Private Entrance (The Butterfly Trilogy) Read Free Page B

"Woman next door," and she ran away, cheeks burning.
         Flustered, she hurried back inside, pulling the room service cart with her, and closed the sliding glass door as if to cover her faux pas. Blundering into someone's private garden was something the very proper and polite Sissy Whitboro of Rockford, Illinois would never do. And she had never seen two people "do it" before. Not in real life.
         As she collected herself and sat down to eggs and toast (guiltily thinking that the man next door had taken a lot longer than Ed ever did) she saw an envelope standing between the silver salt and pepper shakers. It appeared to be an invitation.
         Made of pale pink and cream paper, the outside of the card said Fantasy

Encounters. Sissy opened it and scanned it in puzzlement. "Enjoy your special fantasy in one of our richly appointed rooms: the Castle Tower, the Spanish Parlor, the Robert E. Lee Drawing Room...May we recommend Antony and Cleopatra or Robin Hood and Maid Marian... We offer a wide variety of costumes and special accessories...Male and female companions...Complete discretion and privacy."
         Sissy was shocked. First her neighbors and now this. What kind of a place had she come to?
         The night before, while she was unpacking in this lovely little dwelling done in bright orange, purple and yellow, aptly called the Bird of Paradise Cottage, the manager of The Grove, Ms. Vanessa Nichols, had paid Sissy a visit, welcoming her to the resort and to let her know she would be having a private luncheon with The Grove's owner, Ms. Abby Tyler, at noon today. Ms. Nichols had gone on to explain that the week's stay was all expenses paid and that Mrs. Whitboro was invited to avail herself of all services. But Sissy had no intention of making use of the resort's dubious services—fantasy companions!—she had come for just one reason. She hadn't said as much to Ms. Nichols of course, but she did ask one question: How was it possible she had won a contest she didn't remember entering?
         Ms. Nichols had replied vaguely, "It's something we do now and then."
         Whatever the reason, Sissy had decided she was going to take advantage of her good fortune. It was a perfect opportunity, with no demands from her kids, husband and the many committees and clubs she belonged to, to put together the family album—a project she had been putting off for too long.
         So now she proceeded, on this beautiful Monday morning, with desert sunshine streaming through diaphanous draperies, spotlighting the remnants of her eggs and toast breakfast, to unpack all the treasures she had brought with her.
         When she had packed for the trip, she had reserved an extra suitcase just for the project and had gone into Ed's den, to the closet where they threw everything that "someday" would receive attention, and she had grabbed boxes, envelopes, and bags stuffed with photos, souvenirs and memorabilia, and crammed them into the suitcase to be sorted at the other end.
         The photographs and mementoes went back fifteen years and represented a good life. A full life.
         Ed had done very well for himself as the general manager of a factory that made machine tools. With over a thousand employees under him, Ed was an important man in town. A devoted, faithful husband, not one to begrudge his wife luxuries and pleasures. Ed was very generous, including to himself, having recently joined the very expensive Rockford Men's Racquet Club. It had been at the suggestion of Hank Curly, his new sales manager, who was a fitness freak. Ed and Hank went two and three nights a week to play racquet ball, and the results showed: Ed's incipient paunch had vanished and his arms grew hard biceps. The change had made him, curiously, even more generous. A new car for Sissy, all the charge accounts and new clothes she could want. Dinner every Saturday at the country club. Add to that the beautiful home and three wonderful kids,