Raiford

Adam's advice frightened Gene and he stammered, "I-I, I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't mean anything! J-Just curious, was all."

"Forget it, kid. You've got a lot to learn. It's a lot different in here than it is in a jail cell. A lot of guys in here have nothing to lose and will cut your throat in a heartbeat if you don't watch it."

Gene changed the subject, being careful to not appear too nosy. "Uh, what, what's the guy that I'm rooming with like? You think he'll like me?"

Adam grinned, "Oh, yeh, he'll like you, kid. He sure will. He's a lifer, too, and he's been here longer than I have. The two of us are real tight and I'll put in a good word for you. One other piece of advice, though. . .don't do anything to piss him off. Best to just do anything he says and you'll get along fine."

Gene had missed the emphasis that Adam had placed on his answer to his question, but he quickly understood Adam's advice and nodded, "Oh, okay, I'll be careful to not say or do anything that will make him mad at me. Thanks for the advice."

"No problem, kid. Now I better get back to the office before the sarge comes looking for me. Go ahead and make up your bunk but you oughta stick around here 'till later and you get to know your way around. Mack will be in near chow time and I'm sure he'll take care of you."

"Mack? Who's Mack?"

"Your roomy, kid, your roomy." Adam answered while thinking that Gene would find out soon enough that Mack would be more than just Gene's 'roomy'---much more. Gene's slightly feminine appearance had tempted Adam from the moment he had seen him in the processing center, but he had decided that he would let his old friend take care of the real prison processing so he had talked the sarge into assigning the young newcomer to his buddy's cell. Adam knew that Mack would reward him for providing such a fresh youngster for his pleasure and he grinned with satisfaction as he turned and made his way back down the walkway.

Gene set about making up his bunk and was very careful when he had to step on the side of the bottom bunk to tuck in the rough sheets. After he was finished making the bunk, he examined the contents of the small cell, taking a lot of interest in a couple of photos that were taped to the wall over the bottom bunk. One photo showed a tall tatooed man with long hair standing next to a very pretty girl dressed in cut-off shorts and a halter. The man had one arm draped over the girl's shoulder with his hand cupping one of her breasts. His other arm was stretched out displaying a one-finger salute to the camera. The girl's nearly-bare body made Gene think of his girlfriend and the last time he had cupped her breasts and enjoyed her body. That memory morphed into another thought and a deep sadness enveloped Gene; he wondered what she was doing now; would she wait for him?; and is some other lucky guy playing with her breasts now.

Gene had to tear himself away from studying the photo and continue his survey of the six by eight metal box. At the foot of the bunks were two steel cabinets with doors. One of the cabinet doors was open, revealing two empty shelves coated with dust. The other cabinet door was padlocked with a large brass combination lock. Gene knew that cabinet must belong to his roomate, so he picked up the clothing off of his bunk and stuffed the few articles on the two shelves, using damp toilet paper to wipe up some of the dust first.

Just as he had placed the last of his meager belongings in the locker, Gene detected an increase in the noise level in the cell block and at almost the same instance, the cell door began to slide into the open position along with all of the other doors in the cell block. Gene wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he decided he better wait before going out the open door. As there wasn't a place for him to sit except on his own bunk or, God forbid, his unknown cell mate's bunk, Gene just stood in the back of the cell nervously and watched the parade of men walk by the cell. Most of those passing seemed to be oblivious to Gene's presence, but a few paused and studied the newcomer to the block with curiosity, a couple even making remarks like "new meat" or "Mac's gal" before moving on to their own cell.

Gene's apprehension grew when he heard those remarks, remembering some of the stories he had heard, complete with details of what happened to young guys like himself and terms like "gal-boys" and "bitches". The term that one of the passers-by had made about "Mac's gal" really upset Gene. "Why would they think that?', he wondered silently. He definitely didn't think of himself as gay or effeminate, despite his youthful complexion and golden blonde hair, full lips, pale blue eyes and tanned skin. No, Gene wasn't a "gal"---he was a MAN and he wasn't going to let anyone treat him as anyone"s "gal".

Just as Gene finished those thoughts of bravado, a grizzly, gruff older man, covered wtih jail house tatoos entered the cell. He stopped just inside the door and studied Gene with a malevolent look before rasping, "You my new roomy, boy?"

