The Jailhouse Blues Ch. 01

I'd better start watching my step here, I thought to myself. Prison officer Melanie was starting to make it personal. I noticed she had stopped calling me prisoner Lightwood, and she was now addressing me just by my surname - and derisively emphasising the first part of my name: making heavy of the Light, in Lightwood, as it were.

Prison officer Natalie then asked me, "Leonard, do you know why you have been brought to Greystone Prison - I mean, brought here especially, instead of being sent to some other jail?"

"I think so, Miss Natalie," I replied, taking care now to eradicate from my voice as best as I could any giveaway hint of my resentment of their unnecessarily harsh treatment of me.

"The judge at Sodbury Crown Court told me that my manners towards females leave a lot to be desired. She said I have no sense of propriety. So she was sending me here, she told me, to learn how to behave appropriately towards females. In Greystone Prison, she said, the errors of my ways would be thoroughly drummed out of me. And teachings, as to how to behave with propriety towards females, would be thoroughly drummed into me, by the female prison officers here."

"Yes," agreed prison officer Melanie. "Yes, that is what is going to happen. But, do you know, exactly, what is going to happen to you, Lightwood? Exactly?"

"Er ... no, I don't, Miss Melanie. The lady judge didn't exactly say."

Prison officer Melanie's eyes gleamed. "Good. Because now I, shall have the pleasure of telling you," she said with great relish. "You are going to be a foot servant, Lightwood. You are going to serve at the feet of female prison officers. Just like every other prisoner sentenced to serve here, for Ungentlemanly Conduct.

"At one time or another during your imprisonment here, you will have gotten to serve us all. And that is something you can count on - we'll make sure of it. However short a prisoner's stay with us may be, we always ensure that he has been made to serve each and every one of us, during his time here. And, some of us, a prisoner will have served many times, before he leaves us. Because sometimes, a prison officer might take a certain fancy, to a particular prisoner ... Lightwood."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I couldn't believe what prison officer Melanie had just told me: I was going to become a ... foot servant? To the prison officers? And, before I got out of this damned place, they would ensure that I had got to "serve at the feet" of every one of them? Some of them, many times - because some of them might "take a certain fancy" to me?

Smirking in satisfaction at my slack-jawed, incredulous expression, prison officer Melanie went on with zeal. "To be more precise, you will actually be worshiping, our feet, Lightwood.

"As a means of initiating, and then gradually instilling into you, the concept of propriety - that is to say: first, kick-starting your barely evolved notions of decorum, respect, and deference, towards females, and then systematically developing them - every day, you will be made to worship our feet.

"Particularly, the soles of our feet.

"Primarily, this will involve you kissing our feet, inhaling our foot scent, and also oral servitude, as instructed.

"Primarily, your oral servitude to us will entail sucking on and licking in between our toes; licking our soles; and licking and sucking on the bottoms of our heels. Again, there will inevitably be instructional variations, since, as you might expect, different prison officers will require different Foot Service attentions from you.

"Generally, you will perform your servitude exactly as you are instructed, by prison officers. While occasionally, to show us what stage you have reached, on your evolutionary journey, prison officers will give you free reign, to allow you the opportunity to independently demonstrate your state of progress.

"In this way, myself and officer Natalie, and every other prison officer in Greystone Prison, will turn your ideas around.

"By allowing you and encouraging you - no, by tempting you, and inciting you - to desire and lust after our bodies, while allowing you only to serve at and service our feet, though acting as a collective, we will all play an integral role in the refocusing of your aberrant mindset: We will all play our own, individual part, in imbuing you with a sense of propriety towards females."

My mind was in a whirl.

Prison officer Melanie was making me feel dizzy. All topsy-turvy. I just couldn't get my head around all of the things she was saying to me. Such crazy things. I mean, was she for real? She couldn't be!

Prison officer Natalie said, "Actually, Mel ... why don't we have Leonard for lunch, tomorrow? I'll book us a slot in the Staff canteen, shall I? For twelve-thirty till one o'clock. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great, Nat," said prison officer Melanie eagerly. "I'll enjoy showing prisoner Lightwood a thing or two; show him that I can walk the walk, as well as talk the talk. Oh yes, I'll really enjoy giving him a ... taste, of just what is in store for him here for the next three months."

