When Jim Fenner woke up one morning with his cock pointing at the ceiling and crisp memories of his dream still etched in his mind, he knew something was going wrong with him. He'd been dreaming about Helen Stewart.
Years of conventional wisdom (sex dreams meant nothing, didn't they?) couldn't clear the uneasiness. Not that she was unattractive by any means, but Jim liked to think he was above fantasizing about women who would gladly ruin him given the chance. And with all the attention Helen had been paying Nikki Wade, Jim doubted he was even Helen's type.
And to think, less than a month ago he'd thought she was gone for good, having given up the Wing Governor position. That hadn't lasted long. She may have only ran the lifers' group now, but with all the lifers on G-Wing, and that meant there was no avoiding Helen.
Even the fact that she wasn't Wing Governor anymore became soured. He hadn't gotten the job, after all. He thought, sometimes, about how things could have gone differently. Would he be Wing Governor right now if it weren't for the mess with Dockley? Or had Karen been primed to take the position all along? Either way, he couldn't rejoice in Helen's resignation.
His dislike for Helen had grown past what was reasonable for the trouble she had caused him. It had grown to a point where she had become important, which was the worst insult of all.
A few days after the dream, Jim was working a late shift. Once the women were locked up, he settled into the office to complete some of the paperwork he'd been stuck with. He rubbed his tired eyes and set to work, already thinking about which take-away place he'd stop by on the way home. He didn't get paid nearly enough for his job.
He heard footsteps and looked up to see Sylvia come into the office.
"Another day over at last, eh?" she said. She tossed a file onto the table, next to coffee machine. "If they're going to make me work this late, they'll need to give me a raise. I should tell that Miss Betts that I'll go to my union."
"You do that, Sylv," he said, absently.
"That woman thinks she can drive us like slaves. Sure, she used to be one of us, but then she gets her own office, and thinks she can sit on her behind all day. I'm set to be out of here in ten minutes, and she gave me this" she pointed at the file "to give to Miss Stewart. As if it can't wait 'til morning."
Jim looked up at her. "You're heading home, then."
"Oh, yes. Goodnight, Jim."
She left, leaving the file on the table — no doubt intentionally. Jim was inclined to leave it there, and be on his way, himself. It was late, and in the time it would take to walk across the prison to Helen's office, his shift would be over, anyway. He didn't even know if Helen was working right now, though he knew she worked late often. Her car was always still there when he left.
Jim finished his own work, filed it away, and went over to the folder Sylvia had left. He opened it, thumbing through the papers. It was something about budget allotment. It looked like Helen's lifers' group was going to get some extra funds. What for, Jim couldn't imagine.
With a deep breath, he left the office, folder in hand.
The wing was dark and quiet, now, as were the halls. He unlocked the gate and ventured down in the direction of the small office Helen kept now due to Karen's generosity.
He didn't know why he was bothering, but he could justify it with curiosity. He didn't trust Helen for a second, and he was the only one who bothered to keep an eye on things.
When Jim reached the office, he stopped by the door. He couldn't hear anything on the other side of it, and wondered if, for once, Helen had gone home early. He reached for the doorknob but thought twice, and rapped his knuckles on the door.
After a second, he heard, "Come in."
Helen was sitting at her crowded desk. Jim came in the room in time to see her place whatever she was reading under another piece of paper, concealing it. He raised his eyebrows, but didn't remark on it.
"This is for you," he said, holding up the folder. "Courtesy of Karen."
"Thank you," she said, and waited.
He held it out to her, and she hesitated, expecting, maybe, for him to put it on the desk. Finally she reached out and took it, her fingers grazing his. Her hand was cold. It was cold in the office, and she was dressed in layers, with a jumper over her blouse.
She set the folder down without opening it.
Jim cracked a smile. "Late night for you too, huh?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"I would think you'd have less work, now."
She gave him a small, formal smile. "Not less at all, really. Just more concentrated."
"Getting involved in special cases, then?"
Helen cocked her head. "What? You're interested in the lifers' group, now?"
He wasn't, and she seemed to realize that. "You were always quick to invest yourself in the women," he said. "Like Nikki Wade."
