Chapter 6
Juliette works alone.
She's a stunning brunette with a flawless ivory complexion, expressive hazel eyes, a soft, vulnerable-looking mouth, and a perfect size seven figure. From a good family in the state of Washington, Juliette left home when she was fifteen and went to San Francisco, where she became involved in the drug culture. She lived in the Haight-Ashbury district when it was still a reasonably safe place to live, before the underworld moved in and took over. At eighteen, Juliette had slept with three or four hundred different men and women, she says, and sex was no longer even vaguely interesting to her. She met an older man, a construction worker, who asked her to get married. She said she didn't have anything else to do at the time and she kind of liked the guy.
"He was sweet, but awfully square, and little by little he found out that I wasn't what he considered wife material. You know the bit-he wanted me to settle down and have two or three children, take care of a house, join social organizations. Well, I didn't want to live out my life in misery the way my mother did. My folks weren't happy, they just stayed together because of their religion and because they felt responsible for me and my brother. They finally got a legal separation, but of course they blamed it on me, because I dropped out of high school and disappeared. My brother did all the things they wanted him to. He was four years older than me. He went into the service even though he really wanted to stay out of it. We were pretty close, you know. But my parents kept ding-donging at him about what people would think and my dad was really uptight. Gung-ho for America, right or wrong, that sort of thing. My brother let himself get drafted and he was killed in Viet Nam. To this day, even though my folks don't even speak to each other any more, they both feel proud of my brother and insist that he did the right thing by going to Nam and getting killed. Well-they aren't proud of me, but I don't feel guilty about any of the things I've done."
When Juliette and her construction worker husband divorced, she left La Jolla, where they lived together in a neat little bungalow, took the money he gave her for the divorce, and went to Reno.
"I got a job as a cocktail waitress but lost it after the manager found out I wasn't twenty-one. At the time, I didn't know how to go about getting fake I.D.'s. But in the three days I worked as a cocktail waitress I made enough contacts to live well, which is the way I like it. A girl has to be very careful in Reno, though. At the time I was there, hooking was a dangerous occupation. The fuzz, you know. Still, I was able to make enough to pay my way to Vegas. Perry told me there's a lot more money floating around there for a girl like me."
Perry acted as Juliette's procurer during her Reno days. He was a small-time hanger-on around the vice industry. "Actually," said Juliette, "Perry was more hot air than anything else. He said he had all those contacts, but I think most of his contacts were wishful thinking."
At this writing, Perry is back in the Nevada State Prison, his third trip there since the late 1960's. "But Perry did steer me in the right direction, I mean to Las Vegas. I decided to go it alone after he was picked up in Washoe County, mostly because I can't see paying a pimp to make contacts for me. It's a lot safer to work with somebody, but I play it pretty cool. I have a regular nine-to-five job in an office and never bring a trick to my apartment. Lately, I've been working nothing but conventions and I command a high price."
Before Juliette's reputation became good enough to let her wait for the telephone to ring, she went about the business of meeting her clients in a difficult as well as dangerous way. At this writing she never works the streets, never takes a chance on getting arrested for soliciting. "Because I've never been in jail and I don't intend to do anything to get me there. But I took all kinds of chances in the beginning, chances that make me shudder when I think about them now."
For the past few years, Juliette has lived what she considers the good life. She awakened one night out of a drug-induced stupor and decided to get off drugs. "People will tell you it's impossible to break the habit without professional help, and I'm sure some people can't go it on their own. But I did, and I'm sure I'm not the only person who ever did it the hard way. I took a good look at myself that night and realized I'd be dead within ten years if I didn't do something quickly."
It took her four weeks. "It was hell," she said with conviction. "Plain old unmitigated hell."
She said she depended on word-of-mouth advertising as well as repeat business in her avocation. Shortly after she arrived in Las Vegas she took a business course so she could support herself in case hooking didn't work out. For the past six or eight months, Juliette has been branching out, and she's seriously considering giving up her office job. With a vivid smile, she explained, "I've worked myself into a position where I'm not able to handle all the men who call me. So I've contacted two other girls to fill in for me. They're gorgeous girls, and intelligent too. Quality, if you know what I mean." She laughed. "I never thought I'd be a madam, but in a way I guess you could say I am one now. But so far, I've never taken a percentage from the girls who fill in for me. I know I probably should, but I just haven't wanted to."
Juliette is an avid reader of the two Las Vegas newspapers. She knows when and where a convention is going to be held. "This is really the town for a girl who specializes in conventions, because there are always several. Some of them I wouldn't touch on a bet. I command top money for my services, and a lot of the men who come to conventions expect to get a high quality girl for as little as twenty-five dollars."
