In The Slammer Ch. 02

The next morning we were blasted awake by a klaxon that was louder than a police siren.

Dolores got up sleepily and sat on the toilet. I wasn't yet used to sharing a bed with a naked girl. Her tits were trim and sporty, with just the slightest bit of bounce. Her short brown hair would have been sassy if it wasn't so tousled. Her lips were puffy from sleep.

I could hear the tinkle of her pee, then a small plop. She took a piece of toilet paper and used it to wipe herself in the front. She used the same piece in the back, making it last for two or three careful wipes. Then she washed her hands in the sink. There was a big red circle around her ass from the cold seat.

"Move over," she grumbled, as she got back into bed. She pulled the blanket up tightly around her shoulder.

"What comes next?" I asked.

"They'll roust us out in ten minutes or so. Better use the toilet if you have to."

I didn't have to poop, but I did have to pee again. She had left a small brown log in the bowl, and my pee played over it.

The morning drill was the opposite of the evening one. The doors buzzed open, the girls dragged themselves out into the corridor, hugging themselves against the cold. They perked up when they remembered they had a new tenant. Everyone eyed the two of us with real curiosity. They each seemed to have their own idea about how things might have gone between us during the night. They looked for some corroboratory evidence in our appearance or body language. I couldn't figure out which made me look more ridiculous, putting my hands over my crotch or leaving them at my side. Dolores didn't pay any attention to the other girls or to me.

Hound Dog counted us up, then blew her whistle and marched us to the changing room. We stood in line, and a large black woman behind the counter handed out a little pile of clothes to each one. When my turn came, she looked me up and down.

"Sugar," she pronounced, "I hate to be the one to tell you, but you in the wrong institution."

"Seems to be a matter of debate," I replied.

"Well, while they debatin', we can't have you walking around like that." She handed me some clothes. "You're a large for sure. What's your shoe size, sugar? "

"Ten and a half."

"That's about twelve and a half, women's." She went to a shelf and brought me a pair of used sneakers. "You guard these with your life, hear? The girls will show you where to store them. Now you go put these on before you give an old woman palpitations."

Dolores was at a bench with two other girls, so I went over there. One was a mousy thing who had tried to cover herself up the night before in the showers. Now she looked at me with a combination of embarrassment and fear, getting dressed as fast as she could. The other was a big black girl who stepped between me and Dolores.

"How are you doing this morning, Dolores?" she asked, glaring at me with a stern expression, no more concerned about the fact that she was naked than a panther would have been.

"All right," Dolores said, noncommittally.

The black girl backed off, but remained vigilant. I figured she must be a friend of Dolores's. But it didn't seem the right thing to do to try to introduce myself with my dick hanging out. So I opened my packet. It consisted of a pair of plain white panties, a sports bra, sweat socks, a pair of baggy pants, and a baggy shirt. I decided I could do without the panties and the bra. The pants had a string that tied around the waist. I left the shirt untucked, like everybody else. The shoes fit well enough. Once I was dressed, I didn't feel nearly as vulnerable. I was just one more inmate.

The black girl was dressed now too. "I'm Hector," I said.

"Annie," she replied, making it clear that she was still keeping her eye on me. "That's Misha," indicating the mousy girl.

After we were dressed, they marched us down to the dining hall. I fell into line after Dolores and Annie and got my bowl of oatmeal. But there wasn't any more room at their table, which left me standing alone like the unpopular kid at school. Annie indicated that I could sit at the next table over. "That's Black Betty," she said.

It was the older woman with the leathery jugs. She wasn't black, just kind of naturally grimy.

"I'm in with Annie," she grinned. "You're in with Dolores. How come they put you in with her?"

"Mix up with the paperwork."

"Wish they'd 'a mixed you up with me," she said, digging into her oatmeal. "I ain't got all my teeth." She grinned, showing me what she meant. "Give pretty good blow jobs. Least I ain't never had any complaints."

Misha sat down next to Black Betty.

"Be like being in prison with your old man," Black Betty opined. "Have its pluses and its minuses. You ever had a old man?"

Misha shook her head.

"Can't live with 'em and can't live without 'em," Black Betty philosophized. "Better eat up."

