Corrine

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Corrine
by Klick
First Posted September 8, 2000 Updated June 21, 2007

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It was twenty five years ago last July, but the memory of that hot summer morning is vivid today as last week. Whenever I walk into a stifling hot room or smell the musky aroma of a girl's perspiration or hear the sound of jingling chain or the name Corrine, the memory comes rushing back and makes me smile and reminds me how fortunate I was to be in the right place at the right time.

I'm older now. If faced with the same situation today, I'm certain I would behave much differently. I'd be more cautious. I'd consider the consequences, and I'd probably turn down the opportunity. But I was much younger then. I had sex on my mind and engaged in it every chance I got, and Corrine was a woman who had a very good reason to ask for what only I could have given her at that very special time in both of our lives.

I was attending college part time, working towards an engineering degree and supporting myself and gaining practical experience as an air conditioning service technician. One of the service contracts assigned to me was a women's detention center located just south of the city of Miami Florida. I serviced the air conditioning for the entire complex, including the administrative buildings as well as the confinement areas.

It was no accident I had been chosen as the lead service tech on this particular job. When the company was awarded the service contract I immediately volunteered for the position. I'd offered that I lived only two miles from the facility and would be in a position to respond quickly to any emergency they might have. I also had a broad background in the particular brand of equipment that was installed there. My service manager agreed, and I was assigned the lead responsibilities for the Florida State and Dade County Women's Diagnostic and Detention Facility.

What I failed to mention in my quest to get this position was that, to quote Stephen King, "I've always been a sucker for a woman in chains." And what better place to see them that way than in a women's prison?

I was not disappointed either. I visited the jail at least once a week to address some problem with the multitude of mechanical systems under my responsibility and rarely failed to see at least one female in handcuffs, sometimes leg irons or combinations of restraints as they were being moved from one area to another. Sometimes I would witness new arrivals just beginning their sentences, being taken from vans or buses, shuffling along in their shackles with their hands cuffed to transport chains around their waists. I never missed the opportunity to watch them pass if they were being escorted near where I happened to be working. I would see their faces and watch them turn their eyes if they looked up to see me watching them. The sun would sometimes catch a handcuff and gleam brightly against their skin. Some were not the most beautiful women in the world, but there was a fair number that were young and attractive despite the unstylish blue denim dresses they wore. When I would see an especially cute girl clinking along on the walks or down a corridor near me, I would fantasize about what it would be like to make love to her while she was in chains and locked in a cell with no guards around. But it was all fantasy, and there was some guilt on my part when I would think that I was actually deriving entertainment from their misfortunes. Many of the girls there had lost their freedom due to circumstances that could happen to anyone. Being with the wrong guy when he robbed a store or convicted of a felony because of possession of small amounts of illegal drugs. But even though I felt sorry for some of them and had occasional twinges of guilt, it didn't stop me from enjoying the sight of them whenever they were in restraints.

As time went on the prison population increased and it was soon faced with overcrowding problems. The general detention cells were originally designed to hold only one inmate, measuring a scant six feet by nine feet, there was little room for two women when the decision was made to double bunk the cells and place two girls in an area designed to house only one. Eventually a lawsuit was brought against the state over the restricted confinement space and they were forced to finance construction of a new building that would increase the number of cells and allow roomier quarters for those confined there.

Until the completion of the new building the state obtained three modular units specially designed as jails that could be erected on a permanent foundation in as little as two days. These prefabricated structures would serve as bed space for thirty six inmates; twelve cells to a building and could be used as permanent confinement quarters even after the new building was finished. Each unit was delivered in sections, and once assembled required only hook-up of water, sewer and electricity to make them fully functional jails. They each were equipped with their own air conditioning systems, a necessary option in south Florida, and once supplied with electricity required a qualified service technician to perform certain start-up procedures to put them into operation and to activate the factory warrantee. With the completion of the first building I was called in to do those tasks. Two weeks later the second building had been set up and a week after that the third and final pre-fab jail was ready for my services.

I arrived at the sight at about nine that morning. After signing in at the gate and awaiting my escort it was close to ten by the time the guard and I arrived at the newest of the three modular buildings in two electric golf carts that were used to get around the sprawling complex. Aggie, a stout black woman of undetermined age was one of the prison guards with whom I'd established a good rapport, produced a large key from her ring of similar keys and unlocked the heavy, reinforced door at the front of the unit where I was to work.

