Lights! Camera! Dissatisfaction...

by Kim Cayer

  I was startled but didn’t allow it to show. “Of course,” I said. I didn’t want to appear any different from the other girls and I sure as hell didn’t want them thinking I was a lesbian. Besides, after all is said and done, I did want to get fucked by a man. I always did.

  “Good, ‘cuz there’s still room on the list,” Gravedigger said. “See, a lot of us have been in here for years, and we haven’t been with a man. That’s the worst privilege being denied to us, and Rebecca and I came up with this plan. On Christmas Eve, ten lucky girls are gonna get laid.”

  “How?” I asked. “By who?”

  “By ten lucky guys in the men’s ward,” Gravedigger replied.

  “Do you know them?” I asked.

  “No, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is what they have between their legs. I’ve been talking to this guy on the other side of the wall – his name’s Rivo. We’ve been working this plan up for over a month now. Today he gave me a list of the men who are interested in fucking us and tomorrow, I give him our list.”

  “But how are we going to meet them?” I continued my line of questioning.

  “That part’s in the finalizing stages. On Christmas Eve, this place is really under-staffed. Whoever’s working all get together at midnight for a little party. Now, Rebecca’s being given pills to control her nymphomania; they’re supposed to calm her right down. But she’s been stashing them….”

  “How?” I asked incredulously. “Gilda searches everyone’s mouths…”

  “What she doesn’t know is that Rebecca is missing a tooth in the back of her mouth. She’s been putting the pill there and it looks just like a tooth,” Gravedigger proudly related. It was a unique device. “By Christmas Eve, we’ll have almost 20 pills saved up…enough to knock out the guard assigned to patrol the WHOLE building.”

  “Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” I said. What did I expect? I was dealing with criminals.

  Gravedigger secretly pulled a sheet of paper out of her pants. She snuck a look towards the shuffleboard table. I could see Pegli working up a sweat. Either he wasn’t as good as he thought or Rebecca was trying really hard. Gravedigger shook her head. “I can’t wait until she gets back on those pills. She’s been getting hornier by the minute, and I’m worried she’ll blow the plan. Anyways, wanna get on the list?”

  I took a second before answering. It was a good plan, but I really didn’t think it would work. So what harm would it do if I agreed to it? It was just foolish psycho talk anyways. “Yeah, well, I’m interested,” I hedged.

  “Who do you want?” Gravedigger asked. “John or Shackles?”

  “Uh…just like that?” I asked. “I don’t even know if they’re…my type, ya know?”

  “Type doesn’t matter,” Gravedigger said. “Remember, it’s gonna be fast work. No time to get acquainted. We get in there, find our man, fuck him and scram. So who do you want?”

  I chose the more exotic name. “Shackles,” I said.

  I went on the list.

  * * *

  It was December 23, the day before Plan Fuck went into action. I still didn’t think the idea would actually succeed – I didn’t think we’d even attempt it – but I was having a good time planning it. The key instigators – Gravedigger and Rebecca – seemed to think I was enough of a master criminal to help in its drafting stages.

  Gilda walked into the room. “KUMPLUNKEM!” she hollered. She took a perverse pleasure in my name, although no one else called me that. My new nickname was ‘Palomine’. Gravedigger had taken to calling me that and it had caught on. I really liked it.

  “What?” I hollered back. I never acted very nice towards her and why should I? She was a total bitch to me.

  “Get your ass over here, you cow!” she yelled, as if she should talk. “You’re wanted in Stavefield’s office – NOW!”

  I looked over at Dottie’s bed. “What for?” I asked her. Dottie shrugged. “Is this usual?” I whispered. She shook her head negatively.

  I got off my bed to see what the doctor wanted me for. Gravedigger passed my cot. “Don’t say anything about the plan,” she muttered through clenched teeth. Just what I needed to hear. Now I knew what the doctor wanted to see me about. My knees went weak.

  “Took your sweet time getting here, dincha?” Gilda greeted me. She was really in a grouchy mood today. Where was her Christmas spirit?

