Chapter 3

There was something about Mrs. Keele deciding to use Ken as a chauffeur that hadn't set at all well with Jean Wilson, but there was little she or her young husband could do about it, she realized. Mr. Keele had brought the uniform down to the kitchen while Jean was preparing the beautiful Superintendent's breakfast, ordering Ken, who sat at the table having his coffee, to get into it, that his wife intended to use him in that, as well as other capacities.

It was the way he had said it, in an almost lewd tone of voice, that had upset Jean, but she hadn't let on to Ken who was angry enough in his own right at what he insisted was the "undressing" way the Director of Correction had looked at her. Of course, she had noticed and felt the big man's flinty eyes raking over her, but for some reason the act hadn't bothered her too much. Most girls were used to the lecherous glances of older men, passing them off as harmless gestures of wishful thinking; besides, Max Keele had a position to maintain and she doubted that he was about to gamble with that but his severely striking wife, she was another story!

All the same, Jean knew there was nothing she could do about it and decided to keep her uneasy feelings to herself, secretly watching out the window to see her husband drive off in one of the limousines with Mrs. Keele and her dog, Kappy, sitting regally in the back seat.

A morbid feeling of aloneness crept over her at that moment and she turned from the window with tiny tears puddling into her wide green eyes. Lord, it seemed that all she'd done the past two days was cloud up and cry, but she just couldn't seem to help herself; it was all so miserably unfair. If they'd actually committed some criminal offense... !

Perhaps if she went to Chief Lannigan and pleaded with him... made him realize that they knew nothing about the marijuana Nick had on him... ? The robust police official had seemed so kind and understanding, actually such a jovial man... and she'd been certain he intended to let them go before Mr. Keele arrived... Then, what had happened and why? Could it be that this was the way the Keeles acquired free domestic help to serve them and maintain this elaborate home? But that was ridiculous with all the girls they had in the Detension Home not five hundred yards away...

Oh, it was all too confusing... too terribly, terribly confusing, and her head was beginning to pound in frustration. She had to get a hold of herself and gear her mind to the grim idea that three months more of the same lay before them. Perhaps this was already going to be the test of their love and marriage... their frowned upon marriage that her parents had forbidden and she had willfully ignored. There was no turning back... no Daddy to call upon for help this time... only the handsome-homely boy whom she loved so much... and together they would work it out! Yes! They would; she felt confident of it, but she must do her part too... and at the moment, her end was the cleaning and straightening up of the house according to the list of printed instructions Mrs. Keele had given her.

Jean found a Kleenex in her tiny uniform apron pocket and used it, then raised her firm little chin courageously in determination. She would think no more of the gloomy or upsetting aspects of their situation... but only of the brighter side, such as the fact that at least she was with her lover-husband, and that they could be alone together at night to make beautiful love... and perhaps that very night to come it would happen... that moment of splendor she had almost reached not so many hours before... !

Max Keele was more than pleased with his new secretary, Carol Heath, not only in her capable efficiency, but the twenty-two- year-old strawberry blonde possessed a face and body worthy of constant admiration, her shapely, miniskirts] thighs and calves doing much to brighten up his ancient somber office. Her husband, Jack, had been a needed addition to his staff, also, but not exactly for the same reasons. He'd needed another competent parole officer and the twenty-six-year-old man, like his luscious wife, had come to him with impressive credentials from their last positions in the state capital.

Of course, it was going to take a little feeling out before he made any suggestive passes at the luscious doll, Max thought, sitting behind his huge desk in the executive swivel chair and watching her through his opened doorway as she typed with skillful, rapid fingers. But for some reason that he hadn't totally fathomed yet, he'd formed the opinion that she was not only a delectable, curvaceous doll with breathtaking, bountiful tits, but that she was ambitious for both herself and her husband to get ahead, and would be willing to pay the going price to achieve those ends.

Characteristically, Max's lecherous grin crept over his big handsome face. He was thinking that he already knew the price, in fact, had discussed it and her good-looking husband that very morning in bed with Maggie, immediately piquing his enchantress wife's prurient interest. He chuckled to himself as he thought of that and how Maggie intended to drop by the office that morning to have a look-see. Actually, he'd been holding the Heath's back, both until he was more certain of his convictions, and until they'd had their fill of the tender morsels decorating their servants' quarters.