The girls who, work for me are expected to obey house rules when it comes to dress. Outmoded is the old idea that a brothel is a collection of girls all semi-dressed in baby-doll pajamas or their underwear. This to me represents a sleazy atmosphere, and the only one permitted to wear a negligee is myself. This is always an expensive figure-fitting Pucci or something similar from the best stores like Saks Fifth Avenue or Bergdorf Goodman.

However, my rules aren’t nearly as strict as the most famous house in the world, Madam Claude’s in Paris, where the girls are expected to look immaculate all the time. Madam Claude, whose girls are dispatched as far east as Beirut and as far west as London, insists her girls buy their clothes from certain couturiers and are coiffed at certain hairdressers. She, no doubt, gets her own little kickbacks from these places.

My girls aren’t given strict guidelines on what to wear, but rather what not to wear. I don’t want flashy, whorish clothes in the house. Look like a whore and you’ll be treated like one is my belief.

I try to set an example in appearance for the girls, and I come on as natural as possible. I don’t wear any makeup, and my hair is always hanging loosely to my shoulders, arid always shiny clean. I try to make the natural atmosphere clear through my personality, and not so much through my looks, although my looks are good enough, I suppose. I don’t cover them up with artificial eyelashes, wigs, and false nails as a lot of girls do. I don’t even wear nail varnish, except on my toes.

I look like a fresh contemporary girl, which is one of the reasons I do pretty well. My personality comes on strong, and this is one of the things that distinguishes one house from another – the personality of the madam. And that is also, why I am careful never to hire a girl with a stronger personality.

As far as the girls’ choice of dress goes, they usually decide on something to flatter their particular physical attributes – a décolleté gown for a girl whose best feature is her bosom, hot pants with matching panty hose for a girl who has great legs, and so on.

Hot pants are big with men, because legs turn a man on. Surprisingly enough, when a man comes into a brothel he doesn’t seem to care much what the girl’s face looks like. Obviously, he’s not going to make a grab at one who looks like Phyllis Diller, but to a customer, boobs, bottoms, and legs, in that order, are more important.

Age, of course, is another factor in a man’s choice of bed companion. Somewhere along the line most men think girls should all be nineteen or twenty years old. A girl can deceive them a few years, but you can’t claim a girl who is twenty-nine is twenty-one. It doesn’t work.

Men in their late twenties to forties don’t mind a slightly older girl, and if she has a good personality, she can even be older.

I have one girl working for me, Carol, who is thirty-six and the mother of two teen-agers. Carol has a groovy head – that means she is well-read and intelligent – and genuinely loves men, and they can see it. American men crave affection from prostitutes, and Carol knows how to give it to them. If a bashful man walks in, she puts him at his ease by taking him to the bar, charms him, then guides him into bed. They seem to forget this girl is not eighteen, but twice that age. Of course, the soft lighting in the living room helps, too.

A lot of customers have a problem choosing a girl, either out of shyness or because they are overwhelmed at the possibilities for selection. If that happens, it is up to me. I stand near him at the bar in a slinky outfit, softly put my hands on his leg at the inner thigh to put him at ease, and turn him on a little, then ask, “Would you like to make your choice?”

Some are slightly embarrassed or don’t wish to embarrass the girl, so they will call me into the bedroom and say, “May I have the redhead sitting on the couch?” Or, “I like the girl in the white blouse.”

Sometimes a hayseed from Chattanooga, Tennessee, is too confused to make a suggestion, so I make it for him. For me, making the decision is sometimes difficult, because all the girls are equally nice and dear to me, and I hate to favor one over the other.

However, the girls who live in and pay rent have the priority over the callers.

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.