The Happy Hooker: My Own Story

by Xaviera Hollander

  It is always important to be friendly with the building personnel. I remember I came home from a friend’s party one night very horny and this tall 17-year-old Negro boy was on duty at the entrance to the building. I told him to come up to my apartment so I could give him his tip. He came up and I almost raped him. We fucked our brains out, plus I gave him ten dollars, and so he was quite happy with his “tip.” Trouble was, he fell in love with me. For me it was no more than washing my hands. Once I had him, I forgot him, but he kept calling me and giving me presents, such as records and flowers, and I had a hard time discouraging him from bothering me.

  I also have a swinging druggist who gives me amyl nitrate without prescription and lets me have a good rate on the Koromex jelly and cosmetics I buy in quantity. Although I have never fucked the druggist, he sometimes sends me his special friends, whom I take care of. One of my girl friends has a beautifully furnished apartment, and she literally fucked it together. Everything in the apartment she got screwing manufacturers and salesmen.

  As I mentioned, one of my big expenses is having my four telephones installed each time I have to move to a new apartment. This is a big job and takes two or three days, since I have a set of wall phones plus others in two locations. Fortunately, I have a friend at the telephone company, a telephone installer I call, when I need him. He comes over himself and does the job and I give him a girl when he finishes the job, or else fuck him myself.

  While I was working for Madeleine I discovered a girl can even trade her way, around the world. I mean traveling in an airplane, not eating an ass. Madeleine came from South Africa, and she liked to go back to visit, except the trip was expensive, about $1,000 first class. One of her best customers was a very horny guy who was one of the owners of a foreign airline. For her round-trip ticket she would give this john girls worth the amount of the ticket, and thus, even after paying the girls their share, she saved fifty percent on the price of the trip.

  When I started my own business this same guy came to me and wanted to trade tickets for my girls. I said I would work something out with him when I was ready to go to Holland again. This sort of trade deal is really worthwhile if you want to take a long trip to Hawaii or Australia. Then you can really feel the difference in working out the tickets in trade.

  One travel agent who did indeed send me customers used to come around and want a girl for free. I have never been tempted to give it away free to someone just because he sends me customers. If you once start that, everybody is wanting it free for bringing in new customers, and it starts to snowball, and soon you’re screwing everybody for free. The travel agent tried to be businesslike. He pointed out that for every ten tickets he sold to Europe he got one for himself free. I told him I was very sorry, but I could not compete with the airline’s incentive program.

  Nevertheless, at Christmastime, when some of my really big spenders call me, I give them a freebie myself as a sort of holiday celebration. And last Christmas I thought it was an appropriate time to send out a tasteful Christmas card to my customers and at the same time remind them of my existence and give them my latest address. After Christmas I received quite a few ‘phone calls from men who thanked me for letting them know my new number and where I was.

  So this, then, is the story of my inCOME and outLAY as New York’s biggest madam. I think it proves that if my business could be made legal, the way off-track betting is in New York, I and women like me could make a big contribution to what Mayor Lindsay calls “Fun City,” and the city and state could derive the money in taxes and licensing fees that I pay off to crooked cops and political figures. Since the beginning of time no government has ever stopped prostitution, because men want it. The proof of this is that my best clients represent the highest echelon of government and business circles and keep me in business no matter how often I am harassed by the police and have to change addresses.

  The coarse, thieving, aggressive street hookers are something else, I realize, but those of us who stay home quietly and merely take calls without soliciting on the street or in hotels should be allowed, indeed encouraged, to carry on our business in the delicate, hygienic, genteel manner in which I conduct mine.

  15. FOR PLEASURE MORE THAN PROFIT

  The old saying “Never mix business with pleasure” does not always apply to the business of pleasure.

  If I didn’t have my heart literally in my work, or sometimes fall in love, I would go crazy. For example, I was in Miami that lonely Christmas after Carl left me, as the house guest of a swinging New York socialite, Dennis Tanner, and his bitchy Swedish wife. After she fell asleep at night, he would come to my room and make love to me till dawn. However, I wanted somebody for myself, to share the holiday fun with, a man to escort me around the parties and private clubs.

  One evening a group of us went to a place called the Palm Bay Club, which was rather stuffy, but quite good fun. Even though my hosts made a point of including me in the conversation and the dancing, I was feeling acutely lonely. Once in a while I would do a little reconnaissance trip around the room, but the attractive men were all attached.

  Toward the end of the evening, as I stood near the bar alone, my famous orange juice in my hand, the reveling crowd around me parted like the Sea of Galilee and out walked one of the most gorgeous men I had seen in Miami – alone.

  He was so stunningly glamorous, he looked like the classic Cosmopolitan fiction illustration of the lover. His immaculate white suit accentuated his even suntan, and his face was crowned with black hair cut in Roman-boy style and rakishly long. I guessed him to be in his late thirties. He had, I hoped, a stranger’s lost look in his eyes.

  As the man walked closer to me, our eyes embraced, and something compelled us to touch each other’s arm. I spoke first. “Are you as lonely as I am?” I asked.

