Xaviera Hollander - The Happy Hooker - My Own Story

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From Publishers Weekly
Xaviera Hollander has been writing a Penthouse column for 30 years. She chronicled her life as a "high-class New York madam" in 1972's The Happy Hooker: My Own Story, which now returns to print. Frankly discussing lesbianism, bondage, voyeurism and run-ins with lawyers and the FBI, Hollander's book was an international bestseller. In her new epilogue, Hollander rather questionably attests that although her stories may not be as shocking or taboo now as they were in 1972, "the business of sex [has] a new relevance" since September 11. Regan Books will also publish Hollander's new memoir, Child No More, in June (a review will run in an upcoming issue).
From Library Journal
Dutch madam Hollander scored big with this 1972 autobiography, which became a best seller 15 million copies worldwide. Although the book ended up in the hands of respectable readers, it's little more than smut, as Hollander recounts how she left Holland for a job as a secretary in New York, got bored, and became a prostitute and brothel manager (doesn't everybody?). Three decades later, when you can find raunchier stuff on prime-time TV, this is kind of kitschy. This 30th-anniversary edition contains a new epilog.
***
An astute historian of New York prostitution might have heard a small bell ringing in their head upon reading the name of the woman accused of arranging prostitutes for Eliot’s Emperors Club VIP: Tanya Hollander. You see, New York’s most notorious prostitute (and madam) ever, the Happy Hooker, was named Xaveria Hollander. Was it now a family business? We called the old girl in Amsterdam to check.
“No, she’s not my daughter,” Hollander tells us from what she refers to as her “bed and brothel” on Amsterdam’s Gold Coast. “But it’s a wickedly chosen nom de plume.” (We prefer to think of it as a "nom de poon.") Was the Happy Hooker herself shocked by the news of Spitzer’s dalliances? Not really, save for the prices being bandied about. “Is that what they get paid these days?” she asks, referring to the $5,000 allegedly earned by Ashley Alexandra Dupré. “I was in the $100 bracket.”
Let's talk quality of clientele. Is Spitzer really that big of a deal? Who did Hollander meet in the boudoir? “I had my dealings with the White House,” she says. “But it was more discreet. Newsweek offered to pay me a lot of money if I’d admitted that Sinatra was my client. But I never talked. My affairs we’re never sleazy. I might have mentioned something about a crooner from New Jersey, though…”
Hollander has written eighteen books since her seminal tome in the seventies, in addition to writing the "Call Me Madam" column in Penthouse from 1973 to 2005. Coming soon to a bookstore near you: The Happy Hooker’s Guide to Sex-69 Orgasmic Ways to Pleasure a Woman, from New York’s very own Skyhorse Publishing. We're the hooker capital of the world! -Duff McDonald

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On the other hand, a girl can reject a man if he is impossibly drunk or looks like Quasimodo. The girl has to be doing well to afford to turn such a customer down, and a girl who is starving to death will have to take on the assignment no matter how bad he looks.

When a choice is made, one way or the other, I bring the man to the girl and tell her, “Give him a guided tour of the house,” or “Take him to the mirror-room or the bedroom.” We never say things like “Give it to him,” or, as my first madam, Pearl, said, “Here he is, baby, fuck him.”

I always speak with class and handle with class.

Another rule of the house is the level of conversation in front of customers. I don’t want customers alluded to as “tricks,” “johns,” or “suckers.”

Forbidden, too, is talk about money. Sometimes girls get carried away at the big money they are making and start comparing notes in front of the customers.

I have some girls who have come in as shy little secretaries making $130 per week on the outside and think it’s great at first to make $50 extra a night. As they become more successful in the field, they become more competitive and greedy.

This occasionally leads to talk of “How much did you make?”

One cute little button I hired who came from Queens became so money hungry she was rushing men in and out of the bedroom and clicking away like a cash register. “I’ll suck your cock in the bathroom,” I heard her say when the bedrooms were full, and indeed, she got away with it. But in general a man prefers more for his $50.

I like my girls to act ladylike and not like whores.

However, I distinguished between the words “prostitute” and “whore.” My girls are the former.

A “prostitute” is a girl who knows how to give as well as take. She knows how to make a man feel good even if he is underendowed, a lousy lover, four feet tall, and has a face only a mother could love. In that case, she should fake it and let him enjoy what he pays for.

Speaking for myself, I try to always give warmth and tenderness and make a man feel like a king or a baby, whichever he wants, even though he is a cash customer.

A “whore,” on the other hand, takes but doesn’t give – unless it is a small souvenir like VD.