Gene instantly felt fear from both the man's voice and appearance and only was able to quietly stammer, "Y-yes sir. Yes."

Mac sat on his bunk and fished a cigarette out of a pack he kept in the rolled up sleeve of his shirt while he studied the youth who appeared almost cowered in the back of the cell. After he had lit the cigarette and released a flume of smoke in Gene's direction, Mac queried, "What do they call you, kid?"

"Uh, Gene, sir. Gene."

"Hmm, Jean, huh," Mac grinned. "I like that. Kinda like I dream of Jeannie from that TV show."

Gene realized the gruff older man he judged to be in his forties had misunderstood his name, substituting 'Jean' instead of 'Gene' and he hesitantly corrected, "T-that's Gene with a 'G', sir. Not like the girl on that show."

Mac blew more smoke in Gene's direction, "Whatever. I like the girl's name, so it's with a 'J' as far as I'm concerned." He swung his feet around on the bed and layed back before warning, "And I'm not a 'sir', Jeannie. And I better not hear that outta your bitch mouth again. Hear?"

The man's sudden vicious warning surprised and shocked Gene and he visibly seemed to cower further in the older man's presence as he answered, "Y-Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. J-just that you're an adult and, and that's how I was raised."

Mac's face softened barely as he scooted his legs over towards the wall and patted the bunk, "Okay, kid. Just that you save 'sir' for the guards and I'm sure as hell not a guard. Now, have a seat. No since you standing."

Gene was relieved by the man's change of tone and gratefully accepted the offer to sit on the bunk beside him. "I see, M-Mac. I have a lot to learn. I've never been in a prison before."

"Thought so," Mac puffed his cancer stick. "But you'll learn, and I'm going to teach you. Just do as I say and you'll be okay in here." Gene didn't notice Mac's right hand cup the older man's crotch as he said those words, revealing the old con's real meaning behind his offer.

"So, whatcha in for, kid?"

"Burglary," Gene confessed and then quickly added, "But I didn't do it. Honest. It was the guy I was hanging out with."

"Yeh, yeh," Mac chuckled. "They all say that. I didn't blow a guy's brains out, either. Twas the gun that did it."

Gene's eyes widened, "Y-you killed someone, Mac? Really?"

"That's what the jury said, Jeannie. Said it was cold blood, too." Mac took a deep draw of the shortening cigarette and bent one knee to come in contact with Gene's back, letting it slide down from the middle of this back to the top of his bubble-like butt, grinning evilly when the youth didn't move or object.

"Is that why you got life, S--Mac?"

Mac caught the youth's near-mistake with using 'sir', but said nothing. "Yeh, that's what they gave me, kid. Means I'll have to do probably at least ten years before I get out of here. Coulda been worse, but they did away with the death penalty in this state."

Gene's amazement with his cell mate increased as he had never met a murderer before. One with a life sentence, too! He had felt the older con's knee rubbing his back but rather than being disturbed over the contact, he felt a degree of closeness with the man who he now felt was somewhat like a father-figure, like the father he had lost when he was only ten years old. And Gene didn't get alarmed when Mac put out his cigarette by throwning it in the toilet, making an arc in front of Gene's face as it was flicked by Mac's fingers to make a dead-center landing in the metal bowl, then placed the same hand possessively on Gene's mid thigh.

Mac began to feel an erection forming as his supposedly innocent touching of the youth was going without protest or resistance and he grinned inwardly at how easy it was going to be to seduce the highly desirable boy. His friend Adam had already filled him in with the details of Gene's prison sentence and the two of them had discussed in detail how they would proceed with his seduction and conversion to be used for their own pleasures. Mac had assured Adam that he would benefit equally with himself in using what could easily be considered as possibly the best-looking youth they had the chance to encounter inside the cold walls of Raiford.

Gene was surprised as well as scared when Mac put his hot hand on his leg. He knew the moves because he had pretty much made the same moves on girls he had managed to seduce...gentle, innocent, touches in places that were not considered sexual and therefore would not elicit rejection. Then the touch would become more bold and possibly relaxing but still generating some arousal in the intended victim. No hurry, no insistence, completely innocent while waiting for the signal that it was okay to go further but never rushing the seduction. Yes, Gene knew the moves and it frightened him. For the first time in his near-adult life, he wondered..."did the girls he had seduced feel the same way when he put the moves on them? Were they frightened?"

