Madam of Maple Court (20 page)

Rock extended his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Pam." His voice was surprisingly smooth and cultured. "Marcy's talked quite a bit about you." When their hands were almost touching, he shook his head and snatched his arm back. "Sorry. No handshaking right now. I'm still wet and a little smelly."

Smelly? From some sexual ritual? Semen, perhaps, or vaginal secretions?

"Don't look so shocked, Pam," he said with a wide grin that revealed his even, white teeth. "I've been making osso buco. It's one of my specialities, and my hands are all covered with lamb fat."

"Rock's been taking gourmet cooking classes and we've all been benefitting from tasting his creations," Marcy said. It was all too complicated for Pam. Friendly madams, gourmet cooking motorcycle types?

"How about you all come to dinner tonight?" Rock suggested. "I've got enough to feed an army, including strawberry-rhubarb pie and homemade ice cream for dessert. Actually, if you bring Zack and the kids, that sort of is an army."

Marcy inhaled and closed her eyes at the delicious aroma. "Smells like an offer that's too good to pass up. I don't think Zack has anything planned. I'll call him in a few minutes and make sure. First, though, I want to discuss something with you." She outlined Pam's plan to host a party for Rob and his friends. "I don't think Pam should do this alone, at least not without someone like you to front for her."

"You're right there. I'd love to help, but since it's on a Saturday you know that I can't."

"Of course not. I was hoping you might know someone," Marcy said.

"I can't quite advertise for a bouncer for a sex party, can I?" Pam added, trying to joke her way through her momentary disorientation.

"Let me give it some thought. Can you stay for dinner, too, Pam? I'll ponder while I cook. I'm sure I can come up with someone."

The odors coming from the kitchen were wonderful and Pam was relaxing beneath Rock's charm. "If you're sure it's not an imposition."

"Not at all. You're more than welcome."

"Okay," Marcy said to Rock. "With that set, you go back to work and let me show Pam around." She turned to her friend. "Just give me a minute to call Zack."

"Why don't you keep me company in the kitchen while Marcy does her wifely thing? I've heard a lot about you, Pam. You must be quite something for Marcy to trust you so implicitly. She's very protective of us here and I haven't known her to do this sort of thing with anyone before now."

"I'm complimented."

"You should be. And if she trusts you, I do, too." He started to walk away. "Follow me into the kitchen and I'll tell you all our secrets."

Together they walked to the back of the building. The kitchen was modern, with just about every small appliance imaginable on shelves and counters around the room. At the far end was a door to a small backyard. "When Jenna and Chloe first started this business it was to keep from having to sell this building, and the yard was one of the primary reasons." He ushered her outside into a diminutive walled courtyard with a fountain dribbling water over rocks down to a small fish pond. One small area had been turned over to a small vegetable garden, with vines of ripening tomatoes, zucchini, and cucumber plants. What looked like the green pepper plants she'd seen in the farm stores were the only things that weren't thriving. When he caught the direction of her gaze he said, "I never had any luck with peppers but I try every year."

"This is sensational," she said, genuinely admiring what he'd done. "I wouldn't have imagined this sort of thing existed in the middle of Manhattan. You live here, right?"

"Yup. I've got the whole thing to myself Mondays and Tuesdays and most of the daytimes the rest of the week. When the club is entertaining, I show myself, then keep to my room."

"Marcy told me that the club is closed early in the week. How come? I'd think they could make appointments for those days, too."

"Indeed they could, and sometimes I have to talk Chloe or
Marcy out of doing just that, but it would be just too much. Chloe and Jenna made that a rule early on. Otherwise they'd never have had any time to themselves."

Wilting from the July heat and humidity, Pam followed Rock back into the air-conditioned kitchen where he began to efficiently chop a green pepper with a huge chefs knife. "Store bought, and much better than mine will ever be."

"Can you tell me about Chloe and Jenna?" Pam asked.

"Sure. No secrets. They started the club almost six years ago and Chloe still works here. She loves it and makes great money, enough to spend the entire summer in Europe every year. Jenna is Marcy's sister. They're twins, you know."

"Marcy mentioned her. She lives upstate now with her husband, I gather."

