Haven Pt. 01

She saw Brianna eyeing her thigh via the high split in her dress and wondered, as she often did, if there was any sexual desire on Brianna's side. She liked the idea that she could be desired by women as well as men, but the thought of physical contact with a woman her turned her stomach.

The car slowed turned into the Baudelaire driveway. Olivia produced a device and pointed it at the gate. The device seemed to scrawl through a catalogue of options to a soundtrack of subtle electronic blips and crackles. Suddenly the gates parted and retracted into the walls.

'Turn the car around and wait here. If you see anyone coming, call me because we'll have to make a fast departure in the boat.'

'What about me?'

'Just say you got lost and were turning around. If you don't call, I'll bring the guys out the gate and we'll head to the villa behind the trees at the side of the road. You got all that?'

'Yeah,' said Brianna. She was still shaking.

'For God's sake, pop a Xanax, will you, Brianna?' said Olivia and strode proudly into the shadows of the garden in her sexy backless gown and white trainers.

The moonlight illuminated Olivia's path as she found her way to the steps that led down to the dock. Before she could see the boat, she could hear the familiar sounds of male revelry and felt a thrill of excitement not only for the money she was making, but also for the chance to break her ten-month dry spell.

A silence fell across the boat as one-by-one the young men caught sight of her long legs and silver gown. 'Good evening, boys!' she announced, striking a pose with her arms raised to the sky. 'Excuse the shoes -- I've left my heels back the villa; not ideal for climbing up and down these rocky stairs!'

There was a roar of appreciation and she bathed its glory. So many lustful pairs of eyes fixated her made her feel like a queen. 'Who's ready for some fun?' There was another cheer. 'Okay, okay! Keep it down!' she grinned, 'We don't want to attract any attention. Where's Steve?' she scanned the faces and physiques on the boat, intentionally working out which guys she was going to target that evening.

'Hey, darlin'!' called Steve, her ex-boyfriend.

'A good turnout you have here. And we've got 24 lovely ladies waiting to meet you all, so follow me but keep quiet!'

This was followed by a muted cheer as the men scrambled to get off the boat. Once back in the garden they jostled and peacocked for Olivia's attention. She considered that this may be one of the greatest days of her life -- a scheme that got her unequalled attention, money and sex.

It was only as she arrived at the gate that she noticed things weren't as she left them. Brianna and her car were gone. In the darkness of the tree-lined driveway she could just make out the shape of two cars and a van.

Exterior security lights from the house switched on, illuminating the entire troop. At the same time the red and blue lights on top of the vehicles in the driveway flashed awake. Olivia and the men were dazzled. A loudspeaker from one of the cars announced: 'L.P.P.D.! Stop where you are and raise your hands!' The accent was distinctly Jamaican.

The men raised their hands, but Olivia was too pissed off to be intimidated.

'You too, lady! If you do not comply, we will use a stun gun.' Several figures emerged from the driveway, silhouetted by the flashing lights. Two had stun guns trained on Olivia.

She slowly raised her hands. 'You obviously don't know who I am!' she shouted.

'Yes, I do,' said the senior officer with the Jamaican accent. 'You are under arrest!'

CHAPTER 8

The following afternoon at the Haven Law Courts, Olivia sat in a private room across the table from her state-appointed defence attorney and Ngaire Brown.

'I was set up!' shouted Olivia.

'You weren't "set up"; you were dobbed-in for something you knew damn well was illegal,' said Ngaire. She was seething. 'Have you got any fuckin' idea how embarrassing this is for me? And for the country!'

'You care more about the country and yourself than you do about me!'

'Under these circumstances, Olivia, y'fuckin' oath, I do!' She leaned forward and jabbed the surface of the table with her finger. 'I am the leading founder of this country! I'm the one who shipped you over here! I got you an apartment and a job and what do you do? In less than a year, you jack in the job and become the first woman arrested for breaking and entering, people smuggling, blackmail, suspected pimping and assaulting a police officer! Up until now the most anyone got charged for was being drunk and disorderly!'

Olivia was cavalier as she leaned back in her chair. 'I didn't "assault" her.'

'Under L'île de la Paix law, using the N-word as you did is classed as a verbal assault,' said the attorney, trying to use her tone to calm the tension in the room.

