It was not until her mid 20s did she began to truly appreciate the female figure. The men who hired her for her private investigation services were almost always wealthy and late in their lives. They would sit across from her in the brown leather chair of her office and tell tall tales of their wives dalliances. Being the high power and controlling men that were produced by this time, they were suspicious of every little thing their wives did without their explicit knowledge. They paid her handsomely to tail their lives and find out what it was that was keeping them from having dinner on the table at 6 on the dot each afternoon. She didn't complain, but she pitied the old men.
How could she not? The wives of these men were always younger. Ten to fifteen years separated the couples and there was no shock in finding out that the woman decided to search elsewhere for the comfort of a younger partner. With the loss of their husband's sex drive, so did their patience for their marriages held together by a lump sum of money with their names on it, in the case of their spouse's untimely death. After that burden disappeared, there was nothing keeping them from their young lovers who could keep going, all hours of the night.
They could have any man their desired and they knew it. Their bodies, young, curvaceous, and more tempting than an ice cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer's day made heads turn as they walked down the street. At formal functions, round, full breasts teased through low necklines. Heart shaped asses that made you want to reach out and touch, but Jane knew she couldn't. Sure, the world knew lesbians and gays existed, but that didn't mean they were willing to expect the new minority. If you weren't a Christian, white, male the world had a reason to discriminate against you.
But, what could you do? The small minority of homosexuals weren't going to bring change overnight on their own. They would need to support of millions to even scratch the steel armor the homophobia. The world couldn't handle blacks and women. It wouldn't be read to handle gays for a very long time. So, they casted themselves away to the darkest undergrounds the 1940s could offer where everyone was accepted, regardless of race, gender, and sexual orientation.
Just as she was packing to leave for the day, a man in his mid 30s stepped into her small office space. The pinstripe, tailored suit he wore screamed money and lots of it. He carried himself in a way that told you he thought he was better than everyone he passed on the street.
"How can I help you, sir?" Jane asked politely, controlling the annoyance in her voice as she watched him silently criticize her quarters.
"I am in need of your services, detective." He told her, taking a seat in the chair across from her desk before she had the chance to offer. She wasn't going to, but it was presumptions of him to assume she would.
"And by that you mean?"
"I believe my wife is having an affair and I'd like to know with whom, when, and where."
"What makes you think she's having an affair?"
"A man knows when his woman has gone astray. Trust me."
Yeah, like I'd do that, she thought sarcastically.
"What evidence do you have of this?"
"The usual things. I do not feel like explaining myself. Are you going to take the job? I can pay you well."
"I do not doubt that. I will take the job, but I'd like to know what will happen if I find evidence proving your claims true?"
"That is none of your concern."
"I'm not putting a fellow woman in danger imply because she has chosen to find pleasure elsewhere."
"I have no intention of physically punishing my wife, detective."
"I should hope so, Mr…."
"Fairfield. Garret Fairfield, the second."
Wow, Garret Fairfield, the second. You must make tons of friends in the sandbox, she mocked internally.
"And your wife is?"
"Maura. Maura Isles."