Chloe in Prison Ch. 06

She squatted over me, facing my feet. Even her arse had muscles where most arses have flesh. She reached back and spread her cheeks, and lowered her anus directly over my mouth.

"Get licking," she said.

So I licked. All around her ring. Backwards and forwards and round and round, the rank smell of her in my nostrils, the taste of sweat and anus and traces of shit on my tongue. At one point her anus puckered and opened slightly, so my tongue unintentionally probed inside. I heard Hardiman grunt: and for an awful moment I thought she was going to shit on me: but her anus contracted again.

"That's enough," she said abruptly. "Now suck me off."

She turned around: unlike Dawes she was clean-shaven: she lowered her vagina onto my lips until my head was pressed down into the pillow and I thought my jaw was going to break. I screamed: muffled sounds came out: I tried to wriggle free. She rose just sufficient for me to breathe.

I got to work with my tongue, but it was hard going. I'd struggled a bit with Megan, but that was mostly down to inexperience and nerves. But even between the legs Hardiman seemed to be made of muscle rather than flesh. Her labia felt rubbery and hard: I sucked: it was like rolling gristle over my tongue. I couldn't understand how a woman could be built like this: then it came to me: steroids. That would explain her aggression too, I thought. But the knowledge was no help to me. I probed and licked, but she felt dry, I just could not get into a rhythm. I remembered Rose's words, about women with clits like pebbles who you could rub for an hour before they came. It would be a terrible irony if Hardiman, the butchest woman in the prison, turned out to be one of these.

I squeezed out more saliva. Hardiman was barking commands: harder; higher; not so high. Finally I seemed to hit the spot: she'd stopped giving orders and started grunting. The grunts came more rapidly: her fanny was grinding down on my mouth: I licked and sucked for all I was worth, willing her to come – and she finally obliged, climaxing fiercely and almost burying my face.

Even the hardest, least emotional women must feel some flush of warmth towards somebody who has just given them an orgasm. But Hardiman showed nothing: she just stood up and started putting on her uniform. I might have been a robot, or a vibrating machine. Not a half-friendly look, not an acknowledgement did she give. Until, with one hand on the door, she reached inside the front pocket of her jacket, pulled out a bar of chocolate, and tossed it down onto the bed.

She was gone before I could thank her. I clutched at the chocolate, looked at it in disbelief – then clasped it to my breast as though it were my newborn child.

I was still clutching the chocolate when Rose returned.

"You look as though you've been through it," she said. "Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. Then instead of answering I held out the chocolate bar.

"Chloe!" she exclaimed. "You got it. Oh, that's fantastic: and a whole bar!"

She came to the bed and hugged me.

"God Chloe," she said "I didn't really expect it. And a whole bar." Then a shadow ran across her face:

"Can I see it Chloe?" she said.

I handed over the chocolate, puzzled. Rose scrutinised the wrapper, then pushed out the foil-covered chocolate an inch or so, folded back a flap of the foil, and held it to her nose.

"It's OK," she said, smiling again. "It is real chocolate. After that misunderstanding in the showers I had to be sure."

"Eight squares," I said, for I had run my fingers over the wrapper and counted the outlines of the squares. Four for me to give Prana, and four for you."

"Oh no," said Rose. "You've earned it: and by the look of you it was hard earned. You keep the other four."

"If it wasn't for you there wouldn't be any chocolate," I said. "You take the other four."

"No," said Rose. "But if you take my advice you won't eat any yet. There are things more worth having than chocolate. Take it with you this afternoon and see if you can get some shampoo. The rate is usually two squares for one of those little bottles. If you get some shampoo I won't say no to a squeeze."

"I'll do that," I said, already making up my mind to get one bottle for myself and one for Rose. Then I hastily shoved the chocolate under my pillow as the lunch trolley clattered through the door.

After lunch I felt better. I brushed my teeth to try to get rid of the lingering taste of Hardiman's anus, and then I managed to fall asleep. When I awoke Rose told me to put on my clothes.

"Exercise isn't like showers," she said. "You won't get everybody groping you: for a start, everyone has to wear their uniform; for another it's often too cold. We use it more as a chance to barter: everyone who wants to trade takes their stuff there."

"How do we carry things?" I asked, for there were no pockets in our uniforms.

"You can carry them in your hands," said Rose: "it's not against the rules to trade. But sometimes it's better to keep things hidden, not let on what you've got. You can put stuff inside your bra or down your knickers. Or down your socks at a pinch. I'd put the chocolate inside your knickers, it's more secure. Just make sure it doesn't melt. Oh, and watch out for contraband."

