by Salome Wilde
Table of Contents
Cover
Synopsis
Title Page
Copyright Page
Introduction
First Time
Carved in Stone
Honeybun
Dislocations
Sweetie
Memories
The Telephone Game
Night Watch
Lockdown
Pen Pals
Never Coming Back Here Again
Ready for Me
Gloves
Wanting
Contributors' Notes
About the Editors
Synopsis
When lovers of lesbian erotica imagine the ideal setting for a hot and heavy romance, prison is likely to be low on the list. But desire cannot be banished forever behind bars. From repeat offenders taking pretty new inmates under their wings to wardens giving in to temptation, Desire Behind Bars offers up erotic stories that may earn these inmates time off for good behavior. Whether they escape for a moment or find love for a lifetime, we adore the amazing women you’ll meet in these pages. And we trust that once you’ve met them, you’ll want to read their tales again and again.
Editors Salome Wilde and Talon Rihai cordially invite you behind bars for a glimpse at lesbian desire penned by erotica and romance authors both well-known and new, including J.L. Merrow, Sacchi Green, Katya Harris, Annabeth Leong, Geonn Cannon, L.E. Chamberlin, C.L. Boyle, M. Marie, Claire Caine, Chase Morgan, Kiki DeLovely, Alex Andrea, and Kannan Feng.
Copyright © 2015 by Salome Wilde and Talon Rihai
Hillside Press
PO Box 242
Midway, Florida 32343
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Hillside Press Edition 2015
eBook released 2015
Edited by Salome Wilde and Talon Rihai
Cover Designer: Judith Fellows
ISBN: 978-0-98158-954-1
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
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Introduction
by Salome Wilde and Talon Rihai
When readers of literary erotica contemplate the ideal setting for a hot and heavy romance—or even a playful romp—a women’s prison is not likely at the top of the list. We may delight in women in prison sexploitation flicks or pulp novels of the past, of course, even when they make us cringe. These texts say a great deal about the historical dearth of positive images of lesbians as well as of prisons, which left queer audiences having to indulge in anything the market offered, however pathologized or vilified. Today, particularly from the vantage point of contemporary western cultural norms, enjoying sex between bad girls behind bars in print or on screen is hardly a guilty pleasure at all. Perhaps just enough to make it hot.
Of course, from Chicago’s Matron “Mama” Morton to the many and varied characters in Orange is the New Black, sex in prison can truly compel us. In this space of enforced gender segregation, we have the rare opportunity to openly meet lesbians and women-who-do-women, interrupted only by the occasional male official (who definitely doesn’t get any in this anthology). With little control and even less privacy, women in the prisons of the erotic imagination must be quick and creative, even as they may be desperate or patient, experienced or naïve. They live in a world where lying and cheating are commonplace, but where truth may be faced for the first time. Lust appears in power-inflected forms, and love can be more precious than time off for good behavior. Moreover, a deft writerly touch can subtly inflect lesbian prison erotica and romance with social awareness, can turn us on even as it reminds us of injustice, including racism, classism, sexism and homophobia as they manifest within the prison industrial complex.
The fourteen stories that make up this collection welcome you into this complex arena, offering many variations on the “Desire Behind Bars” theme. Female prisoners meet and spark across differences of race, class, or (mis)perceived orientation; female guards and wardens offer promises and threats; and like finds like—though opposites almost always attract.
The anthology begins with tales of individuals coming to terms with life behind bars and finding intimacy despite their cynicism or insecurities. J.L. Merrow tells us about the “First Time,” where British repeat offender Mel (a “butch old lag,” as Merrow puts it) takes Ella, a pretty new inmate, under her wing. She shows Ella how to survive in the system, but finds herself strangely reluctant to take advantage of Ella’s gratitude. It isn’t until Ella initiates things that the two become lovers. However, Mel isn’t the only one who entered into this relationship with an eye to her own advantage, nor is she as jaded and cynical as she thinks. “Carved in Stone” is Sacchi Green’s contribution, a tale of Alex, who works with stone and ends up behind bars when she knowingly let her artwork conceal a vault of smuggled drugs and money. By contrast, Yevgeniya won an Olympic medal in wrestling. Her big mistake was to take a job as a bodyguard and enforcer for a Chechen drug lord in New York. In prison, Yev suspects Alex of being a “hit man” hired to kill her, but when strength meets strength, sparks are bound to fly.
Salome Wilde’s “Honeybun” introduces us to Bev, an aging lifer in jail for murdering her abusive stepfather more than three decades earlier. Her life with the prison’s small clique of 60-somethings is dull and predictable until she meets Honeybun Carter, a maker of contraband hooch and, to Bev, “a Southern blonde bombshell.” When the two share more than drink, Bev experiences a sexual rejuvenation and perhaps something more. But she worries: does Honeybun want her for more than a few drunken trysts? In “Dislocations,” by Alex Andrea, questions of lust vs. love also emerge. A violent altercation with an inmate left Corrections Officer Jan Thorpe with a dislocated shoulder. Now recovered and returning to her first full day of work in months, she must keep her emotions in check while dealing with her feelings for both her former lover, the warden, and for the colleague who protected her during the aftermath of the incident.