  Walking to Stavefield’s office felt like walking to the electric chair. I wondered how much they knew, and how much I could get away with. I came up with a good defense; we were PLANNING a crime to stay in criminal shape. We weren’t actually going to COMMIT it. I would say to him, “How could I help it? I checked into an institute for the criminally insane. You’re bound to be surrounded by criminals.”

  Gilda knocked on the doctor’s door and I heard him say, “Come in.” Gilda motioned me in and the doctor said, “Alice, I believe you know this man.”

  I turned and saw a man standing in the corner. For a moment I stared blankly at him. Then, with a flash, I recognized him. “Mr. Rigby!” I exclaimed. And “Oh shit!” Shit because they tracked me down. They wanted me back on that show. He was probably going to offer me double my old salary. That whole scene, which had almost been excised from my memory, flooded back. I began shaking.

  Dr. Stavefield spoke. “Alice, on this form, it says you voluntarily committed yourself and that Sebrings Productions would pay for your stay.” I nodded. Yes, that was correct.

  “Why would Sebrings pay for it?” Rigby asked.

  “Because I’m covered for medical expenses,” I replied.

  “But you quit,” Rigby reminded me. “You tore up your contract in front of witnesses. Since YOU broke the contract, we were legally not bound to you anymore.”

  “Huh?” I said. I never did know anything about contracts; I usually just signed them. Tearing one up was just a dramatic defiant gesture.

  “Any benefits you might have received from us ended one second after you tore up the contract,” Rigby said evenly.

  “Look, in all the time I worked for you, I had two measly doctor appointments,” I said. “Surely you can pick up the tab for this….”

  “Do you know how much this place costs!?” Rigby yelled. “We got a bill yesterday from Lyman’s for…,” and here he took it from his pocket, “6700 dollars for one week’s stay!” I gasped, never realizing it could be so expensive. I figured, if I lived and ate like this in the real world, it would cost a tenth that amount.

  Rigby tossed the bill on the doctor’s desk and walked up to me. “You know, we really wanted you back on Tomorrow Will Come. We thought maybe you did need a rest. But then we find out you’re in THIS place and demanding that we pay for it?! Well, Sebrings will not pay.” He turned on his heel and walked out.

  I reeled towards the doctor. “Oh, come on, doctor!” I said. “You can’t tell me that all the inmates are paying $6700 a week to stay here!”

  “No, they aren’t personally paying that,” Stavefield said. I could see he wasn’t very pleased with me. “They have been committed by the courts and the government is paying for their stay. You’re the only one here voluntarily; therefore, you are liable for the costs. Now, I’d like to know, how do you plan on paying for this?”

  “I got the money!” I shouted. “I’m rich!” The doctor only smirked at that; I may as well have said I was Napolean. “I am! You can check my wallet, which you guys still have. I have bank machine slips in there. Check them, I have lots of money.”

  The doctor considered a moment. “If this is true, we will be contacting your bank. In the meantime, I suppose you’ll want to check yourself out…”

  “What?” I shrieked. “Wait, I don’t know about that….” I pondered for a brief moment. Did I want to leave so soon? I was growing to like the joint. So the girls had a few idiosyncrasies. And besides, I didn’t what to spend Christmas alone. “Look, I feel real strange after seeing that guy Rigby. Brings back baaad memories.” I started acting a little
bit loony to help my cause. “I’m not ready to leave. Check with the bank. I’ve got enough to stay for a few more weeks still.”

  “I’ll check with the bank,” Stavefield agreed, “but if you’re lying, you’ll be out of here by supper. Gilda! Bring her back to the ward.”

  I was glad that ordeal was over. I was anxious to get back to my pals, who were all in high spirits these days. I entered the ward and walked over to Gravedigger. “We’re in the clear,” I said.

  “What was that all about?” she asked.

