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“That’s what he said,” the girl replied, no doubt remembering whatever confrontation the two had had.
“What else did he say?”
“He kind of left the house yesterday morning saying that I’d have to talk to Mrs. Harold when she got back. That’s all really. I haven’t seen him since. He was out early this morning, didn’t come home until late last night.”
“He’s furious with you, Helena,” Jocelyn informed her of the obvious. “And he wants me to fire you.”
The young woman had tears puddling in her eyes, ready to spill down her cheeks. She looked so sweet and forlorn.
“It’s your green card, the immigration? You need to have the job, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m on your side,” she said kindly. “I’d like to you stay. But I’ll have to do some fast talking to get Mr. Harold to change his mind. And you’ll have to shape up now, no more stupid mistakes.”
“Oh, ma’am, if you could just forgive me this time.”
“I can forgive you very easily. It’s Mr. Harold you’re going to have to please.”
Jocelyn turned away from the maid and went to the living room, wondering why she was putting up with Helena’s blunders. She did have some compassion for the poor thing; but mostly, she enjoyed defying Reggie on this one. Perverse at it was it roused her to no end. Then, too, there was also that unmistakable rush of desire that surged through her thinking of sharing Helena’s bed for the night.
***
Reggie didn’t say a word on entering the house. He did stand at the doorway of the living room, looking into the darkness at his wife sitting passively on the sofa. Her head was resting on the back as if she was dozing.
“Is she gone?” he asked, waking Jocelyn from whatever state of mind she was in.
“No.”
Reggie shook his head. “You’re really going to challenge me on this?”
“I told you I wouldn’t fire her. I did talk to her. She told me about the mishaps you’ve had; though I didn’t think they were that serious. She was trying hard to please you. I could see that.” Jocelyn talked sweetly hoping he’d see the situation her way.
“Dammit, Jocelyn. I ask for one thing and you’re going to make a ridiculous example of it. Why?”
“Because I think you’re wrong.”
“And I think you’re out of line. I’ll fire her myself.” He took off toward Helena’s room.
“No you won’t!” She charged up from the chair and grabbed his arm.
“Jocelyn!” he snapped, turning back to her with a scowl.
“You make people tense,” she said gently. “How many times have you said that yourself?”
“Well, then we’ll hire someone that can stand to be in my presence.”
“Oh, stop!”
“You want me to blister your butt for her crimes?”
“If that’s what it takes,” she answered defiantly.
“Well then, by all means. I’d be very happy to.”
Reggie pulled his wife with him to the library, his secret place, his private haven, into the darkest room in the house, where all the nastiest scenes he could devise took place. She struggled with him, fruitless effort that it was. And he wasted no time retrieving his favorite leather piece from the closet. Pushing Jocelyn against the back of a leather chair, he pulled up her skirt, held her at his waist, and with the foot long paddle began to smack her exposed behind with all the fury that was raging through him.
“Ouch! Goddammit!” Jocelyn roared, again a fruitless waste of energy to protest. Reggie never backed off from a punishment.