  “I guess I am,” he replied, to my utter joy, “and I could use some charming feminine company.” With zero resistance from me, he took my arm and steered me from the Palm Bay Club, into a taxi, and on to a more swinging discotheque called the Penthouse where we laughed and danced and talked German together until around three in the morning.

  His name was Paul Lindfeld, and he was a famous New York jewelry designer of German Jewish extraction, recently divorced. When the evening wound up he took me to the Jockey Club, where he was staying, and without too many words we slipped into his bed and made love.

  We turned on to each other’s bodies so intensely and became so passionate that the people in the next room started complaining and knocking on the wall. But we just ignored them and continued our lovemaking.

  Before we fell asleep exhausted I felt this was a man I could really seriously fall in love with, and before the relationship went any further I would have to tell him the truth about who I was and what I did.

  I didn’t think he would take the news too badly, since he was a sophisticated kind of man. I felt he could accept my professional status for what it was.

  “Paul, there is something I think you ought to know about me,” I said.

  “I know already,” he said sleepily. “You’re wonderful in bed.”

  “Thank you for the compliment,” I said, “but the matter is slightly more serious than that. You see, if I weren’t good in bed I would be out of business, if you know what I mean.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” he asked, wide-awake now.

  “I am trying to tell you that I am not exactly what you believe I am – the little interior designer on her annual vacation. I am actually a professional woman – a call girl.”

  He sat bolt upright and backed off.

  Before he could speak, I continued, “Please don’t think I am going to ask you to pay me, or anything like that. I wasn’t working tonight. With you it was true desire.”

  And in order to soften the blow, I added: “I just do it to help support my parents.”

  Paul was visibly jolted by the revelation, but talked about it a little more, and he accepted it unconditionally.

/>   The next morning I moved out of the Tanners’ house and in with Paul, and we spent every moment of the next few days together falling in love. It was the first time I had felt like this in ages, despite all my experiences. Forget about Evelyn St. John – this was much deeper. We went everywhere together, and he was so gorgeous that I wore him on my sleeve like a croix de guerre.

  Back in New York, after a long, depressing period of not hearing from Paul, I finally did get a call from him explaining how busy he’d been, and we took over from where we left off in Miami. Paul lived on the twenty-fifth floor of an apartment on Central Park South, and the winter panorama outside across the snow-covered park was pure Grandma Moses and terribly romantic. The apartment was elegant, expensive, and tastefully decorated with expensive antiques. The bedroom had an oval-shaped window from which I loved to blow my mind on the view.

  Paul was nicely shaped, precious but not too big, and he was basically a square lover. But we didn’t need gimmicks of any kind. Variations are there usually if you’re getting slightly bored with the normal position. However, when it’s love, the normal position is as exciting as standing on your head and doing it.

  The feelings I had at that moment for Paul were almost as deep as those I had had for Carl. I guess this was the first time since Carl I had felt this way, because I had been hurt so badly that I didn’t want to give myself any more pain. In a way, I had grown up, matured. And maturity comes with suffering, and experience in life, I believe.

  I had a second telephone installed in my apartment exclusively for his calls, and his ego was flattered by that. I was working as a single then, so I could easily take nights off. Sometimes we would go to the theater and dinner, and always we would return to his apartment.

  About a month after we started our blazing affair, Paul wanted me to let him make love to me Greek style. I had never done that before, and I resisted.

  But Paul was persistent. “You’ve done everything in your life. You’ve been a prostitute, and before that you’ve had a lot of men, so if you love me, let me take your virginity in the only remaining place.”

  I loved him, so I let him do it his way.

  Paul was strangely excited by the acquisition of my ass and he got very carried away. He had a rhythm that really shakes your bowels, and he made me unbelievably sore. From that night on he would regularly want me to let him do it that way. In the beginning it kept hurting, but after a while I even started enjoying it now and then, since luckily he wasn’t too big for me.

  Still and all, he gave no thought to my pleasure. His desires were the ones that had to come first, whether I liked it or not. I started recognizing in Paul traits that were disturbingly reminiscent of Carl. Along with his selfish sexuality, Paul was not at all generous – even stingier than Carl had been in New York. Even on a cold winter night, he wouldn’t part with cabfare. This turned me off in a way, even though I still cared for him deeply. I was starting to see other things in my Adonis too. Even though he wanted a steady girl friend, he wanted full freedom as well, and he was not really the type of man to be tied down by one woman. Since the road to love started becoming slightly rocky, I was finding myself with free time on my hands and started circulating among a crowd of swinging friends to distract me from my disappointment in our affair.

  One evening I made a date to meet a group of friends at a bar on First Avenue called My House. My House has a front piano bar and a back room where I was to join the crowd.

  As I picked my way through the place, I caught sight of a girl with blond hair and a round face who looked strangely like me. The trace of narcissism that exists in all of us attracted me to her.

  As I got very close, I heard her speak in a sultry voice, and I knew I would love to make it with her.

  Although she didn’t look like a swinger, the man with her did, so my strategy was to approach him first.

