Prison Fling

by Cassandra Dee

  So I tried to be nice.

  “I’m sorry, you know I can’t,” I said as gently as possible.

  “Why not?” he pleaded, about to take my hand in his, but then quickly reconsidered.

  Oh god, what should I say?

  “I’m already dating someone, you know that,” were my gentle words. And it was true. I was dating someone, sort of. He was nothing compared to Mason, but then again, Mr. Evercore only came into my life today.

  Mark’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Because of course, I’d told him this before.

  “Right, sorry. Can’t blame a man for trying, right?”

  “You’ll find someone,” I said a bit lamely. I mean, what else was I supposed to say at a moment like this?

  He nodded.

  “Yeah.”

  And without another word, the man shuffled back to his car, dragging his feet on the pavement.

  For a split second, I thought about calling him back – to try and make amends – but there really was nothing I could do.

  I sighed and began walking to the bus stop, thoughts whirling. Because I hadn’t lied about the whole dating thing. I’d been on a couple of dates with Jim. I mean, we weren’t exactly boyfriend girlfriend, but we weren’t friends either.

  Hopefully, tonight’s date wouldn’t be so bad.

  Uck.

  After meeting Mason, I didn’t want to go anymore.

  But that wasn’t an option. It was too late to cancel without being rude.

  Besides, what was I thinking? I had a twenty-minute conversation with a gorgeous prisoner today, and I want him instead?

  That made no sense whatsoever.

  So shaking my head, I waited at the bus stop. Of course, it was late, giving me ample time to simmer in my indecision. I really didn’t know where I stood with Jim. Any other girl would have been excited, but I just wasn’t. Going out with him was turning into a hassle, something I put myself through because I thought I was supposed to.

  After all, Jim was a nice guy. Sandy blonde hair. Watery blue eyes. His white, soft hands were gentle and slim. All in all, any other woman would probably consider him a catch. Oh, and he’s a vet technician for the animal hospital in town. It was a good job. Noble. He worked with helpless animals, so that had to count for something. Right?

  So why did I want Mason instead?

  It was wrong.

  Get with it girl, the voice in my head scolded. That guy’s in jail. Are you crazy?

  But all the same, my thoughts filled with Mr. Evercore. Tall. Dark. Dominating. Those blue eyes blazing as they trailed over my body. And oh god, but I wanted him so much.

  ***

  I’d just finished putting on my makeup when there was a knock on the door.

  Jim.

  I hesitated to answer. A part of me just wanted to stay home and think about Mason all night long. Because it would be wrong of me to go on a date with Jim while fantasizing about another man. I bit my lip, trying to come up with some excuse that would get him to leave. Maybe if I didn’t answer, he would just give up and go home.

  But in the end, my conscience forced me to answer the door and smile with a welcome.

  “Hey there,” I managed casually. “Just let me grab my purse.”

  Jim smiled back, a happy-go-lucky look on his face. His pale blue eyes sparkled.

  “Sure, take your time. You look fantastic!” he exclaimed, voice eager. I could almost see that puppy dog tail waving.

  I tried to muster some enthusiasm, but inside, there was nothingness. Not have. Not love. Not excitement. Just blah.

  At the prison, I’d spent twenty minutes with a real man, coming alive in a way I thought impossible. Now, there was just buzzkill.

  Jim took me by the arm, leading me to the car. He drove to a nearby drive-in, chatting endlessly throughout the trip. I feigned interest by nodding my head and occasionally dishing out sounds of affirmation. To be honest, I had no idea what he was talking about. Trust me, I tried to pay attention, but the words were like a river in my head. In one ear, out the other.

  Why oh why couldn’t I be with Mason?

  I was already thinking about next week.

  “So what’s new with you?” he asked, turning the conversation in my direction.

  “Hmm?”

  I’d heard his words, but didn’t process them. My mind was muddled with the thought of Mason roaring as he came, those blue eyes owning my soul as he owned me down below.

