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interview, writing on Monday May 10, 2010ADD COMMENTS | Tags : interview
interview, writing on Wednesday Feb 24, 2010
The Lady is a Pimp
What’s a nice girl like Dyana doing as the head of a New York City brothel? Exactly what she wants to
Dyana puts out another cigarette She’s several smokes into our interview and well past her initial apologies for the habit.
Despite the general clatter and confined racket of people eating dinner in the West Village restaurant in which we sit, she manages to speak intimately.
“A lot of guys really get into going down on prostitutes, They think, I can make you come like no other guy I know you’re only in this for the money‚ – I’m not naive like the others‚ – but I can break through that shell and make you come too,’” she says with only a hint of pity in her English accent “Making a hooker come is second in male fantasies only to making a lesbian convert”.
As proprietress of a Manhattan brothel called Sterling Ladies, Dyana has become quite adept at sniffing out‚ – and catering to‚ - men’s sexual fantasies She says the most unusual clients she’s encountered thus far was a group of five businessmen who were married, it seemed, and shared four Sterling Ladies girls at once, fucking them all in front of each other.
“Anything you can imagine can be discussed. Anal and tit-fucking are standard. A blowjob without a condom can happen. It’s nothing we en courage but you can control only so much,” she states coolly, adding that all fantasy fulfillment at Bewitchment has one thing in common: $190 for a half hour, $240 for an hour and $400 for a “two-girl special.” Got bigger kinks? Bring bigger tips.
Strangely, having Dyana smash a few of my fantasies makes me feel more intimate with her. I wasn’t being manipulated. The more real she is, the more aroused I become. Chalk part of that up to her undeniable sex appeal. Dyana has exotic features: long blond/brown hair, full lips and dark eyes that reveal her mother’s Mexican heritage. When she rises from our table she exposes a hint of midriff be tween her studded black leather belt, leather pants and crisp white shirt. The restaurant’s delicious scents frustrate my attempts to catch her perfume.
At thirty-four years old, Dyana is younger than I’d imagined for a New York madam, a role that suits her better than some she’s had previously. She’s too poised and pleasant to have stayed the junkie street hooker she was in her rebellious teens, which she says involved hustling Arabs more than putting out. Hard drugs and depression stayed with her through at tempts to detox until she was twenty-nine and into her failed marriage. “Anyone sticking needles in their arm has emotional problems,” she notes. When she began her new life after having kicked coke and heroin, she took the name Dyana, the Roman goddess of birth.