Chloe in Prison Ch. 16

Day Thirty-Four: Exercise

Not another word passed between Rose and myself that evening, and the stony silence persisted the following morning. I lugged the slops bucket sulkily out of the cell, and kept resolutely silent on returning. I had hoped that after a night's sleep Rose might apologise, but she went about her daily rituals as though I was invisible. I was also hoping that in the struggle to shave me she might have missed a patch - that would teach her not to try to run my life, I thought. But it was not to be: Mrs Tiggywinkle and Raymond turned up, and Raymond as usual ran the back of her index finger over me.

"OK," she said. "But you are very red: you shave in the dark perhaps?"

Neither of us answered: the atmosphere in the cell was like a bad smell, and Raymond could hardly have failed to sense it, but she said nothing further.

My last hope was gone. In part I was relieved: I didn't want to admit it, but I had been afraid of what Dawes and Hardiman would do to me, and thanks to Rose I had avoided an unpleasant punishment whilst not having compromised my loyalty to Prana. But Prana would not know this. I had had many pleasant fantasies of turning up at Exercise with my head shaven, of Prana wrapping herself around me joyfully, saying Chloe, you have done this for me and Chloe, you have made me so happy, now we are twins, now we are soul mates. Now these happy anticipations were all reduced to ashes.

For this I hated Rose. I listened to her slurping her porridge, and I hated the sound she made. I listened to her using the bucket, and I hated the noise of her pissing. More than ever I regretted that Megan would not try to get me moved in with Prana.

I was not going to exercise in front of Rose, but I was not going to cower away from her either. So I lay on my back, threw off my knickers as though I hadn't a care in the world, and settled down to masturbate. Rose coughed, and cleared her throat a couple of times, but showed no signs of speaking, and presently she too took off her skirt and knickers. Instead of adopting her usual position on her back, she lay down on her stomach with her head turned away from me, and her bare bottom stuck upwards. The teeth marks, which were now surrounded by a purple bruise, stared out at me reproachfully. Had I really bitten her that hard? Then I wondered if she had adopted that position deliberately, to make me feel guilty. Well two could play at that game: my own bottom was still smarting, so I too turned over onto my stomach so that Rose could get a sighting of her handiwork.

But I couldn't bring myself off. And although Rose made a few noises, I fancied she couldn't either. Part of me was aware of how stupid this was, and wanted to go and make my peace with her - but I was still too angry.

It was a miserable day in cell twenty-nine, and I was greatly relieved when the call came for Exercise.

Without saying a word to each other Rose and I took our places in the line. As soon as we were inside the Exercise cage we separated.

The temperature had dipped that day: it was sharp and cold, and I was sure there had been a frost earlier. I caught sight of Prana almost at once, standing on her own. In her uniform her shaven head looked even more unnatural than when she had been naked and it had been all of a piece with her body. When I approached her she was shivering.

"Am I glad to see you," I said.

"And I you Chloe."

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"I am cold," she answered. "Especially my head is cold."

I hugged her, and pulled her shaven head into my pullover trying to cradle it. "Put it up my pullover," I said, and I tried to lift the rim of the pullover over her head, but the fit was too tight, and we gave up.

"Are you coming to terms with it?" I asked.

"I can never come to terms with it," she said. "And I will never forget this."

Although she was no longer crying and trying to make herself invisible, her bitterness and unhappiness were still evident. I felt so protective towards her: I longed to make everything all right again, and thought how wonderful it would be if we could spend a whole night together, snuggle down on the narrow bed, cover ourselves with the prison blankets and sink into the cocoon of a long, dark, intimate oblivion together.

"Have you got a cellmate yet?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Just me and four walls Chloe."

"I've had a miserable time as well," I said, and was about to tell her what had happened with Rose, when our attention was caught by a strange spectacle. About fifty yards from us, half-surrounded by a small, animated crowd, stood the two new girls who had most recently been 'initiated' in the showers. The older-looking one had her arm protectively around the younger, but it was the younger one's appearance which was attracting all the attention. She was bare-legged, and in place of a prison skirt was wearing something white and bulky. Over the top half of her body, outside her prison pullover, was draped some sort of placard.