"What's contraband?"

"Stuff that's been taken from the kitchens. The women who work there are searched before they leave, but they find ways. Just remember: if you fancy a carrot it's probably been inside somebody's fanny."

So when the cell doors were unlocked I stuffed the chocolate down the front of my knickers and joined the line of women in the corridor.

As before showers there was a buzz of excitement in the air. We were marched down a succession of corridors, through doors I'd never been through before, until I felt sharp, fresh air on my face, and we were outside.

It was almost a week since I had seen natural light, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. It was a fresh sort of day, with clouds chasing each other across the March sunshine. My bare legs felt chilled, but pleasantly so. It hit me with a pang of regret: what I had been missing all this time.

The Exercise Yard was a wire cage, about the size of four tennis courts. Wire mesh sides about twelve feet high supported a wire mesh roof. The Wardens were again out in force: when everybody had entered the pen, Dawes locked the steel doors. A couple of foam footballs were available, and some of the girls started tossing them around. There was chatter and excitement and an aura of pent-up energy being released. Some of the women were cuddling: a few paired off, took themselves off to the far end, and began kissing and sticking their hands up each-other's skirts.

Rose had drifted away with some friends. I looked for Prana, but could not see her in the throng. I decided to walk around the perimeter, for no other reason than the fact that I could, and was half-way round when Wilson, the skinhead, made a bee line for me.

"So what you brought me?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"That's not very friendly, is it?" she said, and now that Rose had mentioned it I noticed the gap in her top front teeth. "Nothing in your bra or knickers then?"

"Get off me," I said, as she put her arms round me from behind and started patting my tits."

"Make me," she said nastily. Then roughly she pushed up my skirt, groped inside my knickers and yanked out my chocolate bar.

"Give that back, it's mine," I cried.

"Finders keepers," she said with a nasty grin. "A whole bar too: it's my lucky day."

"Please give it me back," I said, tears coming to my eyes.

"Oh, it's 'please' now is it?" she said. "Not a chance darling."

She would have walked away with it, but in desperation I snatched at the chocolate, and managed to regain it. I would have run, but quick as lightening she grabbed my arm and began to twist it.

"Let go of the chocolate or I'll break your stupid little arm," she growled.

"I can't," I wailed: "I've promised half of it to Prana. If you take it she'll tell Megan and there'll be a riot."

"Are you threatening me?" Wilson demanded.

"No," I protested, "I'm just telling you the truth. Look, I'll give you half. If you take half and leave me half I won't say anything. I promise."

Wilson glowered at me: her face creased with a succession of thoughts like the face of a child struggling with algebra. She'd already wrested the chocolate from me: now, abruptly, she snapped it in two, tore the wrapping off one of the halves, and, making sure I was watching, broke it into four and one after another crammed all four squares in her mouth. When she had chewed and swallowed them, she frowned at the other half then thrust it back at my chest.

"I've had my finger up you," she said. "Just remember that."

I turned and ran away.

"Watch Out!" somebody shouted.

"Catch it!" shouted somebody else. A foam football came sailing towards me, hit me on the shoulder and bounced away. "Come and join in," called a woman I half-recognised from the showers.

"Later," I called. There was nothing I fancied more than a mad chase after a ball, but I could hardly run with the chocolate in my knickers, and I desperately wanted to give it to Prana before anymore mishaps could occur. I wormed my way through a cluster of women who were haggling over items laid out on the ground. I saw packets of biscuits, an orange, hair-slides and hair-bands, shampoo and perfume, a hair brush, chocolate and crisps. I looked for someone I could recognise, but with their hair dry and their uniforms on everybody looked unfamiliar.

"My my, aren't you a girl's wet dream, even with your clothes on?" someone said, as an arm was coiled around my waist. "Fancy earning a hairband?"

"Maybe later," I said.

"She'd rather have a banana, wouldn't you love?" said a second woman, of about sixty."

"Wouldn't we all!" exclaimed the first.

I twisted away, and found Prana chatting at the end of the pen, with Megan and a few others.

"Chloe," she said, running towards me. Again she gave that little hands-together bow of greeting, which I returned.

"Chloe: it is so good to see you," she said. "But you are looking unhappy: why is this?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her: but I'd promised Wilson I would say nothing, and dreaded the trouble that might ensue if I broke my word.

"It's nothing," I said: "just a bit of a row."

"A bit of a row? Is this anything we can help with?"

"No, Prana," I said. "It's nothing: I'm fine now."

