Complementing Morgan Pt. 01

The modern women's movement cared about access to abortion and equal pay for equal work, but no one cared what happened to convicted felons. Additionally, the same piece of legislation that authorized the Complement program mandated all-female staff in women's correctional facilities, while guaranteeing other, equally well-paying government jobs for the men that previously held those positions. Increased availability, of good, stable, government jobs made the women of Ohio very happy.

The lesbian community raised a minor stir until reassured that Complements could be keyed to a woman's saliva and vaginal secretions as easily as a man's semen, but that was the extent of the opposition.

Why hadn't her lawyer mentioned the Complements sooner? Maybe before her bail was revoked?

Her lawyer, useless as ever, pointed out to Morgan, first, that he had no way of knowing she was going to assault her sister with a pie. Second, he explained that if she expected to get out of her predicament without a felony conviction she would need a priest, not a lawyer, as that would require a miracle.

At dinner that evening, Morgan sat with Hunt and Amato again. She apologized for not believing them that morning.

"Don't worry about it, Strawberry," Amato said. "Can't blame you for not believing something that fucked. I couldn't make that shit up. So, like I was saying, you got someone special?"

"Not exactly."

Not at all. There was no special guy, or girl for that matter, though Morgan was definitely straight.

Her situation was simultaneously horrifying and surreal. Men should be climbing over each other to hold the key to her Complement. In reality, she couldn't meet anyone new in here, and that left exactly one candidate. On top of that, she hardly knew him, and there was a decent chance he would say no.

That blue collar delivery guy, Derek, was the only man outside her company she'd given the time of day in the last two years. She went to dinner with Derek more out of curiosity than any real interest. Well, curiosity and her plan to make Kevin a bit jealous. At the time, she and Kevin had been in an off-again phase of their on-again-off-again relationship.

Derek certainly had a great body. He was tall, a little over six feet, with pale skin, emerald green eyes and short, dark, curly hair. Morgan estimated his age to be about the same as hers, maybe a little older, in his late twenties or early thirties.

He had been so bold asking her to dinner like that. She might have slept with him eventually, but over dinner he came off as a bit desperate. He had clearly been looking for way more than she was interested in at the time. Her intention had been to see him a few more times, make sure that Kevin noticed him, and then get rid of him.

She could have called him, probably should have called him, when they let her out on bail. She just hadn't been able to stomach the idea of ending up as a pity fuck for the goddamn delivery boy.

Now she had to swallow her pride. The tables were turned, and she was looking for way more than he might be interested in. There was literally no one else to ask.

"What about you?" Morgan asked, turning the question back to Hunt and Amato. "You have someone?"

"I'm only in for ninety days," Hunt said.

"My piece-of-shit P.D. says she's trying to work a deal so I can plead to a misdemeanor instead of a felony," Amato said. "She says it's fifty-fifty which probably means I'm fucked. But yeah, the reason I grabbed that two-by-four in the first place was because some bitch decided to mouth off about Bryan. I got someone."

"So, Bryan is—" Morgan began, but Amato cut her off.

"Last bitch that ran her mouth about Bryan ended up in the hospital. Let's not go there, okay?"

"You brought it up," Morgan said. "You're the one who asked about who I was going to pick."

Hunt smirked. "Amato, here, is a loud-mouth with an opinion on everything right up until you say word one about her boyfriend."

Amato glowered at her.

"Hey, at least you have someone," Morgan said. "There's a guy I can ask, but it's not exactly a sure thing."

"Here's a piece of advice," Hunt said, "find someone who's a sure thing. Not that I have first hand experience, mind you, but I hear things. When they started putting in the Comps, they also started allowing monthly conjugal visits. Conjugal visits, as in, you might actually get laid before you get out. But, if no one shows up that's your problem. You're going to want a sure thing."

Laying on her bunk that night, trying to get to sleep, Hunt's words echoed in Morgan's head. A man who was a sure thing? She had never met such a mythical beast, and she wasn't likely to find one stuck in jail.

She really wished she had a man, though. Right there, right then. Unable to sleep, Morgan's hands wandered over her bare skin as her mind drifted. The guards said it was against the rules, but soon it might be taken from her. No more doing it for herself, even after she eventually got out. How was that even possible?