Rachel Ramirez sashayed between the tables, carrying her tray. "Morning, lover boy," she said. "My, my! Don't you dress up nice! Angels sing you to sleep last night?" Her two lieutenants followed a step behind, leering like hyenas. I gave them all a curt nod.

They had the girls divided up into work groups. After breakfast they put me in the same group as Misha and Black Betty. They marched us over to rehabilitate ourselves by sweeping an empty warehouse.

-----

By that evening the girls were already starting to get more used to me. In the day room, after supper, I wasn't the sole focus of attention. The girls would drift over in my direction and chatter and act silly so that I would notice them, but then they would drift back to whatever else it was they were doing. Dolores sat by herself reading a tattered copy of People magazine. Rachel Ramirez held court at one of the tables, listening to her lieutenants' reports. One of them had been in my work group. She'd given me all kinds of little chores to do until I figured out that she didn't have any real authority. Rachel kept glancing over in my direction with an amused look in her eye.

Finally they rounded us up for our shower. The girls seemed to find it thrilling that they had no choice but to undress in front of me. They went about it deliberately and dramatically, pretending not to pay any special attention to the fact that I was among them, but striking little poses as each new item of clothing came off. They also pretended not to take any special notice of the fact that I was getting undressed too. But every one of them held her breath as I lowered my pants.

I felt like a shy kid on the first day of gym class. This was the way things were going to be, and I would just have to get used to it. I was just another inmate, whether I had clothes on or not. I no longer even seemed to stand out that much. We all had two arms and two legs. We all had a crack in our ass. We all had two nipples in front, and even though my chest was toward the flatter end of the spectrum, there were at least a couple girls with chests almost as flat as mine.

Most of us had a tuft of hair between our legs. Most of the girls were innies, but one was bursting out like an overstuffed turkey sandwich, and another one had what looked for all the world like a snubby, swirly little cock head sticking right out for all to see. Next to them my own outie didn't really seem all that far out of the ordinary. They didn't appear to be self conscious about theirs, why should I be self conscious about mine?

This time I had to jockey for a spot under the shower head. I had to wait for the soap until one girl was finished with it, and I had to pass it on to another girl when I was finished with it myself. I made a point to grab a towel before they ran out. After I dried off I kept it tied around my waist until the last possible minute.

Rachel Ramirez was standing by the laundry cart.

"My towel's all wet," she said, innocently. "Can I borrow yours?"

She dropped her towel into the cart, revealing her shaven pussy and movie-star tits. She took mine. She brought it up to her face, and gently touched it to her cheeks, looking sweetly into my eyes. Then she lifted each breast and carefully wiped the under crease. Then she wiped between her legs. She was essentially doing what I'd been afraid to do the day before, rubbing herself all over with my used towel.

She was just horsing around, but it completely dispelled any notion that our anatomical differences were merely superficial. I could feel myself starting to respond. I fled back into the relative safety of the crowd. My dick was accordioned out about as far as it could go without actually starting to get stiff. I was grateful when the Hound Dog blew her whistle. There were enough distractions getting into line and parading back to the cell block to keep things under control.

Dolores hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention to me the whole day. But as soon as they buzzed the two of us into our cell for the night, my dick sprang up like a noisemaker on New Year's Eve. Right in front of her. She didn't say anything, and I was too embarrassed to say anything either. I just got under the icy blankets. She got in behind me, back to back and butt to butt.

I'd been thinking that things would be better when I got to the Men's Facility. But now I began to wonder. What if I had to share a bed with a guy? What if they made us sleep naked there too? It was bad enough that I was always getting a hard on in front of Dolores. But at least with her it was clear where it came from.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked the wall. "Do you know anything about Potter?"

"Where you're supposed to be?"

"Yeah. Do they make the guys there sleep naked too?"

"If they do it here, they probably do it there too."

"I just can't imagine guys sleeping together naked in the same bunk."

"If they get cold enough."

"Most guys would rather freeze to death."

"Well, I guess they gotta do what they gotta do."

"If it was a girl in here with you, would you be sleeping with her?"

"I was until you came along."

