Chapter 9

Jean had awakened to find herself naked and somewhat nauseated in her own bed. Her clothing lay over a chair and late afternoon daylight streamed through the window of their room. Almost immediately, a flood of horrifying thoughts overwhelmed her sickened mind... ugly and sordid, unsure memories of an obscene orgy that involved Max Keele, but she refused to acknowledge them as any more than evil dreams!

She must have been ill and came to bed... yet, to strip and lie there nude... ? That was never like her... and she couldn't remember doing such a thing! Only the vivid and salacious visions of herself lying beneath the Director of Correction, completely naked and giving herself to him in wanton delight filled her brain! Dear God, it couldn't be true! She would never... ! Yet, there was a tremendous relaxation prevalent in her loins, a sensation of fulfillment she couldn't ever remember having experienced before... and the wild moment of ecstasy she had experienced raced into her mind to be relived!

Abruptly, Jean sat up to look down between her spread thighs at herself! With hesitant hand, she touched the sore, hair-lined lips between her legs, gradually exploring with delicate fingers its swollen, sensitive inner-flesh and feeling the thick, viscid moisture still trickling slowly from her vagina.

My God! It was true! The horrible, wicked scene had actually taken place! She hadn't dreamed it; she had given herself like an adulterous whore instead! Oh God... oh God... she moaned inwardly, remembering suddenly the tape she had witnessed of Ken and Mrs. Keele! What lewd and forbidden emotions had overtaken and persuaded both of them to be unfaithful?

In all truth, she still didn't blame her husband. He had undoubtedly been coerced... but in her own case, she'd thrown away all conception of right and wrong! She might have fought him more diligently, threatened to expose him to the authorities... ! But she'd succumbed because deep inside her she had wanted to... and there was no denying that awful truth!

God, she had never realized such debasement and shame could exist; she should fall on her knees before Ken and confess everything! But to do that would be to do nothing more than to torment his own agonized conscience! No... ! To hide it... bury it within herself... smother its lewd, ugly head forever, was the only answer!

She would pretend and say nothing regarding either of them, she decided, quickly scurrying from the bed and hustling toward the shower to wash Max Keele's lewdly puddling sperm from up inside her vagina. Soon, it would be all over with, once Chief Lannigan carried through with his end, and she could leave it all behind them... her obscene nightmare one that had happened only in her subconscious... !

Maggie Keele walked around the luxurious suite of their bedroom quarters completely naked, with Kappy following close behind. She carried a martini-rocks in her hand and wore her more softened, alluring smile. Dropping onto the fur-upholstered bench of her vanity, she turned to look at her dressing husband. She said:

"You still haven't told me what happened yesterday afternoon, Max."

He grinned. "I don't remember getting a detailed report of you and Wilson either."

"Well, at least you saw the tape. Was it good?"

"Quite in keeping with your usual seductions, Baby," he replied, knowing her dissatisfaction with his avoidance in telling her the intricacies of Jean Wilson's and his own party, in actuality, still trying to comprehend it himself. Christ, he'd had girls... women... bitches! But that little broad had really turned him on, and just maybe his promiscuous, ambitious wife was wise to the fact... at least, suspected it. Besides that, he surmised that Maggie disliked her naturally. Maybe it was because of the kid's beauty... or youth... or the fact that her young husband still obviously loved her... whatever, the raven-haired enchantress went evil-eyed when she spoke of her.

"Was she good?" Maggie questioned, trying at nonchalance as she stared into the mirror.

"Yeah... good! Damn good once I'd implanted in her head the name of the game."

"In her head... ?"

Max chuckled, choosing a tie from the rack and wrapping it around his neck. "That was yesterday, baby," he said, not looking at her. "Tonight's the Spaxtons... remember? Let's not irk ourselves."

"Who's irked?" Maggie lied. "You ever know me to blow a scene, husband?"

Again, he chuckled. "You take care of the necessities?" he questioned, using brushes to sleek his graying hair.

