Nick was bored. He was sitting in District Court, Judge Harmon's courtroom, trying to stay awake. Not that the matter wasn't serious enough, or that it lacked points of interest, Nick has just heard it all before. Mentally, he cursed himself for the thousandth time- it had seemed like such a good idea back in college-- switching his major from pre-law to psychology. It just hadn't occurred to him that while psychology majors weren't exactly a dime a dozen, they did max out at $30,000 each.
Nick Adams was a parole officer, the lowliest of county workers. He worked in Union County, New Jersey, home to the collection of slums that called itself Newark. Even prison guards at the local state prison in Rahway looked down at parole officers. Nick had thought about quitting more than once, but to do what? He thought about applying for a teaching credential, but teachers made about the same as parole officers-although they did have the summer off.
Even worse than the job, Nick hated the pay. By the time he paid the rent for his miserable one bedroom apartment and made the payment on his 1991 Mitsubishi, Nick didn't have much money left, certainly not enough to chase the higher-class New York suburban pussy that he so desired. Nick was currently between girlfriends- his last one was sick of going out for a big night at Pizza Hut- and he had even worked out the economics of resorting to hookers rather than dating. At least for $200, you knew what you were getting. Some of the ones sitting around in the Airport Hilton were pretty damn nice looking, especially the redhead with the big …"Mr. Adams, I won't ask you again," barked Judge Harmon. "Please answer the question."
"Uh, your honor, could you be more specific? I am not sure what your line of questioning is aimed at." The reason Nick had no idea what the judge was driving at is that he was mentally tuned into the red-headed hooker from the Hilton, replaying the show she put on last night on the dance floor.
"Mr. Adams, what my line of questioning is aimed at is that I need to understand why, in your opinion, the defendant, Mr. Ramirez, can't hold a job. Please do your sleeping outside my courtroom, or I WILL charge you with contempt."
With that, Nick was back in the real world, and did a nice job of explaining that while Mr. Ramirez had an excellent skill set, a good work history and high self-esteem, cocky, arrogant second-story men with 10 priors were just not in demand by high-tech industries in the area. Court adjourned; Ramirez and Nick went back to their respective prisons.
His office was a small room in the county office building, but it was private, quiet, and it did have air-conditioning. It was in the basement, didn't have a window, and had peeling paint and thread-bare carpet, which explained why someone important didn't want it. Even though it was one step above broom closet, Nick thought it was nicer than his apartment.
As soon as he walked into his office, the intercom buzzed. "Mr. Adams, Ms. Elkins will be in to see you in a few minutes. The director assigned her to you, case file 2349784808239234/L3J. Please try to be on time."
"That goddamned fuckin' cunt," thought Nick. Another crack whore, no doubt. Or maybe a shoplifting welfare queen." Nick and the director didn't get along well. They were perfectly civil- as long as they were separated by at least 200 feet- but any closer, and Nick wanted to rip her throat out. Even worse was her prissy little receptionist, Lisa. She was certainly cute enough, a sort of Vanessa Williams look, although her skin was a little darker. Lisa loved to wear short skirts, which just made it worse for Nick. He wanted to grab her and throw her across the desk and show her what he thought of case file 234978…..
"Mr. Adams?" cooed a gentle voice accompanied by gentle tap at his open door.
"What the f… I mean, Can I help you?" It wasn't often that Nick got caught off-guard, but this was one of those times. Ms. Elkins was absolutely stunning, even prettier than the stunning redhead that almost got his ass thrown in jail this morning for contempt-of-court.
Gina Elkins strutted into Nick's office. She was dressed in ordinary jeans and a sweater, and even though both were quite loose and baggy, there was no doubt about the charms hidden underneath her clothes. Her face was made up to highlight her auburn hair and red eyes, with big, moist lips and a deep red glow about her skin. More than anything, she resembled the movie actress Jill Ireland.
"Sit down and let's get a few things straight. Beginning Monday, we will have a weekly meeting for twenty minutes, starting at 10:20AM. That means twenty after ten. Steal yourself a good watch, because if you show up at twenty-one minutes after ten, I won't meet with you, and you will be remanded back to prison. When I tell you to do something, that means do it- no arguments, no excuses, no explanations. I am a busy man, I have lots of work to do, and the easiest way for me to cut down on my workload is to send you back to prison. I get paid whether your ass is in prison or the penthouse. Remember that! Now get the fuck out of here, and come back Monday. I don't have time today." Even Nick had to admit the performance was a little strong, but pretty women just pissed him off. Always thought they could flash a smile and a little tit and get whatever they wanted. "Well, fuck 'em all," Nick thought.
