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Alfred Bombannente was a parole officer who worked for the city of San Francisco, and for the most part he did an excellent job of making sure paroled prisoners walked the straight and narrow. He did such a good job, and his methods were so completely effective, it was decided he would be moved from male parolees to female parolees. For some reason, women were harder to rehabilitate than men. In spite of Women’s’ Lib wanting to make certain there was no discrimination between the sexes, the state of California found no pleasure in sending women to prison, making them hard, bitter, and useless members of society. If anyone was capable of rehabilitating them, Al Bombannente was the man.
Al was a handsome looking fellow. He stood at five-feet-ten inches in height.
Al had dark-brown hair, cut short and combed straight back. He had a straight nose, a handsome face, and though he looked slightly roly-poly, under the little bit of excess weight he had a firm, solid body.
Al Bombannente hated no one. He was not the kind of man capable of carrying a grudge. By the same token he didn’t love anyone, either, because he knew love led to complications, especially in his line of work. To marry would mean to make himself, and his wife, vulnerable to attacks from the occasional dissident convict who didn’t want to be rehabilitated. Now that he was working with women, it would have been even more difficult, since a wife would have automatically been jealous.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.