6 Brothels that Turn Sex Into A Day At An Amusement Park
The rise of the Internet has hit the "house of ill repute" industry pretty hard, and it's a shame to think that ZZ Top may soon be left with nothing to write about except for the occasional ditty about RedTube and Spankwire. But there are a few sex-centric establishments across the world that are refusing to go down quietly (unless that's your preference), opting instead to be more creative in their business models. We've talked about a few of them before. But even though the basic product is still the same (roof, prostitutes, wet-naps, shame), there's apparently still room for some forward-thinking innovation, as demonstrated by ...
The Alien Cathouse
Dennis Hof has made quite a name for himself in the indoor flesh trade. The famed prostitution entrepreneur/creepy dude extraordinaire is the owner of several legal brothels in Nevada, and he even landed himself an HBO series called Cathouse. He's quite the bigwig in the business of boners, and he used his influence to endorse Ron Paul for president in 2012. He has also announced that he will be publicly backing Hillary Clinton in 2016.
I sincerely hope that last part wasn't a euphemism.
But it's been hard times for hard-ons recently, so a few years back Hof decided to boost sagging profits with a bold new expansion. First, he purchased a rundown property 90 miles north of Las Vegas, which he described as "a disgusting, terrible" place that's windowless. In other words, perfect. As a bonus, it also just so happens to be in relatively close proximity to the mother of all UFO conspiracy sites, Area 51 (or, as Hof calls it, "Area 69"). Now, a location like that is just bursting with potential, so naturally Hof's next step was to transform the building into a brothel with a rather unique theme: extraterrestrial fucking.
Finally, some illegal immigrants that Donald Trump doesn't mind so much.
Calling his low-brow sci-fi creation the Alien Cathouse, Hof pulled out all the stops -- buying tacky decor, costumes, body paint, and I would suppose at least one warehouse full of glow-in-the-dark rubbers. He then cemented the prestige of the establishment by hiring noted bukkake impresario Heidi Fleiss to help with the design. Consequently, there are rooms with different themes, such as "Atlantis" and "Alien Abduction." And, in case you were wondering, of goddamn course there's a "probing room."
Finally, a place to live out all our Alf-Hostel crossover fantasies.
Surprisingly, Hof's brainchild is apparently the "first uniquely themed brothel in Nevada," according to NevadaBrothels.net. Sure, a place where you can wallow in a sea of Kentucky runaways dressed as slave-Leias is a pretty novel concept, but are you telling me no "sporting" house in the entire history of Las Vegas has ever had a theme? Someone better tell the furries about this before they embarrass themselves by making reservations for their next convention at the Bunny Ranch.
Or maybe lock them all together in a room with Danny Bonaduce for a month to create
the greatest reality show of all time.
Sex On Wheels
Have you ever been strolling around a city and, after assessing the wide array of mobile concession trucks around, felt like you could go for something more than just a hot dog, healthy salad, or halal wrap? Like, say, a side order of blowjob? Well, to no one's surprise, the French have been capitalizing on the idea of mobilizing hookers for a while now. But the concept appears to be catching on elsewhere, as demonstrated by the U.K.'s Passion Wagon, which, according to the Daily Star, offers a full menu of "spanking, domination, and threesomes in lay-bys, car parks, campsites, and anywhere else they can park their sex-den-on-wheels."
"Hmm, $150 seems like a lot of money for a 'wet burrito.'"
This operation was put into motion by two English prostitutes in an attempt to stay a step ahead of the police, some of whom have vowed to put a stop to their journeys up and down the Western coast. Their business proved highly successful, according to reports, among "lorry drivers" and "desperate punters" (both British slang for lesser royalty, I believe), but a simultaneously outraged elderly population threatened to make the venture a precarious one. Addressing public concern, a member of the duo responded with, "This is the oldest profession in the whole world. People should just get over it," adding, "If prostitution was legalized, we wouldn't need to go freelance."
Besides, a merger with the pipefitters union just makes sense.
And, in Austria, you can place a call to Erotik Taxi, which will send you a stretch limousine for, as the proprietor describes it, "a thrilling alternative to sex at home or in a hotel." Or, should you happen to be in Germany and in the mood for some freewheelin' congress with a professional poonanny merchant, there's also the Love-Mobil, owned by brothel owner Lady Jane. You might have to wait awhile for that service to get up and running again, though, seeing as how they recently had a small problem concerning their van catching fire due to unknown causes.
That hose you're seeing is actually acting as a vacuum.