'And she has you on body cam saying it too!' said Ngaire. 'Well done!'

'Hold on, what do you mean, blackmail?' asked Olivia.

'Miss Woroson has made a statement saying you threatened to throw her off Halcyon Peak unless she helped you in your endeavour.' answered the attorney.

Ngaire threw up her hands in disbelief, 'For f... And she's supposed to be your mate!'

'I know. Backstabbing bitch. She's in for it.'

'No...' Ngaire took a deep breath. 'I mean: you don't threaten to kill your friends, Olivia!'

'Look, are you going to get me off or what?' Olivia responded, as though she had somewhere else to be.

Ngaire was momentarily gobsmacked. 'No, I'm not going to get you off, Olivia. They've got you banged to rights: they've got the friend you threatened, who then told the cops what you were up to; they've got the twenty-four tarts who were stupid enough to pay you to pimp them out;...'

Olivia couldn't help but smirk at it being put that way.

'...they've got 25 dickheads who travelled all the way here from Sydney without enough fuel to get them home again; and they've got you on security camera, dressed like Cinder-fuckin'-ella in sneakers, welcoming them onto the island and leading them through the garden of one of the Founding Mothers! How stupid do you have to be?!'

'I was told that there was no security at that house!' Olivia snapped at the insult.

'On what planet does one of the richest women in the world not put up security cameras!? Who told you that?!'

'If I tell you, will you get me off?'

'No!'

'I'm your niece! Have you forgotten or do you just want to walk out on me like you did when I was ten?'

Ngaire paused. 'Can you give a minute, please?' she said to the attorney.

'Of course,' she replied and left the room.

Ngaire lowered her voice. 'Look, Olivia, I'm your aunt, not your mother. She ran off to God-knows-where at a time when none of us had anything. I've spent the years since working to get where I am today and, believe it or not, part of the reason this island exists is because it's what I wanted for you.'

'Yeah, right.' Olivia replied.

'Maybe one of the reasons you keep doing things like this is because you can't believe when things are going well and so you feel the need to make your own backup plans. If that's the case, I can get you some therapy--'

'Spare me the amateur psychology, Ngaire. I don't need a shrink -- I need people to leave me alone so I can get ahead in life.'

'Not by breaking the rules on my island, you don't, Olivia. There's too much at stake.' Ngaire opened the door and beckoned in the attorney. 'What's the best we can hope for?' she asked her.

'This is the first case of its kind so it's possible the judge will want to make an example to discourage others. I've spoken with the prosecutor and, as it's a first offence, as long as Olivia sincerely apologises--including to the black police officer she insulted--and promises to make amends, she may get away with a fine for the property damage and one hundred days of incarceration, which could get reduced to community service if she displays good behaviour.'

'Community service?' Olivia interrupted. 'I'm not picking up litter in an orange jumpsuit for the whole island to gander at!'

The attorney continued to address Ngaire: 'If she doesn't sincerely repent for what she's done, the prosecutor could recommend a minimum two hundred days of incarceration with attitude adjustment therapy, plus the fines.'

Ngaire looked to her niece. 'What do you say, Olivia? The world will be watching. Can you swallow your pride and give a sincere apology?'

Olivia sat back and crossed her arms. 'If I'm the only one in the prison, it's just going to be like a holiday.'

PART III

CHAPTER 9

Olivia made a silent vow that she would not be riled by anything the prison system threw at her.

She had already endured what she believed would be the most challenging part of her entire stay when a prison guard with latex gloves and an XXXL shirt--which was still a tight fit--performed a cavity search on her. This was her first test and she passed: no matter how much she disliked being touched by another woman, she didn't even allow herself to frown.

She had to follow the rules but would not change her personality to suit their idea of who she should be. She would follow the schedule, answer their questions and go along with the "attitude adjustment therapy" -- she knew she could easily convince some old biddy with a notepad that she was rehabilitated within two hundred days. In the meantime, she planned to take the free meals and bed, exercise her way to further hotness and intricately devise a new, airtight scheme.

On the first morning she woke early and was brushing her hair when a loud metallic clanking sounded outside her cell door. The peephole on the door slid open and a wooden spoon rattled inside a saucepan. The clanking filled the room and was obviously intended to irritate, but Olivia maintained an unaffected poise as a pair of blue eyes appeared at the hole and guard with a Texan accent announced, 'Up and at 'em, inmate! Breakfast in fifteen!'