  I went around behind him and whispered in his ear. “Hi, my name is Xaviera, and I am going to make a suggestion that I hope won’t offend you,” I said. “I would really love to be with you and your girl in a swing – preferably just your girl; is there any possibility?”

  It didn’t take a Fuller Brush man to sell him the idea. He started laughing and jumping about and immediately got all excited.

  Then he relayed my proposition to his girl, and she reacted with shock and retreated into her shell and said nothing.

  “Look, if my suggestion will cause any jealousy or ill feeling, just tell me, and I’ll take off. But if you would like to join me and come to a party being given by a close friend, an important politician from Albany, you can think about it.

  “If you like the idea, we’ll take it from there. If you don’t, then you can leave from the party.”

  At the horny boyfriend’s urging they both joined me. His name was Marvin, hers was Lisa, and they had been dating each other for about two years, although both were married to different partners.

  We stayed at the party a couple of hours, during which I took every opportunity to turn Lisa on. And the way you can turn a woman on, or at least tell if she is a sexual type, is to stroke the inside of her arms, or in her hair, or on the back of her neck. If you are sitting down at a table, you can reach down and stroke behind her legs. A sensual woman always reacts to this.

  Mellowed by a few drinks at the party, and semiseduced by me, Lisa and Marvin decided to leave for my apartment around midnight.

  Before we left, I also picked up a big, square Texan who looked very bored and very rich. “If you pay me one hundred dollars,” I told the Texan, “you’ll have a better time than you’re having here. In fact, you might even have one of the most exciting nights of your life. I can promise you a fantastic swing,” I went on, “and you can watch me make it with this girl or you can participate, and you may even fuck me or her.”

  I don’t usually take somebody from a party and. try to turn him into a john, but in this case I recognized the possibility of combining business with pleasure.

  Marvin and Lisa I would never charge, of course, because I liked them as friends. They were for pleasure more than profit.

  By the time we reached my apartment, Lisa had dropped her inhibitions and started slowly undressing, until she was completely nude. Her body was sort of voluptuous, not unlike a Rubens painting, soft and full. Her breasts were not all that big, but they were firm and erect, her lips were moist and tender, her tongue was hungry for sex. Her eyes had a faraway look, knowing what she could expect to come and yet with a childlike innocence.

  I brushed my eager lips against her mouth, her cheeks and nose, while circling her shell-formed ears with my warm tongue. She stiffened and sighed, goosebumps appearing on her arms and legs. My hands reached up to massage the back of her head, and then down to her neck, while her silky blond hair slipped through my fingers like sand on a beach. We both stepped back, and like falling on a cloud, we stretched ourselves out on my bed.

  A fierce desire for her inviting body made my blood course through my body, and I reached with one hand to her left breast, at the same time caressing her right nipple with my tongue, making circle movements around the erect nipple. Lisa, meanwhile, like a kitten beginning to wake for dinner, began to moan ever so softly but deeply. With one hand she nudged my head lower and lower, until she entwined my head and rooted it to the source of her greatest pleasure. With my fingers I gently opened the petals of her sweet flower, and her body moved upward and outward to open a larger door to our pleasurable play. And once opened, there was no way back. My tongue darted in and out, exciting her more and more.

  Marvin and the Texan meanwhile were watching in anticipation, all excited by the view of this loving scene. They both climbed on the queen-size bed, but it became too crowded, so I ordered them: “Get off, please, I want to be alone with my girl.” And they did. All of a sudden I felt like a man trying to protect his girl.

  I know exactly where to find the clitoris, better often than many a man. You open the top of the woman’s v
agina, and there, sometimes hidden away, you will find, like a miniature penis, the little clitoris. It contains the same number of nerves as the male equivalent, so it is intensely sensitive. It also gets a hard-on like a penis, and it is a matter of vibrating your tongue, finger, or vibrator, putting the passionate feeling into the little clitoris to make the woman climax. When a woman reaches her climax, it is almost a reverse working to the man. The little hard-on explodes, the clitoris disappears, and you can feel the whole body shake in ecstasy like a spastic movement, uncontrollable once it gets going.

  As I concentrated on my new play toy, Lisa, her body seemed to me to give forth an aroma of honeysuckle in the spring, and the taste of her was like honey to this hungry bee. As I stimulated her clitoris, her hands sought my head to explore deeper and deeper. All of a sudden I felt the urge to be a man, if only I could fill the deeper void that lay within! In quickening strokes she lifted her body and encircled my head with her thighs, until her body poured out to me, and my cheeks and lips became moist.

  Lisa and I awoke as from a dream and became aware of our male companions. Almost immediately Marvin frantically went down on me while the Texan made love to Lisa. We were perspiring, and our bodies made squishy-squishy noises. Breathing was loud, mixed with moans from me and the delicate, passionate Lisa.

  The combinations and appetites were inexhaustible, and it was almost morning before the bewildered Texan, not quite believing what had happened, dressed and left. After Marvin and Lisa departed, I slept, utterly fulfilled.