Probation officer #35: Round my ears

Posted on July 26, 2013 by jaime

In the taxi we established that Sa’afia had her mother staying at her house and no condoms. My place had condoms and no moms. We went to my place.

In the taxi Sa’afia accepted my hand under her shirt, but not under her bra, a signal that I hadn’t yet won the right to assume that we were going to have sex. Sa’afia was a good girl by the lights of the First Samoan Church of Los Angeles, when she wasn’t being goaded by her younger cousin into going out to get laid at a party.

So I consolidated what I’d won so far, with my hands on her warm, bare back while I kissed her. She sighed and kissed back. There was desire, and so we made ourselves busy.

All I had to do was not screw up, in a courtship game where I had to guess the rules as well as make sure I didn’t break them. But everything about this night, this taxi trip to my bed, was random. I’d met Sa’afia by accident by meeting Ana by accident; and on any other night Sa’afia might still have liked me, but she wouldn’t have got into a taxi with me. Sa’afia had told me about the pep talk Ana had given about girls going out to have fun. Even then, I wouldn’t have spent my evening trying to make sure Sa’afia had fun, if she hadn’t touched my mouth. We were random events.

Inside my door, we said almost nothing until the next morning, but it seemed that Sa’afia wanted to know that I desired her. That was easy. I took off her clothes very slowly, with a lot of kissing and adoring what I found, and once I’d removed everything but her bra and knickers she was prepared to be gathered in and lain on her back on my bed.

She was content to leave me dressed while I undressed her, and to accept and give me kisses when our mouths were close. But sex was something she went along with, not something she demanded or led. She wasn’t “submissive”, and I’d already found that it’s submissive women, in the bdsm sense, who tend to be readiest to specify what they want and to be most assertive during sex. It’s a generalisation, but most men and women who do both styles of sex will recognise it.

She had to be coaxed and kissed to get her bra off. It seemed odd to strike that shyness at this stage, and I wondered if some oaf had, some time in her life, made her self-conscious about her breasts. Her breasts were firmly heavy, one of the many kinds of perfect. Maybe she’d had more attention that she’d liked. I decided to say nothing, in the meantime.

But she didn’t hesitate to lift her ass so I could slide her tiny red knickers down and off. She was exuberantly wet when I stroked her, and vocal, though I don’t think her murmurs involved words, when I ran my tongue down her belly and stayed to tongue slowly along the plump purple folds of her cunt. Sa’afia closed soft, slightly cool thighs against my ears, and squirmed luxuriously.

Probation officer #34: “You’re funny”

Posted on July 25, 2013 by jaime

But with the mouth-touching and waist holding thing we’d only signalled possibilities. It took us until two in the morning to get into the same bed. It wasn’t a matter of Sa’afia being coy, or her wanting assurances that I intended much beyond the present night. She wanted to know for a fact that she liked me.

I’d made no important mistakes, and relief had made me a little high and silly so that I was more successfully amusing than usual. But I think she only decided that she liked me, personally and particularly, about one-thirty. The unusual thing was that it was because she worked out that I’d lied to her about something important.

We’d talked about Ana’s college, where I’d let her think, without saying so directly, that I was enrolled too. But I mentioned an Indian takeaway in the food hall, which had actually closed two years ago. Sa’afia knew that and I didn’t. She looked at me. She was angry.

Then suddenly she wasn’t angry. She pointed a finger at me, as though I was something funny that I really should get a look at. “You. You’re the guy from probation, aren’t you? Ana’s told me … Oh my god.” And she laughed, then tried to stop. Then she laughed some more and said, “Oh, I’m rude, sorry. Sorry.” Then she laughed so hard she stumbled forward, helpless with amusement.

She collapsed against me, which meant I had to hold her up, which was fine because it was an intense version of holding her. She felt good.

She glanced over at me, a little guiltily, but I was happy. So she kissed my neck. “You’re funny.”

There was a lot to be said about that. But I chose, “Taxi?”

“Yeah. Mr Probation Officer. Taxi.”

Probation officer #33: Shut up and sleep with me (Sin With Sebastian)

Posted on July 24, 2013 by jaime

I gave Ana a little wave, which she didn’t see, and drew Sa’afia out of the circle. Then there was no circle, just a snogging couple and two strangers. Sa’afia looked curiously at me. She was wondering if I’d just experienced a personal tragedy and she needed to be sympathetic.

I said, “No no. Ana and I, we really are friends. Just friends.”

I was still grinning at her in relief and delight, which must have seemed odd. She laughed. “If you say so.”

“Absolutely I say so. Sa’afia. So would you like – “

“Ah, yeah. Okay. You wanna dance?”

“Actually I saw you. Before you came over. And you dance like a – like a really good dancer. Really good.”

Sa’afia raised her eyebrows. “Ah.”

“And I dance like a trainwreck. Something hit by a trainwreck.”

“Aw, you didn’t look that bad. Considering.”

“That’s only because I kind of enjoy it. In a sick way. But really I suck. Everyone knows it.”

I actually have this CD.

She touched my mouth. “You should shut up and dance, more.”

“I’d love to dance with you. If you’re serious. But I was going to say, Would you like a glass of wine?”

“You know, I think I would. You have wine?”

I tapped Manaia on the shoulder. He looked up, frowning. Ana saw me. I grinned, so she grinned back.

I gave Manaia the other beer, and warned him not to open it for a while: it might get foamy.

I said to Sa’afia, “There’s wine in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” She’d touched my mouth, so on the way to the kitchen I put my arm round Sa’afia’s waist. She let it stay there. I expected she and Ana would compare notes in the morning.

Probation officer #32: “And he’s your?”

Posted on July 23, 2013 by jaime

Then I saw another girl, who’d been dancing with Ana when I arrived. She was Samoan too, a slightly fuller version of Ana: a sister, maybe. She was coming over to find out who had taken all of Ana’s attention. There was a boy following her. Following close and watching that woman walk, but he hadn’t sealed any deals.

She said, “Hey, girl!”

Ana said, “Ah hey!” and gave her a kissy face. She said to me, “this is Sa’afia!”

I said, borne along by relief, “Hey, Sa’afia, you must be Ana’s beautiful sister?”

“Beautiful cousin. And hey, you.” It seemed she wasn’t eccied, as she didn’t take to being called “beautiful” quite as easily as Ana would. But I’d got the glottal stop in her name right, so it wasn’t such a bad thing if I thought she was beautiful.

It had mainly been the relief speaking, making me expansive. But now I’d mentioned it, I decided that she was. Beautiful. A bit older than Ana, more serious. Softer. Sa’afia smiled. “And you are?”

Ana said, “oh! And this is Jaime!”

Sa’afia said, “And he’s your?”

Ana stopped still, confused for a second. She didn’t want to say, “probation officer.”

I said, “friend. We’re friends.” I named the college where Ana was doing her night classes.

Sa’afia said, “Oh, that’s cool.” Now she was grinning back at me.

And because it was a party, I drew Sa’afia into the embrace involving Ana and me, and then, because he was looking forlorn, I made space for the boy who’d followed Sa’afia. Between Ana and me. Ana, the wee slut, said, “Hey, Manaia!” and kissed him. So Manaia was his name.

Manaia took his chance and kissed back, put his arms around Ana and dipped her like a dancing sailor. He was going to be Ana’s lucky man tonight, and that, at least, would be uncomplicated.