"Consider it done, Mel," replied prison officer Natalie with equal relish, writing the memo in a spiral-bound notepad on her desk.

"And I agree with you, Mel: I don't like Leonard's tone either. I definitely detected a note of insolence, when he spoke back to me. Like you said, Mel, he needs to lose the attitude - and fast. And we can help him with that."

"Yes," agreed prison officer Melanie. "I'll very much enjoy initiating him to Prisoners' Canteen Service ... It's always nice to be the first, isn't it? The first to make them realise, just exactly what they've got coming to them. In fact, I'm already really looking forward to it; looking forward to having his disrespectful face at my feet - and under them. He's going to get the shock of his life, Nat, when he gets his first whiffs of our stinky bare feet - and finds there's not a thing he can do about it! Not to mention, performing Foot-Cleaning Duties for us while we have our lunch!"

"I'll enter our booking into the computer, Mel, just as soon as Leonard is taken off our hands. Table six, if it's still available: being fairly central, there's also a good view of what's going on with prisoners under most of the other tables, too."

Prison officer Melanie then returned her attention to me.

"So, something for you to look forward to already, Lightwood: a lunch date, tomorrow, with two lovely young ladies ... Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes ... Very often, Lightwood, prison officers, patrolling the Wings in pairs, may simply use prisoners' faces as convenient footrests while they idle away a little time. This is the common - in fact, the customary, practice here," prison officer Melanie informed me.

What, the ...? I thought.

And then I thought: Ah ... Now I get it: They are winding me up! That's all. Trying to get me going. They just have to be!

They probably do this to new prisoners, I thought, when maybe things are a bit slow, and they feel like having a laugh. To give the new inmates a bit of a fright.

I mean, worshiping the prison officers' feet? Come off it! Who ever heard of such an outrageous, diabolical practice? Prison officers Natalie and Melanie were talking a load of tosh - none of these things could really actually happen! They were talking a lot of bunkum. Obviously!

There were procedures and protocols; measures in place, to prevent abuse of prisoners. Weren't there? I mean, just the very idea of it, was completely off the wall. Completely—

"Earth, to Lightwood ..." said prison officer Melanie, breaking into my musings. "Do you hear what I'm saying, Lightwood? Or do you need another slap, to wake you up ...? While you are locked up in your cell, day after day, prison officers will often call you to Foot Service, to break the monotony - theirs, that is. And it could be at any time. Day or night. And you - and your cellmate too, if that is the requirement of the prison officers - will respond immediately. Or it'll be the cane ... or worse.

"Presenting yourself to the summoning prison officers, you will make your face available to them for Footrest Duties - and, for any other Foot Service duties, for that matter, that the prison officers may wish to avail themselves of.

"It may be the case, that the prison officers require you to massage their feet. In which case, they will insert their feet between the bars of your cell, for you to be able to perform your foot-massage services. You will first pass through to the prison officers the two folding-seats from your cell so that they can sit down. And you and your cellmate will then perform your foot-massage services for them, whilst on your knees.

"Or it may be the case - and, this would be most likely - that your oral services are required by the prison officers.

"In the latter case, the prison officers will order you to Assume the Position. How you are to do this, will be shown to you when you are taken to your cell; no doubt, your cellmate will demonstrate to you the ... ins and outs, of it."

For some reason, prison officer Natalie had a little chuckle at that.

Did they really think, for one moment, that I was actually being taken in by them? I thought. That I was fooled, by their utter codswallop? That I was actually swallowing all of their fantastical poppycock? That I could be hoodwinked, this easily?

Prison officer Melanie continued, "Once you have assumed the position, Lightwood, the prison officers will then restrain you by securing your wrists, arms apart, in the bracelets set into the bars of your cell. And then, as instructed, you will duly provide your oral services to their feet.

"Perhaps, it will be a nice, refreshing tongue-bath, for them. And then ... who knows? The prison officers may then release you, and let you go back to bed, if its night-time ... Or, maybe they won't. It all depends, doesn't it ...?

"Maybe, Lightwood, the prison officer on Night Duty at whose feet you've served will be of the opinion that you didn't show sufficient willing, on this occasion. That your heart simply wasn't in it, this time. And that you are in danger of stalling, on your road to rehabilitation ... And hers, Lightwood, as you will do well to remember, is the only opinion that counts.

