My phone's gone crazy. He really has done it, he's distributed my calling cards. The phone started ringing last night as I was getting ready to go out. Obviously, I didn't answer it, but it kept ringing and ringing and ringing. Every couple of minutes. By the time I got back from Walkabout I had 23 missed calls. I'm going to have to throw the bloody thing away.

There it is, it's ringing again. Jesus, it's 9.30 in the morning. Who the fuck phones a prostitute at 9.30 in the morning? How can you be randy this early? Men! You should castrate the bloody lot of them. Well, not all of them, maybe. Maybe keep a few in reserve. Like Simon. Pleasure boys...

Anyway, I need to do the diary entry for last night first. After I'd finished with str8guy I went to Walkabout with Tess. I was really in the mood for that after what I'd just gone through :-( All the time I was thinking - 'has he done it, has he distributed those cards? Are there any of them here?' As soon as I got there I went and looked in the loos, and then realised how stupid I was - they'd be in the men's loos, not the women's. I was just losing the plot, not thinking straight. Every time someone looked at me I wondered if they had one of my cards in their pocket. It was like the first time I appeared naked on the webcam, but much, much worse. The webcam was going out all over the world - the chances of anyone local seeing were remote in the extreme. But str8guy was threatening to plaster these cards all over town. Someone was bound to see them and recognise me.

So I kept my head down and my mouth shut. Tess could tell I wasn't up for it, and at one stage she dragged me to the loos.

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Come off it, Molly. I know you too well."

"Just not in the mood, tonight."

"Well, don't fuck it up for me. I am, and the guy in the blue tee-shirt is taking me home tonight."

"What, the ginger?"

"He's not ginger."

"He bloody well is. He's like Basil fucking Brush. It's your shout. If you fancy eating ginger pubes all night, go ahead." "He isn't. And anyway, have you seen his pecs? Who cares what colour his pubes are. I'll shave them off, if I have to."

"You would, too."

"Believe it sweety." She smiled wickedly. "Anyway, he's mine tonight, so don't mess things up. Okay?" I nodded. "So are we going to get you set up, too?" I shook my head. "Sure?" I nodded again. "You been crying?"

"No."

"Has that boyfriend of yours been messing you about?"

I had to think for a minute before I remembered she was talking about Simon. "No, no, honestly, nothing like that."

"'Cos if he has, tell me, and Sister Tess will go and rip out his bollocks and stuff them down his throat for you."

"No, it's not that."

"So?"

"Just family stuff. Nothing to worry about."

That did the trick. Tess was not someone to start delving into family problems. Men stuff, yes; families, no. "Well, just get out there and find a guy who'll get your knickers moist and take him home and shag him."

"Tess's patent cure-all: a good shag."

"Works for me, babe."

She draped her arm around me and led me back to the dance floor. I went to the bar to get a couple of breezers and by the time I returned she was entwined around the ginger, locking tonsils and performing an intimate body search. Well, at least she was happy. I put the drinks down and looked round.

Too late, I saw Thomas my schoolboy lover walking towards me. I really didn't want to speak to him, and I tried to look away, but he'd already seen me and sidled over towards me, waving his drink. "Hi," he yelled over the music.

"Hi."

"Haven't seen you for ages."

"Been busy."

"Missed you."

"Yeah, me too."

"Really?"

"To be honest, no, not really. Sorry."

"Oh, okay, I'm sorry. Is it - someone else?"

"What?"

"Have you found someone else?"

"Listen Thomas, I don't want to be rude. But there was never an 'us', so there can't be a 'someone else.' Okay?"

He started leering at me, which was not the response I expected. He bent forward and thrust his face next to mine. All I could see was acne. I had a tremendous urge to squeeze a blackhead on his nose, but decency prevailed. "Well in that case 3;" he barked.

"What?"

"In that case, maybe I can reawaken your desire." He grinned inanely. "Remind you what a good time I can give you. Give you a chance to show off your special skills again."

"Sorry Thomas, really - no offence."

"Just think what I can do with this big cock of mine."

"Yes, I remember."

A huge grin burst across his face and he visibly swaggered. "Cool. Where d'you wanna go?"

"What?"

"For a shag? Toilets?" He stroked his hand down my arm and pressed his palm against my left tit. "Or back to yours, maybe. I love lying in your bed. Having you look after me. You know 3; the way you do 3;"

I slapped him hard across the face. I swear the noise could be heard above the din from the DJ. "Can't you take no for an answer? I'm not a fucking whore." Not strictly accurate, I know, but in this context it was. A look of hurt bewilderment filled his face and he retreated toward his laughing friends, dragging his bruised ego behind him. My hand stung, and people were staring at me. I had visions of them checking my calling card and looking at my face and shouting 'it's her, it's her.' I wanted to die.

Tess sprinted up to me. "What the hell you playing at, girl?"

I suddenly felt tireder than I'd ever known. "Tess, I've had enough. I'm going home."

"You can't, I've nearly pulled."

"Come off it, Tess. You could pull in an empty field. You don't need me to hold your hand." I moved towards the door. "Ring me tomorrow. Tell me all the details then." She pulled at my arm, but I knew it was half-hearted and she wasn't going to argue with me. I smiled and kissed her. "Have fun." And I left.

In the street, with the bouncers watching me curiously, I stopped and checked my phone. Already there were 21 missed calls. 21 missed appointments and a slapped face. My first night as a whore wasn't going too well, was it?