Actually doing his job, Nick went down to RECORDS and pulled Ms. Elkins' file. She was certainly no angel, and had a couple of drug convictions, although she seemed to have given up the narcotics. Her latest exploits were arrests and convictions for prostitution along with a score of arrests and acquittals for theft, robbery and assault. The last convictions were for conspiracy, robbery and pandering. Quite an impressive career for a 25 year-old, thought Nick.
Her last conviction stemmed from running an escort service preying on merchant seamen calling on Port Newark. It seemed to Nick that she was prosecuted, not so much for the prostitution, but for scamming the sailors and sending large knucklebusters out with the girls to collect money from the johns and then and take off without delivering the goods. It should have been plea-bargained, but there was no deal. Nick chuckled to himself…how could she have known that the judge in the case was a former merchant sailor? Five years of parole and a $10,000 fine- sounded to Nick like the good judge had a score to settle with a former madame somewhere. Even the parole instructions were extremely harsh- just about guaranteeing that the offender would violate one of them and be remanded to prison. "Tough luck, bitch" thought Nick.
When Friday came, Nick had another of his usual weekends- thank god for strip-clubs or he would never get to see any pussy. He had dropped $25 in the Pink Pagoda on Saturday night, and didn't get so much as a second look from any of the strippers. Nothing unusual in that, but Jesus, thought Nick, at least they could smile at him when he tried to cop a handful with one of his dollar tips.
Monday morning came soon enough, and Nick spent the first part of the day with the usual collection of lowlifes. His ten o'clock appointment, Danny Quinn, had a hard luck story about how he lost his job after just being late one time for five minutes. A quick phone call to his former boss revealed that Danny was on-time exactly once, and usually didn't show up at all. Nick sent Mr. Quinn on his way- with instructions to show him a paycheck next week for at least $150, or else be ready to go back to prison.
No sooner did Nick send Mr. Quinn on his way, than his phone rang. The director was on his phone, reminding him that his rate of remanding parolees back to prison was 24% over the average, and nearly in violation of county guidelines. Nick solemnly promised to do better, and just barely managed to get the phone hung up before blurting out "fucking bitch needs a dick up her ass."
Gina Elkins was standing in his doorway and heard the outburst, but had the good sense to ignore it. Nick grunted to her, pointed to his "interrogation chair", and waited for Gina to be seated. Perhaps Nick should have taken a few minutes, or maybe he was just in his job for too long and didn't give a fuck anymore, but the next 20 minutes were as much of a surprise to Nick as to Gina.
"So, got caught gaslighting the Merchant-Marine, did we Ms. Elkins? Really pissed off old Judge Waller, but you didn't know he was a captain in the Merchant Marine, did you? Well then, that puts you in a bit of a spot. You see, I take my orders from the judge, and he has laid out a pretty tough parole for you. If for any reason I even suspect you are not on your way to being a model citizen, you are on your way to Rahway prison, habitual female-offenders section. I don't have to tell you, you won't like it very much."
"I am so sorry, but I never meant to cheat anybody, There was this guy, and he was in the mob, and he threatened …" Nick cut Gina off in mid sentence.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch. I give the orders here. As far as I am concerned, the butch dykes in Rahway can have at your pretty little cunt all they want. I hear ice-fisting is the latest fad down there, and I am sure you will get the hang of it soon enough." Nick stopped talking, and let the silence hang in the air for a few minutes. He could almost feel Gina scheming, trying to size up his weak points and plan her attack. Gina broke eye-contact first, and Nick knew he had just gained the advantage.
"Look, I can make it worth your while," said Gina. "How would you like to enjoy life a little? How about some help with dating? I can introduce you to some nice girls- say one a week- who would love the chance to go out with someone nice and handsome like yourself. Since these girls are friends of mine, I would even help out with expenses for the dates- say $200- just to make sure you can go somewhere nice."
Nick was tempted, and had a very brief inner discussion between his good and evil sides. He could almost see the little cartoon characters with the halo and horns on either shoulder, each arguing their case. His mind was made up when he saw the little guy with the horns ram his pitchfork up the ass of his halo-bearing rival.