Prana and I looked at one another, then set off to investigate. As we approached we could see that the white item of clothing was in fact a nappy: a disposable nappy of the kind babies wear, but in a larger size meant for adults.

"What on earth?" I said.

"She pissed the bed," a woman said, "so they put her in a nappy."

Once we were close to the girls we could see quite clearly: not only was Lisa wearing a nappy, but the nappy had evidently been filled, for it sagged down between her legs like a soggy cow's udder. We could also see that the placard was a kind of sandwich board, comprising two white pieces of card attached at the top and bottom by string. Half-turned as she was to her companion we could not see the front: but on the rear was written in large black letters the single word: BEDWETTER.

"Oh my God," I said, as I stared in horror. "What happened?"

Lisa did not answer. She was crying, and clutching her friend: I noticed that her fingernails were bitten down to the quick. Around us women were tittering and making comments, some sympathetic, some less so. Wilson, inevitably, was one of the latter:

"Look at her!" she jeered: "Eighteen years old and pisses the bed like a baby."

"Leave her alone!" shouted the older girl. "Go away and leave us alone, all of you."

"She's got to toughen up," said another woman. "No good crying on your shoulder all day."

"What happened?" I asked again, this time of the older girl, who had jet black hair which tumbled onto her shoulders.

"She was terrified, especially after what you lot did to us in the showers," the girl said, and her eyes blazed out with resentment at everyone. "The first night here she wet the bed. Then that hideous woman came - the one who looks like an angry boar - and saw it."

"Dawes," muttered Prana.

"First she rubbed Lisa's face in it. Then she told her since she'd wet the bed she must wear a nappy. So this Dawes and another one took her skirt and pants away and put a nappy on her. They told her she must not take it off or she will be punished. Not even to use the toilet. So she must do everything in her nappy. Everything. Can you imagine that? Once a day they come and change her. It is horrible, horrible. For a whole week she has to do this.

"Then today they made her wear this placard."

As Lisa shifted I could see that the same word was written on the front of the placard. All around us women were reading it, and the single word on everyone's lips was: Bedwetter. I stepped forward and put my hand on Lisa's shoulder:

"I'm Chloe," I said, "and this is my friend Prana. I'm new here as well. I'm sorry this has happened."

Lisa turned her face to me. She was fair-skinned, with a scattering of light freckles: a kind of brittle, china-doll prettiness showed through beneath the tear-stained cheeks.

"Things get better, I promise you," I said, as she stayed silent.

"I remember you, both of you," said her friend, who had much stronger features, and something of a sultry Spanish flamenco look about her. "You stuck your fingers up me like all the others."

"We have to," said Prana. "We've all been through it."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Dianne."

"Prana's right Dianne," I said. "We don't have a choice." I remembered, with a slight stab of guilt, the sexual frisson I'd felt when I'd wiggled my finger inside the older girl's pussy. Was she aware of this? It suddenly occurred to me that I was probably not the only one, and that perhaps the real rationale behind initiation ceremonies was less to do with making sure no-one 'got above themselves' than giving the women an opportunity to get their hands on girls who in the outside world would have been unattainable.

"And another thing," Dianne continued. "We've been told everyone will want to have sex with us: all the Wardens and all the prisoners. Is this true?"

"Not everyone," I said.

"Speak for yourself," said a navvy of a woman I knew as 'Tops', who had so many blackheads in her nose it looked as though somebody had sprinkled a pepper pot over it. There was a ripple of laughter, and Dianne glared daggers at her. Tops shrugged:

"If you can't do the time you shouldn't do the crime," she said. "No good blarting about it, that won't win you any sympathy in here."

"We didn't do the crime," said Dianne. "We didn't do anything."

"I don't call smuggling cocaine up your snatch doing nothing," said another woman.

"What?" exclaimed Dianne. "What are you talking about?"

"That's what you did isn't it?" demanded Tops.

"No it is not," said Dianne. "I'll tell you exactly what we did: we went on holiday to Mexico: the first time we've ever been abroad. We met two boys: they were charming and friendly, and told us they had cousins in England. When it was time for us to leave they asked us to take teddy bears back for these cousins. They told us they were special bears, football team mascots that you can't buy anywhere else. So we took them. Then the Customs Officers took them off us and slit them open: they were full of cocaine."

