The Wildkat Ranch is one of the more obscure rural brothels,
with little information available on the internet. It is located
approximately six miles south of Mina on the west side of US 95. For
aficionados of brothel history, the Wildkat was originally
Billy’s Day and Night. The current establishment is the typical
small cluster of modular housing units, with the highway side dressed
up with a façade of delightfully pretentious Grecian columns.
There is a huge parking lot. The entrance on the south side leads
directly into a small bar. I’ve forgotten the posted hours, but
it was not a 24 hour operation—more on the order of noon to
midnight.
Upon entering I was greeted by a hollow-eyed young sex provider who
looked somewhat malnourished. Given the rapidity of her appearance, she
was either eager for business or hoped I had brought food. I explained
that I wasn’t there to party; she thanked me for my candor and
disappeared. I sat down at the empty bar, ordered a coke from the
barmaid. The price was one dollar and I got exactly what I had asked
for and no more—a tepid can of coke, no glass, no ice. I popped
the top and began asking questions.
The Wildkat is licensed for six providers, but at the time of my visit
had only one—so I’d seen the entire lineup. The main trade
is truck drivers hauling ammunition to the Army Depot at Hawthorne,
plus a leavening of locals. The ranch is owned by someone in Indiana.
The Playmate Ranch behind it has no connection with the Wildkat, and
has been closed for some time.
I was told the Wildkat website—the one with photos of two sweet
young things cavorting in the pool—is irrelevant, in that the
former owner did not provide the website password to the present owner,
so the latter is unable to update it. Presumably those sweet young
things will splash forever in that pool, courtesy of some forgotten
internet server. I’m told the present owners are working on a new
website.
I was only at the Wildkat for fifteen minutes, so my judgments are
admittedly peremptory—as were the answers to my questions. While
I was tolerated, I didn’t sense a strong feeling of welcome. By
contrast I’ve sat in the Shady Lady parlor and watched
lookie-lous treated as cordially as paying customers. I predict Bobbi
Davis doesn’t have to sweat competition for this year’s
Small Brothel of the Year award from this particular source.