Kindle Notes & Highlights
In other words, it might actually be classier to have a few working names.
Not having the faintest idea what she was foretelling, Mother replied, in that prim tone (which remains her parental hallmark), “When you grow up, you will have the freedom to choose any name you wish. Until then you will be called Nancy.”
I’m a better twenty-six-year-old today, at thirty-something, than I was at twenty-six.
“Your tongue . . .” I was cooing again. “I could get addicted to that tongue!”
Guys like Matt don’t mate with bubbly chicks.
But unambitious is permissible (in a girl) if you’re not too bubbly, and if you’re respectable.
Matt never reads fiction that was written before 1960 but wants to marry a girl who does.
What happens to the bubbly “Sabrina” when Nancy marries Matt? Must I burn the bimbette to save the woman?
Never let a guy feel he’s being rushed.
And never let him know why! Just in case he does feel rushed.
“Do you know what your most interesting feature is?” he asked dreamily. “I am always curious to know what a woman will designate as her most important feature. Women are so often at odds with their paramours.”
I instantly feel, oh, 10 to 30 percent more attractive as soon as I have an appointment lined up.
“No quarrel with your assessment—but for me, it’s your skin.” “Really?” How, after a decade of seeing me, does this man come up with such charming new material? He’s a born flirt, the genuine article.
How time flies when you’re being hustled by a veteran john!
The terrible twenties! She really believes she doesn’t want all this attention. Even though she’s wearing a cropped cashmere sweater and the tightest Dolce &
“Well, I’m sick of everyone asking me where I’m from,” she told me. “Especially men.” “Then go back to Trinidad where everybody will know exactly where you’re from. And you won’t be
Elspeth is one of those A-cup gals who can maintain her respectability in a see-through blouse.
If, just minutes ago, he felt the tremors of your clitoris against his tongue, it’s a cinch to get him off, then send him out early, feeling pleased with himself.
Should I have worn sluttish stilts instead of flats?
Not with all these women gliding around on their party stilts while I stand here in my shiny good-girl flats. Deep cover.
It bothered me that she had stopped asking where the chiropractor trained and was now on a new line of questioning altogether—just when I thought I might have a suitable answer for the last question. And this was all supposed to be so boring!
Increasingly, I find that the more provocative the outfit, the straighter the job. I almost wonder if a display of cleavage and flesh will make me blend in more.
Jason’s the money in that marriage—an M&A lawyer. Elspeth, the assistant D.A., sees herself as the integrity. Naturally, he’s the polite one and she’s the loudmouth.
What did I get myself into here? Tribeca? Oh god. Overpriced, inconvenient, miles from my hairdresser and my bikini waxing . . . not to mention my shrink.
February fourteenth. A great night to be a call girl without a valentine and a terrible night for madams, because too many girls have relationships that tie them up (so to speak) for the evening.
but his whole idea of what downtown is really about is just silly! And false! Moving downtown isn’t what makes you a downtown person. It’s so naive! He’s not really a New Yorker,”
You’re supposed to be able to say anything about anybody in therapy, but I felt guilty.
I guess I’m like one of those clients—those men who keep holding back because they don’t want to come. They don’t want their session to
end, and they just keep prolonging it.”
so it’s perfect for Matt, but it’s miles away from everything I do. Does
If I move in with him, I’ll—I’ll be reduced to doing outcalls.” (What else? Rent Jasmine’s bedroom by the hour? The bulk of my business today is in my apartment.)
“You weren’t afraid to express your feelings. Your emotions saved your life! I think that’s something to be proud of.
Too much coke. The client was upset because I couldn’t make him come and his hour was up.”
I’ve gotten away with so much—how much longer can it go on?
persuasive and passionate, and everything was okay again. I realized that I was a success. My nightmare was a delusion.
I was spellbound! By my own respectability!”
“You fell for his ruse.” “Yes. I took it as a sign! It made me feel that we belonged together after all. He used his wits—he figured out a scheme to get back into my apartment and into my life.
“It made me, you know, respect him as a guy.
I was just so dazzled. My heart was pounding because he had captured me. He proved that he wasn’t just my mental toy—he surprised me totally.”
“But ambivalence about marriage is not unique to your profession,” Wendy continued. “I meet hundreds of women in my practice—and a lot of men—who use their work to explain a romantic disappointment or a fractured relationship.”
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.
My body, still tingling with anxiety about its checkered past, now felt safe, desirable, mysteriously protected.
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 Allie met with him, took his money, and left him with an unrequited hard-on.
“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!
Saved by a bourgeois bohemian’s worst hang-ups! I ♥ Manhattan and its many varied neuroses.
The neighborhood caste system is alive, and all’s right with the world. Or at least with the borough.
A coat for all zip codes.
VIEWing. Roxana and I have reached what I would call a vaginal detente: you don’t show