"And so she may just leave you there, restrained to the bars of your cell ... for next time. A convenient footrest, all ready and available for the next prison officers who come along - so that they needn't have to trouble themselves with the tiresome business of ordering you out of your bed, all sleepy-headed, in the middle of the night.

"Or, if she's patrolling the Wings on your Level all night, maybe she'll just leave you there, all muddle-minded and miserable from lack of sleep. Leaving your face available for her own, personal convenience, ready and waiting for each time she completes another circuit of her Wing patrol - and to give you the opportunity to try and redeem yourself for your earlier lacklustre expressions of due propriety, and to make it up to her."

Prison officer Natalie said, "And I'll tell you something, Leonard. For getting off on the wrong foot, with us both, that is exactly what me and officer Melanie are going to do to you the next time we are on Night Duty: deprive you of sleep. Have you any idea, just how horrible that is? Well, I promise you now, Leonard, officer Melanie and me will make sure that you find out - and, trust me: we've got the perfect 'smelling salts', to keep you awake with. We both hate Night Duty. And, well, if we can't get a good night's sleep, why should we let ill-behaved prisoners like you sleep? That's what we say. And it would be a long, long night for you, Leonard. A long, long night, of making it up - to us."

Yeah, yeah, I thought - but didn't say.

Prison officer Melanie resumed, "So, Lightwood ... you had better make sure that you always satisfy the prison officers, when they call you to Foot Service. Make sure that you show some willing; an eagerness to please. Try to make evident, some discernible sign of your progress. Above all, you will need to convince prison officers that your heart is in it.

"This way, Lightwood, you will inevitably learn what you so badly need to learn. It's a steep learning curve, yes. But, over time, as you are routinely subjected to our methods and practices, you will learn. And you will learn well. As, day after day, at the feet of female prison officers, a sense of propriety is relentlessly and thoroughly drummed into you," prison officer Melanie told me.

"And your sense of propriety will inevitably further develop," she went on. "And continue to evolve, as our teachings start to become ingrained, and you are gradually imbued with the due deference to females that you so clearly lack at the present time.

"So that, in the future, you will at all times demonstrate the requisite reverence to females that today's society demands. Because it will have become second nature, to you, to duly conduct yourself with such unthinking attention and unfailing adherence to the prescribed protocols of male behavioural propriety: Due deference, due decorum, due respect, due reverence - due propriety - an automatic response ... Do you see, Lightwood?"

I just could not believe my ears ... What a load of absolute hogwash! I thought. What gobbledygook!

Yes, I could understand being required to respectfully address prison officers as 'Miss'. That would be de rigueur in a prison environment, and was only to be expected, I supposed.

And, though I had been somewhat surprised and shocked by it, even prison officer Melanie's harsh, summary face-slapping discipline didn't seem too much out of place or out of order, either.

I hadn't even thought that the prison officers' on-the-spot use of their canes, in the event of that putting-their-foot-down, extra disciplinary enforcement measure being called for, was exactly over the top.

But, all the rest of it?

All of this Foot Service, and Assume the Position nonsense?

And Prisoners' Canteen Service, with their under-the-table Foot-Cleaning Duties?

And prisoners' faces, routinely being used as convenient footrests for the Wing-patrolling prison officers, as was the "customary practice" here?

With Night Duty prison officers actually depriving prisoners of their sleep?

Even to the extent of keeping them awake, all night long ("and, trust me: we've got the perfect 'smelling salts', to keep you awake with"), with their wrists restrained to the bars of their cell, if their middle-of-the-night Foot Service - their foot worship - performance was deemed not up to scratch?

Because their heart wasn't in it?

Or maybe, as in my case, for "getting off on the wrong foot", with prison officers?

Did prison officers Natalie and Melanie really think I was actually swallowing their load of old cobblers? I could imagine them both having a right old laugh, as soon as I stepped out of the security checkpoint building. And later sharing the joke, at tea-break with their prison officer colleagues.

"Yes, Miss Melanie," I said. "I see."

