Behind us, a life-size cardboard cutout of Captain Kirk stands next to an alien statue whose disgruntled expression is fixated on the disembodied martian head sitting on a coffee table. Out back, by the pool and bungalows — available for nightly rental — rumor has it that you can see the lights from Area 51 glowing in the distance. Is their alien abduction fantasy schedule fully booked? Have they been getting many requests for Princess Leia roleplay? The short answer, it appears, would be no.
Mercedes says most of the girls who work at the Cathouse stay there full-time for about a month. They each have their own bedroom and bathroom, which they pay for apartment-style by spending time with clients. There are about 20 girls listed on the Alien Cathouse website, but only between four and eight stay there at a time.
Is he tough but tender? I decide to find out. I scoot a seat closer to him. Red Light Girls! But when he got here, Mercedes was the only one available for reproductive compartment probing. He sat at the bar and ordered five, maybe six beers before I even got there. Think they can conduct research on our kind without going undercover? Think again. They blink vertically, which is how you can tell.
With nothing to do for hours on end while she waits for clients to arrive, she invents games to keep herself entertained. The more attention she pays to them, the funnier things they say. But, like, what would they even be doing here, anyways?
I mean, these guys have anti-gravity, or so they say. Is that not so incredibly self-absorbed? They can hide in plain sight. Go find something exciting somewhere else! Our Earth might be inhabitable to them some day. Not wanting to ruin the moment between him and Mercedes, I wander outside into the pastel lavender sunset, past the truckers filling up their wheelers and into the gift shop.
