The Bars That Hold Us

by Shelly Pratt

  ‘Saxon…’

  ‘I know, sweetheart, I want you too.’

  I suck her hard, her nipple pebbling between my lips. My dick aches so much. I want to bury myself in her dark, warm depths where I feel safe and wanted. She has the power to take away all my loneliness. She has the power to make me feel whole again. I wonder if I do the same for her.

  My hot mouth trails lower until I’m forced on my knees. Her belly only keeps my attention for so long. I know what’s beneath the pants. I want it. I need it.

  Without her permission, I tug her trousers down below her belt. They’re loose on her hips and come easily with force. Her panties are next. The same soft lace covers her pussy, but does not disguise her moist, musky scent. She’s wet, and I fucking love it. I pull the material to the side and slide my tongue between her folds.

  She moans softly before slapping a hand over mouth to conceal the sweet sounds she’s making. I take the green light when she gives it. I don’t think I could misconstrue any intent when she grabs the back of my head and tries to force my tongue deeper.

  I love the taste of her. I flick my tongue over her clit and torment her mercilessly until she’s begging for the release I’m only too happy to give her.

  She rocks her hips deeply, her ass slapping the wall that’s supporting her. When I feel her body start to spasm around me I know she’s about to make me come undone too. As her orgasm starts to subside, I let her go and bite the top of her thigh.

  ‘I think I’m in trouble,’ I say.

  Mercy quickly pulls her pants back up and tucks her shirt in.

  ‘Get up,’ she commands. I do, and she reaches into my pants, gentle hands freeing my erection. I watch on, like an out of body experience, as she takes me in her mouth. The warm wetness is unbelievable. The minute she starts sucking I feel every inch of my body respond to her. It wants to give in to her. I want to give in to her.

  The more she gives, the more she takes a piece of me with her. She’s making me give it up and there’s not a single thing I can do about it. I come hard, my legs shaking violently. I struggle to breathe; a desperate pant is all I’m capable of. When she leaves this office, I know she’s going to be taking more than my seed with her.

  Mercy is going to be robbing me of a piece of my heart and I’m sure she’s got no idea just how much I’m letting her steal from me.

  #23

  Sometimes the bars that hold you prisoner are the only thing that’s stopping you from living your life. Sometimes they’re physical; sometimes they’re mental. It’s the power of overcoming that shows the true nature of the slave.

  For too long I’ve been a slave, but now I’m ready to break free of my cage of misery so that I might be able to find happiness again—happiness with Saxon. I wasn’t meant to be a prisoner, and neither was he. Somehow our lives had detoured from what we had planned. But I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t always have to be like that. I don’t have to give in. I don’t need to be weakened by my grief any more. There is healing, which allows me to have one, two, three—even four lives that span my time here on earth.

  I had a life, and it was beautiful. Daniel showed me how big my heart can be. We learned to love and live together. Now I’m ready for my second love. Saxon.

  His name on my lips makes me smile. I look into my bathroom mirror and whisper it again, practicing the sound of it as it rolls off my tongue. I do smile, because he’s made me feel that tingle of excitement that builds in your chest when you get happy or excited about something. The dark circles have gone. The worry lines that were aging me prematurely have blended into the canvass of my skin, as though a painter has just erased the damage my torment was doing. I look… free. Free to be happy and free to be loved.

  The colored gloss I paint on my lips is knowingly for him. Suddenly I care about my appearance, despite the fact he’s already seen me at my worst. It’s funny when we meet someone that we deem worthy of keeping that we desire to be the best versions of our self for them. I already know that with time that viewpoint will age and change. It will turn into a whimsical view, that he who is worthy will suddenly turn a blind eye to all of my flaws too, although it’s not entertained right here in this moment.

  My focus, for the first time since Daniel’s death, is on the future. I know our time is limited in the library, but it doesn’t fill me with fear anymore. With Saxon’s parole coming up, I know there’ll be another chance for us on the outside. Then our relationship can be whatever it needs to be. We can delve as deep as we want into the ocean and the currents will take us wherever we need to go.

