steel. Dizzy from a temptation I scarce dared contemplate, I felt my heart fall like a stone dropped into an abyss.
“My poor Henry,” Kate said softly. For the first time since we had seen each other again, a hint of emotion appeared in her eyes: sympathy perhaps, possibly love, and most certainly, pity. Her hand, disengaging from mine, touched my neck; she approached, and I felt the fleeting brush of her lips against my forehead. I bent forward to lay my head upon her shoulder, if only for an instant, but already she had drawn back and was turning to leave. Stifled by anguish, I watched her go. The cry that rose stuck in my throat, for I knew that if she were to come back, I would be forever lost to myself and to Butterfly.
I had persuaded myself that my trip to New York would deliver me from the temptation Kate increasingly presented. I could not have been more deceived. Before leaving I had in a fit of determination consigned Marika's pernicious gift to the fire, but this in no way expelled it from my mind. Soon I regretted my virtuous action; at home the hope of Marika coming had kept me from sleeping with my cheeks upon it as I should have liked, but in my hotel room, freed of that consideration, I longed for it with rage. Needless to say, the woman who had worn it was also constantly on my mind. Often I caught myself wondering how I could visit her in Creighton without being indiscreet. Determined as I was to break away from her, such thoughts made me angry, yet the daydreams continued, and once caught in them, no greater sweetness seemed possible than to gaze again upon her face. For all that I ridiculed it, the thought came to me that I should willingly give my life for another look at her.
Marika, too, was in no way forgotten. The flurry of business appointments, personal calls and sumptuous dinners failed todistract me, nor did the women introduced by a friend in New York do anything to allay my unquenched desire. The night before my departure, I had against all expectation been awakened by Marika slipping into my bed. She had come, she explained, since I was leaving in the morning, just to keep me company; hadn't she said she would? Although my passion remained unconsumated, the caresses we exchanged and the pleasure of holding her fucksome, odorous body in my arms was such that I shed tears of joy and gratitude and perhaps of relief over the fact that she had finally come to me. Before she left, she made me swear to visit her in her new home—as if I could, after half enjoying her, have stayed away.
A note in French came the day after I got home:
Chéri,
It is lovely by the sea, but the water is cold. Come and make me warm. The mistress goes riding every morning at nine. Don't be late. Come soon—my womb cries out for your inundations.
M .
30
----
----
----
----
The house seemed deserted with Kate gone. Both Pinkerton and Lisa were impatient to talk about their recent guest, but neither wanted to be the one to broach the subject. When Pinkerton finally asked after their friend, Lisa described the house outside Creighton and told of her trip down with Kate to help her get settled. She had spent two nights there. “By the way, I am to tell you that if you'd care to join her for tea, you're cordially invited.”
Ignoring Lisa's expectant look, Pinkerton asked, “Why was shein such a hurry to go there?” His voice betrayed his irritation over Kate's departure.
“You mean, why couldn't she have stayed until you left?” Lisa returned a little sharply. “For all the attention you showed her, I can't think why in the world she should. In any case, she had arranged to rent the house on the twentieth.”
Pinkerton, at a loss for a rejoinder, made a vague gesture of dissatisfaction and silently looked off into space.
“You will go, I hope?” Lisa pursued.
Deep down he knew he would, but he was loath to admit it. “Maybe,” he said with a studied indifference to cover the heartbeat that had
“My poor Henry,” Kate said softly. For the first time since we had seen each other again, a hint of emotion appeared in her eyes: sympathy perhaps, possibly love, and most certainly, pity. Her hand, disengaging from mine, touched my neck; she approached, and I felt the fleeting brush of her lips against my forehead. I bent forward to lay my head upon her shoulder, if only for an instant, but already she had drawn back and was turning to leave. Stifled by anguish, I watched her go. The cry that rose stuck in my throat, for I knew that if she were to come back, I would be forever lost to myself and to Butterfly.
I had persuaded myself that my trip to New York would deliver me from the temptation Kate increasingly presented. I could not have been more deceived. Before leaving I had in a fit of determination consigned Marika's pernicious gift to the fire, but this in no way expelled it from my mind. Soon I regretted my virtuous action; at home the hope of Marika coming had kept me from sleeping with my cheeks upon it as I should have liked, but in my hotel room, freed of that consideration, I longed for it with rage. Needless to say, the woman who had worn it was also constantly on my mind. Often I caught myself wondering how I could visit her in Creighton without being indiscreet. Determined as I was to break away from her, such thoughts made me angry, yet the daydreams continued, and once caught in them, no greater sweetness seemed possible than to gaze again upon her face. For all that I ridiculed it, the thought came to me that I should willingly give my life for another look at her.
Marika, too, was in no way forgotten. The flurry of business appointments, personal calls and sumptuous dinners failed todistract me, nor did the women introduced by a friend in New York do anything to allay my unquenched desire. The night before my departure, I had against all expectation been awakened by Marika slipping into my bed. She had come, she explained, since I was leaving in the morning, just to keep me company; hadn't she said she would? Although my passion remained unconsumated, the caresses we exchanged and the pleasure of holding her fucksome, odorous body in my arms was such that I shed tears of joy and gratitude and perhaps of relief over the fact that she had finally come to me. Before she left, she made me swear to visit her in her new home—as if I could, after half enjoying her, have stayed away.
A note in French came the day after I got home:
Chéri,
It is lovely by the sea, but the water is cold. Come and make me warm. The mistress goes riding every morning at nine. Don't be late. Come soon—my womb cries out for your inundations.
M .
30
----
----
----
----
The house seemed deserted with Kate gone. Both Pinkerton and Lisa were impatient to talk about their recent guest, but neither wanted to be the one to broach the subject. When Pinkerton finally asked after their friend, Lisa described the house outside Creighton and told of her trip down with Kate to help her get settled. She had spent two nights there. “By the way, I am to tell you that if you'd care to join her for tea, you're cordially invited.”
Ignoring Lisa's expectant look, Pinkerton asked, “Why was shein such a hurry to go there?” His voice betrayed his irritation over Kate's departure.
“You mean, why couldn't she have stayed until you left?” Lisa returned a little sharply. “For all the attention you showed her, I can't think why in the world she should. In any case, she had arranged to rent the house on the twentieth.”
Pinkerton, at a loss for a rejoinder, made a vague gesture of dissatisfaction and silently looked off into space.
“You will go, I hope?” Lisa pursued.
Deep down he knew he would, but he was loath to admit it. “Maybe,” he said with a studied indifference to cover the heartbeat that had
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