Monday, June 14, 2004

Phone Call with Miss K

"I don't know what I should do about this – and maybe I shouldn't do anything. But I just wanted to get your opinion about a call I just got from one of my clients."
"Okay," I said. "Fire away."
"Well," she said. "I posted on one of the escort-review boards. And this guy called me and was like, 'oh, I'm so glad I found your post, I saw you a long time ago and I'd lost your number'."
"Did you remember who he was?" I asked.
"Sort of vaguely. But that wasn't the weird part. Then he said, 'Yeah, I remembered where your apartment building was, but I couldn't remember which apartment you were in. So I was thinking about just coming over there and knocking on all the doors until I found you.' "
I sucked in my breath. "Are you kidding me? He said that?"
"Oh yeah."
"Oh my God."

What Miss K and I didn't have to say to each other was that this is a really, really bad idea. The fastest way to go from "he's a nice guy" to "he's a deranged stalker" in a working girl's mind is to show up at her place when you don't have an appointment. We're rather jumpy about that, and not without reason.

(Note: This doesn't include "sensual bodywork" establishments that usually employ several people and are set up to accommodate drop-in business. I'm talking about women who work independently.)

It's not just the "stalker" thing, either. Miss K does what's called incall service. That means you come to her - she has an apartment that's exclusively for her client rendezvous. Now, the prime directive of any working girl is: be discreet. Fly under the radar. And unlike the outcall ladies, who visit the client in his space, having a dedicated workspace means you're a fixed target. Thus, one strives to minimize anything that might make one's neighbors say, "Huh, that's funny. I wonder what she's doing in there…" That way lies disaster. Or at least a whole lot of hassle involving a moving van.
So the mere idea of this guy knocking on every door of an apartment building asking for her…Jeeee-sus. One would hope he'd have the brains not to say, "I'm looking for this call-girl I saw once…" But who the hell knows what he'd do?

"Wait," she said. "It gets better."
"Oh no. What?"
"Well, I told him that it was a good thing he hadn't done that because it would not have been cool. He didn't seem to get why not, so I said, 'What if I'd been with somebody else when you knocked on the door and interrupted us?'"
"That should have made sense to him."
"It didn't. He said, 'Hey, I would have just joined right in'."
I held the phone at arms length and let out a shriek of outrage. Then I put the phone back up to my ear. "No, he didn't say that. Tell me he didn't seriously say that."
"That is unbe-fucking-lievable."
"It's pretty amazing."
"'…I would have just joined right in'. That has got to be the most mind-blowingly dumbass thing I've heard in days."
"So, the question is; what should I do about it?"
I thought about it. "Do you feel like you've contained this one guy?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"But you're wondering if some other maroon might do the same thing?"
"Let's just say that, thanks to him, it's become a concern of mine."
"I think you could go back to the message board where you post and say something like, 'Dear gentlemen, I'm glad you like me, but please don't come wandering around in my building knocking on random doors and talking to my neighbors about me, and please don't just show up at my door and expect me to let you in.' I mean, say it nicely, but say it. Most of the guys are pretty smart and they'll be right there with that. And hopefully you can give a little tap with the clue stick to the rest of them."
"That sounds like a good idea. I'll probably wait a few days, and then I'll do something like that. Thanks a bunch."
We hang up.
"'…I would have just joined right in'". I mutter to myself. "Fucking crazy man."

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