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Blonde

Day Eleven: Showers

The next morning passed without incident, though at slopping-out we heard some sort of fracas, out of sight round a corner of the corridor. Our shaves passed Raymond’s inspection, and breakfast and lunch came and went without further announcements or hostility. As Showers approached I grew nervous and excited, all the suppressed sexual tension building up inside me, such that I couldn’t relax or concentrate or keep still.

“Whatever you do keep hold of your shampoo,” said Rose. “If you put it down it will disappear before you can say ‘porridge’.”

“Right,”

“Do you want me to take it for you?” asked Rose.

“Yes,” I said. “I mean no – or course not, no.”

“It would be safer if I did,” said Rose.

“All right then,” I said.

By the time the call came I was so fixated on one thing that Rose had to remind me to leave my clothes outside our cell.

Two by two we marched along the corridor where I kept a keen eye on the names on the cell doors we passed. There was no P Kumali: presumably her cell was in the other direction, and I would be able to identify it next time we went to Exercise.

The shower room was warm and steamy: Rose and I drifted away from each other, and soon I was absorbed into the steamy, noisy morass of female flesh. A large black girl with stretch marks on her belly saw me and threw her arms around me.

“We heard about Wilson and the laxative,” she said. “We laughed ’til we wet ourselves.”

Two of her friends joined in the laughter. The first girl said:

“How’s about a rub honey?”

“Maybe later,” I said. “I’ve got to find someone.”

“You know where to find me,” the black girl said. “I got some real chocolate back in my cell – you rub me nice I might just give you a piece.”

“Thanks,” I said, and made off: but I’d only gone a couple of paces before a woman with a huge belly blocked my path. She had dark hair cut in a crude, pudding-bowl slant, and spots on her chin.

“How about a rub for me?” she said.

“Maybe later,” I said – “I’ve got to find someone.”

She gave me a rather hard look; for a moment I thought she was going to bar my way, but she stepped aside:

“You’d better start coming across pretty soon,” she said. “Otherwise we’re going to get the idea you think you’re too good for us.”

Hardiman was bawling out numbers, and women were standing under the showers. I realised that, not knowing Prana’s cell number, I did not know when she would be called to shower. I ducked under outstretched arms, saw Rose locked in an embrace with a woman I did not recognise, and then I spotted the slender back, the small, shapely buttocks and long dark hair. Prana was standing facing a wall: I took a step towards her then checked myself: backed up to the wall was a pear-shaped woman of maybe fifty: her face was creased into what looked at first glance like pain, and Prana’s hand was between her legs. I backed away, but couldn’t help watching: as the woman came she grunted repeatedly, as though she was having a bowel movement. They locked arms, and as I waited for them to separate a voice that seemed familiar spoke huskily into my ear.

“Here she is again, lovelier than ever,” said the voice.

“I’ve been dreaming about you every night,” said a second voice, into my opposite ear.

“And here she is in the flesh,” said the first voice.

“And what flesh it is,” said the second.

I was aware of hands running down my flanks. I turned round and recognised the two butch women who had joked with myself and the freckled girl about piss and champagne last time in Showers. They were so similar I wondered if they were sisters: both had fair hair cut short at the sides and long on top, the long hair combed over one side from a side parting. They looked as though they should be smoking cigarettes from long black holders.

“She smells a lot nicer this time,” said the first, who was slightly bulkier than the second, as she buried her nose into my neck.

“I’ve got to speak to someone,” I said.

“What’s the rush?” asked the second woman.

“Plenty of time,” said the first. “Time for us to get to know you a little better. Chloe: that’s right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well I’m Brenda and this is Freda,” said the larger woman: “though most of the girls know us as the Andrews Sisters.”

“Are you really sisters?” I asked. For some reason this caused them to roar with laughter.

“We’re all sisters in here,” the smaller one said.

“Now Chloe,” said Brenda: “Freda and I drew lots this morning, and I won: so I get to go first: you understand me?”

I could hardly fail to. I realised, also, that this was something I could no longer put off without causing offence and losing whatever goodwill my status as new girl, and the stunt with Wilson, had endowed me with.

“Two squares of chocolate each,” I said. They roared with laughter.

“Chloe dear, if only we could: but sadly we have no chocolate.”

“Those kind Wardens forgot to deliver any this week.”

This Nevşehir Escort stumped me: what was I supposed to do now? Capitulate? Refuse to oblige them?

