Chapter 6

It was late in the afternoon when Judy left Ann's place. Bert Karnstein was so washed out Judy knew there was no way he would be able to hurt Ann, and Ann had enjoyed enough pleasure from Bert so that she had agreed to let him move in with her

The trouble was, watching all that action--and not participating--had made Judy tremendously aroused. Unfortunately she had made no arrangements for the upcoming evening because of her job, and so she thought she would end up alone.

Her drive home took her through the Golden Gate area, and she knew Al Bombannente lived somewhere nearby. It was from listening through a small hole in the wall that separated their offices that Judy had learned about Al's unorthodox methods when it came to parolees, and because of his success, she had tried it herself, though using women like Ann Mason rather than giving herself to the ex-cons. She wondered if Al was busy that evening.

Her car seemed to guide itself through the streets and suddenly it was parking in front of the apartment house where she knew Al lived. It was a nice neighborhood, very quiet, which for San Francisco was a rarity since most of the city was almost always in some kind of turmoil or other.

Getting out of the car, she felt the cold wind from the nearby ocean whipping her coat, cutting through her, making her entire body shudder. Entering the apartment building, she looked at the mail boxes and discovered Al lived on the fourth floor. That seemed to be the perfect floor to live on in a high-rise like this one. There were no fire escapes outside his window, though there was one at the end of the hall, and he was too high for robbers to reach him from the ground, while too low for them to come down from the roof.

Finding Al's apartment, Judy pushed the door buzzer and waited. Less than a minute later, Al Bombannente opened the door and smiled at her, saying, Yes?"

He was wearing dark slacks, a white long-sleeved shirt open at the collar, no shoes, and he had a bourbon in his hand.

"Is that the way you greet all visitors?" she asked.

"Only those with whom I'm very familiar," he replied. "Come on in, Judy. Tell me, what brings you to this neighborhood, especially at this time of the day?"

"I'm lonely," she replied. "I just finished working with two parolees."

"On Saturday?"

"Well, it's not the kind of treatment the state would exactly smile on, if you get my meaning."

"Suppose you explain," he said, leading her into his large living room, a place too tastefully decorated for him to have done it by himself. Either he had paid an interior decorator, or he'd had a lady friend come in and do it. Judy later learned he had rented the apartment furnished, and this was the way the former tenant had done it before passing away.

"Al, our offices are separated by a thin wall, and there's a slight crack in the wall that lets me hear everything that goes on in your office. When I say everything, I mean everything. Since you've been so successful with parolees, I've taken to imitating you, but with a difference. Instead of using my own body, I usually mate a male and female parolee in desperate need of one another. That's what I did today."

"You're taking a big chance," he said to her. "If one of them tells on you, you'll not only be fired, but possibly prosecuted."

"Don't be silly," Judy said to him. "I'm not nearly as personally involved as you are. Even if a dissatisfied parolee complains, they'll never be able to prove anything against me. You, on the other hand, might literally get caught with your pants down."

"You know better than that," Al said to her. "Can I get you a drink?"

"That might be a good idea," Judy nodded. "By the way, am I intruding? If you have plans for tonight..."

"No," he told her. "I was thinking of taking in a movie, though to be truthful I haven't been to the movies in more than fifteen years. Hell, with all the golden oldies on TV, who wants to see the junk they show in the theaters today, and pay four bucks a throw? Hell, not me."

"Especially on the kind of money we earn, Judy nodded.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing by herself on a Saturday evening?" Al asked, handing her a bourbon and water.

"I knew I would be busy today, and didn't know what time I'd be through," she told him, "so I didn't make any dates for tonight. Besides, I really wasn't in the mood to go out and go through the courtship rigmarole with some guy I don't particularly care for. I knew I'd be aroused as hell after watching what went on between those two..."

"You actually stayed and watched them?"

"Of course! Did you think I would turn him loose on her without some kind of supervision?"

"Well I take it as a compliment that you came here for my company after you finished your observing, or is it that you merely wish to commiserate with a fellow worker?"

"Don't be cute," Judy said, standing. "Look, I'm not in the mood for bourbon. I know this sounds ridiculous, but do you have any chocolate mix around? I'm in the mood for hot chocolate. Not coffee, hot chocolate."

