The Bars That Hold Us (16 page)

‘Good God, Mercy, keep it down, will you?’

‘You brought it up, Harry. If my disbelief isn’t enough to dissuade you then I don’t know what is.’

‘Don’t get your panties in a twist, girl. Believe me, I was kind of rooting for you. It’s time you got back in the saddle.’ He laughs loudly. Teasing the shit out of me has always been his forte. He just seems to have gotten a little better at it over the years. If he actually had any idea that he was spot on, I’m sure his tune would be completely different. It’s not in a copper’s nature mix with a different beast. It goes against the grain. It’s only because he thinks this whole situation is one big joke that he can sit here and laugh about it.

I motion for the bar tender to pour us two shots, deciding that if we’re even going to go anywhere near the subject of Saxon, I’m going to need more alcohol to drown out the desire to speak his name with any kind of fondness. He’s my secret. Not to be shared with anyone – not even family.

I’m going to keep drinking until my gums are numb and I can’t feel my legs. At least that way I won’t have to pretend that I’m incapable of speech.

I can stay ignorant to the taunts and jibes of my brothers without saying anything incriminating. The advantages of being drunk include this magnificent buzz that none of t
he party goers can take away. I may be forced at times to enter the world of social interaction and the pretense of giving a fuck. Truth be told, I’d rather be alone with Saxon in the library. At least there he’d be able to hold me when I need him the most.

I sit nervously and wait, eagerly watching the myriad of faces that will determine my fate. There’s no rhyme or reason to who has turned up for this meeting today, they’re just rand
omly selected employees of the State who get to determine my fate based on the evidence presented before them.

I know four years is a light sentence to get for manslaughter – for killing someone and forever taking them away from
the people who loved them. But four years has seemed like forever. I feel like I’ve aged decades rather than years, and missed out on so much of my life to boot. There has been the odd day that I’ve wondered if I would have been better off dead, but then reason kicks in and you do everything you can do to fight, to get through one more day.

I’m hoping that the panel of men and women who work for the parole board can see that I’m a model inmate
—that I’ve contributed, and kept my nose clean. I hope that they can justify an early release for already serving my mandatory sentence without any red marks on my jacket.

The parole interviews are held in the indoor gymnasium. It seems too big for such an intimate decision, but I guess I beggars can’t be choosers. I say nothing as I sit uncomfortably on the hard, wooden chair. All I can do is wait – something I’ve become very good as since I first arrived at Silverwater.

The rustle of paperwork echoes in the space between us, no immediate walls to stop it. They flick through, paying careful attention to details. I want to scream at them to hurry up, although I know it would do no good. This is a due process. Rules and regulations will be followed to the letter or somebody will have some explaining to do.

The man in charge of the interview sits in the middle of the panel of five. He closes the folder in front of him and removes his glasses from the bridge of his nose, and then rubs it as though the spectacles have somehow pinched him. His closing of the file signal
s that he’s made a decision, an indicator for the others to finish up with their perusal as well. They talk in whispers amongst themselves. I strain to hear any part of their conversation – any indication that will tell me they are swayed in my favor.

He coughs, clears his throat and addresses me.

‘Mr. Miles, the parole board has reached a decision with regards to your request for an early release. We are satisfied that all criteria have been met with regards to your sentencing and hereby declare that you are now eligible for parole. You qualify for release exactly one month from today, and you will be released into the custody of Parole Officer, Frank Kelly. Should you fail to report directly to him, you will be obligated to serve out the remainder of your sentence in full.’

‘Your case officer here at Silverwater will organize all the necessary paperwork for you to complete. Do you have any questions?’

‘No. Thank you very much.’ The elation I feel is incredible.
One month!
In exactly one month I will be a free man. I can’t even begin to explain how much this decision means to me or my family. Jamie is going to go ballistic when I tell him.
What will Mercy think?

‘Right, Mr. Miles. You are dismissed for
now and are to remain in Silverwater Penitentiary until your release date.’

I thank them all one last time, not being able to get out of the hall fast enough in case they change their minds.
Besides, I have another reason to hurry – Mercy is waiting for me to give her the news.

Things have been tense lately. I know with the renovations just about complete she’s been on edge whenever I see her. I don’t blame her, though, because I understand what it feels like. I don’t want it to end either. We have arrived at a point where stolen glances in the mess hall or brief interactions on the cell block just aren’t enough. We both need more, and I didn’t want to be the one to take it all away from her.

She ignites such a burning passion, that the mere thought of her spurs my dick to throb in my pants. And my heart – it aches just as much. I’m lost without her. It’s hard to say whether my reaction to her is a product of my incarceration or if out in the real world I would still feel the same need to be totally consumed by her. I want the chance to find out. I need to have her remain just as important to me on the outside as she does in here so that I can validate what I feel for her is genuine.

