Behind the Gate, Page 2

  The guard has a hold of his chain by the back and starts walking him over to where I am standing. I still feel like I am being watched, but work has to continue. I trust my co-workers to have my back, plus I have my “dick hit” tool in my pocket. It’s the only weapon I am allowed to carry while inside the prison walls. It’s plastic and looks like a dick head at the end, it’s really just a throat punch, but Cori and I joke that it’s the only dick I hold in my hands.

  Xavier walks towards me and I automatically have a sense of unease that I can’t explain. He seems nice enough, rough around the edges sure, but nice enough. I tell him and his guard to follow me, and we walk down the hall to the first exam room and shut the door.

  “Y’all already got my shit so I dunno why I gotta come in here,” he says.

  “I gotta look at and write up about your tattoos, take some blood, and do a general exam.”

  “Y’alls dime, but shit, every time I come in here I gotta do this shit?”

  “Stop breaking the law, asshole,” the guard mumbles under his breath. I fake a cough to hide my laugh because the last thing any of us wants to do is get on an inmate’s bad side.

  Xavier glares at him. I try to diffuse the situation by getting back to work and start cataloging his extensive tattoo collection. Then I take some blood and get ready to finish up his exam when there is a loud bang on the other side of the door and people yelling. Sounds like a wrestling match out there, but it’s not infrequent to hear a guard fighting with an inmate. But this time, something feels different, like the air in the room becomes static electricity. I hear a deep voice yelling and it seems to be getting closer to the room we’re in. The guard looks slightly taken aback by the outburst going on outside our doors.

  “Don’t you need to go out there?” Xavier asks cooly, he seems smarmy like a snake.

  The guard who I think is named Burton or Benton or something says, “Not unless they come fighting in here, then hell to the…” his words are cut off when the door burst open and guards and one inmate come tumbling through. Wouldn’t you know it, it’s blue eyes and he looks like he’s ready for a fight. I shriek and grab my good ole dick hit and move to a corner. Xavier tries following but blue eyes lunges at him. In the melee I can hear blue eyes screaming something about, “he’s taking too long,” and, “he’s gonna hurt her,” but I have no idea who the ‘her’ is in his rant. With all of the crashing and thrashing that he is doing, I’m surprised Xavier isn’t sitting in the corner with me.

  There are now 5 guards, blue eyes and Xavier between me and the door. In reality, between me and Jack. Because I will fight tooth and nail to make it home to my baby boy.

  Xavier creeps closer to me in my corner, a slight smile on his face like he just learned a secret. You would think a man in his position would be pissing his pants right now, but nope, he comes toward me and reaches out to me. Nobody tries to grab me! Before I realize it, Xavier is on the floor clutching his upper thigh. All that runs through my head is, “Ha the dick hit didn’t hit the dick, but it still hurts. I'm a boss bitch now!” Before I can throw my fists in the air and do a little Rocky dance the crowd goes silent. Blue eyes isn’t fighting anymore, just staring down at Xavier and shaking his head. The guards are working on getting blue eyes out the door when I realize that he burst through the door with his feet still in chains and his hands cuffed, albeit in front of him, but still cuffed.

  Impressive? Yes.

  Scary? Hell yes!

  The guards haul him out of there and back into line to get checked out. We can’t take him to his cell because of disease restrictions, so he has to wait his turn.

  I glance over at the ground and Burton or Benton or whatever the guard’s name is trying to help Xavier up. With him lying there writhing around I see that he is trying to say something. “You will pay for this bitch,” and “I got your ass,” are some of the things I can make out. Totally not scared of my job, but the way he is saying it and the look in his eyes has me pausing before I tell the guard to un-cuff him so that I can do his exam. I am a little leery about having him with no cuffs on, but I have a job to do. Benton/Burton hauls Xavier to his feet and proceeds to un-cuff and unshackle him.

  “I’ll keep the chain that wraps around his stomach and feeds to my handle.” At that moment I could kiss whatever his name is.

