Open Letter to Heidi Fleiss

by Gary Winters

Open Letter to Heidi Fleiss

The Hollywood Madam the press still calls you to this day.
Remember the headlines? You'd have thought they'd busted the Teflon Don all over again. After your arrest in an undercover sting operation with enough special agents and cops to take over a small country, the prosecutors followed the basic tenets laid down in some kind of hypocritic oath. You were sentenced to thirty-seven months for pandering. That means you provided gratification to others' desires. There was public outrage at the harsh sentence you received while your rich and famous clients got off with nothing. You did twenty-one months, and walked out into a new life in September 1999.
You left California. With a newfound respect for the law of the land you decided to open another brothel, but this time in a little town called Crystal near Pahrump in Nye county, Nevada where the sex business is legal. Pahrump, it's an Indian word. Go ahead, say it: Pah-RUMP. It's the wide-open spaces for little Heidi now. Sixty acres of open space. How you got a piece of property worth four or five million dollars for fifty or sixty thousand is a bit of a mystery, but you've got the paperwork to prove it. As you say, "To be in the sex business--it's a hustling business. You can't be squeaky clean."
In this wild, wild west you're building a stud farm--the only one in the United States--that will cater to women. That's right, women, girls, the female gender. You're getting a lot of flak from the Nevada Brothel Owner's Association, whatever that is. Women in whorehouses is not a problem for them, but they can't abide the idea of women going to a whorehouse. You've got them stirred up pretty good. And guess what. You don't care. Because you're a true-blue American; a hard-core capitalist. You see a need and you're going to fill it. You explain it like this: "A woman might say she can get laid anytime she wants, so she doesn't need a brothel. Well, that's true. My assistant Michael would lay both of us right now. But is that the man you want to have sex with? It's time for women to be able to choose."
I wonder if you ever think about the swinging dicks who put you away, now that you're going to have your own band of hand-picked dicks to put their wives away. Can't you just see yourself saying to the judge, "That's right your honor, your wife is welcome at Heidi Fleiss' Stud Farm. She'll be well taken care of. Her identity will be kept in strictest confidence. She can bring your mother, and your sister, and--by all means-—she should bring your daughters."




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