Helen didn't betray anything. "I'm lucky to know a lot of the women here. Nikki's a smart woman — you don't give her credit."
"Well, she's got decent taste in women, I'll have to give her that."
Helen's jaw clenched. She took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. "What are you doing here, Jim?"
He motioned innocently at the folder. "Just playing delivery boy. I'd thought you'd be grateful – it looks like Betts has gotten some more funding approved for you. I'd make the stop and let you find out tonight."
"Thank you," she said, "if you don’t mind, I have work to do."
Jim turned to leave, but she spoke again, stopping him with his hand on the doorknob.
"Jim," she said, "is there a problem?"
He looked at her over his shoulder. She had stood up. "Not on my part." He sighed. "Helen, you should know -- whatever you think of me, whatever's happened, I'm willing to work together, here. The only question is if you are."
A look of doubt crossed her face, and she frowned. She opened and closed her mouth a couple times before saying, "That's very big of you, Jim."
"I always thought we could have been friends, if you'd let us."
She narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips, and it was clear that this show of friendliness didn't convince her of anything.
"What do you want, Jim? It's never innocent with you."
Helen stepped closer to him. They looked at each other, and, instead of answering her, Jim leaned in to kiss her on the lips. He planted his hands on her shoulders and pressed his tongue into her warm mouth.
He felt her surprised gasp, and her hands on his chest. She pushed back and stared at him wide-eyed.
"Come on," he said, his voice hoarse. "You've never thought of it?"
She was breathing heavily, and wouldn't look away. "You're mad. Get out," she said, but her voice wasn't angry – it was eerily neutral. It would have been almost comforting if she were angry.
"Tell me you've never wanted it," he said.
Frankly, he was bluffing. But to his surprise, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. She pushed him against the wall. He bumped his head, but ignored the throb. His cock grew erect and strained against his trousers, and he pressed against Helen's hip.
Jim slid his hand under Helen's jumper and blouse, feeling one of her breasts beneath what felt like a lacy bra, and she abruptly pulled back.
"We can't," she said.
"We were doing just fine, love. Why stop now?"
Helen moved her head to one side, as though she'd meant to shake her head but had stopped halfway. She sighed. "Just go, Jim."
He was slow to obey, wanting to argue. But he turned and opened the door. He shut it behind him, and stood by it for a minute, listening. But he heard nothing.
* * *
Jim didn't see Helen again for a couple days. He imagined she was angry at him over what had happened, and he was waiting for the fall-out. That what would be her style, to get mad out of denial.
Then, one morning he came in to work to fine a partially-sealed envelope taped to his locker. He tore it open to find a note from Helen.
Jim, if you want to get some lunch later, meet me by my car. - Helen
Jim looked around, worried about being seen, but he was alone. He folded up the note and put it in his pocket.
By lunch time, he still hadn't decided if he would meet Helen. When the time came, though, it was obvious: he had to take her up on the offer. Anything less, and he'd look like a coward.
Helen was standing by her car as promised. When Jim approached her, she said, "I guess we'll get lunch, then?"
"It was your suggestion."
"There's a Chinese place nearby that I like."
Jim followed her there in his car. It was a small restaurant not far from Larkhall, and when they went inside, Jim looked around for anyone he knew. Maybe there was nothing wrong with being seen in public with Helen Stewart, but the idea bothered him all the same.
Once they got their food, Jim decided to be blunt. "What do you want, Helen?"
She took a sip of her water and looked at him. "You said you wanted us to work together."
"Oh, come on, cut the crap—"
"You see most of the women a lot more often than I do. Even when I was Wing Governor, that was true. So you're right—we need to work together. I want to make the lifers' group work, but I—"
"You didn't suggest we come here because you wanted to talk business."
She didn't answer, and he continued: "You liked it, didn't you? That night?"
Helen looked down and shook her head. She almost looked like she was smiling. "I don't like you, Jim." She looked him in the eye. "I really can't stand you. I never have."
"Well, you didn't have any complaints."
This time, she did smile. "The funny thing is, you're really attracted to me, aren't you?"
Jim scoffed. "You're flattering yourself."
Helen leaned forward. "Don't do this. Just tell me what you want. You want to kiss me again? Sleep with me?"