Even so, Nick's little head hadn't totally taken over from the big one. "No, Ms. Elkins, that isn't going to work. I don't trust your friends nearly enough, and they wouldn't have anything to lose by blabbing. You, on the other hand have a much greater interest in keeping quiet. So, let's discuss what you can do for me. A weekly date sounds like a good idea, and certainly the $200 is a good start, but $500 would be so much more appropriate."
"I can't pay you $500 a week, where wou…"
"Shut the fuck up, cunt. I am not going to tell you again. Now then, let's get the rest of the rules straight. You will keep this weekly appointment, and all the same rules apply. Only next time, I don't want to see jeans and a sweater. What I want to see is your legs- in the fucking shortest skirt you have. And don't forget the black stockings and the fuck-me pumps. And make sure those tits are shakin'. And for Christ sake, use the basement entrance- don't go parading through the lobby like some fucking $50 hooker."
Nick opened the door, and indicated that the interview was over. As Gina walked out, Nick reached down and grabbed her ass, and pinched it, as hard as he could. When Gina screamed, Nick used his other hand to grab her left tit and pinch her nipple. Gina hustled out the door and left.
After another of his usual kick-ass weekends getting turned down, Monday morning arrived. Mr. Quinn showed up at 10:00, and of course did not have a job, or a paycheck. "You must like prison, Danny-boy, since you are on your way back there."
"Wait a sec- I got me a job, and I made the c-and-a-half, just like you told me. But they don't pay by check, they pay in cash."
"And your supervisor's name and phone number is?" Nick picked up the phone and reached down to dial.
"Look, the bossman ain't got no phone, it's a new business- one of them virtuous businesses that ain't got no building or nothin'. But here's the one-fifty." Quinn counted out fifteen crispy tens on Nick's desk.
Nick was sure the only virtual thing about the business Mr. Quinn worked for was its legality, but the tens looked real enough. "Fair enough, get out of here." Quinn left, not bothering to pick up his money . "See you next week, Danny boy." Nick pocketed the money has he heard the clip-clopping of high-heels coming down the hall.
Gina was dressed very nicely. She was wearing a black dress; cut three inches above the knee and with a scoop neckline that just hinted at her cleavage. Black hose and sensible pumps completed the ensemble. As soon as she walked into his office, Nick slammed the door behind her. Gina sat in the guest chair in the office, and crossed her legs, letting her dress ride up just a little bit. She reached over to Nick's desk and put down an envelope- from which Nick could see top of a Ben Franklin.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing? Is that what I told you to wear? How dumb of a fuckin' cunt are you, anyway?"
"I brought you the money, what else do you want? Can't you just take the money and be happy with that? I thought that the money would be enough for you to go out and find …"
"Look, bitch, I don't give a flying fuck what you thought. You were ordered to show up here, dressed a certain way, and you chose not to do that. I hope you have been doing cunt-stretching exercises, because when those dykes and Rahway get their fat fists in you, you are going to feel it." Nick didn't say another word, just stared at Gina, watching the arrogance fade from her pretty green eyes.
Gina started to apologize, once again looking for the mercy that didn't exist in Nick's heart. "OK, I am sorry, next time I will dress just…"
Nick cut her off again. "I don't need no fuckin' excuses. You disobeyed because you thought you would get away with it. Now let's get that dress off, and we'll see about your spanking."
Gina started taking off her shoes when Nick snarled again. "Did I say anything about the shoes? Leave them on, just get the fuckin' dress off. Now!"
Gina still managed to maintain her poise- she had stripped for enough men to know how to do it. She reached down and lifted the bottom of her dress and slowly lifted it. As it rode up her thighs, Nick was surprised to see that she only wore pantyhose underneath it. Gina lifted it further, and Nick could see her bush, just barely visible through the nylon. Gina had trimmed her bush into a neat strip, and even though the color was tough to discern, Nick could tell that Gina was a real redhead.
Gina kept lifting the skirt, up over her waist, and bringing the bottom of her bra into view. She wore a black push-up bra, which stopped just above the nipple line. The tops of her aureole were visible over the top of the bra, and she was obviously proud of her 34C tits. Finally, the dress was over her head, with her long red hair falling back into place.
