The Happy Hooker: My Own Story

11. DIFFERENT STROKES FOR DIFFERENT FOLKS; OR: WALL STREET AND ME

I’ve got a friend at the Chase Manhattan, the First National City, the Franklin National, the Marine Midland, the Dime, the Greenwich, the Bowery, Manufacturers Hanover, Bankers Trust, the New York Bank for Savings, the Bank of America, the Bank of Israel, the Bank of Tokyo, and just about every other bank, major or minor, operating in this country.

In other words, bankers are among my very best customers.

These money men account for about ten percent of my business, and when you consider the dozens of other professional categories – from athletes to aristocrats, doctors to diplomats, publishers to politicians, lawyers to judges, company presidents and other businessmen, and even some clergy – all patronizing my house, this occupation makes up a substantial share of the market.

There is only one other profession that outranks bankers as dedicated clients, and that is the stockbroker. These are such a horny bunch of brothel-creepers that I would estimate fifty percent of my business is directly tied to the market trends.

If the averages take a significant tumble – the stockbrokers will not!

Happily, the reverse is true, and if it has been a good day on Wall Street, I can be certain that by eleven o’clock that night my phone will ring red hot, or groups of six or eight juiced-up stockbrokers will appear at my door. When the stocks go up, the cocks go up!

Brokers, as a group, are likelier to patronize my premises, whereas the more conservative bankers tend frequently to call up for take-out service. But no matter where, when, how, or why their desire, I always go out of my way to satisfy their demands, because if I don’t, there is always a rival madam who will.

One relatively quiet Friday night this summer I received a late-late call from a regular New York banker customer wanting six girls for the same number of out-of-town investment bankers he was entertaining. It happened that the girls who were not otherwise professionally occupied were already away for the weekend or relaxing with their boyfriends, so in order not to let the bankers down, I decided to take on the assignment by myself.

I was pleased to discover when I went over to the Hilton that they were all staying on the same floor and had appointed their New York host as treasurer, so it was just a matter of negotiating with him a package deal and zipping from one room to the next, boom, boom, fifteen minutes, in, out, and I was back home in two hours considerably richer.

Another time I took it upon myself to attend a mortgage bankers’ convention in Miami to further my goodwill, and, naturally, increase my wealth.

On that occasion last winter, I took along one of my stronger girls, Raquel, and checked into the Fontainebleau, where the convention was being held. During the day we would sit by the pool soaking up the warm sun and engaging in social chitchat, while, all the time, I kept my eyes open to see which cabanas the bankers occupied.

On the first afternoon we squeezed in a couple of customers before our late-afternoon nap, and after dinner that night we made our pitch in the Poodle Lounge, where the delegates were all relaxing. I would start up a conversation about being down from New York, and the banker would usually ask, “And what are you doing here in Miami?”

“I am here for entertainment purposes,” I would answer.

“Are you a singer or a dancer or something like that?”

“No,” I would reply, “I am here to entertain the mortgage bankers.” It was as simple and direct as that, and to show you what good customers they were, the first night we had about six men each, and the second night, after word spread like a brushfire, I remember going up and down in the hotel elevator ten times in less than three hours.

Business was so fantastic that we didn’t have the strength to last for the four-day convention. On the fourth morning I woke up so exhausted that I told Raquel, “Pack your bags, we’re flying back to New York today.”

At home in my own house I could earn the same money as administrator while my girls did the strenuous work. However, I believe I built up several lasting contacts in Miami, because many of these bankers still call me whenever they are in New York.

I first gained my good reputation with the stockbrokers in my fledgling days when I operated alone in my little studio and was known to be able to take on half a dozen at one time. While I would be screwing one, the others would be lining up in the kitchen boozing and joking. The more I screwed, the hornier I became, so that everybody went away happy and we all had a lot of laughs as well.

With bankers, and especially brokers, it is important that they are given a scrupulously honest financial deal, because if one of them felt cheated out of his money’s worth, word could spread along Wall Street, and you could lose a slice of your business.

Brokers, while they may be my biggest customers, are not necessarily my favorite ones, especially when they arrive at my house polluted and rowdy and arguing about who goes with whom and for how much. The loud behavior of this particular raucous type, I believe, is a reflection of their ethnic origins, because most of them are of Irish descent.

