"You have your copy of the Conditions of Parole with you?" Miss Thornton said.
"Yes."
"And we understand each other about your salary at Chumley's?"
"Yes."
"And you do know I can send you back to a cell any time I choose, don't you? I have only to say you've violated one or another of the articles of your parole. It doesn't matter how minor the infraction is. In fact, there doesn't even have to be an infraction. All that's necessary is for me to say there's been one. You understand me, Sharon?"
"Yes."
"Because I don't have to prove a thing. It's my word against yours – and you know which one they'll take. I can arrest you myself, or ask to have you apprehended, and have you back in prison within the hour." She paused. "And there's nothing in the world you can do about it. Absolutely nothing."
"I know," Sharon said.
"Just see you don't forget it," Miss Thornton said, reaching into her handbag. "Here's my card. My home address is on it too, you'll notice. I'll expect you at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon."
"At your home, you mean?"
"I just said as much, didn't I?"
"But why?"
"What's the matter? Don't you like surprises?"
"I just…"
"And make damn sure you're wearing something under your dress for once. I have respectable neighbors, you know." She nodded toward the door on Sharon's side of the car. "That's all for now. I've kept you from your little blond chippy long enough."
Sharon opened the door and started to get out.
"And Sharon," Miss Thornton said, her metallic voice pitched a little lower than it had been.
"Yes?" Sharon said.
"I hear you've been threatening to make trouble. They say you've sworn you're going to get your case reopened." She paused, her green eyes narrowing slightly. "Let me promise you something, Sharon. The first step you make in that direction will be your last. The day you even look like you're going to rock the boat will be the sorriest day of your life."
"I…"
"Shut up! I've listened to enough lying for one day, God knows. Get out of this car."
CHAPTER TWO
When Vickie opened the door to Sharon's knock, she was entirely nude except for enormous gold hoop earrings and a pair of absurdly high heels.
The sheer beauty of the pink-white body with the jutting, coral-tipped breasts and the little pale-gold delta caused Sharon to catch her breath.
Vickie dropped to her knees in front of her, raised the hem of her skirt, and planted a long kiss on the lips of her cunt.
"There!" she said, jumping to her feet again. "Welcome home, darling!"
Sharon suddenly felt as if she were going to cry. She hadn't cried once during that entire endless year in prison, but now it was all she could do to keep back the tears.
"What's wrong?" Vickie said.
"I don't know," Sharon said. "It's just being home again, I guess."
"You need a drink," Vickie said, taking Sharon's arm and turning her in the direction of the couch. "Parole regulations or no parole regulations."
"I think you're right," Sharon said. "And not just one, either."
There was a pitcher and two brimming martini glasses on the cocktail table. Vickie picked up the glasses and handed one to Sharon. "We'd better sit down before we try these," she said. "They're pretty potent."
They sat down on the couch together, thigh to thigh.
"Of course, this is going to take the taste of you out of my mouth," Vickie said as she raised her glass. "We can always remedy that."
"And not tomorrow or the next day, either. I've never been so horny for you, Sharon. Honest."
Sharon laughed, and put her hand down between Vickie's legs. "Why, I declare," she said. "You are horny, aren't you?"
"You better stop," Vickie said. "I'm giving you fair warning. If you mean to finish that drink, you'd better stop right now."
"I'll just leave it there," Sharon said. "On the outside. All right?"
"Ummm," Vickie said. "There goes that fountain again."
Sharon sampled her martini, then drank until her glass was half-empty.
"Hey!" Vickie said. "Take it easy."
"That parole officer shook me up a little," Sharon said.
"A woman like that would shake anybody up. What'd she want, anyhow?"
"She just wanted to straighten me out on a few things."
"Like what?"
"It seems I have to give her half my salary at Chumley's."
"You're kidding!"
"I wish I were. She also wants me to be at her apartment tomorrow afternoon."
"But I was going to take you shopping."
"Not any more, I'm afraid." She finished her drink and took her hand from between Vickie's legs long enough to pour another.
"What was her name again?" Vickie said.
"Thornton. Joyce Thornton."
"She visit you in prison, or what?"
"Yes. She was there just once, for about five minutes."
"Well, she looks like an old bulldyke to me. She's got muscles all over her."
"I don't think so," Sharon said, settling back with her drink and putting her hand on Vickie's pussy again. "I got the impression she hates women."
"Or maybe it's just when they're so pretty," Vickie said. "Anyhow, she's a monster, dyke or no dyke. I never saw such a horse in my life."
"She warned me not to try to get my case reopened."
"It'd be hopeless, Sharon. You know that. Even your lawyer said so."
"It's ruined my life, Vickie. I'll have it hanging over me till the day I die."
"But there's nothing you can do about it, darling."
"Maybe not," Sharon said. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try." She sipped at her drink, remembering…
It had been a glorious day, very warm for May, and she could recall exactly what she had been wearing and the unusually good mood she'd been in. She'd been getting into her car in front of the apartment house when Mark Haley had come out and asked if she'd mind if he rode downtown with her. As they'd approached the Arcade, he'd asked her to wait while he ran inside to pick up a package at one of the stores. Five minutes later he'd been back, carrying a flat, black-fiber box.
There'd been nothing at all to indicate that anything was wrong. He'd seemed completely normal, alternately drumming on the box with his fingertips and making jokes, teasing her a little now and then, as if he couldn't quite decide whether he ought to make an all-out pass at her. She'd let him out on the corner of Lambert and Courtney Avenue, and driven on to her appointment in the Biedler Building.
And then, late that same night, Mark had…
"You're brooding about it, aren't you?" Vickie said.
"It's hard not to," Sharon said.
"You're only punishing yourself this way, baby," Vickie said, raising her hand to cup Sharon's breast. "You didn't have a thing to do with it, and everybody knows it."
"That's just it," Sharon said. "Nobody knows it. Only you and Mark Haley, Vickie."
"Wherever he is," Vickie said. She leaned forward to put her empty glass on the coffee table. "It's all so terrible," she said softly. "Let's don't talk about it any more. Please, darling. It's only upsetting you – and me too."
Sharon took a long swallow of her martini, then set her glass down beside Vickie's and got to her feet.
"You're right," she said, smiling. "It's absolutely not the way to celebrate a homecoming, is it?"