by Shelly Pratt
‘Hmm, it may be best for now.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
I leave her with a grin that completely disguises my inner turmoil. Despite being so close to my release, I suddenly feel like it is further away than ever. There’s not much I wouldn’t do to get out of prison and, right now, I’d even contemplate busting out of the joint if I actually thought I’d get away with it.
Instead, I calmly walk away from my reason for breathing right now and pick up a paint brush. The calming stroke of lacquer on wood steadies me, bringing me back to earth. I know she’s watching me and as much as I’d like to ignore her concerned stare, I can’t.
‘You know, you might just burn a hole in my back if you keep looking at me.’
‘How do you know I’m looking?’
‘I can feel you. Even when you don’t touch me, even when you’re not near, I can feel you.’
‘I’m feeling very unsettled today.’
‘I know you are. Me too. It’s to be expected after the news this morning, but don’t let it rattle you. Stuff like that happens all the time inside these walls. The fact that the guards are on to things is a big step in avoiding conflict with those guys altogether.’
‘What do you suppose we’ll be like on the outside?’
Her question stops me abruptly. I turn to face her. Her expression is filled with hope and desire.
‘The outside for us will be better than in here. You can bet your ass I’m gonna start something exquisite with you the minute I step out of those front gates, and I hope that you want that too… ’
I cock my head to the side, trying to see under the lashes that are suddenly hiding her baby-blue eyes. A lock of dark hair has come loose, seemingly intent on hiding the woman who holds all the answers.
‘I could tell you I haven’t thought too much about it, but that would be a lie. It’s all I’ve thought about.’
‘And?’
‘I’m afraid.’
‘Of us?’
‘No… Yes – I mean, I’m afraid of what my family will think of us.’
‘You don’t need to tell them about me, if you don’t want to.’ I can’t help but feel a little crushed. My ego was certainly expecting rebuttals like this when I get out of the joint – just perhaps not from her.
‘I’m not going to hide you, I just don’t know if they’re going to be ready for your story. If you imagine the harshest critics – that’s what they’ll be. They come from generations of blue bloods – beat cops that walk the street, not because they’re paid to but because they feel this innate need to protect and serve. I don’t care if they don’t accept you, because I still will. I just don’t want their prejudices to hurt you.’
‘I won’t fall apart, sweetheart. Of course their approval would mean a lot to the both of us, but I don’t think they’re going to stop me from chasing you to the ends of the earth.’
‘You’d go that far?’
‘Further.’
‘You don’t think we’ve both just clung to each other because we need comfort do you? Like, if we were both free and not previously emotionally damaged, that we’d still want to be with one another?’
If I thought the previous comments were hurtful, this one just landed the final blow to my nuts. I feel sick, her words like a thousand bad bacteria that have just landed in my gut and threaten to make me bring back up my very disgusting breakfast.
‘No, why do you?’
I swallow heavily, my Adam’s apple bobbing dangerously in my throat. I’m not sure I really want to hear her answer, but I know that I have to.
‘At first, maybe I did. I wondered why, after mourning Daniel for so long, I would suddenly fall into your arms. What made me finally relinquish my grief and replace it with feelings of happiness when I’m with you? Was it because I was ready, or was it just that you and I had such a connection that I couldn’t ignore it, despite my best efforts to not admit that to myself? Sometimes I wondered if it was just easier to drown out the pain with affection from you instead.’
‘And what did you decide?’
‘I wasn’t ready, that’s for sure. When I arrived on my first day for work at Silverwater I was so blinded by my own grief that I’m surprised I could even see two feet in front of me. I felt like I was so close to my own death. It was fuelled by grief – a grief I’d been carrying around for more than a year. And then I saw you. Without you even saying a word I felt like the look you were giving me was like an electrical charge from a defibrillator. You sparked life back into me instantly. Whether I wanted to or not, I liked it.’
Her words are like whiplash. At first they sting like a bitch. Then she pulls back and resends her thoughts to my ears sweeter than ever. She stands before me, more vulnerable than I’ve seen her. She wants me to see, and I do. I understand completely. I know her sorrow, but I’m lucky enough to be a part of her happiness, too. I’m her reason for tomorrow, and she’s my reason for making it out of here in one piece. I’m not going to let a gang of rapists take those reasons away. Over my dead body.
‘Do you know what?’ I say.
‘What?’
‘I can’t wait to get out of these walls so that I can really discover all there is to know about you. I want to explore each and every part of Mercy Cole. I’m going to uncover the parts of you that you can’t show me in here.’
‘Do you mean that?’
‘Look at my face, sweetheart. I’ve never been more serious in my life.’
#25
The library has become such a place of comfort for me that I feel quite emotional knowing that today will be the last day that Saxon and I will be there together before he finally gets parole.
As I think about what my life has become, and it fills me with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I’ve by no means have fully moved on from Daniel and, if I’m honest, I’m not sure I ever will recover from what we had. But being with Saxon makes it easier. Sometimes I’m afraid to bring what we have out into the real world. Sometimes I want to keep it locked up in the library where I know it’s predictable.