  “Ah, they just pinned another crime on me,” I said, very blasé. “Listen, I figured out a way to make the guard take the pills tomorrow night…”

  * * *

  December 24th. Hours before the plan went into effect. I was in the washroom, suffering from a nervous stomach. It was starting to feel like we might actually do it. I think everyone was afraid to be the first to call it quits. If no one spoke up in the next hour…

  OH, NO! I wasn’t going to be the one to tell nine horny girls that the plan was off. Hell, Rebecca was joking that she was going to try and do all 10 guys in 15 minutes. Dottie managed to get the final position on the list and she kept me awake half the night whispering about ‘John’. “I wonder if he’ll be tall and blond,” Dottie mused. “I like them that way. I hope he’s muscular and tanned. And blue eyes! I hope he has blue eyes!” In 15 minutes, Dottie, all you should hope for is that he has a hard-on. Gravedigger already considered herself and Rivo a hot item, although they had yet to see one another. No, I think these girls had been serious all along and now they had themselves a dynamite plan.

  I finally came out of the stall for air. Pussie walked into the washroom. “Hi, Florence,” I said. I no longer called her Pussie. She’d taken to hanging around with me and whenever I was in her presence, she’d make sure to blot herself. That was a real effort and I rewarded her by calling her by her given (as opposed to rightful) name. Florence stood in the doorway of the stall, grabbed a wad of tissue and started dabbing her inner arms. She didn’t say a word, which was very normal with her. Around me though, she tended to open up. “Something wrong, Florence?”

  She gave me an insolent glance. Finally, “I waited all week, ‘Palomine’,” she stated, saying my nickname sarcastically. “You never told me about the plan.”

  “Plan?” I asked. “What plan?” Of course I knew what plan – there was only THE plan – but I was under orders from Gravedigger not to talk to anyone but the 10 chosen.

  “The Fuck Plan. For tonight. At midnight,” Florence replied. Yup, she definitely knew about the plan, alright. No use denying it.

  “How did YOU find out about it?” I asked.

  “I heard Gravedigger and Rebecca talking about it,” Florence said, upset. “They always talk around me like I’m stoned and can’t hear. I may be brain-dead but I’m sure not stoned anymore.”

  “Look, no one on the list was supposed to talk about it,” I said. “I would have told you but I couldn’t. I’m sorry. Anyways, I didn’t think you’d be interested in screwing anybody.”

  “I’m not,” Florence said. “I’m dead there too. But I would have liked to help out. I’m real good at midnight crimes.” She looked at me imploringly and for the first time, I really saw how young and scrawny she was. She just wanted to come along for the ride.

  I nodded. “OK. For starters, I think we need a look-out,” I said. I had brought up the look-out issue with the Chosen 10, but no one wanted to cut their screwing time short to take a minute-long shift.

  Florence brightened. “That’d be great!” she said. “Thanks!”

  “Another thing,” I said. “We have 15 sedatives saved up to knock out whoever’s on guard tonight. I’m worried about that. You’re a professional…tell me, is that much going to kill him?”

  Florence thought a moment then said, “No, it won’t kill him, just knock him out for the night. But you should only give him 14.”

  I looked at her. “And give you the other one?” I asked. She simply nodded. “Just one?” I asked again.

  “I’m a drug addict and I know I’m on my way to a full recovery,” Florence said solemnly. “But…it’s Christmas.”

  She had a point. OK, so I’m no Nancy Reagan. But it WAS Christmas. If I was gonna get a dick, she could get a pill.

  * * *

  Gilda was working a double shift! A straight 24 hours. I guess when you’re understaffed, you choose the toughest guard to mind the fort. I had a feeling Gilda’s appointment added an extra measure of success to our plan.

  Lights out came at 10:30 sharp. Pussie started her own guard duty and stood by the door. I placed a plate of date squares by the only light in the room – on a table by an occupied bed near the exit door. Five of us had saved our dessert from supper. We had been hoping for something more appealing, but it was either that or the chicken nuggets. Which showed that tonight’s meal was a touch better than usual, but chocolate cake was not an option.

  Time was running out. It was close to 11:30 and still no Gilda. Knowing our gluttonous guard, we’d placed sedatives in all five of the squares. Pussie had assured us that if she even ate two squares, she’d be out for a few hours. Gravedigger kept making periodic checks to see if Pussie was doing her job right.

  Getting antsy, ‘Digger was already coming up with Plan B. “Ok,” she decided, “if Gilda doesn’t show, we’re going for it anyways. Fuck the consequences.” I thought that was a pretty weak Plan B and wished we’d been smart enough to think of one earlier.