There was a pause. "All right, then."
"I mean it. We get it out of our systems, and never think about it again. It's what you want, so let's do it."
* * *
Jim again followed Helen in his car, this time not knowing where they were going to end up. A hotel, maybe. He hadn't asked about the details, though it looked like Helen had some sort of plan in mind. He was torn between being suspicious at this turn of events and celebrating his good fortune.
It was possible, wasn't it, that she'd wanted to seduce him all along? He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.
She didn't lead him to a hotel. Instead, within a few minutes they were in a residential area, and she stopped in front of a house.
"This your place?" he asked when they got out of their respective cars.
"Yes. Not what you expected?"
"Haven't seen the inside yet, have I?"
Helen unlocked the front door. Jim stepped in behind her, and looked around.
"Would you like a drink?" she asked. "I have some wine."
"Maybe a small glass."
She hung up her jacket, and disappeared into the dark living room. A second later, a light came on in the distance, in what must have been the kitchen. Jim took off his coat and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall, and went to sit down on the sofa.
What was he doing there? He still didn't believe, really, that they were going to do this. Jim liked a challenge, but Helen Stewart was a possibility he'd never allowed himself to seriously consider, even after their brief fumble in her office.
And if she was willing, what did that mean about her? How much had he underestimated her?
She came back with two glasses of wine. He waited to see if she would join him on the couch, but she didn't -- she put his glass on the coffee table and sat in a chair on the other side.
Helen smiled and took a sip of her wine. "You look so tense."
Her smile broadened. "Mmm. Well, it's not even half over, yet. We're supposed to be on our lunch."
"We probably won't be missed."
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her wineglass settled between her knees. "You are attracted to me, aren't you?"
"I'd have to be blind not to be. You're not half bad-looking."
Helen laughed and shook her head. "You only love me because you hate me."
He shifted on the cushion. "Those are some strong words. Not sure I'd say it that way."
She just shrugged, and raised her glass to her lips.
"But seriously, Helen . . . you've always been quick to jump to conclusions about me. Don't you think you've been a wee bit unfair?"
"How so?" She cocked her head to one side. Her hair, which she kept tucked so perfectly behind her ears these days, fell forward over her cheek.
"Well, we're not all that different, are we?"
She regarded him for a moment before shaking her head. "Perhaps not."
"And that business, you know, with Dockley. I know how it looked. But I know myself. That's what matters."
"All that matters is that you can live with yourself," she said.
He swallowed. "Something like that."
Helen set her glass on the coffee table, by his. Jim realized he hadn't touched his own wine yet, though he felt buzzed already. Helen stood up and sauntered over to the sofa.
She kissed him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she put her finger on his lips.
"We've both had our transgressions," she said. "I'm not a good person."
He pulled his head back, away from her hand, and clicked his tongue. "Now Helen. . ."
"No. I used to live here with my fiance. Do you think he'd say I'm a good person? An honorable person?"
She kissed him again, and said, "You know me. Just like I know you."
He reached for his glass, and took a hurried sip.
"I should go, maybe."
"No. Tell me." She took the glass from his hand, setting it back on the table. "Tell me what you think, be honest." Her voice was soft, only a murmur.
When he didn't reply, she laughed.
"I've despised you since my first day on G-wing," she said. "And now -- and now look at us. I think I've gone mad. It's Larkhall. It's everything. I must be completely mad."
"You were always mad," he said, his voice harsh. "A mad bitch. It wasn't me or Larkhall that did that to you."
She laughed again. "Ooh, some honesty, finally. It's refreshing, Jim, really."
Encouraged, he continued. "You drive me mad. I thought I was rid of you and then you came back and—I want—"
"What? What do you want?"
He took her hand in his, and moved his hand down her wrist and forearm. "What do you think I want? What the hell did I come here for?"
She pulled back, and stood up. "Then let's do it."
He didn't move, but sat there and looked up at her, dumb again for any words or idea of what to do.
"Or," she said, "are you too much of a coward to fuck a woman who can see what you are?"
She didn't wait for a response, but walked in the direction of the stairs. Jim waited for her to start up them before getting up to follow. She was climbing the stairs slowly, giving him a chance to catch up, which he did in time to enter her bedroom behind her.
