Wild Cat Brothel Review
When you ring the buzzer at the Wild Cat Ranch, a legal brothel just outside of Mina, it’s likely you’ll be greeted by the voice of Phil Maita.
“Come in, it’s open,” you may hear in his gravelly voice.
Opening the white metal storm door is like stepping into the erotic parts of Salvador Dali’s imagination. The room is dark and hazy. Small, decades-old televisions showing images of things indescribable in a family newspaper replace melting clocks on every bookshelf and filing cabinet.
Behind the bar stands a woman named Payton. Her silvery-blond hair rests on her shoulders, covering the thin straps of her pink lingerie. She looks to be in her early 40s or late 30s and speaks with a sultry voice.