After we sign in, we go through security. Now this is the shit I really hate—the fucking pat-downs! The security here has been tighter over the last several months. Jasper was telling me how there’s been a lot of drugs being smuggled up in here, and how the CO’s have been running down on them with the dogs and whatnot. Still, what this ho is doing doesn’t feel right. Hell, it isn’t right! It feels more like a grab-down the way this mannish, manhandling bitch is grabbing at my goddamn titties! I know the frisks are to make sure no one’s bringing in contraband—like so many dumb-ass bitches do, but this he-man bitch right here is taking it a bit too far if you ask me. It’s almost like the freaky bitch is trying to get her rocks off. I want to scream on her black ass. But I keep my mouth shut ’cause I’m not trying to have her cancel my visit. Like she did a few weeks ago to this chick—who, by the way, takes two buses and a train, then walks from the train station to get here—because she said something slick to her about the way she was grabbing her up. I felt so bad for her.
Anyway, after the frisking, we finally get to the visiting area and find a table facing the door that the inmates come out of so that Jasper can see us as soon as he walks out. I scan the room, looking at all these Bama-fied bitches in their late wears, some of them carrying snotty-nosed babies, dragging loud-ass toddlers, or both. There’s a sprinkle of decent-looking chicks with some cute kids here. And you can tell they have good home training. Then there are the mules, the bitches smuggling in the damn drugs, stuffing them in their pussies, all in the name of love—and in the promise of a life with their men beyond these walls. Promises that’ll be broken the minute the nigga touches down.
The more I look around the room, the more disgusted I feel myself becoming. I am so sick of this shit! Some of these chicks look so comfortable and happy and excited being here. And here I am, sitting here—in my designer wear and bling—feeling so out of place. This whole prison shit is depressing.
“Yo, I’ma hit the bathroom,” Stax says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You want something outta the vending machine while I’m up?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” I watch him walk toward the men’s room, then glance down at my watch. We’ve been here for almost ten minutes already. Five minutes later, the first batch of inmates are coming out. I keep my eye on the door, waiting. Then scan the room, turning my lips up as two female CO’s walk in. Jasper had pointed them out a few months ago, telling me how they were both fucking inmates here. Hmmph. Nasty bitches! How the hell you gonna be fucking on the job? Yeah, I’m doing what I’m doing, but I’m not jeopardizing my damn career and livelihood behind it. I’ve heard over the years how some chicks have gotten caught up in a bunch of bullshit over some jailhouse cock.
Ten minutes later, another batch is coming through the door. Jasper is the fourth one to enter. Even in his prison-issued khakis, he’s still a sexy motherfucker! He quickly scans the room looking for me. I smile, standing up. His face lights up as he smiles back at me. I admire him as he makes his way over to me. His swagger is so damn thuggish and sexy. I feel my pussy clenching and unclenching as I stare at the imprint of his dick.
“Damn, baby, you look good as hell,” he says, sweeping me up in his arms before quickly kissing me on the lips, then sliding his tongue in my mouth. His kiss is deep and passionate, and in that brief moment, filled with an overwhelming love. We don’t linger too long ’cause the CO’s will get on their bullshit. He takes a seat next to me.
“Yo, where’s Stax?” he asks, looking around the visiting area. I tell him he went to the bathroom. “Oh, aiight. So how you?”
“I’m good. And you?”
“Better now,” he says, wrapping an arm around me, pulling me into him. He kisses me on the side of the head. “I miss you, girl.”
“I was just here last week,” I say playfully. I peep Stax over by the vending machine talking to some chick. From where I’m sitting she looks like she might be a pretty chick. I point over in his direction. “There he is over there.”
“Yeah, I see him,” he says, looking over there, then bringing his attention back to me. “Aye, yo, don’t start ya bullshit, ya heard?”
I frown. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“Don’t think I didn’t peep that slick lil’ comment you made. So what if you were here last week? What that gotta do with me missin’ you?” He stares at me hard, searching my eyes for something—lies, maybe.
“Nothing,” I tell him, staring back at him, smiling. “I miss you, too.”
“Oh, aiight. You better. Damn, you smell good. What’s that you have on?” I tell him it’s Euphoria by Calvin Klein. “Oh, word? That shit’s makin’ my dick hard.”
I smile. “Nigga, your dick stays hard.”
“Damn straight, baby; rock-solid. You keep a nigga horny wit’ ya sexy ass.” He leans over on me and whispers. “Put ya hand under the table, and play wit’ my dick.”
I suck my teeth, rolling my eyes. Then quickly search the area to see where all the CO’s are. They all seem preoccupied so I slide my hand over into his lap and rub the bulge that’s pressed against the inner part of his thigh. The mouth of my pussy instantly starts to pucker. I feel my juices slowly stirring inside of me.
“You like that shit, don’t you?” he asks in a low voice. I nod, keeping my eyes locked on all the CO’s. He brushes his lips to my ear and whispers, “I wish I could fuck you right here on this table. I want some pussy so bad.”
His warm breath causes my skin to tingle. And for a split second I almost forget where I am and close my eyes, imagining myself spread out on the table, ass up, being deliciously fucked deep from the back. “My pussy’s getting wet,” I tell him; glad I wore a panty liner, otherwise I’d end up having a bad case of sticky drawers. I remove my hand when a young girl and an elderly woman walk toward us and sit at a table next to us. “Party’s over.”
