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I drop my robe from my shoulders and look at myself.
My nipples are a light brown. I always wished they were pinker, but they’re a nice size. They harden in front of me, and I let my hands wander to them.
How would they feel beneath Falcon’s lips? His teeth?
All we’ve had is a couple of quickies—quickies that were better than my most exciting longies in the past.
I slide my fingers over my hard nipples, and then I pinch them each lightly, the sensation arrowing straight between my legs.
God, Falcon…
I close my eyes, continue my nipple play. I twist, pinch, tug on them, imagining my fingers are his lips.
One hand wanders downward, and I slide my fingers between my legs.
I’m wet. Wet like an aloe plant.
I glide my fingers over my pussy lips to moisten them, and then I touch my clit.
A soft gasp erupts from me, and I open my eyes.
My cheeks are flushed pink, and so are the tops of my breasts.
I bite my lower lip, continue playing with my clit and my nipple.
And wishing for Falcon’s hard cock.
The climax hits me quickly and with unexpected force.
I’m not sure I’ve ever come this fast. Maybe with Falcon, but never from masturbating.
It’s not my own touch.
It’s the thought of him. Of Falcon. Of Falcon’s lips on my nipples. Of his lips around my clit.
Will I ever experience those amazing feelings? Because already I know they’ll be amazing. If a quickie with Falcon sends me reeling, just think of what a full session will do.
Once I come down from my orgasm, I stare at myself again. At my rosy cheeks and breasts, my swollen pussy.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say out loud to my reflection. “You took a personal day to grieve for your friend, and you’re playing with yourself in front of the mirror, fantasizing about a man you’re never going to have. A man you shouldn’t even want. What the hell is the matter with you?”
I brush through my tangled hair again and then pull out my blow dryer. Once my hair is dry, I head into the bedroom and put on a pair of virginal white cotton panties. My “it’s laundry day” panties. I glance at my hamper and frown. The one thing I don’t like about this place is that it didn’t come with a washer and dryer. It has a hookup and I plan to purchase one myself to take with me when I eventually move into a house. Of course, who the hell knows when that will be?
Anyway, I don’t have them yet, so what the hell? I may as well hit the laundromat. It’ll be a lot less crowded than it will be on the weekend. I was planning to wash a load of underwear in my sink to get me through. I don’t normally get this far behind in laundry, but the move has me off schedule.
I pull on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tank top and then pile my hair on my head in a messy bun. No makeup. Not even lip gloss, which I almost never leave home without.
Nothing. Nada. Savannah au naturel.
Spending a personal day at the laundromat. What a fucking loser.
28
FALCON
When you’re on the inside, you get to know things about the outside that no one else knows.
For example, when I turned sixteen, I got my falcon tat at Ogden’s Tats and Piercings in downtown Summer Creek. Gene Ogden was an awesome artist, voted one of the best in Texas by some tat magazine, but now his son, a former classmate of mine, runs the place. Lance Ogden was a pothead—one of the guys who smoked cigarettes and weed behind the brick building before and after school.
On the inside, I learned what the Ogdens are actually into. How this information makes it to the prison pop without the rest of the town knowing it was a mystery to me at first. Then I found out.
There’s always a guard who can be bought, and Lance Ogden knew most of them.
Anything can be bought on the inside, and not always for money.
I did some buying myself on the inside.
It only cost me a couple days in the infirmary.
Bruno Martin is still there, doing time for a double homicide. I was a mere twenty-four when Bruno showed up, but luckily I’d been there for a couple years and I’d gotten tough. Damned tough.
Savage. That’s how I got the name, by taking down the biggest guy on cell block D.
Bruno was bigger than I was, but I was younger and quicker.
When he got there, he wasted no time in making one of the little guys, Tommy Ortiz—in for armed robbery—his bitch. I couldn’t take Tommy’s screams, so I challenged Bruno and won. Tommy was mine after that.
No one touched him again, least of all me.
