Who is Nancy Chan? Ever since Nancy Chan's diary began running in Salon, I've been asked by readers and relatives, by prospective and former boyfriends: "Are you Nancy Chan? How much of Nancy is really you? How much of Tracy Quan's life are you revealing?"

I'm unable to give a completely straight answer because, well, I am like Nancy in some ways. Fact and fiction are often blurred in Nancy's life, and in mine. Like Nancy, I ran away from home during my teens, and I know what it's like to take pride in a job while keeping it a secret.

When the original series ended -- with Matt slyly inserting himself into Nancy's apartment to deliver a surprise marriage proposal -- I received hundreds of e-mails from readers wanting to know how Nancy would handle being a full-fledged fiancée: Could a girl like Nancy really give it all up for a guy when she's at the top of her career as a call girl? How big was that engagement ring, anyway?

My working-girl readers were especially intrigued. Contrary to the latest stereotype (that prostitution is just "sex work"), selling sex is much more than a job. Having sex for money can become a way of relating to men -- and enjoying men -- that competes with your romantic life. Successful hookers are sharp-witted, hardheaded and hardworking but many are also diehard romantics. We want our emotional fantasies to come true, perhaps because we spend so much time fulfilling other people's fantasies.

When you run your own business, you are married to your job. When this job is also a secret from your boyfriend, a proposal of marriage may represent the fulfillment of a fantasy but it brings real-life complications -- as Nancy is about to discover in this episode and in chapters to come.

As to whether I am currently guilty of leading a double life, planning to marry a guy like Matt, secretly in love with a wealthy client, or coming out with a sequel to the current novel, I have decided to follow the advice of Nancy's lawyer, and take the Fifth.

-- Tracy Quan

Monday, 1/31/00

Dear Diary,

Today I had the most embarrassing experience -- with one of my regulars. Howard was flat on his back enjoying our threesome with Allison when I decided to straddle him backward -- something I've done hundreds of times. So I carefully lowered my body, confident that my acrobatics looked like zero effort.

Howard stood firm inside of me, but I threw in a just-in-case moan for good measure. With my shoulder blades resting against his chest, all he could see was the back of my neck. Lying still in that position is more work than bouncing up and down, but it's usually the perfect strategy when you're doing a session with another girl. Howard can't check to see whether her tongue is really where it's supposed to be. And besides, it's his favorite position.

I felt serene. Supple. At the top of my game. Allie slithered down to the edge of my bed, placing her head somewhere between my legs -- and his. I felt her long blond hair tickling my thighs. My cue to start moaning louder: "She's soooo good at that ... she's licking my clit! Tell her not to stop! Oh, please don't stop ..."

Unfortunately, when I thought Allison was pretending to do me, she was really doing Howard.

"Hey!" she whispered, when he had disappeared into the shower. "When you were telling him all that stuff, I was tickling his balls with my tongue!"

"You were?" I was indignant. "We're supposed to pretend you're eating my pussy! If you're going to change the routine, you have to tell me," I hissed. "You know I can't see what you're doing from that angle!"

"He seemed to like what I was doing!"

"Well," I was forced to concede, "I suppose that's what really matters." But still. How annoying.

Private Life Romance, relationships, and the personal side of Table Talk