Her favorite conventions are political ones. The ones she likes least of all are the American Legion and morticians. "Because the men who belong to the American Legion are chintzy, and say things that rub me the wrong way. For instance, most of them would like to see the country get involved in another war, and they're hard-nosed about people I like and respect. I mean, men who were conscientious objectors during the Viet Nam thing and had the courage of their convictions either to go to jail or leave the country to keep out of that sad and unnecessary war. Legionnaires insist that the C.O.'s were all cowards, which I know isn't true. Naturally, there were some men who didn't go to Viet Nam because they were afraid. Historically, there always have been. But I feel that the honest conscientious objectors were far more courageous than those who went because they felt they had to. A lot of my friends objected to the war in Viet Nam, and didn't go. Believe me, it takes a lot more guts to stand up for what you believe in and go through all the miseries of it, than simply to follow along like sheep. So I no longer have anything to do with the American Legion men.
"Morticians are all right. It's a personal thing with me that causes me to steer clear of their conventions. I just can't get it on with a man who makes his living taking care of dead people. I'm sure it's my own little hangup, though, and I know very well somebody has to take care of the dead. It's just that I get to thinking about-well, the things they do like applying cosmetics, patching up missing places in faces and that sort of thing-and sometimes I could swear I smell embalming fluid, even though I know that's impossible. After all, they don't practice their trade when they come here to a convention. I think it's just that, well, I like to give a man what he needs. Call it my own special brand of integrity if you like. But I can't come on to a man with the kind of warmth he expects when my mind is all cluttered up with unsavory thoughts about how he makes his living."
Now twenty-seven, Juliette is able to look back on the past with a smile. "The chances I took! And some of the things I was forced to do! Now it seems funny, but back then I was running scared most of the time, and I was lucky to come through it unscathed. Or at least without any more problems than I did encounter."
She was afraid to hang around the hotels and look available. "That's because prostitution was illegal in Clark County. Still is. I didn't want to get picked up for soliciting, so I developed what I thought was a unique way of making marks. Later I found out my method is as old as hooking itself. Women did it back before there were automobiles.
"Thing is, there's always a transportation problem around convention centers. In Vegas, there are plenty of taxis, but it is a busy, bustling city and has been ever since before I was here. Taxi drivers go where the most action is, and the men who come for conventions would rather spend their money on girls or at the casinos than on taxi fare, so a lot of them are pretty chintzy when it comes to tipping a cab driver. So the men come pouring out of the convention centers in a hurry to get someplace and can't find a cab. They wait and wait. So I waited, too, pretended to be waiting for a cab, and pretty soon a man would notice me. We struck up a conversation, something easy for a woman to do when there's a crowd of men, all of them horny and expecting something to happen just because they're away from home.
"I never came right out and offered my services. If a prospective client didn't come on to me, that is, if he didn't ask me to go somewhere and have a drink, or go to dinner with him or something like that, I just moved away and talked to someone else. Usually, though, the first dude I talked to would show some interest in going somewhere and doing something.
"Even then, I still didn't mention anything about money, because it wasn't possible to look at a man and tell whether he was a plainclothesman working for the vice squad, or a genuine conventioneer looking for a whore. Oh, I know a lot of girls will tell you they can smell a cop a mile away. Maybe some of them can, but I wasn't blessed with that kind of second sight. No, I would always wait until afterwards. Until that moment of truth, I kept perfectly quiet about payment. It was taking a chance, and sometimes I didn't get my fee, but I usually did. One man told me he'd been cleaned out at the tables. Well, we'd had an expensive dinner with champagne, and I saw the size of the tip he left for the waiter, which was a big one. I didn't believe him, but back in those days I was too scared to insist. Now I don't have to insist, because no man calls me who isn't willing to pay what I expect for my services."
On two different occasions, Juliette was slapped around. "It happened the same way with both those men. I allowed myself to be picked up at the taxi stand, and from there we went to a place on the strip where we had a delicious meal and took in a show. Then we went to the hotel where the mark was staying. After we balled-and I never short-change a client-I mentioned my fee. They both reacted in the same way, said they'd thought I just wanted a good time. I said I did want a good time, but that included being paid for my services. Of course, I didn't say the exact same thing to both these tricks, and they didn't say exactly the same thing to me, but they were both very angry when they found out they'd taken a prostitute to dinner. One slapped me the other one knocked me down. For six weeks after I got knocked down I had a big nasty lump on my jaw, but I took what I felt I had coming from that one. The one who slapped me didn't have any money. Not cash. He used traveler's checks, and I couldn't make him give me any of those. But I've always felt very good about the way I handled myself with the man who knocked me down.
"My whole face hurt so much that tears came to my eyes. At first I thought maybe my jawbone was broken, but I just picked myself up off the floor and walked calmly over to where the bastard had left his billfold on the dressing table. I extracted two fifty-dollar bills, grabbed my clothes and got out of there. He was still naked too, and I guess he didn't have the guts to come after me. I honestly think he was under the impression that I would leave quietly after he hit me, but he had another thought coming."
