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"  It would be difficult to overstate the thing with the parrots. It&amp;#039;s not that Heidi Fleiss has a bunch of birds, the way some people have, say, four dogs, or even seven cats. It&amp;#039;s that she lives in the middle of the Nevada desert in a small rented house with 24 parrots: her own wildly colored flock. Every few minutes, one of them squawks at an alarming volume. If you use her bathroom, you find yourself face-to-face with an African Grey that has the unnerving habit of plucking off his own feathers with his beak and whining. About a third of the house has been converted into a parrot-specific habitat, misted by hoses and decorated with climbing ropes and dozens of little rubber feet hanging from the ceiling. Some of the parrots sleep in Fleiss&amp;#039;s bed with her, and her sheets, which she says cost $4,000, are pecked to tatters, as is the T-shirt she changed into the minute we arrived here. Earlier today, when we were at the opening of Fleiss&amp;#039;s new Laundromat\u2014called Dirty Laundry\u2014in Pahrump, and there were camera crews from CNN, MSNBC, and Fox filming her, she looked much more the way you expect a celebrity of her ilk to look: instantly recognizable, surgically enhanced, impossibly thin, dressed in stilettos and tight, stretchy clothing. In fact, she looked and sounded very much like the version of herself who appeared on the now-defunct show Blind Date a few years ago looking for a rich boyfriend. But here in her house, in sweatpants, talking to her parrots, Fleiss, 41, is something utterly specific and unprecedented: the former Hollywood Madam, the woman who made millions of dollars in her early twenties providing fuck buddies for Charlie Sheen and sending call girls to Bush (the elder) fundraisers on the arms of senators, the daughter of a Jewish pediatrician, who grew up affluent in L.A. and spent three years in prison for tax evasion and is going to make a comeback\u2014any day now, she says\u2014starting the world&amp;#039;s first legal, wind-powered brothel for women with exclusively male hookers (and a spa), who only wants to talk about birds. Well, and money. It&amp;#039;s a struggle to keep Fleiss tethered to any conversational thread for more than a few minutes; inevitably, she starts talking to one of the parrots. &amp;quot;Hello, Gina! You movie star! Yes you are! Gina G! Hello my friend, hello my friend, hello my movie star,&amp;quot; Fleiss chants, grinning at the red, shrieking bird on her shoulder. &amp;quot;Ruby! Ruby booby,&amp;quot; she says to another. &amp;quot;Braaawk!&amp;quot; replies the parrot. But business, money, and how she&amp;#039;s going to make more of it remain exciting to Fleiss. She is convinced she will clear $30,000 a month from the laundromat alone\u2014many people in Pahrump are too poor to own washers and dryers, and Dirty Laundry will require minimal staff. And once Fleiss sets up her turbines to harvest wind power on the 60 acres of scorched desert she owns in nearby Crystal, Nevada, she is sure she&amp;#039;ll never have to work again. &amp;quot;Except so many women say, `Come on, Heidi, you gotta do the brothel for us; don&amp;#039;t let us down.&amp;#039;&amp;quot; Heidi&amp;#039;s Stud Farm will be her gift to the women of the world, and for Fleiss herself, it will be something new, a fresh frontier in the sex industry. &amp;quot;It would be kind of fun opening up an exclusive resort, and I&amp;#039;ll make it really nice, like the Beverly Hills Hotel,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;ll feel private; you&amp;#039;ll have your own bungalow. The only problem out here is the climate\u2014it&amp;#039;s so brutal. Charles Manson was captured a half hour from Pahrump.&amp;quot; It&amp;#039;s tempting to interpret the heat in the Nevada desert as a punishment for all the sin that takes place here: sexual, commercial, and environmental. It is frying and merciless: If your car broke down while you were driving the 60 miles from Las Vegas to Pahrump, you&amp;#039;d be dead in no time. It seems entirely unfit for human habitation\u2014a logical place only for Manson to flee to and misfits to congregate in, and yet Las Vegas is the fastest-growing city in the country (with a population increase of 83.3 percent over a decade, according to the last census). Prostitution came to Nevada with the gold miners, but Vegas (and Reno) got rid of it in 1951, citing brothels as a public nuisance. Prostitution remains legal here in Nye County, however, and that is why the Hollywood Madam has moved to Pahrump. After Fleiss got out of prison in 1999, &amp;quot;every place where the sex business is legal contacted me for some kind of venture,&amp;quot; she says. She had offers from Turkey and Australia, where she accepted a short-term gig publicizing a legal brothel that was publicly traded on the