by Cairo
God, she had a mind to ask him how Angelica—his wife—was. She wondered how well the Mrs. would take to knowing what kind of twisted sex games her husband was up to while at work. Then again, maybe she knew what type of debauchery her husband got off on.
Back arched, hand on hip, she slid her tongue around her teeth, then said, “I’d like to know what I have to do to get my commissary and personal property back?”
His expression hardened. “You’ll get your shit back if/when I feel like letting you have it.” He gave her a hard stare. “Anything else?”
Heaven stared at him for a long moment and then her eyes narrowed. “Is that your final answer, Sergeant Struthers?”
“I thought I already made myself clear.”
Heaven forced a smile, but inside she was seething. Yet, she knew enough to not piss him off, either. But sooner than later, he’d get his.
“You did. Very,” she said dryly. “Safe travels to you tonight, Sergeant.”
“Inmate, did you just fucking threaten me?”
She smirked. “No, Sir. I simply wished you safe travels.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Get the fuck out of my office, Lewis, before I write your ass up.”
“Good day,” she said and headed for the door.
Sergeant Struthers eyed her as she stalked out and shut the door behind her. Then with a muttered curse, he rubbed his hard dick.
Heaven fought to bite back her temper, but that motherfucker had her hot like fire. Yet, she had to keep reminding herself not to move off emotions. Another stay in lockup was not what she was going for at the moment. She only—
“Lewis, where are you going now?” came a voice in back of her.
She sighed, rolling her eyes. Not this bitch again. Heaven gave thought to ignoring her, but she wasn’t in the mood for a big production. So she simply said over her shoulder, “Back to my tier.”
“Let me see your pass,” Officer Clemmons said.
Heaven stopped walking and sucked her teeth. “Here,” she said, thrusting a white pass at her.
Clemmons snatched it from her, then glanced at it. “Maybe if you started being a little nicer to me, I wouldn’t have to be such a hard-ass all the time.”
Heaven nearly laughed at the absurdity of the CO not ever being a hard-ass. “Mmph. Imagine that,” she said sarcastically, taking her pass once the CO handed it back to her.
Clemmons frowned. “Did you snatch that fuckin’ pass from my hand?”
Heaven scowled. “No. I took it.”
“Take the motherfucking wall.”
Heaven gave her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? For what?”
“For being a stuck-up bitch,” she hissed. “And for ruining my fucking day. I was in a good mood until I saw you. Now take the wall.”
Heaven sucked her teeth. “Ohmygod! You have got to be kidding me.”
“I’m tryna be nice, Lewis, but if you want me to put ya ass on paper, I will.”
Heaven bit her tongue and reluctantly complied with the CO’s directives.
“Now spread them legs wide for me,” Clemmons stage-whispered. “I bet you love it from the back.”
Heaven huffed. “This bitch,” she mumbled under her breath. She cringed the minute she heard the snap of rubber gloves, and then felt her gloved hand slide over her shoulders.
“You need to start playing nice, Lewis.”
Heaven rolled her eyes. “Play nice how?”
Clemmons continued frisking her. “Don’t play. You know what I mean.”
“Uh, no. I don’t.”
“Yeah, okay. Play dumb if you want.”
Heaven sighed. “No. Tell me,” she coaxed. Not that she gave a damn. But she wanted to hear her say it. That she wanted to lick her cunt.
“You show me yours,” Clemmons said. “I’ll show you mine.”
Heaven made a face. I think not.
Clemmons’ hands went up over Heaven’s breasts, and then she pulled in her bottom lip; if there hadn’t been cameras up, the CO would have pressed up against the inmate and humped her ass.
Clemmons stepped back. “Now, get the fuck on.”
Heaven felt her blood boil. She was sick of this bitch fucking with her, and finding any excuse to cop a feel whenever she felt the need to. Nasty bitch. She gave her a dirty look and proceeded toward her housing unit. She wasn’t about to let her miserable ass get under her skin. Not today.
One day this bitch has it coming, she thought.