There were whistles and mutterings as this information sank home.

"So that's the 'crime' we've committed," said the girl.

"This is very tragic Dianne," said Prana.

"If it's true," sniffed Tops.

"This is very tragic," Prana repeated. "But there are many people in here who should not be in here. You must make the best of it. You are both attractive girls: you will be very popular in here. But let me give you one piece of advice: make sure you shave properly. Because if you don't you will lose all your beautiful hair just like I did."

"Is that what happened to you?" asked Dianne.

"Yes," said Prana. "Until last week I too had beautiful dark hair. Now look at me. All because of that woman Dawes. Watch out for her Dianne, because she is evil."

"Sshhh, Prana," I hissed: for even as she was speaking I saw the hated figure of Dawes stumping across the yard towards us. It was rare for a Warden to bother a prisoner during Exercise, and for a second I thought she must have somehow overheard; and when I realised this was impossible I had a second, paranoid thought that perhaps the Wardens could lip-read.

But it was not Prana or myself who had drawn her wrath, but rather Lisa. Taking hold of her arm and roughly pulling her around, Dawes said:

"I've put you into these things for a reason: so everybody can see just what a dirty little nuisance you are. So stop trying to hide away with your cellmate. Walk a circuit of the Exercise Yard now, where everybody can see you. The rest of you, stop crowding round her."

We all dispersed promptly. Lisa, still looking dazed, set off vaguely around the perimeter, the nappy bulging between her bare legs. Prana stared long and hard at Dawes' departing back: if looks could have killed, Office Dawes would have been writhing in her death throes.

"This is the sickest thing I ever saw," said Prana.

"Come on," I said, taking her hand, fearful she would say or do something. "Don't give her the satisfaction."

Prana seemed to pull herself together:

"I met a man in the massage parlour once who liked to wear a nappy," she said, allowing me to steer her in the opposite direction to Dawes. "He liked me to pretend I was his mummy. I had to rub baby oil into his balls then wank him off. Funny thing was, he had the biggest dick I ever saw."

I laughed, then watching Lisa in the distance tried to imagine what it would be like to be forced to wear a nappy. I could almost feel the warm wet piss filling the fabric, spreading its warmth over my mound, between my pussy lips and my bum cheeks: but instead of empathising with the disgust and humiliation Lisa and Dianne were experiencing, I felt randy. I've been too long without a rub, I thought.

"Prana," I said. "Let's have a rub together: I don't know about you but I really need one."

"That is a good idea Chloe," said Prana. "Since Fartski left no-one else has touched me. Let's rub the thought of Dawes out of our systems."

I was mightily relieved to find Prana had at least recovered sufficiently for sex; and, though it might not have been to her liking, I was secretly pleased that no new cellmate had joined her, and that I was now the only person she would rub with. Relieved of uncertainty, I gave myself up to the hot stirrings between my legs.

"Let's find some space," I said, eyeing the far end of the cage, where only Fatima was stationed.

"Good idea," said Prana. "And now tell me why you too have had such a bad time."

"It doesn't matter any more, I'll sort it out," I said: for being with Prana had the effect of making everything else seem unimportant. "It's just that I wasn't going to shave - so that Dawes would shave my head like yours - only Rose stopped me. Well, forced me really: we had a fight about it, and I bit her bottom and she spanked me."

Prana stopped dead in her tracks in the centre of the Exercise Yard.

"What is this?" she asked. "What are you telling me Chloe?"

So I told her the whole saga.

"Tell me this is not true, Chloe," said Prana, stepping back from me and looking me directly in the eyes.

"It is true," I said.

"Chloe how could you do this?" Prana demanded, anger and disbelief distorting her face.

"I thought you'd be pleased," I said.

"Pleased?" shouted Prana. "Dawes has done this terrible thing to me, and you thought I would be pleased if she did it to you also? Are you crazy Chloe?"

"But you said - you said it wouldn't be so bad if everyone was the same," I said defensively.

"Maybe I said this," said Prana, "but I didn't mean for it to happen to you as well. It is bad enough that I suffer: you think it will make me happy if you suffer also? You are stupid, stupid Chloe. And Rose was right to stop you. She has more sense than you Chloe: and yet you fought with her."