  “You okay? You seem a bit distracted.”

  Oh shit, oh shit.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered quickly. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

  Jim’s brow crinkled.

  “Bout what?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “The San Nemo actually. We volunteered there today.”

  Jim frowned, his features shifting into a tight expression of concern. “Isn’t that the jail? The one with famous prisoners?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked at me sideways, hands still on the wheel.

  “Why would you volunteer there? That sounds crazy.”

  Oh no, I was about to have a repeat of my conversation with Mark from two hours ago. How could this be happening? I didn’t want to be here.

  So I tried to go easy.

  “It’s no big deal, there’s a bunch of us doing it. We’re going to set up a prison newsletter, it’s no big deal.”

  But Jim wasn’t satisfied.

  “You mean, you’re going to be working with criminals?”

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. Hadn’t I just had this conversation two hours ago with a different man?

  “Yes, technically,” were my slow words. “But I think it’s worthwhile. We need to give back to the community, and this is my way of doing that. Do you agree?”

  But Jim was no Mark. Jim was milquetoast, so eventually, he cleared his throat.

  “Well, I think that’s wonderful then,” he commented gently. Of course. That was the nice-guy answer. He was just being polite and avoiding conflict. Do real couples do this? Or do they fight it out?

  Thankfully, we reached the drive-in.

  “Would you like anything from the snack stand?” the blond man asked.

  “Some popcorn would be nice, thanks.”

  He nodded and ducked out of the car, jogging over to join the line.

  I watched him let a few elderly women cut in front of him. I wouldn’t have said anything either because it seems rude to belittle senior citizens. But still. Jim annoyed me. He was like vanilla pudding, soft and gelatinous. How did we end up together?

  With a sigh, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Mason instantly appeared, a tantalizing smirk on those sculpted lips. He beckoned me forward with his finger as he stepped back into the darkness. I chased after him, only to find myself in a bedroom – our bedroom. The mattress was huge. Mason didn’t hesitate to throw me on it. He didn’t ask nicely – he didn’t ask at all. He just took what he wanted, ravishing me hard and fast.

  Jim interrupted my daydream by reentering the car, his arms filled with junk food.

  He fumbled with the load for a moment before finally handing me a bag of popcorn. A few kernels spilled onto my skirt.

  “Oh sorry!” the man wheezed, picking them off my lap. Briefly, his fingers grazed the inside of my thigh. I looked up to see if he had noticed, but incredibly, Jim was completely unaware. Typical. This guy had no balls. He had no testosterone, no masculine dominance.

  But still, he was nice.

  That counts for something, right?

  “There we are. Sorry about that,” the blond man bowed, as polite as ever.

  God, just once, I wanted him to stop being such a good guy. It was so annoying. So boring. Being with him was like being stuck in a padded room. Every minute brought me closer and closer to insanity.

  “I hear this movie is supposed to be really good,” he prattled. “It has spectacular reviews.”

  I jerked.

  “Oh
sorry, what are we watching again?” I asked.

  Of course, he’d told me during the drive, but I honestly hadn’t been listening. How could I, when my head was filled with dirty daydreams about Mason? Even now, he dominated my thoughts, teasing me with his body, asking me why I was with a wimp like Jim when I could be with him instead.

  Being with a real man.

  That sounded good.

  Someone capable of satisfying my needs and desires, making me scream.

  “Laney?”

  My date cocked his head like a curious poodle. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, sinking into my seat, tossing a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth. God save me now. But instead, Jim prattled on and on about the film, a chatterbox that went non-stop.

  “But as I was saying, I think this remake has great potential to give us this superhero’s untold story. It’s awesome that all these superhero movies are coming out one after another. Makes me feel like a kid again, you know? I used to collect comic books. Even had some limited-edition copies. Green Lantern was always my favorite. I think I have every single issue. Well, except for one, but there was only a few dozen ever printed. One is being sold on eBay right now, but I don’t know if I could afford it. I mean, I could, but then I wouldn’t be able to take you on nice dates.”

