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that he might be exposing himself, called Carter and said he was having second thoughts about being a public figure. “Then you should have lived in a two bedroom apartment in Queens,” responded Carter. And then the real troubles began. Epstein, in man-who- can-have-everything fashion, has, for many years, ordered up a daily massage following his workout sessions. “Often these were massage massages,” says Epstein matter of factly, “but sometimes these were happy ending massages, especially in Palm Beach, where there are many massage parlors—‘Jack Shacks,’ they’re called—that do outcalls. There was no sex. An often there was no happy ending. Often I would be on the phone for the entire massage. There were however a lot of massages and a lot of girls, with one girl recommending others.” He says all this in a straightforward manner that seems utterly tone-deaf to its effect, as if he suffers from a sort of cultural autism. After Epstein’s round of publicity and widely touted association with Clinton, the stepmother of one of the massage parlor girls who went to Epstein’s house called the police. The police interviewed the girl—who was TK at the time, but whose website identified her as 18—and the girl supplied the names of other girls, some of whom were also younger than 18. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_022918