"In the kitchen," he nodded, pointing to the little kitchenette which was really part of the living room.

Judy walked into the little kitchen area and went to the cabinet Al pointed out to her, and she took out a can of cocoa mix. She found milk in the refrigerator, and she put some into a pan and opened the can. With a spoon she dished out some of the powder, but in doing so she spilled some on the floor.

"Sorry," she said, and wetting a paper towel, she bent, with her back to Al, and began washing up the chocolate.

He wondered whether she had spilled the powder on purpose. The way she was bending caused her dress to ride up much higher than it should, and as a result he was able to see the bottom of the cheeks of her white, round ass, covered with the barest pink bikini panties.

"Come on, let me help," he said to her, and moving over to her, he squatted facing her. She knelt now, supporting herself with one hand while she finished washing up the powdered chocolate with the other hand. Her dress, while not exactly scoop-necked, was loose at the top, and with Al kneeling in the position he was in, directly above Judy, he was able to peer down and see the fullness of her brassiere-encased breasts. They weren't large, but they were nice and round, and the way they pushed her dress out made them look like a pair of artillery shells in a sling. Two nubby nipples pressed into the fabric and pushed at her dress, as well.

Judy looked up to catch Al looking down her dress. Instead of blushing and turning away, she remained where she was, and Al, not the least bit fazed, continued looking a little longer, enjoying the sight. Then he met her eyes and gulped a little, yet didn't look the least bit embarrassed. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"I guess we're beyond the blushing stage," she said to him.

"I guess," he nodded. "Did you get all the chocolate?"

"Uh huh!" she nodded, standing. "I always wondered if men ever reached the stage where they stopped looking down a woman's dress when given the opportunity. Now I know."

"Hell, you were offering them to my eyes on the proverbial silver platter. What was I supposed to do, look away like a gentleman? You have one nice pair of tits there, lady."

"I'm glad you finally noticed," Judy smiled, throwing the paper towel in the garbage and heating up the chocolate-flavored milk. You were always so wrapped up in screwing those female parolees I often wondered if you scored with any other women."

"I used to and I suppose I'd still be able to if I really wanted to," he admitted. "But I find this a lot easier. The girls do what I want, when I want it, and believe it or not, they're all better human beings because of it. It's nice to know I'm doing a service for humanity by simply screwing."

"Haven't you ever had the desire for one permanent woman?"

"I've never found a permanent woman who was willing to meet my..."

"Standards?"

"No, conditions. You see, even if I did marry, the woman would have to understand my job, and she would have to understand that I wouldn't change my methods of, shall we say, rehabilitation."

"Well suppose your wife was in the same business. Would you allow her to do the same thing?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "You see, I'm still old- fashioned enough to believe in the double standard."

"Why?" Judy asked, turning off the stove and pouring the cocoa into two cups.

"Well a man is external, whereas a woman is internal. So no matter how many times a man dips his wick, he can still take it out, wash it off, and unless he's contracted some kind of venereal disease, be in excellent shape for the woman he loves. With a woman, she can't, in essence, see the part of herself she's cleaning after she's finished with a man. So there's always the possibility of... uhhhh... there being something of the man left over inside her. I don't think I'd like going into a woman whose vagina might still contain the residue of another man."

"You're really not being fair to the woman."

"I suppose not," he admitted. "Which is the reason why I've never married. This way I don't have to make excuses."

"You're a damn chauvinist," Judy said, sipping her chocolate.

"Yeah," Al nodded, putting his cup down on the small kitchenette table. He looked at her for a long, long time, waiting for her to finish drinking her cocoa, and then he stared into eyes which were staring right back at him. "I have to admit," he told her. "You're one of the goddamned sexiest women I've ever seen. I'd sure love to get it on with you."

"I'll just bet you would," Judy nodded, wiping her mouth with another paper towel and throwing it in the garbage can. "Tell me, are you a tit man?"

"Not necessarily," he shrugged. "Oh hell, if you want a compliment I'll give it to you and tell you you have one gorgeous set of jugs. But I'm interested in the woman as a whole."

