?

Met a guy at a casino. I told him I gotta make rent and get diapers for my kids so you have to pay me. I felt dirty afterward. I used a condom. But I don’t know. I did what I had to do. I went to the casino that night with five dollars in my pocket hoping to put it in a machine and win. Instead, I bought a pack of cigarettes and sat at the bar and one thing led to another. It was the Sands in Reno. I was living in a motel across the street called The Lido Inn. The kids were with a friend.

What advice would you give to people considering hiring a sex worker?

Relax. It’s just business. And don’t be scared to approach a woman and tell her exactly what you want. If you have fetishes or desires, be honest and ask for it. If she doesn’t do it, she can always find someone who does.

Do you have any fetishes?

I have a thing for ankles. If a woman doesn’t have nice ankles I can’t sleep with her.

Are you into BDSM?

I’m switch. I can be either Dom or Sub. The level I will go to just depends on what kind of trust is there.

Would you ever let somebody tie you up?

No. Not at work. At home is different. I have children so people know they have to untie me if they want anything done around the house.

Do you have any advice for men trying to budget for this since it’s impossible to find out how much it costs before coming here?

TR: I would say, be as generous as you can afford to be.

FB: That was the one thing that no matter how much research I did, I could not figure out. I knew what they charged on Backpage, but I had no idea what to expect from a place like this. I didn’t know that you couldn’t discuss prices anywhere except in the negotiation rooms. I really had no idea what to expect.

She’s given me ambition. I want to make more money so I can see her all the time.

What would you say to a woman who found out her husband saw a sex worker secretly?

TR: What are you not giving him at home? Why do men seek out sex workers in the first place? Because they aren’t getting what they need at home. That’s how I see it. I would tell her to try to be more open-minded about the things sex workers do that she doesn’t. God, I sound like a guy don’t I.

Long time married men don’t get sex in general. But they’re also missing that feeling of risk that you get on a first date. The excitement goes away. Don’t ever stop dating your husband or wife. Because once that happens, it’s no fun anymore. Spice things up. Go to a kink convention or a sex shop – some place where everything you look at makes your face turn red. A lot of married women read romance novels because their marriage is dead in that aspect.

Veronica: Do my pants look see-through to you?

TR: Your pants would look better on my floor.

Veronica: Yes, and your legs would look better around my neck.

Taylor, what, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

Rape. Child molestation. Sex-trafficking. Pedophilia. Animal abuse. Illegal hunting. I can’t stand poachers.

Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

Finishing school. I always start things and don’t finish them. I get bored and distracted. I’m interested in both criminal justice and veterinary medicine. This will help pay for exploring both those things.

What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

My kids are good kids. They don’t think they’re automatically entitled to anything. They know what work is for and how to work. My son is very personable and he might get a sports scholarship. He’s five-foot-seven. If he gets his dad’s height with my stockiness he’s going to be a well-built man.

If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

I’d travel. Everybody says that they would travel more. I’ve been everywhere you can go on foot around the United States. I would take my kids and travel to the Appalachian mountains. And we’d go to Florence Italy because there’s a massive library there.

If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? 

My husband and my dad. That they mean more to me than I show. Especially my dad. That I forgive him for a lot. He was strict and violent. But I forgive him.

What’s your schedule and when do you work?

I work days and by appointment. 

Call the office for my schedule or check the website


Role Play

Sex doesn’t have to be serious all the time.

If you’ve never role-played, you might think this is silly. But it can be very exciting. You will think about it, plan, prepare, and fantasize. Your sexual energy will rise. When the day finally comes and you have to perform, it can be exhilarating.


You want to be Billy the Kid and me be Calamity Jane? I can apprehend you, arrest you, take you to jail, and have my way with you, you varmint.


Whether you are a woman, a man, or a couple, a sex worker is a perfect person to role-play with because she’s already anonymous. You can shed your everyday persona along with the mean things you say to yourself. Why is my ass five times as big as my sister’s? Why is one boob smaller than the other? Why does my front tooth point straight north? Why can’t I be taller? Why can’t I be more muscular? How come my dog is the only one who loves me?

Role-play is a chance to drop your insecurities, push yourself out of your comfort zone, and experience sex from a fresh angle.


Talk to me. You can practice talking about your desires in a safe environment with a nonjudgmental professional, so you can get what you really want. The way to go about this is with acceptance, pleasure in the intimacy, and a willingness for things to be imperfect. Here’s a chance to practice living large.


Anything can happen at the Mustang. Whatever your deepest, silliest, sexiest fantasy–we can make it a reality. What gives you a boost of sexual adrenaline? Be honest, be foolish, be creative, and forget your inhibitions.


You don’t have to go from zero to 100 either. It’s okay to role-play without costumes or elaborate plots. You may have even done it without realizing it. Have you ever talked dirty during sex? Think of the crazy, sexy things you’ve said that you would never normally say.  Just polishing your pants on saddle leather don’t make you a rider; you have to talk the talk.


Here are some standard role-playing ideas any one of the spectacular women at the Mustang would love to play with you. (These work either way. You can be whichever one appeals to you most.)

  • Student/Teacher– Scenarios, where you have to talk the other person into sex because it’s forbidden, can be really hot. “I’m not sure about this.” “No one has to know.” “I’ve wanted you all semester.” “What can I do to get that ‘A’ in your class?” “If you want an ‘A’ you’ll need to stay after and do some extra work.”
  • Sexy Secretary/Demanding Boss–The secretary is not innocent, and nobody’s protégé.
  • The Eager Applicant–Someone doesn’t quite have the qualifications for the job and is willing to do anything.
  • Pizza Delivery–“I don’t have any money to pay you.” “I don’t like eating alone.”
  • Yoga Instructor –Let me demonstrate downward dog.
  • Photographer and Model–No explanation necessary.
  • Naughty Nurse–Don’t scoff. Clichés work.
  • Randy Repairman–Strap on your tool belt and get to work.
  • Hot Hitchhiker– “Need a ride?”
  • Firefighter–My house is burning down! Help me! And then let me thank you properly later.
  • Police Officer–Can you talk your way out of that speeding ticket?
  • Wet Dream–Someone pretends to be asleep while the other starts having sex with them.


Be bizarre:

  • Dragons, unicorns, ponies (there is a thriving Pony Play culture out there), vampires…anything.
  • Orange is the New Black
  • Pokemon


It doesn’t have to be a power dynamic; it can be anything you dream of. Be whomever you want. If you’re as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, that’s part of the excitement!


I crave new experiences; I’ve been in the desert so long I know all the lizards by their first names.


Also, it’s fine to abandon the role halfway through when the sex starts to get good. Mind-blowing sex is the point, not pretending to rob the bank.


Part of the great release of role-playing is in the anticipation. Prepare, gather your materials, make a plan, dream about it, and contact me.

Beam Me Up