The tall, slender blonde projected outer calm as she followed the guard to her new home for the foreseeable future. She'd heard stories about what life in prison was like and it was only strength of will that kept her from showing that her stomach was tying itself into knots. When they stopped outside a particular cell, an auburn head popped up from the top bunk, hazel eyes looking over the blonde cursorily before shifting to the guard. "Really, Betsy?"
"Sorry, Abby. I know you'd rather be by yourself," the guard retorted as she nudged the blonde further into the cell. She glanced over her shoulder at the guard and did a double-take at her strong resemblance to the inmate. Are they related? "Space is at a premium and Martha, here, shouldn't be too bad."
'Abby' sighed deeply, rolled off the bed, making Martha gasp, and landed neatly on her feet. "All right, fine. It's not like I have anything else to do while I wait for my parole."
"Good girl." 'Betsy' patted the redhead's shoulder and withdrew from the cell, leaving the two women alone together.
As her new cellmate studied her more carefully, Martha did the same. 'Abby' was a good half foot shorter than her, thick auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, and orange jumpsuit straining a little at her chest and hips. The redheaded nodded thoughtfully and offered her hand. "I'm Abigail Adams."
"Martha Jefferson." She shifted her bundle to one arm so she could shake the other woman's hand. Abigail's grip was firm, her hand smaller than Martha's, but not delicate by any means. "I shouldn't really be here."
Abigail rolled her eyes as she released Martha's slender hand. "Everyone says that, honey."
"It's true," she insisted, even as Abigail helped her make her bunk and put away the rest of her things. "I was framed."
Abigail straightened up and folded her arms across her chest, incidentally drawing Martha's attention to the shorter woman's rather outstanding attributes. "Then you'll be freed eventually. Until then, though, you're stuck in here."
"I'm well aware of that," Martha retorted as she slumped onto the lower bunk with a sigh.
She couldn't help jumping a little when Abigail sat down right next to her, shoulder-to-arm. "Do you know how to fight?"
"No, I was raised to be a 'lady'." Her voice was bitter as she admitted that. "We weren't supposed to know how to fight."
Abigail shook her head. "You'll be easy pickings for the rougher women here. They love slender, delicate women because they're easy prey."
"Thank you for telling me." Martha couldn't suppress a shudder at the thought of being violated by another woman.
The redhead rested a small hand on the blonde's thigh. "They won't touch you if I make it clear you're my playtoy, though."
She stared at the other woman in surprise. "What, you mean give myself to you?"
"Yes. I was taught how to fight from a young age, so no one's been able to touch me." There was no air of bragging. Abigail was simply stating a fact. "If you give yourself to me, the other women won't touch you and you'll be safe until you get released."
Martha shook her head slightly, gazing at Abigail steadily. "But I'm married."
"So'm I," Abigail retorted. "John knows what it's like in a prison and told me already that whatever happens in here, he'll still love me. We'll still be together when I get out."
The blonde looked down at her clasped hands, clenching them tight. Her voice was little louder than a whisper when she finally answered, "I'm not sure Tom will understand, though. It's different in the South."
"I'll let you think about it," Abigail replied, lightly squeezing Martha's thigh. "I won't force you into being with me, but I do think it's the best choice, given the circumstances."
The redhead climbed back onto the upper bunk, the springs creaking as she stretched out. Martha lay back on her bed, thoughts whirling through her head. She loved Tom very much. Being separated from him was the worst part of this mess. Would he be as understanding as Abigail's John? Would he prefer that she choose her bed partner rather than have someone force themselves on her? She shuddered at the thought of someone touching her, violating her. At least Abigail wasn't going to make her do anything she didn't want. And it was likely that Abigail would think of Martha's pleasure as well as her own. If another woman forced herself on Martha, she wouldn't be so lucky. Her decision made, Martha whispered, "Abigail?"
"Hmm?" Though the response sounded drowsy, it had come far too quickly for the other woman to actually be asleep.
It took Martha a few moments to find her voice. Long enough for Abigail to shift and peer over the edge of her bed at the blonde. Finally, her voice still whisper-soft, Martha said, "I've never been with a woman before."
"I have and it's not unlike touching yourself." Abigail disappeared for a moment, and then reappeared, jumping from her bunk to the floor. "Think of what you like and see if I like it."
Feeling as shy as she'd been the first time she'd been with Tom, Martha asked, "Could you show me?"
"Of course." Abigail smiled reassuringly, showing Martha something that she'd apparently had hidden on her bunk: a dildo.
She couldn't help staring at it: she'd never seen one before. "How did you get that in here?"
"My John has a friend who's good at smuggling things in to me." The redhead waved a hand dismissively as she set the dildo on the bed beside the blonde and reached out to rest her hand over Martha's heart, feeling the quickened beat. "I actually have quite a few, but this one is good for someone who's never used one before."
Abigail's hand was warm, even through the material of the jumpsuit and Martha's breath caught in her throat for a moment at the other woman's touch. "I've only ever had Tom inside me and he's a bit longer than that, though not quite as thick."
"Really?" Auburn eyebrows arched inquiringly, hazel eyes gleaming with interest. "That is actually about the exact size of my John, though he would insist that he's certainly longer."
Martha couldn't stifle a giggle of amusement at the thought. "Men are so vain about their bits, aren't they?"
"Yes they are." Abigail's smile was mischievous as she began to undo the buttons of Martha's jumpsuit. "But, as I keep telling my John, it's not the size that counts, it's how you use it."
The blonde giggled helplessly, unable to stop the redhead if she'd wanted to. "Tom uses his very well, I can assure you of that."
"Let's see if I can use that dildo as well as Tom does his cock, hmm?" Abigail leaned in to kiss Martha, still unbuttoning the jumpsuit.
The last time Tom kissed Martha, it was the day she was sentenced to jail. The moment the judge had banged the gavel to dismiss the court, Tom had jumped over the railing separating them and pulled her into his arms for a last, desperate kiss. They'd clung to each other as they'd all but devoured each other, storing the taste and feel of each other to help them endure the separation. Now, Martha clung to Abigail, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she thought of her husband. I'm sorry, Tom...
"Stop thinking," Abigail murmured against Martha's lips, moving the jumpsuit aside so she could cup Martha's breasts in her hands. "Just feel."
The blonde moaned at the feel of the small, capable hands cupping her breasts, the thumbs teasing her sensitive nipples. "Yessss..."
"That's it, honey," Abigail crooned, stretching out beside Martha and kissing her cheek. "Let me take care of you."
Martha gave herself up to the pleasure of Abigail's touch. "Please, Abby..."