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…?"
"Spaxtons…? No. What are they?"
"I-I'm not sure, but they… Sandy and Carla, were trying to tell me something about them," Jean said, her pretty brow wrinkling in perplexity. "They couldn't say much with the people coming in, but that is what this party is supposed to be… a meeting of the Spaxtons."
Ken shrugged, moving around the table toward the door and Jean stepped in front of him, raising her lips to be kissed. He did, but reservedly, then stepped back with a shake of his head, almost as if he were trying to clear his mind.
"Cripes," he said, blinking his eyes. "I suddenly feel as if I'd had a half-dozen drinks myself… kind of lightheaded and woozy…"
"You're not going to be ill…?" she questioned, anxiously.
"No… no. I'm all right… and I better be getting up there before the queen sends for me," he answered, smiling pinchedly. "I'll see you later, baby…"
Alone, Jean pressed her hand to her own forehead, wondering perhaps if she, too, might not be coming down with something? For the past fifteen minutes she'd been experiencing a mounting of giddy sensations… an almost euphoric sense of floating, but she'd stubbornly refused to give in to it. There was too much at stake, and she wanted to be on her feet when Chief Lannigan made his appearance.
Lord, she hadn't told Ken everything that Sandy and Carla had been able to whisper to her… nor their seemingly lightheaded and… and yes, even excited exclamations: "Oh, doll, you haven't seen anything yet!" Sandy, the attractive red-head had tittered. "The Spaxtons is a swinging sex-club for top-drawer big-shots and their ugly wives… But don't worry, you will… and I'll bet my hot bottom that you'll never forget it…!"
Again, Jean's train of thoughts were scrambled, as the door swung inward and Max Keele entered the kitchen, an arrogant smile broadening his handsome face.
"So, here you are. I been looking for you, baby," he said, his massiveness crowding in on her. "Mrs. Keele wants you upstairs to help her dress…"
Jean sensed her own sharp intake of breath at his overwhelming closeness, and with an agile movement she tried to ease around him, but he caught her by the upper arm and drew her back, his powerful arms encircling her waist, his big hands immediately clasping the lush spheres of her buttocks possessively.
"Stop…! Stop it!" she spat, struggling in apprehensive rage against him.
Max chuckled lewdly. "What's the matter, Jean, baby? Don't like Daddy anymore? Maybe you need some more of his soothing cock rammed into that hot little pussy of yours, eh? Come on now, give me a kiss…"
Jean could hardly think of anything at that moment except her vehement hatred for this evil beast who had already once subjected her to the horrors of debasement and shame, and in her bitter anger she fought him desperately, suddenly drawing up one knee with sharp force to catch him flush in the groin.
Max Keele grunted out an obscene oath, his eyes widening in pain as he let free of her and staggered backwards to grab at his crotch, while Jean, seeing her advantage, charged through the swinging doorway toward the stairs and Mrs. Keele's room, a feeling of exultation racing through her in the knowing that she had hurt him painfully.
Her head swam by the time she reached the beautiful superintendent's door, reeled buoyantly as if she had glided up the stairway to where she stood, and almost immediately Max Keele was forgotten… or even why she was there… but she tapped against the panel and opened it at the woman's bidding.
Once inside the luxuriously appointed bedroom, Jean stopped short, a little gasp emitting from her when she saw the ravishing, statuesque creature sitting before her vanity in the ivory splendor of her stark nakedness, the huge German shepherd, Kappy, lying on the floor beside her. From where she stood, Jean could see her full, thrusting, ruby-rippled breasts reflected in the mirror, her suggestive half-smile, and the dancing lights in her sparkling dark eyes…
"Well, come on, my dear… don't just stand there," Maggie said throatily, wild little sensations of expectancy beginning to tingle through her loins and belly at her inspired intentions. She turned on the fur-covered bench, completely facing the approaching, reluctant girl, noting the near-vacant expression in her pretty eyes that indicated the effects of the acid she had unwittingly consumed, and as well, perceiving the teenaged lovely's fixed point of view on her naked loins. Slowly, she stood, her lecherous senile broadening slightly. "Why the hesitation, Jean, darling…?" she hissed. "Haven't you ever seen a naked female before?"
