Whore Stories (10 page)

Are you as scandalized as I am? Even though the official
Oxford English Dictionary
says it’s only “a jail cell,” the mention of a “calaboose” had me blushing. And as for his lack of liquidity, we’re only saying Wyatt was a pimp, not necessarily a
good
one. A pimp without
any
kind of bankroll is just embarrassing, so it’s just as well Wyatt turned to something for which he was better suited: killing people at close range.

Born in Monmouth, Illinois, in 1848, Wyatt was the fourth of eight brothers and sisters (including a half brother and sister). A restless soul, Wyatt tried unsuccessfully to sneak into the Union army at the age of thirteen. Before the famous gunfight at the OK Corral with the “The Cowboys,” a gang of thugs led by Ike Clanton, Earp worked as a lawman, gambler, farmer, saloonkeeper, boxing referee, and of course, a pimp.

The gunfight at the OK Corral was essentially a bunch of tired, hung-over guys confused about their role in civic matters who got a little trigger-happy. Oh, and Virgil Earp,
not
Wyatt, was the police marshal that day. Regardless, Wyatt, along with some of his brothers and Doc Holliday, saw fit to draw steel from six feet away, laying waste to Ike and his cowboys. Though reports differ about who fired first, we can assume Wyatt got the drop on his man. According to famous frontier lawman Bat Masterson, who once worked with the Earps:

Wyatt’s speed and skill with a six-gun made almost any play against him with weapons “no contest.” . . . I never saw the man in action who could shade him in the prime essential of real gunfighting—the draw-and-shoot against something that could shoot back.

You know the rest. Every few years Hollywood trots out some tough actor in chaps and a trench coat, and every few years down goes the Clanton gang. Somebody rides off into the sunset, and in the end we probably don’t even get a decent full frontal shot. Wyatt Earp died in 1929 after a successful career pimping his wildly exaggerated legend all over America.

SABRINA ASET

PRO
FILE

DAY JOBS:
Devoted mother; scientist

CLAIM TO FAME:
High Priestess of the “Church of the Most High Goddess”

THEATER OF OPERATIONS:
West Los Angeles

Are you familiar with the Greek term
hieros gamos
? In English, it translates to “sacred marriage,” but this isn’t like when Beyoncé married Jay-Z—this is holy, sort of. The notion behind
hieros gamos
is that it is a special kind of sacrament, a union of god and goddess. And since such unions are so hard to come by, in the mid 1980s, a druid-looking fellow named “Wilbur” crowned his new-age yuppie wife, Sabrina Aset “High Priestess of the Church of the Most High Goddess,” and now she is busy taking back the night. And the day. And, it turns out, most mornings. The process involves performing a series of cleansing sexual rituals, adhering strictly to the tenets of a creed she and husband Wilbur invented for a new order called the “The Cult of Isis.” The idea seems to be that she, as a “sacred prostitute,” is able to cleanse men of their wickedness.

Sabrina is a highly accomplished, multitalented, complicated woman. She was born in 1943, and like so many “sacred prostitutes,” she has earned a postgraduate degree. In addition to being a high priestess, Ms. Aset is also a lion tamer, and in one of the numerous articles on the church’s website, she claims to have “sucked cocks through the open window of my car and through a hole in a wall,” which, granted, doesn’t sound all that impressive, unless it was through the open window of a moving car with a lion in the front seat. The point is, she’s a sexjack deity with no patience for palliated storytelling. Plus, sometimes you just can’t beat the real thing, so here’s Sabrina on her website,
www
.goddess.org
, to provide her own quick resume:

I graduated high school with a straight A average, graduated the University of Miami, cum laude in chemistry … attended the University of Oregon Medical School and received my masters in Environmental Sciences/Chemistry from Portland State University. I am a mother first and foremost…. In my calling as a priestess, I have sex with men … every day, several times a day (and even more often would be better). To date I’ve had vaginal sex with over 2,779 different men, oral sex with over 4,000 different men, and being bisexual, I have eaten a couple of hundred pussies along the way.