"How do you spell that last word?" she asked.

"With a W." he replied.

"Well, at least that makes you different from any other man I've ever known."

"Not really," he replied, trying to act bored. "There are lots of us around. Have you had supper?"

"It's a little too early for supper," she replied.

"Don't you think so?"

"Let's not mince words," he said to her.

She walked over to the sofa, which she suspected was a bed at night, and she sat. Then she surprised him by cupping her hands under her breasts, saying, "I have very sensitive breasts, Al. Few men know how to caress them correctly. Most try mangling me. All I really need is a touch."

Her hands very lightly ran over her taut nipples, as if showing him how she liked to be fondled. Then she slowly unzipped her dress, stood, and stepped out of it. Tossing it off on a chair nearby, she once again cupped her hands under her brassiere- encased breasts and said, "I don't like masturbating, Al. There's no pleasure in it. It's been quite some time since a man's hands have touched me."

He was standing near the sofa himself, now, and he slowly sat, watching as she kneeled in front of him. All the while she continued fondling her full, rounded breasts, pushing them up.

For some reason, Al felt almost like a young kid all over again. He ought to have felt sorry for Judy. She was baring more than her flesh before him, she was baring her soul. Yet he didn't feel sorry for her because she wasn't trying to get pity from him. On the contrary, it was obvious she was letting him, in essence know, that she wanted to get it on with him, though she wasn't blatantly coming right out and saying it.

There was pleasure scrawled all over her face as she fondled her breasts while looking at him. He reached down and removed her dark glasses, put them on a nearby end table, and for the first time he was able to see her glistening eyes. They were half- shuttered at the moment beneath long lashes.

Al found his hands reaching forward, and suddenly his fingers were following the paths traced by her own hands. After a few long minutes of that delightful activity, he realized he was becoming more than slightly aroused, and he suddenly moaned, allowing himself to jerk as he gave each oval a solid squeeze.

"Oh my, that feels good!" Judy gasped, purring softly hunching her smoothly rounded shoulders and then closing her eyes. "OH YESSSS... I've been aching to feel a man's hands touch me for the longest time, Al. it's been so long... so long."

"That sounds like your fault more than anyone else's," Al whispered, breathing heavily, enjoying the contact of her full, swollen breasts immensely, thrilling to the pressure of her nipples through her brassiere.

"I'm particular," she gasped. "I'm not going to give my body to just any man, just as, I'm sure, you're particular which parolees enjoy what you do to them."

"I'm glad," he murmured softly. "I'm very glad. I wouldn't expect a woman like you to be a virgin, in fact I'd be downright disappointed if you were, but I'm glad you're careful and particular."

"Being particular also makes me a pretty lonely woman," Judy sighed as his hands continued massaging her paps. "Men don't like going out with women who won't give them what they want, especially when the woman is my age."

"You sound like you're old," Al said, laughing softly. "Jesus, you're not even thirty, yet. Hell! I'll tell you this much. If I ever did have me a permanent girl, she'd be a lot like you. You're a woman I can respect, Judy."

"I wouldn't have come here if I thought otherwise," she said to him, her eyes flying open. She looked at him with an almost predatory stare. Her tongue came out as she nervously licked her sensuous lips, and then she said, "Just for tonight, do you think you might be able to pretend I belong to you? I'm not going to hold you to anything permanent, Al. But for this one night, I'd like to make believe someone really cares about me."

"I'd like that," Al told her, continuing to feel her breasts. "Let's pretend we're married."

"Fine!" she nodded. "What do married couples do on a Saturday night?"

"Well, like you said, it's too early to go out for supper or to a nightclub. Look, for openers, let's just sit here on the couch and relax, and maybe watch a little TV, and sort of let nature take its course."

"That sounds like one terrific idea," Judy said, and she got to her feet and turned on the TV set. Then she walked over to him and snuggled beside him on the sofa, her feet drawn up under her as she felt the circle of his right arm holding her close.

She pressed her body so firmly into his, his hand was able to sneak under her arm and caress her breast. His other arm came across his waist, enabling him to touch her other nipple, and now he was caressing both breasts, giving them his full attention with fingers and thumbs.