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