Ohio State Prison - Interlude

Someone pissed outside the warden's office again.  Right outside.  Figured it was one of the lifers marking their territory, but no - it was that whore Francesca!  It wasn't enough that she had fucked half the male guards in that place, but the sweet cherry (she hadn't seen hers for a long time, that sunset was a low, dark moan from the beyond) on the sundae was that she had managed to wrap everyone around her little finger.  She never had a clear thought in all her life - she was muddled inside and out- devising how to steal from sad, old people from her sweet sixteen, scheming on how to steal her best friend's man because he was better at criminal acts than hers at the time (who also happened to be her landlord- how low can you be...fat old polack sticking it to her in lieu of getting rent money...even then, when his big fat hide fucked her skinny ragged ass and licked her bones clean with his delusions that she (hard to hold back the laughter)...Loved him), planning her great escape by fucking her way through the prison system from janitor to guard....she fancied she could get the warden if she licked her lips hard enough and rubbed stale, expired makeup around her aging eyes, but not this guy. 

Little did She know he liked the fresh faced, ruby-assed boys that flocked into prison, laid out bare in front of him, like a Miss America contest - they knew they had no choice in the matter.  Sweetest ass won - and once he counted you among his minions (none of this was, of course, admitted to his wife, or the other guards, or anyone...) you were living the good life, practically champagne and roses, usually to be experienced in the juvenile ward.  She hated that prissy cunt Frederick.  A pretty little puerto rican superstar, but still...boyish somehow.  He wasn't a flaming twinkie like the rest of those sissies, he had the seed of manliness which would never grow quite right.  But for the warden, it was quite right indeed.  He told himself, all those times that he let the warden fumble through the folds in his ass with the last remaining shards of his youth and manhood, that he could have anything he wanted in here.  Anything.  Francesca Hated this.  She knew, every time she walked the halls late at night from the wood shop and glanced Frederick's porcelain skin bopping her way post coital that she could Smell the arrogance off of him.  The warden - well, he didn't know any better and found solace in youth she supposed, but why did he have to like the pretty boys? She had nothing to offer - nothing.  Her mother was right in calling her stupid, and a worthless slut, her father right in kicking her out after that incident with the census taker, Francesca knew Just who she was.  And she was proud of it. But this - what could she do? How would she be able to maneuver this one?

There he is again, that prissy little prick.  Bet that hasn't even grown up to full size yet.  He was a fruity little cupcake, all doughy and under baked.  Fall apart if you looked at him the wrong way.  Yet, she admired him for getting what he needed and what he wanted.  His time in here would be much better than hers...what did she have? Fucking a third rate prison guard who let her keep her contraband? Some fancy tampons and some crumbling blush? It wasn't even her color.  She looked good in reds and plums, and this was some pale pink shit you'd find on a born again, or some prissy mouse sitting in church on Sunday, waiting for God to reveal his big plan to her.  Keep waiting, Pinky Lee.  Frederick had it all right now - and she couldn't STAND that.  There he was now - last night when she saw him - coming from the warden's office after "maintenance" duties - yeah.  He probably revved up the warden real good.  Lots of acquiescing moans and grunts only to signal that he - the Warden - was in charge.  The big man at the show.  She wished she had a cock sometimes, since she just knew she could do it better than Franky. 

She had the gumption to stab Franky in the back of the neck and tear open his throat...but that would bring consequences which she couldn't wrap her mind around, and unknowns scared her very much.  Not that anyone deserved to hear that.  Certainly not Franky...knowing that faggot, he'd probably survive.  Then she'd be cleaning toilets and being ass raped by the lowest of the low - clowns and pimps, shipped in from the mental ward.  Looking for a good time; the sort from which she gained Nothing.  No...she'd have to think it out a little bit more.  Her brain was a constant failure, but her gut she trusted.  She was a survivor and she wouldn't let him have the last word.  For now, a clandestine and healthy squat was all she had to offer up, right outside the warden's office, when he was away on one of his administrative tours.  It was piddly, and not enough, but it was a start.  Just like when she was little and she used to love squatting down in the grass next to the public pool.  She felt like a kid again, and smiled with bright pink rosy cheeks when it was Franky, on "maintenance" duty who had to mop it up.  Let's see how the warden liked his overgrown, chubby fingers stinking of her piss when next he had Franky grab hold of his aging cock.  She smiled wider and caught a glimpse of herself in the foggy woodshop window.  The pink blush looked alright after all. 

~ M. Lucia