Nyc Escourt
🔞 ALL INFORMATION CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻
Nyc Escourt
Intelligencer
Politics
Technology
Business
Ideas
The Cut
Style
Self
Culture
Power
Vulture
TV
Movies
Comedy
Music
Books
Art
Theater
What to Stream
Curbed
Cityscape
Design Hunting
The Real Estate
Corner Shop
The Strategist
Gift Guides
Sales
Beauty
Home
Kitchen + Dining
Fashion
Travel
Tech + Electronics
Fitness
Kids & Babies
Grub Street
Restaurants & Bars
The Thousand Best
The Magazine
Current Issue
Crossword
Subscribe
Gift Subscriptions
Buy Back Issues
More
About
Newsletters
Podcasts
Videos
Best of New York
Best Doctors
Top Rated Lawyers
Like Us
Follow Us
Follow Us
Search
Search
Close
Intelligencer
Politics
Technology
Business
Ideas
The Cut
Style
Self
Culture
Power
Vulture
TV
Movies
Comedy
Music
Books
Art
Theater
What to Stream
Curbed
Cityscape
Design Hunting
The Real Estate
Corner Shop
The Strategist
Gift Guides
Sales
Beauty
Home
Kitchen + Dining
Fashion
Travel
Tech + Electronics
Fitness
Kids & Babies
Grub Street
Restaurants & Bars
The Thousand Best
The Magazine
Current Issue
Crossword
Subscribe
Gift Subscriptions
Buy Back Issues
More
About
Newsletters
Podcasts
Videos
Best of New York
Best Doctors
Top Rated Lawyers
Like Us
Follow Us
Follow Us
Search
Search
Close
Photo: Dana Frank/Alexis Entertainment
Jason Itzler at Rikers Island. Photo: Alex Majoli/Magnum Photos
Scenes from Inside New York Confidential . Left to right: Girls between dates; Jason and Natalia after a $33,000 day; Jason and a NY Confidential worker. Photo: Alexis Entertainment
overnights
Yesterday at 10:21 p.m.
overnights
Yesterday at 10:15 p.m.
suspicious minds
Yesterday at 8:52 p.m.
lawsuits
Yesterday at 8:28 p.m.
action item
Yesterday at 6:45 p.m.
tomb raiding
Yesterday at 6:44 p.m.
power
Yesterday at 6:35 p.m.
get a job!
Yesterday at 6:07 p.m.
some healing needs to be done
Yesterday at 6:00 p.m.
dungeons & dragons & references
Yesterday at 6:00 p.m.
characters welcome
Yesterday at 5:51 p.m.
sports
Yesterday at 5:30 p.m.
it's complicated
Yesterday at 5:25 p.m.
don't dillydally
Yesterday at 5:19 p.m.
now streaming
Yesterday at 5:00 p.m.
verdicts
Yesterday at 5:00 p.m.
best in class
Yesterday at 4:50 p.m.
respect the classics
Yesterday at 4:48 p.m.
snubs
Yesterday at 4:45 p.m.
celebrity
Yesterday at 4:11 p.m.
Like Us
Follow Us
Follow Us
New York is a Vox Media Network .
© 2022 Vox Media, LLC. All rights reserved.
J ason Itzler, the self-anointed world’s greatest escort-agency owner, prepared to get down on his knees. When a man was about to ask for the hand of a woman in holy matrimony, especially the hand of the fabulous Natalia, America’s No. 1 escort, he should get down on his knees.
This was how Jason, who has always considered himself nothing if not “ultraromantic,” saw it. However, as he slid from his grade-school-style red plastic seat in preparation to kneel, the harsh voice of a female Corrections officer broke the mood, ringing throughout the dank visitor’s room.
“Sit back down,” said the large uniformed woman. “You know the rules.”
Such are the obstacles to true love when one is incarcerated at Rikers Island, where Jason Itzler, 38 and still boyishly handsome in his gray Department of Corrections jumpsuit, has resided since the cops shut down his megaposh NY Confidential agency in January.
There was also the matter of the ring. During the glorious summer and fall of 2004, when NY Confidential was grossing an average of $25,000 a night at its 5,000-square-foot loft at 79 Worth Street, spitting distance from the municipal courts and Bloomberg’s priggish City Hall, Jason would have purchased a diamond with enough carats to blow the eye loupe off a 47th Street Hasid.
That was when Itzler filled his days with errands like stopping by Soho Gem on West Broadway to drop $6,500 on little trinkets for Natalia and his other top escorts. This might be followed by a visit to Manolo Blahnik to buy a dozen pairs of $500 footwear. By evening, Itzler could be found at Cipriani, washing down plates of crushed lobster with yet another bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue label and making sure everyone got one of his signature titanium business cards engraved with NY Confidential’s singular motto: ROCKET FUEL FOR WINNERS.
But now Jason was charged with various counts of criminal possession of a controlled substance, money laundering, and promoting prostitution. His arrest was part of a large effort by the NYPD and the D.A.’s office against New York’s burgeoning Internet-based escort agencies. In three months, police had shut down American Beauties, Julie’s, and the far-flung New York Elites, a concern the cops said was flying porn stars all over the country for dates. Reeling, pros were declaring the business “holocausted” as girls took down their Websites and worried johns stayed home.
