Chloe in Prison Ch. 15

"I know Rose. I don't understand it really."

"This place does strange things to people," said Rose. "We all go peculiar in our different ways. You seem better this morning though."

"I'm looking forward to Showers," I said.

"I know that," said Rose. "But then, aren't we all?"

The morning couldn't pass quickly enough, and I was very pleased when lunch arrived. It was wheeled in by Hackett, who had made several appearances since Wilkes had gone into hospital. I was very wary of her, and, mindful of her way with prisoners with 'long faces' I had made a point of trying to look pleasant whenever I saw her. So far, though, she had barely spoken to us, let alone reprimanded us.

Lunch came with a handful of grapes, which we shared out equally, and managed to eke out over about half an hour.

At last there were sounds of activity in the corridor, and the call came for Showers. We dumped our old clothes and towels in a heap outside our cell, and stood in the queue. Soon we were shuffling forwards towards the doors.

Once inside I began to search for Prana. We'd had so little time together at Exercise, and that time had been so clouded by Parker's punishment, I was burning to see her, even if only briefly to confirm a rendezvous after we'd had our showers. I looked all around, except under the showers themselves where cells one to six were already standing, but I could not see her. I saw Fatima and Micky, Fran, Margaret, the Andrew Sisters, and many more, glancing and scanning the groups of women rapidly, systematically working my way backwards and forwards across the whole area.

I was starting to worry. I caught Rose, and asked:

"Have you seen Prana? I can't find her anywhere."

"I haven't," said Rose. "Try asking around."

I glanced at a bench not far from the showers. Three women were sat there: Megan flanked by her two friends. Something about them put me in mind of three witches, or three fates, and I baulked at speaking to them; but if anyone knew where to find Prana I thought Megan would.

I went up to them.

"Do you know where Prana is?" I asked.

They stared at me silently. Then the sour-faced woman with the lank hair spoke.

"You can suck me off," she said.

My heart skipped a beat.

"OK," I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could fake. "But I've got to find Prana first."

"Now," said the woman, catching hold of my hand.

There was no help for it. The woman stood up, and I knelt down. The flesh on her legs was loose and blotchy, and she had the longest, fleshiest labia I'd ever seen. They hung down between her legs like turkeys' wattles. I braced myself and drew them into my mouth. She smelt of dead fish: as though she had not washed for months. I almost gagged as I pushed my tongue higher, into her fleshy opening. As quickly as I could I honed in on her clitoris, and started to flick her with my tongue. She juiced up fairly quickly; I clung to the back of her legs and licked for all I was worth. She began to rock: expletives fell from her lips: her hands gripped my hair: 'Jesus Fucking Christ' she said, as she came.

She rocked back and slid down onto the bench. Her head drooped. I took in deep breaths of the moist air. I looked at Megan: she gave me a nod of acknowledgement and jerked her thumb sideways:

"Prana's over there," she said.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and hurried away. There was quite a gathering in the corner of the area Megan had indicated, at the centre of which, facing the wall, was a new girl with a skinhead cut who I had briefly noticed in my earlier search. I could not see Prana, though. The skinhead girl seemed to be at the centre of the hubbub, even though she was resolutely facing the wall. I pushed my way into the group.

"Has anyone seen Prana?" I asked.

Several faces turned to me, with odd expressions.

And then the penny dropped.

"Prana!" I screamed: "what's happened? What have they done to you?"

The shaven-headed girl at last turned her face from the wall. Her eyes were red with tears.

"You see Chloe," she said: "even you don't recognise me."

She turned away from me again. I pushed my way closer and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Prana," I said. "Talk to me, please."

"Go away Chloe," she said. "I am a pariah now."

I looked at the others:

"What's happened?" I asked.

"What do you think," said a woman with moles on her cheeks, impatiently. "Didn't you hear Hardiman's latest threat?"

"You mean about not shaving properly?" I asked.

"What else?" said the woman.

"Oh God," I said. "Oh no, no no. Prana: how did this happen?"