It was like the old psychological trick: Tell a girl not to think about pink elephants, and she would start to think about pink elephants. Tell a girl she wasn't allowed to touch, wouldn't ever be able to touch, and she started feeling the need. She was unexpectedly wet, aroused.

Well, who was going to notice in the dark?

Her hands moved over her breasts, down her stomach and sides. She imagined Kevin wrapping his huge, strong arms around her. As she traced the contours of her torso, she remembered the feel of his muscular body next to hers, that delicious feeling of warmth and excitement.

Morgan closed her eyes, lost herself to the fantasy. She slipped a hand down between her thighs. Her fingertips brushed her lips, gently, slowly. Kevin had always known exactly how to touch her, gliding his fingers over her sex very slowly, delicately.

She felt her body respond, tensing in anticipation. She adjusted her movement, began to caress her clit. Warm pressure built within her as she quickened her pace. Her fingers moved faster, harder, bringing her closer and closer to release.

Someone backhanded Morgan, hard, across the face. Her concentration was completely shattered and her lip was bleeding.

"Wha—"

A tall woman towered over her, not a guard but one of her cell-mates. Morgan vaguely remembered the woman introducing herself as Hewitt. She must have heard what Morgan was doing.

"If you're jillin', you're bleedin'," Hewitt growled. "Remember that."

The woman turned away, returning to her own bed before Morgan could respond.

She lay there in the dark, angry, frustrated and unsatisfied. She turned over, tried to put her need out of her mind, but the empty feeling, the desperate yearning desire remained. She lay there for over an hour before finally drifting off to sleep.

The next morning Morgan was trying to decide whether to mention what had happened to Hunt and Amato at breakfast. She wanted to ask about Hewitt, but the whole situation was embarrassing. In the end she didn't get a choice in the matter: they had already heard.

"Damn, Strawberry! You got a death wish or something?" Amato asked when Morgan sat down beside her.

"Not last I checked, though I might be getting there," Morgan replied. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"I wouldn't have slept a wink, if I were you." Amato said. "You know how close you came to getting shanked?"

"Shanked?"

"Yeah, Hewitt caught you jilling," Hunt said. "Everyone knows. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I wouldn't get too many more chances."

"That was your last one, that's for sure," Amato said. "They're gonna be watching you like a hawk now."

Morgan was confused. "I know it's against the rules, but why does Hewitt care?" She lowered her voice to a whisper, so no guard would overhear her. "I mean, fuck the rules, right?"

Hunt shook her head. "You don't get it. Hewitt's already Comped. Lots of inmates with the same story, back in after getting out. You were basically wolfing down a five course meal in front of a starving woman."

"She's your cell-mate. Haven't you noticed how Hewitt and some of the others seem twitchy? On edge all the time?" Amato asked. "Hell, you must have seen the hardware in the shower."

It wasn't until Amato pointed it out that Morgan made the connection, realized what the piercings she'd seen on inmates in the showers really were. She had also noticed some women acting strangely, but had assumed they were suffering from mental problems or were going through withdrawal.

When Morgan explained her initial assumptions, Hunt just raised an eyebrow. "Well, you could call it withdrawal, in a matter of speaking."

"So, what now?" Morgan asked. "I'm just supposed to be okay with never doing it for myself again?"

"Well," Hunt said, "If you'd asked yesterday I'd have told you to try the toilets. After lights-out there's only one reason you'd be breathing heavy. In the toilets, if you're fast and quiet, people will think you're taking deep breaths after a giant shit. Thing is, after last night they're going to be watching you, looking in through the cracks. Hewitt and the others are real Nazis about it. It's not like they've got anything better to do, and the Comps make 'em so horny that the idea of anyone getting off when they can't just makes them nuts. So yeah, you're basically done."

Morgan refused to accept that. She skipped dinner that night, finding her way to the toilets when no one else was around.

Her mind had been filled with thoughts of sex all day, focused on what she was forbidden and how she would have it anyway. She knew what she wanted, and she was more than ready to go. Thoughts of Kevin filled her mind as she reached down to her wet, dripping sex.

