The corridor where Sandra was lined up with her assigned clothes, bed sheets, towel, toothbrush and other assorted toiletries smelled vaguely of sweat and burned plastic. The sweat could be from the frizzy-haired older woman ahead of her in the line, but the burned plastic was still somewhat of a mystery. She desperately occupied her mind trying to account for the errant smell, because if she had to think about the situation she was in, she would break down in tears.
Sandra Hardington was in jail. The whole situation didn't feel quite real to the petite, 30′ish redhead. She couldn't believe how she had ended up here. It was just a little creative accounting. She manipulated a few numbers so she could have a nice little Christmas bonus. Granted, the bonus was almost 300 000 dollars, but still, it wasn't like she was a REAL criminal. No one had gotten hurt. The large corporation she worked for would hardly suffer because of it. So the six months at Penwood's Womens Penitentiary seemed like a cruel and unusual punishment.
She turned her head to take a peek at the woman directly behind her in the line. She saw a tall, well-muscled african-american woman who's bare arms were covered in tattoos. She had a red bandana on her head, short hair and her intense eyes seemed to be glued to Sandra's lower back. Sandra realized after a few seconds that the black woman was starting at her ass, and judging by the look on her face, she liked what she saw. The other woman seemed to sense that she was being watched, because she raised her eyes to meet Sandra's. A smile spread across the hardened face and she winked slyly at Sandra. Face burning, Sandra instantly whirled her head back. She heard a low chuckle from behind her.
"Oh god," she thought, "this can't be happening!".
Unfortunately, it was happening, and it got worse. After a short group meeting with the warden, she found herself in her spartan cell with her new cell mate; none other than the tattooed woman who checked her out in the line earlier. Sandra stood at the short end of the two story bed looking uncertainly at her surroundings and glancing occasionally at her cell mate. The other woman was just finishing putting her things at a little table in the middle of the cell and promptly turned around and looked at Sandra.
"My name is Nicole, but you will call me Nic. You got me?"
Sandra looked a little startled and started to reply, "I...", when Nic interrupted her.
"I said, you got me?". Sandra nodded.
"Alright then", Nic replied, climbed up on the top bunk and seemed to dismiss Sandra completely.
The rest of the day passed blissfully uneventful. The food at mealtime was bland and unappealing, but edible. She sat next to Nic in the mess hall, which the big woman didn't seem to mind. At night, she had laid in her bunk for hours in the darkness before the exhaustion finally overrode her worries and anxiety and she finally fell asleep.
The routine established itself in the next couple of weeks. Except for a few minor incidents, the horrors instilled in her imagination by countless prison movies never occurred and she started to relax a little. It was still a horrible experience, but she started to think that she might just get through it after all. Her cell mate, Nic, was domineering and a little standoffish, but she kept to herself most of the time and they just kept out of each others way as best they could in such a small space.
Then one night she woke up with a start when she felt a weight settle on top of her. In the darkness, she smelled the faint smell of the soap used by the inmates and a firm, heavy body pressing against her. She could make out the silhouette of Nic towering on top of her. She started to struggle, but the body on top of her quickly positioned itself so that she was completely pinned down.
She felt a warm breath on her ear as Nic whispered, "Don't fight it, sweet thing. I got an itch that I need scratched and you're going to do the scratching."
The breath disappeared from her ear and she felt a hot, wet sensation on her neck and a hand slowly travelling up her stomach and onto her chest.
"Oh yes," the voice moaned in her ear, "I've been dreaming about these tits ever since I first saw you..".