'I'm already awake, thank you,' Olivia replied, continuing to brush her hair.

Her first breakfast amused her as it was very easy to perceive the prison as her own private hotel: she was escorted to the canteen, kitchen staff served her a meal and she sat alone in the centre of a pristine dining area while three guards stood by the exits. She chose to imagine them to be her own personal bodyguards.

She sipped at her water and spoke to the young guard who stood closest to her with a tone that insinuated she was lucky to be addressed, 'I suppose it's nice for you to have someone to take care of after all this time twiddling your thumbs?'

The young guard didn't answer. Instead, the senior guard with the Texan accent whose name tag read Williams said, 'I wouldn't overdo the water, if I were you.'

Olivia didn't know how to take this comment and so nodded politely, downed the water and got herself a refill.

After breakfast, she was escorted to the showers, which were again pristine and all to herself.

'A.A.T. in forty-two minutes,' said Williams as she returned Olivia to the cell.

'Thank you, Jeeves,' said Olivia. This was a slip of the tongue -- she had intended for the word Jeeves to be silent. But, instead of annoyance, she sensed a slight amusement in Williams's eyes.

'Be ready,' said Williams.

'I will, thank you,' Olivia replied, turning her back to the senior guard.

Forty minutes later Williams and the young guard, whose name tag read Martinez, collected Olivia from her cell and escorted her through several corridors to a door with a sign that read A.A.T Suite. No Entry if Red Light is On.

Olivia expected to find a comfortable room with armchairs, perhaps a chez lounge, shelves filled with books on criminal psychology and a grey-haired hippy in round spectacles ready to welcome her. Instead, as Williams opened the door and lead her in, she found a brightly lit, clinical-looking room with an indescribably pleasant smell of newness. The back of the room was a wall-to-wall closet and the tiled floor dipped in the centre where a drain sat beneath an elaborate and adjustable padded chair with individual arm and leg supports and sturdy, padded, adjustable and lockable stocks at the wrist and ankle positions.

Olivia held her poker face despite being confused and concerned by what she saw. She then registered the two women standing in front of the closet -- one was tall, black, with modelesque chiselled features. She was dressed as some kind of mystic.

Next to her stood a petite Japanese woman, dressed in a white variant of the prison guards' grey and navy uniform. Olivia supposed she was pretty.

'Prisoner Jenson for you, ma'am,' said Williams.

'Thank you, Ms Williams,' replied the tall black woman, with a strong Ghanaian accent. 'You can leave us now.'

Olivia noticed a smirk on Williams's lips as she took one last look at her before leaving the room.

There was a moment of silence as the two women regarded Olivia. 'You may call me Miss Baidoo,' said Kisi. 'Top and bottoms off and sit the chair, please, Prisoner Jenson.'

'Pardon?' said Olivia.

'This is your attitude adjustment therapy session, please remove your top, trousers, shoes and socks.'

'Why?'

'Firstly, because I am telling you to and, secondly, so that I don't have to call five or six officers in here to do it for you.'

Olivia raised her chin as the illusion of being in her own private hotel & spa began to fade. She turned to hide her irritation at being told what to do by this woman and was about to lift her top when she saw a window that covered the front wall, behind which sat an audience of around thirty women of all ages and ethnic groups, each dressed the same as the Japanese woman.

'Quicker!' said Kisi.

'Why are they there?'

'You've no need to be embarrassed -- you are going to get to know each of these therapists by the time you leave here. Now, will you get undressed or do I have to call the officers?'

Despite the humiliation of stripping in front of all these women, Olivia considered that it would be worse to be forcibly stripped and so she pulled off her top while imagining that she was stripping for a paying audience.

'That took longer than necessary,' Kisi commented. 'Onto the chair -- legs up.'

Now in just her prison-issued bra and panties, Olivia sat on the chair. The rubber padding was cool against her skin as she lifted her legs onto the supports. Kisi flipped open a panel on the wall to reveal a touchscreen of options. She touched it and the chair elevated about three feet.

