The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (23 page)

When eventually he returned to the laptop, he clicked on the remaining link: ‘FAQ’.

I hope to answer as many Frequently Asked Questions here as possible. If there is something that you need to ask me, please email me. However, I will ignore questions that I find rude, too personal or irrelevant to our meeting.

Q:
Is that really you in the pictures?

A:
Absolutely. What you see is what you get. Moreover, these are present pictures.

Q:
But why hide your face?

A:
Safety and privacy issues are at stake. But I assure you I’m a looker (pardon my immodesty, just stating the truth).

Q:
Are you available for a shorter period of time? Say one or two hours?

A:
No, sorry, I’m not.

Q:
What kind of service do you offer?

A:
I hope to offer a warm and friendly style of escort service.

Q:
Can we get to know each other by e-mail or phone first?

A:
I’m sorry, but I really do not have the time for that.

Q:
Do you offer BDSM, Watersports etc?

A:
I do not offer exotic services at all. All necessary personal hygiene is essential. There are no exceptions to this.

Q:
Do you do threesomes? Orgies perhaps?

A:
No, I don’t.

Q:
What about straight sex?

A:
My fees are for my companionship only.

Q:
Are you bisexual?

A:
No, sir, I am not. Nor am I a lesbian.

Q:
Are your fees negotiable?

A:
No, they are not.

Q:
Can I write a review?

A:
No, sorry, you may not. I find them demeaning, good or bad. I ask that you respect my need for privacy, as I promise to respect yours. I’m sure your partner or your friends or family wouldn’t appreciate a detailed review of what I encounter with you. If you do not agree with this, then I ask that you not make a reservation with me.

Q:
Are you married? Children?

A:
No, to both…although it’s none of your business.

Q:
What turns you on?

A:
Good manners, respect for each other, and good taste.

Q:
What turns you off?

A:
Ill-mannered people, uncleanliness, and those who treat women like dirt.

Q:
Can we be just friends first?

A:
Sure, but the fees for my time remain the same.

Q:
I am a rich guy, but right now I am facing a cash crunch. It is temporary and I’ll pay you later.

A:
No problem…we’ll meet later.

Q:
What if I get drunk and get too naughty?

A:
I really hope that never happens. But if it does, let me assure you, I may be a petite woman, but I can more than look after myself. Believe me, you don’t want to find out.

Q:
Well, for a woman who doesn’t do this and doesn’t do that, you charge a mean penny.

A:
Well, that happens to be me. Take me or leave me. We live in a free world…free choice for all.

Q:
Can I film you? Or perhaps a few snaps?

A:
Absolutely not. We must both respect the other’s privacy. I cannot emphasize that enough.

Q:
One last question—can I meet you at your home?

A:
I’m sorry, but my personal life is out of bounds. There can be no compromise on this whatsoever—I’ve said this repeatedly. Hope I’ve got through to you by now.

.

S
avannah’s mind remained paralyzed for a long winded moment. Then she leapt out of her chair and made a wild dash for the washroom. But before she could make it, her head began to spin wildly and she collapsed to the floor.

It was fear. Pure, twenty-four karat fear. Primal fear. Fear of a butterfly that had been snatched by a lizard—fear of life coming to an abrupt end. Bowel churning fear.

The laptop, still logged on to the Internet, lay blinking, the site http://www.butterflylass.net open on its homepage.

.

W
olf’s face was set in rock as he opened the safe. He thrust his hand in and after some probing pulled out the Webber and Smith .38. It was a licensed revolver, but had never been used and for a second he simply stared at the weapon. His skull thundered with blood. Two blue veins were popped across his forehead like bursting pipes. He cocked the hammer and found the gun was empty. He found the boxful of bullets and began shoving the ammunition in the slots.

There was a knock on the door and the turning of the handle. Wolf threw the gun back in and banged the safe door shut.

It was Rochelle.
I should’ve fucking known.
He should’ve locked the door.

He heard her suck in her breath sharply on seeing him.

“Wolf!” she cried, stopping abruptly in her tracks. “What!”

He turned away. His jaw trembled but he clenched his teeth and somehow steadied it.

She had recovered from the first flush of dread and was quickly beside him.

