The Princesses and the "P"

Once upon a time, there was a warden in a woman's prison who was all alone in the world. She had once been a prostitute but turned that life around to work in the criminal system.

While her work was fulfilling, she was never really happy because she didn't have a girlfriend. What she really wanted, more than anything else in the world, was a girl who had also been a prostitute, because no one else would understand her.

One night a rather disheveled girl was brought into the prison. The warden could tell that she was a junkie, because of the hole in her arm.

"OK Junkie, get in here," said a guard roughly.

"I'm not a junkie, I'm a whore, and my name's Jane," she retorted.

"Whatever, bitch, get in here."

A whore? The warden looked at the girl. She was wearing torn jeans and a baggy T-shirt. No makeup, and sensible shoes. She was crying as well.

After dark, the warden opened her cell. "Junkie, huh?"

She shook her head violently. "No!"

"What's this then?" She turned the girl's arm over. As she did they looked into each other's eyes.

Her piercing green eyes screamed defiance. "That's not what it looks like."

"OK, so you aren't a junkie. You don't look much like any whore I've seen, though, and believe me, I have seen plenty," said the warden.

"I just do it for money," she muttered. "I like women better, anyway."

They looked at each other with longing, and then suddenly fell into each others' arms.

The next day, the warden was overcome with guilt. Sure, Jane claimed that she had been a prostitute, and she was good enough in bed for this to be true. But the warden was tired of shallow meaningless sex. She wanted a real relationship with a real whore.

So during the day, while the prisoners were eating, she went to an restaurant she once patronized as a call girl. In one of the bathroom stalls, someone etched with a knife "Slick Rick is da BOMB!" and his phone number. Using her cudgel, she broke the corner off of the graffitti.

She took the piece of stall with the number and stuck it under Jane's mattress. A true prostitute would be able to sense that number, even under the mattress, she thought.

After lunch, some of the prisoners - including Jane - went to take naps. The warden kept her eye on Jane till she awoke. Jane sat up in her bed and rubbed the side of her head. Then she noticed the warden hovering just out of sight.

"Hey!" she called out to her.

The warden approached. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing, huh? Not gonna talk to me anymore? Think I'm just a one-night stand?" she demanded.

"That's not what I think at all," she protested. "I think you're great. I was - just watching you sleep."

"Oh yeah?" She continued to rub her head. "Man, I just had one wacked-out dream."

"Really?"

"I think so. All these girls telling me I shouldn't work alone, I should get into Slick Rick's stable..." Jane trailed off. "Not like you know what I'm talking about."

The warden beamed. "I used to work for Slick Rick, too."

Jane eyes widened. "You?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Wow. A couple of ho's ending up here on opposite sides." She shook her head. "Who'd'a thunk."

"Well," said the warden, "you'll be out in a few months..."

"And we can live happily ever after!"

THE END