Rehabilitation System

Phil didn’t fully hear him. His eyes had gone to a swishy young man flouncing around the open-cubicle room the probation officers worked in. He seemed to be some sort of mail clerk. Phil had seen him in a gay bar on 4th Street, though—more than once. And he’d left with different guys—all obvious tops—each time. Phil wanted him for the movies. He’d make for variety, especially if he squealed when he was penetrated.

“Excuse me? What were you saying?” Phil asked.

“Your rehabilitation has gone well. A classic case of success. You came through your imprisonment well, have kept your nose clean, and are back running your jewelry store. It’s a breath of fresh air against so many other cases where a man has come out of prison a more hardened criminal than he went in.”

“Yes, I’m grateful for the system having brought me back on the path and rehabilitated me so well,” Phil said, his eyes still following the flighty young man around the vast room of shelf-high cubicle walls. His mind was planning how he would blackmail and fuck the mail clerk to the best advantage on a film for his Internet subscription site. Maybe in a side split, holding one of his legs straight up and showing his thick cock working in and out of his small hole, Phil thought. The clients would eat that up. But should he do it before or after he went up to northern New York to unload the necklace he had bought from Jack along with other pieces he had acquired on the sly?