  Everything else is pretty unremarkable except the giant bruise I see on his thigh from my hit. I can’t help but give a tight smile when I see it, I don’t want Xavier to be set off by my happiness that I protected myself. Once done and dressed in his prison issue scrubs, the guard escorts him to his cell and the relief in me is immediate. I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. Most inmates don’t scare me, but sometimes you get that one that gives you the creeps from the start. Xavier is one of them.

  After finishing up with 3 other inmates in what feels like record time, I see that there is one left. Blue eyes himself. He looks a little worse for wear but still good enough to eat. He’s tall, like I have to look up to him. Not hard when I am only 5’3, but this guy is very tall. He looks hard in all the right places with forearms that look like I could hang off of. I am a sucker for a nice, toned forearm. This guy just oozes sex even when he got into a fight earlier. I bet when he is not in prison women throw themselves at him. He is the type of guy that you want to climb like a tree and sit in his lap and let him use his God given talent to make a girl cream herself. Shit! I gotta tame the flames that are my vagina.

  Once I call his name, Damian Shaw, I realize how much he looks like a Damian. The devil with blue eyes himself. He gets up and saunters towards me, even in shackles the man fucking saunters! My vagina is instantly on fire, and I have to send a “down girl” to her and send his image to my mental spank bank for later.

  Escorting Damian and the 2 guards that are with him into the exam room, I feel his eyes on me. But instead of it putting me on alert for danger, this feels like a caress. Like soft hands are roaming down my back, or maybe it feels like little licks from a tongue, warm and soft. I am trying to get these thoughts out of my head when I look at him as he takes a seat and I realize that he doesn’t have a guard chain. The one that feeds to a handle for the guard to hold. This worries me because I did just watch the guy go psycho a few hours ago. Even though he has 2 guards with him because of his earlier outburst, I still don’t like that he doesn’t have a chain.

  “Why doesn’t he have a guard chain?” questioning one of the guards whom I feel like I have seen before but don’t quite remember.

  “Does it fucking matter? Just do your job.”

  “Ha, someone had some rotten asshole at breakfast,” I mutter under my breath. I look up to ask my first question and see Damian is staring straight at me with a perplexed expression. Like he is trying to understand me and keeps coming up short. At first I think he didn’t hear me, but then he smirks and it is like looking at the Devil himself. An angel of sin, one that makes you want to do bad things, but love every minute of it.

  “Damian, do you have any tattoos?”

  “Enough.”

  “I need to see them please.”

  He just grunts at me like some caveman and stands. I instantly go on high alert and reach into my pocket for the dick hit. Just feeling the plastic and sliding my fingers into it and making my fist has me feeling better.

  “Relax lady, I just need to get my shirt off.”

  I sort of feel embarrassed then think, ‘eff that, he's psycho enough to kill me’ and it's then I realize that I hadn’t looked at his conviction. I always look at an inmate’s crime, force of habit and morbid curiosity, but for some reason I didn’t. I try not to read too much into it. The guards un-cuff the Devil, I mean Damian, and he removes his shirt. I almost sigh when I catch sight of his washboard abs and the V. Lord help me the man has a V and a happy trail! I don’t understand it because I have seen some seriously jacked dudes come through this clinic, but nothing has been more attractive than this man! My mouth goes dry
like my body needs it for other places. Sitting down, I start the task of looking over his body, like it is a chore. He has a half sleeve on one arm, full of vibrant colors, and upon closer examination I realize that it is comic book characters. The whole sleeve is intricately designed, and probably took a lot of needle time. He has a few other tattoos, one that spans shoulder to shoulder. In script it says, “I am not afraid, I was born to do this,” and I think about how the irony is strong in this one. Obviously not afraid to have landed him in this place. Another one on his side, this one says, “I desire the things which will destroy me in the end,” and I almost chuckle out loud because my mind is running wild with the fact that he is now in prison and all of his worded tattoos are basically warnings saying ‘don’t worry I know it’s gonna destroy me.’ He has no gang affiliation tats on him unless he is in Wonder Woman’s crew and there is a comic book gang going around.

