/Bold sections are flashbacks
/Italic sections are letters/emphasis/notes
/I lost the first copy when the site crashed last night. Enjoy version two.
/I'll leave this pile of rocks here for eventual hurling at me.
/I didn't realize it cut off the first sentence till way later, but I fixed it. Sorry for the confusion.

"Piper, dear, dinner is ready. Are you still working on Popey's bank reconciliation?" The unexpected voice startled Piper from her reading.

She looked up from the pages on the table. "Uh..Yes... Yes I am."

"Can't you just purchase a program to do it for you? Mr. Petrova's kids are CPAs' and they just spend all their time on the computer. They hardly have to write at all these days!" Her mother stood in the door to the office. "I heard they aren't even teaching children cursive anymore in public schools." She knew what was coming next: the same lecture every single time she visited with her mother.

"You and Larry should consider starting your family before the education system degrades further. Pretty soon half of America will be raising illiterate children with the direction the school districts are heading!" So this was the angle she was taking this time. To hurry and procreate so that her grandchildren will be able to write in cursive. Very original.

"Mom, I'm fairly certain in another ten years cursive will still not be obsolete." Her mother went to open her mouth but she continued, "And if for some reason it is, if and when I decide to have children I will teach them."

"If and when," her mother practically scoffed. "Piper, it is much harder to conceive when you are in your late thirties."

"Thanks mom." Because she really needed to hear that. Again.

"Oh but it's true. You just don't have a lot of time to waste." Mrs. Chapman beaconed to her daughter, switching the tone of the conversation almost seamlessly. "Now come to dinner before the food gets cold."

L.I.W -

You can call me whatever you want, miss L.I.W. People normally just call me "ALLLEEXX..!" I'd have to say that one is definitely my favorite, hands down. Haha. And damn, I was really looking forward to a heated discussion concerning woman on woman intimacy and how much more exciting it can be compared to having some sweaty guy humping himself against you. Maybe another time.. when I don't have a Correctional Officer reading through the letter before sending it out.

They don't have drinking fountains here. You get a cup and water from a cooler in the cafeteria. Very classy, right? Speaking of class, there are not very many fights that break out. There was one I caught the tail-end of that was interesting, I guess. Two women were cat fighting over an ice cream cone. I mean like, full on: on the floor, biting, clawing, hair pulling, and slapping. I thought that sort of thing only happened in sleazy dive bars, of which I have seen my fair share. Litchfield proved me wrong.

I'm sure Christopher exists and that he and Morello were together at some point in time. The main question is whether he has actually waited. I overheard that Morello hasn't been able to contact him in weeks. Plus, he has never once visited. No one here has actually seen him. Anyway, you and Nichols are getting quite chummy. The midget talks about you a lot, did you know that? She told me about your business and I am glad it is going so well. A piece of advice, don't work so hard that you forget why you're doing it in the first place.

How did you end up switching from being a waitress to self-employment? Why did didn't you care about your waitressing job? Not that a waitressing job is one worth calling home about, no offense. I know, I know: this coming from a drug importer, right? But seriously, Nicky said that you both had similar parenting growing up and if that's the case I'm not surprised you were dissatisfied with the career choice. But showing up drunk every shift? That sounds like a bit much, for anybody. What was going on?

I am no longer as extroverted as Nichols currently is, but I do enjoy receiveing your letters, honestly. It is a nice change from the constant letters from my legal advisors. I just don't have as much time to write as Nichols does. The legal issues are.. well, issues. It's complicated and really I can't talk about it. It's not an appeal though. I wish it was that easy. I'm pretty sure that nothing as simple as an appeal would help me at this point. At least that is what I am being told. I probably won't be able to write back for a while again. Probably longer than usual but I really do not know. I haven't decided. Just in case, if you send anything direct it to Nicky. She'll hold onto things for me.

