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Six.
That’s how many times my friends have tried to set me up with different men from various dating websites in the last forty-five days.
“You’re not getting any younger and if you keep to yourself, you’re going to end up all alone,” a few of them say from time to time.
“I want some grandchildren,” my mother tells me over the phone one day. “Do you think that’s going to happen anytime soon?”
“Besides, if he’s serving a life sentence, how is he ever going to be able to be there for you?” my friend asks over coffee one weekend. “I mean, sure you see him every day, but an hour a day isn’t a relationship, Kerri. It’s more like sex buddies.”
Deep in my heart, I know that what they say is absolutely true. I am in love with a man who has been placed in jail by society for breaking with its social contract. With a man who will never be getting out from that jail. Who is caged up like a beast, his freedoms denied.
What is it exactly that I see in this relationship? Am I going to move in with him? I can’t. Unless it’s in his cell. Are we going to have a wedding? It would have to be in the jail. And then what about my life? Am I really that selfless to be able to give up waking up next to a man, to give up sharing how my day went with a man, and to constantly wonder if he’s safe? Am I content being along for the rest of my life for the sake of love?
One.
That’s how many times I do go out with guys after my friends beg and plead me to keep an open mind.
I hated that time.
The first and only time it’s with an accountant named Barry. He meets me at a restaurant and proceeds to spend the whole evening telling me about how much money he makes in his recent business. It would be great to celebrate in his success except the man spends so much time talking about himself that I doubt he ever stopped to wonder anything about me. The most he knew about me was my name. I politely declined a second date as we exited the restaurant and I made sure we walked in opposite directions.
That night, as Barry left, I realized the mistake I made and I showed up to work at the jail. The people looked at me strange, but I told them how I had some unfinished paperwork and inmate evaluations to conclude and they just shrugged it off.
It was evening and the prisoners were given some free time after dinner. I put on my scrubs after changing out of my dress to avoid any unwanted attention and waited until I saw Lucien walking back from the canteen. He immediately saw me, and his eyes flashed. I gave him a smile and our code was ex
changed.
Ten minutes later, he came to the Alcove where I was waiting for him.
“Surprised to see me?” I asked, turning toward him, taking off my scrubs in front of him so I could pose for him in my sexy lingerie.
“I don’t fucking care why you’re here,” he said, his eyes hungrily devouring me. “I just want to fuck you so bad right now.”
His cock was as thick as a lead pipe and I knew he wasn’t lying. I don’t know if I tore his clothes off or he took them off in a heartbeat, but the next thing I knew he was biting my neck, priming my body. And all of a sudden, he was inside of me. I closed my eyes and felt his entire length going into me as my pussy walls stretched out to accommodate his girth inside my canal. I shuddered in pleasure as he bit my skin between my neck and my shoulder blade as he thrust into and out of me. My skin was on fire and I began to moan uncontrollably as I shucked myself on him, grunting with every thrust onto him. I didn’t care what I sounded like. Or even what I looked like. I needed to come. And I needed it to be on him.
And I did. I came like nothing else that evening. My vision exploded in stars before going dark. My skin arced with electric currents of pure ecstasy as I threw my head back and moaned one of the lewdest sounds I’ve ever made in my life. I lost control of my limbs as they seized up and when I finally came out of my sex coma and into a haze of euphoria, I saw Lucien holding me, looking at me. And I realized that all my doubts were nothing compared to this moment. With this man.
That night, I went home in a daze, my heart aflutter with happiness. I didn't care if Lucien was in jail. I didn't care if I only got to see him for an hour or so a day. Somehow, we would figure it out. We were young. We would let our love fuel our actions. Not our brains.
In a cocoon of happiness, I fell asleep.
And woke up the next morning feeling ill. I rushed to the bathroom, where I barely had time to get to the toiled and bend over before I began heaving and vomiting.
I felt terrible. And I began to cough and wretch as my body tried to empty out the contents of my stomach.
Thinking it was food poisoning, I went to bed. Where I promptly fell asleep until noon, and then I woke up and realized I had been passed out for half the day. What had happened to me? In a way it was good that it was my day off. Lucien wouldn't worry if I missed our normal liaison.
22.95
That’s how many dollars I spent on the pregnancy kit a few hours later when I finally felt good enough to get out of bed. I bought it from the local drugstore when I realized that I was at least two weeks late on my period.
Zero.
That’s how many hours I slept that night as I finally went to bed, my mind still consumed with thoughts about what I was going to do after finding out earlier in the day that I was pregnant.
Lucien
I feel her body clench and I place both of my hands on her hips. I'm gripping her as if she's the last thing on earth, and I hear a growl escape my throat. Being near her brings out everything animalistic in me. She's bent over the exam table, grabbing the edges and trying to muffle her heavy breathing and gasps by biting down on her bottom lip. When that's not working, I watch as she bites her hand, muffling a moan. Her hair is hanging down over her face and I gather it up with one hand and yank it back in a fist. Her legs are trembling and I know we're running out of time—it was a miracle that we even snuck this fuck session in without anyone around, but I can feel that window of opportunity fading fast.