Finally, in “Sweetie” by Katya Harris, we learn that Sweetie is Mama’s girl, and she will do anything her lover wishes. When Mama offers Sweetie’s sexual favors to a guard to convince her to bring contraband into the prison, the good girl does as she’s told. Even as she uses her talents to convince the guard however, Mama doesn’t let her forget that no matter what happens Sweetie belongs to her.
Prison life isn’t all about finding love or even companionship, of course. In “Memories,” by C.L. Boyle, we are reminded that sometimes the past cannot be shaken, even by new opportunities. In an effort to fall asleep one night, her body desiring the release it has gone months without, a woman remembers the first night she spent with the lover who ultimately caused her incarceration. Surrounded by sleeping inmates and patrolling guards, she struggles with the need to be discreet while giving in to her body’s desires. Next, Chase Morgan tells the story of “The Telephone Game,” in which an inmate earns time off h
er sentence by answering the call of a unique opportunity. The better she plays the game that fulfills another’s secret fantasies, the quicker she’ll be free to pursue her own dreams.
In Clare Caine’s “Nightwatch,” voyeurism takes a different turn. When Cassie was incarcerated, she left the most private parts of herself at the prison gate. Inside she felt anonymous and invisible. But desire cannot be banished forever, nor is Cassie the only one who gives in to her cravings. From silent secrets to shared speech, M. Marie’s “Lockdown” turns the spotlight on Della, whose cell block has been on lockdown for over twenty-four hours. Tensions run high until, hoping to distract her fellow convicts—as well as to satisfy and ulterior, less altruistic motive—Della shares a nostalgic story that quickly takes an erotic turn. Sharing fantasies is also central to a tale of cop and criminal in “Pen Pals” by Geonn Cannon. A career grifter is caught and sent to prison, but not before making an impression on the woman who arrested her. The detective and the convict strike up an unusual friendship through letters, and soon they find themselves exploring new erotic possibilities that neither could have anticipated.
In the book’s final stories, we see the lasting impact of prison bonds and the possibilities of happiness after release. First, Kannan Feng shows us a woman who is “Never Coming Back Here Again.” A young inmate on the verge of release reflects on all her lifer cellmate Judy has taught her. On her last night behind bars, Judy teaches her lover a final lesson and secures a promise in the only way she knows. With even greater optimism, Kiki DeLovely’s “Ready for Me” introduces stud broad Turner (a.k.a. “Daddy”), who protects and keeps her “babygirl” out of trouble and earns her love in return. In “Gloves” by L.E. Chamberlain, Aimee is imprisoned following a fallout with her married lover. Accused of stalking by the woman she’d built her life around, she starts over in solitude in prison. Then another woman shows her unexpected kindness. A gift of warm, sturdy work gloves initiates a steamy affair between wounded, insecure Aimee and butch, confident Dan. But when Dan’s sentence is up, Aimee has to trust that this time she won’t be burned by love.
Concluding the collection is Annabeth Leong’s “Wanting.” Kam’s incarceration may confine her, but she enjoys a freedom her girlfriend Lila doesn’t possess—the right to orgasm. Kam’s sexual control of Lila does more than arouse her; it puts the pieces of Lila’s life back together, one week at a time, one assignment at a time, and one denied climax at a time. As the lovers transform the pain of wanting into a game of pleasure and promise, they help each other believe in second chances and a future of love.
We hope you relish the variety of prison lust and romance this collection has to offer, as well as its parallels and shared emphases. Whether they escape for a moment or find love for a lifetime, we adore the amazing women you’ll meet in these pages. And we trust that once you’ve met them, you’ll feel as we do and want to read their tales again and again. As editors, we’re entirely grateful for the work of each and every author, to Linda Hill for her support and encouragement throughout the process of bringing this volume to print, and to the Bella Books staff who helped us along the way.
First Time
by J.L. Merrow
I can tell straight off it’s her first time in prison when I meet her in the B wing corridor, not long before bang-up. She’s standing there hugging herself with that rabbit-in-the-headlights look, that whole this can’t be happening to me thing going on.
“I can’t believe it. How could anyone think I’d do such a thing?” she says when she sees me looking at her, and her bottom lip quivers. I want to kiss it still. She’s small and pretty, her hair a mass of blonde curls she hides her big, brown eyes behind.
“First time inside?” I ask her. I don’t soften my voice much.
She nods. “They said I stole—I didn’t, honestly. You’ve got to believe me.”
“Going to appeal?”
She looks like she’s going to cry. “Yes…I think so…I don’t even know. And how…They said I can’t even phone people from here. Not until I’ve filled in a form with all the numbers on it. But they haven’t given me the form, and all the numbers were in my phone anyway…”
“You can write,” I tell her. “Write to someone on the outside, and they can send you in a list of numbers. Don’t write anything you don’t want the screws reading, ’cos they read it all. Even stuff you send to your solicitor ain’t safe, not all the time, so be careful, all right? Where’s your pad?”
“You mean, my…cell?” She says the word like it hurts her as she points down the hall.
“Hey, you’re only two doors down from me. I’m Mel,” I add.
“Ella.” She bites her lip. “The woman I’m in with—she scares me. She’s so strange, and she keeps staring. Someone told me she’s called Mad Addy.”
“Nah, Addy’s all right. She ain’t mad. Just not all there. Shouldn’t even be in here, just there’s no one on the outside who gives a shit.”
Ella shivers, and hugs herself, looking up at me through her hair. “Can…can I ask to be moved?”
“You don’t wanna do that. Takes ’em months to sort it out, and that’s if they don’t lose the form. Nah, you hang on here a minute.” I look at the clock. Still half an hour before bang-up. Plenty of time. I walk down the hall to Addy’s cell. She’s in there—probably hasn’t even twigged the door’s open. “Hey, Addy. You’re moving. Get your stuff.”
She stares at me, ’cos, well, Addy.
“I’ll help you,” I tell her, and I start bundling her stuff up. I’m careful taking her kitten pictures off the walls ’cos they’re all she’s got, poor cow. “Got a bar of chocolate waiting for you in your new room,” I add, and that gets her on her feet and picking up the rest of her gear.
Riz sees me bringing Addy into our pad. She comes on over from down the hall where she’s been chatting up some tart who’s in for extortion. “Oi, what’s goin’ on?”
“Got you a new roomie,” I tell her. Addy smiles, looking a bit nervous.
Riz sighs. “You owe me, you slag. Come on, Addy. You can have my bunk.” I grin. Riz never liked having the bottom bunk. Addy sits on the bunk, wide-eyed and smiling like it’s something special. When I toss her the chocolate she probably thinks it’s Christmas.
It don’t take me long to pack up my stuff. No point keeping much inside ’cos some tea-leaf’ll only come in and nick it. They’re a bunch of bloody criminals in here.
I chuck half my stash of cigarettes at Riz on the way out. She blows me a kiss and gives me the finger.
Luckily, it’s Colly on duty today. She’s one of the decent screws, which means she’s only a bitch if she don’t like your face. She likes my face just fine, so we’re gold. “I’ve swapped bunks with Mad Addy,” I tell her after I’ve dumped my stuff in Ella’s pad. “That all right?”
Ella’s hovering at my shoulder. Colly gives her the eye then smirks at me. “Whatever. Long as you keep the noise down.”
“What did she mean?” Ella asks on the way back to her pad. My pad too, now. “About keeping the noise down?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “Screws. They fuck with your head. Come on, there’s still ten minutes of sosh left. Might as well make the most of it.”
“Sosh?” Ella pauses, about to push the cell door open.
“Association time. Before they lock us up in the cells for the night.”
“Oh. No, I think I’ll stay in here, anyway. It feels safer in here. Thank you.” And she gives me a shy smile as she goes inside, sits on the bottom bunk and hugs herself.
Later, though, when we’re banged up in our cell and the light’s faded from the sky outside our window, I can hear the mattress below me creaking as Ella shifts, restless. “Mel?” she says, soft as moonlight. “Are you awake?”
Girl like her in the bunk below me? Course I’m awake. “Can’t sleep?” I ask her.
“I’m so cold,” she says. And yeah, the prison blankets are as thin as they are stai
ned, but I know she don’t just mean the chill coming off these bare brick walls. I remember my first night inside, sick with worry and fear. Course, I never let on to anyone. The life I’ve lived, you learn not to let anyone see you vulnerable. But Ella’s not like me.
“I could bunk in with you,” I say. “It’d be warmer together. If you want.”
“Would you?” she says, her voice small as a mouse.
In answer, I just slip down off my bunk and slide between her sheets. She’s warm, so warm, and so tiny there’s plenty of room for both of us.
I slide my arm around her and pull her close, my chest against her back, my nose sinking into her sweet, herbal-scented cloud of hair. It’s the nicest thing I’ve smelt in months. “Better?” I ask her after a minute.
“Yes. Thanks,” she says softly, and drifts off to sleep in my arms.
I lie awake a long while. It’d be so easy to take her breast in my hand, cup it through the thin material of her T-shirt. So easy to pull our clothes aside and press myself against her, skin on skin. My nipples harden at the thought. There’s an ache inside me, a need, and I know she could satisfy it.
Instead, I just breathe in deep of her and listen to the sounds of the night. Snoring from old Jean next door. The footsteps of the screws, checking we’re all locked up tight, and a short conversation I can’t quite make out that ends in a laugh.
When I wake up in the morning, I’m almost surprised to find I’ve slept at all. Ella’s still in my arms, but it’s her stirring that’s woken me. She turns and smiles at me, then bites her lip again. “I can’t believe I slept so well. Thank you,” she says before she leans in and kisses me softly on the lips.
I want her so bad I could cry. Me, Mel, who never cries. She’s all that’s fresh and clean and perfect. She don’t belong in here, where everything’s grimy and worn and a little bit crap.