Gene cast those thoughts aside as he realized that what he had done with girls was entirely different than what he was apparently facing. Those girls were never in any danger other than possibly losing their virginity, if they still had it, whereas what he was quite possibly facing was death at the hands of a convicted murderer. That thought was utmost in Gene's mind as he felt Mac's hand squeeze the middle of his thigh and then lightly caress the youthful leg through the rough prison garb.

Gene's seduction was abruptly halted when he heard an authoritarian voice yell "Count time. Get yer asses up." Mac immediately removed his hand from Gene's leg and swung his legs around so he could stand up, motioning to Gene to join him at the door. Gene had just joined his cellmate at the door when an overweight guard holding a clipboard stopped in front of them. Looking at the paper on the clipboard he barked, "Lewis?"

Mac quickly answered, "73560, Sarge."

The sergeant looked again at his clipboard and then at Gene, noticing his youthfulness compared to his cellmate. He grinned knowingly and pointedly remarked to Mac, "Gotcha a new one, huh? Cute, too, Lewis." He then turned his attention back to Gene, "Number, boy? Uh, Brown?"

Gene searched his memory, his eyes seeming to roll back in his head as he tried desperately to remember the number he was given when he was processed. He was relieved when Mac punched the numbers on his chest with his forefinger while he recited the numbers to the grinning sergeant. "86541, Sarge."

"Better learn that number, boy," Sarge advised with a scowl as he made a mark on the clipboard and headed to the next cell.

As soon as the sergeant had moved on, Mac sat back down on the bunk and lit up another cigarette. Gene came to stand a little in front of him and murmured, "Thanks, Mac. I-I couldn't remember my number. I didn't think about it being on my shirt."

Mac shrugged as he released a plume of stinky smoke, "No big deal, Jeannie. Takes awhile to remember, but you'll get it. Sarge was just having fun with you."

"What, what's next, Mac? Do we get to eat pretty soon? I'm starving."

"As soon as the count is over and they check it to make sure none of us birds have flown the coup." Mac studied Gene through the heavy smoke encirgling his head and advised, "You stick with me when we get to the chow hall. No one will mess with you while you're with me."

Gene's blue eyes widened, "You mean, is it safe for me? Someone going to cut me or something?"

Mac hunched his shoulders, "Never know, kid. Some of these guys in here would stick a shank in you just for the fun of it. That or they might plan to rob you. Anything."

Gene couldn't help shivering at the thought. The three months he had spent in jail while awaiting trial was in the juvenile section of the Broward County jail where he was the oldest. One of the jailers had told him the only reason he wasn't in the older male section was because he didn't look his age and would be bait for some of the older inmates. He looked with gratitude at Mac and sincerely spoke, "Thanks, Mac. Thank you. I'll stick with you because I sure don't want to get stuck with a knife or anything. I appreciate you looking out for me."

Mac dismissed Gene's thanks with a wave of his hand as he was thinking how Gene would be repaying him for his protection--and soon, "Maybe tonight," he grinned to himself as he felt the twitch in his pants.

Just then the cell doors slid open and a voice shouted, "Chow time, Chow. Come get it piggies."

Gene started to head to the door but was halted by Mac when he stood up and stuck a stiff arm out in front of Gene. "Wait 'til the crowd gets out, kid. You won't be in such a hurry when you see the slop they're feeding."

Mac's prophetic words were right on target Gene learned when they finally reached the steam tables. He hadn't ever been a fan of blackeyed peas and dynamited chicken and when he saw how the evening's fair looked on the large steam pans, he completely lost his appetite. Still, Gene let the servers throw the instant potatoes and slice of bread on his metal tray as he made his way down the chow line, thinking that at least he would be able to eat those two items. At the end of the steam tables he was served what Mac had called apple crisp and a cup of so-called ice tea. He was surprised at how many of the servers and other inmates in line knew Mac and was obvious in their show of respect for the seasoned inmate, even extending the same respect to his young companion, although more than a few studied Gene with a lot of interest, a couple even pursing their lips in blown kisses. One quickly averted his eyes when Mac scowled at him.

