Another time I took it upon myself to attend a mortgage bankers’ convention in Miami to further my goodwill, and, naturally, increase my wealth.

On that occasion last winter, I took along one of my stronger girls, Raquel, and checked into the Fontainebleau, where the convention was being held. During the day we would sit by the pool soaking up the warm sun and engaging in social chitchat, while, all the time, I kept my eyes open to see which cabanas the bankers occupied.

On the first afternoon we squeezed in a couple of customers before our late-afternoon nap, and after dinner that night we made our pitch in the Poodle Lounge, where the delegates were all relaxing. I would start up a conversation about being down from New York, and the banker would usually ask, “And what are you doing here in Miami?”

“I am here for entertainment purposes,” I would answer.

“Are you a singer or a dancer or something like that?”

“No,” I would reply, “I am here to entertain the mortgage bankers.” It was as simple and direct as that, and to show you what good customers they were, the first night we had about six men each, and the second night, after word spread like a brushfire, I remember going up and down in the hotel elevator ten times in less than three hours.

Business was so fantastic that we didn’t have the strength to last for the four-day convention. On the fourth morning I woke up so exhausted that I told Raquel, “Pack your bags, we’re flying back to New York today.”

At home in my own house I could earn the same money as administrator while my girls did the strenuous work. However, I believe I built up several lasting contacts in Miami, because many of these bankers still call me whenever they are in New York.

I first gained my good reputation with the stockbrokers in my fledgling days when I operated alone in my little studio and was known to be able to take on half a dozen at one time. While I would be screwing one, the others would be lining up in the kitchen boozing and joking. The more I screwed, the hornier I became, so that everybody went away happy and we all had a lot of laughs as well.

With bankers, and especially brokers, it is important that they are given a scrupulously honest financial deal, because if one of them felt cheated out of his money’s worth, word could spread along Wall Street, and you could lose a slice of your business.

Brokers, while they may be my biggest customers, are not necessarily my favorite ones, especially when they arrive at my house polluted and rowdy and arguing about who goes with whom and for how much. The loud behavior of this particular raucous type, I believe, is a reflection of their ethnic origins, because most of them are of Irish descent.

Last St. Patrick’s Day my house was like Belfast under siege. They arrived in drunken groups, and I had a difficult time keeping order, with them running around wearing nothing but green neckties or bright green ribbons around their cocks, boozing and carrying on more than they were using my girls.

I will say one thing for the American-Irish-stockbroker types, though – they are always horny, and even if the market dips, they still want to come around. But they try to get away for less money.

In a bordello, most ethnic or geographic groups conform to distinct behavior patterns, and I have compiled an alphabetical list of twelve of my most regular patrons and their sexual or social attitudes (otherwise known as Madam Xaviera’s dirty dozen).

AMERICAN ITALIANS are second on the list for the title of most-high-spirited customers; however, unlike their Irish counterparts, they rarely quarrel about costs. On the other hand, they are more selective about their girls than the Irish, and usually demand to go only with blonds.

AMERICAN JEWISH men are among my favorite and most frequent customers. They are also, sadly, among my biggest freaks and weirdos. Many of them seem to be in psychoanalysis with problems arising from a domineering mother or a Jewish American Princess wife who walks all over them.

In the days before I was a hard-working madam I could take the time in bed to discuss their problems and persuade the surprising number who were on the verge of leaving their wives to stay with them. At the same time, I would convince them they were better off spending their money to work out their hostilities in their favorite freak scene, or their frustrations, with an understanding woman than on the couch of some boring shrink. I still have many of these same customers to this day.

A lot of the Jewish doctors who come to me are freaky, usually wanting to be slaves. But I recently had one who told his girl to “lie absolutely still, don’t say a word, act like you’re dead.” This is the syndrome of necrophilia – a desire to copulate with the dead.

As lovers the American Jewish men are capable and considerate, but very uptight about eating pussy. This just doesn’t happen naturally, but once you teach them how, they are not bad at it. They are well behaved in my living room, and even though they drink very little, they usually tip the bartender and often also the maid and the doorman.

BRITISH. They are reasonably skillful, civilized, but slightly cold lovers. Also, they practice a kind of class consciousness even in a brothel. Unlike most other men, when they have concluded their physical activity they never mingle in the living room with other customers. They pay their bill, shake hands, and depart.

DUTCH. Unfortunately, I have to condemn my own countrymen as perhaps the most unromantic and unimaginative lovers of all. After they make “dull Dutch” love, they plonk themselves flat on your body like a pancake and nearly squash the life out of you. What’s more, their living-room behavior is no more redeeming. They sit around for an hour and drink your liquor before agreeing to your price, and sometimes after all that, decide not to go at all.

FRENCH. It is no coincidence that the “trade” name for soixante-neuf is “frenching,” because these men have exquisitely trained tongues. However, their personal hygiene leaves a lot to be desired (that goes for French women, too; I have one girl working for me whom I had to teach to shave her underarms and bathe and clean her teeth properly!). If you can talk Frenchmen into the tub before making love, they are cute little lovers.

GERMANS. They are reasonably robust, rather unromantic, and downright dictatorial in bed. “Mach sofort die Beine offen!” (You will now open your legs!) is their attitude. I have, however, one beautiful German boy who is out-of-sight as a lover, but a pain in the neck as a person. He always gets into arguments with my Jewish customers. Even though he claims his parents’ generation was responsible for what happened in World War II, he still can’t stand Jews, and I always have a problem averting World War III whenever he is around.

GREEKS. On a private basis, Greek young men are the ones I adore most as lovers. They are sensitive, strong, warm, and exciting. Greeks are rarely circumcised, but they are very clean. The older, richer Greeks as customers are very charming and sophisticated in bed, and sometimes slightly kinky. They tend to prefer anal sex, a taste which I believe they acquired in the days when their girls were expected to be virgins when they married and yet their hot Greek blood dictated otherwise. To overcome this technicality, they invented what is known professionally as “Greek style,” and the men still enjoy it that way today.

HUNGARIANS. They are usually an older, gentler generation of men who come in full of European charm, usually carrying gifts of flowers for the madam and a compliment for the girls. “Ein kleines Kompliment hört jede Frau gern.” The Austrians of the same generation are almost the same as the Hungarians.

ISRAELIS. Could not be more totally different from their American brothers. To begin with, they love eating. They are very virile, nicely shaped, hairy, and always horny. But their trouble is that they are very cheap and always try to turn my house into a cut-price bazaar.