  Oh god.

  His words ran in a tumble. Blah blah blah.

  But I caught that last part.

  Because was a drive-in supposed to be a nice date? I mean, we weren’t even at a regular theater for crying out loud. And I saw how he’d gotten the extra small popcorn, not even a medium to share.

  But I tried to be nice again.

  “I’m very appreciative,” was my murmur. “Thank you.”

  Jim sniffed a little.

  “You’re welcome,” he said imperiously before launching once more into a long monologue about comic books. I sank deeper into the seat, silently eating popcorn. Because how long could I take this? How long could I hang out with Mr. Milquetoast, pretending it was okay?

  After all, I’m a virgin, but still, a girl still has fantasies. And right now, those fantasies involved Mr. Evercore.

  But how would it work in real life?

  He was a prisoner.

  I was a good girl.

  I was his “mentor” at the prison newspaper project, we were working on an article about jailhouse food together.

  Oh god, oh god.

  This was so wrong.

  It could never work. Hell would have to freeze over for us to get together. As much as I wanted to fantasize about Mason dragging me behind a bookcase in the prison’s library and having his way, I knew it wouldn’t happen. I wasn’t that kind of girl.

  Or was I?

  I wasn’t sure anymore. After all, the unspeakable had happened today. Twice, no less. I’d creamed while talking to the man, unable to control my sweetly dripping pussy.

  And then to add insult to injury, I’d touched myself in the bathroom, thinking about Mason. Anyone could have walked in. My co-workers. Marie. Hell, the janitor. But it couldn’t wait until I got home. Right there, in the prison bathroom, I stroked my clit, pretending it was Mason’s hands.

  Plus, Mark had driven me home with my panties soaking wet. More than soaking, drenched through with need.

  What was it about that man that got me so riled up? His electrifying gaze, maybe? Or was it that powerful body? His husky voice? All of the above? He was the epitome of an alpha, a commanding masculine presence that took what he wanted.

  But them my dreams were interrupted.

  “Oooh,” Jim cooed as the movie began.

  I tried not to laugh. That would be mean. But it was ridiculous right? I bet Mr. Evercore never squealed like a little girl. No, he was more of a growler. Someone who would pin you to a bed, his lips brushing hotly against your throat. And then there’d be a low growl. A warning. His way of asserting control.

  Turning you into his plaything.

  His toy.

  His doll.

  And oh god, I wanted it.

  Bad.

  But now wasn’t the time. Because if I wasn’t careful, there was going to be a mess on the seat … again.

  ***

  Luckily, the movie ended relatively quickly. I honestly had no idea what it was about. Sometimes, I would look up and see the superhero holding the damsel in distress, but that would only fuel my fantasies.

  Because for the whole two hours, all I thought about was Mr. Evercore.

  Those piercing blue eyes.

  The massive shoulders with long, strong arms. Even wearing a baggy prison jumpsuit, it was clear this guy worked out a lot. There was just no way to get that kind of physique without putting in the hours.

  Jim’s voice interrupted.

  “Well, here we are,” he hummed melodically. And dutifully, the small man parked at the curb, let himself out, and came around to open the door for me. He took my hand, helping me to my feet.

  Again, I should have felt charmed.

  The blond man was chivalrous, opening doors and holding hands.

  But instead, I felt boredom.

  I didn’t want a price. I wanted an animal. Someone who’d tear off my clothes and ravish my form.

  And now, all I could do think about was how he wasn’t Mr. Evercore. His hand felt limp and cool in mine. His fingers much too slender. They were like wet noodles. Yuck.

  So as soon as possible, I wriggled from his grasp, reaching for my keys. A small part of me felt guilty for sure. It wasn’t Jim’s fault. There was simply no way he could compete with Mason.