Thanks for the book. It reminded me of my own childhood which was actually just short of god-fucking-awful. But hey, it had a decent plot. You're right not to send Nicky smut. Her mind is salacious enough without the added help. Besides, I'm sure the COs will confiscate it. It will end up on someone's nightstand, sick fucks.

-Alex Vause #1975-0425
Federal Department of Corrections
900 Litchfield Avenue
Litchfield, New York 13357

Piper was practically floating on air. Today had been amazing, relaxing and just exactly everything she needed after months of being a workaholic hermit. Polly had given her the okay for taking the afternoon off. She attended The March on Fifth Avenue and then bought a couple trinkets at PrideFest. Seeing all the people there was liberating. The street was blanketed in rainbows and there was never a moment when laughter wasn't ringing through the air. Everyone was just so happy. So.. gay.

Piper perused the street stalls and bought a little rainbow Pride pin that she had clipped to her shirt. It was all about solidarity of course. While she was wandering among the stalls, one picture had caught her eye in particular. It showed a woman in an aquarium fill of murky water. It was titled "La Quiescenza del Seme" by Silvia Costa. There was just something about it that kept drawing her eye. Without thinking, Piper had been nearly ready to hand over her credit card when she suddenly realized that she would have to display it. One the wall. Around Larry. Her boyfriend wasn't much into art and she was almost positive that he wouldn't understand the meaning behind the photograph.

However, it turned out it was a good thing she didn't purchase the artwork. Carrying around a cumbersome package was no longer an issue and it freed her up for the "after-party." Attending the Dance on the Pier was something she had always wanted to do. Years ago she had intended to crash the dance but ended up staying at a bar with a few of her old waitressing co-workers and became entirely too intoxicated to go anywhere near the ocean. Not that being practically inebriated had stopped her from visiting the Oceanside before. She should have gone that year anyway because it was incredible. Today was incredible. Being around hundreds of other people that are so full of life and happiness just had a way of refreshing her. As if she was taking a breath of fresh air for the first time in months. Piper needed this.

Even the music was breathtaking. The musical performance on the pier had been done by Cher. Cher. There were hundreds upon hundreds of people there, ranging from the seasoned elderly to the doe-eyed finally-of-legal-drinking-age youngsters. Piper thought she might have even seen Whoopie Goldberg there, but she wasn't entirely sure. The group she had been dancing with had begun to migrate in a different direction so she wasn't able to see the woman's face clearly. Staying with the little group had been worth it though. They had thrown themselves around to the rhythm of the music for hours on end. When the dance officially ended at ten they were covered in sweat and still riding the high of their endorphins.

Practically skipping down the sidewalk, Piper was evidently still feeling a euphoric sense of freedom. It didn't even bother her that all the taxis' were busy carting home drunk and incapacitated college kids. It was a pleasantly warm night out and the walk only added to her carefree mood. Her life, in this moment, was perfect. She had gotten a letter from Alex the day before, gotten the afternoon off work, shopped for Pride trinkets, and danced to her heart's content along the pier. Now she could go home, take a steaming shower and curl up in her boyfriend's warm arms.

As she rounded the corner near Wells Fargo Bank Piper thought, This is life. This is what living really is. She hadn't felt this way since her post-college travel days with a specific brunette, whom which she was now forming a friendship with. That in itself was a miracle. Piper smiled to herself, completely caught up in her head. This was unequivocally the happiest she had been in years.

Dragging Piper from her thoughts, a slight pressure against the small of her back instantly turned the hair on the back of her neck on end. Something hard pressed up against her spine, causing a chill to tear through her body. Piper instinctively made to run but a rough hand clamped on her forearm. The heady smell of alcohol assaulted her nose as hot breath collided with her cheek. Dread saturated her every thought and she still had half a mind to politely ask to be released. Half a mind. The other half went into full-blown panic mode as the words "if you scream, I'll kill you" finally sunk into her adrenalin saturated brain.

Author's Note: So I was thinking about ending the story here. Not a bad spot, right?