Butterfly (17 page)

close. After all, how could it happen? The companions have no idea who we are. Our

identities are well protected. Only the director has access to the files, and she certainly

isn’t going to talk.”

“Still, the secret of this place is bound to get out sooner or later. Just let the papers get

a whiff of it and we’re all in deep trouble.”

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69

Trudie flashed Jessica a smile and said, “Since when have we ever let
that
stop us from

doing something?” Then the parking valet opened her door and she handed him the keys.

The plan was for Trudie to do some shopping downstairs in Fanelli while Jessica went

with an attendant into the elevator. While they waited for the attendant to arrive Jessica

and Trudie browsed through a rack of expensive coats. Lowering her voice so that no one

else could hear, Jessica said, “What does Alexis do when she comes here?”

“My cousin the doctor is in reality a frustrated artist. She goes for wild, outlandish sce-

narios. Some of them get really elaborate—costumes, props, everything. She’s very much

into the fantasy thing.”

“Does
she
request the same companion each time?”

Trudie shook her head. “Alexis is into variety. A different guy each time, a different

scene.”

Jessica did not deny that the prospect of experiencing sex with another man, an expert,

titillated her. She had been a virgin when she married John, and she had not been with

anyone else since. She had always supposed her husband was good in bed—she even occa-

sionally had an orgasm—but she really had no way of making any comparison. She also

had no way of knowing if she was satisfied or not after sex. She liked it when John made

love to her, but there were times when she preferred to be left alone to make dream-love

with her fantasy cowboy.

Jessica wondered if Trudie was right, about Butterfly being more than just a place to

go for sex. Could a woman find fulfillment and satisfaction in acting out her fantasies?

Was this a way of learning to cope, of finding answers possibly, a catharsis that stripped

away inhibitions and old phobias and taboos?

But why am
I
here? Jessica wondered finally, as the attendant came up and told her the

director would see her now.

And then she thought,
John,
surprising herself. It had something to do with her hus-

band, John.

She was taken upstairs and shown into a room that was tastefully decorated in misty

desert tones, with a Navajo rug on the floor, dried plants in Indian pottery, a Georgia

O’Keefe print on the wall, and a coffee table on which had been laid out a crystal carafe

of white wine, two long-stemmed glasses, and a platter of small sandwiches. As Jessica

took a seat she realized she was suddenly nervous.

John came to her mind again, as if he had followed her here, as if he were haunting her.

That would please him, Jessica knew; John liked to think of himself as her guardian,

her
conscience.
Well, she had to concede that maybe he was. But she had allowed him to

take that job; she had no one to blame but herself. John had come into Jessica’s life during

a period of stressful transition—from college to law school. In her childhood and teen

years her father and the Church had been her conscience and guide. Then she had gone

away to college, away from her father’s authority, and had eventually lapsed from the

Church. When she met John he immediately filled a void in her life. Even in their first

days of dating John would tell her what to wear, advise her on whom she should make

friends with and whom not, order for her in a restaurant, choose the movies they would

see. And Jessica had let him. She had been in love and anxious to please.

70

Kathryn Harvey

But the problem was, once she had her law degree and was out on her own, a profes-

sional in her own right, their roles did not change. Only just this morning, before she had

left for the office and her meeting with Hutchinson, John had made some critical com-

ment about the way she was dressed. So, to save the peace, she had gone upstairs and

changed.

In eight years of marriage she had never defied him.

But she was defying him now, in a most outrageous way, and the sudden realization of

that, of knowing why she had really decided to join Butterfly—to secretly break the rules,

John’s
rules—made her suddenly giddy.

The director of Butterfly, who did not give Jessica her name, was tall and slender—in

her fifties, Jessica judged—and dressed in a tailored suit. She came through the door and

greeted her guest with a warm handshake. Then they sat down and got right to business.

Money changed hands—memberships were always paid for in cash—and Jessica was

given a butterfly charm on a gold bracelet. The director explained the rules, but Jessica

had already heard it all from Trudie. When the director said, “Do you have any ques-

tions?” Jessica said, “About the companions. Who are they? How are they recruited?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. We protect their identities as strictly as we do the iden-

tities of our members. But please rest assured that they go through a thorough screening,

psychologically as well as physically, and that you have nothing to fear from them. I must

also add that it is a club rule that members and companions do not fraternize outside

Butterfly. Several members have requested a companion to come to their home, or meet

them at a hotel. But, for security and safety, we cannot permit that. For this reason we do

not allow them to give their real names, or reveal where they live. And we must insist that

our members, for their own safety, are as discreet about their own identities.”

“Who in here will know me?”

“Only myself and my assistant. The phone number I gave you rings only in this office,

and one of us is here at all times. We do keep a file on each member, but the files are

coded, and only I and my assistant have access to them. In each file we record a member’s

personal preferences, or complaints, if you have any. For example, if you don’t wish to

choose a companion from among the models downstairs—a few of our members are

uncomfortable with that process—you simply give us a call and leave the choice of com-

panion to our discretion. Many members request the same companion each time; if that

is
your
preference, it would be noted in your file. Also, if you find a companion unsatis-

factory in any way, that, too, will be noted in your file and you will not be placed with

him a second time. It would be of great help if you could give me an idea of what you

would like to see Butterfly provide for you.”