Australian stock exchange. Then, a few years ago, she got a call from Nevada. Joe Richards, a man she now refers to as &amp;quot;the 200-year-old pimp,&amp;quot; who is currently under federal investigation for attempting to bribe the Nye County commissioner, wanted her to come and revamp a brothel for him. Richards runs three brothels, one of them out of a couple of trailers on the edge of the desert that he has marked with signs declaring it variously &amp;quot;The Cherry Patch Ranch,&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Madame Butterfly&amp;#039;s,&amp;quot; and &amp;quot;Mabel&amp;#039;s House of Prostitution,&amp;quot; along with a &amp;quot;museum&amp;quot; that showcases old newspaper clippings about prostitution. &amp;quot;I said, `Joe! What are you doing?&amp;#039;&amp;quot; says Fleiss. &amp;quot;You gotta get, like, a garter belt and encase it in something and write, `This belonged to Suzette Whatever, who entertained the Flying Tigers during World War II.&amp;#039; Get, like, some weird tools and write, `These were the first abortion tools in the brothel,&amp;#039; you know what I mean? Just make some shit up!&amp;quot; Richards was eager to go into business with Fleiss (and still periodically proposes marriage to her). &amp;quot;So I came out here to do some research,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;And then I realized, `What am I doing? I&amp;#039;m Heidi Fleiss. I don&amp;#039;t need anyone. I can do this.&amp;#039; When I was doing my research, in three months I saw land go from 30 thousand an acre to 50 thousand an acre, and then it was going for 70K! It&amp;#039;s urban sprawl\u2014we&amp;#039;re only one hour from Las Vegas. Out here the casinos are only going to get bigger, prostitution is legal, it&amp;#039;s only getting better.&amp;quot; So she bought her land and cut the 200-year-old pimp out of the deal. &amp;quot;The truth is, deep down inside, I just can&amp;#039;t do business with him,&amp;quot; says Fleiss. &amp;quot;He&amp;#039;s the type of guy who buys Cup o&amp;#039; Noodles soup for three cents and makes his hookers buy it back from him for $5. It&amp;#039;s not my style at all. Who wants to be 75 and facing federal charges? It was different at my age when I at least...come on, I lived really well.&amp;quot; Before her conviction in 1995, Fleiss&amp;#039;s home was a mansion that was previously owned by Michael Douglas at the intersection of Tower Grove and Shangri-La in Beverly Hills. &amp;quot;I was probably worth 10 million dollars at the time,&amp;quot; she tells me. Fleiss says she was offered a development deal at a film studio worth more than $350,000 when she got out of the penitentiary, but she couldn&amp;#039;t imagine how she could live on that amount. According to a coffee-table book she published with now-bankrupt Publisher&amp;#039;s Group West called Pandering, her hookers regularly received $100,000 tips and trips to Cartier from satisfied clients. Pandering is a strange scrapbook of sorts: It pictures receipts from Gucci, snapshots of Fleiss with Victoria Sellers (the daughter of Peter Sellers and Britt Ekland, who owned and ran the Sunset Strip nightclub On the Rox, where Fleiss based her business), and anonymous interviews with Fleiss&amp;#039;s former call girls, all interspersed with Fleiss&amp;#039;s own insights, such as &amp;quot;Men will fuck mud,&amp;quot; spelled out in a wild range of fonts and illustrated with garish cartoons. In the book, Fleiss advises, &amp;quot;If you&amp;#039;re going to run an illegal business, you better be driving the best car, living in the biggest house, fucking the best-looking people, and spending every dollar you make, because sooner or later you&amp;#039;re going to get caught.&amp;quot; Fleiss says she doesn&amp;#039;t miss those days. &amp;quot;I was 22, 25 at the time? It was fun then, but now I wouldn&amp;#039;t want to deal with all that bullshit\u2014the girls and blah blah blah. But the money was really good.&amp;quot; Today, instead of sitting around a pool with a troupe of gorgeous and demanding young women, Fleiss stands next to a bowl of organic nuts with a troupe of gorgeous and demanding birds. They make it difficult for Fleiss to have a normal social life, or even, really, a normal life. &amp;quot;I would&amp;#039;ve told someone they were out of their fucking mind if they&amp;#039;d said in five years I&amp;#039;d be living with all these animals like this. It&amp;#039;s hard-core, how I live; it&amp;#039;s totally a nonfunctional atmosphere for me,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s hard to get anything done because they&amp;#039;re so time-consuming. I feel like they&amp;#039;re good luck though.... I do feel that if I ever get rid of them, I will be jinxed and cursed the rest of my life and nothing I do will ever work again.&amp;quot; Fleiss doesn&amp;#039;t have a boyfriend. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m single and I love it,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m not one of these girls who needs a guy to survive.&amp;quot; Her last boyfriend, the actor Tom Sizemore, was convicted of battering Fleiss in 2003. When you walk in Fleiss&amp;#039;s front door, you are met by a large white poster of a devilish red man under the words &amp;quot;Male Aggression Now Playing Everywhere.&amp;quot; Out of his crotch shoot a missile, an arrow, a gun, and a dagger. &amp;quot;Guys kind of are a hindrance to me,&amp;quot; Fleiss says. &amp;quot;Certainly I have no problem getting laid or anything. But a man is not a priority in my life. I mean, it&amp;#039;s crazy, but I really have fun with my parrots.&amp;quot; It&amp;#039;s an interesting question: Why aren&amp;#039;t there any brothels for women? Is it because men have always had the money and the power...because male aggression is now, as ever, playing everywhere? Is it because women want more of a connection with their sexual partners than you can attain in a paid encounter? Or is it because women, from the time we&amp;#039;re girls, are told in a million different ways that sex is something we should be begged for\u2014paid for, if we&amp;#039;re that venal or desperate\u2014not something we should ever have to ask for, let alone fly to Pahrump to purchase?  Fleiss is convinced that there are plenty of women\u2014women like her\u2014who have lost patience with romance and want to get in and out of sex with the kind of expedience only money can buy. &amp;quot;Plus, everything has changed so much, with women making more money and being in control,&amp;quot; she says. They will come for bachelorette and birthday parties, for the novelty and the bragging rights, or simply because they have the time and the money and they want to get a manicure, a pedicure, and a shag. Fleiss is a businesswoman, a hustler, and she sees an opportunity to sell sex to women, just as she sees an opportunity to sell wind power back to the grid. (Though she&amp;#039;s fond of calling herself a &amp;quot;tree hugger,&amp;quot; when I ask her if her agenda with the planned wind turbines is environmental, she thinks about it for a few seconds and then replies, &amp;quot;There&amp;#039;s a need for it.&amp;quot;) This is something Fleiss, a childhood chess champion, has always had a talent for: noticing a corner of the market\u2014any market\u2014that has gone untapped. As a 12-year-old babysitter, Fleiss realized she was on the wrong end of the business. By the time she turned 13, she had a fleet of 20 babysitters to hire out: &amp;quot;I ran my neighborhood,&amp;quot; as she puts it. In junior high, Fleiss started paying A students to copy their exams. When she worked for a flower store at 15, Fleiss was sent to sell 40 roses for $5 each at a Julio Iglesias concert and dutifully returned the $200 to the flower shop. The following day she went to the flower market in downtown L.A. and was back at the next concert with 200 roses that she sold for $10 a stem, pocketing the profits. &amp;quot;I just pick up a hustle really easily,&amp;quot; she tells me. As a 19-year-old waitress, she met a local 60-year-old billionaire named Bernie Cornfeld, &amp;quot;who looked like Santa Claus.&amp;quot; Fleiss worked for him briefly and then became his lover, traveling with him to Europe and living with him for several months on Grand Bahama Island in a penthouse once owned by Howard Hughes. But she grew restless in the Bahamas and decided to return to Los Angeles and get rich on her own. Unfortunately, it was at this point in her life that she met and started dating Ivan Nagy, a convicted bookie nearly 30 years her senior. &amp;quot;I think that Heidi wanted to try her wings pretty early, and I think that she met some people who sort of took all her potential and gave it a sharp turn,&amp;quot; Fleiss&amp;#039;s mother, Elissa, a schoolteacher, says in a 1995 BBC documentary about her daughter. Nagy introduced Fleiss to the reigning queen of sex-for-sale in Hollywood, Madam Alex Adams. &amp;quot;She knew nothing,&amp;quot; Adams says in the film, which was shot during Fleiss&amp;#039;s trial. &amp;quot;She was like a little parrot who repeated what she was supposed to say.&amp;quot; With Nagy&amp;#039;s encouragement, Fleiss joined Madam Alex&amp;#039;s staff, turning tricks for a year and a half and learning the business. But she noticed that Adams&amp;#039; &amp;quot;girls&amp;quot; weren&amp;#039;t particularly beautiful. And that Alex was a relentless gossip, who spent much of her time lying on her bed in a muumuu, spilling her secrets to tabloid journalists on the phone. Fleiss saw an opportunity. Between the contacts Fleiss had made through Adams and the wildly wealthy people she&amp;#039;d met in her time with Cornfeld, she put together a competing prostitution ring. Fleiss was determined to bring a previously unheard-of level of discretion and cachet to L.A. prostitution, and for a while, she did. Her clients were &amp;quot;the richest in the world,&amp;quot; she says, driving her bright blue Toyota Land Cruiser through the desert, showing me the world in which she now finds herself. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s about convenience: You work real hard all day, then you have to entertain someone else? Take them out on the town? Maybe you don&amp;#039;t feel like it.&amp;quot; It was easier to call Heidi Fleiss. Clients knew that there would never be a hassle or a disappointment. Her legendary parties were attended by Mick Jagger and Jack Nicholson. Charlie Sheen, one of the few of Fleiss&amp;#039;s clients whose identity was revealed during her trial (not by Fleiss herself), said at the time that when you pay for a hooker, you&amp;#039;re not paying for sex; you&amp;#039;re paying for her to leave when you&amp;#039;re finished. Fleiss has seen a lot of the ugliness that can follow sexual relationships, particularly from men. After she was busted by the L.A.P.D. in 1993, it came out in court transcripts that Nagy was one of the people who&amp;#039;d informed on her. He&amp;#039;d become jealous of her success and was attempting to start his own business; he was arrested six weeks after Fleiss for drug dealing and pandering. Nagy went on to testify against Fleiss in her federal trial; he sold nude photographs of her to Penthouse and made a movie about a serial killer who skins prostitutes alive, featuring a character named Heidi. &amp;quot;In one second, the same person who tells you that they love you will turn around and make your life a living hell,&amp;quot; Fleiss writes in Pandering. It makes a certain sense that Fleiss now reserves her affections for the feathered and flying. &amp;quot;If you live out here, you&amp;#039;ve got to hate people. You&amp;#039;ve got to be pretty antisocial,&amp;quot; she admits. &amp;quot;How you gonna come out here with only 86 people?&amp;quot; She is referring to the population of Crystal, where we&amp;#039;ve driven to look at her land, the future site of the stud farm. There&amp;#039;s dust as far as the eye can see, interrupted only by a little green shack next to a giant mound of earth on the edge of a gash in the land. &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s Fred,&amp;quot; Fleiss says. &amp;quot;He&amp;#039;s digging to China.&amp;quot; We get out of the Land Cruiser, and Fred meets us at the edge of the massive canyon he&amp;#039;s dug on his property. Ultimately, he plans to construct a 15,000-square-foot subterranean house made of shipping containers. I ask him why he wants to live in a basement. &amp;quot;For my own special and specific purposes,&amp;quot; says Fred, an Anglo guy scorched deep brown, wearing mirrored sunglasses and carefully trimmed facial hair. &amp;quot;You look good,&amp;quot; he says to Fleiss. &amp;quot;Yeah, you too. It&amp;#039;s coming along here,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;Yeah, it is,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;I wanted to buy that lot there,&amp;quot; he says, motioning toward the dust in the distance, &amp;quot;but I guess it&amp;#039;s gone?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s mine, man!&amp;quot; says Fleiss. &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s all me.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Really?&amp;quot; says Fred, rubbing his shaved head with his hand. &amp;quot;I thought there was a lot between us.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;No,&amp;quot; Fleiss says. &amp;quot;We&amp;#039;re neighbors.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;He&amp;#039;s a cute guy,&amp;quot; she says, when we&amp;#039;re back in the Land Cruiser. &amp;quot;He&amp;#039;s entertaining. See, I kind of did do something shady to him. I thought my property went all the way back and butted up against his. But there was one lot between us right there. He said he was buying it, but I saw the `For Sale&amp;#039; sign still up there, so I went and called the broker and said, `I&amp;#039;m an all-cash buyer.&amp;#039; So I really bought it out from under him. But he&amp;#039;s got plenty of room, and I need the space for my parrots.&amp;quot; In addition to the brothel and the turbines, Fleiss plans to build an estate for herself and, of course, a large parrot facility on her land. &amp;quot;Pahrump will always be Pahrump, but Crystal is going to be nice,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;All you need are four or five fancy houses and it&amp;#039;ll flush everyone out, and it&amp;#039;ll be a nice area. They&amp;#039;re all kind of weird here, but these people will go. Like this guy here, someone needs to kill him,&amp;quot; she says, pulling up in front of some dilapidated trailers with a fleet of rusted-out cars parked in back. &amp;quot;I go, `Dad, retire here...there&amp;#039;s brothels, there&amp;#039;s gambling, everything. You&amp;#039;ll love it!,&amp;#039; He says, `It sounds good; maybe I will.