Probation officer #6

The call from the desk sergeant had come in after the Probation Office had closed. All the official Probation Service cars were out, so if i were going to collect Ana it’d have to be in my own transport. I had a British Bedford van, twice my age though better at starting in the morning.

The cops would laugh at me when I drove the van into their yard. If one of them was in the mood he could find a dozen reasons why it shouldn’t be allowed on the road, and why I should be charged, even arrested if they felt like it, for having driven it. So I’d have my prisoner, Ana, and I’d be stranded. It would be a good way to get me fired.

But it was a choice of taking that risk or leaving Ana locked up overnight. It turned out that the cops were happy enough to see me driving an old wreck. I’d given them a laugh. So they let me sign for Ana, then wait while a policewoman went and got her. This time she’d been charged with a real crime, more or less. She stolen a butterfly hair clip from a department store, and then run off.

When I led Ana out of the watchroom and into the police car park, she looked around for the car I’d have. She was incredulous when it turned to be the Bedford. She knew people with vehicles like that, and they weren’t involved in law enforcement.

So we sat side by side in our bucket seats until we were safely away from the police yard. She said, “thank you. I didn’t think anyone was coming to get me.” She smiled at me, for the first time ever. But I was angry with her.



In fact, I realised, I wanted to put Ana over my knee. I wanted to tell her she was a silly, self-destructive little brat, and tug down the little frayed jeans she wore. Then I’d smack her golden little bottom until she was kicking and crying. And then I might stroke her ass while she listened to me, though by the time I’d thought that far ahead, her fantasy self was naked, embarrassed and kind of excited.

That train of thought, and some of its ramifications, stayed in my mind for only about a second while I remembered that I was supposed to be some sort of professional. I shook my head and made a sound, “nnnh”, to clear that vision out. I wondered if she’d heard men make that sound before.

Anyway, the erection I was sporting had taken about a second to arrive, and it was taking longer to go away. I forced myself not to look to check if it was visible. 

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