The phenomenon has even made it across the pond, as an annoying person might say, with a variation on the theme showing up in the third-world, vermin-infested swamp known as Miami. When presumably 5 o'clock shadow-wearing undercover detectives noticed a suspicious-looking stretch-limo bus (after paying a $40 boarding fee to "investigate") they discovered a beautifully appointed interior replete with a stocked bar, rich leather upholstery, and several women in g-strings offering to perform $100 sex acts.
No wonder grandpa won't shut up about Florida Medicaid benefits.
All parties involved were arrested, with the ringleader claiming it was all a big mistake and that the girls were just part of a "bikini boxing" promotion. But no mention was made of what became of that sweet, sweet ride, described by Newsweek as a shiny, black "custom conversion on a tractor-trailer frame." It's doubtful that it would be of much use as a SWAT vehicle (except for maybe during their Christmas parties), so maybe the local authorities put it up for auction? If that's the case, then it just goes to show that government auctions are a great way for the budget-minded consumer to pick up a great-looking car for cheap. Just so long as you watch out for those pesky, occasional rotting corpses in the trunk.
No fewer than four crime-scene techs were permanently blinded after
the subsequent ultraviolet sperm scan.
A "Disabled-Only" Brothel
Becky Adams is a former British madam who gained a degree of notoriety after writing a book called Madam -- Prostitutes, Punters, And Puppets, which details her life as a professional, tea-sipping prostitute wrangler. In the course of research, I discovered that said book won a Golden Flying Penis award and that the name of the stuffed animal on the cover was Spanky Monkey. It was at this point I felt it best to discontinue further scrutiny.
You'd have sad, dead eyes too if your teeth were forcibly removed
for fellatio-related purposes.
After enjoying prior successes as a sex-toy purveyor, founder of a topless car wash called Scrubbers, and as one of the most respected vagina-rental brokers in the realm, Adams takes no small amount of pride in her chosen profession. She stated publicly that she'd rather her daughter become a prostitute than a banker, because "at least prostitution is an honest profession." But after decades in the hump-for-hire industry, she decided to turn her attention in a more philanthropic direction -- establishing an escort service specifically for the handicapped.
Presumably, there's a special surcharge for those prone to grand mal seizures.
For the record, gonorrhea is not a disability.
The basic idea here is that Adams' new business, Para-Doxies, is a nonprofit, privately funded operation that helps people with disabilities (or their caregivers) connect with sex workers. Some of the women actually offer to provide their services for free (which basically makes this no different than your average Tinder scenario, just with a slightly greater chance of pimp-slapping). Now, while all this certainly seems like a neighborly thing to do, naturally there are critics. Women's rights groups have claimed that it's nothing more than "soft focus street walking," and some handicapped people also feel that an enterprise like this even further "others" them from society:
"Tarts with hearts." I didn't make that up.
So there are worthwhile arguments for and against the idea of helping the disabled pay for pro-level coitus. But at least Adams' motivations seem sincere, and really, if you can't trust a middle-aged prostitute, who can you trust? Let's just hope this story doesn't pop up again in a few years and we come to find out it was all an elaborate scam to get free skateboard ramps installed on her house, just to keep her gaggle of illegitimate grandchildren out of her hair.
The Japanese Pervert Train
For starters, I didn't come up with the name "Pervert Train." Those particular words are apparently a loose translation of the Japanese term chikan densha, which is both the name of a weird porno subtitled Suggestive Indecent Hips and also a fairly accurate description of what goes on at the Shibuya Pink Girl's Club in Tokyo. Located in an actual train station, the club is a mock-up of a working passenger car, and like a normal one it's filled with passengers. But unlike a standard train, the schoolgirls and receptionists on board don't mind one little bit if you grope away like you're shopping for avocados.
There's also a caboose where you can be fingered by a hobo.
Reportedly for about $100, customers at this club are given access to the "groper's course," whereupon they're handed a menu that lists a variety of clothing options that they'd like the service staff to wriggle into. Once everything is settled, the ladies then wave at the client through the window, while the fake train actually moves around and broadcasts mock announcements. (Maybe there's also a Tom Hanks Polar Express impersonator, just to ramp up the creep factor.) After that, he can either do a little "who, me?" role-playing or just charge straight in and get right to the business of ham-handing the merchandise like an overzealous TSA employee. After about 10 minutes of "sampling the produce," the customer then has the option of paying extra to take one of the ladies to a private area for a more in-depth tactile examination.
Speed-dating in Japan gets right to the point.
Sure, it's pretty seedy. But taking into consideration all the problems Japan has had with unwanted public transportation skirt rummaging, maybe it's actually making life just a bit more pleasant for the female population. And, hopefully, travelers of all persuasions can worry just a little less about getting sprayed with errant splooge by serial masturbators.