  “Is that all of them?”

  “Yep,”

  Well, ok king of the one word. Every time I go to write on his paperwork I can feel his eyes boring into me. Like he is assessing me as much as I am him. I go about collecting my blood draw supplies and apply the tourniquet to his arm, then I bite the finger of my glove off so I can feel for a vein. I am instantly greeted with a growl as I start running my finger over his bulging veins. Quick and easy, good stick, got the flash and I'm done, over in 5 minutes. Now comes the hard part. Gotta get him to strip down to his underwear so I can check him out, I mean exam him in a strictly medical way.

  “Need you to strip to your underwear so we can finish up and you’ll be on your way.” I glance at the clock and realize that my shift is almost over. Really, 10 hours of inmate transfers? Sheesh no wonder I am feeling tired, it has been non-stop today! Luckily, I'm off this weekend and maybe Jack will let me sleep in. Fat chance of that, the kid has an internal alarm clock of six thirty.

  Damian hasn’t stripped yet, and I realize he is staring at me.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then you need to get undressed.”

  He starts to take off the prison issue tennis shoes, then pants. If a thigh could be sexy, then this man has some sexy thighs. Big, but not tree trunk big. Just enough to complete the package that is Damian. As I continue my assessment of his perfect form, I notice the 2 back dimples that lead down to the most perfect ass. This is the kind of ass that would make any girl go bat shit crazy over. You want to just squeeze it and maybe bite a cheek or two. When he turns around, I see a semi hard erection in his boxer briefs. Well then, Mr. Blue Eyes, nice to see that this is not a one way attraction. I may or may not have dragged out looking at his body for my assessment.

  I cannot believe I am standing here with my dick half hard in front of this woman! I mean what the hell is wrong with me? I’m in prison, but not by my own doing, and here I am lusting after this little pixie of a woman. Seriously, she comes up to right under my nipple. I don’t need any kind of distraction while I am here, and this is all she will be.

  She puts her warm hands on me, and I can’t help but notice they are shaking a little. Is she scared of me? Other than earlier I have given her no reason to be scared of me. She has to know I was trying to protect her, and it had nothing to do with her really. That Xavier fucker is dangerous, plus you never know what guards he has in his back pocket. Prison workers, for the most part, aren’t always what they seem to be. It’s easy to buy things in here for the right price, or should I say the right payment. I should know, I have been to quite a few prisons. Half the fights and deaths in these kind of places aren’t random or gang against gang like most think. Some of these are prison employee ordered hits.

  As she continues on with her hands all over me, checking me over for other marks and identifiers, I have a minute to study her. She’s short, like crazy short. I know I’m tall, I’m 6’6, but she has to be barely 5’4. Straight brown hair and huge brown eyes with a nice little petite nose and dimple when she smiles. I saw her smile when her friend walked in. Her teeth are straight, almost as if she has had braces, but I notice her teeth are a little crooked on the bottom. Enough to make it cute and adorable, not that she chewed rocks as a kid. I glance down at her hands and notice no wedding ring and no tan line where one might be. Interesting. When I get to her scrubs, which are plain, I notice her tits are more than a handful and I get excited even more. I say a silent prayer that I don’t go full on hard in front of her, never mind the 2 guards, I couldn’t give a shit about them. Don’t need to scare the girl away. Sure, I’m cocky, but years of banging nameless women have made me that way. I know what I have between my legs, and I know how to use it to my advantage. You were going to leave satisfied after a few hours with me. That’s for damn sure! If her scrub top is any indicator, she has a flat tummy and nice wide hips. The type of hips that you can hold onto when you are fucking her from behind. That ass of hers is damn near perfect. I would break this girl in half, even after I saw her defend herself against that scumbag Xavier. I still don’t know how she got him down like that, and something tells me I don’t want to either. But I don’t think she realizes how crazy he is and that she may have put a target on her back.

  “You're all done, you can get dressed and the guards will take you to your cell,” her voice is a little breathy, like she had run a mile.