  I’m starting to believe that perhaps there doesn’t need to always be an end. Maybe one door closes and another opens for a reason.

  With one last glance at the woman I’ve become, I flick the light off in the bathroom and grab my jacket for work.

  It’s the first day of spring, and Mother Nature hasn’t disappointed in her revelation that new things are in bloom. The air outside isn’t as crisp, and the frigid breeze has given way to new scents that tingle the senses. Where fallen leaves and brittle bark has occupied the winter lawn, spring brings with it promises of new life and a thawed, squishy earth underfoot. I can smell jasmine and nettles. Does it sound funny that with the sun shining so brilliantly through the brightest white clouds in the sky that it reminds me of expensive laundry detergent? It does. And I love it. Clean sky – that’s what the day reminds me of.

  My car eases down the street, picking its way through the early hours of suburban bliss. It’s quiet, no telling what the day is yet to bring. I feel invigorated to get moving, excited that just being alive can actually bring me pleasure. Or is that the feeling Saxon gives me? Joy at being alive because I’m free to be loved by him?

  On impulse I press the familiar number on the touch screen of my car’s dashboard. Unlike my father’s, my car has all the modern bells and whistles. The loud ringing broadcasts over the speakers as I navigate my way out of my suburb.

  ‘Hello?’

  It’s my dad’s personal cell phone that I’ve rung, so I wasn’t expecting any formal reception. His deep voice resonates through my car, the background noise of the station an ever-present reminder that he lives and breathes his job.

  ‘Hey, Dad.’ My voice is the cheeriest my dad has probably heard it in a long time.

  ‘Mercy! How’s my girl?’

  ‘I’m good!’

  ‘So, what do I owe the pleasure of such an early morning call?’

  ‘You call this early? Weren’t you the one ringing me at five am not so long ago?’

  ‘Smart ass,’ he grumbles.

  ‘I just called to say I love you, Dad.’

  There’s silence on the other end. It fills my car for a long time. I check the screen to see we’re still connected. We are, and the closing of a filing cabinet in the background tells me he’s still in his office.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘I’m here, kiddo.’ He coughs, desperately trying to clear the emotion from his voice. ‘I love you, too.’

  ‘Yeah, I know you do. Well, enough with the mushy shit, hey? I bet you’d get a good ribbing from O’Reilly if he catches you with tears in your eyes.’

  ‘Who says I’m crying? Big men don’t cry ya know.’

  ‘So I’ve heard. Well I’m on my way to the jail… Hey, do you want to catch the game at the pub on Friday?’

  ‘You’re on. Your shout though, okay? Your ma’s being stingy with the beer money of late. She thinks I drink too much.’

  ‘And do you?’

  ‘Of course!’ His loud guffaws rattle around my car, bouncing off the windows, ringing through my ears.

  ‘Well I’ll buy the beers, but if Mom finds out then you’re the one who is going to have to deal with her.’

  ‘Deal. And Mercy?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I’m glad you’re doing better, kiddo.’

  ‘Me too, Dad. Me too.’

  I end the call and spend the rest of my
drive in silence. I’m happy that things with my dad are more like they used to be. When we talk now, it feels like we can both be our old selves again.

  The car park at the jail is relatively empty for this time of morning. Visitors won’t start arriving until much later in the day and a lot of the night shift have already left, leaving the skeleton staff on to cover until the change of the guard.

  The walk in makes me wonder what it will be like working here once Saxon has gone. For the first time in my life I’m actually contemplating having a career change. Maybe I’ll do something with my life that I’ve always dreamed of but never seriously entertained. Maybe I’ll be the first of the Coles to actually do something different from being a blue blood. The thought is kind of enlivening.

