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Finally dozed off at 4 a.m. Awakened by a bizarre phone call from Allison. "I want you to lose my number!" she wailed into the phone. "You had no right to sic that exploitative cunt onto me and my friends!" Allison -- who never uses the C-word, except during sex -- hung up before I could say a word. I was too perplexed to go back to sleep.

As I inhaled the reassuring aroma of freshly brewed French-roast Sumatran, the phone made my heart leap. No logical reason for Randy to be calling before our date -- but I wanted to hear from him.

"You won't believe where I was last night!" Jasmine said.

"Prostitutes Anonymous," I smugly replied. "Sounds like you were a real hit."

"Please. I wouldn't go there if my life depended on it. Sexaholics is where the men are -- if you want to call them that. But what a sorry selection. Those guys don't deserve to have sex with anyone but themselves!"

"What were you doing there?" The truth was slowly dawning as the caffeine entered my blood stream.

"But that stupid bitch took me to a church basement on 14th Street! I asked her why we weren't mingling with the Park Avenue sex addicts."

"Wait -- you were there looking for clients? No wonder she's so upset with you," I said. "I wish you two would learn how to express your feelings without calling each other names."

"Upset with me? Why is she being so huffy? What a waste of my time!" Jasmine exclaimed. "There wasn't a single guy at that meeting with one iota of client potential! " She paused. "What do you mean? She's calling me names?"

"Never mind," my better self interjected. "It's not worth repeating."

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.

Jasmine continued: "Listen, she's lucky to have me in her life. I see things clearly. Half the guys who are claiming to be sexaholics are just sleazy AA members looking for free sex and the other half are compulsive gamblers and coke addicts. Not one of them has a real job. Sexaholics is just a pickup scene for guys who can't get laid at the other 12-step meetings. They figure a sex addict is the only woman who'll have them. I'm going to the Upper East Side meeting on Monday but I'm not that optimistic."

"I don't know if you should be meddling --"

"Do you know what these 12-step junkies do? They pick each other up at meetings -- and the hottest-looking girls are competing for the most fucked-up guys! Charles Darwin would be turning in his grave!"

"I don't know what you told her but she thought you were genuine -- you've misled her." Feeling sort of virtuous, I thought: Maybe this will teach Allie to appreciate the lack of interest I take in her recovery cult.

"Hey," Jasmine protested. "I am genuine! She misled herself. And who the hell are you? An enemy of the open society! I'll go to any meeting I want -- this isn't the goddamn Soviet Union, you know. It's still a free country."

"The Soviet Union? Wake up!" I snapped. "The 1980s are over, for God's sake. It's just that some people have feelings that they take very seriously --"

"She should thank me! At least I understand the fundamental laws of nature. The sexual marketplace belongs to us girls, and when we aren't running it properly, we're abandoning our responsibility to the human race. These meetings she goes to -- it's all part of a conspiracy to distort the natural market."

"So why are you trolling for new business at these events? It's no safer than running an ad in the Village Voice!" I never thought Jasmine, of all people, would look outside our private circle for new business. It was she who criticized Eileen for being "too eager" -- and greedy.

"There's an art to augmenting your existing client base," she began. Against my will, my ears pricked up. "Girls like us can afford to be patient. So, you don't say anything incriminating, you get to know the guy, find out where he works ... You don't pounce until you feel sure. It's OK to do some extra hustling, if you're not desperate for business. I'm sure there's a better class of Sexaholics at the Temple ______ meeting. It's right off Fifth Avenue. You should come with me."

Just to get her off the phone, I half-agreed.

Now which bra to wear for my museum date with Randy? A black lace push-up -- always appropriate when turning a trick -- looks too calculating with a new boyfriend. Like I was planning to bring him to bed. A sleek black underwire -- that's more ambiguous. If I'm not getting paid, I expect to be seduced. And I want to be properly dressed -- or undressed -- for the occasion.
salon.com | Sept. 30, 1999

Episode 25 Swollen with bliss

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