I know she needs more from me, too. As much as she’d hate to admit it, she’s come to rely on my companionship as well. There’s something about me
that makes it a little easier for her to get through her day. We share a connection—an understanding. I
know
her, and she likes that. 

Clarence walks me back to my cell, eager to drop me off so that he can continue with his rounds. I’ve missed chow with the rest of the inmates, but my good
news was certainly worth it. Besides, I’m sure when Mercy comes to get me she’ll have with her a tray of slop from lunchtime.

I stand at the bars, waiting for her. On the other side of the cell block, the Lebanese are paying close attention, watc
hing my coming and goings. One of them slides a finger across his throat. You don’t need to be a genius to figure out his intent. His message was already delivered loud and clear – there’s just not a damn thing I can do about it. The sooner I’m out of this shithole the better.

Like I knew she would, Mercy comes looking for me by early afternoon. I’m sure she’ll be
able to pick up on my vibe, although I try not to look too ecstatic under the watchful gaze of my fellow prisoners. Even those who aren’t personally vested in seeing me destroyed still like to watch my movements with the precision of an eagle. Nothing is sacred in this joint and I need to be careful I don’t give any of these guys fuel for their fire. Having anyone find out about Mercy and me isn’t an option. So, I try to tone it down a bit. A hard thing to do when all I’ve been thinking about for months is this moment.

She lets me out of my cage, her lips fighting a smile the whole time. We don’t need words – she knows. For show, I let her boss me around, flexing her dominance in front of watchful eyes. I’m happy to let her be like that here, but the minute I get her alone, all bets are off. She’s mine and I’m in one of my moods. The one where pent up energy is dying to be released through pleasuring her body.

If anyone where to observe us walking through the halls towards the library, they’d say that we looked very eager to get started on work. By the time Mercy’s punching in the security code for the library, my hands are already on her waist.

We fall through
the entryway, stumbling past empty paint cans that are yet to be disposed of. I toe-kick the door shut, eager to let my mouth have its way with the supple skin of Mercy’s body. She lets my hands roughly find their way over the planes of her belly, eager to squeeze and pinch her in all the right places. She feels
so
good. What I’d really like to do is get completely naked with her and lie between sheets that don’t resemble a steel scourer.

For the time being, I settle for what we have here. It won’t be long. Fuck, after doing over three years
in this joint, a month in here should be a walk in the park.

‘You got it, didn’t you?’ She pants between kissing me back.

‘Yes. Does that make you happy?’

‘Very,’ she grins beneath my lips.

I wonder absently if I’ve become a bit of a crutch for Mercy. It’s not that I set out to be, but I think I’m okay with it even it were true. I want to be there for her and I love making her happy. Right now, I’m making her very happy.

Her hands are splayed across my abdominals, caressing and touching, teasing a hard-on out of me as they dip lower towards my groin.
We exchange hot kisses and lingering tongues as our hands fumble with unwanted clothing. I want nothing more than to bury myself to the hilt and stroke her until she comes. Judging by the way she’s brushing her body against me, she wants that too.

She loses her boots while I fumble with her pants. At times like these, I damn well wish she wore a skirt. It’d certainly make things a hell of a lot easier.

Her delicate fingers entwine behind my neck, pulling me in deeper for a lingering kiss. I love making out with Mercy. It takes me back to a time where I was younger and kissing was as far as you’d get when out on a date with a girl. The way Mercy kisses me I’d have to say it’s a seriously underrated act when it comes to foreplay. If I wasn’t so hot for her right now, I’m sure I could be satisfied with just her lips.

She lets me drop her pant
s and underwear around her ankles, leaving her pussy glistening with desire in front of me.

‘Holy fuck, Mercy, you’re going to be the death of me.’ Something flickers in her eyes and I realize my poor choice in words a little too late. Before I allow her to dwell on it, I scoop her up and
lay her down on a nearby table. Pretty soon I’m going to be doing things to her that are going to make her forget all about a few misspoken words.

Dropping my own pants I climb up on to the table with her, straddling her hips so my cock is pressed against her belly. Her skin feels cool – a welcome change from the throbbing heat of my erection.

Before thoughts can consume her, I kiss away any doubt while gently probing her sex with my cock, teasing her for what’s to come. When neither of us can stand it anymore, I thrust the full force of my hips against her. My cock enters easily, her wetness enveloping me like a warm glove. She uses all of her muscles to squeeze me tight, holding me in place and controlling the rhythm she likes.

We rock back and forth, the promises of a future beyond these walls spurring us on. I want to be free of this life that’s had its grips on me for so long, and something tells me that Mercy feels the same way. It doesn’t
take long to take her to the edge, inciting her to let go of all her control. She explodes beneath me, the feather-light touch of her depths provoking an earth-shattering orgasm of my own.

As I come down from the crescendo of making love, I realize
I want to know the woman beyond the cage. I want to see what she’s like when she spreads her wings.