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“So, did Daddy like your new jewelry?” I asked.Mom blushed bright red, but she smiled and nodded. “I couldn’t believe it! It was like we were ...ack on our honeymoon; he was insatiable!”“Where’d you go for dinner?”Mom shrugged. “I don’t really know the name of the place. It was over on the other side of town, very dark and quiet. We didn’t run into anybody we knew, thank God!” I raised my eyebrows comically at this. “Well, Jesus, Amber, I just looked like a slut!”“That was the idea, Mom,” I said. I exited the serving line with little more than a salad, a very small dab of dressing, and a small blob of jello. At this rate I would be dead before the eight weeks were over. I did manage to get a couple of glasses of milk without any harassment, probably the girls were afraid I would get osteoporosis or something. Such as it was, lunch was satisfying. We finished in plenty of time, cleared our trays, and returned to the barracks. No one else eating there seemed to take any notice of. He pulled her into the secure area of married life and acceptable motherhood with a respected name on the birth certificate. She was certain he would never be a faithful husband but she doubted he would ever embarrass her in mixed society. In fact, she encouraged her maid Polly to afford the young banker with "in house" pussy to keep him away from the lure of strange stuff in darkened alleyways and houses of pleasure. Polly was more than agreeable to the scenario because Alfie was quite. Usually, I would come in to face one batter and then, bye-bye. A couple of times, when we were winning big or losing big, Paul would leave me in for an inning, or even two, but more typically, it was Slay the Left-Handed Monster-Hitter and then go back into my cage.Fortunately, far more often than not, I was getting it done. Paul Warren clearly trusted me to accomplish the limited task I was in there to do. The more frequently I was successful, the greater his trust in me would become.I was.
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