"All of them... believe me," she answered, suddenly enjoying the erotic sight of her own nakedness as she toyed with her makeup, remembering the special LSD she'd filled the Wilson's sugar-bowl with and sensing a perverted twinge of excitement at a sudden licentious inspiration.

"How many girls are here from the home?" Max inquired, slipping on his suit jacket.

"Two... Sandy Jarvis and Carla Montez... I thought Carla might add a special something. She's older... eighteen, but she was a pro."

"They're wearing maid uniforms, too?"

"Naturally, Darling," Maggie replied, smiling. "We wouldn't want to give our noted guests a wrong impression, would we?"

Max grinned. "Okay, I think I'll go down and start meeting those so-called guests. They should be arriving by now." He started for the door.

"Oh Daddy, have Jean Wilson come up here will you?" Maggie requested casually. "I'd like to have her help me dress."

Max paused at the door, taking a sidelong glance at his beautiful wife in her enticing, ivory-nakedness, her firm, pointed, ruby-rippled breasts reflected to him in the vanity mirror. He felt his heavy member stir at the provocative sight while he grinned again, knowingly. "Okay," he said, "I'll tell her... only don't be too long, Baby, eh?"

It was anger more than guilt that had churned continuously inside Ken Wilson since his infidelity with Mrs. Keele, not that he hadn't felt a good measure of remorse at his spineless betrayal of his marriage vows, but the fact that the raven-haired woman had treated him as less than a serf ever since had made him realize the absolute duplicity of the evil lecheress.

In his transgressive wretchedness he had unwittingly punished Jean in the chastisement of himself, saying little, acting sullen, and above all, avoiding any physical contact that might lead to actual lovemaking. Damn, he wasn't worthy of her devoted, innocent love, and until he could get his head straight... muster up the courage to confess the whole lurid story to her, he wasn't about to degrade her further with sex.

What surprised him most though was her apparent acceptance of his evasive reactions in bed to her inviting little caresses, lying there and asking no questions, almost as if she understood the anguish gnawing at him... and he wasn't sure whether he liked that either.

He stood in the kitchen gaping down at the short white jacket Mrs. Keele insist that he wear for the occasion. Christ, tonight he was a butler... a trigging slave is what he was... gardener, chauffeur, stud, butler... name any menial thing and that's where he fit in! Well, he'd been schooled for it, hadn't he... the revolutionary, the dropout... the nothing? Once a slob, always a slob... only why in hell had he dragged his beautiful Jeannie down to his level... ?

"Oh, you look so handsome, Darling!" she praised, the kitchen door swinging behind her entrance, her angelic face caught in a tight, seemingly forced smile.

"I look like what I am... a damned fool!" Ken replied bitterly, his homely handsome face drawn in his self-chagrin. He walked around, putting the work-table between them so that she wouldn't make her usual advance for a kiss. "Someway... somehow... I've got to get us out of here, Jean... before it's too late for both of us, and don't ask me any questions... In time, I'll explain... but not now."

Jean merely stared at him, her wide green eyes filling with compassion, her mind ever-conscious of her own shame, knowing the full extent of his meaning and the burden of adultery he was carrying, for God knows, wasn't she suffering the same inner-agony... and perhaps even greater than his? But after tonight it would be over with... she felt confident of that! Chief Lannigan had undoubtedly learned of this party, and with what she had told the official regarding the Keeles' sordid carryings-on with their illegal TV cameras and whatnot, he would undoubtedly act in an effort to catch them red-handed. Once that frightening scene was passed, they would surely be exonerated for the helpful part they'd played... then, they could penitently and lovingly confess to each other... It would be all right... she knew it would... they loved each other too much not to forgive and forget...

"Well," he interrupted her thoughts, "I suppose I should get upstairs to their cozy little rumpus room. I'm supposed to handle the bar. Are the guests arriving?"

"Yes. The girls, Sandy and Carla from the Home, are meeting them," Jean answered. "H-Have you ever heard of the... the Spaxtons, Ken... ?"