"Didn't it creep you out?"

"Things usually don't turn out as bad as you think they will."

-----

After supper on Thursdays we had hygiene class instead of day room. The teacher was Mrs. Carlsen. She was in her mid thirties, short brown hair, average height, very nicely built. She was always sharply dressed, her hair in perfect order, her features brought out by just the slightest touch of makeup. Not that it's that hard to look stunning in front of a roomful of washed out inmates. But she wasn't trying to show off, just to set an example.

She was surprised to find a boy in her class. I had to explain about the mix up.

"I think we're very fortunate to have Hector here with us," she told the class. "Men and women need to know about each other as well as about themselves. Now we'll have an added incentive to consider the male perspective."

The topic for the class was douching, how you're not supposed to do it because it upsets the flora in your vagina. I'll admit I didn't know too much about the topic and I learned a thing or two. Mrs. Carlsen promised that future classes would try to strike a better balance between girl issues and boy issues. She had a few words with me after class.

"Do they have you sharing a cell with one of the girls?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I don't suppose they've thought to provide you with any kind of protection?"

"No, ma'am."

"I'll see what I can do. But in the meantime, promise me you'll be careful."

"Yes, ma'am, I will."

-----

"Fuck!"

It was Dolores. I'd been dreaming something really nice, but I couldn't quite remember what it was.

"Fuck!"

She was out of the bed, yanking off the blankets. My thigh was wet. I realized that I must have had a wet dream, and that it must have shot all over her. I must have turned around in my sleep.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She had thrown one of the blankets on the upper bunk and was using the other one to wipe the backs of her thighs. She kept turning the blanket to find a dry spot. When she was done she threw the used blanket at me. "Asshole!" She climbed up into the top bunk and bounced around furiously as she tried to arrange the other blanket over herself.

I was still half asleep. Surely she must understand what had happened. She must know how it worked. But it was too complicated, too late at night, to try to explain. "Sorry," I mumbled. I turned the blanket this way and that trying to avoid the wet spots. I tried to get back to my pleasant dream, but it was long gone. I had trouble getting to sleep at all. It was a long, cold night.

As soon as the lights came on in the morning I got up and tried to wash the blanket out. I could see the wet spots, and I used water from the sink, a little soap, a little more water. I tried not to get the blanket any wetter than I had to, and then wrung out each spot as hard as I could.

Dolores climbed down to use the toilet. She looked like she'd had a rough night too. She was still pissed as hell. I moved aside to let her wash her hands, then kept on at my chore. No sense even trying to talk to her. She climbed back up on the top bunk and wrapped herself in her blanket. I tucked the edge of my blanket under the upper mattress and let it hang down to dry. I paced back and forth to keep warm. It took forever for the doors to buzz open.

-----

That evening, all the girls were aware that Dolores wasn't talking to me, but no one knew why. They strained their necks watching us go into our cell. Dolores climbed up on the upper bunk, wrapped herself in her blanket, and stared out the window. The other blanket had dried out pretty well, but it was still a little damp.

I went to the toilet, but instead of peeing I started to stroke my dick. It soon got hard, and I kept stroking it pretty forcefully. I couldn't tell if she was watching me, or not, but I was red as a beet. As if having to pee in front of her wasn't enough, now this. I finally came into the toilet bowl. I squeezed the last gobs of cum from my dick and washed my hands.

"It was an accident you know," I said, shaking the water off my hands.

No response.

"It happens to guys sometimes you know. They have a sexy dream, and they come in their sleep. I didn't do it on purpose."

No response.

"It won't happen again. It only happens if you let things build up. From now on I'll take care of things so that they don't build up."

No response.

I got into bed and curled up under the blanket. It was another chilly night. The blanket was damp and practically worthless. What a crock of crap. It wasn't bad enough that they locked you up, but they made you shower with girls, pee with girls, even sleep with girls, and then when your body did what bodies naturally do, somehow it was all your fault.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I promise it won't happen again. You can come back down if you want."

No response.

Five minutes later, though, she did come down. She still didn't say anything, but she helped me arrange the blankets. We got back in bed, back to back and butt to butt.