And so she whistled and swayed down the corridor.
TWENTY-EIGHT
This is What You Came For . . .
She rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Sabina’s snoring had reached an all-time high, and it had kept her up practically the whole night. Well—that wasn’t completely true. Though Sabina had been growling like a bear, Heaven had spent the better part of the night on her cell talking to CO Rawlings on his night off.
Their ritual of hot, steamy phone sex had been initiated once she’d slid her hands down into her panties and started playing with her clit. His deep voice had heated her skin, and caused her cunt to clench hungrily.
She wanted some dick. Hard dick. Thick dick. Thrusting dick. Dick that would stretch her pussy and give her multiple orgasms. But all she’d had at the time was her vented brush with a rubber handle. So she’d used that to get herself off—sliding the handle in and out of her clutching snatch—while CO Rawlings spoke low and dirty, and whispered sweet, naughty nothings in her ear.
She’d moaned and talked dirty back.
He’d come, hard. And she’d come soon after. Twice.
And then, two hours before the sun rose, they’d planned their next sexual rendezvous, inside one of the custodian closets.
“I need a Taser,” she’d whispered before their conversation ended.
“Say, what?” he’d asked incredulously. First she’d asked him for a smartphone—and he was still trying to figure out what was wrong with the one she already had. And now this shit.
“I said I need a Taser.”
“And how on earth you expect to get one of those, and keep muhfuckas from finding it?”
“I have a plan.”
“And what plan is that?”
“Get it to me, boo,” she cooed. “And leave the rest to me.”
“You’re bugging, you know that, right? There’s no—”
She cut him off. “Please, baby. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
He huffed. “I need you to tell me what exactly you need with a Taser?”
“I need justice,” she’d whispered.
Silence greeted her. Then Rawlings said, “Let me see what I can do,” and ended the call.
Batting her eyes a few times, Heaven took in the last three stalls and cringed. She leaned her mop up against the wall, and stretched. This was her fifth day sweeping and mopping bathroom floors and cleaning dirty toilets, all which were a part of her punishment orchestrated by the sergeant and that fat-fuck Alvin.
She hadn’t had Struthers’ dick in her mouth again since that night she’d been dragged out of her cell in handcuffs, but she’d seen him a few times in the corridors. Twice, she’d caught his gaze on her and she’d rolled her eyes at him, which only caused him to smirk at her.
He’d gotten under her skin, and she’d let him. And it pissed her off. She’d done this to herself, and yet she blamed him—Struthers—for her current predicament. Hustling for snacks and personal hygiene items was not a good look. She wasn’t a begging bitch. She wasn’t used to having to barter for shit. But here she was—thanks to that motherfucker—eating prison slop and washing her ass with soap that they gave out to the poor bitches. Her skin felt scratchy because of the harsh chemicals.
Without canteen privileges for another few weeks, she had to mooch off Sabina, who had very little her damn self. Nevertheless, she did what she had to do, knowing that this too would pass. The only bright spot in this fucked-up situation was the fact that she
still had Struthers’ cock hairs.
What she planned on doing with them, she didn’t know. But what she did know was, somehow they’d become, along with the condom wrapper, very useful. So she had his coarse hairs tucked away in between the pages of her Bible—King James Version, Psalm 105:15.
Blasphemous, yes . . .
But she’d purposefully hidden his pubic hairs there because he had disrespected her. And, she twisted the context, “Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm” to suit her own sick need for payback. And, make no mistake. He was going to pay dearly. She believed she was one of the chosen ones. Chosen to shut his motherfucking ass down.
She planned to run this prison if it were the last thing she did. And when it was time to swoop in and snatch her throne, these motherfuckers wouldn’t know what hit them. She smiled.
Oh how sweet it would be.
But before she gave that scandalous six-foot-six motherfucker a taste of his own medicine, she wanted another go at his enormously fat dick without the handcuffs, and without that Neanderthal twat, Clemmons, window-watching.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath. She needed to not allow emotions, particularly her anger, to take control of her. Whatever she did from this point forward, it had to be done methodically. It had to be well thought out. And it had to be dirty.