  “Wait… Laney… before you go…” His voice was shy, barely a whisper.

  I turned, tilting my head in question. “Hmm?”

  Gently, the small man grabbed my arms and pulled me close, but not close enough for our bodies to touch. His face had developed a bright red hue.

  Why was he blushing?

  His breathing wavered just before he stood on tiptoes and planted a light, feathery kiss on my forehead.

  “G-G-Goodnight,” came that breathy murmur. And then blushing beet red all over again, Jim was gone, scampering to his car before making a getaway.

  I stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

  My date had been a scared rabbit.

  No sensuous mystery, no burning blue eyes.

  Instead, Jim had looked like someone who was ready to piss his pants. And all he did was kiss my forehead? Really? That was it?

  Grow a pair, will you?

  Sighing, I walked inside. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like things were serious or anything. He was just a nice guy and I was a good girl. We were supposed to date. That’s it. That’s how the universe works.

  Oh god.

  I couldn’t keep going on like this.

  I couldn’t stand the thought that I might end up with someone like Jim.

  It’s not fair! my mind cried. This isn’t what I want!

  But what do you want? a small voice reprimanded. A roll in the hay with a prison inmate? Really? You think that’s gonna be good for you instead? Stick with Jim, girlie. At least you’re safe this way.

  Oh god, oh god.

  Limply, I dropped onto the couch. What to do? My mind whirled.

  Suddenly, my laptop caught my eye.

  Hmm… that was an idea.

  Maybe if I learned more about Mason, it wouldn’t be so confusing. Because maybe he didn’t deserve to be in jail.

  Yeah, right.

  He was tried and convicted, like any other American citizen.

  But still, a girl has to hope. Quickly, I snatched up the machine and plopped down on the loveseat, getting comfortable. Ah, it was so nice to be at home by myself, instead of cooped up inside of Jim’s small compact.

  The computer took a while to boot up, the base warming up against my thighs. I shifted a bit to pull down my skirt and as I did, heat warmed my cheeks. Oh god, I was still wearing the same pair of pa
nties from earlier today.

  But right. I was here to find out serious information, not to dream.

  The log in screen flashed, and then my desktop showed. It was littered with various files and writing assignments for when I had free time. That never happened. Still, I liked to keep them there to make myself feel better. Maybe I would get to them one day. Maybe.

  For the moment, I ignored them and started up my search browser.

  Mason Evercore.

  My finger pressed enter tentatively.

  The little computer hummed, and then out blasted 760,000 results.

  What?

  But that’s just how search engines work. Anything with the word “Mason” “Ever” or “Core” got tagged.

  The first few were nothing, but soon, there was dirt. And seeing a promising link, I clicked.

  It was an article from the San Antonio Herald, published about two months ago.

  “Billionaire Mason Evercore Imprisoned for Insider Trading!” the headline screamed. “Jail Time Imminent!”

  I gasped.

  Billionaire?

  Insider trading?

  Could it be true?

  Quickly, I scanned the article. Evidently, he’d been CEO of a company when the stock price crashed. Evidently he’d sold shares right before that happened, allegedly using insider knowledge.

  What did that mean?

  I wasn’t sure.

  All I saw was the accompanying picture. Mason, dark and handsome in a suit. Scowling as he was led from his fifteen million dollar mansion in handcuffs.

  A mansion?

  Five million dollars?

  That was crazy.

  And the article went on to list his assets. Evidently, the mansion was his summer home in Nantucket. There was also his main residence, a penthouse in Manhattan, as well as an estate in Florida and a castle in Ireland.

  Imagine that!

  A castle.

  I shivered, unsure what to think.

  On the one hand, obviously this guy was rich. Mega-wealthy beyond my wildest dreams. The type who flew around in private jets, helicoptering if the skies got to congested.

  And clearly, he worked in the world of high finance. New York City was his milieu, not this sad little town in Texas.