Chloe in Prison Ch. 06
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Day Four continued. Day Five
“So,” said Rose a while later: “How’re you feeling?”
“Blitzed,” I said. “Completely and utterly knocked out. And sore.”
“Understandable,” said Rose. “But you did yourself proud in there.”
“Did I?” I asked. “I thought I made too much fuss.”
“Chloe: I’ve seen girls kicking and screaming and crying their eyes out during their initiation. And for a long time afterwards. You did brilliantly. And the women respect you for it.”
“Well – that’s good to know,” I said.
“And you dealt with Megan. I didn’t see much of you afterwards, what were you up to?”
I told Rose about Wilson.
“She’s a nasty piece of work,” said Rose. “A racist and a bully. In fact she’s in here for racist crimes. She usually picks on foreigners: but anyone weak or vulnerable will do. She’s got a small group of hangers-on, but hardly anyone likes her. Best steer clear of her.”
“She doesn’t seem to like Megan much,” I said, and told Rose what she’d said.
“They can’t stand each other,” said Rose. “Did you notice Wilson’s missing front tooth?”
“I can’t say I did,” I said, trying to recall that tight-lipped, unpleasant smile.
“Megan did that,” said Rose. “They had a fight. Only it wasn’t much of a fight, because Wilson likes to pretend she’s hard whereas Megan is genuinely hard. Still, Wilson’s jealous, because she’d like to be top dog: and one day Megan called her bluff. I think it came to a head over one of the Indian girls: Wilson had been bullying her, she went to Megan to complain.”
“I’ll keep well away,” I said.
Mention of an Indian girl brought to mind Prana: but something held me back from mentioning her to Rose. When I thought about this, later that night, I realised I felt ever so slightly guilty – as though in some way I had betrayed Rose. I knew this was silly: I’d learned very quickly that in prison everyone took their sexual pleasure whenever they could with whoever they could: Rose herself had told me, without a hint of jealousy, that everybody would want a piece of me. It was the fact that I’d enjoyed it that worried me, and made me feel the special pleasure I’d taken with Rose was no longer unique. So it wasn’t until the following morning, when I’d realised that I was being over-sensitive, and that Rose would find out anyway, that I spilled the beans.
“I almost forgot to tell you,” I said, shortly after breakfast: “I earned four squares of chocolate yesterday.”
“You did what?” said Rose, who had her hand between her legs as usual. “That’s amazing – I wonder you had the time. Did Megan give you some then?”
“No, not Megan – somebody else.”
“Who?” asked Rose – so intrigued by now her hand had stopped moving.
“Prana,” I said.
“Prana?” asked Rose: she took her hand away altogether and turned towards me.
“Little Indian girl, about my age,” I said, “very pretty.”
“Yes,” said Rose. “I know who Prana is. But unless there are two identical Pranas I very much doubt she gave you four squares of chocolate. Are you absolutely sure about this?”
“Certain,” I said. “I was surprised myself: I thought she’d try and beat me down.”
“Chloe:” said Rose: and suddenly she was sitting up on her bed looking very serious: “there’s something not right about this. Other people pay Prana for sex. She does not pay for sex. And definitely not four squares. People don’t even pay Prana four squares.”
“But she did,” I said, almost doubting my own judgement. “She told me she liked me and she wanted to have sex with me. I mean, I am young and – well, you told me yourself that everybody would want me.”
“Chloe: I want you to think very carefully and tell me exactly what happened.”
“Well, Prana came up to me – after I’d been in the shower – and she told me I had nice breasts, and I told her she had nice breasts, and then she said she’d like to have sex with me and would I like to have sex with her, and I thought a bit, as I didn’t really, but Wilson had just been bullying me and – “
“Never mind Wilson – what exactly did you and Prana say?”
“So I said yes. Then I thought of what you’d said to me, and I said ‘Four squares of chocolate?’ And she looked at me a bit oddly and said ‘Yes Four Squares.” So we – we had sex.”
“And who brought who off?”
“We brought each other off,” I said, starting to feel a bit embarrassed. First she brought me off with her hand, then I sucked her off. Then she said ‘Thank you Chloe, that was a nice surprise'”.
“And that’s it? What about the chocolate?”
“When she left me she said ‘See you with the chocolate in the Exercise Yard’.”
“Chloe you fool! You utter fool. Oh you stupid, stupid –”
“What have I done?” I cried. I had never seen Rose angry like this.
“What have you done? Chloe: Prana didn’t pay you four squares of chocolate: you paid her!”
“What?” I said.
“How could you be such a little fool?”