"That is good," said Prana: and she put her arms around me and gave me a hug.

"I've got something for you," I said. And I reached down into my knickers and pulled out the chocolate."

"Chloe, this is wonderful, thank you," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "I love chocolate, I cannot have too much."

She waved the chocolate at Megan, who was leaning against the mesh – I had a hunch that Megan never played ball. The other women nodded at me.

"It's so good to see you Prana," I said.

"You too Chloe, you too," Prana said. "And now I must eat a piece of this lovely chocolate you've brought for me."

She held the bar up to her nose and sniffed sensuously, closing her eyes as she did so. Then she peeled back the wrapper, and the foil. And then her expression changed.

At first she frowned in puzzlement; then, as she peeled back the wrapper completely and held the chocolate in front of her, her face turned into a mask of rage.

"Why have you given me this shit?" she demanded. "You tried to cheat me: you are a sick, poisonous little girl."

Before I could get out a word, before I could even take in what was happening, a stinging slap caught me on the cheek, and I was so take aback I fell backwards onto the ground.

"Cheat; scum; fucking little bitch:" Prana was screaming at me like a fury: her hair was wild, her eyes were blazing, and following up the blow she threw the bar of chocolate at me then hurled herself on top of me, pinned me down with her knees either side of my head, grabbed hold of my hair and was screaming insults into my face, shaking my head, spitting at me like a tigress whose cubs have been threatened.

"Help me," I yelled: I had absolutely no idea what I'd done, only that this girl who seconds ago had been my friend was spitting insults at me and trying to tear out my hair. I twisted my head: I saw Rose running towards us: then another figure was on the scene: a strong hand gripped Prana's wrist, an arm was hooked around Prana's waist and she was lifted clean off me, still screaming, and restrained.

I was too stunned to move. Rose was kneeling by my side, asking me if I was alright; my face stung, my hair was dishevelled, my skirt had ridden up to my waist, and a crowd of women had gathered at the scene.

"Now what's this all about?" asked Megan, who still had a restraining arm around Prana.

"I don't know," I wailed. "She just turned on me for no reason."

"She tried to trick me," shouted Prana, who was panting heavily. "She owed me chocolate: she tried to give me that shit instead."

"I gave you chocolate," I cried. "What's wrong with it?"

"The bitch tried to give me laxative," Prana yelled.

"What?" I exclaimed.

Rose picked up the chocolate. She looked at it, sniffed at it, and looked puzzled. Prana snatched it out of her hand, and brandished it in front of the watching crowd.

"It looks like chocolate," she said. "But it is laxative. Look at the markings."

Megan took the chocolate, let go of Prana, and examined the bar.

"It's laxative chocolate," she said, giving me a very hard look.

"I didn't know," I protested. "I had no idea."

"Show me," said Rose.

Megan showed her the chocolate: "Here," she said, pointing: "it looks like ordinary chocolate: you can tell by the imprint here. We've seen them before."

"But it's in an ordinary wrapper," said Rose.

"Somebody's switched them," shrugged Megan: again she gave me a look that chilled me to the core.

"She switched them," said Prana, extending her arm and pointing at me. "Stinking little bitch switched them to cheat me."

"Let her speak," said Megan.

"I didn't know," I said. "I didn't switch wrappers, how could I? I had no idea. Hardiman gave it to me. Honestly," I went on, tears in my eyes. "I wouldn't cheat anybody least of all Prana. I swear I didn't know."

Megan and Prana looked at each other. Megan said to Rose:

"Is this true?"

"Yes," said Rose. "Hardiman gave her the chocolate. She had no idea what it was. I looked at it myself: I had no idea either."

"Get up," said Megan.

Rose helped me to my feet.

"She's telling the truth," said Megan. Prana looked down at her feet; she began twisting her hands, one hand in the other: she looked like a shamefaced child who has just been caught doing wrong.

"Chloe," she said. "I am sorry. I thought you tried to cheat me."

"I would never cheat you," I said, sobbing.

"I know that now: but so many people lie and cheat: I have a nasty temper when I think someone is trying to cheat me. I am truly sorry."

"It's all right," I said.

Her head still bowed Prana came up to me: then she looked up at me, and touched her hand to my cheek. I flinched.

"I've hurt you Chloe: can you ever forgive me?"

"Yes," I said. "I understand: if I'd been you I'd have done the same."

"You are very understanding Chloe: but you do not tell truth: if you had been me you would not have done this, because you are a much, much better person than I."