Her fingers slid along her labia, moving up to her sensitive nub and back down the length of her slit. She imagined it was Kevin's tongue, licking her intently, pleasuring her with slow deliberate movements. Her hand moved more quickly, more forcefully, establishing a firm rhythm. The pleasure bubbled up from within her, bringing her ever nearer the climax she craved. It felt so good.

She was close, just a little bit longer and she'd go over the edge. She was going to—

Footsteps echoed outside her stall. She forced herself to stop, tightly gripping the sides of the toilet seat with her hands. Her knuckles turned white as her entire abdomen clenched in frustration, once more denied.

Morgan wanted to scream at the intruder to get out, just for a minute, but didn't dare. She could only sit there, waiting, forcing herself to ignore the the throbbing, demanding ache.

The sound of water running came from the sink directly across from her stall. It shut off. Then it came on again. Off. On. Off. On. The woman out there was standing in front of the sink, only pretending to wash her hands. The bitch was deliberately keeping an eye on her, just as Hunt had predicted.

Morgan left the bathroom defeated, full of hot anger and unfulfilled lust.

She went to bed that night full of pent up arousal, as she did the night after, and the night after that. Every attempt she made to find relief was thwarted. There was never a place or time for herself. In the cells, the hallways, the cafeteria, the showers and especially the toilets there were always guards or other inmates. Any time she seemed to be sweating or out of breath, even if she wasn't actually trying to get away with anything, another inmate would casually strike up a conversation, breaking her concentration.

Days, then weeks passed without success. She was always forced to stop soon after she'd started, which only left her more frustrated than before.

It didn't help that there wasn't anything else to do, nothing else to focus on. Her mind kept drifting back to her orgasms, or lack thereof. It wasn't that she was naturally like this, though she had always liked sex. It was because her pleasure was now forbidden. Being told she couldn't have something made her want it.

She really, really wanted it.

"Just give up and try not to think about it," Hunt told her. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

That was easy for her to say. She was getting out in a few weeks. Morgan said as much.

"Listen, Strawberry," Hunt said. She'd followed Amato's lead, and had started calling Morgan Strawberry. "Hewitt knows what you're trying to do. All the Comped inmates know what you're trying to do. All the guards know what you're trying to do. The only reason they haven't stepped in is because you haven't gotten hurt bad enough to end up in the infirmary or caused them any real trouble. Yet. They're happy to sit on their asses and let Hewitt and the others do their job for 'em. Well, that and they find it hilarious to watch you keep getting all excited, and then getting shut down. The moment it escalates though, you're fucked. This doesn't end well."

"There's a betting pool going." Amato said.

Hunt gave her a look, but Amato continued. "Not the guards, the other inmates. They're betting on whether you get yourself killed, you get yourself sent to solitary, or you get transferred out. Right now, solitary is the favorite. We've both got a little something on you getting transferred out first, because we don't think you're stupid enough to keep this up."

Morgan stalked away from the table.

"Seriously, you need to give it up!" Hunt called after her. "You don't want to end up in solitary."

Giving up had become a theme in Morgan's life. The next time she met with her lawyer, she had no choice but to face reality. Her options were three years in prison or ten years in prison, and there was only one sane thing to do. She was forced to accept the plea deal that would guarantee her a Complement.

Morgan stood in front of a judge and confessed to a crime she did not commit because it was the only option she had. Afterwards, her lawyer told her she would be transferred to Marysville within a month, and handed her the form for choice of "significant other." She had never felt so hopeless.

In Morgan's experience, no one gave her anything she wanted unless they had no other choice. So, with only three weeks left before she was going to be transferred to Marysville, she didn't give Derek a choice. She wrote his name on the form, never contacting him, defying him to say no.

She hated that they were doing this to her, that she needed someone at all, that he was now her only option. She hated how undeniably desperate she'd become even without a Complement, the certainty that it would soon be much worse, and how even that would pale in comparison to what would happen to her if Derek said no. She hated that Kevin had humiliated her, that she couldn't trust him. It was never serious between them, but the bastard had testified against her.

Most of all, she hated that even though she should really be able to do better than Derek, he might now turn her down.

Why would he say no? He wanted her body. It was obvious from the way he looked at her when he took her to dinner.