"That's her. They each have a single child and a pair of twins, although Marcy had her twins first. Jenna's twins are just two years old now and my godson is five." He beamed when he spoke of the children. "I assume you'll meet Marcy's group tonight, and Zack, too, if he can make it."

Curious, Pam continued, "What's he like? Zack, I mean."

"He's wonderful and has turned into a real company guy: suits, ties, overtime and all. With his background I didn't expect that. He's in human resources." He chortled.

"So Marcy told me."

"Well," Rock said, attacking several carrots with the knife, "him being in human resources is a bit of a family joke. I don't think I'm telling you something you shouldn't know. Zack originally worked in the business."

Her jaw almost dropped. "I thought Marcy was kidding when she told me that. You mean to say that he owned something like this?"

"He worked here."

Holy shit. Marcy's husband really had been a male prostitute. This entire group of people was getting stranger and stranger. But Marcy and Rock seemed so normal. She wondered whether Rock was also an "entertainer." He probably was. There must be hundreds of women who wanted him, and not for his cooking. He was one sexy man.

"Linc Frawley."

"Pardon?"

"Linc Frawley. It's really Washington Lincoln Truman Frawley. His mother was a history teacher and she got a bit carried away with names when he was born, I guess. Needless to say he hates the long version, so he goes by Linc. He'd be perfect for your party. He's an imposing presence but he dresses up well, too. He could be your bartender and bouncer. I think he even rents a room somewhere in Westchester. You're near the Clintons, right?"

"I don't think they'd like the connection, but yes, they live within several miles of me." Linc. She pictured a hulking black man, maybe with dreadlocks. Phew.
Stop the stereotyping, Pant, she warned herself Most of the ones you used to have have already been exploded
.

Rock's chopping was rhythmic and efficient and he continued to work as he talked. "Linc's trying to become an actor. I think half of New York is, too, but he might just have a chance despite his maturity. He's in his early thirties and right now he's working for a temp agency to keep himself in groceries. He also does some work with us from time to time. That doesn't bother you, does it?"

Another male prostitute. Until recently she'd never even thought that they existed. "Of course not." Well, not too much.

Marcy walked into the kitchen and Rock said, "Linc Frawley. He'd be perfect."

"Definitely. I should have thought of him immediately," Marcy said, brightening. "You're right. He'd be great. Let's just hope he's available. Give him a call and see whether he can join us for dinner. He can meet Pam and we can see what his schedule is."

Rock dried his hands on a towel and grabbed his cell phone from its clip on his belt. "You ladies go tour the joint. Is Zack coming tonight?"

"Sure is. He'd have to be a real jerk to turn down your osso buco. He'll stop and pick up the kids from the sitter." She took Pam's arm. "Rock has obviously shown you the backyard. Isn't it the best?" She beamed with pride when Pam raved about the courtyard. "Okay, come on and let me show you around the rest of the place."

As they climbed to the second-floor hallway, Pam said, "Rock seems nice."

"Okay, I know you must be curious about him. Let me give you the rundown. I've no idea exactly how old he is because he hasn't changed in the five years I've known him. He lives in a two-room suite on the first floor. Over his objections we broke through a wall a few years ago to make his living quarters bigger and more luxurious. My sister Jenna met him when she and her friend Chloe started Club Fantasy. Their mentor, a woman named Erika, introduced them, insisting that we couldn't leave this building and the business inside unprotected. Rock's got family on the West Coast, but he's a very closed-mouthed person so I don't know much more."

"Interesting guy."

"Just FYI, he's bisexual, leaning mostly to relationships with other guys, but to the best of my knowledge he's never lived with anyone nor had a serious, long-term relationship. I emphasize the 'to the best of my knowledge part' because as much of a friend as he is, he's super private."

"Tell me about the guy you're recommending for my party."

"Linc is just the opposite of Rock. He's outgoing, fun, totally open, and strictly heterosexual. He's attractive and very sensual and he attracts women like a dog does fleas. Take care you don't get burned."

"I've got as much as I can handle with the two men in my life right now."

"Three isn't many more than two, but take care with Linc. I would hate to see you hurt."

"Advice taken," Pam said.

