7-B. THE PERMANENT IMPOTENT FREAK. He likes lots of girls in group scenes, or likes to watch lesbian scenes and doesn’t care whether the girls are black, white, or green. His permanent debility is caused either by age or some massive complex, and his preferences include fingering the girls until they climax (or fake it), just eating them, masturbating while the girl looks on, and some even like anal intercourse with a dildo or even go as far as carrots, sticks, beads on a string, ice cubes, or any other miscellany that will go up there.

12. BIFF-BAM-THANK-YOU-MA’AM

As long as there are grown men with adolescent-originated emotional hang-ups that bubble to the surface as their sex drive, there will always be the “freak…” A freak is basically anyone who needs fantasy, degradation, or punishment in order to achieve his interpretation of erotic gratification.

I classify freaks in two categories: sadists and masochists, who need to inflict pain or have it inflicted; and weirdos, or sickies, whose preference is for more subtle, way-out fantasy.

Based on what I see and what I hear, I would guess that as many as one in ten adult American men has a freak streak, latent or blatant, in his sexual makeup.

Sadists and masochists, referred to by the cognoscenti as “S and M,” or “slaves and masters,” are the most prevalent of the freak syndrome, and ninety percent of those that I know are slaves, preferring to have punishment inflicted rather than mete it out.

Being both master and slave is very rare and would be like being heterosexual and homosexual all at the same time.

There appears to be no obvious reason for a man becoming one in preference to the other, and an interesting illustration of how two people, exposed to identical environmental influences, can react in opposite ways is a pair of brothers I will call William and David Lyons.

The Lyons brothers grew up in a home presided over by a tyrannical mother and a doormat of a father, and both harbored tremendous amounts of filial resentment. As a result, both men became freaks – one is a heavy sadist and the other a meek masochist.

William, the masochist, is called the “Humble Servant” in my house and pays to be treated like one. He comes up regularly, gets into an apron, and wants to be ordered around like a houseboy.

If by chance the Humble Servant completes his list of chores, like running the errands, doing the dusting, and even washing out the girls’ stockings and underwear, we accidentally on purpose drop ashtrays full of matches, ash, and cigarette ends on the floor, and he gratefully cleans them up.

Freaks are not, as many people suppose, faceless little misfits slinking around corners hoping to get splashed by a passing taxi or stepped on for free.

Some of America’s wealthiest and most respected citizens have been beaten, chastised, insulted, dressed up like girls, chained like dogs and even ordered to bark in my house, and have paid big money for the privilege.

There is so much money in freak scenes that one girl I know bought herself a beautiful villa in Switzerland with the proceeds of a twice-weekly visit from her freak boyfriend over the period of only a year.

But to me that higher fee is still not always worth participating in freak scenes, for both moral and business reasons. You might think it would be quick, easy money to land someone a quick right to the jaw or give him a push down a flight of stairs, but that is not the case. Freak scenes are far more subtle and require the patience of a Job and the psychology of a Freud.

For that reason there are professional girls who specialize only in freak scenes. A recently published book on sex claims that sado-masochistic scenes are generally done by older prostitutes who are no longer attractive enough to get straight customers. This is not entirely true. The girls are older, and often unattractive, but that is because they have the maturity to understand where a freak’s head is at and the experience to know how to cope with it. As far as looks go, freaks are generally not interested in attractive feminine girls as masters in their scenes, preferring tougher-looking types.

Freak scenes are just that – scenes. They are well-staged one-act plays with a beginning, a story line, and an end, but not necessarily a climax, as sex is often an unimportant aspect of their game.

To many it’s a harmless romp elaborately acting out an immature fantasy. To others it can be a sick and degrading addiction.

One of the most tragic I ever witnessed involved a stage and movie star, and it happened just this spring.

One Sunday afternoon when it was quiet and I was looking forward to a much-needed rest, I had a phone call from Laura, the black girl I’d swung with at Madeleine’s. She wanted me to do her a favor, for money, of course.

“I know you don’t make house calls anymore if you can avoid it, Xaviera;” she said, “but do you think you could break the rule this once for me?”

Laura explained that she wanted me to participate in a way-out freak scene involving a famous showbusiness couple who had a townhouse in the fashionable East Sixties.

“You’re the only one I know who can get into it without a whole lot of hassle, and you may even enjoy it,” she said.

I liked Laura. She was fun-loving, freaky, and, like me, she really enjoyed her work. Since leaving Madeleine’s she had become a top-notch courtesan, catering only to the crème of the carriage trade. I wanted to help her out, and I also remembered that caramel-colored body of hers and got horny just thinking about it.

“Okay,” I told her. “Give me the address, and I’ll come right over.” Twenty minutes later I entered the four-story brownstone and met the famous couple.

“Thanks for coming,” Laura said. “Let me introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Showbusiness.” Through the grapevine I was already aware that the woman and her former husband were well-known swingers in New York high-society bedrooms, but she divorced him when his gradually increasing hang-ups finally turned him homosexual.

Her current husband, it was said, now scouts the city for young girls to give her for their little slave scenes. The actress, however, picks up the tabs.

Inside their house, where the atmosphere reeked of money, and success oozed out of the woodwork, we had a brief guided tour before the raven-haired woman, dressed in an exquisite turquoise silk house gown, led us upstairs.

Adjoining the bedroom was a bathroom where a Jacuzzi whirlpool bath was all ready. Without any prompting from the couple, Laura started to remove her clothes, and asked me to take mine off. The idea was for her and me to get into a swing. We started caressing each other as we climbed into the whirling tub. Laura sat on the side of the bath, and I knelt down doggie fashion and started kissing her all the way down her sinuous brown body to her familiar purple pussy with the springy hair.

All the time I was doing this the water was gushing against my clitoris from behind, and we were both getting very excited. The couple stood near the door, and the actress started stroking her own body through the soft silk of her gown, while her husband was saying, “Wow, give it to her, baby.”

Laura too was gurgling with pleasure, and soon she started to squeal as she climaxed and slid down into the tub.

This turned the actress on like a 100-watt lightbulb, and she wanted her own action. “Let’s go inside and get down to some basics,” she said impatiently. So we climbed out of the tub, toweled off, and adjourned to the bedroom for the heavy freak scene.

Laura, who knew the script well from regularly doing it, shoved the beautiful actress roughly down onto the bed and started undressing her. Without any resistance she removed her gown, panties, and bra, and I must say, for a forty-year-old woman who was the mother of a child, she had a dynamite body – slender and delicate, with big, strong tits and milk white skin.