  By now I’ve been working at the Silverwater pen long enough that everybody knows me. As much as I’ve tried to distance myself from the other guards, interaction and communication are imperative on some level. I usually take a hike when conversation switches from professional to personal because I draw the line at letting any of my colleagues into my home life too. I’m not sure I really trust myself with keeping my relationship with Saxon a secret. Sooner or later I’m sure I’d slip up.

  I clear the first security check point and make my way towards the watch house on F Block. It’s empty of guards, as I was expecting it to be at this time of morning. I’d imagine that whoever’s on duty will be making the last of their rounds before we switch and let the inmates out for breakfast.

  I stash my jacket in my locker and proceed to check the equipment on my belt when Clarence enters the watch house.

  ‘Good, you’re here.’

  ‘Sure, what’s up?’

  ‘I need you in a meeting we’re having in five minutes. The other guards in attendance are waiting for us in the conference room near the guard tower.’

  ‘Okay. Let me just go and tell prisoner Miles that I’ll be late escorting him to the library this morning.’

  ‘Not necessary. He’s already been informed. The meeting is actually to do with him. Let’s go.’

  My stomach sinks, instantly fearing the worst. I scan Clarence’s face for tells, hoping to see if he gives anything away. Does he know about us? Do they suspect anything? He seems preoccupied for sure, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to reprimand me. I watch as he gathers some paperwork and then follow him out. I say nothing, knowing just as well as the prisoners in here that any single thing I say could incriminate me even more. I’m just going to have to wait him out and see what’s said in the meeting.

  We walk in silence as the inmates wake up around us. There is no escaping their noise or repugnant stench. It’s almost as if they paint it into the walls. It’s a difficult thing to try and hold your breath when you’re trying to simultaneously take a deep, big lungful of air to calm yourself. Our footsteps reverberate off the linoleum floors and we head towards the watch tower section of the prison.

  When we reach the door, I want to run. I want to run all the way home and lock myself away where I feel safe – locked up and sheltered from the pains of life. There isn’t a single part of me that wants to face an inquiry into the relationship I have with Saxon. I don’t want to answer questions; I don’t want to give them anything. He’s the only thing—the only person—who has been able to turn my miserable life around. He persisted, because he knew we had a connection. He persisted because he knew that he was exactly what I needed and I was exactly what he wanted. I’m not ready to give that up, especially when “us” is so close to freedom—the freedom to be with each other and discover all we have to offer.

  Clarence opens the door to the conference room for me, leaving me no choice but to step through and confront the jury waiting for me.

  When I walk through, no eyes are on me. No one cares about my arrival. They confuse me. I’ve worked myself up into frenzy, making all kinds of assumptions, and yet their body language tells me this meeting has nothing to do with me whatsoever.

  Slowly, I move forward and take a seat, carefully observing the behavior of those around me. My shift in thinking has me perplexed. Before I can get too carried away, the warden closes his notebook and takes his glasses off, indicating that he’s ready to get started. He only seems mildly interested in me.

  ‘Thanks for joining me on such short notice. I appreciate we only have a limited time since the shift change is about to take place, but I feel the information I’m about to relay to you all could potentially impact the routine of the prison today. Above all else, your safety is paramount here at Silverwater. As of early this morning, I’ve been made aware that the Lebanese gangs are planning a retaliation attack on prisoner 224702. They didn’t like the beating he gave two of their crew.’

  My throat constricts, dried instantly by the news. I take a quick swig of water, poured from the pitcher in the center of the table. I’m only just able to choke out my words.

  ‘Sir, that’s prisoner Saxon Miles?’

  The warden looks me square in the eye.

  ‘Yes, Cole, that’s right. I think for the time being the safest thing for him, and you, is to still be segregated in the library for the time being. He still has work to do there, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, sir, he does.’

  ‘Good. I’ve already organized the gang members to be removed from F Block before the masses are let out for breakfast. Hopefully we can contain this mess and prevent an incident involving a fatality.’

