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THIRTEEN
Love Don’t Love Nobody . . .
After being patted and frisked, the metal doors slid open, and, finally, Heaven stepped out into the visiting area. This was her first time in visits since her incarceration, and she had no idea it was such an invasive ordeal. It felt almost like intake, when she’d had to be crammed inside a room with a dozen or so other women who’d gotten off the prison van with her, shackled and chained.
Along with the rest of them, they’d humiliated her by having her strip, bend over and spread open her ass, and cough, giving officers a back view of her pussy while they peered between her legs. Supposedly to check for any potential contraband, such as drugs, money, and weapons, being smuggled in inside someone’s anal and vaginal orifices.
Bitch, please. The only thing she would have been concealing inside her cunt was a hard damn dick. Or a long wet tongue. She’d wanted to tell them so at that moment, but had decided against it.
She’d even overheard one of the female COs comment on how fat her pussy lips were as she’d been bent over. She’d bit her tongue, but not before glancing back to get a glimpse of the officer’s face. Officer Banks.
The same sick bitch frisking inmates today. Though she hadn’t been the one to search Heaven, she still felt manhandled. Violated. Felt up on like some piece of ripe fruit. She swore the other freak-bitch, Officer Clemmons, who patted her down was trying to sniff her ass on the low, while trying to feel her up on the sly.
Mmph. She should have slammed her ass back in her damn face.
Nasty ho.
And when she’d asked her for the time, the officer responded in a huff, “What time is it? Bitch, do I look like a damn clock to you? Get the fuck on before I cancel your visit.” Again, she bit her tongue.
Fucking miserable bitch!
This place was crazy. She’d never been around so many so-called professionals who were simply downright inappropria
te and fucked up. Since being at Croydon Hill, she noticed how some of the female COs either leered at her, or rolled their eyes on the sly as she passed by. Those ghetto bitches were worse than some of the male officers. Grimier. Disrespectful. And damn right jealous.
But, oh, well.
They could all kiss her ass.
She glanced around the large visiting room, and when she spotted a brown-skinned woman with a wrist full of silver bangles standing up and waving her hand in the air to get her attention, she knew who’d come to visit.
Kareema Daniels.
She would never consider Kareema a good friend. However, she’d been a step above an associate, so Heaven had loosely deemed her a friend of sorts. When she was out on the streets, free, they had been “turn-up” and travel pals—with Heaven always footing the bill because Kareema’s money was always light, even after she’d started doing a little late-night tricking after a sweaty night at the club to keep a few coins in her purse.
Heaven made her way over to her, catching the eye of two male COs as she walked by. She overheard the chunky one say, “Man, look at that pretty bitch right there.”
“Yeah, and I heard she a freak,” his light-skinned counterpart replied.
She wasn’t familiar with the tall, light-skinned one with the big nose, but she’d encountered the stumpy brown-skinned one a few times during her time over in Ad-Seg. Officer Alvin. He could literally pass as the twin brother of Eddie Murphy’s character Rasputia in that hilarious movie Norbit.
He caught her eye and slyly winked.
She frowned. She didn’t like his libidinous ass, but she’d love to learn his ass real good. She grinned as she envisioned the pudgy fuck stuffed in a black rubber suit with ass cutouts and a hole where his cock was supposed to go. She’d force him to bend over, then use a spiked paddle to whip his ass to shreds.
And if given a chance, she would. Hell. Maybe she’d stuff his ass with a gloved fist, too. Yeah, that’s what she’d do. Fist-fuck the shit out of that fat fucker.
She felt a smile forming at the corner of her lips. But then she frowned, and shot a dirty look at him. She dared not say anything back or she’d run the risk of having her visit terminated. And the last thing she wanted was having her visit cancelled before she got the chance to find out what Kareema had been up to since she hadn’t heard from her since her arrest. She’d written her three times, and the bitch had yet to write back. And, trust. The slight wouldn’t be forgiven.
“Ooh, girl, work,” Kareema squealed as she reached out and gave her a one-armed hug. The hug felt about as fake as her hair. Heaven cringed, but halfheartedly returned the gesture. Kareema stepped back and looked at her so-called friend. “Yes, hunty. Your face is beat for the gods.”
Heaven swiped her bang from out of her eye. All she was wearing was eyeliner and a fresh coat of lipgloss, and this ho was acting as if she’d poured on a batter of face paint.
She raised a brow. “You say that like you expected me to come out looking all busted or something.”
“Well, no. But I didn’t know they allowed y’all to wear makeup, either,” she said, taking a seat in one of the gray stackable chairs used in the visiting hall. She gave Heaven another once-over. “Mmph. You slay in that jumpsuit. Even in prison garb, you look runway ready.”
Heaven gave her a look. “Hon, I don’t care where I’m at, I’m going to always stay fly.”