Period.
Her lashes fluttered open and she looked at the yellow “Wet Floor” sign and sighed. Thank God, this shit is almost over, she thought as she glanced up at the wall clock. She turned to one of the row of mirrors along the wall. She looked a hot mess. This manual slave labor was aging her.
Irked, she reached for her mop again, then tightened her grip on the handle and swung the mop wide across the floor, back and forth. She had another hour before she could break. And then she’d have to come out again second shift to clean another set of toilets. She was assigned to clean one-and-a-half hours in the morning, and another one-and-a-half hours in the afternoon.
Three hours a day.
Fifteen hours done, and too many more to go!
She hated it. But she was almost at the proverbial light shining at the end of the tunnel. She was one day closer to being finished with this ridiculous bullshit. She’d never seen so many pissy, shitty, or bloodstained toilet seats in her life.
And someone had gone as far as shitting in one of the showers.
Her knuckles began turning red from squeezing the mop’s handle so tightly as she mopped over the floor in wide figure-eight circles.
These bitches were filthy. Half wiping their asses. Not properly disposing of tampons. Not flushing toilets. The whole ordeal was nothing short of humiliating. And it made her contempt for Struthers and Clemmons that much deeper. It churned inside her like a river of battery acid.
She wanted them both to pay for trying to fuck her over. It was all she thought about since walking into her cell and finding all of her shit gone. Stolen.
The thought aroused her. Made her wet. And if she had the opportunity to place her finger on her clit, she’d mewl out.
And come.
TWENTY-NINE
Beat That Bitch With a Bat . . .
Hair in a loose ponytail, and a white headband around her forehead, Heaven—donned in a white sports bra and a pair of white gym shorts, which had been cut shorter in the back so that her ass cheeks peeked out from beneath the bottom of her shorts—stretched in the yard. Her crisp white Nikes gleamed in the sun.
To avoid unnecessary drama, she rarely came out to the yard. But, today, she agreed with Sabina. She needed some sunshine and to breathe in some fresh air for a change. Besides, she felt like running; something she hadn’t done since her incarceration. She did several yoga stretches to loosen her already limber limbs. Then, once she finished, she held her head up to the sky for a few moments, and let the sun shine down on her face. She needed the vitamin D.
Clusters of women huddled together talking and laughing as the air flooded with different types of music floating out of a variety of portable speakers.
She scanned the yard for any signs of trouble, then took off running. Although no one had come at her crazy lately, she still had to watch her back. Her only ally thus far was Sabina, but she doubted White Chocolate would be any real help if some major shit popped off.
The yard was huge, with a full outdoor basketball court, two tennis courts, and it even had an in-ground swimming pool that never got used. The grounds looked more like the surroundings of a country club more so than that of a women’s prison.
As she rounded the track, almost completing her first lap, she spotted Sabina sitting over on the bleachers holding court with a mixed group of mostly black and Latino women, either sharing tales of her dick-sucking escapades or gossiping about which female officers were fucking the male officers.
Over to the left, she noticed a group of women playing a game of hoops on a smaller basketball court. Then there were three younger women with headphones on, dancing provocatively to what Heaven believed to be some form of reggae as they dropped their asses, then eased them back up, then rocked their hips and thrust their pelvis.
One of the girls danced the raunchiest, her tongue darting in and out of her mouth as she made erotic faces, while her hands traveled over her body. Another girl came behind her and slapped her ass.
The others laughed.
Heaven squinted. One of the young women dancing all nasty-like looked like . . .
She rounded the bend.
Ohmygod. It was . . . her.
Clitina.
Just thinking her name made Heaven cringe. But what surprised her was, she’d taken her weave out and was now sporting six thick cornrows, the ends sweeping past her ass. Heaven hadn’t seen her since she’d apologized to her on the tier, which had been almost three weeks ago. And the way she moved her body, Heaven couldn’t help but think what a lucrative gold mine she’d be at somebody’s strip club. Still, all she saw in her mind’s eye was the young girl in a pair of cruddy, bloody drawers.
