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My liberal leanings had brought me to this place: one of the worst run prisons in my state. It was a minimum security prison. The smallest of the half- dozen state prisons, it was in a remote corner of the state. It seemed to have been forgotten by the state legislators and ignored by the general population. The warden wasn’t especially corrupt, but just didn’t give a fuck. As long as he got his salary he didn’t give a shit what happened, so the prison was run by the guards. None of them seemed brutally masochistic, but they were tough enough to keep the prisoners from running riot and taking over, plus they could all be bribed, so that drugs were smuggled in and many of the prisoners were high, contented and subdued. I was a high-school teacher certified to teach math and English, with a wide range of interest in other subjects, such as history, government and the sciences. I had read an article in the local newspaper stating that the vast majority of the prisoners had never finished high school. I got the idea that if I could get the youngest and less hardened ones to complete their education they would have a better chance of not being re-incarcerated upon their release. As I said, the warden didn’t care one way or the other what went on, as long as it didn’t affect him negatively, so I was able to convince him to give it a try. It was all voluntary, and wasn’t anything out of his pocket. Since this wasn’t State approved, I had to keep it under the radar. My plan was to convince the inmates to get a GED, and I would help them in any way I could. Since most of them were bored shitless it was at least something to do, and got them out of their cells. I had been at it for about six months, and had some success – enough to make me determined to keep on going, and more of the guys had joined in. I had also become known to the guards and they didn’t get in my way. In fact I had free access to just about all areas. After four or five months I became aware of a prisoner who was housed alone and never left his cell. With inquiry I found out his name was Walker, and he was considered violent. Almost all prisoners plus Avrupa yakası escort bayan guards were called by their last names. If someone came in who had the same last name as another inmate he then was called by both names, or by a nickname if he had one, or subsequently earned one. I later found out Walker’s first name was Walter. Walter Walker! The name Walter didn’t fit him at all, so calling him Walker was perfect. What got me so interested in him was that every day he was sitting on the bottom bunk of his bed, with his right hand shackled to the railing of the top bunk. It was obviously cruel torture. He was only unshackled when he had to use the toilet, or when he was allowed to bathe, and then he was accompanied by two guards. I convinced a guard to give me access to Walker. I was allowed to go in his cell unaccompanied. He was grateful to have someone to talk to, but I quickly found out he couldn’t use the help I was giving the other guys. He had graduated from high school and completed two years of college. When he was twenty-one he had fallen in with some gang-type thugs, and had tried to rob a bar. He had noticed a diamond engagement ring on a customer, and had attempted to take it. She had resisted, attacking him with her fingernails, and he had bashed her in the head with his gun. The bartender had pushed a hidden button that notified the police, and they were captured. Since he had no priors he had gotten ten years without parole, and had served eight. Although there was no reason for me to interact with him, I couldn’t get Walker out of my mind. I was two years older than he was and kept thinking how it would have been if the past eight years of my life had been spent in the God-forsaken Hell-hole. Part of my continued interest was in his horrible situation, and a part of it was his looks. Yeah, I readily admit it. He was good-looking, but also interesting-looking. His nose wasn’t large, but was slightly crooked, which kept him from being classically handsome. His hair was thin and straight, like straw. His face hardly ever showed any expression. Escort Ataköy It was all in his eyes. I continued to visit him, getting to know him better, gaining his trust, and getting him to accept me – as a friend. Although he was reserved and never opened up, over many conversations and repeated digging I found out the reason for his sadistic punishment was because he had rebuffed the sexual advances of a guard. Rebuffed probably isn’t the correct word, as he had violently rejected him. The guard had retaliated by cuffing him to the top bunk so every minute of his day was uncomfortable. Walker had retaliated by stoically enduring the punishment without complaining. That guard was no longer around, although I never knew what had happened to him, but in the regular insanity of this place, Walker’s punishment hadn’t been ended. He had been going through this daily torture for several months. Every day after my regular job at the high school I would spend four to five hours at the prison, teaching, helping students with problems and guiding them through paper work on their GED’s. But I always found time to visit with Walker before I left. I could tell that he had slowly come to anticipate my time with him, which gave me a large amount of secret pleasure. At one point I asked him how he kept fit. It was obvious even through the orange jumpsuit that he had a great body. He explained he was uncuffed at night and in the middle of the night he’d do push-ups and pull-ups using the bunk above. He’d run in place for half an hour. He’d pull the mattress off the cot and hold it doubled up on his shoulders and do squats. One day at the end of my visit I stood up and looked down at Walker. “You look especially tense today.” “For some reason my shoulder is killing me.” I didn’t know if this was a stab at mordant humor and I should laugh or not. He’d never said anything remotely humorous before. I let a smile flit across my lips. “Would you like a massage?” He let out a breath that might have been a laugh. “Sure.” He turned as well as he could and I got sort of behind him with one knee on the Şirinevler escort mattress. He was dressed in regulation prisoner garb of the orange jumpsuit, which was made of a course material. It wasn’t the ideal fabric or position for an effective massage, but I did the best I could, and he seemed to enjoy it. After about ten minutes I decided it was time for me to get out of there. I stood back up. He looked up at me and thanked me. They weren’t only words of appreciation, but the first words of any warmth I had heard him say. I didn’t respond. I just stood looking down at his upturned face, and then, inexplicably, I leaned down and kissed him on the lips. It was only a brief kiss, and he didn’t kiss me back. When I straightened back up he was still looking at me with the same expressionless face. I couldn’t tell what thoughts were in his eyes. I felt I was probably lucky he was handcuffed to the bed. I quickly said, “Good-bye,” and turned and called for the guard to unlock the cell door. I decided I’d better lay low, and skipped the next day, but that was agony. The day after that I figured I could take my chances, if I didn’t get within striking distance. When I stood outside the cell door waiting for the guard to open it Walker didn’t say anything. He sat motionless, expressionless as usual. The moment the cell door clanged shut behind me he said, “Where the fuck were you yesterday?” “I was giving exams to some of the guys,” I lied. “It took longer than I expected and I ran out of time. Sorry” We settled into our usual talk, with me asking him about his previous life. He seemed to like reliving his younger years of freedom. He often talked about the girlfriend he had loved and lost. I answered his questions about events beyond those walls. I noticed the top three buttons of his jumpsuit were unbuttoned and I could see he had a hairy chest. When my time was up he asked, “Could you massage my shoulders again?” I wondered what more was expected of me. Did he really want another kiss, or just a massage? Could he have remotely liked my kissing him? I wouldn’t let myself even go there. As I was massaging his shoulders and the back of his neck he leaned back into me. I was crazily emboldened and gave in to dangerous urges. I slipped my hands around and into the front opening of the jumpsuit, running them over his chest, feeling the soft hair, finding his nipples. He put his head back against my chest. I had lost all reason.
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