It's like the Exxon Valdez: conflicting theories abound as to how the spillage occurred. Now that the parties have settled out of court, the mystery will forever remain.
Was Nafissatou Diallo, the hotel maid, part of a conspiracy, as investigative reporter Edward Jay Epstein suggests in his sensational article published in The New York Review of Books and titled "What Really Happened to Strauss-Kahn"?
Did the French right wing party warp a plot to eliminate DSK, the then presidential candidate hopeful? Did the Russians get involved? Al Qaida? The Mossad? James Bond?
Now that both parties have settled, for $6 million according to French newspaper Le Monde, the light of truth will never have a chance to shine on DSK's crotch, nor on Diallo's blouse.
So here's my theory. No facts, no evidence, no interview, no proof of anything to base my story on. But give it a read. You might think that it makes more sense than any of the other theories you've read so far.
The night before, he was in Washington DC enjoying the company of French ladies brought over the pond to him by his like minded friends from Lille. Once in New York, he hooks up with his blond lady friend who joins him in his room and leaves the hotel alone at 2am.
After a good night sleep, DSK feels great. Well rested, relaxed, calm. Whether he orders a bowl of Special K, or a coffee and croissant remains unknown. His flight to Paris is at 4pm. The day after, he will be in Berlin to discuss the Greek crisis with Angela Merkel. He has plenty of time. He feels the longing again for more action, and he thinks, "Mais, oui! Why not! One for the road" "Un dernier pour la route" as we say in French.
DSK is a well traveled man. He's been patronizing five stars hotels for the better part of his life. He knows that if you need a toothbrush, a magazine, a bottle of mineral water or a girl, you just call room service. These hotels are always well stocked.
"Hello, this is room 2806. Can you send me a nice lady to spend 10 minutes in my lovely company"
"Mais bien sûr, Monsieur DSK. We will send someone shortly. Would you prefer sparkling or still?"
He comes out of the shower, dressed in nothing more than his virile pride.
"Hello, I did not expect you here so soon, but please be welcome", he says with Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau's accent.
"Very glad to see that you are ready for me" she replies.
They sit on the bed. He is naked, she is dressed.
DSK spots that she is from Western Africa and offers to continue the conversation in Français, an idiom he has better command of than English. Contrary to Diallo's account, the encounter probably occurred entirely in French.
"Que tu as de beaux cheveux" "You have very nice hair", DSK whispers, before adding « Suce-moi » which I cannot translate because it's X-rated !
She obliges and performs what is known in French as Une Pipe. I'm sure you can figure out the analogy.
This is most probably around that time that DSK's semen was transferred from the comfort of its owner's holding cell to Diallo's blouse, establishing that a blouse there was, and it was buttoned up, which leads to suggest that DSK is not a boob guy.
DSK says "Merci madame" to which she replies "Where is the money?"
Grave mistake. Everyone who's turning tricks and their pimp will tell you: "Always get the money first".
He hands her $50. The current rate for such commodity, or so he was told. "Mais ça va pas, Non!" she objects, which could be loosely translated by « who do you think I am? »
"That has been established" DSK thinks. "Now we are negotiating the price."
Why did DSK decide to cheat Diallo out of her wages? Maybe there was a little bit of a colonial afterthought, maybe a bit of a banker-in-chief instinct. Or maybe the genuine thought that that's what it's worth.
But Diallo gets really really upset. "50 bucks?! You're out of your mind grandpa! The current rate is $500. Spit it out."
DSK is unmoved; he does not even make a counter offer.
She spots DSK's Rolex on the bedside table. She grabs it and says "This will do".
"T'es folle, salope" DSK screams "rends-moi ma montre, @*#" "Crazy B@*#! Give me my watch". He tries to snatch the watch out of her hand. She jumps out of the room and runs into the suite's corridor. He follows her, locks the room door shut to prevent her from escaping with the watch. They fight. He pushes her against the dresser; they wrestle, she resists. Finally DSK manages to recover his prized possession.
Diallo leaves the room, visibly shaken and really not stirred. Still full of rage, she wonders how she can get back at this odious man who doesn't know that in today's day and age, the "Droit de cuissage" (literally "Right of the thigh") is as antiquated as economic prosperity.
Diallo tells the hotel security that room 2806 client just raped her.
And as they say, the rest is history.
In essence, she loaned DSK $450, and he repaid her $6 million, or slightly above usury rate. She should think about a career in banking.