Her nights were fueled by champagne and cocaine; there was sex atop boardroom tables, threesomes, bondage - and $200 when the hour was up.
The life of a call girl - it doesn't sound like the girl next door.
But maybe she is.
Cambridge author Jeannette Angell pulls the down the covers on Boston's invisible, nocturnal culture in her memoir, ``Callgirl'' (The Permanent Press, $26).
``The only grief I'm getting is from people who are saying, `Oh I thought I knew you.' That's where my anxiety has come. Writing about it has put it to rest for me,'' she said during a phone interview. ``My life feels fairly removed right now. I 'm glad I did it as quickly as I did. As I look at it now, it's like it happened to a different person.''
``Could I do it now, no. It was a job.''
Ten years ago, when Angell was 34, her boyfriend wiped out her bank account. With only her meager college lecturer's salary, the graduate of Yale and Boston universities needed to scrape cash together fast to make ends meet.
That's when she answered an escort service ad in the Boston Phoenix.
Her madam, whom she refers to as Peach in the book, didn't provide any tips before Angell went on her first call.
``For a madam, she talks very little about sex. She would say, `Go out and see if it's for you. It's not for everybody.' Until I met other girls who worked for her I couldn't talk to anybody about it because she wouldn't.''
So Angell created her own approach.
``At first, what I would put in my mind was this is a blind date. Then it became second nature,'' the French-born writer said about snuggling up to strangers.
``I saw them as a client. Their looks, bad breath, are secondary. The bad breath got to me more than anything.''
``A waitress waits on somebody who's really rude to her and moves on. In most jobs we don't always choose our assignments. Some people who have to pay for sex are not the most attractive. You think, `This is my client. I have to make him feel good.' It's totally different (than sex in your personal life).'' Full Story...