Last St. Patrick’s Day my house was like Belfast under siege. They arrived in drunken groups, and I had a difficult time keeping order, with them running around wearing nothing but green neckties or bright green ribbons around their cocks, boozing and carrying on more than they were using my girls.

I will say one thing for the American-Irish-stockbroker types, though – they are always horny, and even if the market dips, they still want to come around. But they try to get away for less money.

In a bordello, most ethnic or geographic groups conform to distinct behavior patterns, and I have compiled an alphabetical list of twelve of my most regular patrons and their sexual or social attitudes (otherwise known as Madam Xaviera’s dirty dozen).

AMERICAN ITALIANS are second on the list for the title of most-high-spirited customers; however, unlike their Irish counterparts, they rarely quarrel about costs. On the other hand, they are more selective about their girls than the Irish, and usually demand to go only with blonds.

AMERICAN JEWISH men are among my favorite and most frequent customers. They are also, sadly, among my biggest freaks and weirdos. Many of them seem to be in psychoanalysis with problems arising from a domineering mother or a Jewish American Princess wife who walks all over them.

In the days before I was a hard-working madam I could take the time in bed to discuss their problems and persuade the surprising number who were on the verge of leaving their wives to stay with them. At the same time, I would convince them they were better off spending their money to work out their hostilities in their favorite freak scene, or their frustrations, with an understanding woman than on the couch of some boring shrink. I still have many of these same customers to this day.

A lot of the Jewish doctors who come to me are freaky, usually wanting to be slaves. But I recently had one who told his girl to “lie absolutely still, don’t say a word, act like you’re dead.” This is the syndrome of necrophilia – a desire to copulate with the dead.

As lovers the American Jewish men are capable and considerate, but very uptight about eating pussy. This just doesn’t happen naturally, but once you teach them how, they are not bad at it. They are well behaved in my living room, and even though they drink very little, they usually tip the bartender and often also the maid and the doorman.

BRITISH. They are reasonably skillful, civilized, but slightly cold lovers. Also, they practice a kind of class consciousness even in a brothel. Unlike most other men, when they have concluded their physical activity they never mingle in the living room with other customers. They pay their bill, shake hands, and depart.

DUTCH. Unfortunately, I have to condemn my own countrymen as perhaps the most unromantic and unimaginative lovers of all. After they make “dull Dutch” love, they plonk themselves flat on your body like a pancake and nearly squash the life out of you. What’s more, their living-room behavior is no more redeeming. They sit around for an hour and drink your liquor before agreeing to your price, and sometimes after all that, decide not to go at all.

FRENCH. It is no coincidence that the “trade” name for soixante-neuf is “frenching,” because these men have exquisitely trained tongues. However, their personal hygiene leaves a lot to be desired (that goes for French women, too; I have one girl working for me whom I had to teach to shave her underarms and bathe and clean her teeth properly!). If you can talk Frenchmen into the tub before making love, they are cute little lovers.

GERMANS. They are reasonably robust, rather unromantic, and downright dictatorial in bed. “Mach sofort die Beine offen!” (You will now open your legs!) is their attitude. I have, however, one beautiful German boy who is out-of-sight as a lover, but a pain in the neck as a person. He always gets into arguments with my Jewish customers. Even though he claims his parents’ generation was responsible for what happened in World War II, he still can’t stand Jews, and I always have a problem averting World War III whenever he is around.

GREEKS. On a private basis, Greek young men are the ones I adore most as lovers. They are sensitive, strong, warm, and exciting. Greeks are rarely circumcised, but they are very clean. The older, richer Greeks as customers are very charming and sophisticated in bed, and sometimes slightly kinky. They tend to prefer anal sex, a taste which I believe they acquired in the days when their girls were expected to be virgins when they married and yet their hot Greek blood dictated otherwise. To overcome this technicality, they invented what is known professionally as “Greek style,” and the men still enjoy it that way today.

HUNGARIANS. They are usually an older, gentler generation of men who come in full of European charm, usually carrying gifts of flowers for the madam and a compliment for the girls. “Ein kleines Kompliment hört jede Frau gern.” The Austrians of the same generation are almost the same as the Hungarians.

ISRAELIS. Could not be more totally different from their American brothers. To begin with, they love eating. They are very virile, nicely shaped, hairy, and always horny. But their trouble is that they are very cheap and always try to turn my house into a cut-price bazaar.