"Prana," said. "I'm just glad we've cleared things up." I put my arms round her and we hugged. Over Prana's shoulder I saw Rose watching me, looking displeased.

"I'll get you some proper chocolate Prana," I said, letting go.

"No no," said Prana. "No chocolate. Finished."

"OK, "I said.

We separated. I think we both felt very sheepish. I wasn't sure what to do next when Megan fixed me with another of her looks and said:

"How much chocolate did Hardiman give you?"

I hesitated, because I could see at once where this might lead, but there was no way of avoiding it.

"A bar," I said.

"A bar. Eight squares?"

"Yes."

"So where are the other four squares?"

Again I hesitated.

"I gave them to somebody," I said.

"Who?"

"I can't say," I said.

Both Megan and Prana stirred at this.

"Chloe," said Prana, a little less warmly: "this is important: because if you ate any of that chocolate you would have known it was laxative, and then if you still gave this to me – "

"She didn't," said Rose sharply. "She had the whole bar with her when we came out. She was going to try to trade for shampoo. Besides, if she knew it was laxative she'd hardly try to palm it off on you."

"OK," said Prana. "I am only asking."

"Is that what you did," asked Rose: "trade for shampoo?"

"No," I said.

"Chloe," said Prana: "you must tell us: if somebody has this chocolate and doesn't realise it is laxative there will be much trouble."

"I gave it to somebody. That is, somebody took it off me. But I promised I wouldn't tell."

"Who took it Chloe?" Megan's expression left me in no doubt I had to tell.

"Wilson," I said.

"Wilson?" exclaimed Prana. "Wilson the skinhead?"

Megan whistled, long and low.

"Yes," I said. And then I told the whole story, how Wilson had cornered me, how I had only managed to keep half the bar by telling her it was for Prana.

"Chloe," said Prana: "what did Wilson do with the chocolate?"

"She ate it," I said.

"All four squares?" asked Rose.

"Yes," I said. "She stuffed it into her mouth in front of me and swallowed it."

Prana and Megan looked at each other. For the first time since I'd known her a semblance of a grin cracked Megan's face. Rose too was smiling. But Prana was literally jumping up and down with delight.

"Chloe," she said. "This is brilliant. This is wonderful. She will shit her pants. She will shit herself day and night. She will shit out all her fat racist guts. Chloe, you are a genius: this is the best thing that has ever happened in prison." She came up to me and hugged me over and again, an expression of mischievous, childlike glee on her face. The few women who had remained after the fight was over were also laughing. I couldn't help being buoyed up by their excitement - but I was scared as well.

"She'll kill me when she finds out," I said.

"No Chloe," said Prana. "She thinks I had half the chocolate, so when she comes to me I will say I ate it and was OK. Maybe I'll say Megan had a square and was OK?" She turned to Megan for confirmation, and Megan nodded. "She is very stupid Chloe: she will think the Wardens put laxative in her lunch – sometimes they do this."

"She's not that stupid," said Rose. "Even she will make the connection."

"If she does, what can she say?" said Prana. "She took the chocolate – Chloe did not want to give it to her. Chloe will be safe."

"That's easy for you to say," said Rose. "It's not your neck on the block."

"Wilson won't touch her," said Megan.

I breathed a little easier:

"How long does it take to act?" I asked.

"One square, about half and hour," said Megan. "Four squares – who knows?"

"Where is Wilson?" asked Rose. We looked around, and quickly spotted the bulky skinhead amongst the ballplayers. Even as I looked I saw her barge into one of the West Indian girls, and any vestige of charity I might have felt towards her disappeared.

"There'll be fireworks soon," said Rose.

In fact it seemed as though the fireworks were about to begin: for once, then a second time, Wilson paused in her pursuit of the ball, leaned forward, touched her hands to her belly, and looked around, puzzled. "Ball," somebody shouted, as the ball headed her way: but instead of making for the ball, she turned her back on the game and began lumbering towards the furthest corner of the pen. There was only one person in the vicinity – Fatima, the Muslim girl, who was crouched against the wire with her head to her knees. Wilson pulled her up by the shoulder and shoved her away; then she yanked urgently at her skirt and struggled to get her knickers off. In her haste her knickers caught around one ankle, she half lost her balance, put out a hand to steady herself: and then, although it was too far away to hear her distinctly, we could tell from a curse and an angry gesture that it was too late. She steadied herself, leaning into the corner of the pen, looked down at her knickers which were still trapped around one ankle: and then the bottom began to drop out of her world. Gathering her skirt around her waist, she shat again. Prana was delirious with joy: