“Tell my Dad thanks. But I need to stay here.” He stood, pumped my hand a single time, then shook his head as I turned away. And just like that I committed to finishing the rest of my sentence.
6.
I returned to the hospital unit and once I had the German screw sign me back in, headed to the laundry room to grab the mop and bucket. I was overdue to clean out the rest of the cells along the East wing, 8 rooms needing my sanitary touch of cleanliness. There was a bit of a skip in my walk as I went, one that was about to get a real boost.
7.
The laundry room was around the back of the far corridor, past a bunch of doors that held the kitchen, tea room and toilets. It was a quiet part of the unit at the best of times, only visited by those needing a bathroom break or coffee refill.
I walked past the closed doors, pushed open the laundry room and grabbed the bucket. After squeezing some floor cleaner in, I turned on the tap and began to fill it with hot water. I was whistling as the water poured into the bucket, loud enough to muffle the sound of the door opening behind me.
The first indication I had that I wasn’t alone was when a hand slid down the front of my pants. I hadn’t tied the string around my tracksuit pants, giving the squeezer easy access to my throne room. The hand almost reached the treasured jewels before I spun around and saw Officer Friendly less than two inches from my face.
She smiled briefly, pushed my hand away and grabbed hold of my dick, a tool untouched by anyone else’s hands for a very long time. Despite wanting to resist, there was little hope, the warm touch of her soft fingers already building the firmness up. When she dropped to her knees and began to suck with a slow rhythm, I knew I lost the battle.
She knew exactly what she was doing, her tongue working magic as the warmth engulfed me. Her blowjob was the best thing I’d had in years, my cum flowing in less than a minute. As much as I wanted to savour the moment, there was very little hope, Friendly’s hand virtually draining me as my knees threatened to buckle.
I looked down as she stared up at me, my dick still comfortably nestled between her lips. She gave it a final suck which sent shivers through me, stood and wiped her mouth on one of the towels sitting on the edge of the sink.
“Sorry, Dylan. No swallow today,” she said when she finished wiping. “Tasted good though.” And with that, she turned and left me with my dripping dick still hanging out, my shaking legs begging for reprieve. It was the first bit of sexual contact I had in years and it lasted all of 40 seconds.
It may not have been a candle-lit dinner and a bottle of wine. But that moment in the laundry room had been one of the most erotic of my life. I won’t lie to you, I relived it later that night in my cell, and not for the final time.
8.
I wanted San to understand my reasons for knocking back his offer first hand. I didn’t want him to misconstrue my objection and thus phoned him the first opportunity I had the following morning. Better to hear it from the horse’s mouth I figured.
There was no answer the first time I tried, nor the second a few minutes later. When I dialled his number for a third time, I saw both Frank and Nails standing on the top tier along the opposite wall to the bank of phones, watching me with shit-eating grins, the kind you knew meant trouble. I knew they were up to something but didn’t know what. But that wasn’t the day for me to find out their secret.
9.
“Up out of bed, turn around and put your hands on the window sill,” the voice said as the light flickered into life. I’d been in a deep sleep and my pillow felt wet beneath my face. “Moody, now.”
I tried to force my eyes open, looked out and saw night was still hanging outside my window. I peered back at the trap and saw a face peering in. It wasn’t one I recognized, possibly a new recruit. The Tactical Team always ran a unit ramp when a new intake of recruits was in training. A random unit was always chosen, usually early morning.
“NOW!” the voice spat through the trap and I slowly peeled the sheet back. The air was cold, almost enough to bite. There wasn’t a lot of heating in the units and cold nights called for extra clothing to be donned. It wasn’t that cold when I hopped into bed the previous night, thus remained in my jocks alone.
“Can I put some pants on?” I asked, but the door opened instead, one Tactical Uniform walked in followed by the voice that spoke to me. It was a young guy, eerily similar in looks to Sam Lester. The Tactical officer waved for the new recruit to take point as I turned and grabbed the window sill.
“Listen to this officer’s instructions,” the large lad said before stepping back and waving the fresh-faced screw forward. He looked paler than my bedsheet, maybe a few years older than me. He looked like one of those guys that was more in tune with a bank counter or some office job.
“Turn and face me.” I did, facing him with my hands by my side. With only my jocks on, there wasn’t a lot of instruction to follow. “Lose the underwear,” he said. I did