ITALIANS. Even in a brothel they are real lovers. They are sexually well educated, and very devoted. They pay well and never argue about prices. They usually prefer to have a dinner date with a girl, and they are very fine people to be with. The Spaniards are similar to the Italians.

LATIN AMERICANS (including Mexicans). In general they are lovers rather than customers. They don’t mind spending their money, but they believe their $100 buys them the girl for the whole night. To them it’s not the money that matters, but they don’t want to be rushed. If I send a girl to a hotel to see, for example, a Texan, I know she will be back in half an hour, because as far as pay-for-play goes, American men know the score. However, if I send her over to see a Latin American, she’ll be gone at least two hours.

The Latins want to romance the girl in their slow Occidental English, which is very time-consuming. They are like big children in their way, but very nice, charming, and appreciative just the same.

To give you an example of their behavior in a brothel, I will tell the story of what happened earlier this year when I closed my house one Friday night at the request of a South American minister of finance and three of his country’s most prominent bankers. I assured the minister that except for his party and their two girls apiece, nobody else would be allowed on the premises. However, sitting around idly while they were all going in and out of the bedrooms made me very horny, so when a very sexy male friend of mine called up, I invited him over.

When he arrived the bedrooms were all occupied, so we had no alternative but to make love on the living-room sofa, and to hell with my promise not to let anyone else in. Although the Latins did say “no other customers,” this doesn’t necessarily mean “no lovers.”

After we made wild love for about half an hour I became aware that the minister of finance and his party had trickled out of the bedrooms and taken ringside seats with their girl friends to watch the madam putting on an impromptu exhibition.

It occurred to me they had a right to be mad at my entertaining another man, but that was not so. An hour later, when we had finally had enough, the Latins gave us a standing ovation, grinning broadly and shouting, “Bravo! Bravo!”

Charming, and sometimes childlike as they are, Latin men stubbornly refuse to go with Latin women.

ORIENTALS. We have a saying that going to bed with an Oriental is like washing your hands – clean and simple. These men are the quickest lovers and the smallest in dimensions. They are so quick and easy to take care of that when the new Chinese restaurant opened recently in my building I arranged to have regular meals sent up to my house in exchange for a monthly screw for every man on the staff, even the cook. Noodles for doodles, you might call it.

As far as Oriental clients go, Japanese patronize brothels much more than Chinese, the latter being a more discreet, private race of people.

Many Oriental men are painfully aware of their physical shortcomings and will go to bizarre lengths to conceal or compensate for them.

I once had a poignant experience in a hotel room with a high-class Japanese man who could not face up to the reality of the size of his equipment.

The man, a minister of the Japanese cabinet, visiting New York, was lying in the darkened room with the covers pulled over him when I arrived at the request of his American male secretary.

As my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I could see that he was in his early forties and quite attractive. He didn’t say much, so I undressed quickly and joined him in his bed, assuming he would leave all the action up to me.

However, in bed, when I tried to go down on him he gently but firmly pushed my head away. At first I thought this might be coyness on his part, but he kept pushing me away until he saw I was so determined to suck his cock that he allowed me to.

But he refused to remove his hands from where they were covering his balls and holding on to the base of his penis. At first I thought he was doing this to hold it up for me, but after a while I began to realize that there was something very strange about the penis I was sucking. The skin was not as soft as on a real cock, and when I went to put the point of my tongue into the little eye, I couldn’t find one.

Something, I knew, was very weird in that bed. But before I could find out, he rolled me onto my back, made quick love, climaxed in minutes, and vanished into the bathroom.

If I had not felt myself warm and wet when I reached down under the sheets, I would have suspected the man was wearing an artificial penis. It didn’t make sense.

Five minutes later when he returned from the bath room with his hands still covering his front I had made no attempt to get up and get dressed, because I wanted to get to the bottom of this, so to speak.

The Japanese cabinet minister slid back under the sheets and started talking with me in polite, labored “Engrish,” and as he did I gently pushed his hand away and found, to my amazement, a penis not even as big as my little finger.

I believe if he had been a Caucasian and the lights had been on I would have seen that man blush crimson at that moment.

“How come you were shaped so well five minutes ago?” I asked him. “Did you wear something over your penis?”

“Never mind, never mind,” he said. “Everything okay now.”

“Tell me the truth,” I coaxed. “I will understand, honestly.”

