Phil Chambers sat behind the wheel of his car waiting for his wife, Sue, to come out of her office. The couple had arranged to meet here and then go in to town for a special meal. Tonight was the fifth anniversary of the day they had met at a Save the Environment demonstration. They were both studying at University at the time and were married before they graduated.
Phil saw from his window when Sue stepped out of the front door of her office building. He could see from her face that she was worried about something and he guessed that it had something to do with her job. Phil's father was a policeman and when he heard that his daughter-in-law was training to be a Parole officer he laughed his head off.
"Jesus. Sue? Oh my God. The ex-cons will eat her alive. She's about the most naΓ―ve woman I ever met."
"Yes, Dad, I suppose you're right," Phil had said.
"You ain't much better, but at least you're working with kids. That's about your level. Sue's too."
Phil hadn't liked his father's comments but he did agree that Sue wasn't cut out for this kind of work. Since she had begun six months ago, she seemed different somehow. Phil put it down to the stresses of her job and tried to encourage her to go into social work, like he did. Sue had told him that her work was very important to her, the most important thing in her life, and if he really loved her then he would never tell her to quit.
Sue opened the passenger side door and stepped into the car, kissing her husband on the cheek as she sat down beside him. She gave him a furtive glance then asked if he could do her a favour. Could they make a stop on the way? She needed to make a quick visit to one of her clients.
"Why do you need to make a home visit? I thought you were only dealing with people at the office for now."
"Yes, I am, but this guy, he's missed so many appointments. I have to make a report on him tomorrow and if I say he hasn't been turning up he'll be in violation of his parole."
"So? That's his fault, not yours."
"Yes, but it looks bad on my record. It's not the first time this has happened. Anyway, I don't want it on my conscience if he has to go back to prison, just because I didn't chase him up."
"What did he do anyway?"
"You know I can't tell you that. Suffice it to say that if he was a white man, he'd never have been sent down anyway, you know what I mean?"
"Sure," Phil said. He knew his wife had a thing about black men, about the injustices meted out to ethnic minorities. "I still don't think..."
"Oh please Phil. It won't take long. His house is on the way to the restaurant anyway."
Eventually he agreed and Sue gave him directions to the house. On the way there she began to feel a little apprehensive about the whole situation. She was still a trainee and hadn't yet made a home visit to any of her clients. She knew that you were supposed to be fully trained and accompanied by an experienced parole officer beforehand. She was also nervous because of the ex-convict she was about to see.
The first time Waylan Jackson had come in to her office was a week after his release. He looked her up and down, making grunting noises of approval. Eventually his eyes focussed on her large, firm tits and stayed there for the rest of the interview. When Sue came round from her desk to shake his hand and show him out, Jackson reached his own hand out and gently squeezed her on the left breast. Sue was too shocked by this to do or say anything, her silence registering consent in Jackson's mind. He reached up his other hand and felt both her tits, pressing hard on them as he looked down the front of her blouse at her billowing cleavage. He then leaned forward and was about to kiss her on the lips when the telephone rang, pulling Sue out of her trance. She pushed Jackson away and opened the door for him to leave.
On the next visit Jackson immediately apologised for his previous behaviour. He told her that she was the first white woman he had spoken to since his release from prison and that he couldn't stop himself touching her because she looked so damn good in her low cut blouse and short skirt and with that sexy body of hers. Nevertheless, he continued staring at her body throughout the interview and he gave her ass a pinch as she showed him out the door. When he left, Sue began thinking that she had perhaps been sending out the wrong signals, and that she ought to dress more conservatively. She couldn't help the firm, voluptuousness of her body but she could make it less obvious.
Jackson hadn't been the first ex-convict to step over the line and make inappropriate contact with her body. Two others had brushed their hands over her chest when she stepped past them while another had pressed himself against her ass while she was bent over her desk, checking his file. Sue had felt the man's erection and wondered for a moment if he was going to lift up her skirt and rape her, right in her office. Nothing happened that time but ever since then she had had a series of disturbing dreams wherein her clients, all black ex-convicts, were screwing her on her desk. What was most disturbing for her was that in the dream she always enjoyed herself immensely, having orgasm after orgasm.
It wasn't long before they reached Jackson's house. Phil parked the car outside and asked Sue if she wanted him to accompany her. She told him to stay where he was, that she would only be a few minutes. Then she kissed him, opened the passenger door and walked up the path to the house. Phil watched her approach. It was a dilapidated two up, two down with its windows broken and boarded up on the first floor. Phil saw the front door open, revealing a tall, muscular black man. The man smiled broadly at Sue and invited her in to the house. Phil noticed a gang of black teenagers staring at him and his car and hoped that Sue would hurry up so they could get the hell out of this Godforsaken area.
When Jackson saw his parole officer at the door he couldn't believe his luck. He had spent the week out of town, setting up a heist on a truck delivering cigarettes. The job had gone off perfectly, setting him up a stake so he could get back into his usual business of drug dealing. He had returned home this afternoon and was kicking back, smoking dope with his partner, Laurence. He knew he was in violation of his parole but he had the feeling that this woman would let him get away with anything. Jackson had been in and out of correctional facilities all his life and had met many parole officers. They always came in two categories: the officious ones who got off on the little power they had and acted worse than the prison guards, and then the do-gooder social worker types who treated you as the victim of society. Jackson hated both equally but at least with the latter he had some freedom of movement.
Jackson smiled at Sue and invited her inside the house. She was definitely a do-gooder. Hell, she had even let him have a good feel of her tits and ass. Maybe that was what she was here for now. Jackson knew a horny white bitch when he saw one. He had started his life of crime in the pimping game and always found it easier to turn white girls into whores. As long as he gave them a taste of his big black dick every now and then, they would do anything for him.
Jackson patted her on the ass as he opened the door to the front room and showed her in. Laurence looked up from the sofa when he saw the white woman step into the room. She had long blonde hair, just the way he liked it. Nice rack too, he thought, wondering if his partner had hired a whore for the night.