I recognized him immediately, much to his distress, and when he saw me striding toward him he turned purple. Three weeks before, in New York, Mr. Schwartz had stiffed me for $150 with a bouncing check, and when I tried to call him up, the telephone number was a phony. It was divine justice that I ran into him now. But as I approached the couple, the craziest thing happened.
Mr. Schwartz, who was about five years younger than God, whispered something hurriedly to Mrs. Schwartz, who is his approximate contemporary, and they both got up and started to jog!
They both look like they can hardly cross a road in a high wind, and here they were dashing down a beach in the blazing sun. I started to follow, but then I said, To hell with it; he’s staying at the Americana, so he has to come back this way if he doesn’t drop dead in the meantime.
Now, there is one thing I would rather not do, and that is to embarrass a man in front of his wife. I would never be indiscreet. But if someone deliberately cheats me, then I have no scruples. So I just stood there biding my time, and eventually Mr. Schwartz returned, flushed and puffing, and he looked like a toad.
“Mr. Toad, uh, Mr. Schwartz?” I said, and stepped casually in front of him. He couldn’t find his voice and wished he were invisible.
“Aren’t you Mr. Schwartz?”
He nodded his head as if to say “Yeah” and got rid of Mrs. Schwartz with the same whispering expertise he used to make her jog down the beach. She was obviously curious, but I’m sure she didn’t suspect I was a hooker, because I don’t look like one at all.
“Mr. Schwartz,” I said, “I would appreciate it if you would give me cash money within the next fifteen minutes, because your check bounced on me.
“If not, it will be the easiest thing in the world to check your room number and tell your wife who I am and what you have done with me.
“Plus, I suggest you should not give phony checks or telephone numbers to girls anymore.”
He hurried away and came right back with my $150, and I feel sure it will be a long time before he visits a brothel without something more than his cock in his hand.
So, you see, sometimes a man is forced to be honest by accident; otherwise they would fool you out of a lot of your money. I have been cheated out of so much money it’s unbelievable, but that is another story in another chapter.
The next night I made my first professional appearance in the casino to scoop up some of that big bread, but first there were a few things I had to learn about hustling in a place like that.
The first rule to observe is never be too obvious in what you’re doing. With big money like that at stake, the house doesn’t want some little hustler taking away a high roller who is on either a winning or a losing streak.
If he’s winning big, the house will object because they want the chance to win some back.
If he’s losing and you say to him, “Why continue to lose money on the table, come with me and have some fun,” they also react, because you’re taking away potential revenue. So either way you have to be cool.
The second rule is don’t interrupt a man when he is on his roll. He is likely to be brusque and ask you to go away. Gamblers are known to be very superstitious.
Wait until he is definitely through, and then go in.
I made some mistakes, understandably, on the first night, but after that I quickly learned how to operate. To begin with, I walked in wearing one of those see-through dresses, very transparent, very sexy and revealing, and the whole room noticed me and went grrrrowl.
The women, most of all, said, “Look at that, wow, she has nothing underneath, not even underpants!”
Next thing I knew I was taken out like a little pussycat: “Lady, would you please remove yourself from the premises,” Carlos, the pit boss, said.
I didn’t know they were so strict in their rules of dress. Catholic squares! So I made it with Carlos, and that saved my head, but he warned me: “Xaviera, please try not to be so conspicuous in the future.”
I came back again fully dressed, wearing no makeup, just a little eye shadow and lip gloss, and making, I believed, a clean, fresh impression. I also behaved conservatively, but by now the men were watching me like wolves.
I picked out a man who was playing with $100 and $50 chips who had no woman beside him, and he was my target. I stood back, caught his eye, and gave him a suggestive smile and a sexy look, and he noticed me.
Then I worked my way in beside him, and at the first opportunity, asked him to teach me a few gambling rules.
“Wait just a while,” he said, “and we’ll go have a drink at the bar, and I’ll explain them to you.”
When he was through we went to the bar, chatted awhile, and I said, “I guess you’re here with your wife?”
“No, I’m here alone,” he said, “so why don’t we go up to my room and discuss the rules of gambling?”
In the first week or two I took my prospects to the bar, gave them a little sales talk, changing it each day to add something nice and personal about each man. I also usually gave them the story that I was a secretary from the United Nations in Puerto Rico on vacation and trying to earn just $50 to pay for my hotel room. Telling a man that kind of story makes him feel he is not a john.
However, if the man asked me to stay over in his room for the night, I said, “I would love to, but you will definitely have to raise the fee to $100.”
But I never asked for cash “up front,” because that strikes me as too whorish.
As my action accelerated, I dropped the bar and the corny story about the rules of gambling or being a secretary on vacation, because it was all too time-consuming. Instead I developed a smooth, nonchalant way of shopping the men with an arrogant look and a subtle shake of the head – left to right, yes or no – and we got straight on to business. Most men are happy to do that and get back to the tables, and pretty soon I was well established, making $200 a day, plus I had tons of time left to relax on the beach and do my own private thing.
My daily routine usually was as follows: In the morning I went to the beach, found a canvas chair, sunbathed, swam, and fooled around with some young kid.
That’s one of my hang-ups. I love to seduce young boys around seventeen, or nineteen at the most. Most Jewish boys are in Puerto Rico with their parents, so I have to come on like a big-sister type so as not to arouse their suspicions. I take them into the water or for a beach walk, then drag them back to my room like a lioness stalking her prey.
Being naturally always horny, I usually give them a free blow-job straight away; then I screw their pants off.
While I was living with my fiancé, I got so used to sex at least once a day that even though it is now my profession, I still enjoy straight fucking as long as the people are nice.
Usually these young boys climax one-two-three, so I take my time on the second time around to teach them how to control themselves, how to please a woman, the different variations, how to caress her, kiss her, suck her, and not to be too rough, but nice and gentle.
So in the early afternoon I would usually give away all my freebies to the young kids, then send them back to their families.
If I may be immodest for a minute, I will estimate that 25 percent of all Jewish youths who vacationed in Puerto Rico between February and April, 1970, were taught the art of love by me. A few fathers, customers who thought I was just a horny college girl paying her way with favors, even chipped in and paid me to educate their sons.
Around four P.M., when the sun was no longer strong and the bars were closing for siesta, I would set out to turn two tricks. My daytime working area was around the lobby of the Americana or the El San Juan Hotel, where I would stand outside the bar or the drugstore and approach a likely-looking customer on the spot.