Lowdown on Sex in a Womens Prison Part Two

The Low Down on Prison Sex Part Two

The Low Down on Prison Sex

Part Two

Day 91

(Please read Part One)

Sitting with the group of women at the dayroom table I now understood where women inmates had sex, but I still wondered about logistics: how were more of them not caught in the act?

“The only way to have a decent booty call is for someone to count jigs,”  said Twin Two.

“Counting jigs?” I asked.

“It’s kinda a three-way,” Lala said. “Someone stands watch outside the shower, or the broom closet while we knock it out. The girl might be pretending to wash the outside of the shower or load supplies on the janitor cart outside the broom closet.” Lala turned to the girls, “You know they’re gonna watch.” The Twins smirked. Maybe that was a part of the play.

Gay for the Stay, Straight at the Gate

“It’s obvious to anyone in the room what’s goin’ on behind that door. Sometimes I think the cops know but they just don’t want to hassle with the paperwork,” said Leaning Girl. “Sex in prison is just sex,” she shrugged. “The varieties are all over the map.” Lala nodded to The Twins, “You got your lipstick lesbians to full-blown dykes. Gay for the stay, straight at the gate, queer for a year, playin’ house in the Big House, you never know who’s jumpin’ in.”

“Everybody I know from the outside wants the scoop,” said Lala. “They ask if there is a lot of girl-girl action with the wiggly eyebrows. They want the raunchy facts, but mostly, they want to know if I have started playing for the other team.”

Line movement occurred, and just as abruptly as the conversation began, it ended, our “free” time linked to the opening and closing of doors. We quickly gathered ourselves up, meeting adjourned. I went to the cell and wrote down our conversation. Later, I told them I was writing, that I was trying to make sense of our prison lifestyle and all the layers of punishment.

“Fine with me,” said Lala. Someone’s got to make sense of this.”

That Night in My Cell

That night in my cell, I thought about the first days and weeks of my fall. Human frailty is dire in such circumstances. Life occurs hour by hour, day to day. For me, it felt as though I was strictly surviving. Somehow my body breathed, I ate. My daily walk became obedient numbness. I no longer felt the stronger aspects of my personality, I shuffled around the cops, overly apologetic. I feared making a connection with the other women inmates; I missed my family.

I woke up, went to work, called my family. It took such an effort to do so little. My mojo was most definitely not working. Sex was the last thing on my mind.

But Underneath the Bravado

But the Twins, Lala and Leaning Girl were in their late teens and twenties. The nasally, bored DOC instruction for “delayed gratification, girls” is a tough sell for the young and hormonal. They want to feel desirable and act on the cravings of a young body in it’s prime. They shared their stories and bantered back and forth lightheartedly. But underneath the bravado, I knew they were lonely and craved touch and comfort. I admired them. In whatever form, it took courage to hold onto the joys of the human experience and the willingness to love in return.

Lowdown on Sex in a Womens Prison Part Two

Lowdown on Sex in a Womens Prison Part Two

The Low Down on Prison Sex

Karen Campbell Writes

The Low Down on Prison Sex, Part One

The Low Down on Prison Sex

Part One

Day 90

Though I heard a lot about prison sex, I didn’t witness it until one morning when I walked into the exercise room. A young woman was leaning against the wall on the same side of the door, just to my left. I saw it all in an instant. The woman on the wall had her red shorts down around her ankles, her palms were flat on the wall. Her eyes were closed, her face in strained in pleasure. Lala, my former co-worker from the kitchen, was kneeling on the floor in front of her. Her face partially hidden by the woman’s thighs. Sex, they’re having sex! My tennis shoe squeaked as I spun around. I bumbled the exit, banging my water pitcher on the door jam. I glanced back at Lala, who looked amused.

Karen Campbell WritesI scuttled off to a corner of the dayroom, like a bee looking for an exit. Sorry, ladies! I was prickly hot and felt the rush of adrenaline. I heard the gossip, I knew it went on. I just didn’t know where. How do they get away with it? Where do they go with the cameras are everywhere? I thought of those two girls. Both mentioned men in their lives, one was a mother. Are they gay now?

Later that day, I decided I should say something, apologize. After all, we lived in the same living room. I saw that Lala was by herself at a dayroom table, so I walked over. I was embarrassed that I witnessed their tryst but certainly not judgmental. I thought about how sterile our lives were inside: no hugging, no touching, not even a soothing circle or pat on the back.

“Hey, Lala, sorry about the cunnilingus interruptus.”

“Dude, you totally fucked that up.” She laughed, she didn’t seem mad about it. “You should have seen your face.”

“I’ll look next time before I go in.”

“You can’t see that wall from the outside but don’t go blabbin’ it around. That wall is my secret spot. It’s hard enough to get the deal done in here,” she said.

I was breaking a rule by standing in place in the dayroom so I sat down. Three other women joined us, one was the girl leaning on the wall, the other two were a known couple they called The Twins. The Twins were both very attractive with long hair that they took their time to style like the movie stars in the torn up magazines from the library. They made an attempt with canteen make-up. They were always together.

“Hey, sorry I walked in on you guys,” I said to the girl who had been leaning on the wall.

“At least it wasn’t a cop,” she answered.

“Oh, did you guys get caught?” giggled Twin One. “Where were you?” I looked at Lala and she gave me the “keep your trap shut” eyes.

“Oh, same ol’ place,” shrugged Lala. “We were hoping for a quickie.” She turned to Leaning Girl with teasing eyes.

“You gotta be quick, no foreplay. It takes all the spontaneity out of it,” said Twin One. “You can’t just fuck for as long as you want, you know? We always have to plan it out. It used to be really hot, wondering if we were gonna get caught. Then I stopped coming,” she turned to Twin Two, “No offense.” Twin Two just shrugged and made a little nod.

“So,” I leaned forward and whispered, “Where do you do this?” I was curious but also sounded like a tabloid reporter. I covered with, “How can I avoid walking in on you guys?”

“Where? Let’s see,” said Lala. “The showers, janitor closet, toilet stalls, all over the kitchen.”

“Cell sanitation,” said Twin Two. “We got it down, in and out of a cell in five minutes.”

“If I have sex in the shower, I see it as a two-fer, clean up and get laid,” Lala slapped her hand on the table and laughed.

“There’s always church,” said Leaning Girl. They all laughed but I didn’t. It reminded me of my first celly, caught fondling in the back pews months ago. She was sent to the Hole. 

“So why do they care? You’re not hurting anyone,” I asked.

“It ends up being a reason for fighting. Most of the worst fighting in here is because of jealousy,” said Twin One. I remembered the brutality and carnage of a fight I witnessed in my early days. It still made me shudder.

“Look, I’m only twenty-four. I got a lot of time” said Twin Two, “I just want to have sex while I still look good doing it.” Both twins laughed, but the laughter was cut short, perhaps from raw emotion. How old would she be when she got out? As old as I am now? 

“I do it to feel sexy,” she turned and looked at Twin One, “I want to have someone to put lipstick on for.”

“My family won’t have anything to do with me,” Twin One said. “If I have someone in here, I can make it.” She looked at Twin Two, “We do everything together. It feels like I am not alone.” These women were refreshingly honest about their challenging relationship and I began to understand it was far more than sex.

The Low Down on Prison Sex

The Low Down on Prison Sex