But if that train of thought was right, then I’d have to believe that Ana had sneaked into bed without waking me up. And rolled me onto my back – I remembered a hand on my chest; was that Sa’afia’s or Ana’s? – and taken my cock into her mouth and licked me till I was hard, without Sa’afia objecting or making a fuss.

Ana would have had to take the risk that I wouldn’t reach up and put my hands on her breasts, or her ass. Because if I’d felt her body, I’d have known it wasn’t Sa’afia. She or Sa’afia had pushed me back onto the pillows, to signal that I should just relax and be pleasured. I’d lain back and relaxed, since I was tired, and a little amused. If Sa’afia wanted to be a kitten and play with her master’s cock, then let her, I’d thought. I’d indulged her, and myself … But it had been an extraordinary risk for Ana to take. And Sa’afia. 

Not the world’s most original fantasy. But yes, it crossed my mind.

What would I have done if I’d reached up for Sa’afia, and found Ana? If it had been any other two girls I’d have been pleased. I supposed I’d have kissed and spanked both of them, and fucked them one by one. Not at once, sweet though that thought would be, since they were cousins and I didn’t think they’d like that.

But I wasn’t supposed to fuck Ana. And that certainly included fucking her mouth.

In practice I’d have been aghast if I’d reached for Sa’afia and discovered Ana. I probably wouldn’t have been angry; I’d have seen that they’d meant well. But if I’d found Ana sucking me I’d have been horrified. I’d only know that I shouldn’t have let it happen.

I don’t know exactly what I’d have done, but at least I’d have sent Ana back to the couch. She’d be crying. Sa’afia would be upset. I’d have had to be looking after them, while wondering what the hell was left of my professional ethics. Also my career. Even if it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t have stayed on as Ana’s probation officer. I’d have to transfer her to someone else’s caseload. And that meant I’d have to explain why.

On the other hand, the thing was impossible. Wasn’t it?

Ana had called me late on Thursday afternoon, to confirm that she was coming on Friday. She sounded a little sad. Wistful, and faintly accusing. It occurred to me that maybe she’d been serious when she said she was in love with me. In which case my response had been far too brusque. It would have hurt her. I’d have to say something to comfort her without giving her any encouragement.

Not that she needed much encouragement.

So on Thursday night I was home alone.

I still hadn’t seen Sa’afia in the last two nights. I’d called her twice a day, and she’d been distant, tolerating my call and then ending it.

I put on Dr John and took a beer to the couch in the living room, where Ana had slept. I noticed the line, “brain salad surgery”, in “Right Place, Wrong Time”. I’d first heard that phrase as the title of an Emerson, Lake and Palmer album. Apparently it meant “oral sex”. In the Dr John song it sounded sexy, though not obviously about cock-sucking But everything sung by Dr John sounds like it must be filthy. While nothing by ELP sounds sexy at all. I love ELP, by the way, and I enjoy how unfashionable they currently are, but they couldn’t do “sexy” to save their lives.

So I was thinking about Ana, and how pleasant it would be to let her have her way with me. I bet … And then I pressed my thumb and forefinger together and put them into my mouth. I said, “shhhhhhh”.

At least, I tried to.

I couldn’t even attempt the sound without my teeth closing onto my knuckles. It was a bite. To shhhhhh someone, you have to have your teeth close together, not clenched, but nearly. I hadn’t felt teeth closing on my cock when Sa’afia had said “shhhhh”. And when I had the obstacle of my thumb and finger in my mouth I found that I couldn’t make the sound at all. The best I could manage was something like, “hoooooowh.”

But I’d heard Sa’afia say, “shhhhhhh”. While my cock was getting sucked. And I hadn’t felt any teeth.

I sat there, mouth open. I suspect most of my readers had realised this days or weeks ago. But I sometimes missed things that concerned me, if I wasn’t expecting them. I said, “oh.” 

I was at home. Sa’afia hadn’t called me all day. That wasn’t like her. 

I missed her. And, because I’m a shallow man, I’d thought she’d be all warm and affectionate and loving and sexy, because I’d got her cousin out of some major trouble, and … Well, I was expecting her to be telling me how clever and brave and good I was, and demanding to fuck me till I ran out of puff. N’ stuff. It wasn’t compulsory for her to say that, and even then I had an inkling that my infinite taste for being praised wasn’t entirely adult. But I heard nothing from her at all, and that lasted long enough to move from being disappointing to being actively strange. 

So I called her and invited her over, with a guarantee to cook her something Indian, probably malai kofta and rice and parathas. I wasn’t really expecting her to accept, because her mother was home. But I’d hoped it’d be a cheerful conversation-starter. 

It fell flat. She said she had to look after her mom, and she let her end of the conversation die.

I tried a couple of other openers, like what she thought might be a good job for Ana to go for, and if she wanted to see the new Star Trek film, a topic we’d touched on before, and that allowed us to be pretty damn hilarious about Bill Shatner’s awesome toupee. 

Those fell flat too. She seemed distracted. 

“Uh, Sa’afia, are you okay?” 

She said she was fine, in the voice that means she is far from okay. 

“Well, have I massively pissed you off, and if so, one, I’m sorry, and two, is there anything I can do to unfuck up whatever it is that I’ve fucked up?” 

