"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."
