Crackwhore

'Women of itntrepid charm can't be stopped- they'll even steal what they want. Why be timid? Tears cannot bring satisfaction. You want him, he's hungry for sexual pleasure...' - Amarushataka #9

Oh dear, the things a girl fresh out of prison will get herself into. I spent the weekend smoking crack with my old jiu-jitsu partner. As he attacked my body with strong hands and mouth, I sighed. Remind me what's good about America, I whispered coquettishly. Stop struggling and behave yourself, he said, I know what you need little girl and I'll have you begging for it. I'm not impressed with all this running around with European boys you do trying to make me jealous, he continued and kept talking dirty to me (the boy knows what I like, what can I say?) until I was quivering for it. Wow, I needed that!
So it's Monday now and as the pipesmoke clears I see I owe the drug dealers money I don't have (had to borrow from an ex- he's furious), my mobile is without credit, my partner in crime is MIA, and my teeth hurt. Bollocks.
I think I'll stick with the sex and leave the crack for the week. And I thought prison was stressful!
Adding to my stress, Silver Fox stole almost all of my belongings from my flat just after I was imprisoned. Spiteful little bitch. He's trying to say my fiance ransacked my flat and destroyed the things I was emotionally attached too. Ri-ight. The courts will have to sort that shit out. Honestly, what a loser.
I'm sure you're all curious about British prisons so let's begin with the anecdotes.
I was held at the border for 20 hours then taken to the police station for 2 days. Not only no vices allowed but also no shower or soap of any sort. -Gattina licks her paw and washes her face vigorously at the memory- At the end of that, our heroine was marched over to the magistrates court to be remanded to prison awaiting crown court. This took all day and I was locked in a holding cell with a lovely drug smuggler from America whilst we waited for whatever came next.
I wish everyone was as polite as you in custody, the court warder beamed at me. He had just told us that our transport, affectionately referred to as the sweat boxes, was waiting to take us to HMP Bronzefield.
Why thank you, John, I said. A pleasure my dear, he said and actually bowed.
The handcuffs were not comfortable and the sweat boxes were a horror but I continued in my giddy unreality until the other inmates began arriving for processing. My drug smuggling friend and I huddled together and requested that we be cellmates. We sorted our bedding and giggled together whilst we took stock of our new environs. It finally occured to me to wonder about the time but my lovely Cartier watch was kept in the prison safe and my padmate's was set to another time zone. Hmm.. there appeared to be a communication bell in the wall so I rang it. State your emergency, came a stern male voice. Eep! I leapt in the air then composed myself. In my pure sloany accent I drawled, oh I don't have an emergency sir, I was just wondering the time. Dead air. We girls fell into the giggles and I jumped onto a chair to spring into the top bunk. My first night in prison.