Leaving the authorities free to exercise deadly force on the true threat: annoying subway performers.
Sex Doll Brothels
Strip clubs and brothels can be pretty intimidating places for the socially inept, especially if your turn-ons include "inanimate" and/or "not especially pliable." Luckily for those folks, the Japanese have places where you can go to enjoy sex without all the complications of dealing with an actual human being and instead fulfill all of your deviant needs with a compliant, polymer-based simulacrum.
The process is just so much more streamlined when you don't have to haggle over the price of a blumpkin.
Sex dolls, or "Dutch Wives," are alarmingly popular in Japan (although I can't imagine that nickname is very popular with the Dutch). The good ones are very expensive, however, so one might conceivably determine that it's worth it to just rent one for a while. So it makes perfect sense that some prostitution establishments have chosen to dispense with the human factor altogether and instead fill their parlors with life-sized, frozen-staring female counterfeits for customers to drag off into a private room for an hour or so of balloon-squeaking copulatory nightmares.
For extra authenticity, some come with a handheld bulb you can squeeze to make them cry.
Because of the potential embarrassment involved in keeping a giant, sperm-filled, rubber fuck toy in one's living room, these kinds of establishments are reportedly gaining in popularity. Patrons are encouraged to bring along cameras, along with different outfits to wrestle onto the dolls, and are then free to pose them into whatever dark fantasies that I assume the missing hitchhikers they keep in their crawlspaces lack the anatomical flexibility to properly fulfill. As for the ladies themselves, a business called Orient Industry is the leading manufacturer of high-end silicone "love dolls" in Japan. Their products boast unrivaled anatomical accuracy to the point that it's hard to believe you're looking at a facsimile and not an actual adult woman, but, according to Japan Today, "the Petite series of child- or anime-like characters" is the most popular.
Please tell me someone's working on a doll that has the ability to walk into a room,
see this, and start swinging a bat.
All right, aside from that last sentence -- which I'm going to pretend I never wrote -- I suppose this is all technically ... acceptable, considering that nobody's getting hurt (aside from the inevitable friction blisters). But is that truly the case? What about the poor fucking sap who has to clean up at the end of the day at the sex doll brothel? I used to think livestock-insemination-facility janitor was the grossest job in the building-maintenance field, but at least those guys can make meaningful eye contact when a shame-filled pig has an "I'm sorry" expression on its face.
"We're cool, man. Just try to keep it off the ceiling next time."
A New Age Church/Brothel
Prostitution and religion have always had a complicated relationship with one another, and not just because around seven out of every eight televangelists seem to get caught coming out of an hourly-rate motel. But although New Age belief systems tend to be a bit more open-minded about human sexuality than the traditional versions, it still came as something of a shock when an actual church turned out to be as much of a brothel as if Dolly Parton was on the pulpit and singing a catchy little number about Burt Reynolds' cock.
White not only symbolizes purity but is also great for covering up certain pesky stains.
The Phoenix Goddess Temple in Arizona was a hippy, as well as dippy, congregation of women and men that preached sexual liberation (in a way that must have sounded very attractive for lapsed Catholics who felt they weren't getting enough reach-arounds with their Hail Marys). But when the scantily clad "clergy" started accepting "donations" for what they called "neo-tantric healing therapies" (which turned out to be full-fledged sex acts), the authorities figured out pretty quickly that the temple was less of a church and more like your grandpa's favorite thing about being stationed in the Philippines.
After seizing evidence that showed the operation to be a front for "committing crimes under the guise of religious freedom," a police spokesman declared, "It's a sad situation when people are trying to hide behind religion and church to commit a crime." It's also rather sad that this spokesman is so easily depressed, seeing as this sort of thing has been going on for, I don't know, a million years?
And it's not like she can't help you atone for your sins too.
If by "atone" you mean "blow," and by "for your sins" you mean "your load."
At any rate, the investigation resulted in 20 women being perp-walked out of the temple in handcuffs (with more on the run), all of them charged with prostitution and "other offenses," which may or may not have included "impersonating a potential Whoopi Goldberg script without a license." The "Mystic Mother" of the temple, Tracy Elise, undeterred by this oppressive interference, soon went right back to ministering to Arizona's penile tantric needs and was promptly arrested again. In a jailhouse interview, where she appears complete with a bindi on her forehead, she remained unrepentant and vowed to continue her "healing sessions," presumably much to the delight of local truckers and visiting sailors on shore leave.
Besides, what better place to find people desperate for both God and sex than behind bars?
E. Reid Ross is also nervous around Hooters waitresses over at Man Cave Daily. Feel free to follow him on Twitter here.
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