"Rachel Andrews," the guard called my name from behind the security desk.
I stood and glanced at the large mirror in front of me. Pulling my white long-sleeved shirt taut and adjusting my beige skirt, I walked around the other men and women sitting in the waiting area for their turn. I didn't know if they were all applying to be volunteer teachers at this maximum security prison like I was, but I hoped at least a few of them were. I was nervous and didn't want to be the only one going through this process. I had never been in trouble once in my life--not even a parking ticket--so stepping inside a prison was a terrifying experience for a private school teacher such as myself.
"Rachel Andrews?" the guard repeated when I stepped forward.
"Yes, um, hi. That's me," I smiled and waved awkwardly.
The guard's eyes looked me up and down, which I thought was rude, but then used the butt of his pen to point over his shoulder, "Go ahead."
I followed directions and stepped around the security desk, following the hallway to the metal detector. I was supposed to have an informal interview with one of the supervisors there and then receive a brief tour. I figured once I was familiar with the prison, my nerves would dampen. All the bad men were locked up, after all. Nothing could happen to me while I had all the correction guards at my side.
I brushed my long blonde hair over one shoulder and nervously ran my fingers through it. As I approached the short line of people queuing for the metal detector, I read the rules in bold black print on a white sign:
'Rule 1: No guns, knives, pepper-spray, or any other weapons on prison grounds.
Rule 2: No alcohol, tobacco, marijuana, or any other drugs on prison grounds.
Rule 3: All volunteers must produce a valid state-issued photo ID upon entering the building.
Rule 4: All volunteers must register at the front desk.
Rule 5: All volunteers must produce a signed copy of the prison-volunteer form.
Rule 6: All volunteers are issued a prison-volunteer pass that must be displayed at all times."
Rule 7: All volunteers must pass through a metal detector. Women are advised to not wear bras with underwire as this may set off the detector and result in a strip search.'
Shit! Rachel...
Panic flooded my body as I realized I wore a bra with an underwire.
How could I be so dumb, of course I'm going to go through a metal detector!
Those in front of me went through the machine without issue, and then my turn came. I approached the scanner and winced as I walked through. Sure enough...
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The guard eyed me sternly. "Do you have any metal on your person?"
I made a face begging for sympathy as I leaned forward to whisper, "I think my bra has an underwire--I'm so so sorry."
The guard looked down at my large breasts that were hugged tightly by my sweater, then looked back at me.
"Derek," the guard called over his shoulder.
"Yeah?" a man replied from a back office.
"We got another one," the guard said and looked on to the next person approaching the metal detectors.
A few seconds later, a young man came to the office entrance. Derek was tall with short brown hair, a well-groomed five o'clock shadow, and broad shoulders that filled out his correction officer uniform. He smiled approvingly at the sight of me, and I couldn't help but blush. The young man was easily fifteen years my junior as I was pushing forty years old, and yet I could tell the handsome boy was ogling my body. A middle-aged woman had to take her compliments where she could.
"Right this way," Derek said, nodding me back into his office. I followed him, and he closed the office door behind me. "My name's Officer Cross, and you?"
"Um, Rachel Andrews," I spoke nervously. To my surprise, the office was large, more like a conference room and dimly lit. In fact no lights were on in the room. The ambient light came from a one-way mirror that viewed the waiting room I was just in.
He was watching us the whole time through the mirror.
"Right, Ms. Andrews--"
"Mrs. Andrews, sorry," I smiled, apologizing after correcting the young man. It was about this time I realized the guard's pants were unzipped and straightened a little.
"Of course, Mrs. Andrews." Derek flashed a bright smile and gestured to the large diamond ring on her left hand. You told my colleague you're wearing a bra with an underwire. Is that correct?"
"Yes, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize--"
Derek held up a hand as half sat on the edge of the desk, smiling at me. "No worries, but we do have to do a pat down, search, potentially a strip search, and perhaps more."
"Is that really necessary? I mean, I'm a high school teacher with a Master's degree in English, and I teach at a prestigious private school. I'd never do anything illegal or bring anything in."
"We've had a huge problem of unlikely people bringing in paraphernalia as of late, so yes, it is necessary. Unfortunately, we do not have a female guard working so if you wish to enter today, you'll have to be okay with me performing this search."
Shock surely covered my face as I felt my heart clench in my chest with disbelief.
A strip search done by a man? Surely, he can't be serious. This is outrageous!
"Um, I-I don't know..." I stammered.
Derek shrugged, "You can always reschedule your appointment."
I nodded in thought and glanced twice more at his unzipped pants. To my surprise, once the shock of the proposition wore off, something of a thrill sparked inside me. My marriage's sex life had been a timid thing for the first five years and next to non-existent for the last seven. I swear if it wasn't for wands and batteries, I wouldn't have survived to middle age. But the thought of having this young man put his hands on me... Not only was kinda hot, but it also felt like a loophole.
It's not cheating, right? It's just the law.
"Uh, okay. Sure," I finally replied.
Derek smiled and guided me over to the one-way mirror. On the floor in front of the mirror were four Xs taped to the floor in red electrical tape. Derek pointed to the two in the center and said to stand on the while putting my hands on the glass. I followed instructions and felt strange seeing the dozens of people sat in the waiting area staring at me. Of course, they all couldn't see me but it still felt odd.
Derek's pat down began professionally enough. He put on two black gloves and rubbed over my shoulders and down my right arm to my wrist and then my left. His hand was strong and firm but his grip didn't hurt. When his hands went down my back, I couldn't help but pop my round ass a little bit--kinda like I was showing off I guess, but he stopped just shy of my butt cheeks. I felt his fingers rub around my waistline to the front and begin to rub up my taut belly. Rising up higher and higher until he cupped my breasts.
"Ohmm..." I gasped and quickly forced my lips closed to avoid any further embarrassment. His hands squeezed both of my breasts, then lifted and fingered in between them for several seconds.
Satisfied with what he felt, his hands came back around and continued their way down my ass. My head was levitating as he rubbed down my thighs and then back up. I had a slight panic as he rubbed back up my inner thigh--worried he wouldn't stop, but at the last second, he pulled away.
Releasing the breath I held in, I stood straight and turned around. Trying to get the pink out of my cheeks, I smiled sheepishly at Derek. "All set?" I asked.
Derek made a face and shook his head. "I don't think so. The problem with underwires is that it's easy to conceal things in them. I'm afraid we'll have to continue to the strip search."
"What?" the color finally left my face as I wondered if I should text my husband first to ask for permission.
"Is that a problem?" Derek asked. The boyish niceness in his voice was gone, and an annoyance became more prevalent.
"N-No, um, okay. W-What do I do then?" I mumbled, losing my self-assurance.
"Stand here again," he ordered and pointed to the Xs on the floor.
"Okay, do you want me to take my clothes off or--"
"Did I tell you take your clothes off?" he asked in a stern tone.
"No, I'm sorry, I just thought--"
"Okay, I need you to just do what you said during this security search. I've found knives and guns before. This can be very dangerous, do you understand?" he barked, shrinking me into a cowering ball.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered.
"Stand here."
I moved to the same Xs and felt Officer Cross step behind me. His hand grabbed at the bottom of my sweater and roughly pulled it off of me, and suddenly I stood before the one-way mirror with dozens of people staring in my direction, and I was not wearing any top except my bra with an underwire. For a brief moment, my arms were crossed over my chest protectively, but Officer Cross pulled them away.
"Put your hands on your head and don't move them, do you understand?" he ordered into my ear.