She turned to face him, and he moved close to kiss her. Helen put her hands on his shoulders, blocking him.
"No, on the bed."
Jim sat down, leaning back with his weight on his arms. Helen stepped forward, between his spread knees, and looked down at him.
The room was dimly lit—the curtains were drawn and the only light came from the lamp on the nightstand. When she leaned down to kiss him, her hair tickled his neck.
For a long moment, she didn't do anything more, and Jim hoped that they hadn't reached an impasse. He sat up and slid one hand up her skirt and between her thighs. He pulled down the front her knickers and ran his hand over the smooth skin underneath. She breathed in deeply and rocked against his hand.
After a moment, she pulled away. He freed his hand, letting her skirt fall back in place.
"Take off your clothes," he said.
She shook her head. "I can do better than that. We're going to make the most of this."
He had no idea what she meant, but it didn't matter. The next moment, she said, "Lie down."
Jim obeyed, toeing off his shoes and lying down on the bed. Helen, meanwhile, walked across the room to the dresser. Jim rested his head on the pillow and watched her.
She opened the top drawer and seemed to search for something, Jim saw her move items around: a black, lacy bra; some pairs of stockings; what looked like a vibrator. Finally, she pulled out something made of shiny metal, and when she turned around, he saw it was a pair of handcuffs.
He swallowed when he saw them. Hedidn't know what he'd expected from her. She was so collected at work that it was almost a cliché to think of her having a secret, kinky side. Not a stretch to imagine, though.
She set the handcuffs on the nightstand and he looked at her questioningly, eyebrow raised, but didn't say anything.
Helen sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hand across his crotch. He was getting hard.
Jim sat up and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her forward and on top of him. She gasped, but settled with her legs on either side of his waist. Her skirt hitched up her thighs and her nylons rubbed against his trousers.
He had thought about this. Dreamed about it. Now, he thought everything they'd said and done up until now had led to this.
Helen's fingers shook as she started to undo his shirt buttons. He put his hands over hers, stopping her, and took over. He shrugged out of his shirt and pushed it off the side of the bed. She was looking down at him, her hands still and her eyes unblinking.
"I—" she started to say, but stopped. She took his wrists and pulled them over his head, towards the headboard.
He didn't move, not even when she reached for the handcuffs and threaded them around one of the bars on the headboard. He felt the cold metal latch around his wrists, securing him.
She felt his erection. "You like this?"
"I rather thought I'd be on top."
"Well, I've let you in, Jim. I'm not sure how greedy you can be right now."
He mumbled and she kissed his lips. He could feel her thigh, still in its nylon stocking, rub against his erection and he bucked up. But she pulled off of him, then, and stood beside the bed.
"One moment," she said, and she turned around. If he turned his head and strained his eyes, he could see her getting something from the dresser, but then she left with whatever she had retrieved, closing the bedroom door part-way as she left.
For the first time today, Jim started to think, and panic. What if she was going to leave him like this? What if this was some trick of hers? He started to hate himself for trusting her, and he hated her even more.
But he didn't call out for her—he wouldn't give her the pleasure of seeing his uncertainty.
The alarm clock on the nightstand ticked away the seconds, and Jim thought about what he would do if she didn't come back in another minute. Every now and then, his thoughts were interrupted by sounds downstairs, which only made him determined to play out whatever game Helen had planned.
Eventually, there were footsteps on the stairs. Jim didn't know how long it'd been—less than it felt like, probably. She pushed open the door, and he turned his head, as casually as he could, to look at her.
She had changed her clothes. Well, that was an understatement. She was wearing a body stocking, which ran from her neck down to her ankles, and down her arms. The first thing he looked at were her breasts, which were compressed against the soft mesh. Then he brought his gaze downward to her shaved crotch. The stocking had an open slit there, allowing access. He pulled at the handcuffs.
"No," she said, "stay still."
"Don't you want me to touch you?"
"I never would have imagined you having clothes like that."
She smiled. "I take it I've impressed you, then."
She moved back to the bed, and climbed on beside him. She ran a cool finger down his chest, and started to undo his belt. She undid his trousers and pushed them down and off, along with his boxers. She paused.