  “Here she comes!” Pussie stage-whispered. We all dashed to our cots and pretended that we’d been asleep for an hour already. I affected a slight snore. Gilda entered the room. Through slitted eyelids, I watched her walk straight past the date squares. Shit! She wandered amongst the beds, counting bodies. All were accounted for and she turned to walk out. Come on, Gilda, goodies! Twelve o’clock high.

  Yes! She paused when she saw the dessert. She turned her head to look at us and I’m sure everyone in the room slammed their eyelids shut at the same time. She then turned back to the plate. Come onnn, Gilda, they’re not for Santa. Her hand reached out and she picked one up. In one push, she crammed the whole square into her mouth. I guess they were up to her standards because she went for a second and then a third. I don’t know what happened to the other two squares because she picked up the plate and walked out.

  We waited five minutes and then Pussie stealthily slipped from her bed. She checked the exit and even wandered out a bit. On her return, she said, “Gilda’s nowhere in sight.”

  “She ate three squares for sure,” I said. “How long before she’s knocked out, Florence?”

  “It should be hitting her by now,” Pussie said. “She’s probably at the party, drinking her first glass of wine. She’ll feel tired and think it’s the wine hitting her.”

  “We give her 10 more minutes and then we move,” Gravedigger said, taking charge. “Get ready, girls, we’re about to meet our men.”

  By ‘get ready’, I thought she meant psyche up for our crime, but she started teasing her hair. Rebecca undid the buttons on her pajama top and then knotted the shirt under her breasts. I took out my toothpaste but knew that if I went into the washroom to brush my teeth, I’d end up spending 10 minutes on the potty instead. I just put some on my finger and brushed it over my teeth.

  “Do the beds now,” Gravedigger commanded. That was part of the plan; we mussed and shaped the beds to make it appear we were still asleep in them. I made mine a pleasing 115-pound figure. “OK,” Gravedigger announced, “let’s do it!”

  I had a panic-stricken feeling. I wanted to drop out. Let Rebecca have my man. They could manage a ménage a trios. Somehow though, I found myself walking out the door. One of the Chosen 10.

  The 10 of us walked in a very close-knit formation. Pussie scouted ahead; she’d reach turns in the hallway and peek out, then gesture for us to follow. We reached the stairwell. Pussie entered and silently ran down a flight. She ran back u
p. “Clear!” she said. I‘d never seen her so energized.

  We went down the stairs to the third floor and stopped. We were one floor away from the men’s ward. Pussie scouted and again it was safe to descend. Pussie and Gravedigger went through the door together, the rest of us following in a huddle.

  Gravedigger looked around, worry on her face. “We don’t know the layout of this ward!” she frantically whispered.

  Pussie had an idea. “Let’s just assume it’s the same floor plan as our ward,” she said. “We’ll pretend we’re walking to our dorm.”

  It was a magnificent suggestion. It allowed you to forget visual sights and just concentrate on your sense of direction. It was a quiet but nerve-wracking trip. We reached a door where our dorm entrance would have been, if we were two floors up.

  “This should be it,” Gravedigger said. “I’m goin’ in first. Wait here. Florence, you take the rear and stand watch, OK?”

  “Right,” Florence said, walking to the back. I wanted to move away from Rebecca; she’d started moaning already and I’m sure she was rubbing against me.

  “Now, last-minute reminder,” Gravedigger said. “If Gilda shows, Pussie runs in and tells us and we dive under the beds. Got it?” We nodded. She opened the door and walked in.

  A minute later she rushed out, a grin on her face. “Come on in,” she said. We entered and saw a group of ten men standing there. Quite a ragged bunch, and the only one I really found attractive was the guy with the wooden leg. I could see shaving wasn’t a big deal around here. Not even combing your hair.

  Rebecca pushed past me. “Who’s Jonesy? Come on, come on! We only got 15 minutes!” A guy walked forward, grinning lecherously at her enthusiasm.

  A different guy spoke up. “Who’s Dottie?” he asked.

  “Right here,” she said. “Let’s go to your place.” They walked off arm in arm. He wasn’t exactly the man of her dreams, but he was tanned. He was black.