I wait like a nervous school girl at Saxon’s cell. He’s was in the shower block when I arrived, so I’ve been pacing the concrete halls of F Block, impatiently awaiting his return. It’s been over a week since we received the first warning about payback for the Lebanese ass kicking, but I still don’t feel any less on edge. I know I’m the least able to protect him, but I feel better when we’re together.
The sight of him strolling back towards me sends my heart into a gallop. Funny how any other inmate walking with Clarence could make me cringe and hate, yet Saxon makes my body swell with emotion and love. Do I love him? Yes, I do. I’m working on it. There’s varying degrees, after all. And I think that the most important thing is to not compare him to any other person who I love, or who I have loved.
With Clarence behind him, he smiles. His mouth parts just a little, reminding me what it was like to kiss those lips and taste him for the first time. The next two weeks of minimal contact are going to be a rude shock. I’ve become so used to having him around that I think normal shift duties are going to seem like torture.
When they reach me, I step back to allow Clarence to unlock Saxon’s cell.
‘Is prisoner Miles ready to start work?’ I inquire. Saxon smirks as he walks into his cell to put his toiletries bag away.
‘He’s all yours,’ says Clarence. ‘You guys are on your own today – no escort anymore. The warden has determined that the threat has subsided, especially since the inmates were relocated to the other cell blocks.’
I don’t know whether to be relieved or stressed about the new developments. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for being alone with Saxon. I just want to make sure that he’s being adequately protected and I’m not sure I’m the person for the job. I almost request a change of guard, but one look at Saxon’s face as he comes back out of his cell and I know I can’t leave him on our last day in the library together.
Clarence leaves us and we head off, much slower than usual. Both of us don’t want to rush. It’s almost like we need to tattoo the experience into our minds for the last time, to remember how it all began and never forget how the first sparks of our relationship started.
When we reach the library, I watch Saxon gather the last of the varnish. There’s only one bookshelf left to coat. It won’t take all day, but we’re not about to cut short our time together.
I sit on a stool and watch him as he methodically strokes the brush back and forth.
‘You’re quite good at that you know. Maybe you could start a business when you get out of here?’
He laughs heartily at my observation.
‘You know why I’m so good at it?’
‘No, why?’
‘When I was about eleven years old I was quite the terror child. I thought it’d be cool to graffiti my dad’s fence in the backyard. He was so pissed with me that I got such a licking. Not only that, but he made me paint over it five times – the whole damn fence! My arm ached for weeks on end. If you think tennis elbow is bad, painting arm is way worse. Needless to say, I never did it again.’
I laugh, unable to hide my amusement over the image of a younger Saxon in trouble.
‘Ah, you laugh, huh? You mean to tell me you never got up to any mischief?’
‘Well, only since we’re sharing will I tell you. I did get into trouble once or twice. The time I remember most, though, was when we were staying on my father’s friend’s plantation. I went off exploring on my own one day and came across the large shed on the property. Of course I let myself in.’
‘Of course,’ he replies, smiling as he keeps the strokes going on the bookshelf.
‘Well I found all sorts of stuff that took my interest. Mainly, a packet of matches.’
‘Uh-oh… ’
‘Uh-oh is right. I’d seen the owner smoking and was fascinated by the way he struck the match and lit his cigarette. I wanted to try lighting the redhead myself. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting the fire to be hot. Crazy, right?’
He just shakes his head at me, complete disbelief written on his face.
‘So, anyway, needless to say I burned my finger and dropped the match on the floor of the barn. The unfortunate thing was there was loose straw littered on the ground and some of it caught alight. Thankfully the owner’s son was nearby and he came and put it out when I started screaming.’
‘I never would have pegged you for a little pyro.’
‘Yeah, well, I was only six and didn’t know any better,’ I say defensively. He puts his brush down and comes and places his arms around me.
‘Thanks for sharing that with me. Now I know that if I ever sleep over not to leave any matches or lighters lying around.’
‘Why you!’ I swat his arm, knowing full well he’s teasing me. It feels good. It feels… like being alive.
‘Oh I’m gonna have to get you for that,’ he grins. Without warning, he starts to chase me around the library. I run, because it feels so good to do so. I feel young, free, light-hearted and spirited. He chases, not really intending to catch me. I squeal a little – not because I’m afraid, quite the opposite in fact. It’s a bit of fun that I’ve been sorely lacking in my life.
Saxon finally grabs me around the waist and whips me off my feet. There’s no chance to make a sound. He crushes his lips to mine, holding me tightly in his arms—his arms that are so safe and secure. I kiss him back, hungrily. I need this man, maybe more than he needs me.
I forget the world and let him take me to our own place. He’s sweet, loving and tender, although rough fingers tell another side of him – a side that’s animalistic and needy. They fumble with buttons and grasp at the material of my bra, needing to pull the material away from my flesh so that his mouth can replace it with hungry kisses and gentle biting that stings my nipples as his teeth graze over them.
My hands find his hair, fisting the short length that has grown out since spring came to town. He groans as I kiss his neck, needing to taste all of him. His mouth leaves my breasts and makes its way towards my lips. He teases them apart and slides his tongue inside, tangling and teasing my own. It’s barely foreplay, because neither of us can wait to devour the other.