"God, Jim, what are we doing?" she asked, with a small shake of her head.
"You sure you want this?" he asked. "You sure you wouldn't rather fuck a woman?"
Her expression, which had been uncertain a moment ago, hardened. "You like to make assumptions, don't you?"
"So you fuck men, then?"
She ran a hand across his cock. "I like to think I know the territory."
Helen wrapped her long fingers around his cock, and began to move her hand up and down, sliding his foreskin gently. Jim bucked his hips at the touch. This continued for a couple minutes, and when he felt like he might come, she stopped.
"Don't tease me," he said with a growl.
"You're not the one in charge of that."
She moved down to the foot of the bed, and straddled his lower legs. She bent over and ran her tongue across his cock, causing him to jump again. She gently sucked on the head, and ran her tongue along the underside, and down by his balls. Every now and then, she would stop, leaving him writhing and desperate, waiting for her to continue and let him come.
"Please, Helen..." he said, after the third pause.
He swallowed, choking on his own words. "Do something."
"You want to come," she said, like it was a simple observance. "You want to touch me."
"You want," she repeated. "I bet you can't wait to get your hands on me."
"Yes," he said, swallowing. "I want to touch you. Your breasts, your cunt."
She leaned back down and whispered, as though directly to his cock, "Good luck with that."
For several minutes, the teasing continued, with Helen running her fingertips across his balls and sliding his cock in and out of her mouth. She slid it deeper until her lips nearly touched the base, letting his cock fill her mouth. She sucked, licked, and teased, until finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, she sucked him off in earnest. He felt himself reach the brink, and he tensed. She must have realized he was coming, because she stopped and pulled back.
His breath was ragged. He leaned his head back against the pillow and through his half-open eyes he saw most of his come land on Helen's breasts, as well as a little on her face. He jerked in the handcuffs and groaned.
As his heart returned to a normal beat, Jim lay back to catch his breath. Helen cleaned herself with a tissue and got the handcuff key from the nightstand, unlocking his hands. He ran his fingers around his wrists, soothing them, while she settled beside him, still flushed and tense with desire.
"I suppose it's my turn, now," she said.
He leaned over her and caressed her breasts. He put his free hand between her legs, and she spread them, allowing him to rub her clit and slide two fingers into her cunt through the slit in her body stocking. She was wet, and her clit was swollen with arousal. He spread her own wetness across her clit and moved his fingers in a circle over it. With his other hand, he rubbed her nipples through the netting. She lay back, spreading his legs further so he could bring her to orgasm.
"Not half bad, eh?" he asked, afterward. Her hair was damp with sweat and she smiled up at him drowsily. Jim lay back and closed his eyes, not falling asleep but coming close.
When Jim looked at the clock sometime later, he saw that he'd over-spent his lunch break by more than an hour. Still, the day might not be completely ruined if he went back to work now. It wouldn't be hard to think of an excuse.
He was still in bed with Helen, who was still wearing the body stocking and looked like she might be napping. Quietly, he got up and reached for his boxers.
He turned and saw her looking at him. She stretched her legs out.
"Should probably head back to work."
She curled her legs around herself, and sat up against the pillows. "I wasn't planning on it."
"Well, you won't be missed. I will be."
It hadn't been meant as a jab at her job. It was simple observation. It was the officers who had to do all the dirty work, and he would be missed the moment there was a problem.
It wasn't like he wanted to return, especially these days, so fresh after nearly losing his job over Dockley. Sometimes he felt like he was wasting his best years at Larkhall the same as some of the inmates were.
Helen was lying on the bed, inviting, and it occurred to Jim that there was no reason (not really) for them to stop now, or return to work today. He couldn't imagine going back and seeing Karen, nor could he imagine fucking her later without thinking entirely of Helen.
"I could stay," he said, carefully, not knowing if he'd be allowed.
Helen smiled slyly, and glanced not too subtly at his cock. "If you're up for it."
He dropped the boxers back on the floor and climbed back onto the bed with her. He embraced her, cupping one of her breasts and rubbing his thumb against the nipple. He pushed her hair aside, and kissed her neck.
