Today was the day that had finally come after all the painful months of day by day countdown, the middle aged woman thought as her eyes flickered open and she found herself lying in the narrow bunk in the whitewashed brick lines cell. Her name was Mel Bridges, one time aspiring rock star and this was Larkhall Prison. She'd lain frozen in time since she'd sent doqwn for the control and supply of class A drugs and to this day, she'd forgotten how she'd drifted into being a drugs baron. Somewhere out beyond the prison walls lay another world that had felt frozen in time since when she'd last known it. True, she'd watched the sporadic flow of communal television where Big Brother had given way to Jeremy Kyle but she only knew life as it cost to keep herself in food and drink back in 2003.
She got a little anxious when she considered that today she was due to gain her freedom as she'd got accustomed to rigid routines that controlled her life. That had seemed inconceivable a lifetime ago as her self-image was of a freewoman beholden to no one but she'd learned to accept her lot. It had included being woken up by cell call, morning showers, meals on time, handling the sparse allowance of weekly spends and now she was free to look after herself in the wide open world, the envy of other prisoners. Somehow, reversing the accustoming to discipline seemed scarier than she'd thought. Even though she'd looked after herself for years, it felt like a different lifetime ago, hopelessly unreal.
Mel finally thought of her sleeping arrangements as she looked down at the bunk beneath her. She'd easily seduced the yoyung innocent who'd recently replaced her second bed partner she'd shared cells with. The girl was a prostitute who was curiously carried away by their romance as sex with another woman opened up possibilities she'd not dreamed of. Mel was only too glad to play the role of the experienced older woman.
"You'll wait for me on the outside when I get out? It'll only be a couple of months. Bastard judge had it in for me or I'd be with you sooner," the girl asked anxiously as the sunlight woke her eyes. She'd been getting increasingly anxious as the days had marched forwards relentlessly to Mel's expected date of release. For all their months of closeness, she'd not been able to read the other woman's feelings on the matter but she presumed she'd be glad to be free. Such a prospect had cropped up from time to time amongst the old stagers but always sounded vague and unreal.
"Of course babes," Mel answered carelessly."I'll get a flat for us both ready for when you get out.I'll write to you for a VO, honest."
At that, a wide smile of reassurance spread across the girl's face. The moment of parting promised to be painful, perhaps more than she could bear. She'd felt so good about herself in all the past months away from the meat market outside and snuggled up next to her woman.
Over the past seven years since Mel had arrived, Larkhall Prison had gone through its successive changes. A number of the old stagers who'd been there since time immemorial like the two Julies and denny Blood had finally found their freedom and had pledged to settle down in the same neck of the woods. They'd been joined by Pat Kerrigan and Sheena Williams but a number of strong minded women who didn't see it as their life's duty to scratch each other's eyes out had taken up the slack. Joy Masterton had just about survived the scandals that Kristine Thorne's undercover work had brought to light but the fire had gone out of her bootcamp attitude and she was content to let the prison toddle along without rocking the boat, especially as Di Barker, Kevin Spiers and Sylvia Hollamby were all sacked.
That was the start of Lou Stoke coming to greater prominnce before she finally took over as Governing Governor when Joy Masterton wearily obtained early retirement. Today, she sat in her officeswearing at the world around her as the latest batch of e mails flooded in from the ether. The ones headed prison Service Reform Project encapsulated her real problems these days. These were overcrowding and the worry of the prison being privatised thanks to Neil Haughton's obsessive drive to please his political masters. She knew that maintenance and the kitchen service were ripe for being hived off, if not the whole shooting match.
"The prisoners aren't really a problem. They do what they have to do and everything depends on whether you handle them with a bit of nous especiaqlly as Buxton is out of the way," she said reflectively to herself, referring to the most dangerous woman who'd been transferred to a maximum security prison." The prison officers are a pretty good bunch. It's just top management and the bloody government that turn my hair grey," she muttered to herself as she turned her attention back to the computer screen with its unwelcome messages. She was highly conscious that there was a lot going on in the troubled political waters that she shielded from prisoners and prison officers alike.
The two women made for the early morning lukewarm shower in line with the queue of other women, emerging with dripping wet hair and encased in their dressing gowns. as they dressed quickly for morning breakfast of the usual sausages and fried egg. To mel, every movement felt strangely slow and deliberate as the dulling consequences of endlessly repeated routines were beginning to be stripped away. As they were eating breakfast, Mel figured that she'd need everything on her plate to sustain her till her next meal which would be at the hostel the prison services had arranged for her. She knew fior certain that the council house she'd lived in before she'd been imprisoned had long since been given up and it depressed her. She knew that the golden memories of her affair with Jo Mills, her friend from her schooldays and one off bandmate, would never return even though she knew she hadn't been entirely honest with deathly communication silence since her trial told her that Jo Mills had found a life away from her. Still, all that was left was her final performance, her parting bow which she'd negotiated. Ever since she was little, she'd always believed in making some kind of mark on life.