How strange it was, Jessica decided, to sit in this room and actually tell this woman,

whom she had met only minutes ago, the most secret fantasy of her heart. But she felt

curiously safe and unthreatened, even though she was in an unfamiliar setting. It had a lot

to do with the director: she had a warm and intimate manner; she was the kind of woman

who put people at their ease, invited them to confess their secrets and feel better for it

afterward. “Trudie said you have a room here,” Jessica found herself saying, “that’s been

made into a Western bar…”

BUTTERFLY

71

And there was a model downstairs, he had been wearing a Kenya safari outfit—he was

blond and had an interesting face. He resembled the star of a currently popular TV cop

show, and, more, he was the image of her fantasy lover….

“Do you wish to begin today?” the director said after Jessica had disclosed the details

of her desired scenario.

No, she couldn’t begin today. Jessica had to fly to Las Vegas and take depositions from

witnesses in an upcoming trial. “Next week,” she said. “I’ll have to call you.”

As Jessica shook hands again with the director and walked to the door, she wondered,

But will 1 really come back here and visit that Western bar? Will I
,
for the first time in my life,

let a strange man make love to me?

But as she stepped into the hall where an attendant was waiting to escort her to the

store downstairs, Jessica knew suddenly beyond a doubt that she would come back.

She had to.

10

San Antonio, Texas: 1953

When Rachel accidentally discovered Danny Mackay’s secret, they had been living in

San Antonio for a year. In that year, she had seen a change come over him, and she had

been wondering if she might be the cause of that change. And then she stumbled upon

the secret.

They were driving to a honky-tonk on the edge of town to spend one of Rachel’s infre-

quent nights off together. She had adjusted to seeing Danny sporadically, with his not

showing up when he said he would, and then showing up when she least expected him,

but privately she didn’t like it. Whenever they parted, after an evening of fun and love-

making, Rachel would be happy for a while. And then the days would roll by and Danny’s

absence would get longer and longer and she would grow depressed and Hazel’s cus-

tomers would complain. And then there Danny would be, miraculously appearing at the

back door to take her out for enchiladas and a drive.

That was what had happened tonight, after six weeks of not hearing from him. Rachel

had started to grow frantic and had mentioned something to Hazel about going out to

look for him, when all of a sudden there he was, smiling his half-smile at her and mes-

merizing her with his lazy green eyes. Danny had a way of casting a spell on Rachel that

made her forget her misery and the long lonely days without him; he could make her sud-

denly happy and reaffirm her conviction that there was nothing in the world she would

not do for him.

Rachel didn’t know that Danny had that effect on most people and that she was not

the first, nor would she be the last, to fall under his magic.

Some of Danny Mackay’s charisma was in his nature; he had been born with it. But a

lot of it, Rachel had begun to realize in the past year, was practiced. Danny affected a cer-

tain way of walking, he struck poses that he knew were flattering. Rachel had even come

upon him once standing in front of a mirror, practicing his mischievous sideways look, a

kind of sexy-sly look, which he had perfected, that he knew few people could resist. He

was also a careful dresser. When she had met Danny in El Paso, he had been neat and

clean, but his clothes had been of poor quality. Now he dressed expensively, using the

money Rachel earned lying on her back.

But those weren’t the only ways in which Danny was changing. And Rachel hadn’t

been able to put her finger on it until she unwittingly discovered the secret buried in the

backseat of his car.

72

BUTTERFLY

73

She had said, “I’m cold, Danny,” and he didn’t say anything. He just sat there in his

usual distracted way, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, his knee going up and

down—so like Danny, always moving, full of that curious energy he never seemed to be

able to discharge. So Rachel turned around in her seat and reached down for the blanket

that lay on the floor behind her. And when she pulled it up, out tumbled his secret hoard.

She said, “What’s that?” and Danny, seeing what had happened, suddenly swerved the

car to the side of the road, slammed on the brakes, yanked the blanket out of her hand

and shouted, “What’re you snooping around my things for!”

She stared at him, afraid for the moment that he was going to hit her. Then she said,

“I’m sorry. I was cold—”

“Look what you did,” he muttered, stretching over the seat to retrieve the scattered

books and papers.

“What is it, Danny? What is all that stuff?”

“What does it look like?” he muttered defensively, casting her a guarded look out of

the corner of his eye.

“But you don’t read, Danny. You don’t even
like
books.” When Rachel saw the three-

ring binder with its bright blue school logo, her eyebrows arched. “Oh, Danny! Are you

going to
school?”

He gave her a suspicious look. “Yeah. What about it?”

“I think it’s wonderful!”

He slowly straightened, keeping his eye on her. “You do?”

“It’s the most wonderful thing in the world!” She threw her arms around his neck and