"I've ha
d better days."
"But would you say you're feeling any better?"
"I'd feel a whole lot better if I weren't stuck in these four walls."
"Can you move your arms for me?"
Lucien carefully lifts his arm, and slowly rotates it in a semi-circular motion. I notice that his range of motion is improving.
"I'm still in a lot of pain."
"Well, you aren't out of the woods yet," I remind him. "You'll have some discomfort for a few weeks."
"It's not discomfort, it's pain. I know the difference."
"Has your pain subsided at all?" I ask.
"Off and on, but I could use an extra aspirin."
For a moment I consider whether I should give him the extra aspirin. His fracture is healing, but he probably is still experiencing some pain to the area. There are a few pretty stringent rules regarding the amount of painkillers we can give to inmates. Most of the time it can fuel addiction, start an addiction, or be used as currency in a place like this. But I decide to give Lucien the benefit of the doubt.
"I'll give you an extra aspirin this time, but we've got to start cutting back."
"It's just an aspirin we're talking about."
"We have rules here, and I need to follow them," I remind him, but then soften my body language and tone a bit. "But I know you need it. So here you go."
He smiles and we hold each other's gaze for longer than usual. I try to imagine what he'd look like in a different set of clothes beyond the prison garb. Who would he be? Just another man walking down the street, or perhaps shopping for a box of cereal? Would I even turn my head to look at him?
"Do you have an extra paperclip that I could have?" he asks.
"Excuse me?" I reply. His question comes out of left field and breaks my thoughts. I'm no longer envisioning him strutting across a crowded city corner, or shopping for groceries.
"I write," he continues. "I mean letters, journal entries, and things like that. It'd be nice to have a paperclip to keep my papers together, you know?"
"I can't do that. I'm a medical assistant here to make sure you stay healthy. I'm not your secretary."
"Come on. Just this once. What's the harm in a paperclip?"
"You know as well as I do that anything in this place can be harmful."
"So, what are you saying?"
"The only thing I'm saying is no. Request denied, Stone. There won't be any paperclips today. I've been here for six months, and I plan to be here for a while longer. I'm not going to get fired on account of a single missing paperclip."
Lucien laughs. "Fair enough," he says. "I'll take the aspirin and get out of your hair."
I watch as the guard walks back into the room and replaces his handcuffs. Lucien flips his sandy brown hair out of his eyes and I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to be held between his strong arms.
That night, I return home and throw my keys and purse onto the kitchen table. I instinctually open the refrigerator and stare at the nearly bare shelves. There is a carton of eggs, a half loaf of bread, and a bag of carrots for when I'm trying to encourage healthy snacking. I realize I'm not hungry for any of this and close the fridge in disgust. I look at the stainless steel door and see grey. Damn it. That color again. Now I'm thinking of his granite-grey eyes and his strong arms. I'm remembering the outline of his cock when I x-rayed his chest, and the way it seemed to grow harder by the second. When I think about it, I realize I've never touched a cock that big in my life. Jonathan wasn't built like that. I wonder what it would feel like to take him inside of me. I feel a flush of desire wash over my body and I decide to take a shower. Maybe that'll help.
I undress and look at my body in the bathroom mirror.
If Lucien were free now, there’s no doubt somehow I would have found a way to bring him in here. That he would be standing next to me with his muscled body.
I place my hands over my breasts and imagine that they are his hands, his strong fingers, and imagine that he has me in his control and I feel my nipples harden. A tingle runs through my body and I feel myself getting damp. I need him. Whether he’s here or not.