He sucks his teeth. “Yeah, and my muhfuckin’ dick’s ready to bust out these fuckin’ pants. You got my balls bubblin’ ’n shit.” I laugh. “Shit ain’t funny. But it’s all good. I’ma beat that ass up as soon as I get to the halfway house. The minute I get a furlough, it’s on, baby.”
“I can’t wait. When are you supposed to be leaving?”
“I’m just waiting, baby. It should be any minute.” Yeah, okay, I think, glancing around the visiting area. He’s talking prison lingo ’cause, in my mind, “any minute” is literally that. But in prison, the shit could mean weeks…shit, months! I want to ask him to be a little more specific, but decide against it.
Out of nowhere he tells me he wants to set a wedding date. Tells me he’s tired of waiting. That he wants to wife me—now. I tell him we should wait until he’s done with the halfway house. He’s not trying to hear it.
He shoots me a look. “Yeah, well, I don’t wanna wait that long. I wanna marry ya fine ass today, aiight?”
I smile. “I know you do. And I feel the same way. But I don’t want to half step either. When I go down that aisle with you, it will be the first and only time for me, so I want it to be right. It has to be fly and fabulous.”
“I hear you, baby. You’ll have it no other way, but I don’t need all that fancy shit. We can shoot down to city hall…”
I roll my eyes, sucking my teeth. “Ooooh goodie,” I say sarcastically, “then head on over to Red Lobster or Cracker Barrel for the reception.”
He laughs. “Whatever, man. Set the damn date already. And stop draggin’ ya damn heels.”
“I’m not,” I say as Stax comes back over to the table with a handful of junk food and two orange sodas. Jasper gets up as he places his chips and whatnot on table.
“Yo, son, what’s good wit’ you?” They embrace.
“Shit. Wassup wit’ you?”
“I’m in prison, nigga.” Jasper laughs. “What the fuck ya dumb-ass think is up with me? I’m jailin’, nigga. I swear…ya moms musta dropped you on that big-ass dome of yours when you were a baby.”
They both laugh, sitting down. “Yo, fuck you, biscuit head.”
“Nigga, I know you ain’t talkin’ with that Herman the Munster forehead of yours.”
They bullshit back and forth for a while before Jasper asks him who was the chick he was talking to. “Oh, that’s Peanut’s sister.” I see Jasper make a face like he’s trying to picture her in his mind.
“Oh, word? Which one?”
“The youngest one.” I’m not sure who they’re talking about. Nor do I care. So I get up and excuse myself. Tell him I’m going to the bathroom. I walk off, but the whole time I’m walking, I can feel Jasper watching me. I bet if I turn around right now, he’ll be eyeing me like a hawk. This nigga doesn’t miss a beat. And he’s going to be up on any other nigga trying to check for me on the sly. I smile, shaking my head.
When I finish using the bathroom and start walking back toward the table, I can see Jasper has his forearms resting up on the table and he’s leaning forward as if he and Stax are in a deep conversation. When he sees me walking toward them, he sits back in his chair and smiles. And that gesture alone leads me to believe they were either talking about me, or discussing some shit they don’t want me to know. The question is: about what?
I take my seat next to Jasper and he immediately wraps his arm around my waist and kisses me again. “What’s that for?” I ask, almost paranoid.
“Oh, so now I need a reason to kiss you?”
“Not at all,” I say, forcing a smile. This time I kiss him lightly on the lips.
He smiles at me, then looks at Stax. “Yo, man, I love this damn girl right here, you feel me?”
Stax grins, rubbing his chin. “That’s wassup. It’s the kinda love a nigga kills for.” I shift my eyes from Stax, who sneaks a look at me. There’s something in the way he says this that makes me uncomfortable.
Jasper gives him some dap. “No doubt. You already know, son.”
They shift the conversation to their family, with Stax giving him the goings-on with everyone. I tune the discussion out, sweeping my eyes around the room. I fix my gaze over at a chick sitting at the table on the right side of us with her hands under the table, rapidly jerking off her man. I smirk, wondering what she’ll do with his nut once he busts in her hand. Will she discreetly lick her palm and fingers? Or will she waste all that cream and wipe it off in a napkin? I imagine myself under the table, lapping at his balls while she’s jacking him off. The thought causes my mouth to water.
“Aye, yo, what you over there thinkin’ ’bout?” Jasper asks, bumping his shoulder into me. “You look deep in thought.”
“You,” I tell him, turning my attention to him.
He grins. “Yeah, you better be.”
I start to say something slick, but don’t. Instead, I shake my head, smiling. And for the rest of the visit we talk about the salon, the halfway house and the wedding. When the CO’s announce that the visit is over, we get up and say our goodbyes. Jasper kisses me deeply, then squeezes my ass on the sly. Then he and Stax hug and give each other dap.
“Yo, man, keep an eye on her,” he says to Stax.
Stax laughs. “I got you, son.”
“Oh, please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Both of you can go to hell.” They laugh. Jasper grabs me by the waist and kisses me again.
“I love you, girl.”
“I love you, too.”
He gives Stax another hug, then gives me another long, deep kiss before walking off to go back to his life behind the wall.