Nick walked over to Gina, and grabbed the tops of the bra cups. He pulled down hard, and Gina squealed as her hard nipples were pulled by the top of the bra cups. Nick pulled her bra down so that her tits were completely exposed, and grabbed her right nipple and pulled it, hard. Gina gasped in pain, and Nick kept pulling, finally stopping when her nipple was red and erect to its full half-inch. Without letting go, Nick reached his head over to her left nipple, and bit down on it, not hard, but long and steady, cutting off the circulation. Finally, Nick let up with his teeth, and Gina screamed as the blood started circulating again.
"Now, cunt, you will see the price of disobeying an order from me." Nick sat down in his guest-chair, the one without arms, and grabbed Gina by the nipple and pulled her down so she was stretched across his lap, her lovely pantyhosed ass pointed up in the air. Nick reached his one hand underneath Gina, and used it to force her legs apart. When she finally yielded, Nick poked three fingers through Gina's pantyhose, and forced them into her dry cunt. With his other hand, Nick gave Gina series of resounding swats across the ass, first on the left cheek, then the right. When each cheek had 20 swats, Gina started crying and her pussy started getting moist. By 30 swats she was bawling and wet, and by 40 she was nearly hysterical and leaking like a faucet.
Nick gave Gina a few seconds to catch her breath, then pulled her up by her hair. He directed her mouth to his belt, and ordered her to unzip his trousers and pull out his dick- with her mouth. As Gina struggled to get his zipper undone, Nick grabbed her left tit with his hand, and started squeezing. When Gina finally got Nick's hard dick exposed, Nick pulled Gina's head down, and stuffed his dick into her mouth.
Gina knew how to suck a dick, and gave it her best effort. It was tough to keep her mind on her work, though, since Nick had her left tit in a death grip, pulling hard on her nipple. Nick was pulling on her tit, digging his fingers into the side of them. He enjoyed pulling her nipple as far from her body as he could, then letting it go and watching her tit jiggle. "Make me blow my load, bitch, and I'll take it easy on your tit."
The pain had Gina very motivated, and she sucked as hard as she could. She ran her tongue into the slit at the top of Nick's cock, then deep-throated Nick and managed to get part of his balls in her mouth. Nick could only handle so much of this, and was close to orgasm. His grip on her tit and not lessened, and Gina's tit was turning bright red. "Make sure it splatters all over your face, or else you are going to have to do it again."
Gina took her orders well, and pulled Nick's dick out of her mouth, and caressed his balls as he neared orgasm. Gina positioned her face directly in front of Nick, and managed to direct his spurts so that the first one hit her on the forehead and dripped down on her red hair and over her eyes. The second splot hit right on her cheek, and ran down onto her lovely lips and into her mouth. The sight of Gina's pretty face heightened Nick's orgasm, and the third and final spurt hit her right on the chin and splashed into her mouth and up her nose. Gina's face was covered with sperm when Nick finally let go of her tit, and he watched as the bright red color begin to fade.
"Now put your dress on, and get the fuck out of here. Make sure you dress properly next week, or you will enjoy it even less." Nick stood up, and pointed to the door as Gina hurriedly tried to get her dress back on. Nick pocketed the envelope she left on his desk.
Nick went back to his favorite strip club over the weekend, and this time, things went better. His favorite stripper, Monica was working on Friday night, and Nick arrived as she was beginning her set. Monica was a perky little brunette, probably about 5'1, but with a bouncy set of tits and an ass that just begged to be fondled. Monica did not have long legs, but they were exquisite, and looked excellent in the high heels she was wearing. Monica's act was a businesswoman strip, and she started out dressed in a conservative grey business suit, white blouse and tan stockings with white heels.
First, Monica opened up the slit in the skirt so that her thighs became visible as she danced. With each sideways step, Monica's legs and thighs were fully exposed, including the garter belt she wore. Monica had seen Nick in the club a lot, and knew him to be a real cheapskate. She was amazed when Nick put a $20 down in front of the bar, and she danced over to pick it up.
Ironically, Monica was a good businesswoman. Her instincts told her that Nick must have a few dollars in his pocket if he put down a $20 before she even showed her tits. She decided to play him out and see what developed. Next, Monica started unbuttoning the blouse and pulling it out of the skirt. She had a white bra on underneath, and when the blouse was fully opened, she undid the bra and pulled it out from underneath the blouse. Her tits were now bouncing around as she danced, hiding, then peeking out of the open blouse.