I was in no mood to hang around with politically correct activist sex workers who didn't know where to wax. Fifth in a series.
Jul 23, 2001 |
Tuesday, 2/15/00: The morning after the night off
In the cab on the way to Carnegie Hall last night, I felt my temperature rising as I checked the clock on my cell phone. As usual, I had not given myself enough time to find a taxi -- a bad habit that I mostly indulge in with boyfriends and rarely with clients. I closed my eyes to block out the Valentine traffic jam on Second Avenue.
I opened my eyes at Park Avenue and 57th. Two girls in smart black suits got out of a limo in front of the Four Seasons Hotel -- where I would be tonight if I were working. Maybe I could somehow escape from this Sinderella Spiral and become, like Jasmine, a sexually active spinster -- a woman with a past, a future, and no serious boyfriend. A woman without nosy future in-laws who ask awkward questions. A woman with less to lose! All the pieces of my life can't possibly fit together for much longer. Something's got to give -- but what?
When I got to my destination, Matt was waiting in the lobby, looking a little shy -- and rather adorable in the tie I gave him for Christmas, the one with small yellow giraffes on a bright red background. He's mine! I thought, with a sudden surge of confidence. His face lit up when I approached.
"Each time I see you," he murmured affectionately, "it's a kind of revelation to me."
I melted against the arm of his jacket and my regrets faded. The pieces do fit, I thought. With Matt, I have a future. My body, still tingling with anxiety about its checkered past, now felt safe, desirable, mysteriously protected.
My doubts drifted out of me during the recital. Later, in his bed, I closed my eyes while he -- quite happily -- did all the work. I reveled in my laziness and encouraged him to take his time.
Wednesday, 2/16/00
A phone call this morning from Jack! "Suzy? Are you available today?"
"I'm sorry," I said carefully. "I, um, have an exercise class in five minutes -- can't talk." You should never tell a john you've blacklisted him. He'll want to have a long conversation with you, attempting to explain himself, pledging to reform -- or trying to convince you that he's innocent. Or he'll try to find out who spread the word of his misdeeds, if he's vengeful. So I'm accidentally unavailable when Jack calls. Unlike Eileen, who feels the need to confront her foes, I'm very clear about not wanting to have enemies in this business. "Can I call you back?" I suggested, as a stall.
"No, don't call me at work," he said nervously. "My son's in the office. Okay, fine, call, but if he answers, just act like you have a wrong number. Call me before five -- I want to see you," he added abruptly. "I'll come right over."
My other phone started ringing, and I quickly hung up.
"It's me!" Allie announced. "I just saw Jack!"
"But he just -- When? Where? What's going on? Where are you?"
"I just got home. We had lunch at La Côte Basque." She giggled and added, "He gave me an envelope. You'll be proud of me. I stood my ground! I told him we couldn't have sex. He said I should keep the envelope anyway. There's enough in here for ... oh, wow. I think I made the right decision."
"Well, he just called me."
"He called you?" Allie sounded incredulous.
"When?"
"Just now!
There was silence. So Allie met with him, took his money, and left him with an unrequited hard-on.
"And what did he want?" she asked. "Did he talk about me?"
"What do you think he wanted? Look, if you insist on playing head games with Jack, he's going to look for satisfaction elsewhere. And no, he didn't say anything about you. The man is not a eunuch. Even if he agrees to act like one when he's having lunch with you."
"Well, I'm not possessive! I don't care who he sees." There was a pause in which I said nothing. Doesn't care who he sees? Nobody asked her! But I didn't want to be the one to point this out. "And don't forget the NYCOT meeting," she reminded me. "You promised to come! See you tomorrow?"
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