I was recently hired for a two-day photo shoot out in a ghost town at Gold Point, NV.
Two photographers from back east had hired four models for a sort of road trip/photo shoot and had rented out an entire ghost town for the purpose. They were going for a classic art-nude look and said they had a devil of a time finding appropriate models in Vegas—most models here are of the giant-fake-titted, bleached-blonde-hair-extension variety, which was not what they were looking for. But after much searching of ModelMayhem.com, they finally came up with four all-natural Vegas chicks (probably the ONLY four all-natural chicks in Vegas). And I’m pleased to report that ALL of us had a bush in one form or another.
We all met up at the Hard Rock on Friday morning and then piled in the car for the three-hour drive up to Gold Point. I’ve lived here for 12 years and pride myself on my extensive knowledge of the surrounding desert, but I’d never heard of Gold Point. Whaaaaa?!!! HOW HAVE I MISSED OUT ON THIS FANTASTIC SPOT ALL THIS TIME?!!
Apparently, Gold Point was an old mining town near Lida, just off US 95 North. An old-West buff bought the town piece by piece, and after winning a $220,000 jackpot playing video poker at the Texas Station Casino, he used the funds to fix up the old cabins and turn the place into a sort of rustic resort (best use of gambling winnings EVER). Now the place is available for rent, whether you just want to stay in a cabin for the weekend or overrun the entire place with naked chicks. (For more information, check out their website.)
We all rolled into Gold Point around 4PM and were greeted by the caretaker/owner, an extremely personable character named Sheriff Herb Stone. He showed us to the cabins where we’d be staying—all old-timey 1800s wooden shacks that had been completely remodeled in rustic chic on the inside. Most of the cabins have RV-style toilets and no running water, but Sheriff Stone keeps his own bathroom open 24 hours, so you can just walk across the gravel courtyard and use his facilities when needed, day or night. (Just remember to keep the screen door latched so the cat doesn’t get out.)
Sheriff Stone informed us that dinner was at 8pm, so we all unpacked, got settled in, and then headed out to shoot some photos before then. As luck would have it, the weather had turned cold and nasty just the day before, so it was kinda challenging to run around naked looking carefree and blissful when your headlights were on painful hi-beam and your twat was an icicle. But it’s all part of modeling, so I sucked it up and did my best.
After shooting photos for a couple hours, we headed back to our cabins and changed into warmer clothes—one model even put on her Tinker Bell footie pajamas! Then we headed over to the saloon for dinner. THIS SALOON IS ONE OF THE MOST BADASS PLACES I HAVE EVER BEEN! It’s chock-a-block full of old-timey western paraphernalia and antiques but also packed with a crowd of weekend warriors and rednecks, all of whom were there for a dirt-bike trail ride the next day.
Roomful of rednecks + 4 nude models = HIJINKS!!!!
We stayed in the saloon for HOURS, eating, drinking, partying, and boozing. The good Sheriff kept us well plied with homebrewed Apple Pie schnapps, plus they have a fully stocked bar with just about any liquor you can imagine. After a few drinks, the wood-burning stove got us gals kind of warm and toasty, so before you could say “Wonderhussy” we were all nekkid and posing for photos with Sheriff Stone and Walt the bartender as a million redneck cellphones captured the moment. GOOOOOOD TIMES!
The photographers intended for us all to get up early and do some sunrise shooting, so I kinda kept an eye on the clock—I HATE getting up early, but if I’m being paid to do a job, well then by golly I’ll do it. So as the hour grew later and the party went on, I started getting antsy. I need my beauty sleep, ya know! Around 11pm or so we all finally said goodnight and headed back to our cabins. Two of my fellow models professed an inability to sleep in late (?!?!?!), so it was agreed that those two would shoot first, at 7:30AM. The other girl and I would meet everyone at breakfast around 9AM. Whew!
Thus relieved of our sunrise duty, my fellow late-sleeper and I decided to head back out to the campfire at one of the rednecks’ RVs, where a few dirt bikers and fossil-hunters were hanging out and swapping stories. They were more than happy to see us amble over and welcomed us into their circle, plying us with more apple-pie booze and whatever else we wanted to drink! If there’s one thing I love in this world, it’s a campfire. If there’s another thing, it’s rednecks with booze. YAY!! We stayed up til all hours of the night, drinking and bullshitting and getting into political debates (I had to defend Obama to these right-wingers, don’t ya know). It was all in good spirit.
Around 2:30AM I decided I better crawl into bed, so I bid adieu to the rednecks and headed for the cabin I was sharing with the other gal. I was sleeping in a loft bed, reached by a ladder over the main bed…but when I entered our cabin, I found that one of the other models had borrowed my pipe!!!!! You probably know that I have TERRIBLE insomnia and cannot sleep without my legally prescribed medical marijuana—what to do? I didn’t feel like traipsing outdoors over to the other cabin and waking the other girls up in my search for my pipe. So I ripped a sheet of paper from my notebook and rolled a half-assed joint. It didn’t work very well at ALL, and I spent a miserable night dozing fitfully in my loft as the other chick snoozed peacefully (with her naked boobs splayed out shamelessly, ha-ha) below me.
Around 7AM I couldn’t take it anymore, so I got up, climbed down the ladder and went over to Sheriff Stone’s cabin to wash up. I had forgotten my toothbrush, so had to fake-brush my teeth with my finger (blecccchhh….I HATE doing that), but after I splashed a little cold water on my face I was good to go. I slapped on some makeup and then ran into the two photographers out in the desert, shooting landscapes—they were too nice to bother the other models, who were still slumbering peacefully!! WTF! Have you ever heard of such nice photographers? These guys were AWESOME!
The other girls finally got up, and we all headed back to the saloon for a big old greasy breakfast, then went back out for more photos. That ghost town is like Disneyland for photographers. Rusty old buildings everywhere, with antique cars and farm equipment and all kinds of fun stuff lying around—all of it free to shoot on.
Luckily, one of the ghost town inhabitants (some people do live out there…it’s only three hours from Vegas) was more than willing to act as photo assistant, bringing us water and food and whatever we needed as we made our art. “Stranger” was a sunburned old ex-outlaw biker who had been “saved” by Jesus back in the day and was now devoted to a life of good deeds and restoring one of the old cabins in Gold Point. Before his conversion, Stranger led a very full and colorful life, including stints as an interior designer and a model—he was even offered a gig as the Marlboro Man, but due to ”other projects” had to turn them down. Now he bides his time restoring one of the old cabins in Gold Point, as well as doing construction jobs on buildings in nearby Tonopah and Goldfield. But despite his busy schedule, he somehow found the time to offer his assistance at every turn to a group of four naked models. Amazing!
After shooting til about 1 or 2PM, we packed up for the drive back to Vegas. I had to be at work by 6PM, so I felt like the party pooper of the bunch, since we were all having so much fun that we probably could have shot for another week at least. DAMN WORK! We packed all our bags, said our emotional farewells to Sheriff Stone, blonde saloon mistress Brenda, bartender Walt, and of course Stranger, the solicitous biker—who told us in all seriousness that if any of us EVER, and I mean EVER, were in any trouble in our lives, we should find a way to get ahold of him, and he would help us. You see, he has an army of fellow ex-outlaw bikers at his beck and call, so if we ever felt like we were in trouble, we were to get ahold of him, and between him, his girlfriend and the army of outlaws, they would take care of it. Awww….good to know! Thanks, Stranger!
AWESOME!
whore
“Awesome” and “Whore” are not mutually exclusive!
I just read it for the pictures.
Whoresome?
If you got rid of the words, there could be more boobs and chuff.
I’m boring. No one wants to see my anus.