“In that case a bottle of shampoo,” I said.

“Hark at her,” said Freda. “My, does she drive a hard bargain.”

The two women looked at each other. Then Brenda said:

“We’ll give you an emery board.”

This again caught me unawares. Oddly enough I had been thinking about my nails, wondering if there was any alternative to chewing them down or letting them grow into talons. An emery board sounded quite appealing. But I had no idea of its trading value.

“One each,” I said.

“One between us Chloe,” said Brenda firmly.

“OK,” I said.

Next second Brenda had her arms around me and was kissing me. I started to kiss back, but she was impatient, running her hands over me rapidly, feeling my tits, then hurriedly on down over my hips until one hand found my vagina. I tried to mirror her actions, and knew from her responses I was on the right track. Then abruptly she sank to her knees, parted my legs with her hands, and began to lick me.

“So sweet,” she said. “So very sweet,” and I was glad I’d washed before coming to showers.

Her tongue was tickling rather than arousing me, but it didn’t last long, for almost at once she stood up again, took my hand and guided it between her legs. She was hot, and a bit sticky from the steam – I could have used some lubricant – but soon she was wet and slippery and before I knew it she let out a long moan like a cow’s moo and hung her head with her distinctive hair-cut onto my shoulder.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Sweet sweet sweet.” Then she staggered back: “Your turn sister.”

Freda then took her place – and we went through a ritual so similar I felt I’d gone into a time loop.

Did that really happen twice? I wondered, as Freda in turn clung to me, panting, her head on my shoulder.

The ‘sisters’ seemed to be temporarily oblivious to their surroundings, so I took my leave. I felt quite pleased: I had earned my first item, the women had been affable enough, and I seemed to have left them satisfied. But where was Prana? Not where I had last seen her. I hurried as best as I could amidst the throng, then caught sight of her again, in conversation with another Indian girl. At the same time the whistle blew, and I heard Hardiman shout:

“Cells twenty-five to thirty: into the showers. Five minutes.”

“Prana,” I shouted. She looked up:

“Chloe”. She turned on me her radiant smile: it was as though a summer sun had burst through winter cloud.

“Prana: I’ve got to go: we’ll talk later?”

“Of course Chloe,” she replied.

I stood in the showers next to Rose. The hot water cascaded down, purifying and purging, obliterating all my thoughts and cares, beating away everything except the sensations of wetness and heat. Rose tapped me on the shoulder and handed me the shampoo, and soon a lather of sweet-smelling foam was washing down over my shoulders. I offered the bottle back to Rose and pointed to her hair, and when she shook her head I squeezed some more shampoo into the palm of my hand, reached across and smeared it across her crown. She looked surprised: then smiled and nodded and began to knead it into her hair. The residue in my hand I rubbed between my legs, washing my pussy thoroughly, working some of the lather round into my anus.

All too soon the whistle was blown. Steaming, light-headed, we stepped out of the showers. I handed the shampoo back to Rose for safe-keeping, then found and wrapped myself in a fresh towel.

This time Prana found me. Her hair was damp, she had obviously showered, but I could not work out when, or remember now if she had been wet when I had first seen her.

We did our customary hands-together bow, then I cast off my towel and threw my arms around her.

“Thank you so much for the shampoo,” I said.

“You got it then? I am glad – you can never be sure if things will arrive.”

“It was a wonderful surprise: you don’t know how much it meant to me.”

“It was the least I could do after I hurt you. And now your hair will be glossy again.”

She ran her hand over my wet hair. I shivered with pleasure.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I said.

“Why, I missed you too Chloe,” she said, just a little surprised. She lowered her arms, but still I clung to her: I felt an urgent throbbing between my legs, and tried to push my pussy closer to her.

“Prana,” I said. “I can’t stop thinking about you; since we made love I’ve been on fire for you. I’ve lost my appetite, I can’t sleep.”

“But you must masturbate Chloe: everyone must do this.”

“I’ve rubbed myself senseless Prana, but it’s no good. Prana: I’m in love with you.”

“Oh Chloe, Chloe,” said Prana, and she put her arms round me again and cradled me to her. So many people say they are in love with me.”

“It’s real Prana,” I said. And now the ache in my pussy was almost unbearable: I had to make contact with Prana: I Nevşehir Escort Bayan lifted my leg and half-wrapped it round hers.

“Prana – please can we make love?”