“What’s it, Wolf, you look terrible! What happened?”

He turned further away from her, but she caught his face in her hands.

“Aren’t you well? God have mercy, you look like the devil himself!” Her face was alight with the alarm and confusion that she felt. “Do you want me to get a doctor?”

“Rochelle, please! I’m alright, okay.”

“But you’re not! God have mercy, look at you!”

“I didn’t sleep last night, that’s all, don’t worry.” It was a major, major effort to check himself, an effort that tortured him. But he was desperate no one know what was going on inside him.

“But you returned around two-thirty, didn’t you?”

How does she fucking know?! She’s keeping tabs on me twenty-four seven now?!
“I was on the Internet thereafter,” he said, his voice dull. “Look, Rochelle, I have to go out. So if you’ll please leave.”

But she didn’t budge. Wolf gusted past her to the washroom, locked the door, and began slapping on his camouflage. She could stand there all she wanted, the whole fucking day.

When he exited, she was still there. He sat on the edge of the bed and began putting on his shoes.

“Why were you on the Net all night?” he heard her demand.

STOP THIS NOW!

“Wolf, I asked you something!”

A sudden wave of violent emotion swept through him.
What the fuck is it to you?!
But somehow he held his oar, breaking fresh sweat on his brow. He finished with his shoes, then stood up.

“Wolf…dammit!”

Then he lost it. He spun around wildly, his eyes smoking with the fire that burned in his belly.

Rochelle gasped and hurriedly stepped back.

“You mind your own fucking business, okay!” he rasped.

For a long moment she gawked at him, her face flooded with shock and disbelief. Suddenly her eyes loaded, and she turned around and ran out of the room in a blind rush.

Wolf couldn’t have cared less. He could have shot her too. He could have killed everyone…the whole fucking world. He went back to the safe and pulled the gun out again. He put it in his handbag and zipped it. A big shapeless ball of hatred rumbled in his stomach. It poured over into his throat like hot, sticky blood, and in a burst of out-of-control rage, he dashed out of his room.

He got into his car, flung the handbag into the glove box, and tore out of Butcher Garden, almost mowing down the two security guards who had moved out to open the gates for him.

.

S
avannah sank feebly into the living room settee and shut her eyes.
Mary, I’m so tired.

She could feel a faint pulse ticking in her temples, but beyond that she felt curiously light. In fact, a strange empty quietude had come over her, like the one after an all-destructive hurricane, when everything is gone, when there is nothing more to lose, nothing more to fight for, nothing more to cling on to, nothing more to fear.

She was beyond caring now. Nothing mattered anymore. Screw the world, screw one and all. She would go back to Florida, or someplace else. She would drift from day to day and let life take her wherever it wanted to take her next. She didn’t care any longer if she lived, didn’t care if she didn’t. No more did she care about a frigging thing.
Oh, I feel so free!

Still, despite her contemptuous indifference to her situation, she couldn’t help wonder how her website still existed. She had asked the webmaster to disband it two years ago and hadn’t even paid the yearly rent. She should lug the bastards’ arses to court. But then she remembered she had paid for five years together…although she had long abandoned the cellphone number and the email she had given on the website.
What the damn heck, do I even care anymore?

And who could have sent the link to Wolf? Her first thought was Lianne. But it was unlikely, for Lianne didn’t have Wolf’s e-mail address.
Anyways, why the hell am I agonizing about it anymore?

The doorbell startled her and for a second she remained very still.

“Oh, go away!” she said aloud. Who could it be? Lianne? The bell rang again, then there was a sharp knock on the door. Of course it was Lianne. She was supposed to move in with her this morning, and remain with her till the wedding.

At the third bell, Savannah got to her feet with a cuss. What was she going to tell the little witch? She was in no mood to explain anything. She would just thank her for coming and turn her away from the door. Then later, she would call her on the phone and briefly tell her the marriage was off and she would hang up before Lianne created more fuss.

Her head buzzed hollowly as she walked to the door.

It was Wolf.

Savannah felt shivers whiz down her legs and blood left her face in a rush.

.

T
hey stood facing each other, across the center table of the living room.

“Are you still at it?” he demanded. His face was a cement mask.

“W…what?” she mumbled.

“You know what I’m talking about!”