-----

Rachel Ramirez's lieutenant, the one in my work group, was named Porsche, "like the car." She carried herself as if she was in Rachel's league, but in reality she was only a cheep knock-off. Her stitching was a bit off, her paint a bit prone to chip. She was always trying to lord it over the rest of us. She always acted as if she were a supervisor and never lifted a finger to do any actual work. She always took an extra sandwich at lunch, even when that didn't leave enough to go around.

She had it in for me because I didn't fawn over her the way she thought I should. She took it out on Misha. She was always finding fault with her, always trying to make her redo her work. I tried to steer clear of her as much as possible, but I always found myself having to stand up for Misha.

One day Porsche tripped Misha in the showers. She wouldn't normally have done something so blatant, but it was kind of a perfect opportunity, and not even Misha was sure exactly what had happened. Misha landed hard on her butt, and a lot of the girls laughed, Rachel among them. Annie was right there and helped her up. She hadn't seen what Porsche had done. But Rachel had.

-----

That evening for some reason I was as antsy as antsy could be. I couldn't lay still. I couldn't stop fidgeting. I finally crawled over Dolores and started pacing back and forth in the cell.

"How can you stand this place?" Four paces to the wall, four paces back.

"Having to stay in bed all evening!" Four paces to the wall, four paces back.

"Having to sweep the same empty warehouse every other goddamn day!" Four paces to the wall, four paces back.

"Not a single goddamn laundry basket in the whole goddamn laundry!" It was so cold that it looked like I was wearing a dandelion salad with a cherry tomato in the center. Dolores was watching from the bed. She wasn't sure if it was the National Geographic Channel or Survivor, but it was the only thing on.

"Things would be a lot different around here if I was in charge." Pushup, two, three, four.

"You better believe they would." Deep knee bend. Deep knee bend.

"At least I'd make sure there were enough goddamn blankets." Pushup, two, three, four.

"At least I'd be able to tell the difference between the boys and the girls." Deep knee bend. Deep knee bend.

I climbed back over her, got under the edge of the blankets, trying not to disturb her pocket of warmth, facing the wall.

"Don't they know that sleeping on the same side every night gives you scoliosis? Something-osis, anyway."

"So turn over," Dolores said. "It's a free country."

"Free country!" I turned over. I was facing her now, facing her back, hunched away not to intrude on her space. "Free country!" I propped myself up on my elbow. "I guess that's why they leave the door unlocked at night. I guess that's why they leave the refrigerator all stocked up."

She turned over onto her back and looked up at me, half amused.

"Look," I said. "This place is driving me crazy. I'm going to break out. You going to come with me?"

She took it as a rhetorical question.

"All we need is one of those things that girls wear in their hair. Bobby pins. You probably still got a couple up there if you look hard enough. We'll use them to saw through the bars. We'll tie the blankets together." She was lying right there beside me. I could so easily have slipped my arm around her.

"I'm not saying it will be easy. It might take a couple years."

"We'll be out by then," she reminded me.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shoot down the only good idea I ever had." I slipped back out from under the blankets and arched myself over her to get out of bed again. Always before it had been like crossing in front of someone in the movie theater, you not looking at them, they not looking at you. But this time she was on her back and I straddled her face to face. Within kissing distance.

Four paces to the wall. Four paces back. Deep knee bend. Touch my toes. My dick bobbed around like a bobble-headed dachshund.

I lay down on the cold floor. I scooted myself under the bed. I strained and strained, but I couldn't lift it an inch.

I was cold as an iceberg. I got up. I dusted myself off. I crawled back over her. I slipped under the blankets. Facing the wall. Trying not to disturb her pocket of warmth.

She turned back over on her side. She adjusted the blankets over her shoulder. She gently settled herself back against me. Back to back. Butt to butt. Warmth to cold. Skin to skin.

-----

On Sunday, they let us sleep in until 10 o'clock. Dolores could have slept until noon without any trouble, but I woke up early and got pretty bored staring at the wall. They didn't give us any breakfast, but they gave us postum with our usual sandwich at noon and called it brunch. We went outside to the yard for a couple of hours, then spent the rest of the afternoon in the day room.