Yes, a mean, cynical voice in her head pointed out, but that was when she was the untouchable, forbidden fruit, the successful business woman. Besides, even if he was still interested now that she was in prison, even if he hadn't found someone else, this would be more than just a quick fuck. Holding the key to her Complement sounded a lot like a commitment.

When the guards informed Morgan that she had a visitor, she first assumed it was Lorelei intent on humiliating her again. Instead, they told her that Derek had come to talk. His name was on the form for the Complement so they put him on her permitted visitors list as well. There was no warning, no time to prepare, not that it would have made any difference.

He would want to know about her crime. Would he believe the truth? For a delivery guy he wasn't stupid, quite the opposite. She doubted he would believe her if she tried playing the innocent victim. As Lorelei had been so eager to point out, no one else ever had.

He was going to ask about the money, about why she did it, and she had nothing to tell him. Then he was going to ask if there was something wrong with her, why she needed some man she met only once. Then, to top it off, he was going to ask why she thought his new girlfriend would ever be willing to share.

They sat at a tiny particle-board table in uncomfortable plastic chairs. A muscular, uniformed guard stood nearby. "No touching," the guard warned them as Morgan sat down.

Derek gave her an awkward smile. "So, it's been a while."

"Yes," Morgan replied. "It's good to see you."

There was a brief pause, neither of them seemed to know what to say next.

Derek spoke first. "Why didn't you call? What happened?"

"I got arrested, is what happened."

He stared at her. "According to a letter I received this week, I am your 'significant other.' Isn't getting arrested something you should discuss with your significant other?"

"Well, are you my significant other?" Morgan crossed her arms, defying him to refuse her. She knew she should be trying to seduce him instead of challenging him like this but she didn't want to play games. If he was going to say no, she wanted him to tell her so and be done with it.

Derek closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his temple with one hand. "Look, I like the idea of being together. Forgive me, though, if I'm a little confused after three months of hearing nothing, then having to ask why you're saying we're together, and finally being told — and I'm quoting here — 'that bitch be crazy.' Can you just start at the beginning and explain this to me?"

"You like the idea of being together? You'll do it then?" Everything else he said barely registered.

"It? Listen, you made me look like an idiot not knowing what was going on when I, uh, gave my sample, for the, you know, the Complement. So, can you please be specific? You want me to do what exactly?"

"You already did it," Morgan breathed. It was a done deal, he had given his sperm, his saliva, his consent, and they were going to key her Complement to him.

Her worst fear would not be realized, but as that fear evaporated another took its place. To a large degree, she had been thinking about him in terms of a solution to a problem. He was the one man she could ask, so she asked him, hoping he would say yes. Their time together had been brief, their conversation mostly superficial. He was going to have a frightening level of control over her body, and she knew very little about him.

He looked annoyed. "Start at the beginning please? Why me, now, after three months of nothing?"

Derek expected an answer, there was no time to think and no real reason to lie. "Everyone at Konnor Interactive, my old company, thinks I stole about twenty million dollars from them. I had a bad habit of only dating guys at work, so my options were rather limited. You don't work for them and I needed someone I could trust. Okay?"

"They think you stole twenty million dollars? Did you? And, wait, you trust me?"

There it was, the twenty million dollar question. She chose to ignore it. "No, I don't exactly trust you. I don't trust anyone, but, believe it or not, I trust you more than anyone else. Especially anyone at Konnor."

"But why didn't you contact me so we could talk about this first? Adelaide, she was the one who flipped out on me, seemed shocked that you hadn't reached out. Once more, her exact words were 'that bitch be crazy.'"

"I didn't want to give you a chance to say no. Do you know what would have happened if I couldn't find anyone?"

He seemed to think for a moment. "No, actually I don't. That wasn't covered in the literature Adelaide gave me."

"If you don't find someone, they don't let you re-key unless you get married. Married, as in, a ring on the finger. No more fun, ever, unless you find a man to walk down the aisle, you understand? No, you don't understand, you're a guy. You know how hard it is for you, as a guy, to get a woman to sleep with you? Multiply that by a hundred, a thousand, maybe. That's how hard it is to get a man to pop the question."