“But that’s crazy,” I said. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Didn’t it ever occur to you as strange that the prettiest girl in the whole prison Nevşehir Escort should offer to pay you four squares of chocolate? Well didn’t it?”
“It was a surprise, but then I didn’t think –”
“You have to think, Chloe. In here you have to have your wits about you all the time. Didn’t I tell you that if you were lucky you might get half a square?”
“But she was so nice,” I said. “She came on to me: she wanted it more than I did.”
“You are so naïve it’s not true,” said Rose. “Of course she came on to you. Of course she flattered you. That’s part of her technique. What do you expect her to do: say ‘I think you stink, but do you want to have sex with me anyway?'”
I thought back over the whole incident: I just couldn’t square what had happened with Rose’s version. Prana had liked me. Even if I had inadvertently offered to pay her, I was sure she had liked me.”
“She liked me,” I said defensively.
“Well maybe she did,” said Rose. The two things aren’t mutually exclusive. Maybe she did think you had lovely breasts: that still doesn’t alter the fact that you owe her four squares of chocolate.”
“I’ll explain,” I said. “She was sweet – she’ll understand.”
“Sweet?” Rose almost screamed. “This is prison Chloe, nobody’s sweet here. You’re not discussing Henry the Eight with a bunch of Undergraduates: everybody in this place is screwed, Chloe. Some of them may be eighty percent decent or even ninety per cent decent: but somewhere they’ve all got a screw loose. That’s why they’re here. They’ve done something wrong: seriously wrong. They’ve stabbed somebody or robbed somebody or set fire to something. Sweet? I’ll tell you how sweet Prana is: do you know what she did before she came here?”
“No,” I said apprehensively.
“I’ll tell you,” said Rose. “She worked in a massage parlour: she had a row with one of the other girls, something about stealing a client: and she gouged out one of this girl’s eyes.
“So what do you think she’ll do to you when you turn up in the Exercise Yard and tell her you don’t have any chocolate because you thought she was paying you? Well?”
“Oh God,” I said. “Oh God Rose: what have I done?”
I started to shake: first my shoulders shook; then my hands and jaw shook; then my head and then my whole body were shaking. Rose was still staring at me in disbelief. Then she put her hand to her chin.
“You are in shit up to here,” she said.
“Rose,” I said, “please don’t be angry, please, I don’t know what to do.”
“Neither do I,” said Rose.
“Oh God, Rose: when is Exercise?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” said Rose. “So you’ve got just over twenty-four hours to get your hands on some chocolate.”
For a while Rose would not speak to me. I lay on my bed shaking. Then I kicked my legs up and down on the bed in frustration, over and over and over. Then I cried.
Then the door opened and Clark and Bradley came in with lunch.
“What’s up with misery guts,” said Clark.
“She had a hard time in the showers yesterday,” said Rose.
“Hard time?” snorted Clark. “I thought she had it easy. She needs to toughen up.”
“You’re all heart Officer Clark,” said Rose. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any chocolate going spare?”
“In your dreams,” said Clark.
“You want chocolate you lick my arse,” said Bradley.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this yesterday?” asked Rose when they’d gone.
“I don’t know,” I sobbed.
“It would have given us more time. Now eat your lunch before it gets cold.”
Since lunch was a cold cheese sandwich this was Rose’s attempt at a joke, but I was too miserable to respond. I was also too miserable to eat, and though I sipped half-heartedly at the tea I ignored the food.
“Chloe: eat,” said Rose.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Chloe: no-one can think straight on an empty stomach: I’m not going to talk this through with you until you’ve eaten.”
So I ate a joyless lunch.
“Alright,” said Rose. “I’ve stopped being angry. Now pull yourself together.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
“The good thing is,” said Rose, “you told me. If you hadn’t, and you’d gone to Exercise tomorrow – well, we’d best not think about that.”
“Supposing I explained to Prana,” I said, “and asked for more time? Offered to pay in instalments. Offered her double or something?”
“And how are you going to explain the mistake without insulting her?”
“I could say I thought I had chocolate but I didn’t. Or that somebody took it.”
“Chloe: you’re a very bad liar, and in any case that is the most transparent lie you could tell. Don’t go there: you’ll make a bad situation worse.”
“Rose: if I confronted her: if I told her I’d made a mistake, and refused to let her bully me if she got angry – would you – be with me?”
“As back up you mean?” asked Rose.
“I suppose so,” I said – though even as I was saying this I was shaking with terror at the prospect, and knew there was not the slightest chance of carrying it through.
“Chloe: you’d have about as much chance as a laboratory Nevşehir Escort Bayan rabbit against a polecat. And just suppose you got a million to one break – let’s say she slipped and knocked herself out – who do you think would back her up?”