"It would be a shame," Helen said, "if we didn't make the most of this. Wouldn't it?"
He couldn't argue with that. He realized he may never get another chance for this.
Helen stroked his cock, bringing him to another erection. She lay back, and tried to pull him on top of her, but he held back, and reached for the handcuffs on the nightstand.
When she saw what he meant to do, she looked skeptical, and Jim wondered if she might refuse.
"You scared?" he asked her, with a small smile. He dangled the cuffs on one finger and swung them back and forth.
She licked her lips, she smiled back. "Of course not."
As though accepting a dare, Helen lifted her hands above her head, to the spot where Jim had been cuffed not long before. Before handcuffing her, he maneuvered her arms out of her body stocking, and pulled it down to further expose her breasts. Once she was secured to the headboard, Helen pulled at the cuffs, as though testing them.
Jim ran his hands down the length of her torso, down to her hips. The mesh netting that still covered her lower body felt good under his palms. Helen closed her eyes and leaned upward into his touch. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so he could nibble and suck at her neck. He could feel her pulse beneath his lips, pounding. Her cheeks were pink with arousal, and her nipples were hard.
He rubbed her nipples and gently squeezed her breasts. Leaning forward, he placed his cock between them and, holding her breasts against his erection, thrust between them. She moaned while he rubbed his thumbs across her nipples. Her skin, soft and firm, pressed against his cock and if he'd wanted, he could have made himself come in a matter of moments. But there were a thousand things yet that he would love to do with Helen, and perhaps only this one night to try them.
Abruptly, he pulled back. He settled between her spread legs, and pushed inside her.
She gasped, and tensed around him. As he started to thrust, she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, digging her heels in his back.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes..."
Jim slowed for a moment, and reached down with one hand to rub her clit with his thumb. She squirmed and pushed against him, and he pulled back to compensate.
"How does it feel to be the one teased?" he asked. "I'm the one in charge, now."
She smiled and shuddered. She bit her lip, and pressed against him. Jim thrust into her hard and deep, making her press her head against the pillow and moan.
Finally, she cried out and clenched around him in pleasure. She twitched and buried her head into the pillow with a smile.
He finished with abandon, thrusting into her until he reached the point of no return. Then he pulled out, coming on her bare stomach and breasts while she relaxed and lay spent.
After a minute, Jim undid the cuffs and lay back on the bed, pulling off her. Slowly, she got up, leaving a damp spot of sweat on the pillow where her neck had been.
"I think I'd call that a success," she said. Her voice was giddy, and she laughed.
Jim just closed his eyes, in no hurry to leave.
* * *
It was late when Jim finally left. He'd left his mobile downstairs on Helen's coffee table, and when he retrieved it, he saw there were three new messages, all from Karen's office.
He would make something up about being sick, or a minor emergency with one of his kids.
It was getting dark outside as Jim made his way out to his car. Pausing at the driver's door, he looked up at Helen's bedroom window and saw her silhouette behind the curtains. He thought he could just see her looking out of a crack between them, down at him.
* * *
When they saw each other at work again, Helen said nothing about their day together, and showed no sign that anything was different between them.
She was a good liar. Too good, perhaps, because eventually, Jim began to wonder if it was true, and if the experience had been nothing to her.
Two weeks went by without any words between them, which was enough to make him realize that their experience might truly have been a one-time thing. It wasn't as though he wanted tod ate her, or have a relationship. But he wasn't sure what he did want—closure, perhaps, or some indication that he'd affected her like she affected him.
If he'd thought that fucking would stop her from invading his dreams and thoughts, he was wrong.
Finally, one day, he ran into her in the hall, alone. She glanced at him, but looked ready to pass him by without word. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"You know," he said, "we haven't really talked."
"Do we need to?" she asked, blankly, as though there was nothing they may need to discuss.
He tightened his grip on her arm. "Am I supposed to forget what we did?"
She looked up at him. "Yes."
She jerked her arm free. "It's your problem then, not mine."
He opened his mouth to reply, but somewhere down the hall, a gate opened, signaling that they'd have company soon.
Without another word, she walked away.
He almost believed her, until he found an envelope taped to his locker.