Candace undid two more buttons in the waiting room. She had fastened her shirt for decency to pass through security without an argument, but learning the routine yesterday she could approach the window without another inspection and she wanted Derek to scope her cleavage and the sides of her tits. A bit of flesh and glossy red lipstick is like a treat to keep him alive and motivated.
Number 8 flashed on the screen and Candace jumped from her chair to trek down the narrow hallway to window number 8. Number 2 looked to be two brothers having an argument. Number 3 a woman on the outside crying and ruining her eye liner. Number 5 an older man, maybe a dad counseling his son. Number 6 a mom and two small children who wouldn't sit in her lap while she talked to daddy.
Candace didn't like having other people's kids close to her while she talked to Derek. They weren't supposed to have kids under 12. She exhaled gruffly that no one follows the rules clearly printed on the signs!
As Candace sat in the chair before the glass and waited for Derek, she rested one hand on the phone. Derek came running up to the glass adjusting his shirt like he was hot to get out of it. Derek looked so full of hope. He sat cockeyed in the chair, pushed his hair back with both hands, moving constantly like he was on meds, and slapped his palm up against the glass slightly off-center between them.
Candace looked at his palm, fingers splayed to eight inches, the only stable part of his body. She kissed her index finger and pressed it against the glass next to his hand. Derek furrowed his brow and slapped his palm against the glass again, splaying his fingers where his index finger would match hers. Candace let her fingers creep out on the glass almost matching Derek's but not entirely flat.
Derek lifted the handset from the wall with his other hand and his right still flat on the glass. Candace let her hand fall to her lap as she lifted her handset.
"Why is it taking forever?" Derek asked.
"We're working on it," Candace tried to calm him down. "Don't you talk to your lawyer?"
"She's worthless. She bangs me over and over about accepting a plea."
"Do you think that's smart?" Candace asked. Her smirk was decidedly negative but left Derek unsure of her intent. "Does the lady lawyer tease a young stud like you with a little leg?"
"Why don't you pay the bail?" Derek demanded. "Get $5000 out of the checking account and pay it!"
"That's a lot of money," Candace complained. "We're talking it over, the best way to do it, while we're getting it together."
"Are you frickin' kidding me?" Derek snapped back, the first time he pulled his hand from the glass. He said, "You don't seem to love me."
"I do. I do love you."
"You don't seem to love me much," he repeated and shook his head.
"I do love you for some reason," Candace told him in a low voice. "That's why I'm here and working on ways to create a happiness for you. It would have been easy to stay away after you let me down. Again." Candace made the same smirk and Derek felt sure she had meant something more.
"And what?" Derek demanded. "You're deliberately not going to pay the bail?"
"Don't give me the crazy eyes," Candace scolded him. Derek did not soften his stance. "I hope you're not doing that inside to the guards. I hope you didn't take your mug shot with crazy eyes and your face all full of hate. Don't let the judge see all the confrontation or you'll never get out of here."
Derek tried to relax and he gripped his left hand over his right fist on the table, the phone wedged against his ear by his shoulder. "When will you pay the bail?"
Candace paused, considering whether Derek was sufficiently subdued. "Well, we're talking it over, the best way to do that."
"We, we, we," Derek shook his head. "What is this 'WE' stuff?"
"Yes, we," Candace stared at him.
"Who is we?"
"Well, Tyrone."
Derek stared at her. "Ty...what the...who the fuck is Tyrone?"
"Derek!" Candace scolded him. "You can't curse like that or they'll cut off the visitation rights." Candace unbuttoned another button until the top of her bra was visible. She wore a low cut bra that barely creased the top of her nipples.
"Oh, are you doing that for me?" Derek seemed agitated. "You can flash me and then snap because I used a word?"
"There's not a whole lot they can do to me," Candace quipped and let her eyes roll around like yo-yo's. "They can cut off my visitation or give me dirty looks as I leave. You, on the other hand. They can take away your crackers or your right to take a shower or make you shower with Bubba. They can make your life a living hell. Let's not kid ourselves. They will do it. They will teach you to follow the rules because you won't learn from the judge."
Derek heard her words but he was not listening. "Who is Tyrone?"
"Well, Tyrone is a man who takes care of me because as we know, you're not able to take care of me."
"Is that right?" Derek sat back and looked at her face, trying to understand if she's the woman he married.
"Yes, that's right," Candace nodded with a cutesy smile. "He protects me and buys me things and plays with the children and takes care of my deeper needs as a woman." Candace pulled her shirt open on the left and her fingers ran over that nipple in her bra. Her nipple was plump and hard and clearly visible through the thin transparent material as Candace pinched it momentarily between her fingers. Then she yanked her shirt closed to where the bra was barely showing.
Derek stared at her and considered how fucked he was behind the glass. The anger burst inside him like a geyser and he started to lift from his chair toward her at the glass.
"Careful!" Candace demanded. Candace cupped her hand on the phone. "Down boy. Don't you see the little children playing next to you?" Candace flashed her left tit at him again, which the kids would not see because of the wooden dividers for each station. The other inmate at Number 6 might enjoy a flash if he spied closely.
"This Tyrone," Derek scowled. "He's a black man?"
"It just so happens that he is black," Candace divulged. "Now don't get all prejudiced on me, the way you tell stupid jokes with your beer bro's and stuff. Your beer bro's don't have $5000, do they, since they always hit you up for a six pack?"
"That had some special attraction to you," Derek jeered. "You went out of your way to find a black man to torment me as I'm in the cage and can't do anything about it."
"No, not really," Candace discouraged it wryly. "Let me give you a simple illustration. I spread my hand on the glass here and my fingers stretch six inches and that's a lot like you.
You stretch your hand on the glass and that's eight inches and, well, Tyrone's a lot bigger than that." Candace stood up part way and shook her hips side to side in the mid-length skirt that extended down to her knees and not immodest as she lifted it marginally with her hand sweeping up her thigh and over her pelvis. But security might object if they saw her face, eyes half closed and lids fluttering, mouth hanging half open in a silent moan as if Tyrone just made her cum.
Derek was angry. He knew he was angry. He couldn't do much about Candace at the moment. His mind jumped from thoughts of hitting her to thoughts about the bail. "I'm going to ask my sister," Derek snapped through the phone. "I'm going to ask Linda for the $5000."
"Good luck with that," Candace laughed. "It's a good time to tell you, I mean, Tyrone and Linda and Alex, your brother-in-law, they all agreed I could tell you how Linda introduced me to Tyrone."
"What the fu..."
"Watch yourself!" Candace cut him off, saved him really from making a scene. She clicked her extended fingers together as scissors to emphasize this.
Derek restarted in a low voice, "What do you mean by that? How is Linda connected with Tyrone?"
"This is how it happens," Candace explained to him. "Gifts don't fall out of the sky. One woman who solved her medical problem helps another woman in need. A hundred years ago, a woman would see the doctor about her anxiety and he'd relieve her with a dildo or all kinds of devices and she'd be cured for a month. Do you think our condition has changed? Except for, you know, the month thing."
"I don't have a clue what you're talking about," Derek growled.