Kisi spoke as she and the Japanese lady set about unceremoniously locking the stocks around Olivia's wrists and ankles: 'I am the Head Therapist here at the Haven Correctional Facility. This is Miss Aoki. She and everyone behind that window have been trained by me in my specialist area, which we will be implementing today for your attitude realignment. I will not answer any questions you have about the methods I use. Just trust me that at the end of the course you will be a better person for it...'

Olivia resisted a strong urge to display even the smallest inkling of her intent to undermine this facility.

The women continued by securing curved metal bars across her elbows and kneecaps and, while they weren't touching her, she found that she couldn't bend her arms or legs any more than a centimetre. 'You may like to know,' said Kisi, 'that, as the first inmate at Haven, you are the first person in the country to receive this treatment outside of training sessions, which is why we have so many observers today.'

She pressed the touchscreen again and a digital clock appeared on the wall. It read 00:00:00. The seconds began to tick... 00:00:01...00:00:02... She took a seat in the corner of the room, 'Over to you, Miss Aoki.'

CHAPTER 10

Sora Aoki bowed to her mentor and turned to Olivia, who, despite the ungainly position of having her legs spread at a 90º angle, and arms locked out to the side, had perfected a look of lofty indifference. It was her vs. the world and she was going to win! All she needed to know was what she was up against. She prepared herself for whatever was to come--electric shocks, waterboarding, whatever--they couldn't kill or seriously harm her, so whatever she was to go through, she would just come out stronger in the end.

Sora moved to Olivia's side. Olivia occupied herself by maintaining a blank expression while looking into the eyes of one of the older women in the observation room who had an equally blank expression.

Suddenly, Olivia jumped. At first she didn't know why but then realised it was because the Japanese woman had poked her in the side. This was not a sensation she was familiar with and she steeled herself against it happening again. Then Sora poked in her upper ribs and she jumped. She tensed up the entire left side of her body and when she was again poked in her waist, it resulted in little more than a tiny wiggle in the seat. But, before she could react, Sora reached across and tweaked her waist on the other side, causing her to jump and gasp.

Sora moved to between Olivia's legs and worked her way down from the top of her thighs with a series of light pincer grips. Olivia jerked in the seat with each move; they were done so quickly that she wasn't able to prepare herself for the next and when the final one tweaked just above her kneecaps, it caused her entire body to stiffen and she let out an involuntary sound of resistance in her throat.

Sora then took a step back and performed the same pincer movements down Olivia's shins. This was not particularly troublesome, but Olivia felt an increasing tingle of anguish in her feet the closer the other woman came to touching them, as though her body was sending an alarm call of protest.

This was also unusual. Olivia had obviously experienced pain and pleasure before: she'd trodden on pointed stones in her bare feet and she'd been given foot massages by one boyfriend, but she'd never experienced *this*.

She watched as Sora looked to her soles. Olivia was unable to stop the unfamiliar build of anticipation in her feet and ankles. It felt like a concentrated form of restless-leg syndrome and as Sora raised her hands Olivia attempted to retract her legs, which was, of course, impossible. Sora performed a split-second ripple of fingers up Olivia's soles.

'YAP!' Olivia blurted out and she jolted in the seat. She silently cursed her body's reactions but was able to compose herself as Sora stepped away and nodded as though confirming a suspicion.

Sora disappeared out of sight behind the chair and Olivia tensed her entire upper body in preparation for any surprise that could be implemented from her current position. Olivia's eyes met Kisi's as she wondered what these women would do next.

She then noticed something in her peripheral vision -- Sora's hands were approaching slowly on either side. She doubled the strength of her muscles in her torso but the hands closed in on her underarms. The same restless tingle that she felt in her feet now aggravated her armpits and there was nothing she could do to tense or defend them.

As Sora's fingers invaded her armpits, she felt a strange whimper clambering to be released from her throat. She held Kisi's gaze but felt her stony expression beginning to falter: her nostrils were pulsing, the corners of her mouth quivered and her eyebrows started to raise in the middle. She bit hard on her tongue in an attempt to suppress the compulsions she felt bubbling inside her and took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve. It worked momentarily, but she quickly realised that if she released the breath she might lose control.

The incessant stroking of her armpits continued as she wondered why the hell this was lasting so long when everywhere else on her body had just been given split-second tests?