Prison officer Natalie then switched on her desk microphone and spoke into it. "This is Control ... A new prisoner has just arrived: Leonard Lightwood, aged twenty. He's in for three Crimes Against Females transgressions. Three months, for Ungentlemanly Conduct. Requesting two officers to escort him to his cell: Cell sixteen - Level One. Over."

There was a brief crackle of radio static, and then a crisp, no-nonsense sounding voice replied: "Control, received. This is officer Bella Donna. Officer Billie Jo and I have just finished our tea break, and are now leaving the Staff canteen. We can attend. ETA two minutes. Over."

Prison officer Natalie replied, "Received, officer Bella Donna. Thank you. Please attend. Over and out."

"Here, Lightwood, these are for you," said prison officer Melanie, handing me a clear plastic bag containing two dark grey T-shirts, two pairs of dark grey shorts, and what looked like a pair of dark grey soft-fabric slippers. I could see that, printed on the front of one of the T-shirts in bold black letters, was: Prisoner Leonard Lightwood: Cell 16 - Level 1.

"Those are what you will be wearing from now on," prisoner officer Melanie told me. "It's the same uniform that is issued to community servants - except for the colour; theirs is white. And obviously the footwear is different. Prisoners here are issued with bootees: they are nice and quiet, and are of little use as offensive weapons. Change into your prisoner's uniform in your cell. Put your street clothes, shoes, and any jewellery you are wearing, including your wristwatch, in the bag. Someone will collect them later. You will get the items back, upon your release from prison."

Just then, the door of the security checkpoint building opened again, and in walked two cane-wielding Greystone Prison officers. According to their name-tags, they were officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo.

Upon her setting eyes on me, prison officer Bella Donna looked me up and down, giving me the once-over. She didn't seem very impressed with what she saw. Turning to the two receiving officers, she said, "Humph," which was obviously her considered opinion of me.

Prison officer Bella Donna then asked prison officers Natalie and Melanie, "Does he know what's in store for him? Have you told him?"

Oh-oh, I immediately thought to myself. She's one to be wary of, this prison officer Bella Donna.

I knew it instinctively. I could sense it straight away, just from the look of her; just from my first impression. And upon hearing her speak, she had left me in absolutely no doubt. It wasn't so much what she'd said, because she hadn't said much. But it had been enough. Quite enough. There'd been enough, in her voice, to tell me all I needed to know. Enough, to get an irrefutable, unshakable sense of her nature.

I'd heard it said that fear can have the effect of causing the hairs on the backs of people's necks to stand up, and I'd always thought it was a myth, just some melodramatic nonsense. But now, I found that the hairs on the back of my own neck were urgently standing to attention.

It was as if prison officer Bella Donna had set off some kind of ... motion sensor, impossible-to-ignore deafening klaxon alarm inside my head, urgently alerting me to the highly perilous nearness of some dire threat.

And prison officer Billie Jo was the same.

It was obvious. I had never been so certain of anything in my life. Prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were both cast from the same mould - or from the same mouldy DNA: Their double-helix, heinously configured; their chromosomes, chronically corrupted ... Two peas, from the same rotten pod.

And a second impossible-to-ignore, deafening klaxon alarm was going off inside my head, urgently resounding and reverberating another dire warning.

Looking at the pair of them, I immediately felt a gnawing apprehension. Holding eye contact with them, definitely not a good idea.

And, with their militarist-helmet like concave bob hairstyle, they were even more affecting, even more unsettling - even more frightening.

Prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were both in their early twenties, only a couple of years older than me.

I'd heard it said that beauty is only skin deep ... and now, just like the hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck thing, to my acute discomfort I was also finding out that this was no myth, no melodramatic nonsense, either.

Bella Donna was very attractive. And, If you could see beyond the decidedly off-putting prison officer's concave bob hairstyle - which, in her case, I definitely could - then you really had something to look at. She was stunning: platinum-blonde, blue-eyed, and her peaches and cream complexion was lightly suntanned. She was about five foot nine and slim, but curvaceous-figured. And, if she had million-dollar legs, well, I can only say you'd be getting them cheap at the price. But, these admittedly alluring attributes, sensational as they were, were no kind of counterbalancing recompense for her manifestly deleterious downside ... and, with Bella Donna, the downside usually won out.