"But she spanked me," I protested.

"Only because you bit her bottom" said Prana. "Most people in here, you bite their bottom you end up in hospital. If somebody bit my bottom I too would be very angry. You are a fool Chloe: you must apologise to Rose and try to make it up with her."

By now there were tears in my eyes.

"I only tried to do it for you Prana," I said. "Don't you understand, I love you."

"Then this is a very silly way to show it," said Prana. "I am angry Chloe: I am going to walk away now, before I say something I will regret."

"Prana! Come back: Please!" I shouted, as she turned and began to walk away. But she did not come back.

"Prana: I haven't given you your chocolate," I called in desperation, watching until her diminutive figure and almost-bald head were swallowed-up in the crowd.

With tears like needle-points pricking my eyes I walked to the nearest stretch of fence, gripped with both hands, and banged my head again and again against the mesh. Then I let out a stifled scream, which only made my throat hurt.

Then I sank down onto my haunches. First Rose, and now Prana had deserted me. What was wrong with me? Was it really all my own fault?

The worst of it was, I was beginning to think that this was the case. I went over everything, trying to see things from Prana's point of view. If our positions had been reversed, would I have been pleased had she deliberately tried to get her head shaved? No, of course I wouldn't. I'd have felt guilty and partly responsible and cross. And Rose, too: She wasn't really trying to bully me: as she saw it she was trying to save me from myself. And I had bitten her for her trouble. And even though it was humiliating and painful to be pinned down and spanked, I had to admit that my pride was hurt far more than my bottom.

It looked as though I was going to have to swallow a large dose of that pride.

I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, and wondering where and when it would be best to apologise to Rose. The ground was damp, and I tucked my skirt carefully under my bottom. Across the yard some of the prisoners had got hold of a length of string from somewhere and had tied one end to the fence, to form a skipping rope. Someone - it looked like Fran - was holding the other end and swinging it whilst other women jumped over. Occasionally Fran would tug the string upwards whilst somebody was straddling it: there were shrieks of laughter and pretend outrage as the string pulled tight against the woman's crotch.

Then Micky came across the Exercise Yard and slid down on her haunches beside me.

"You look very unhappy," she said.

"It's nothing," I said, not wanting to go through the whole rigmarole again. "Just a spat with Rose: I'll put it right."

"I saw Prana walking away from you," said Micky.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said.

"OK Chloe," Micky said.

I really wanted her to leave me alone, but didn't like to say so. I thought if I just said nothing she might take the hint, so I stared at the pattern of shadows cast by the mesh over our legs and sandals. But after a few minutes of silence she said:

"Chloe: would you like me to rub you? It might make you feel better."

This took me by surprise, though I'd been half expecting it for some time. I hesitated briefly: I knew half my troubles were the result of frustration, and the idea of a helping hand was very tempting. But I didn't want to encourage Micky; and I still felt too upset.

"That's kind Micky - thank you," I said. "But I'm not in the mood. What I really want is just to be left alone."

"OK," she said, though obviously disappointed. "But wouldn't you like to talk about it?"

"I really do want to be left alone," I said.

Micky stood up, and without another word walked away. I felt worse than ever - now I'd hurt her feelings on top of everything else. I wondered if there was time to put things right before another precious hour of freedom had been wasted, and scanned the distant women looking for Rose, but I could not see her. Really I would have much preferred to apologise in private, in our cell: but then I would not be able to tell Prana we had made up until next Showers. I was running through what I would say to Rose, when I thought I heard my name being called.

"Chloe."

It was faint, but unmistakeable. I looked around, but there was nobody nearby, except Fatima, who like me was sitting against the mesh fence with her head between her knees.

"Fatima?" I said. "Did you call me?"

"Yes Chloe," she said: again I could barely hear her. For one thing she had a soft, high-pitched voice, which was completely at odds with her body, for she was quite a substantial girl with full breasts and strong thighs; for another, she kept her hands in front of her face as she spoke, as though she could barely admit, even to herself, that she had spoken to me.

"I can hardly hear you," I said. "Wait a minute."

I shuffled across, and sat myself down again next to her. She seemed uneasy about this, for, having glanced at me she continued to face forwards with her hands resolutely pressed to her face.