Many blamed Itzler for the heat. In a business where discretion is supposed to be key, Jason was more than a loose cannon. Loose A-bomb was more like it. He took out giant NY Confidential ads in mainstream magazines (the one you’re holding included). In restaurants, he’d get loud and identify himself, Howard Stern style, as “the King of All Pimps.” Probably most fatally, Itzler was quoted in the Post as bragging that he didn’t worry about the police because “I have cops on my side.” After that, one vice guy said, “it was like he was daring us.”
Only days before, Itzler, attired in a $5,700 full-length fox coat from Jeffrey, bought himself a Mercedes S600. Now the car, along with much of the furniture at Jason’s lair, including the $50,000 sound system on which he blared, 24/7, the music of his Rat Pack idol, Frank Sinatra, had been confiscated by the cops. His assets frozen, unable to make his $250,000 bail, Jason couldn’t even buy a phone card, much less get Natalia a ring.
“Where am I going to get a ring in here?” Jason said to Natalia on the phone the other night. He suggested perhaps Natalia might get the ring herself and then slip it to him when she came to visit.
“That’s good, Jason,” returned Natalia. “I buy the ring, give it to you, you kiss it, give it back to me, and I pretend to be surprised.”
“Something like that,” Jason replied, sheepishly. “You know I love you.”
That much seemed true. As Jason doesn’t mind telling you, he has known many women since he lost his virginity not too long after his bar mitzvah at the Fort Lee Community Jewish Center, doing the deed with the captain of the Tenafly High School cheerleader squad. Since then, Jason, slight and five foot nine, says he’s slept with “over 700 women,” a figure he admits pales before the 20,000 women basketball star Wilt “The Stilt” Chamberlain claimed to have bedded. But, as Jason says, “you could say I am a little pickier than him.”
Of these 700 women, Jason has been engaged to nine, two of whom he married. “It was really only one and a half,” Itzler reports, saying that while living in Miami’s South Beach he married “this hot Greek girl. She was gorgeous. The first thing I did was buy her this great boob job, which immediately transformed her from a tremendous A/B look to an out-of-sight C/D look. But her parents totally freaked out. So I got the marriage annulled.”
This aside, not counting his sainted late mother, Jason says Natalia, 25, about five foot three and perhaps 100 pounds soaking wet, reigns as the love of his life.
Without Natalia, she of the smoldering brown eyes that have excited who knows how many hedge-fund managers, billionaire trust-fund babies, and NFL quarterbacks, Jason would never have been able to build NY Confidential into the sub rosa superhotness it became. It was Natalia who got top dollar, as much as $2,000 an hour, with a two-hour minimum. In the history of Internet escorting, no one ever matched Natalia’s ratings on TheEroticReview.com, the Zagat’s of the escort-for-hire industry. On TER, “hobbyists,” as those with the “hobby” of frequenting escorts are called—men with screen names like Clint Dickwood, Smelly Smegma, and William Jefferson Clinton—can write reviews of the “providers” they see, rating them on a scale of 1 to 10 for both “appearance” and “performance.”
In 2004, Natalia recorded an unprecedented seventeen straight 10/10s. On the TER ratings scale, a 10 was defined as “one in a lifetime.” Natalia was the Perfect 10, the queen of the escort world.
It was Psycho, a large tattooed Dominican (psycho was stenciled on his neck in Gothic lettering) who was referring to Jason by his jailhouse nickname. Itzler nodded. There was no need to gloat. Moments before, Jason scanned the grim visiting room. “Just making sure I’ve got the hottest chick in the room.” Like it was any contest, Natalia sitting there, in her little calfskin jacket and leather miniskirt, thick auburn hair flowing over her narrow shoulders.
Besides, half of Rikers already knew about Jason and NY Confidential. They’d read, or heard about, the articles Itzler had piped to his pulp enablers at “Page Six,” including how he could get “$250,000 an hour for Paris Hilton with a four-hour minimum.”
But you couldn’t believe everything you read in the New York Post , even at Rikers. Natalia’s presence was proof. Proof that Jason, a little Jewish guy who still sported a nasty black eye from being beaten silly in his sleep by some skell inmate, wasn’t full of shit when he told the homeys that he was the biggest pimp in the city, that he got all the best girls. How many other Rikers fools could get the Perfect 10 to visit them, at nine o’clock in the morning, too?
“Psycho … Natalia,” Jason said. “Natalia … Psycho.”
“Hey,” Natalia said with an easy smile. She was, after all, a girl you could take anywhere. One minute she could be the slinkiest cat on the hot tin roof, wrapping her dancer’s body (she was the tap-dance champion of Canada in 1996) around a client’s body in a hotel elevator. Then, when the door slid open, she’d look classic, like a wife even, on the arm of a Wall Street CEO or Asian electronics magnate. She was an actress, had played Shakespeare and Off Broadway both. Ever the ingénue, she’d been Juliet half a dozen times. Playing opposite Jason’s however-out-of-luck Romeo was no sweat, even here, in jail.
Not that Natalia had exactly been looking forward to coming to Rikers this raw late-spring morning. Riding in the bus over the bridge from East Elmhurst, freezing in her lace stocking
Backpage In Manassas
Prostitutas En Riverside Ca
Ts Josi Raquel