Colin Hedges strolled out onto the wing to be greeted with a murmured acknowledgement that could mean anything but, in his case, denoted respect. It wasn't that he was Principal Officer but that he'd remained the same sown to earth decent man that Nikki Wade had befrriended on her tour of inspection seven years previously. He'd floated the idea to the Wing Governor that Mel Bridges had suggested. While neither of them entirely trusted the soon to be ex-prisoner, they both thought it would be a nice gesture and that it would be a good performance, judging from the sprinkled notes of guitar strings they'd heard overr the years.
"Can I have your attention? Listen up everyone. The gov's agreed for a little treat after breakfast. Seeing as this is Mel Bridges' last day here, we thought it would cheer everyone up for her to play us a few songs before we send her on her way. Let's give her a hand," he announced in the rare break in the general conversation.
A scattering of applause rippled round the atrium as they relished the music more than the person. In Mel's head she was back where she needed to be, on stage before an adoring audience as she slung her guitar strap across her shoulders. True, her leather jacket was the worse for wear, the guitar strings were badly in need of replacement and her guitar was sadly unpolished and battered but her voice was as clear and true as it ever was. She found herself a place to lean back against the servery and started to tinkle a few introductory notes before launching into her first song, the atrium being a perfect echo chamber .
Colin had to hand it to Mel Bridges as her guitar framed perfectly her soft clear voice poured over the audience like golden honey, her worsds seeped into the hidden crevices of sensitivities amongst even the toughest of the women. One of them sat at the table, legs stretched out and arms folded but her eyes were wide open. Mel went through her repertoire of songs she'd built up over the years, leaving on one side songs that could only be performed by a three piece electric band. She was aware of the effect she was creating, particularly on her cellmate whose tears were coursing down her face. Halfway through her second song, she got up hurriedly and dashed to the washroom area while Mel carried on singing and playing as the show must go on.
A few hours later, she paced her way down the wing, guitar case in one hand and her belongings packed into a single plastic bag. She reflected on the fact that she had always travelled light throughgout her life. Soon, the sights and sounds, including the final applause, faded behind in the gentle wind outside in the bright sunlight and wide open spaces. After all, the prison was hidden away in a little known backwater in the London metropolis.
True to form, her elderly mother turned up in an elderly Ford Escort, ready to take her away. She smiled fondly,lumbered her possessions into the back seat and got into the passenger seat.
"Hi mum, I'm so glad you could help out. It's great to see you when I needed you," she said placatingly to the other woman. she knew that she'd never really been forgiven for wilfully stepping away from the path that her mother had lovingly mapped out for her. Becoming a lesbian interfered with maternal plans at one remove and settling down in life and the tabloid headlines seven years ago were the final straw.
"I'll take you to your hostel, that's what we agreed to. A leopard doesn't change her spots," came the ungracious reply from the other woman as she forced the gearstick into place and hurriedly moved them away from this place of shame into the high street.
"I mean we've got more chance of some quality time together," Mel said quietly and persuasively. She felt a little dizzy and spaced out as the backstreets of London whizzed past at such an insane speed. It didn't bother her mother, strangely enough.
"I'll make sure you're settled in and I'll phone you up from time to time. The trouble is that we've got too much bad history between us. You can't shrug off consequences," her mother said cryptically. The younger woman couldn't deny it because, after all, she'd always wanted to make it on her own.
Pretty soon, Mel was deposited at the depressing looking hostel, complete with flaking blue pained stout wooden front door. It had done duty for many an ex-inmate of Larkhall Prison before her so the impersonally efficient keyworker was prepared for the latest intake. He briskly reeled off a list of instructions as she showed Mel to her single room. another person keen to tell her how to live her life, Mel thought but she wasn't in any mood for open dissent. She desperately needed time to find her own feet, including a visit to the social security with her discharge grant paperwork and then she could pick up the threads of her former existence.
Two days later, she'd figured out the lay of the land, the feel of the neighbourhood streets around the hostel after having cashed her first girocheque. It had taken Mel a little while to get used to the way prices had jumped up since she was last on the outside and busy streets, going where she pleased felt disorienting to begin with until she got some kind of routine together. Unexpectedly, her mother had returned with her old belongings including her favourite cherry red electric guitar and amplifier.
"Don't thank me for it. I can't bear to see things thrown out so someone had to do it," her mother said in passing before zooming off. With a great joy in her heart, Mel plugged in her amplifier, set it to low volume and doodled around on the slim fitting fretboard. This gave her faint feelings of increased power flowing through her veins. She vowed to herself that as soon as she could do so, she'd let loose once again.