Heaven frowned, wondering if she’d used the Monistat she’d given her.
Still, it amazed her at how quickly the girl had acclimated to prison. It was as if she were hanging on the streets with her girlfriends without a care in the world.
Heaven shook her head, and kept moving around the track. She tried to focus on her run, and not the nasty ways of some of the women she was surrounded by, or the number of days, months, years she still had left on her prison sentence.
She missed being home—badly. The nights went by quickly. But the days seemed to drag on forever. She’d be an old bitch by the time she’d hit the streets. At least that was how it felt to her. Ten years, felt like a hundred instead.
Two laps, three laps, unaware of the burning gazes on her, Heaven pushed herself to run as many miles as she could. Lungs burning, legs aching, she increased her pace as her feet pounded the graveled outdoor track, her ass bouncing like two basketballs as her feet hit the gravel.
Her body screamed. She was practically on fire. Her skin felt like it had been lit by a blowtorch. Sweat rolled down her neck and soaked into the shirt that clung to her body like a second skin. Yet, she continued to push herself.
Another lap later, she finally forced herself to slow down until she was practically speed walking. She took the towel she had draped around her neck, then took one of the ends and mopped her sweaty brows as she slowed her pace even more, bringing herself to a normal walk.
As much as she hated taking showers in an open shower area, her body longed to be under the spigot, so she planned to head back inside the prison to get in the shower before the rest of the women started pouring back inside from the yard.
She was about to pass by Clitina and her friends again, when Clitina spotted her, and waved.
Heaven waved back.
Clitina blew a large pink bubble, then popped it back into her mouth. She said something to the three other girls, who in turn looked at Heaven, but
she didn’t pay it—or them, any mind. One of the girls—a small-waist, wide-hipped girl with spiky dark hair, and intricate tattoos that covered one entire arm—cut her eye over to the right, and frowned.
Out of her peripheral, Heaven saw someone walking in her direction, so she turned to see who the girl was frowning at. The approaching figure was the tall, lanky girl with the dreads who’d played lookout on the day Heaven had to slice up the stud, Snake—months ago.
And she wasn’t alone.
Shit.
This was exactly what Heaven didn’t need in her life right now. More drama and another damn fight. But she’d do whatever she had to do to defend herself.
To the left of Dread Girl was a young redbone with red dyed hair. She was lean and toned like a track runner, and wore a menacing look on her face. While on the Dread’s right side stood a cute, slim, brown-skinned girl sporting a short, boyish cut.
Both girls looked like former hole-in-the-wall strippers, with sexualities that swung either way the wind blew.
Heaven’s pulse ticked upward, but she kept her composure.
Dread Girl sneered. “Yeah, I thought that was you with all that sweet ass bouncing. You remember me?”
Heaven feigned ignorance, quickly glancing over at Clitina and her three comrades who were now watching the action unfold with their arms folded.
Realizing she was on her own, once again, Heaven knew this encounter would end real ugly. But she’d fight all three of them with no hesitation. She just needed to brace herself.
Heaven stared at Dread Girl, then looked her up and down. “Should I?”
“Yeah, bitch,” Dread hissed. “What you did to my girl, Snake, was mad foul. Hope you didn’t think we was gonna let you get that off.”
Heaven shrugged. “I’m sorry about what happened to snake girl, but she deserved every stitch she got to her face for how she came into my cell, and tried to push herself up on me. You should know that, since you were there.”
Dread Girl sneered. “I thought you said you didn’t know me.”
“I don’t,” Heaven snapped. “But what I do know is, your little friend was pissed that I didn’t want to give her freaky-ass any of this pussy. And, for the record, she put her hands on me, first. So, I did what I had to do. And I’d do it again,” Heaven stated vehemently. “So either do what you came to do, or please get the hell out of my face.”