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"Kind of personal?"

"Yes!"

"Well, so is what you're asking me to do -- right? Sneak into the gym computer and screw around with your records?"

"But what does Matt being in love with me have to do with any of this?"

Randy looked utterly bemused. "Nothing, I guess."

"He says he does," I suddenly blurted out, "and I've met his family."

"How can you be engaged to a guy if you can't tell him that you're being hassled by a stalker?"

"Who says we're engaged?"

"Just checking," said Randy. "Whenever I've seen him -- picking you up at the gym -- you looked like ..."

"An engaged couple?"

"Most definitely."

I stopped myself from bluntly saying, "Well, we're not" because I love the idea of Randy thinking that Matt wants to marry me.

"Well," I said, "I wouldn't define my relationship with Matt quite that way."

I allowed myself to look straight into Randy's eyes and thought, Christ, I have never wanted a guy to fuck me as badly as I do right this minute. My panties were pressing tightly against my pussy and my hands felt weak. I shifted in my chair, which made my panties press even harder, and wondered if he could tell.

"What are you thinking?" Randy asked in a quiet voice. It sounded more like an order than a question. "Tell me," he said, almost flippantly.

Nancy Chan: Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl appears in Health & Body every Monday and Thursday. + About Nancy Chan: Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl -- with links to all episodes to date. + Read the Diary from the start.

My lips parted and he stared at my mouth as if he owned it ... he was looking at me that way for the first time, discovering something about me. I blinked and stopped myself from telling him what I really wanted, but I couldn't resist giving him a helpless, putty-in-your-hands glance. And the way he acknowledged it -- with a long, interested stare -- made me forget who I was.

"We both have to get back to our jobs," I said abruptly. "I've been avoiding getting to work all day." At least -- after all these white lies, there was a lot of truth to that.

"What exactly do you do, anyway?"

"It's not very interesting, but it does require concentration -- I'm a proof-reader ... but you make it very hard to concentrate."

I didn't let him walk me home -- and this time, he didn't force the issue.

Thursday, August 19

Jasmine and I met at Pinky's on York Avenue for pedicures, then walked over to her apartment in our open-toed sandals, gossiping while our toenails dried. "The Anabel scandal was on TV today," Jasmine told me. "Those L.A. hookers -- no matter how much trouble they're in, they love the publicity! And three of Anabel's girls were on Larry King last night -- never in my life have I seen such mindless bimbos. They were so tacky, they made April look like Grace Kelly!"

"God, this is making me so paranoid -- I can't answer my business phone. And I haven't been calling my customers back. I'm terrified some client will ask me about April."

"Agoraphobia," Jasmine mused.

"No, that's when you can't go out. I don't mind going out. I'm just afraid to work. I feel paralyzed."

"Agora phobia," she enunciated. "Fear of the marketplace. But, knowing you -- when the rent is due, your fear will evaporate. If anyone asks you about April, just stonewall. The only john you want to discuss this with is Milt -- he has a right to ask. But nobody else."

Then I broke down and told her about the troubling events at the gym and my unconsummated obsession with Randy.

"I can't stop thinking about him," I confessed. "We had coffee the other day and I had to make myself come as soon as I got back to my apartment."

"Wow, that's pretty bad!" Jasmine sympathized. "Maybe Randy's the real reason for your aversion to working ... Maybe a fling with him will calm your nerves. Like a vaccine -- sometimes a small amount of the virus cures the disease."

"No!" I exclaimed. "Randy might let Matt find out. You can't trust young guys -- or their egos. They're out of control. I don't want to lose Matt over some teenager I met at the gym."

"Well," said Jasmine, "who do you think about when you're coming? Besides yourself, that is."

We were standing at a crosswalk, and I looked around to make sure nobody was listening.

"Both," I admitted. "And sometimes just Randy. But it's never just Matt anymore." Increasingly, since the conversation with Randy, I think of Matt as husband material. I guess I care too much -- I've made an investment and I want to see what the future brings. Let's face it, he's a catch.

"I think you should give Randy an excuse to erase those records at the health club -- if he knows how. Just don't get too involved -- keeping up with two boyfriends could ruin your business."
salon.com | Sept. 23, 1999

Episode 23 Girl trouble

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