"I… I… yes, of course… it's just that I-I wasn't expecting it…" Jean stammered, still astonished at what seemed to her to be an apparition of Goddess-like beauty in her bewildering euphoria. "You… you're very beautiful…" she heard herself say, surprised when she realized that the words had come from her own lips.
An unanticipated sensation of delight rippled through Maggie at the younger girl's compliment, and she moved closer to her, placing her hands on Jean's upper arms. "Thank you, darling," she partially whispered, "and I'd wager that you are just as beautiful without your clothes… aren't you?"
Whether it was the delicate, warm touch of the vision's hands, the alluring fragrance of her enclosing naked curvaciousness, or the suggestiveness of her sibilant question, Jean wasn't certain in her drug-confused mind, but undefinable tiny fermentations had suddenly burst into being inside her. The apparition seemed to envelope her and she sensed the slender hands on her breasts, causing an ensemble of mixed emotions to flutter within her mind and body. She felt as if mesmerized in a state of delicious intoxication as the exquisite face moved closer to hers and its mouth closed down upon her own, tenderly, moistly, hotly… and with increasing urgency.
Jean's own mouth felt strangely soft in response, and she sensed her lips being pressed apart by the vision's sweet-tasting tongue, slipping between them into her mouth as the statuesque body came hard against her own, its naked stomach and soft loins beginning an intimate undulating motion.
"You are a lovely girl, Jean, darling," the throaty voice hissed hotly into her mouth. "And now I'm going to make you deliciously happy… would you like that?"
"I-I… oohhh… I don't know…" Jean gasped, slipping even more into the veil of her dream-world.
Maggie kissed her again and Jean subconsciously met her tongue with her own as she felt the gentle hands caressing her breasts and moving over her body eagerly, finally stroking her buttocks and drawing her tightly against the naked, satiny loveliness.
"I'm going to undress you now, darling," the smoky voice breathed and Jean gasped out with wrinkled brow as expert fingers began to move entrancingly over her, quickly removing her clothing.
A sensation of repugnance flittered through her, yet she couldn't seem to respond to it. Something horribly fascinating… strangely forbidden and terribly confusing was happening to her…! And then she was naked, the cool air bathing her sensuous flesh, bringing her nipples to rigid hardness as the apparition pressed close to her, massaging its ivory nakedness against Jean's supple body… their nipples touching, their breasts flattening against one another's, their thighs meeting as did the soft, silken thatches of black and golden pubic curls between their legs.
Jean gasped with the erotic tremor that rippled over her and through her struggling, dazed mind, as the woman's lecherously moving hands caressed her buttocks, spreading them open to tenderly slip between and stroke her tight little anus lewdly. Again, Jean trembled, suddenly feeling Mrs. Keele once more grasping her waist, then her smooth hands slithering down her rounded hips to her tingling, full thighs as she dropped to her knees before her and began kissing the sensitive warm flesh of her inner thighs, working slowly upward toward the sparsely curled lips of her strangely tingling pussy!
My God! My God…! It struck Jean like a bolt of lightning what was happening to her and who the evil vision kneeling between her spread legs was! She gasped out in shame, abruptly twisting free of the lecherous woman's obscene grasp.
"What do you think you're doing?" Maggie shot up at the reeling blonde girl, her eyes suddenly blazing with denied rage. "Come here, you little bitch…!"
But Jean wasn't about to. For one brief and horrible moment, reality had penetrated her befogged mind, and now, as she saw the great dog bolt alertly to his feet, she wheeled and ran for the door, ignoring Maggie's screaming commands for her to stop, jerking the barrier open and racing in naked panic down the hall toward the stairway… and thank God, just in time…!
Chief Lannigan was climbing the stairs toward her…!