Monday, January 23, 2017

Formative Kink: “The Happy Hooker”

When my older sister left for college, her room became a treasure ground for a certain boy-man hitting puberty but not old enough to drive to that Adult Bookstore just outside town. Those early Elton John and T. Rex albums were fun, sure, but the real gold was a complete set of Xaviera Hollander’s Happy Hooker paperbacks.


My sister’s collection was so complete, in fact, that she even had the book by Larry, also known as “The Silver Fox” and “the man who spent over 3 years living & loving with the incredible Xaviera, in which he tells how he satisfied her needs—financially, emotionally and sexually.”


For those who aren’t of a certain age, Xaviera Hollander was a bit like a sex-positive, more-personable, 1970s version of Heidi Fleiss, but with better business sense and a distinct lack of Charlie Sheen. I always had the sense that you could invite Xavier to your family dinner, and your devout grandmother would probably end the evening still disapproving yet utterly charmed. (Try that with Heidi, and everyone would spend desert worrying about Adonis DNA and tiger blood.)


Xaviera was a secretary, a call girl, a madam, and definitely an inspiration to my older sister—not that I’ve ever asked her, even to this day, which areas specifically Xaviera inspired. And in a very real way, the Happy Hooker books were my true sex education. I’d already started my second pass on the collection by the time my school’s “Health” class got into the biological nuts and bolts of things and my mother bought me the very dry and forgettable Boys and Sex paperback. Xaviera (or her ghostwriter), however, taught me the what, the where, the how, and also the why, even if I was still a shy nerd-boy who wouldn’t have a chance to put any of this into practice until years later.

Xaviera dealt with kink and fetish as well ... which leaves me a bit ashamed to say that as far as details on that score, I only remember one particular episode. And that episode was rather formative in a bad way.


As I remember it now (several decades later), Xaviera had spent a solid day (and maybe evening) being dominant and satisfying her kinkier clients’ kinkier needs. By the end of her last appointment, all she wanted to do was go home and have some straight, simple, vanilla sex to unwind. Only her man at home (I don’t remember if this was “The Silver Fox” or someone else) happened to notice the belt she was wearing.

“That’s a beautiful belt,” he told her, or something to that effect. “It would look great tying up my balls.”

That’s resconstructed paraphrase, yes. Memory is the first thing to go once you hit a certain age. But you get the gist of the situation. Xaviera was utterly disappointed, maybe even angry, at this turn of events. And so was I, but at Xaviera.

At the time, I was still trying to wrap my head around these kinky, submissive desires of mine. I was trying to see them as a good thing, as something that didn’t make me less of a person in some way. And up to that point, Xaviera’s books were so sex positive—but in a way that worked for me, like rough hot sex without a meaningful spiritual encounter could be positive, too—that I was floored when I read that part. Because if even Xaviera could react badly to a kink, what chance did I have in my future and, hopefully, fetish-filled sexual life?

True, even then I realized, somewhere, that her problem was the timing and not the actual kink. But even if she didn’t think the kink itself was “bad,” how would I ever know if the timing was right? Women were already utterly inscrutable to my hormone-addled, boy-man brain. So if I had to negotiate a proper-kink-timing minefield as well, that did not bode well.

I got over it, obviously. And as I gained a few more years and some maturity, I realized how very real and even valuable that scene was. And it was probably the biggest lesson I actually learned from those books. Because even today, living in an almost-FLR with my wife in complete control of my sexual release, some days or nights she’ll just want something simple, something vanilla.

And so will I, though admittedly not nearly as often.


Thanks, Xaviera. Not that I could have said it then.

5 comments:

  1. Wow, you must be a long-lost brother! I remember reading those in my *ahem* formative years, and I actually even remember that passage you mentioned.

    Thanks for bringing back some great memories.

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    1. After college, my sister took the entire collection with her to grad school. I still kind of wish I'd "hidden" one to keep it for myself.

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    2. I believe that she went on to write an advice column for Penthouse in the 70s.

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  2. Vanilla as in 'no-fetish-play' or vanilla as in 'no D/s dynamic'?

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    1. Both (no fetish play and no D/s dynamic), at lest from what I remember.

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