Chloe in Prison Ch. 13

"Chloe, you are shaking: what is it?" Prana asked.

"I've just been to see Megan," I said.

"Megan?" said Prana: "Why?"

"I went to ask her if she could get me moved into your cell"

"You asked this?" said Prana, and her eyes lit up with a radiance that could have dwarfed the sun: "Chloe, what did she say?"

"She wouldn't do it," I said.

"Oh," said Prana, disappointed, but nodding as though it was after all inevitable. "Did she say why?"

"She said it would cost so much I would be paying her back for ten years," I said.

"Ten years?" said Prana. "That is a long time. Maybe if we pay together - no, it is not possible."

"She also said Rose deserved better from me."

Prana pouted slightly:

"Rose is very good to you," she said. "But she would understand."

"Well, it's irrelevant anyway," I said. "I'm sorry Prana, it can't be done."

"But Chloe," said Prana: "you tried. This means so much to me."

We hugged again. We put our noses together, then our foreheads, then our lips.

"She said one other thing," I said into Prana's ear. "She told me I wouldn't survive a week with you. What did she mean?"

Prana pulled back a little, and her face broke in a smile.

"I think, Chloe, she means we would rub each other to death."

We both started laughing.

"I think she's probably right," I said. "But I can't think of a way I would rather die."

Time was called on Showers, and once again we took our places in the line. I had wondered if Micky would show up again, and now I wondered if she had been watching me with Prana, but I did not see her again. Standing next to Rose with my towel around my shoulders, I was almost relieved I would not be changing cell: perhaps it was sour grapes, but part of me thought that maybe Megan was right: sharing with Prana would be like standing too close to a fire: before long, one or both of us would be burned.

I would have much to think about back in my cell: but the drama was far from over for the day.

As the double doors were opened, and we filed out into the corridor, I noticed that the piles of clothes had not been collected from outside the cells. Cell after cell we passed, and there, outside each door, were two small heaps of discarded clothes. And when we returned to our own cell, there were no clean clothes on our beds.

"Odd," said Rose. "They are always collected and replaced during Showers."

It was unusual, though hardly newsworthy - except than in prison every minute incident is something of an event. So we lay down on our beds naked: and after about half an hour we heard voices and footsteps in the corridor, along with the squeak of a wheel, all of which told us that the clothes were now being rounded up and put into the laundry trolley.

"They'll be round with clean clothes before long," said Rose.

Rose busied herself between her legs: maybe Margaret had been otherwise engaged in Showers, or maybe she'd merely whetted Rose's appetite: I didn't know, for Rose and I spent so much time cooped-up together we had a tacit agreement to go our separate ways at Exercise and Showers.

I stared at the ceiling, thinking. I felt bad, now, towards Rose, and little as I liked keeping things from her, I decided no good could come from letting her know what I'd done. I thought instead I would talk to her about Micky: but a few grunts from her bed told me that now was not the time.

"It feels so nice after Showers," she said presently, coming round. "You should try it. Or are you sated after Prana?"

"Actually, we didn't do anything except cuddle and talk," I said.

"How much is that costing you then?" Rose asked. Then: "Sorry: that was bitchy, I didn't mean it."

"I talked a lot to Micky as well," I said: and I'd just finished recounting Micky's story when a loud, shrill ringing sounded in the corridor.

"The Alarm," said Rose, suddenly alert.

"What does it mean?" The sound itself set off panic responses in my body.

"Could be a fire drill," said Rose: "they have them a couple of times a year. But something tells me it isn't. It could really be a fire. It could be a fight or a riot, or somebody trying to escape."

Rose, though alert, was reasonably calm; but I couldn't help myself: images of prison riots from newspapers and television started coursing through my mind: fears of being caught up in them; fears of being trapped in my cell. I was shaking uncontrollably.

"Calm down Chloe," said Rose: "The chances are it won't affect us at all."

The alarm continued: then we heard running feet, and voices in the corridor.

Clearly this was no fire drill. And no fire either, unless in some other part of the building. Rose and I stared at each other, listening intently. After a few minutes we thought we heard doors being slammed.

Then our door was flung open: Bradley looked inside, looked to either side of the door, looked under each of the metal bed-frames, and bustled out of the cell without a word.

"Seems like they're looking for something," said Rose. "Or someone."

I started to calm down. The alarm was still shrilling, but I was growing accustomed to the sound. Something was definitely up, though, and it was frustrating not knowing what.

Eventually the alarm snapped off, though it continued to ring in my ears. There were still footsteps in the corridor, but the atmosphere, as far as I could sense it, was less tense.

"Nothing we can do," said Rose.

I lay down again, all manner of scenarios running through my mind. Time passed. I grew hungry, and my stomach told me it was past our usual meal time.

"We have to shave," said Rose.

"If the prison was on fire you'd still make us shave," I said.

"No point taking chances. There's no guarantee we'll get any dinner tonight, so if we wait we might find the lights have gone out. Anyway, it'll take your mind off things."

So I held my treasured blue flannel under the tap, wetted my pussy, and let Rose do her stuff. I was about to return the favour when the door opened again, and Clark came in with a trolley, and handed us each a mug of tea and a hunk of bread and cheese.

"See they're pushing the boat out tonight," said Rose, frowning at the fare. "What was all the excitement about? One of the Wardens lost her virginity?"

"None of your business," said Clark, wheeling the trolley out again.

There was just time to shave Rose before we were plunged into darkness.