"I'll tell you Chloe," said Prana, still facing the wall: "and then you can leave me alone. You can all leave me alone. You know my cellmate has gone and I am on my own. One day I was lazy, I put off shaving until after dinner, and then the light went out. It seemed early, but sometimes this happens. No problem, I thought, I will shave in the morning. But in the morning, still there was no light. I went to slop-out, everyone else had light except me. When Dawes and Clark came to inspect me I was still in darkness. 'The light-bulb has gone,' I told them. 'When did this happen?' they asked. 'Last night,' I told them. They changed the light bulb, then they told me I had not shaved. 'I cannot shave in the dark,' I told them. 'You had all day to shave,' they said.

"They took me to the Examination Room. They shaved me and poked at me: this did not bother me. And then - " Prana's body shook as she was gripped by another burst of tears - "and then they shaved my head. Dawes did this. Afterwards she picked up my hair from the floor and shook it in front of my face. Then she dropped it in the dustbin. And then she held up mirror and made me look. I saw an ugly skinhead looking back at me. Chloe, I vowed I would never cry in front of the Wardens, even if they whipped me, but I cried then.

"Now I am not the prettiest girl I am the ugliest girl. Now nobody will pay me for sex: already some women are saying 'Now you must pay us for sex Prana.' Now everybody gloats and hates me. If I don't earn I don't pay Megan and nobody will protect me. My life is over Chloe." Then Prana dropped her voice: her expression changed, and for a second I glimpsed the fury I had seen in her the day she had attacked me:

"I'll tell you one thing though," she said: "one day I will kill Dawes for this."

The savage intensity with which she said this frightened me: but it died away almost as rapidly as it had flared up, so I ignored this last remark, flung my arms around her shoulders, and pressed my face against the back of her head. It was almost smooth. I too was crying.

"I don't hate you Prana, I love you as much as ever: it makes no difference to me."

"Thank you Chloe, but you are lying. You cannot love me like this. If you say I do not look ugly you are lying."

"Prana: turn around for God's sake," I said. I took a grip on her shoulders, and quite firmly turned her round. She looked me straight in the eyes: I blanched for a second.

"You see Chloe, you recoil from me," she said.

"No Prana, no: only from what they've done to you. Prana, you're still the same person: I don't just love you for your hair."

"Chloe, you are very unusual person," said Prana. "Nobody else could like me looking like this. In the massage parlour I would not get single customer unless he was blind."

"Just come here," I said. I put my arms around her wan shoulders and hugged her. She felt limp: the life had gone from her: she barely reciprocated, but hung there like a rag doll. I ran my hands over her the back of her head, then kissed it, planting kisses until I had covered the whole of her skull.

"I'll earn for you," I said. "I'll pay you just as always, only more. Your hair will grow again: it will be alright."

"Yes Chloe," she said: but without conviction.

Suddenly a burly figure was at our side, and before I could take evasive action a knuckled hand was rubbing down hard on the top of Prana's head.

"A little Paki skinhead," said Wilson with a stupid grin on her jowly face. "Who'd have thought it?"

"Fuck off Wilson," I screamed.

"You what?" Wilson dropped her hand and stared at me in amazement. There were gasps from the assembled group.

"You heard," I said. "Fuck off before you lose another front tooth."

Wilson had the stunned expression of someone who has just witnessed a kitten metamorphose into tiger.

"I'm not scared of you," I said - though I was terrified, and couldn't believe I had done what I'd done.

"Aren't you?" said Wilson, recovering herself: "why are you trembling then?"

I knew I was trembling: I could feel my whole body trembling: but stupidly I looked down to see if there were any visible signs. With that movement the face-off with Wilson was broken: she raised her hands, made a movement as of breaking a twig, and laughed.

"I could break you in half," she said.

Then she turned and lumbered away.

I was shaking like a silver birch leaf.

"Chloe," said Prana, her eyes and mouth open wide: "what did you just do?"

"I don't care," I said: "she's not going to treat you like that."

"Chloe: maybe I don't need Megan to protect me now," she said, and for the first time a ghost of a smile appeared on her tear-stained face.

"Prana," I said, looking into her eyes: "you are the most beautiful person I've ever seen, even without any hair."

"Thank you Chloe."

"You've got such perfect bone structure," I said, "and your eyes are so beautiful: you don't need hair, hair only detracts from them.

"And think," I added, trying to build on her smile: "you won't have need of shampoo any more."

"No Chloe," she said, and she did try to smile, but I knew she did not really see any humour in this.

Prana's group was called to shower, and I drifted away. I was angry, I was upset, I was disturbed. I drifted over to the corner where Fatima sat, and presently a figure was at my side.