There was no point in pretending, so he admitted to me he had indeed worn an artificial penis, which, I have since found out, is quite commonplace in Japan. It is such an ingenious little device that it can be controlled to emulate orgasm at the same time as the wearer, and squirt out a semenlike liquid.

“Listen,” I said to him. “There is no need to be ashamed of your real penis. And to prove it, I will suck it again for you.” This time he let me do it, and I believe he really enjoyed it.

After I dressed and was ready to leave, I asked him would he give me his false penis as a souvenir.

“Never happen, never happen.” He shook his head. “Have several more cities to visit, and only one artificial penis.”

“Well, rots of ruck,” I wished him as I walked out of the door.

Just as different ethnic groups have their peculiarities, so do different age groups, and I have observed a consistent pattern with my customers in their specific age brackets.

The youngest customer I have ever had was seventeen, and the oldest was seventy-two. However, both these extremes are very rare.

In the old-style brothels of the 1930’s and 1940’s I believe there was such a thing as “cherry-popping” – an occasion when a father would send his adolescent son along to an understanding prostitute for an introduction to sex.

These days, the few youths who visit an establishment like mine come up under their own steam. Nevertheless, these kids are usually very nervous and very quick, and climax almost immediately. They have the strength to climax two or three times, and depending on whether they can afford it or if the prostitute really likes them, they may go again a second, and maybe a third time, in the same half-hour.

When the men reach their early twenties, they usually come up to my house in groups. At this age they are still a little self-conscious and give each other Dutch courage by the glassful. They are relatively easy to handle and last a little longer than the adolescents.

When men reach their late twenties they have also reached the height of their sexual strength, but far from being desirable as lovers, they are considered by professional girls to be a nuisance. The late twenties are the ones the girls like the least, because they demand every different position for their money, and their snotty attitude is: “I’m young, I’m attractive, I really don’t need to use a prostitute, but since I’m here, I will get my money’s worth.”

By contrast, men in their thirties and forties are the ones the girls like best.

These are the men who know what it’s all about. They usually go twice in half an hour, and as far as the girls are concerned, it is a pleasure to make love to them. They usually are the kind who look after their bodies, work out in a gym, play tennis, wear nice-smelling colognes and after-shaves. They really appreciate a woman, and are not too demanding. The men in their thirties and forties are not too choosy about whether a girl is twenty or thirty, as long as she is attractive and has a nice personality.

Men between forty and fifty are similar in their attitude to the previous group except they usually request a blow-job instead of a screw. They are from the generation whose wives are not so liberal about going down on them, so they come to a brothel for what they cannot get at home.

In my experience and opinion, a man has certainly peaked sexually and begun to decline in his late forties.

Men in their fifties start asking for very young girls, preferably little Lolita or “daughter” types. These customers are usually wealthy semiretired businessmen who winter in Miami and fly between there, Puerto Rico, and New York for their pleasure-seeking. They usually have a nice suntan, are always very gentlemanly, arriving often with a bottle of Scotch or perfume for the madam. Men over fifty start to feel that what they lack in performance they make up for in generosity. They always seek more privacy than the younger men, are gentle lovers, and can make it only once per hour, if at all.

Anyone over sixty is, with very rare exceptions, content to give or receive a blow-job. If the girl eats them, they come in three strokes, and if they eat the girl, they can go on contentedly forever.

However, you are never entirely certain which they will prefer, as I found out one night when I had a social appointment with a famous, elderly banker from Philadelphia. The man was very charming and, very sweet, and during the evening I learned to like him so much that on the way home in the taxi I told myself, “Poor man, he is so nice, why shouldn’t he be entitled to his pleasure the same as everybody else?” And I decided I would give him a beautiful blow-job.

But when we got into my apartment he lured me onto the sofa, removed my panties, and, fully clothed himself, ate me for half an hour as though I were caviar.

One of the rare cases of men over sixty still being strong enough to screw is an American movie magnate, and I know this because he has made love to me several times.

This famous man always specifically requests me and another of my girls to come to his suite in the Plaza Hotel, where he waits for us dressed in an expensive silk morning gown.

There is very little conversation when we arrive, and we usually have time to admire his beautiful original Dali and Picasso canvases before his imported girl friend saunters in with the air of someone just passing by, then undresses and lies on the bed.