Perhaps you’re thinking she’s not a prostitute, she’s just a confident woman having a high ol’ time for herself. Well, this is where Wilbur comes in. In the Church of the Most High Goddess, a sacred whore comes with a price. According to High Priest Wilbur, “Church members must contribute money or services to participate in rituals that involve sexual intercourse.” Hey, tithing is a long tradition among the faithful, and besides, while the Church of the Most High Goddess lacks a fancy pipe organ, a nude picture of Sabrina does hang discreetly over the altar. You can play along with your own organ, if you can’t afford the happy-ending-complete-absolution package.

KRISTIN DAVIS

PRO
FILE

DAY JOB:
Gubernatorial candidate; successful hedge fund manager

CLAIM TO FAME:
“The Manhattan Madam,” kicked former NY governor Eliot Spitzer’s freaky ass to the curb

THEATER OF OPERATIONS:
Manhattan

Kristin Davis, “The Manhattan Madam,” ran a first-class cathouse. She treated her women well, and when complaints started piling up regarding New York Governor Eliot Spitzer’s “condom problem” (specifically, his tendency to be “a real weasel” about wearing one), Kristin lost patience with Spitzer and blacklisted him from her operation. She also exposed clients if they became violent or aggressive toward her employees. Kristen treated the ladies like family, acknowledging prostitution as an inevitably short career arc and helping them cultivate skills that might serve them well in the future. And, with a client-book of over 10,000 names, including: business moguls, sports stars, Hollywood celebrities of every ilk, and plenty of satisfied politicians. In fact, in January 2012, Davis testified that she provided women for currently in-deep-shit French politician Dominique Strauss-Kahn. According to Davis, in 2006, when Strauss-Kahn was head of the IMF and in the middle of a presidential candidacy, the Whoreback of Notre Dame blew up her cell personally, agreeing to front $1,200 cash for a hotel tryst in New York.

So you see, Kristin Davis was more than a run-of-the-mill madam—she was an empresario.

After a few perfunctory stints in Los Angeles as an escort, Kristin saw an opportunity to improve the business, and she moved back to the Big Apple. To be fair, her goal was well within reach, as most escort services were presided over by a glorified pimp and boasted a few telephones, a nice batch of herpes, and low-grade blow. Kristin had always been smart. She finished high school at fifteen, went to college graduating with a business degree and later a master’s in psychology. Furthermore, before she opened shop, Kristin honed her business skills as the vice president of a New York hedge fund. With her business acumen, her people skills, and two enormous boobs, Ms. Davis’s business would, at its peak in the mid 2000s, bring in over $5 million a year. She offers a glimpse of her business model in her bestselling memoir,
The Manhattan Madam
:
Sex, Drugs, Scandal and Greed Inside America’s Most Successful Prostitution Ring
.

“A professional politician is a professionally dishonorable man. In order to get anywhere near high office he has to make so many compromises and submit to so many humiliations that he becomes indistinguishable from a streetwalker.”

—H. L. Mencken, American satirist, essayist, and critic

Like any good cult of personality, she first needed a badass madam moniker:

I chose my madam name, Billie, after the teenage outlaw Billy the Kid. I was a young woman living outside the law, but working in a man’s world, profiting from the illicit desires of all types of men, from blue-collar workers to celebrity millionaires. I needed a name that was both sexy and ballsy; a name that said, “Don’t mess with me, buddy”; a name for a vigilante and an enforcer of the peace. And so to the more than 10,000 clients I accumulated in five years as the leader of the most successful call girl game in Manhattan, I was Billie.

So she was Billie the Trick, a sharpshooting reverse cowgirl with a bright future. Ms. Davis was right. Nobody ever messed with the great outlaws, like Billy the Kid or Ned Kelly or, indeed,
Whore Stories
favorites like Butch and Sundance. Until somebody did. The inevitable vice crackdown obliged the Manhattan Madam to move to the less-forgiving confines of Riker’s Island for a four-month getaway. Today, though, Kristin is an advocate for women’s issues and for reform. In a wildly ironic move, she staged a failed, yet spectacularly salacious gubernatorial campaign in 2010 running on an “Anti-Prohibition” ticket and urging the legalization of pot and prostitution. She also has plans to open “Hope House,” a nonprofit facility offering support and shelter for victims of sex trafficking.