We roughly shed our clothes, just as eager to help each other in between undressing ourselves. He eyes me lazily, seductively. He now knows how to treat my body so that I fall apart in his hands. When he wants me to come undone, I do. When he wants me to call out his name, I do. And when he wants me to give him all of my heart, I do. I can’t help it. I relinquish everything that I have, because I’m caught up in his spell. There is no denying him what he wants. And he wants me.
Our bodies rock together, unable to fight the swelling desire that leads us down the path to ecstasy. My pleasure is his passion and he delivers me an earth shattering orgasm as I wrap my legs tightly around his waist, squeezing him and holding him against my body for all I’m worth.
In return he grips my shoulders, thrusting his shaft to the hilt inside of me. I feel all of him and cry out. He shushes me by covering my mouth with his own. I bite his lip, unable to contain myself as he persists in making me all his. My hands slide lower down his back and grip his ass, urging him to move harder and faster inside of me.
‘Look at me,’ he growls.
I open my eyes and stare deep into his dark, jade-green irises. They’re smoldering, completely ablaze from the fire I started within him. He wants me to see how I make him feel. He wants me to know that he’s mine and that I have all of him. And when I finally see all that he feels for me, he goes and says it.
‘I love you, Mercy.’ His voice is so husky, strained behind the orgasm he has been holding back. But now it’s all on the table he shudders and lets go, releasing an orgasm that pulses deep inside of me. I can feel every hard inch of him throb against my dark, wet depths. The pulsing of his erection forces me to spasm around him for a second time. I don’t come as hard as the first time, but it’s a pleasurable release all the same.
I’m breathless, unable to return his loving words. Okay, it’s not just that, but I’m so caught up with emotion that tears start to spill over. I can’t help it. I don’t want to cry and yet it’s like he’s opened up a flood gate. I cry because I’m letting go of the past while at the same time embracing the new. He can see it, and I know I need to feel no shame that I haven’t uttered the same words back. He can see how I feel – more so than words could ever tell him.
He holds me, caresses me, and allows me to be exactly the way I want to be with him without judging me. He kisses away the tears from my cheeks, calming me and making feel safe and secure.
Our secret was an unexpected force that stole into my life and picked up my broken heart when I needed it the most. For that, I’ll be forever grateful to Saxon for showing me that it’s okay to love and be loved again.
We compose ourselves, knowing that not a single thing between us can look amiss when we walk out of that door before heading back to the cell block. We certainly can’t look like we just made mad, passionate love and shared a little bit of our souls with each other.
He watches me carefully, tenderly, while I dress again. I can’t take my eyes off him, because I so want to speak the words that are right on the tip of my tongue.
‘Saxon, I—’ He puts his finger over my lips, silencing me. He smiles and winks at me.
‘Some other time, okay?’ I nod, knowing that he’s right.
We quickly pack up the rest of the library, knowing full well we’ve already stayed longer than we should have. The last thing we want is for people to come looking for us.
When we’re satisfied that everything is in its place, we make for the door that will take us away from this library for good. I’m actually quite sad about it and wonder if perhaps I’ll still come in here from time to time, just to rekindle the memories of the time we spent in here.
I’m almost at the door when he pulls me back into his arms. H
e cups my face in his large hands and gently kisses me. He reluctantly pulls away and sighs.
‘What was that for?’
‘I just wanted to get one last kiss in.’
I kiss him hard on the lips. ‘There, have two!’
He grins at me, while I start to unlock the door. I’m stepping out into the hallway, about to make another quip towards him when I feel it. Ice-cold suddenly fills my chest. It’s unexpected and makes me struggle to catch my breath. I feel Saxon’s arms reach for me from behind and it’s all I can do to stay on my feet. My eyes suddenly focus and they catch the receding figure of a Lebanese man.
My brain tries to process, but my motor function is struggling to keep up. I know the guy is an inmate because he’s wearing the prison uniform. He’s vaguely familiar but I can’t quite place him. Slowly the cogs turn while the burning in my chest becomes greater. I just want it gone. I need to get rid of it.
I clutch my chest, finding the offending object. It’s hard and stuck tight. I grab at it and yank with all the strength I have left.
‘No!’ Saxon cries out. I guess he didn’t want me to do that.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
‘No, no, no! Fuck! Please, Mercy… Sweetheart, hold on.’
His large, capable hand reaches for my chest and presses down hard, so hard that I feel suffocated, like I’m running out of breath. I hate that, because there’s so much more I want to say to him. Like, I love him. And, I love Daniel, too. Would he mind if I said I loved them both? Would he still love me?
Saxon’s talking now, but I don’t know who to. I can’t understand him. My radio is in his hand, so hopefully it’s someone who can help me with the pain in my chest.
‘Fuck!’ It’s a scream this time. Not coming from me, of that I’m certain. I couldn’t talk even if I wanted to. I’m too cold. Freezing. I wish he’d warm my body the way he does when we make love. I want to feel warm right down to my toes. But the cold is taking over. I’m shaking. I hate the shaking. Makes my mouth not work right. I want to talk. I’ve got a lot to say today. Too much that just won’t get said. I wonder if he’ll understand my expression instead.