Sunday did not start well. Two young guys came in and one wanted me. We did the tour, we went in my room and spoke. He wanted 30 minutes of sex for $100. Not going to happen. Hell, I was giving him a deal with my counter offer, not that the dumbass was capable of realizing this. He claimed someone had done this deal for him before at this place. (This is possible, itâ€™s also possible she lied to him about the 30 minutes to take his money, but it leaves idiots like him thinking he can get away with this shit all the time. Again, the whole â€œnegotiate downâ€ thing endemic to this brothel is not really in our best interests.)
I left him sitting at the bar.
Later that day, I had a guy choose me and I booked him. I had gone through a couple lineups by this point and the young guy Iâ€™d turned down had taken to making remarks under his breath while I was in the bar. After I processed the payment, the bartender started my clock. Itâ€™s unclear what happened after this.
In case people arenâ€™t aware, Nevada brothels work on a system of bells. Thereâ€™s the doorbell that people ring to get in. Thereâ€™s the lineup bell (long, loud, clanging) and thereâ€™s the mingle bell (two or three short clangs). Mingle is no lineup, but a customer in the bar who is fair game. We usually ignore the mingle bell, unfortunately for the lineup-shy guys.
When Iâ€™m lying down, attempting to sleep, the doorbell awakens me (as itâ€™s meant to); the lineup bell is a nuisance and impossible for me to sleep through. Iâ€™m a light sleeper; Iâ€™m sure some girls arenâ€™t. Even when awake, the bells make me jump, as I guess theyâ€™re meant to.
Though everyoneâ€™s shift is officially 1pm-1am, weâ€™re really on call around the clock anytime weâ€™re there. Yes. My sleep schedule is destroyed and Iâ€™m spending a lot of time taking terribly interrupted naps.
last night continuedâ€¦
After making my post last night, I went out to the common rooms to socialize. The girls were friendly. There is Katrina, a semi-finalist on Americaâ€™s Next Top Model (or one of those model shows) â€“ she told me after I said she looked like a model. Sheâ€™s done print and promotion work in Vegas as well.
I watched a couple line-ups. From my vantage point (making sure the men didnâ€™t see my medically-uncleared self), the line-ups were not in the least degrading and had a laid-back, high-school-dance charm. Every girl in the house is different, so men can easily pick their â€œtype.â€ It also keeps anyone from being offended since no one person is direct competition to another.
Katya, our resident Russian, talked to me at length about policy, procedure and how she conducts her business. Sheâ€™s older, but is a degreed engineer. She has her accent and big blue eyes. Her success (and she does make money) is due to her personality, intelligence and sexual skills. She tells me this. Sheâ€™s quite proud of her abilities. Why not?
I listen to Katrina at the CB radio. Not too bad, but itâ€™s generally really fuzzy and hard to hear. Thereâ€™s a script we get to work from.
I watch The Colbert Report and go to sleep. (Thereâ€™s a TV in every room over the bed, kind of like in a hospital or some motels.)
I wake up bright and early. I have to go out for my run, then get back to get ready to head into Elko for my medical exam and paperwork. Instead, I end up talking on the phone and just walk around, no running. Since the food here is rather processed-carb-heavy and not as many whole grains, light proteins and fruits as I want, I need to run.
Fix my own breakfast and take a shower. Iâ€™m ready to roll, itâ€™s 9am.