  “Thanks.”

  So what? I am a man of few words, choosing just to observe rather than speak my mind, but it's ok, I say just enough when it counts. Like dirty talking in a woman’s ear. That’s when the shit counts. Or giving direction to a woman when she’s sucking my dick.

  After I dress, the guards cuff and shackle me, but still don’t give me a guard chain. That’s cool, I’m not going to go crazy again. I only save that for the people who have a need to fear the Reaper. Sounds cocky, but I know how to back it up, been backing it up all my life.

  I’m escorted out of the medical building and down a path to housing A. Which is the worst of the worst, and I guess I’m considered it now. When we reach the door, we have to wait to be buzzed in, then walk to another door and get buzzed in. Making our way through that door, we happen upon a guard post with 2 guards and 3 hallways all with cells on each side. The smell of slowly dying men is overwhelming. Body odor, sweat, and defeat all permeate the air. Looking in the little windows as we walk to my cell, I can see men with their heads hanging down and some going crazy over thinking there is ‘fresh meat’ coming. Each cell houses two inmates, except one.

  They walk me down hall C and lead me to a cell. Once inside I meet my roommate, the man I tried to get to earlier. Xavier Richards. This guy is a grade A douche bag, but I know everything about him, everyone does. The notorious gang leader who seems to be an unlikely savage. Allegedly burning men, women, and children alive if you cross him, but that is all hearsay, which means he probably has a lot of higher up contacts that keep his nose clean on paper. He's already claimed the top bunk which I guess means I will be closest to the shitter. Fuck my life. He recognizes me instantly and bares his teeth at me like a wild animal. Don’t worry asshole, the feeling is mutual. All we can do is stare holes through each other as the guards remove my cuffs and shackles.

  The drive home is exhausting, and by the time I make it through the doors I am ready for a hot bath. But my little man awaits, wanting to hear all about my day. I swear he is going to be a guard when he grows up. He always asks me about my day, curious about the day’s festivities. As soon as my feet hit the door it’s ‘what happened today? Anything cool go on?’, and I look to my mother who is packing up her things for help with his questions, she of course just gives me that look that a mother does. That ‘ha ha you were the same way when you were a kid, so you are on your own ‘kind of look. With a hug and kiss to Jack and a kiss on the top of my head for me, she is out the door. She knows how he is and that there is no dissuading him from hearing all the nitty gritty details. The kid is determined, a quality he gets from me and not his sperm donor.
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  “Settle down, sweets, my day was boring, just new inmates,” I tell him. I am certainly not going to tell him that momma feels like she is being watched, a gang banger tried coming at me, and I had to use the dick hit, or that tall, handsome, and dangerous Damian made me want to jump him. Nope, those words won’t ever leave my mouth. Disappointment is evident in his walk as he goes into the living room to sit down with his little shoulders slumped.

  “So what's the plan, Stan” I can see a smile being fought, but still a smile.

  “Mom, nobody says that these days! You're so old!” Ouch.

  “I know that, but every time I say it, it makes my baby boy smile, and you know I love that smile! That smile makes my heart melt. I made you from scratch, don’t ever forget that!” I tickle his side and he cracks up which results in an all-out tickle war, plus slicing each other’s butt cracks with our hands. Juvenile, yes, but you would be surprised how funny it is when someone bends over and you slice them.

  “So what ya wanna do this weekend, boy?”

  “Can we go to the movies to see that new fighting one?”

  “Sure baby boy, now let’s get rolling on dinner and a shower.”

  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. With a heavy sigh, I get on up outta my warm bed and walk into Jacks to wake him up. Kid sleeps like the dead, so I have to take all of his blankets off of him and his pillow to get him to move. One day I am gonna put his hand into some water, or attack him with a water gun. It is my civic duty as a mom to embarrass and have as much fun with my kid as I can. Seeing him rustling around lets me know he's up, and I can go start getting ready. He reminds me a lot of me, I hate waking up early, but we both hate starting our day late if we sleep in.