“I don’t know – one of the other Indian girls I suppose.”
“Megan,” said Rose.
“That’s right,” said Rose. “Prana was the girl who went to Megan after Wilson threatened her.”
“I’m dead,” I said. “Rose: what on earth am I going to do?”
“You’ve got to get hold of some chocolate,” said Rose: “by whatever means it takes.”
“What if I was sick?” I asked. “Could I get out of Exercise?”
“If anybody believed you, you’d be taken to the prison doctor,” said Rose. “She’d stick a thermometer up your arse and if it read less than a hundred you’d be told to stop malingering. Forget it: cleverer people than you have tried it and failed.”
“Well, supposing I went to Megan,” I said: “and explained, and asked her?”
“If you ask Megan for chocolate for services rendered you’d better write your Will first.”
“I don’t mean that – I mean as a loan.”
“It’s a possibility,” said Rose. “She does make loans. But I don’t recommend it: you’d be in hock to her for the rest of your term – and in ways you can’t predict.”
“Rose, I’ll suck her off every Showers if that’s what it takes,” I exclaimed.
“Would you move into her cell?”
“What? No of course not! Surely they wouldn’t allow it? You told me prisoners rarely got moved.”
“Megan has a lot of pull – even with the Wardens. You look in her cell you’ll see things you won’t see anywhere else: paper, books, playing cards. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Moving in might be her condition for a loan.”
“For four lousy squares of chocolate?”
“Four squares of chocolate that might just save your life.”
“I couldn’t do it,” I said.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Rose. “Because you won’t just be sucking her off every shower day, you’ll be locked up with her at her beck and call every day and night. And if you do something to annoy her you’ll find yourself upside down with your head in the slops.”
Instinctively I put my hands to my face.
“No,” said Rose. “Megan is a very last resort. Besides, you won’t see her until Exercise and by then it may be too late. And that applies to all the other prisoners. No: your best hope is one of the Wardens. And your best hope amongst them is Raymond. She might, she just might, help. It’s a huge ask, and you’ll be in her debt for a long time: but that’s better than being in hock to Megan.”
“I’ll do anything,” I said.
“Alright,” said Rose. “The trouble is, we don’t know when we’ll see Raymond again. There’s no regular rota that I’ve ever been able to work out, it’s hit and miss who turns up when. If Raymond comes with dinner, I’ll talk to her. But this has got to be sorted today: tomorrow’s too late. Even if you saw Raymond at breakfast it’s unlikely she could be back with chocolate in time.”
I spent a very anxious afternoon. I paced the four paces between the washbasin and the door until Rose practically screamed at me to stop. Rose insisted on shaving me – it seemed you could be at death’s door but shaving had to go on – though this time there was no happy ending. I was in too much of a state to shave Rose.
At long last the door opened: it was Bradley and Clark.
“You don’t seem very pleased to see us,” said Clark, as my face fell. “And here we’ve brought you a lovely stew.”
“Officer Clark,” said Rose, when the tepid bowls had been handed out. “May I speak to you frankly?”
“No rule against speaking,” said Clark.
“The thing is,” said Rose: “my cellmate is very unhappy.”
“She expect a holiday camp?” asked Bradley.
“No: but she’s desperate for some chocolate. That’s why she was crying yesterday. In fact she’d do anything for some chocolate. Anything at all.”
There was no mistaking Rose’s meaning. Clark looked at her and worked her jaw, as though she was chewing gum.”
“Are you her puppet?” she asked.
“No Officer Clark,” said Rose.
“Then let her speak for herself.”
Clark looked at me expectantly.
“Please Sir,” I said. “Rose is right: I’d do anything for some chocolate. Anything you or Officer Bradley wished.”
“Don’t you just love it when they beg,” grinned Clark to Bradley. “What do you reckon Officer Bradley: you tempted?”
“No,” said Bradley. “Little white druggy girls ain’t my type.”
“Mine neither,” said Clark. “Besides, it’s more than my job’s worth.”
“What do you mean?” asked Rose.
“What I mean,” said Clark, “is that Officer Hardiman has first call.”
I would have given up. I would have crawled under the blankets and hoped never to come out. But Rose said:
“Then would you please give Officer Hardiman a message, Officer Clark?”
“You’re asking a lot today Mason,” said Clark. “What’s the message?”
“Please will you tell her Chloe Littlehayes is desperate Escort Nevşehir for a bar of chocolate, and she’ll do anything to get one. Anything at all.”
“Suppose I tell her: what do I get in return?”
“Anything it’s in my power to give you,” said Rose.