&amp;#039;&amp;quot; Fleiss is close to her father, Paul, 74, and talks about him frequently. Her parents separated when Heidi was a teenager. When she was running her business in Beverly Hills, she would often give her father large sums of cash to keep in his bank account for her, and she bought her house on Tower Grove in his name. Later he was indicted for tax evasion and served three years probation. &amp;quot;I was just saying to my dad that these parrots are born to a really fucked-up world,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;He goes, `Heidi, no, no; the world is a beautiful garden. It&amp;#039;s just, people are destroying it.&amp;#039;&amp;quot; Fleiss is looking into green building options\u2014&amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t want anything polluting,&amp;quot; she says\u2014and intends to construct &amp;quot;a huge auditorium, but it&amp;#039;ll be like a jungle where my birds can really fly! Where they can really do what they&amp;#039;re supposed to do.&amp;quot;  In fact, her flock already enjoys a far better life than they did before Fleiss adopted them from someone she refers to as &amp;quot;the dead lady,&amp;quot; a retired madam who used to live next door to her in a trailer. &amp;quot;There were over 300 birds in there! She ran the exotic-birds department for the Tropicana Hotel, which is a huge job. She called me once at 3:30 in the morning and said, `Come over here and help me feed this baby!&amp;#039; Some baby parrot. And I ran over there in my pajamas\u2014I knew there was something else wrong\u2014and she was like, `Get me my oxygen! Get me this, get me that.&amp;#039; I called my dad; he was like, `I don&amp;#039;t know, honey, you better call the paramedics.&amp;#039; They ended up getting a helicopter. And they were taking her away in the wind with her IV and blood and everything, and she goes, `Heidi, you take care of my birds.&amp;#039; And she dies the next day.&amp;quot; As hard-assed as Fleiss is in her assessments of the world and her fellow humans, she has a funny sense of duty. At the Dirty Laundry opening, person after person testified about Fleiss&amp;#039;s generosity. &amp;quot;She&amp;#039;s just a super-duper person,&amp;quot; said her neighbor Bill Jackson, an enormous man who recently underwent gastric bypass surgery and claims he was assistant director of the CIA for 34 years. (The press office at the agency would neither confirm nor deny.) &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t even want to say how many rents she&amp;#039;s paying in this town. I&amp;#039;ve got two big, huge dogs that I&amp;#039;ve taken for a ride every morning that I&amp;#039;ve ever been here. Well, my van broke down; I just didn&amp;#039;t know what to do. I woke up one morning, she had a van sitting there in my driveway. She bought it at a police auction in L.A., drove it back herself, parked it in my driveway. Said, `This is for the dogs.&amp;#039;&amp;quot; Someone had brought a cake to the laundromat with frosting in the shape of soap suds. A woman in glasses with a stiff, vertical hairdo was fanning it with a newspaper to shoo flies away. &amp;quot;I followed her whole trial!&amp;quot; she said. &amp;quot;She was just a businesswoman. Only thing I feel bad about is her getting beat up by that Tom Sizemore. I don&amp;#039;t think she deserved that.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;She&amp;#039;ll succeed now,&amp;quot; a woman in a pink sweat suit said of Heidi&amp;#039;s stud farm. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m looking forward to it! All my friends want to go and try it out. What&amp;#039;s good for the geese is good for the ganders.&amp;quot; Dirty Laundry is decorated with tiles that look like the fronts of slot machines. Fleiss had put out a long submarine sandwich, and the smell of onions was in the air. A woman burst in through the front door with tears in her eyes and shouted, &amp;quot;You go, Heidi! Praise Jesus! I&amp;#039;m so proud of you!&amp;quot; Fleiss hugged her but looked a little embarrassed. &amp;quot;I relate to the lifestyle she had before,&amp;quot; the woman told me. &amp;quot;Now, I&amp;#039;m just a citizen. I&amp;#039;m clean, I&amp;#039;m sober, I&amp;#039;m married, I work at Wal-Mart. I&amp;#039;m proud to say I know her. I look into her eyes and we relate.&amp;quot; Outside of Pahrump, Fleiss takes financial care of other people, too. She still sends money to her former prison roommate. &amp;quot;I got out in 2000, so I&amp;#039;ve been sending her money for seven years,&amp;quot; Fleiss says. &amp;quot;She was...whatever. Girlfriend? Yeah, maybe. But sex, I tried like two times, and I&amp;#039;m just not gay. She gets out in about eight or nine months and I told her I would get her a house. But nowhere near me.