“Of course Chloe, of course we can. And look Chloe: I should not have tried to charge you four squares of chocolate last time: it is two squares of chocolate only.”

“Two squares of chocolate? But can’t we – I mean, we both enjoyed it last time didn’t we? Can we just do it for pleasure?”

“Chloe – I would love to do this as you say. But it is not a good idea. If the other women find out I do this for free, they will all want it for free. ‘Why do you go with Chloe for free and not us?’ they will say. They will not like you: they may want to hurt you. Also I must give Megan part of what I earn.”

“I understand,” I said, though tears were prickling behind my eyes.

“But we can still go together,” said Prana.

“I don’t have any chocolate Prana,” I said. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Oh Chloe,” she sighed: “what shall we do with you?”

“Prana – I’m desperate. Please.”

“Have you earned anything at all Chloe?”

“An emery board. I can give you an emery board.”

Prana seemed to consider:

“I have emery boards Chloe. But OK, you can give me an emery board.”

“Thank you” I gasped.

“Come on: we’ll go over here.”

She led me to the quietest corner of the room, where only the girl Fatima sat lost in prayers. We stood, face to face, breasts to breasts, and our tongues met in a long, hot, sensual kiss. I tried to stroke her, but I was so desperate to come I was jerking, hardly in control of my movements.

“Chloe: what is the matter?” Prana asked.

“Just touch me Prana, just bring me off before I die.”

She slid her small hand between my legs: I moaned and whimpered and almost fainted with need. I let her hand take some of my weight – sensations were shooting through me as though my clitoris had caught fire. Prana moved her hand expertly, goading my clitoris, spreading the contact until the area of fire seemed to spread over my whole vagina, until everywhere between my legs seemed to melt.

“I’m going to come,” I said, “Prana I’m going to come,” and then I exploded into a writhing, shrieking, moaning, flexing, shuddering orgasm: the orgasm I had been craving for so long without being able to achieve finally arrived, and I came and came and came against Prana’s hand, whimpering, panting and finally crying in utter ecstasy and relief.

Then I sank onto the wet floor and lay there oblivious.

“Chloe,” said Prana. “Wow.”

“You don’t know how much I needed that,” I panted, taking her hand and pulling her down beside me.”

“Chloe – you and Rose must rub each other: it is not good to get in such a state.”

“Prana, it was worth it: it was worth every minute of frustration,” I gasped. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. By a long, long way.”

“Well, I am glad Chloe.”

We lay there together on the floor, Prana half-propped against a bench. I started to come round.

“Now let me do you,” I said, looking at her dreamily, stroking the inside of her thigh.”

“Chloe: you do not have to do me.”

“I want to,” I said. Already I had slid my hand up over her mound, hoping to get her wet to the point where she would not refuse.

“OK Chloe,” she said. She spread herself wide: I leaned in and kissed her pussy, and was rewarded with a shudder. I licked at her, eased her onto her back, and pushed her legs up. It was uncomfortable kneeling on the tiled floor, but I did not care: my only desire in the world now was pleasure Prana, to give her an orgasm as good as, or even half as good as, my own. Soon she was moaning: like me she was sensitive and easy to rouse. Her pussy was very soon soaking, and I put my hands under her buttocks, lifting her slightly to get better access, spreading them with my fingers. One of my fingers made contact with her anus, and without really thinking I probed a little and felt the extra heat in my fingertip as it slid just inside. Prana gasped: I stopped, afraid for a second I had hurt her, but instead of pulling away she wriggled herself down onto my finger so that it slid maybe half and inch further inside.

“Oh my God Chloe,” she breathed. My tongue was licking rapidly, Prana’s breathing was getting shallower and more rapid, and knowing she was on the point of orgasm I took a deep breath and locked my mouth around her trying to make as much contact as I could, trying to extend the area of pleasure as much as possible until, with a scream that must have been heard even above the hubbub and noise of the showers, she came.

I left my finger just inside her arsehole until I felt her muscles contract and try to expel me, when I pulled it out. Prana was gasping for breath, her eyes glazed. I looked down on her with another upsurge of love. Here I am in a hideous prison, I thought, experiencing the most ecstatic moments of my life. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Fatima: she Escort Nevşehir had her head bowed: but there was no doubt about it, from behind her hands she was watching us. What was she thinking? In my expansive happiness I wanted to call out to her to join in, to extend my pleasure to her, to all the world.

Prana propped herself up.