Through it all, Kristin also found time to date future Hall-of-Famer Alex Rodriguez, an inexcusable lapse on her part, A-Rod’s mammoth dingers and hot-frosted tips notwithstanding. But we’ll let that one slide, Madam Manhattan—you’re a piece of all right.

DENNIS HOF

PRO
FILE

DAY JOB:
Star of the HBO docudramedy,
Cathouse

CLAIM TO FAME:
America’s Pimpmaster General

THEATER OF OPERATIONS:
Nevada

Dennis Hof is a shrewd businessman with an uncanny prescience about how to make money off of all things prurient. Known far and wide as “America’s Pimpmaster General,” this horny, bald, fat man with cherub cheeks and hairy man-boobs down to here, appeared in the HBO reality series
Cathouse
saying things like “Guys know what they think sex is worth. . . . But they don’t know what it’s worth to dress up in women’s underwear.” Insights like that are the reason Dennis Hof gets to hang out in the Nevada desert with a harem of beautiful women performing metrics on panties, while you and I continue to slog away at our day jobs.

Hof made his fortune in San Diego real estate before buying the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in 1992 and turning it into a veritable Disneyland of sex. Indeed, Hof’s motto at the Bunny Ranch is “Not Just Sex—An Adventure,” which sounds suspiciously like that trip to Veracruz where you learned the Spanish word for gonorrhea,
gonorrea
, which doesn’t make it much easier to take. But Hof insists his sporting house is a good clean establishment—no festering diseases here. He claims it’s more like a time-share, just a little fleshier, a little more ambitious. In an interview with FRED Entertainment (formerly “Movie Poop Shoot”) Hof says:

My vision, my dream is to close up half the Starbucks in America and make mini-Bunnyranch Expresses out of them. Stop by for a little tension release. Starbucks has everybody amped up on caffeine. I want to bring ’em down a notch. A guy can come out of his office, go to the Bunnyranch Express and fifteen minutes he’s back in his office and it’s not so bad of a day for him.

So far he hasn’t said anything about screw-thru windows, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out soon enough.

Hof is mum on his early life, offering only that he grew up around Tempe, owed a chain of gas stations, and had two sons whom he’s disowned for “disrespecting the family,” a grievance some may find ironic. Hof, on the other hand, may count these among his achievements:

1. Enjoys referring to porn king Ron Jeremy as “my bitch.”
   

2. On again/off again boyfriend of Heidi Fleiss.
   

3. Resembles the character of “The Judge” in
   Blood Meridian.
   

4. His “good friend” Larry Flynt refers to him as “Pimpmaster General.”
   

5. Is proud to be, in his estimation, “The Colonel Sanders of Pimps.”
   

Today, Dennis Hof,
Cathouse
, and the Moonlite Bunny Ranch are all going strong. One of the novelties at the Bunny Ranch is the porno “fantasy camp” where folks with a load of disposable income have the opportunity to do unspeakable things with real-life porn stars. If that’s not their cup of shit, however, they can join Hof and the girls on “Armed Forces Appreciation Day,” when soldiers ride for free, or they can attend “Freak of the Week” parties, where the “bar is raised,” whatever that means. Over 500 Hof-approved hos are available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; however only 40 to 50 are actually onsite at any given moment.

The battle against legal prostitution continues in Nevada, with Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D. Nev.) threatening to limit and tighten laws on whoring, but Dennis Hof isn’t going down without a fight. “Harry Reid will have to pry the cathouse keys from my cold, dead hands,” he cocks crowily. Currently getting preparations in order for the “Alien Cathouse” he’s opening with Heidi Fleiss, Hof is keeping the Comic-Con contingent on edge as to whether or not he will be successful in finding intergalactic whores with standards low enough to take on the Trekkie hordes.