"It's awful what's happened to Prana," Micky said.

"Yes," I said. We stood in silence for a while: there was nothing worth adding.

"I ate that chocolate you gave me," said Micky at length.

"That's good," I said.

"But I've still got the other square."

Preoccupied as I was with Prana, I could not fail to take Micky's meaning.

"I couldn't Micky: not today."

"No," said Micky: then I saw tears in her eyes.

"Please don't, Micky: I can't take this right now."

"I'm sorry," said Micky. "It's just I was so looking forward to it. I've barely touched myself all week."

I sighed heavily. Micky's distress was so evident, and I couldn't help but remember the state I had been in a week or two back, craving relief from Prana.

"All right Micky," I said. "Come on?"

"Are you sure Chloe?"

"Yes," I said.

"I wouldn't ask, only..."

"It's all right Micky, just open your legs and stop talking."

Micky planted her legs apart, and I reached my hand between them. She gasped and whimpered: I knew exactly how desperate she was. I started to finger her, gently manipulating her mound, then sliding my finger into her crack. She started trembling. Her wetness helped lubricate my finger: soon I had a rhythm going, Micky started rocking and panting and within seconds I had rubbed her into a terrific orgasm which shook her entire body.

Still groaning with the aftershock, she slumped down on a bench.

"Thank you, thank you Chloe," she gasped. "You don't know how much I needed that."

"I do Micky," I said.

Prana's group had been called out of the showers; my impulse was to go and find her immediately, but I didn't like to desert Micky so quickly, and with only a few minutes to go until my own shower I decided to wait. I saw Prana in the distance, heading back towards the corner where I had first come across her. Meanwhile Micky was surfacing.

"Phew, Chloe," she said. "That was amazing."

"Micky," I said: "I've only got a few minutes before my shower, but I thought of something in my cell: can I ask you - have you ever thought about having breast implants?"

"Yes Chloe, of course I have. When I was sixteen this was my dream. My mum helped me look into it, but they wouldn't consider anyone under eighteen. Then when I met Alice it didn't seem to matter so much.

"And now I'm here. Maybe when I get out; but it's impossible to think so far ahead. Also I don't know how I could pay for it."

"You'll find a way," I said. "Hold onto that: it'll help you get through this."

"Would you like me more if I had breasts, Chloe?"

"It isn't about what I'd like," I said. "Though it wouldn't make any difference to me. It's about how you would feel."

"OK Chloe: I'll try to hold onto that."

The whistle blew:

"Cells Twenty-Five to Thirty into the showers: five minutes," called Hardiman.

After my shower I caught up with Prana again. I had thought I had managed to bring her through the worst of her misery, but she was still in a state, veering unpredictably from tears to agitation to anger. It seemed that whilst I had been standing under the streaming water, Dawes had accosted Prana and told her to stop skulking in the corner.

"'Since when is there rule about standing in the corner?' I said to her. Do you know what she said Chloe? 'You answer me back again and I'll thrash you here in front of everybody.' Like I am five years old Chloe. Fatima sits in the corner all the time: Dawes does not threaten to thrash her. I will kill her Chloe, I swear on my grandmother's memory, one day I will kill her."

It frightened me to hear Prana talk like that. I hugged her, told her over and again that her hair would soon grow, and that anyway she was beautiful, but she refused to be consoled.

"How about a rub," I said, remembering the state I had been when I first arrived, and how despite my initial reluctance Rose's had had brought me some comfort.

"Rub rub rub!" Prana flared up. "All I do is rub myself. I'm sick of rubbing. Do you know I am alone in my cell now, no-one to talk to, only the walls for company. I am going crazy with rubbing. I wish Cynthia was back to stink the place out with her farts again."

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I just thought it would make you feel better."

"I'm sorry too," said Prana. "Maybe you are right, but I cannot do it now. I will rub you though, I must earn chocolate."

"Prana! I've already told you, I'm going to give you chocolate anyway."

"I don't understand you Chloe: why would you give me chocolate when you get nothing in return?"

"Because I keep telling you Prana: I love you for who you are, not what you can give me."

"I forget," said Prana: "I am sorry."

"Come here," I said.

I hugged her again, and touched her with all the tenderness I could muster. Gradually she began to soften.