“Chloe,” she said. “That is like meeting God before you die.”

I laughed. Then I kissed her. Then I asked:

“Prana: I’m still randy: please would you do me again?”

“Chloe, you are insatiable: I will speak to Rose about you. Very well.”

She pushed my legs open, and as I had done to her began to lick and suck my pussy. It was the strangest and most wonderful sensation. I felt almost as though I was going to wee in her mouth, as though my pussy were full of liquid, warm liquid under pressure which must spill out. Prana looked up at me: how funny girls look when they’ve got their tongue half-out, I thought. I wriggled about: I could feel waves building up, like the sea about to burst a dam. Prana took her face away, to draw breath, and covered my pussy with her hand. I squirmed with pleasure: her fingers found my opening, and one of them slid deep inside.

“Oh my God,” I said, taken by surprise as the muscles of my vagina found themselves opening. I felt a second finger, poised questioningly: “Oh God, yes Prana,” I exclaimed: “Open me up Prana, please.” A second finger slid inside me. My pussy was tight: it felt deliciously full, her fingers tight against my muscle walls. Slowly and rhythmically Prana began to slid her fingers in and half-out, in and half out. “Open me up Prana,” I was screaming now, “finger fuck me, open me, open me”. My legs were juddering, flexing up and down beyond my control: her fingers slid right in, the nub of her hand found my clitoris, my muscles clamped down and I screamed and came, thrusting my hips upwards again and again until the spasms died down.

“Leave it there Prana,” I sighed blissfully, “leave it for ever up there.”

Eventually we had to move, our limbs were so uncomfortable on the hard floor. We wriggled into cross-legged positions: I put my hand on Prana’s leg and was soon sliding it up inside her thigh.

“Don’t Chloe,” she shivered. “You will give me another orgasm – it is too much.”

We giggled, and I took her hand in mine. In the distance I heard a whistle and shouting, but it seemed far, far away.

“Do you have to go – to somebody else?” I eventually asked.

“You are joking Chloe: after this?”

She leaned into me, and dropped her head on my shoulder. People milled around: some looked at us and made comments, but these too washed over me unheeded.

“Rose told me you used to work in a massage parlour,” I said.

“That is true,” said Prana. “I am not clever like you; I did not pay attention at school. When I left they told me I could work in a factory for six pounds an hour, or I could work in a supermarket for six pounds an hour. So I went to work in a massage parlour instead for sixty pounds an hour. And I enjoyed it a lot more.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said. “I don’t blame you at all.”

“Hey, Chloe,” said Prana, suddenly becoming a little more animated: “when we get out of here you too can work in a massage parlour. Except we won’t work in a massage parlour, we can set up together in a flat, then we can keep all our earnings. We’ll suck cock all day long, and in the evenings we can have a bath together in champagne.”

“Prana: you’re crazy, but I love you.”

“Why is this crazy? Men will pay a fortune for pretty girls like us. We can buy beautiful clothes and drive around in sports cars.”

“And bathe in champagne,” I said dreamily.

“Well, maybe not champagne: but we will have a big bath, a huge bath with gold taps, and fill it with hot water and lie there together with glasses of champagne.”

Then I started to cry.

“What is it Chloe? You don’t like champagne?”

“I just love you so much Prana.”

“Ah, Chloe,” she said. “You are a lovely girl. But now we must go.”

“Already?”

“Yes, come on,” she said, pulling me to my feet. I hadn’t heard the call for end of showers: but the water had been switched off and all the other women were forming up into a line.

“I’ll bring you the emery board at Exercise,” I said, hoping Prana would wave this away and decline, but she merely smiled, and gathered up her towel.

“Wait a minute,” I called.

“We’ll be in trouble,” Prana called back over her shoulder, as she hurried away to take her place in the line.

“Prana: which cell are you in?” I shouted. But she didn’t hear.

“Get a move on Littlehayes,” shouted one of the Wardens, as I staggered over to where Rose was standing.

Back in Cell 29 I couldn’t stand up. I felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and flopped down onto my bed, limp, exhausted, emotional, happy and sad at the same time. If Rose spoke I did not notice: all the events and emotions of the last few days had drained me completely: soon I was asleep.

I woke briefly when dinner arrived: at first I didn’t want to stir, but after the first mouthful of shepherd’s pie I realised how famished I was, and devoured the rest of the food. Then I fell asleep again, and half woke to find Rose shaking my arm and speaking into my ear.

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