Juliette laughed. "I'll never forget the startled look on the faces of the women who were in the hall when I came bolting out of the hotel room without a stitch of clothes on. There weren't any men in the hall, just women. I think they were attending some convention of their own. They all opened their mouths and pointed to me, and some of them screamed. You'd have thought they were looking at a naked man instead of a naked woman. I thought it was funny then, and I still do."
During the years, Juliette has developed a specialty and she commands double her usual fee of a hundred dollars for what she refers to as "special services."
"I learned about it by accident. Something happened to me somewhere along the line that caused me to lose interest in sex. I don't mean I wasn't interested in using my body for the purpose of making money, but even though I make each man feel he's very capable and a wonderful lay who makes me excited, I never come at all except when I get myself off. I've been to psychiatrists and psychologists, because nobody wants to believe they're not normal. But you know, I've come to the conclusion that those mind doctors know a lot less than they pretend to, and most of them are just shooting in the dark. They said I was narcissistic. At first that upset me terribly, but after a while I decided maybe being in love with myself is normal for me.
"But you asked about my specialty. Two years ago one of my regulars came to town, and called to set up an appointment at his hotel. He's an especially nice person. Married, of course, like most of my clients are. I met him originally at a florists' convention, and he's been coming back at least once a year since that first time. We always get together. Well, anyway, he said he had a meeting and might be late, so could he send over a key to his room. I said fine, and pretty soon the key was delivered by a cab driver.
"Well, I arrived at his hotel room, and I don't know, once in a while something comes over me and I can't rest until I've made myself come. When I want sex I have to have it, and don't tell me I should have waited until my trick came, because I've found through experience that I'm not nearly as pleasing to my customers when I'm hot. They don't satisfy me, and I reach a point when I have to have release from some of the tension that builds up in me, so I take matters into my own hands, so to speak.
"His name is Don, and as I said before, he's a very nice man. A year or more ago he developed a sexual problem of his own. I suggested, when he told me about it, that he visit one of the sex clinics because there he was, a man who just simply adored sex, and he couldn't get a hard-on. That's a very sad thing to happen to a man at any stage of his life, but at forty it's terribly depressing. Even though he didn't get the normal satisfaction out of being with me, he still wanted me, which I took as a compliment. Later he came back and said he'd spent a good deal of time and a lot of money at a sex clinic, but he still had his problem. Still, he loved to caress me and kiss me and hold me in his arms, and he's always been a man who loves to eat pussy, so I could see why he still wanted to spend some time with me.
"All right, there I was, needing to get myself off in the worst possible way. I thought there was plenty of time in which to do it because Don had said he'd be late. So I took my time about it. I stripped down and walked around in the hotel room. Nothing turns me on more than to be all alone and utterly naked. All I have to do is walk around in the buff, and I get all excited. So I did that, then I went into the bathroom and took a long, luxurious bath. Then I stepped out of the tub and toweled myself off, all the time admiring myself in the full-length mirrors in the bathroom, which makes me even hotter.
"After that, I walked into the room and sat down in a chair, where I could see myself in the mirror above the dresser. As you can see, my breasts are huge, and I adore lifting them to my mouth and sucking them. Oh, those psychiatrists really had a field day when I told them I liked to do that, but I honestly feel I'm a well-balanced woman.
"So I was sitting there in the chair with one hand holding a breast up to my mouth, sucking away, the other one working around my clit, when Don walked in. I'll confess that I felt a little self-conscious at first, because I was wide open with my legs apart, knees draped over the arms of the chair. But I was damned if I was going to stop at the time, because I was almost to orgasm and felt too good to quit then. So I smiled at Don around the nipple of my left breast and kept right on massaging my clit and sucking my tit. One finger was inside my cunt and my thumb was whipping away at my clit. The whole scene was like something out of a magazine.
"Wonder of wonders! Don took one look at me in all my naked, heated, sucking, finger-fucking glory and got an instant erection, his first in over two years. He just stood there in front of me with his pants down around his ankles and his prick sticking straight out there while I fingered myself frantically and kept right on sucking. I was pleased as punch. Needless to say, so was Don.
"Well, after that, we balled. Right there in the chair. He just lifted me up and set me down on that mammoth cock of his and I sank down on it and he kept his erection all the way to orgasm.
"At first we thought maybe what had happened was just a sometime thing. You know, something that happens once in a while, or once, period. But no matter what I did to him, sucking, licking, I stroked his balls and worked over his cock, nothing! But the very second he saw me sucking my own tit and playing with myself, he got as hard as a rock."
Apparently Don went back home and told other men about the wonderful thing that had happened to him. "Right away, I began getting telephone calls from men who wanted to get turned on with my special kind of therapy. They all said the same thing-that Don had told them about me. I had no idea so many men were walking around unable to get a hard-on!"
About two of Juliette's tricks a week consist of men who especially enjoy watching her perform her specialty. But most of her clients are those who attend the conventions. She said, "I'm going to attend a big political convention tomorrow. I think I can get you an invitation if you'd like. Would you?"
I said yes, I'd be delighted.