Interview with (NAME REDACTED)
"Dollar Debs
You won't find it on any map, nor will google turn up any results. If you don't know where it is or happen to stumble upon it, you'll probably never find it. Dollar Debs. DDs is home to the finest and most beautiful ladies in the world. For a Dollar Debs Dollar, you can see it all. For more, you can… Well, let's just say the ladies at Dollar Debs never kiss and tell.
If you find yourself alone driving down Route 60 late one night, you might come across her. Dollar Debs. The 20-foot neon-lit stripper is a dead giveaway that you've made it. The 12-foot wall topped with razor wire that surrounds the compound keeps prying eyes out. The 18 foot darkened guard towers ensure no unannounced visitors. You pull up to a set of very large steel gates. They open, and one vehicle at a time, you drive into a small reception area where several mean-looking dogs sit in cages. The gates close. You'll need to step out of the safety of your ride and stand near the dogs. If they ignore you, the second set of gates opens, and you are welcomed in. If they snarl and bark, well, you'll end up receiving a shot of hot lead right between your eyes. When that inner gate opens, you'll pull in and park. The parking area can hold upwards of 20 modified vehicles. And is usually near capacity. After parking, it's a short walk through the lush desert garden, where the fragrant smells of night-blooming flowers welcome you. If you happen to be there during the sun-up hours, you'll get a whole different set of sights and smells.
The buildings within the wall are all modeled in the style of the Southwest. Don't let the hot pink adobe and stucco walls fool you. They are several feet thick, topped by the most beautiful and fire-resistant, red terra-cotta tiles you've ever seen. The few windows are set deep within the walls and allow slivers of light to filter into when the heavy drapes are opened. The glass is said to be triple-layer bulletproof. The two heavy outer oak doors open up into a small receiving vestibule. Here you'll find either James or Chico checking ID and frisking any who wants to enter. James is a big Italian fucker. Built like a brick shit-house he is. He's always in a three-piece suit. I've seen him pick up some guy's custom chopper, carry it up a set of stairs and toss it off the wall. Big fucker. Chico, he's Mexican. Small guy. Maybe 5' 6", 140 pounds. But from what I know, dangerous. He loves those Debs calls them all his "Hermanas," his sisters. I saw him toss a couple of guys out the doors. He picked them both up by the shirt collars and threw them a good 10 feet. Their asses sprawled in the desert sand. From what I hear, he's an excellent shot with a rifle.
Anyway, one of them will check you at the entry. If they find weapons, they're checked with the weapon check girl. Only James, Chico, and the Debs are allowed to carry in the club. If you try to argue, you'll find yourself unceremoniously thrown out on your ass, usually headfirst into one of the large Saguaro Cacti that dot the inner courtyard. Keep arguing they'll toss you outside the wall. Once you're squared away, they open the innermost door. At first, the music is dull thumping, clear the curtains, and it really hits you. Heavy bass. The smell of high-quality liquor, you won't find the cheap stuff here, mingles with the scents of flowers and the perfumes and powders of the Debs. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the dimly lit space. Small spotlights shine on each of the three stages. Then you'll see them. Their bodies pulsating and gyrating to the beats as they work their way in and out of the spotlight, paying attention to each gentleman watching. Now don't go thinking a regular ol' dollar will get you anything. These ladies aren't dime store whores.
I should have mentioned, while you're being patted down you cash in your trade; gold, silver, precious gems, bullets, batteries, whatever you have to offer. You're issued Dollar Debs Dollars. You'll use them for food, drinks, and most importantly, the reason you came all this way, the ladies. The Debs are very generous with their trade conversions so you're sure to have a good night.
What does a "good night" consist of? Well, as I said, these ladies aren't whores. Like that comedian used to say, "there is no sex in the champagne room." Now that doesn't mean you won't get lucky, but if you do, it's cause she likes you. What you pay for is a top-shelf liqueur, the food you couldn't afford before the shit, and the Debs entertaining you. I tell you, man, they know how to dance. If you do go, I say pay for the private dance it is well worth the triple Ds.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention the safety. There ain't nowhere else in the West where a man or woman can get blackout drunk and know they'll wake up in a warm bed with no fear of THEM. Yeah, when you go there, it's an overnight thing, for some, it's several nights. They have a five-night max policy. After five you have to go. The room you get is small, windowless, soundproof, and safe. They all have solid oak doors with crossbars at the top and bottom for extra reinforcement if the need arose. It hasn't yet.
I swear to you, James and Chico have to have the highest kill count of any team in the damn world. As soon as one of THEM is spotted, they take 'em out. Retrieve the remains and burn them. I don't know if they ever sleep.
What do you do during the day, you drink, eat, and watch the ladies. The place is open 24/7, but they usually only let folks in after dark. The occasional day-tripper will show up, they always get a little extra shit from the guys.
Oh, the Debs, well the compound is large, man. The Debs have separate, I guess you'd call them cottages, behind the main building. They circle a courtyard that has a well and is full of small garden plots, some flowers, some vegetables. The cottages are small but cozy. I got to go to one. They're open floor or what we used to call studios. The beds are huge, and the decor is whatever the particular Deb wants.
Behind the cottages are the stables and the greenhouses. It's said that under the greenhouses is where they have their stashes of supplies and traded in goods. But no one knows for sure. Now the Debs are the ones who plant, grow, harvest, and cook. The only thing they don't do is slaughter the animals. That's Dan's job. Dan is Deb's husband. Other than James and Chico, he is the only other guy who lives in the compound. Deb is in charge. Now you might expect her to be some old, grizzled, used-up stripper, but you couldn't be farther from the truth. She is gorgeous, young, and still dances on special occasions. Dan, well, he's a lucky man. He's young too. A good-looking guy, I guess. I've never seen him get violent, but I've seen guys, big guys, squirm under his gaze. Nope, don't think I ever want to see him get mad. Deb either.
There's a story, don't know how much is true, about a group of outlaw bikers. Called themselves "Dreadnoks." There were 13 or so of them, at least that's what people say. They came round looking' for Dollar Debs and looking for trouble. They followed the rules to get in, but once they got in, all Hell broke loose. They tried touching girls in ways that aren't allowed. A couple of them got into it with James and Chico. Well, the story goes that Dan and Deb came from the kitchen with 4 of the Debs who wasn't working right then. James and Chico warned the bikers that they had better leave before Deb gave the word. Well, the bikers, big fuckers, you know the type; scraggly beards, beady eyes, sun-blasted skin. Well, they laughed at the warning. James and Chico looked over at Dan and Deb, who must have made some sign cause the two guys just backed up hands in the air shit-eating grins on their faces. The bikers turned towards Deb and Dan and the Debs. Next thing you know, the bikers are getting stomped by a bunch of pretty little things. Dan just stood watching, arms crossed, while Deb and her Debs beat the piss out of the bikers. They didn't stand a chance. See Dan is said to have been some military guy and Deb, she's some martial arts chick. They make sure the ladies are trained right. They take care of their own. At the end of the brawl, people said Deb cut the balls off the head biker and tacked them over the bar. They're still there. I've seen 'em, nasty fuckers all shriveled up and shit. Now through it all, the ladies on stage just watched the festivities. The patrons rushed out to their rooms. They were called back out after a little cleanup, and the party kept right on going.
Yeah, Dollar Debs is the last place a man can enjoy himself in this shit hole of a world."