“All right Mason: I’ll deliver your message. And I’ll be back for payment sometime soon.”
“Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” said Rose, when the two Wardens were safely out of the cell. “Still, at least they agreed to take a message.”
“Rose: how can I thank you?” I said.
“Chances are you won’t have anything to thank me for,” said Rose. “This is a long-shot, Chloe. Don’t kid yourself otherwise. But it’s the only shot we have.”
Day Six: Exercise
I passed my worst night in prison so far, sleeping, waking, drifting in and out of fitful dreams. In the morning I slopped-out like a zombie, let Rose eat my breakfast, and barely noticed when Mrs Tiggywinkle came in to inspect my shave. The morning drew on, and my spirits sank lower and lower. Rose and I could think of nothing to say. I’d never been religious: but as I lay on my bed I silently prayed. Please, please, if you are there God, please let Hardiman come. It must have been the first time in the history of Sparsebrook Prison that someone had prayed for a visit from Hardiman.
To this day I don’t know if anybody was listening. But at what I suppose must have been around noon, the door clanged open and Hardiman appeared.
“You, Mason,” she said to Rose. “The passage wants sweeping: get out.”
Just behind Hardiman I could see Bradley hovering with a broom. Rose got up promptly and left the cell. Hardiman closed the door. We were alone and my heart quailed.
“One of my Officers brought me a message,” said Hardiman, who seemed to fill up half the cell. “She says you asked her to deliver it: is that correct?”
“Yes Sir,” I said.
“I don’t take kindly to being interrupted by messages,” said Hardiman. “Especially messages asking for favours.”
“No Sir,” I said.
“I decide if and when I give chocolate to prisoners,” said Hardiman. “And if I want you I’ll come for you whenever I please.”
“I’m sorry Sir,” I said. My last hope had died away: my life was as good as over.
“All right, get your clothes off,” said Hardiman.
“Are you deaf Littlehayes? Get your kit off. NOW!”
I ripped my clothes off so fast a button tore off my shirt. Slowly, and with far more dignity, Hardiman too undressed. Naked, she was even more terrifying than clothed: her muscles were those of a bodybuilder: bulging; unnatural; hard. She stood up, towering and menacing: even her breasts seemed like weapons, a blow from one of which could put out your eye.
“Stand against the wall,” she said. I stood in the space at the bottom of my bed and backed against the side wall. Hardiman placed herself in front of me, her face just inches from mine.
“You want a bar of chocolate?” she asked.
I no longer knew what to say.
“Well: do you?”
“Yes Sir,” I said.
“Then suppose we fight for it,” Hardiman said. “You and me. No weapons, no back-up. You beat me, you get a bar of chocolate. What about it?”
I looked up, at the muscled biceps and shoulders, the bulging neck, the granite face towering about a foot above mine. I felt the wall, cold against my back. I was in a living nightmare. No words would come out of my mouth.
Suddenly Hardiman thrust her right hand between my legs: I was too terrified to cry out. I felt the pressure down there increase: and then I found my feet were no longer touching the ground. The expression on Hardiman’s face grew grimmer: her arm and shoulder were tensed: I could see the muscles rippling as slowly I began to rise into the air. My back chafed against the wall; the pressure on my vagina grew. Hardiman’s lips were clenched: I was looking down on her head: I stretched my arms forward, was about to rest my hands on her crew-cut to stop myself falling forward, but checked myself, and regained my balance by leaning back against the wall.
My head was touching the ceiling. Hardiman’s arm was outstretched, braced firm. Then the ceiling was pressing against the top of my head. I thought my head was going to crack open: I bent it forward, and then the pressure transferred to my neck.
Then Hardiman stopped. I hung there, suspended, my legs dangling, my head bowed, all my weight compressed into my vagina, onto Hardiman’s hand and arm. Her arm began to tremble: there was sweat on her forehead. A new terror gripped me, the terror of being dropped. I started to panic, to reach out for Hardiman’s head. Slowly Hardiman lowered her arm: when I was about two feet in the air she collapsed her arm altogether, and I dropped to the ground. Because Hardiman was so close to me there was nowhere to fall, so I stood, propped against the wall. Hardiman put her head close to mine: I could feel her breath on my face.
“I could crush you with one hand,” she said. “Don’t ever forget that,”
“I won’t,” I managed to mumble. “I mean ‘I won’t Sir’.”
Hardiman stood back, and began to rub and rotate her right arm.
“Now get on the bed,” she said.
I lay down: I thought I had gone to sleep and woken up in hell.
“‘I’ll do anything'” didn’t you say?” she asked unpleasantly. “You can start by cleaning my arse.”
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