She freshened herself up a bit and inspected herself in the mirror. Though she was a little faded and worn, she reckoned she looked good to the eye in her rocker chic fashion. She set out defiantly to the pub her investigations had marked out as gay friendly. As she swung inside, a definite thrill of anticipation ran through her system as she was starting out all over again. Her attention was immediately grabbed by a slim lady with burly black hair, soft red lips, a low cut lacy black minidress showing off gorgeous long legs. The intense glow in the eyes of this sultry brunette zeroed straight through Mel and her throat turned dry. This was unbelievable luck, she thought as a girlish little voice flowed through her senses and she knew beyond doubt that she'd scored.
A couple of hours later of intimate conversation and a stroll upstairs and Mel was lying flat on her back and arching her back in ecstacy and her legs spread apart. She lay on fabulous scented white sheets in a wide double bed which she hadn't experienced for years and to make matters perfect, she was being exquisitely pleasured by a woman whose tongue was greedily licking inside her. This was the life, she sighed as she rose irresistably up to her first orgasm of the night while her lungs sought out extra oxygen as she cried out with pleasure.
As she gradually slid down off her fabulous climax, she sighed all the kind of endearments that came natural to her. She really did feel so happy and complete as this woman was dynamite.
"I knew I wanted you as soon as I saw you come in. A lady always knows," came the self-assured purring tones as she came into view.
"You don't waste any time babes. That's the way I like it," Mel said gently and admiringly as the two women slid round the curves of each other and moved round the wide open spaces of their bed. Pretty soon, Mel felt a soft hand upon her wrist and start to ease it along the length of her body. Judging by the way she kissed her with little sighing breaths and gently squirm with pleasure, this woman was on fire inside and hungry for her.
"I want you so much. I'm so moist inside," she murmured into Mel's ear in between kissing her neck.
"I'm not known to deny a lady her pleasures," Mel answered and her fingers trailed down her stomach and finally thrust inside her centre. Instantly, the curly- haired woman groaned in ecstacy and started pushing back perfectly with her hips, her legs widening open to make it easy for her. The obvious pleasure Mel was giving this woman was a real turn on and it was clear that she was being enveigled to play the part of the butch in this budding relationship. As she thought about it, she could live with it especially as this woman was as sexually rapacious as herself.. She leaned over the curly haired woman as her fingers started working faster inside the wetness of her lover. She had the the certain knowledge that this was going to be a night to remember.
"I never caught your name babes," a tired but satisfied Mel asked her lover an hour or so later as they lay side by side. She loved having her long dark hair gently stroked and every minute of their lovemaking. She'd never really had a woman who set her soul on fire like this and she reckoned with some pride that she'd bedded more than her fair share of women. It turned out from their earlier sexual circling round each other on the sofa that she ran the bar but she needed some help Well, she's woman enough for this, she thought with some self satisfaction..
"I'm Isobel. I like it. I think it suits me," the other woman gently cooed in her girlish fashion. Her raging desires had been quenched tonight by the feel of this demon lover being inside and around 'd kissed and tasted each other's bodies for hours and had only stopped when they'd both become finally exhausted and sexually satiated.
"My name's Mel, short for Melanie," came the slightly hoarse reply as she flicked her hair off her shoulders, a little mannerism that she knew would go down well.
"I don't normally pounce on the first woman who enters my pub. You're really special and that's different," Isobel murmured, her fingers lightly running down her lover's back.
"You're really gorgeous babes. Are you really tired out because I'm not," Mel said boldly as her fingers followed her eyes in stroking her lover's breasts. This was the perfect cue for Isobel to move into her lover's strong armsd and to start kissing and cuddling once again.
The following week, Mel persuded Isobel in their shared impulsive fashion to go up to London for the day, setting off from their shared flat over the pub. Mel loved the feel of city streets under her feet and the colourful sights and sounds of the metropolis. It made her feel she'd arrived. Her proceeds of her drug supplying had done her no good being impounded when she'd been arrested so her previous experiences of sleasy backstreets were behind her now.
She strolled along, hand in hand with her beloved who was dressed up in unbelievable high heels and a frothy black lace dress. Suddenly, they came to a busy junction and Mel caught a split second glimpse of the unmistakeable profile of Jo Mills. she was crossing her line of vision as she moved across her at righht angles amongst a stream of people and was soon swallowed up in the crowds. She was smartly dressed, head turned slightly away from herand chatting. Another woman was with her judging by the longish bair hair that floated back in a suidden breeze.
Isobel was looking in her critical fashion at the fashion shop the other side of Mel so she clean missed the brief expression on Mel's face. It denoted a temporary sense of loss and a flashback to her childhood. Her habitual 'don't look back' self defence took over, a phrase she'd heard of as a film title. She'd vaguely understood it was about an old time American folk singer but she'd never had the time to investigate it further as she was so caught up in the present.