"The Best Whorehouse in Las Vegas" isn't in Las Vegas. It's in Pahrump, sixty miles away, where prostitution is legal.
And it's not the usual whorehouse: the whores are men who service women for money.
It was marketed that way in publications aimed at female executives, in the Personals section.
A typical advertisement is this one:
"The Best Whorehouse in Las Vegas, where women of distinction are serviced by young, well-endowed men who are eager to meet your every desire. Contact us at (xxx)-xxx-xxxx for more information. --- Flamingo Springs Resort:- Box 7654, Pahrump, NV 89061-775"
Sheila Webber and Elizabeth Reilly waited in the airport for the limousine from Flamingo Springs Resort to arrive.
Sheila is in her mid-forties, divorced, and suffers from lack of a sexual partner. The high salary she's earned as the chief of Webber Industries isn't enough to compensate for a lonely existence.
Her friend Elizabeth never married . The job meant everything to her, until recently. Now, at age 50, she's ready for an adventure that promises to fulfill her deepest dreams - to fuck and be fucked, with a young well-endowed guy, as the ad promised. She prefers to be called "Beth" by friends because "Elizabeth" sounds too formal.
They met at a bridge club and became close friends, sharing ideas about men and dating, and why most dates had turned out to be flops.
Elizabeth discovered the ad and called Sheila to tell her about Flamingo Springs.
At first Sheila was shocked at the thought of paying for sex, then warmed to the idea, after reading the ad,
"Sounds great!" Sheila said. "What if it turns out to be a Goddam fraud?"
"No big deal. Both of us could use a vacation anyway. Maybe it's as advertised. I need a young guy with a big dick! Let's give it a try."
They replied to the ad and made reservations for a week in July.
Sheila said, "Christ! It's hot already in the terminal . Flamingo Springs better not be a dump. If there's no air conditioning, I'm out of there."
Shortly afterwards the limo arrived for them. The driver put their bags into the trunk and opened the rear door. They settled down for the ride to Flamingo Springs, while enjoying cool air from an airconditioner and drinks from a compartment built into the back of the front seat.
As the limo followed the highway toward Pahrump, the desert seemed empty and baked to a bare desolate brown by the sun.
Finally, Flamingo Springs appeared ahead, a lovely oasis in a harsh land. There were buildings scattered around the grounds, with green lawns and palm trees throughout. There was a large pool as well, in the center of the complex. People were in the pool, but it was too far away to see them in detail. And there were even flamingos in an artificial lagoon off to one side - a strange sight in the desert,
"This is more like it." said Sheila. "I feel much better already. Where do think those guys are, the ones mentioned in the ad?"
As the driver unloaded their baggage at a building labeled Reception Center, a woman emerged to greet them.
"Welcome to Flamingo Springs, Sheila and Elizabeth. My name is Ruth. Whatever you need, let me know, here in the Reception Center. You can also reach me anytime from the phones in your rooms. Any questions?"
Sheila answered.
"Where are the young guys? You know the ones with hard bodies that are described in your ad."
"That's getting down to basics quickly! I like your style. The guys are all over our facility. But remember that the men you want have tags hanging from lanyards around their necks, showing their names. They are trained to satisfy your sexual demands. We have other men on the grounds, who mow the grass and things like that. Don't approach them for sex. Any other questions?"
"What's the setup here?" asked Beth.
"First, we'll put your bags in the rooms you reserved - 242, and 243. There's a connecting door between them, which you can use whenever you wish. Here's a booklet showing where things are. Maybe stroll down to the pool while George is putting your bags into your room and look around. We have a special show in the Capri Lounge tonight at 8:00 PM. Dinner and drinks will be served during the show. Any more questions?"
Sheila, ever the business woman, asked, "How do we pay for personal services from the guys? Cash, checks or Traveler's Checks?"
Ruth laughed and responded.
"Very good question. Cash is nice, and you may find it a erotic to tuck some bills into a guy's skimpy outfit. But some guys might be naked when providing what you want, so that's a problem. We supply chits, which you will find in your rooms every morning. Your name is the top of each chit. Carry the chits with you; they don't take up much room.
There is a line on which you enter the amount of money. There's another line on which the guy puts his name. We collect chits from the guys every night, and, at the end of your stay, we charge you for the total amount, in addition to the daily rate for your room. Any more questions?"
"No, thanks for the information. Beth, let's look at the pool."
Beth nodded, indicating 'yes' . They followed the map to the pool.
"I can't believe this!" Sheila said, "All those naked guys around the pool, with lanyards around their necks! I think I've died and gone to Heaven. Look at the guy on the diving board, jumping up and down!"
"The one with a really big dick?"
"Yeah, I've seen dicks before, but not flopping around like that. Amazing! I like this place already."
That night, at 8:00 PM, Beth and Sheila walked to the Capri Lounge, not far from their rooms. It was decorated in "South Seas" style: bamboo overhead, tropical plants, and flowers everywhere. After a waiter seated them, Sheila whispered to Beth, " Did you notice his name tag?"
"His name is Jeffrey, What's the big deal?"
"His nameplate is higher than the collar of the uniform, suspended from something around his neck."
"So?"
"I think he's available tonight. Look around at the waiters. Some have name tags on their costumes, and some have them around their necks."
"I never noticed that! Around here I better be more aware. Do you have something in mind for Jeffrey?"
