Last week we introduced you to Marylin Cane, an erotic author from Germany, as our newest member in the Arollo Boots family. We thank you all for giving Marilyn such a warm welcome. We are therefore delighted to offer you a excerpt from her latest novel, “Used by the Probation Officer.” The full story will be available in book form and as a download in just a few days. You’ll find out where and how right here with us.
Excerpt
“The defendant is sentenced to six months’ probation!” The judge’s voice was clear and distinct,
and I wasn’t quite sure whether to be happy that I didn’t have to go to prison or annoyed that I had been convicted at all. In his explanation of the verdict, he pointed out that the sentence was only suspended because I had never previously come to the attention of the police.
My lawyer shook my hand as if to congratulate me, so I suppose I had to be satisfied with the verdict;
if he was, then things had turned out well for me after all.
But it was an incredibly stupid thing I had done. I’d actually been supporting myself financially for years with small-time deals,
but offering drugs to an undercover cop in the city park was almost embarrassing. But most of my small business ventures were already legal. For example, I once served guests topless at a private erotic party, which was a little strange at first, but in the end it was a great party with very polite guests, and some of them were even less dressed than me. It was a really exciting evening, and I met some interesting people, and most of them were also very generous with their tips.
The requirement to report
With my current sentencing, I was required to report to my assigned probation officer once a week to discuss my progress toward a regular life and get advice from him. If he certified significant progress after three months, there was even the possibility that the remainder of my sentence would be suspended. So I proactively contacted the probation officer, and we arranged to meet every Saturday at 2 p.m., which suited me very well. I had no idea what to expect. Surely he was some kind of do-gooder who wanted to bring the lost sheep back to the right path. I didn’t care about that; I just wanted him to give me his weekly signature and stamp my form so I could finish the punishment as quickly as possible. I would tell him exactly what he wanted to hear and do what he expected.
The following Saturday, I was unusually punctual at the address. I paced nervously a few times in front of the house before ringing the doorbell. The door was opened shortly afterward. Werner introduced himself, and we sat down in his corner of the living room sofa. He asked me a bunch of questions, half of which were none of his business. He asked about my childhood, my education, what jobs I’d had. Most importantly for him was, what I envisioned for my future career.
These questions annoyed me, but what choice did I have but to endure them? So I answered them the way. I thought he wanted to hear, and after about an hour we were already done with the appointment. I also had the feeling that he wanted to finish on time so he could watch football. FinallyI got my signature and stamp and left his apartment.
For the next three weeks, the same thing happened again and again. He kept asking the same boring questions. And then he also wanted to know what I had done in the last week to get a real job. I made something up so that he was satisfied and I got my document filled out.
Something changed at the next meeting….
… But at our next appointment, something was different. When he opened the door, he wasn’t wearing jeans for the first time, but rather jogging pants that were oddly baggy in the front. His gaze was also much more fixed, almost greedy, as he looked at me and greeted me. And when we sat down in the living room, my whole world collapsed. “I did a little research on you,” Werner grinned at me lustfully, glancing at the television, where a still image was frozen, showing me in a short leather dress and high boots.
He had actually discovered one of my other youthful indiscretions. I had met a nice man at the erotic party who made porn films. He had offered me the chance to do one or two myself. And when money got tight again, I had agreed. I never would have thought that this would ever come back to haunt me. The porn production had been far too amateurish. I myself had believed that he would only use the porn for himself or a small circle. But he actually seemed to have uploaded it to some online platform.
Now he started the film again, grinned greedily at me, put his hand down his pants, and…
Don’t miss the release of the new novel next week!