How a Hedge Fund VP Became the Manhattan Madam
Why I Became a Madam
Dearest Reader,
It’s confessional time, and I have more than a few things to get off my chest.
You see, the question I’m asked most often is, “Why did you become a madam?” It’s a question that has lingered for years, trailing behind me, waiting for me to figure out the real reason why. After all this time, I’ve done the inner work, peeling back the layers to understand the choices I made.
Here’s the first confession: it wasn’t just about the money or the lifestyle—something deeper: control. At the time I made the decision to open an escort agency, I had a job that people would kill for. I was 27, Vice President of a $5 billion Hedge Fund, living in a high-rise apartment in New York, with a corner office on Wall Street, and 40 people reporting to me. I was earning a mid-six-figure salary with great bonuses. It was everything on paper, but behind the scenes, I was suffocating.
I couldn’t understand it. I had achieved everything I thought I was supposed to. Coming from a poor, under-educated background, wasn’t this the life I had fought so hard for? Yet, no matter how much I reminded myself to be grateful, the truth gnawed at me. I resented the finance world, the “finance bros” who had belittled and mistreated me for over a decade, and most of all, the lack of freedom I felt over my own life. I was constantly under someone’s thumb, playing by their rules.
And here’s where things take a turn—because that world of finance didn’t just push me toward control. It also introduced me to something much darker, something that would eventually make me a criminal.
But more on that soon, dear reader. There’s plenty to confess.
A Confession: Finance Introduced Me to the Sex Industry
So, let me confess something else. The truth about the finance world is that it was there that I was first introduced to the sex industry. And honestly? I doubt I would have ever become a madam if I hadn't been exposed to this world through my early finance positions.
At the time, finance was a male-dominated industry. There were few women, and those who were there often found themselves pushed into back-office roles—far from the power and prestige of trading positions. No matter how hard I worked, I would never truly be “good enough” to break through that glass ceiling. So, there I was, a teenager in the Bay Area of California, looking for work. The choices were either dot-com startups or finance. I chose finance. I still vividly remember my first boss asking me during the interview, “Are you someone who plays it safe, or do you take risks and make things work?” Naturally, I replied that I was a risk-taker, and just like that, I was hired as a trading assistant.
My introduction to the cutthroat reality of the finance world came quickly. During my first week, my female boss—a tough New Yorker—told me I needed to stop wearing skirts, get a minimizer bra, stick to French manicures, and pull my hair back into a bun. Conformity was key in that male-dominated world. The next day, the portfolio manager who hired me asked if I liked Banana Republic. I had no idea what that was; growing up in a small town, we didn’t have one nearby. A few days later, I found a Banana Republic catalog on my desk with a $1,500 gift certificate and pages earmarked for clothes I was “expected” to buy.
Then came the real shock. Early in my tenure at the firm, one of the companies we heavily invested in was bought out, and the stock price doubled overnight. To celebrate, my boss announced we were flying to Caesar’s Palace on a private jet for two nights of partying. At 19, I couldn’t drink or gamble, but my boss insisted I join. So, I packed my bags and hopped on the jet.
That first night, one of the traders asked me to “book girls” for their late-night party. I was completely clueless. He handed me the number of his VIP Concierge, and soon, I was coordinating escorts for the group. It felt surreal, but at the time, it seemed incredibly normal. The men acted like it was normal and that this was a part of the celebration. The bill went on the company’s expense account—like any other business transaction.
This wasn’t an isolated experience. At another firm, the owners spent half the year preparing for Burning Man and the other half using escort services and doing cocaine in San Francisco. It was like working for The Wolf of Wall Street but in California. Starting so young in these environments, these influential men became like family and had a great deal of influence over me. They introduced me to various experiences—Thai food, sushi, travel, and they even paid for my college, got me company cars, etc. But they also introduced me to a high-octane, toxic world of indulgence, entitlement, and crime.
A Deeper Confession: Crime Was Part of the Job
And that brings us to another confession. As I moved up in the finance world, I started to see an even darker side—crime wasn’t just tolerated, it was expected. Many portfolio managers would try to get me to embellish their numbers to make their returns look better to investors. Fake reports, inflated valuations—it was all part of the game. And I was supposed to play along.
I didn’t. I fought back, refusing to sign off on numbers I couldn’t verify. It was my signature on those SEC reports, after all. Eventually, I was fired from my last finance job for refusing to use the valuation provided by a high-profile portfolio manager.
The truth is, finance was where I first learned that there are two sets of rules in this world—one for the regular folks and one for the elite. I watched as numbers were manipulated and laws bent to serve the firm’s bottom line. I saw firms hide payments to escorts and drug dealers in expense reports, just to keep the traders who made them millions happy.
It was a world of power, corruption, and secrecy, and in many ways, it laid the groundwork for my later decision to become a madam.
Family Patterns: Repeating the Cycle
Of course, it wasn’t just the world of finance that influenced my choices. I grew up in a household governed by rigid rules, where religion was wielded as a tool for control. My stepfather, in particular, was abusive—both verbally and emotionally. He made sure I never forgot that I wasn’t good enough, constantly reminding me that I didn’t belong, that I was the black sheep of the family. His words were sharp, his disapproval relentless, and I spent my childhood trying, and failing, to gain approval that would never come.
As I grew older, I unconsciously gravitated toward that same toxicity. The environments I found myself in—whether in finance or in relationships—felt familiar. I consistently ended up in positions where I was told, directly or indirectly, that I would never be good enough. At the time, I wasn’t aware of how much my past influenced me, but now, looking back, I see how deeply ingrained it was. It was a cycle I didn’t even know I was repeating—a need to exist in spaces where I was constantly reminded of my inadequacies, because that felt normal.
Becoming a madam, though, was a break in that pattern. I wasn’t confined by anyone’s expectations or shaped into a version of myself to please someone else. It was not just an act of rebellion against societal norms—it was an act of rebellion against my own trauma. It was the first real decision I made for myself.
A Final Confession: Power and Freedom Come at a Cost
So, here’s the final confession, dear reader: the reason I became a madam wasn’t just about the money, or escaping finance, or even the pressure I felt to support my mother during her health crisis. It was about reclaiming something I’d never fully had—control.
For the first time in my life, I was the one making the decisions. I wasn’t being told how to act, what to wear, or how to fit into someone else’s narrative. I had lived so long being shaped by others—by family, by bosses, by the system—that I didn’t know what it felt like to truly be free.
But freedom, I learned, comes at a cost. The power I had as a madam, the control I craved—it was intoxicating. It gave me a high that nothing else could. But with that power came its own chains, its own form of confinement. I may have broken free from one cage, only to build another.
And that’s a truth I’ll carry with me, long after the headlines have faded.
About Kristin Davis
Kristin Davis, known as the "Manhattan Madam," has navigated an extraordinary career from a hedge fund VP to running a high-end escort service that served clients like Governor Eliot Spitzer. After serving time in prison, Kristin shifted into politics, working as a media strategist for over 15 years with notable figures like Roger Stone, Rudy Giuliani, and RFK Jr. Now, as the founder of Think Right PR, she brings her unique blend of experiences in finance, crime, and politics to high-stakes public relations, offering sharp insights into power and scandal.
Join Me Next Week
Now that you know why I became a madam, it's time to dive into how I actually did it. From placing that first ad to managing one of New York's most infamous escort agencies, this is the story of the bold (and sometimes reckless) steps I took to go from hedge fund VP to Manhattan Madam. Stay tuned for more confessions—this one gets real.