Fletcher Hill - Sweet lips

"Well," Sharon began, "if you really think a spanking's called for…"

"Oh, Miss Palmer," a woman's voice said behind them. "May I have a word with you, please?"

"Who's that?" Vickie said as she and Sharon turned back toward the sidewalk.

"My parole officer," Sharon said. "Miss Thornton."

"Where'd she come from?"

"She must have been waiting in that car there, in back of yours."

The woman who strode up to them appeared to be in her late twenties. She was very tall, with a full-blown body, carefully-coiffed brown hair, a small-featured face that just missed being pretty, and cool green eyes beneath unplucked brows.

"How are you, Miss Palmer?" she said. Her voice was low-pitched, faintly metallic.

"Very well, thank?" Sharon said. "Miss Thornton, this is my roommate, Miss Quinn. Vickie, this is my parole officer, Miss Thornton."

"How do you do, Miss Quinn," the redheaded woman said, not smiling.

"Hi," Vickie said.

"I hope you're not a thief too," Miss Thornton said.

"What?" Vickie said.

"Sharon can't associate with other thieves, you know," Miss Thornton said. "Much less share an apartment with one."

Vickie glanced from her to Sharon and back again, her face suddenly flushed. "Listen here," she said, taking a short step forward. "Who the hell do you think…"

"Never mind, Vickie," Sharon said.

"But she…"

"Please," Sharon said. "It can only make things worse for me."

The parole officer smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "She's right, you know," she said. "You go around without a bra all the time, dear?"

"That's none of your business," Vickie said.

"You a whore?" Miss Thornton said. "You must be, with your tits sticking through your dress like that."

Vickie took another step forward, but Sharon put out an arm to restrain her. "Just don't say anything," she said. "Please." It was all she could do to keep from saying something herself, and she had to bite her lip to keep the words from spilling out. But she had no choice. When a convicted criminal's parole was less than an hour old, and she was talking to the woman who could send her back to prison for another two years, she held her tongue.

"Now that I notice," Miss Thornton said, "you aren't wearing a bra either, Sharon."

"They didn't return it to me this morning," Sharon said. "They didn't return any of my underclothes at all. Or my stockings either."

"No? Well, isn't that a shame. Your tits stick out even worse than your little chippy friend's do. I did notice you didn't have any slip on, when I was coming up the walk." There was a long silence.

"I wasn't expecting to see you until Monday morning," Sharon said. "I was supposed to report to your office."

"I take a special interest in some of my girls. You ought to feel flattered. I have forty little darlings like you, you know. Forty little thieves and whores and cutthroats and…"

"Sharon's none of those things," Vickie said. "She isn't."

"She's a convicted felon," Miss Thornton said. "She's a stinking ex-con, and she's damn lucky I spoke up for her. Otherwise, she'd have done her full three years."

"You spoke up for me?" Sharon said.

"How else did you think you got out in minimum time? Without me, and the job I got for you, you'd still be inside."

"I did get time off for good behavior, Miss Thornton."

"You're just a sweet little girl all around," the parole officer said. "Especially with your bare tits poking out that way."

"Was there something you wanted to see me about?" Sharon said.

"I certainly didn't come here just to welcome you home," Miss Thornton said. "I've a few things to say to you, girl." She glanced meaningfully at Vickie. "Privately."

Sharon took a deep breath. "Would you mind, Vickie?"

Vickie hesitated a moment, then turned and started for the entrance. "I'll have a pitcher of martinis waiting for you, baby," she said over her shoulder.

"Not for this little thief, you won't," Miss Thornton said, watching the saucy undulation of Vickie's hips beneath the brief white skirt. "The use of intoxicating liquors is a violation of Article Four of the Conditions of Parole."

Vickie said something beneath her breath, and opened the door.

"Look at that," Miss Thornton said, gesturing toward Sharon's pelvis. "The sun shows right through you. I can see…"

"You really don't have to look, you know," Sharon said.

"I really don't have to take the tiniest particle of lip from you either," Miss Thornton said. "We'll talk in my car, out of the sun."

In the car, Sharon sat waiting while the other woman took a tissue from the glove compartment and sponged at her face and the hollow of her throat.

"Hot," Miss Thornton said. "Hottest summer I can remember." She rolled the tissue into a ball and tossed it out the window. "Now," she said. "About this job I got for you."

"Yes?"

"It pays pretty well, considering. A hundred and ten dollars a week." She paused. "Of which you'll keep sixty."

"What?" Sharon said.

"That's half," Miss Thornton said. "You'll bring the other half along with you every Monday, when you report to me."

"A kickback?" Sharon said.

"You might call it that," Miss Thornton said. "It'll be quite a comedown for you, modeling ready-to-wear, won't it?" She smiled. "I understand you used to make fifty dollars an hour, modeling in the nude."

"I did lingerie and hosiery."

"Just another way of selling your body," Miss Thornton said, her eyes roving over Sharon from breasts to knees and back again. "And probably doing a little whoring along with it, too."

Sharon started to say something, then caught herself. She was in a mistress-slave relationship with this woman, and would be for the next two years.

"Too bad you had to get so greedy," Miss Thornton said. "Tell me, Sharon. Whatever possessed you to go in for something as stupid as armed robbery?"

"Nothing possessed me. I never…"

"Oh, but you did. You were driving the getaway car. You waited while your boyfriend went inside and…"

"I didn't know what he was going to do. I had no idea he…"

"Oh, of course not."

"It's true!"

"You were convicted, weren't you? Four witnesses saw him run out of that jewelry shop and get in your car, didn't they? And what about that necklace and bracelet the detectives found in your apartment? They were part of the loot, weren't they?"

"Yes, but…"

"Yes, but nothing. Hell, even your boyfriend swore you…"

"He would have sworn to anything. He knew that if they tried a woman for the same crime, he'd have a better chance. He and his lawyer thought the judge and jury would go easier on him if I was being tried along with him."

"Well, of course. You were willing to share the loot, weren't you? Why shouldn't you share the penalty?"

"And he wasn't my boyfriend, Miss Thornton. I hardly even knew him. He was a friend of a girl I knew."

"He told a different story."

Sharon sighed and turned to look out the window. "What's the point in talking about it?" she said.

"That little platinum friend of yours is a lesbian," Miss Thornton said. "Right?"

"What makes you say that?"

"And so are you."

"Oh?"

"I heard what you were saying after you got out of her car."

"Whether either of us is a lesbian or not is none of your concern, Miss Thornton."

"I just might make it my concern. You rub me the wrong way just once, girl, and you're going to be in for an ugly surprise."

"There's nothing illegal about lesbianism, Miss Thornton."

"Maybe not. But there's plenty illegal about contributing to the delinquency of a minor."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"A lot. You let me catch you fooling around with any little girls, and you'll find out."