The two of them headed towards a table in the very back of the massive dining hall that only had three other inmates, although most of the other tables in the hall were filled with hungry men. As they approached the table, Gene could see that all three of the men at the table looked very similar to Mac and were probably the same age. Oddly enough, each of them sported prison tattoos and had that same hardened appearance. They greeted Mac in unison when he got to the table and stared at Gene with curiosity as well as appreciation.

"Hey, Mac. This your new one?" one particularly grizzed bear of a man greeted even as he shoveled another spoon of peas into his bearded mouth.

"Yeh, Rod. This here's Jeannie. Came in today."

"Th-that's Gene with a 'G'," Gene hoarsely announced.

Mac stared at Gene with fire in his eyes, "Jeannie to me, kid. I say you're 'Jeannie'."

Gene picked up on the sudden undercurrent around the table at Mac's harsh correction to his 'kid', and quietly bowed his head in acquiescence while spooning the runny potates on his tray. He relaxed when Mac put an arm around his shoulders and appeased, "S'okay, kid, as long as you know your place." Then he looked at the three men at the table one after another and pointedly instructed, "And I expect each of you guys to look after Jennie when I'm not around. Got that?"

All three nodded their heads in unison, obviously understanding that it was not a request coming from Mac, but orders--orders not to be forgotten. Gene could even sense some fear coming from what appeared to be some pretty dangerous men. It was either fear or respect, but Gene knew that these three would definitely look out for him and he had to look at Mac with renewed respect and appreciation.

"So, is Karl still in the hole?" Mac questioned the table.

"Uh-huh, that crazy German is still there. Heard that he decked the Captain when they were putting him in there," one of the men sitting across from Gene he later learned was called Tony answered. "That kraut never will learn."

"That right, Preacher?" Mac asked as he pointed his spoon at the man sitting at the end of the table.

Preacher shrugged, "That's what I heard, Mac. I guess he was just trying to give the Captain a dose of religion." Everyone laughed at Preacher's explanation, including Gene, although he had no idea what the man was talking about.

Mac put a hand on Gene's knee and informed him, "Preacher there is no preacher, Jennie, so don't take him serious."

"Uh, why's he called 'Preacher', then?" Gene asked innocently.

"Cause I killed a lousy sonofabitching motherfucker preacher for screwing my wife," Preacher answered for Mac.

All of the men at the table nodded their heads in agreement and the one named Rod added, "And he shoulda fucked him in the ass first. Ain't that what he was doing to your wife, Preacher?"

"Yeh, sorry sonofabitching motherfucker. And what made me mad was that she never let me put it in her Hershey hole!"

That closing remark was met with laughter as all of them began to get up from the table. Immediately a slender inmate just a couple of years older than Gene rushed to the table and announced, "I'll clean up for you, Mac. Is that okay?"

"Sure, sure, Weasle. You keep doing your job. Any one mess with you lately?"

"No, no, Mac. Not since you took care of them. They're scared of me now."

"They better be," Mac remarked with steely eyes as he guided Gene somewhat possessively from the chow hall.

After they left the chow hall, Mac took Gene out to the exercise yard and introduced him to several of his friends, although Gene had more of a feeling that for some reason Mac was more showing him off than just giving him a chance to meet some of the other inmates in his crowd. Either way, it did give Gene a sense of comfort and ease some of his fears as he began to see the influence his cell mate seemed to have in the prison. He had noticed that the majority of inmates were either grouped together in different bands or engaged in one activity or another while a few apparent loners just walked the perimeter of the field either singularly or in two's or three's. Mac pointed out some individuals who he warned to stay away from, some who were just plain 'crazies' and some who were nothing but trouble.

Gene studied in wonderment the layout of the exercise yard with the guard towers spaced intermittently around the perimeter fences and the razor wire on top of what appeared to be at least twelve feet of chain link fence. Two sides of the prison buildings formed an angle of the field and the perimeter fence was an arc that met the ends of the buildings. He could never see how anyone could possibly escape from such a foreboding place although Mac had told him that a few men had managed to make it out of there. Most of the escapees were pretty quickly captured, but there had been a few who had remained at large for months and even years.

"But don't even think about it," Mac advised. "Those guards will shoot anyone that even look like they'll try for the fence."

"Don't worry I won't," Gene replied as he looked at the closest tower where he saw a guard with what appeared to be a rifle walking around the catwalk at the top of the tower.