For some strange reason the movie man never makes love to his young girl friend, although he keeps her in high style and has bought her a co-op in a luxury East Side building.

The two hired girls undress as well and begin to make love to the foreign girl while he sits there, his gown falling open, of course, in a splendid Louis XV chair. And I must say for an antique himself, this movie man has got a beautiful big cock.

After the three girls on the bed have been making it for about fifteen minutes – with one girl kissing the foreigner’s breasts while I give it to her with my vibrating tongue – she curls around and whispers in my ear: “All right, I’m going to fake it now.” And she pretends to have an orgasm to please her movie-magnate lover.

Her trouble is, she has been using a vibrator since she was about seventeen, and she is now nineteen and cannot have an orgasm without it, because nothing can match up to the action of one of these machines – which, of course, is why I advise my girls not to use them very much.

After she pretends to climax, the tycoon takes off his robe and screws one of the hired girls, usually me. And I must say he is pretty strong and fantastic for over sixty – as long as you close your eyes.

Young or old, Afghan or Eskimo, all men who pay for play in a house of pleasure come under the heading of “johns,” and all fit into one of the following categories.

1. THE EASY CHOOSER. He comes in horny and in a rush and hardly has the time for a drink. He just wants to get a quick blow-job, and absolutely no more involvement. No kissing, no holding, no need for faking it on the girl’s part. He is in and out in fifteen minutes.

There is a variation on the type of “john” who wants only a blow-job. This one rationalizes that if he does not put his penis inside a vagina he is not being unfaithful to his wife. Strangely enough, this is usually the kind of man who was one of the biggest and wildest swingers before he was married…

2. THE LOVER. He gets emotionally involved with a girl, requests her all the time, and doesn’t want to see anybody else. He tells her his life story, and often wants to convert her – take her away from all this – usually without offering her any alternate means of support. The lover is happy only if he feels the girl is satisfied with their lovemaking. He is time-consuming, but worth the effort, because the “lover” is always a steady customer.

5. THE WHORE-AT-HEART. He likes variety without being especially selective, and always prefers the atmosphere of a madam’s house to that of a loner. He usually brings a bottle of booze or some other gift for the madam, feels very much at home in the brothel, and goes through several girls in the course of a night. By the time he is finished it is usually approaching dawn, and for the extra fee he usually decides to use the pull-out-sofa privileges and sleep over.

4. THE DON JUAN. He comes carrying tales of all the gorgeous airline stewardesses, secretaries, and models he has slept with and who are all after his fantastic body. This type is always young, not necessarily goodlooking, and almost never good in bed either. You often wonder where he gets the strength to spend money at your house, because, from the stories he tells, it sounds like he has a pretty good business going for himself!

5. THE INTROVERT HIGH ROLLER. This man, usually more of an intellectual than the usual john, wants to see a girl only once in his lifetime and never again. He uses the madams because he knows they have connections with girls all over the city and can give him access to the variety he craves. He is either a hardworking bachelor concentrating too hard on his career to hang around parties and pick up girls, or if he is married, he usually turns up in the summer when his wife is on vacation. He will call any time of the day or night, whenever the urge strikes him.

6. THE HAGGLER. He sits down and hangs around for half an hour smoking as many of your cigarettes and drinking as much of your liquor as he can get his hands on, while making up his mind whether he will go at all. He puts you out of your way to get a special type of girl, even if there are several already sitting around, and when he finally decides to give it a try and you are about to straighten out prices, he gives you a hassle and tries to chisel down your prices. He usually throws in how much it cost him to park his car.

7-A. THE TEMPORARY IMPOTENT. He is impotent on account of too much to drink, fatigue, a fall in the stock market, or pressure at the office. But whatever the cause, it is generally short-lived, and when he comes back in another week he will probably be a good, strong lover again. This man is usually the slightly nervous, sensitive type, and with him we always have patience and try to give him a second chance.

7-B. THE PERMANENT IMPOTENT FREAK. He likes lots of girls in group scenes, or likes to watch lesbian scenes and doesn’t care whether the girls are black, white, or green. His permanent debility is caused either by age or some massive complex, and his preferences include fingering the girls until they climax (or fake it), just eating them, masturbating while the girl looks on, and some even like anal intercourse with a dildo or even go as far as carrots, sticks, beads on a string, ice cubes, or any other miscellany that will go up there.