How does a girl behave in the bedroom? That is a matter of decision between her and her customer, within reason and within his budget.

I make the girls understand that this is not some kind of Arthur Murray’s where it is a cut-and-dried case of who leads and who follows. If she has never sucked a cock before, I show her some of my home movies, which also give a good course in eating pussy in case a customer wants to watch that kind of a scene before going himself.

A man mostly wants to relax here and be attended rather than attend. For that reason he will often lie back and ask the girl to do the work, which actually sits well with professional ladies because it makes less of a demand of their bodies.

However, a girl can’t aggressively promote this position, or a man might say, “Let me call the shots – I’m paying the freight.”

Highest on the list of preferences, after straight sex, is what is called in the trade “blow-job,” or fellatio.

If a girl comes to me unskilled in this technique, I teach her how to do it on a banana. How to go with her vibrating tongue just under the head, where the skin is sensitive. And I must say, speaking for myself, I get great pleasure out of giving a man pleasure this way. I don’t enjoy it if he is a boring blow-job, as we call them, one who just lies back and doesn’t writhe or moan.

Another request is for Greek style. That is, anal sex. If the man makes his desires in this direction known to the madam beforehand, he can be put to bed with a specialist. My Greek-style girl is a slim pale American blond who digs it no other way, despite warnings from her gynecologist to lay off, as it were.

Around-the-world, or analingus, is another popular request, but, needless to say, not every girl wants to accommodate this desire unless she can diplomatically coax a man into the bath first and scrub up his rectum good. With this technique, men usually don’t insist if the girl says it turns her off.

On the other hand, some men expect to be taken not only around the world but also to the far side of the moon and back for their money.

There are those who want ten different positions, and their general expression is, “I want my money’s worth,” because to them $50 represents a stiff fee, so to speak. A funny thing about these types is that many of them want to eat pussy, but practically never kiss a girl on the lips, even when they are coming.

What a girl does depends on the amount of time she has, or sometimes the appeal the man has for her.

Some customers are so nice you want to give them the world on a silver platter. I recently had such a man.

This man, Kenneth, was so delicious, with a beautiful body, but had been screwed up by bad sex. He was about thirty-two years old, married to a very square woman, and he had never fooled around or seen a prostitute until he came to us. The man’s looks and manners turned me on.

Even though he was clean, I had in mind something special to do with him, so I suggested we take a shower together, and I washed him up back, forward, upside down, until he was squeaky clean.

Then I took him to bed and started to make real love to him, starting at the toes, sucking each one as though it were a cock.

Then I started kissing and sucking from his toes up and his legs and his knees, at the same time that I was crawling all over his body with my fingers.

I worked my way up to his balls, which I sucked one at a time, while my fingers went to the bridge between his balls and his rectum, which caress he loved.

Then I lifted his ass and went in with my tongue; and he had never had this done to him, and he flipped out of his mind. He was so beautiful, responsive, and clean, and I was going deeper and deeper with my tongue, and his cock and his balls too were going up and down, he was so excited.

Then I put a little jelly on my indicator finger, and I started putting it in his ass, just a little bit, and I could feel that he got very tense. The ass is like a vagina sometimes – a warm opening to put a finger or a cock in.

Then I took my hand away from his rectum, turned him gently over, and gave him a back rub. Then I teased him with my tongue from the top of his neck to his bottom.

Then I tied a little tourniquet of surgical tubing around the head of his cock. This technique delays a man’s orgasm. You tie a piece of surgical tubing, or venetian-blind cord, around the head of his organ, but after he has a hard-on, because otherwise the blood can’t get through. The tourniquet stops the blood from circulating, so the balls get really big and the cock stays up, and he cannot climax.

While I had him this way I greased up a little vibrator and put it in his ass at the same time as I started sucking his cock, and with all that going on he nearly flipped out of his head.

After I had almost driven this gorgeous man wild, I pulled off the tourniquet and made love to him first doggie style, then with my legs around his shoulders, and finally tree style – him standing beside the bed and I hung on to his broad shoulder like climbing a tree. I gently put his big cock into my vagina and a bit awkwardly we climaxed.

On the matter of orchestrating a climax, there is a professional secret to delay premature ejaculation, too. If a girl is sympathetic to the man’s problem, she can give him a tube of ‘Detane’ and tell him to rub some into the head of his penis. It will be sure to slow him down. Sometimes I use a psychological approach, like jokingly telling him to think of his mother-in-law’s funeral if I sense he is going to explode too soon.

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