For the next hour Marcy showed Pam around the interior of the brownstone. There were four rooms on the second floor devoted to fulfilling differing fantasies. A Western room catered to would-be sheriffs and damsels in distress and a doctor's office contained an exam table, cabinets, and one mirrored wall. Another room was arranged like a desert oasis, cleverly done with fake trees, sand on the floor, and one wall covered with burlap to simulate a tent wall. A brown awning was held up with thick wooden poles. "The better to tie you up, my dear," Marcy said with an exaggerated leer and a twirl of an imaginary mustache. "Seriously, the sand used to be a bitch to clean up, even with plastic sheeting beneath, so we decided to just leave this room this way. It's amazing how popular it is. Sometimes folks have a vague idea that they want a power fantasy and when I suggest this 'oasis' they jump at it."

They walked to the "all-purpose" room and settled on the bed. "This room can be rearranged for a number of common fantasies. The hooker entertaining a guest in a hotel room, a wedding night, a burglar breaking in and ravishing the occupant. It's seldom empty."

"I gather the place is closed Mondays and Tuesdays."

"At first Chloe and Jenna entertained every night, but it got to be too much. It was difficult at first to turn clients down, but once the place began to pay its way they decided on sleep rather than cash."

"I'd take the cash right now," Pam blurted out.

"Are things that difficult?" Marcy said, looking concerned.

"No, not really," Pam said. "I'm okay for the moment, but I have no idea about the future. I'll have to get a job eventually, for both money and something to do with my days. Right now I feel like a slug. I play bridge, attend committee meetings, and basically slide through life. I can't seem to focus on doing anything."

"Eventually it will be made known to you."

She sighed. "I know. I'm hoping my party business takes off."

"I'm sure Rob can help with that. I know the money is a great lure, but you don't have to have parties with my girls in attendance just to make a buck. If it makes you the slightest bit uncomfortable then it's not worth selling your soul. I need for both of us to be entirely sure this is okay."

Pam considered, then said, "It doesn't bother me nearly as much as I thought it would. Intellectually I still have a few doubts, but in my heart, I think it's kinky in the good sense. If some of the ladies are paid to be there, why should it matter to me?"

"What if they take over a bedroom?"

"What they do in private is no skin off my nose. Should it be?"

"Not at all. You'd be doing what I do—provide a location for fun and games."

"You make it sound so easy. Maybe I'm beginning to understand the morality issue, but it's illegal and I worry still worry about that."

"Jenna, Chloe, and I have ways to keep the officials at bay."

"Secrets?"

"Just the names of our clients is enough incentive to keep the powers that be at arm's length. Remember that government official who had to resign when his name turned up in that Washington madam's little black book? No one wants that kind of trouble."

"I guess not."

"I think most people, if they thought about it, would agree that what we do, although technically illegal, isn't all that bad. It's private, totally safe health-wise, and not one of my employees has ever done anything out of line. No drugs, no blackmail, no nothing." Marcy had obviously made this speech before, including to her, but the reassurance was necessary and Pam slowly relaxed. She really wanted to do this despite her reservations.

"That's quite a record."

"I work very hard to keep it that way."

Pam had been wondering something, so she finally asked the question she'd been wanting to ask. "You never worked here?"

Marcy's laugh was genuine. "Not ever. Not my thing. Jenna did for over a year before she married Glen, but not since. I've always been the organizer, so once I got comfortable with the situation here I took over the bookkeeping, scheduling, and doing the interviews, both with prospective clients and women wanting to work here. I'm very good at sizing up people very quickly and I haven't been burned yet." She stood and adjusted her jeans. "Enough of that. Let me show you the rest."

By the time Zack arrived at just after six with three children in tow and the family had been introduced to Pam, the house smelled even more fabulous and the aromas wafting from the kitchen made Pam's mouth water. The baby, Eliza, moved like lightning, so Zack quickly perched her lightly on his hip where she contentedly chewed on the end of his tie, at least for a moment, until she yelled a firm, "Down, Daddy." The twins were identical, and at first Pam was grateful that they were wearing totally different shirts with their bib-front denim shorts. Quite quickly, however, their differing personalities made it easy to tell them apart. William, older by more than a minute, was outgoing, talking a blue streak, asking questions about living in the country. "We visit my cousins upstate a lot," he said, "and I like it up there. Do you have a cow?"