  ‘Do you think we should perhaps move Saxon to another cell block, or solitary?

  ‘No, I don’t.’ His tone is slightly annoyed, as though I dare question him in front of the other guards.

  ‘I don’t mean to question you, I—’

  ‘The threat has been removed. I’m not putting him in solitary – I don’t think he’d like that anymore than I do. And as for another cell block, I’m not prepared to remove the growing number of Lebanese from those blocks either. No, this is the best approach. For the time being, I’m also requesting you have an escort to and from the library. I trust you can oversee that, Clarence?’

  Clarence nods, silently answering. There is no place for my fears to be addressed here. This is business. No heart or soul can enter into my pleas for Saxon. I have no control over his safety. His life, his treatment — they’re all left in the hands of the system. I am powerless.

  The rest of the day’s important items are discussed before the warden leaves us to go back to his office. I get up slowly and follow Clarence and Victor back to F Block.

  With Saxon so close to freedom, why do I suddenly feel like he’ll never get out of this place?

  #24

  The look on her face haunts me. This is the old Mercy – the fearful, crushed woman who carries around death with her. It sits on her shoulder, affecting her like a sickness. I wonder what has caused her such anguish, but I don’t dare say anything in front of Victor. His presence is just as much of a trigger that things are amiss as is the expression on her face.

  They let me out of my cell, and I follow obediently. For a brief second I wonder if we’ve been found out, but I instantly dismiss that thought. She looks like she’s upset, not like she’s just been scolded.

  Victor takes the lead, leaving me to be sandwiched between him and Mercy. We make our way out of F Block and towards the mess hall. The rest of the inmates haven’t arrived for breakfast yet, the quiet in the hall a clear indicator. They let me grab a tray of food and watch me eat it. They both stand stoically, making me feel like I’m under a microscope. If I was on death row, I guess I’d kind of feel like this was my last meal. I choke down the slop and wish for the millionth time that I was actually eating a real home-cooked meal.

  When I’ve finished, I place my cutlery down and stare expectantly at them.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Victor commands. The guard sandwich continues towards the library. Interesting. So, I’m still going to be working there today. Perhaps Victor has been instructed to observe my work, maybe see how much I’m
getting done each day? But as soon as we reach the library door and we’re safely inside, he leaves us, shutting the hard, reinforced door firmly behind him.

  Mercy and I stand staring at each other, knowing full well we’re both waiting to hear the security door down the end of the hall open and close. The minute that we’re in the clear, she falls into my arms. I just hold her tight. I don’t let go. She doesn’t cry, or sob, or anything. She just needs to feel my arms around her. We stand like this for a long time. We stand still, molded to each other, breathing each other in. It’s one of the most peaceful and tranquil moments of my life. To be honest, I don’t ever want to let her go.

  When she finally pulls away, she’s ready to talk.

  ‘They’re after you.’

  ‘The guards? Are they on to us?’

  ‘No. The Lebanese.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You don’t seem surprised.’

  ‘I was expecting pay back sooner or later. It happens in here. I think I’d be a bit naïve if I thought I was going to get away with it without any comeback.’

  ‘You seem so cool about it. Aren’t you worried?’

  ‘I’ve thought about it. Concerned, yes. Worried, no. So long as I keep my wits about me I’m sure I’ll be able to stay out of trouble.’

  I hope like fucking crazy she’s buying my bullshit. I don’t want to worry her. Retribution from them has been on my mind, but I certainly don’t want her worrying about it, or wasting a single second being afraid for me. She doesn’t need that kind of pressure. I smile widely at her.

  ‘You’re so close,’ she whispers.

  ‘I know, and I’m going to make it out of here when it’s time. I promise.’

  She doesn’t look convinced.

  ‘So, I see we have a security detail now?’

  ‘Sure, there’s going to be a few more eyes on us for the time being.’

  ‘Does that mean I’ve got to keep my hands off you?’