“What? No, you’re fine; you haven’t done anything wrong.” This was in the tone that said I’d done something terribly wrong, and that only an oaf would fail to know, or pretend not to know, what it was.

I tried one more starter – “So you’re missing out on amazing malai kofta; what are you having for dinner?” – and when that fell flat I felt the need to get off the phone, about as urgently as she wanted this conversation to end. So I said, “Okay! Talk to you soon!” 

And I hung up. So I was out of her misery, or she’d put me out of mine. I stared at my phone. I wanted to call her back, but I knew a second conversation, just then, wouldn’t go any better.

What, I wondered, the fuck was going on?

Ana called me in the afternoon. She told me she’d been fired from Chicken Licken, because her boss hadn’t liked his employee getting threatened by cops outside his kitchen. She’d explained that those were corrupt cops, and she hadn’t been charged with anything, while the cop who’d harassed her was likely to get fired. But the branch manager still fired her. She’d brought cops and dishonor down on the good name of Chicken Licken.

I said, “Okay. That’s fucked up.”  

“What should I do? Can I get the bastard?”

“You could force him to take them back. Maybe. Jane, you know, Law Centre Jane, she could take it on.”

“Would I get my pay while I was off work?”

“I don;t know. You’re a casual worker. Government’s gone to a lot of effort to make sure you don’t have much in the way of rights. You really want to know what I think?”

“Of course I do, Jaime.”

“I think the odds are stacked against you. Even if you won, you’d waste so much time and mental energy with it, with the case and everything, that … It wouldn’t be worth it if you won. And you’ve got a bit less than one chance in two of winning. Ask Jane, but that’s my estimate.”

“That’s what I thought. But it’s so not fair. They’ve got no reason to fire me.”  

“True. But another thing that’s true is, you always hated that place anyway. Why don’t you get a better job?” 

“I can’t do anything else! I’ve got no skills.” 

“You’re doing all right at school. You can manage a till.”

She made a dubious noise.

“Of course you can manage a till. Anyway, if you don’t know how, I can get someone to teach you. You can at least get a shop assistant job. Or … I don’t know. But come in on Friday, and we’ll go through the jobs in the paper together. I’ll get you a resume. And I’ll happily tell anyone they should hire you.”

“Would you?”

“Of course I’ll say you’re bloody wonderful.”

“Awwww…”

“Though probation officers aren’t necessarily a good look, as references go. So you think of two or three other people who’ll say good things about you. Then you show up to an interview looking all bright and sassy, and you’ll do fine. The pay’ll be better and you won’t have to breathe in chicken fat all the time.”  

“Aue, that place stank. Yeah, okay. Good riddance. We’ll look at jobs on Friday?”

 “You bet. Come in at …” I checked my appointments. “Eleven.” 

“I’ll take you for lunch, afterwards.” 

“No, you won’t. You can’t afford to spend your money until you’ve got another job. But I’ll take you out to lunch.” 

“You know, Jaime? I’m being serious this time. I think I’m in love with you. I love you.” 

That hit me. Because I felt a bit unloved by Sa’afia. I said, “No, you don’t!” 

“No, I do. I am.”

“No, I meant, you can’t say things like that. To me. I can’t hear them. I’m sorry.” 

“Aren’t you at least fond of me?”

“Yeah, I’m fond of you.”

“Well then, do you love me?”

“Girl, you’re dangerous. No more of this, okay?” 

“Aue.” I could imagine her face when she said that, half sad and half teasing. “All right. I’ll see you on Friday at eleven?” 

“Yes. Bye, Ana.” 

I hung up, though she had more to say. I scowled, annoyed with myself. I’d lost that round when I’d said she was dangerous. That told her what she wanted to know. 

Here’s a recap of the story so far.

I was working as a probation officer in LA, near Palm Beach. I had a client, Ana, who was 19 to my 23, so we were both a bit sillier than we should have been. One day Ana discovered two things, one of which is that I fancied her, while the other was that I wasn’t allowed to have sex with any clients, and I didn’t intend to break that rule. So I was safe sex, or at least safe teasing. I didn’t much enjoy being her safe guy, but that was my job.

One day I happened to meet Ana at a party. It turned out that we had mutual friends. Her cousin Sa’afia was with her, and I paid Sa’afia a lot of attention partly to keep Ana off me. But that turned into genuine lust and liking for Sa’afia in no time. We went to bed, and over the next months we developed a cautious not-quite-declared kind of love.

I’d discovered that the police, one officer in particular, were harassing Ana to get at her father, who was a drug dealer who – they thought – owed them money. Things came to a head with a rape threat, and I guessed that an attempt to plant drugs on her would be the next step. And I’d managed to put a stop to that and get the most corrupt officer suspended, and probably fired.  

The night that officer, Greg Curnow, was suspended, I felt it wouldn’t be safe for Ana to go back to her apartment. Sa’afia hadn’t had time to organise an alternative place for her to stay, so Ana spent the night with Sa’afia and me at my place. She slept on the couch while Sa’afia and I went to bed together. 

Some time in the middle of the night, Sa’afia had sucked me off. And in the morning she’d fucked me, but she seemed to be angry. I had no idea why. I’d called her since, and she still was angry. 

So I shelved that problem and went to work on my other clients, the ones who weren’t Ana.

Now read on.