&amp;quot; Fleiss describes prison as &amp;quot;lesbian hell.&amp;quot; But this was not her only relationship with a female inmate. Fleiss was also involved with a young woman who was incarcerated for drug dealing, a former airplane mechanic who looked &amp;quot;like a cute little surfer boy. I didn&amp;#039;t touch her, but I&amp;#039;d be, like...&amp;quot; Fleiss shrugs and points at her crotch. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s a funny story: I told her, `Don&amp;#039;t you ever fucking think about contacting me in the real world. I&amp;#039;m not a lesbian....&amp;#039; Then about two years ago, I got an e-mail from her, or she called me and said, `Google my name.&amp;#039; So I Googled her name, and she has this huge company. Huge! She won, like, woman of the year awards. So I called her and I go, `Not bad.&amp;#039; She goes, `Well, I did all that because you called me a loser.&amp;#039; I go, `Damn, I should&amp;#039;ve called you more names\u2014you probably would&amp;#039;ve found the cure for cancer by now.&amp;#039;&amp;quot; Fleiss is waiting to file for her brothel license until the federal investigation of Joe Richards has blown over; everyone is extra meticulous right now because of it, and, problematically, one of the rules in the Nye County brothel ordinance states: &amp;quot;No person shall be employed by the licensee...who has ever been convicted of...a felony involving moral turpitude.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;But I qualify,&amp;quot; Fleiss says. &amp;quot;I mean, big deal, so I&amp;#039;m a convicted felon. Being in the sex industry, you can&amp;#039;t be so squeaky-clean. You&amp;#039;ve got to be hustling.&amp;quot; Fleiss told me that the main factor she&amp;#039;s counting on to create the ambiance for her stud farm is that &amp;quot;nighttime is really enchanting here,&amp;quot; and there&amp;#039;s no other word for it. Driving beneath the inky sky toward her house, all I can see is moon and road, stretching on and on without end through the desert. Her door is open when I arrive, and I find her half asleep in bed, with her laptop open and two of her birds under the covers. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s like a whole &amp;#039;nother world out here, it really is,&amp;quot; she says, yawning. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m so far removed from my social life and old surroundings. Who was it, Oscar Wilde, I think, who said people can adjust to anything. I was perfectly adjusted in the penitentiary, and I was perfectly adjusted to living in a ch\u00E2teau in France.&amp;quot; She shows me some e-mails she has received from men interested in working at the stud farm. There are a few photos from greased, beefy guys, and then one from a man who looks like he should be pushing a stroller and walking the dog. &amp;quot;You know it took a lot of nerve for him to write this and send his photo,&amp;quot; she says, smiling. &amp;quot;Some of them are really cute, and then the ultimate nerdiest guys on earth apply. I&amp;#039;m not kidding\u2014the nerdiest fucking things I&amp;#039;ve ever seen in my entire life! Come here, Pauline, you stay with me,&amp;quot; she says to a parrot who is getting a little aggressive. &amp;quot;Don&amp;#039;t make everything hard, baby. What am I gonna do with you? Where you wanna sleep at the stud farm? You gonna sleep in my bed? If someone had told me I&amp;#039;d have these birds and they&amp;#039;d be like my babies, I&amp;#039;d have said they were out of their minds. I changed a lot of my stuff for them. A lot of goofy things I used to do I don&amp;#039;t do anymore, my substance abuse and all my stuff like that.&amp;quot; (Fleiss attended a mandatory program for substance abuse at Impact House in Pasadena before she was incarcerated.) &amp;quot;Paulina!&amp;quot; she shouts. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m not so bad &amp;#039;cause of you! If I did open the stud farm...&amp;quot; It&amp;#039;s the first time I&amp;#039;ve heard her use the word if, but not the first time I&amp;#039;ve wondered if she&amp;#039;ll really get around to it. &amp;quot;If I did, I would definitely incorporate them into the whole thing.&amp;quot; I wonder why Fleiss doesn&amp;#039;t just do something with birds for a living, what it is she finds so compelling about the sex industry. She gives a little snort. &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t like anything about the sex business,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s just something I know.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.elle.com/life-love/sex-relationships/advice/a9146/the-once-future-madam-19105/>