"Showers are over: ten minutes drying time," shouted Hardiman.

"You know there are two new girls?" asked Prana.

"Somebody did tell me," I said. "I'd forgotten."

"There they are," said Prana, indicating two girls who were standing clutching their towels not far from us. "They put them in a cell together: why didn't they put one in my cell?"

"I don't know," I said. Again I had thoughts of approaching Megan, to see if I could be moved into Prana's cell: but her refusal last time had been so final I knew she would not take kindly to being asked a second time.

"Lambs to the slaughter," I said, eyeing the two new girls. "The smaller one only looks about fifteen - but she must be eighteen to be in here, surely?"

"That is the law," said Prana. "Eighteen."

"I wonder what she's done?" I said.

"They are mules," said Prana.

"Mules?" I said, puzzled. I had visions of them on their hands and knees, labouring up a mountain track.

"They smuggled drugs," said Prana. "They went on holiday to somewhere, Peru or Mexico, somebody told them they could be rich if they just brought home a package, so they had bags of cocaine up their snatches. Only Customs searched them. Now they'll spend years in here."

"They look so lost," I said. "Can't we warn them what's going to happen?"

"No Chloe, absolutely not. The other women would be very angry."

I realised what a favour Rose had done me, by warning me: although it hadn't made much difference in the end, I had still been caught unawares.

The women had formed two small posses: there was a lot of whispering and manoeuvring: abruptly the two groups made a bee line for the two new girls, who suddenly found themselves swept off their feet as innumerable pairs of hands grasped them. The larger of the two girls struggled and shouted. The smaller and younger-looking one just stared out of terrified eyes: she looked like a frightened little rabbit.

"Keep still darling, it'll be over quicker," one of her captors said to the larger girl.

The rest of the prisoners formed into two queues, and began the ritual.

"Come on Chloe, we have to do this," said Prana.

The women were licking their fingers, and forcing them into the two girls' vaginas. Some did this in a cursory way, just sliding a finger in and withdrawing it; but others were clearly relishing their task, and were taking the opportunity to have a good feel around. The larger girl continued to struggle. The smaller one, whom I heard somebody call Lisa, was almost still. A third and a fourth woman fingered her: then there was a pause, and I saw why: from between Lisa's legs there began to issue a stream of urine.

"Watch out!" shouted someone.

"There she blows," called another.

The women jumped back, laughing, as the stream of urine arced upwards and fell to the ground, splashing the tiles and the ankles of anyone standing too close. There were shrieks and catcalls, and dares and pushing. One girl, after a push from another, darted forward, crouched down with her mouth open, and positioned herself under the stream. The women holding Lisa angled her differently, so that her piss rained down onto the face and into the mouth of the crouching girl, who gulped a couple of times, then withdrew.

"Not bad," she said, wiping her mouth, as others hooted with laughter.

The stream subsided: fortunately the women were holding Lisa close to one of the drainage grids that ran the length of the showers, and her urine trickled away. Nevertheless, once she had finished the women holding her took a few paces away, so that no-one would get their feet wet.

Now it was my turn. I licked my finger and slid it in. I felt Lisa's heat, and withdrew again. Prana did the same, and we took our place in the queue for the other girl.

"I've never seen that happen before," said Prana. "I fear for this girl, she is so passive and frightened."

The women had a tighter grip on the second girl: her arms were pinned at her sides and her legs were forced wide open. I took my turn: and to my shame I felt a telltale stirring between my legs. I slid my middle finger into her vagina, and on impulse worked it around a little, feeling the heat of her, the strength and resistance of her vaginal muscles. Then I withdrew, somewhat ashamed of myself.

Our parts in the initiations over, and with little time left, I hugged Prana again, and stroked her head.

"It will be all right," I promised her.

"If you say so Chloe."

"Did you know," I said, "they used to shave everyone when they arrived? Everyone's head I mean?"

"I have heard this Chloe. This would not be so bad: it is the same for everyone then: no-one is singled-out for punishment."

"It won't last," I said. "Hair grows quickly."

The two new girls were lowered to the ground. Everyone started clapping. The larger girl allowed herself to be helped to her feet; the smaller lay on the tiles, immobile. Eventually her friend helped her up, and with heads bent they took their place in the line, along with Prana, myself, and all the others.

Day Thirty-Three