"There you go Sweetie." She always called me "Sweetie." "I've got rounds to do and you don't need me hangin' over your shoulder anyway. There's a phone inside at the guards table, and you can call up the main desk if you need anything."

"Thanks, Aggie. I probably won't need anything. Will you check back with me later, or should I just leave when I'm finished?"

"Sweetie, you know your way around this old place as well as I do. You don't need me to escort you out." Aggie laughed, one of those belly shaking laughs that sound sincere and made me want to hug her every time she did it.

I thanked her again and watched her drive away in the cart as I hoisted my tool bag and the other things I'd brought with me from my service van and headed for the door of the unit.

When I pulled the door open I was struck with a wave of heat. It was still early but the south Florida summer sun was well up in the sky, and any poorly or non-ventilated building would naturally be hot and stuffy under those conditions. That's why I was there, to start the air conditioning and ready the building for it's unfortunate occupants.

I had worked at the prison long enough to be very familiar with procedures. Whenever it was necessary for me to enter an area occupied by the women prisoners, Aggie or whichever guard was my escort would first yell out, "Man in the building!" This was the signal to let the inmates know to cover themselves or at the least know that they could possibly be seen by a man. Often this would produce a chorus of crude remarks from some of the women, "Right here baby, I'm waitin!" or "Just put him in my cell, I'll do the rest!" I never knew what invitations I would get from the ladies when I walked past their cells. Often a hand would be extended through the bars eager for just the touch of a male hand. The more bold would sometimes give me a display of bare breasts and sometimes more. This conduct was officially prohibited, but it was considered a minor offense, and because I was never offended, it was never punished. With my knowledge of the procedures, and because Aggie had not mentioned that there were prisoners in the building, I had no reason to expect that it should be occupied. With the inside temperature in the high nineties it was even more confirmation that the unit was empty and I would be alone as I worked.

These modular units housed twelve cells each, arranged in rows of six down the sides of the rectangular structures. The two rows of six by nine foot cubicles were separated by a wall that ran down the center of the building. A girl in a cell would be unable to see anything outside of her cell except this wall or the ceiling. All illumination was from fluorescent fixtures recessed into the ceiling of the center corridors and none in the individual cells. At the opposite end from where I had entered was a space dedicated as a small guard station that held a built in desk. It was toward this room I was headed, because a portion the air conditioning unit was housed in a space behind a removable wall section within it.

As I reached the door of the small room and set my tools down I noticed a note, handwritten, attached to the door. Being naturally curious and thinking maybe the note was instructions from an electrician to me, I plucked it down and read the rough scrawl.

"Corrine Stapelton, in #1, transported in last night from Georgia, court tomorrow nine AM, paperwork at main desk." The note was not signed or dated and I was ready to disregard the message when I heard something that momentarily stunned me. I was supposed to be alone but from behind came the unmistakable sound of jingling chain and a girl's voice.

"Are you going to fix the cooling?" There was an almost desperate sound to her question and with good reason. The thermometer on the thermostat had past ninety degrees, and there were no windows that would open in the building.

I spun around to look down the row of cells across from those I had passed coming in and was greeted by a vision I will never forget as long as I live.

She was standing at the door of the first cell, her small hands grasping the bars and looking out at me with an expression of fear and exhaustion. She was wearing a light blue denim dress, similar to the ones worn by the inmates, but hers looked to be a couple of sizes too small. In the sweltering heat she was perspiring profusely, and there were crescent shaped sweat stains under her breasts accentuating their already ample roundness. She had long brown hair that stuck to her face and neck in wet curls and streams. Sweat ran down her forehead forming little diamond droplets that threatened to drip into large brown eyes that peered out at me helplessly from within her tiny prison.

My eyes scanned the unbelievable sight before me. In less than a second I determined that not only was she incredibly beautiful, but she was also confined in restraints. A chain encircled her waist with a handcuff attached at each hip which in turn locked around her slender wrists. Her ankles carried a set of heavy looking leg irons. There was a long section of chain dangling behind her from the one around her middle that was responsible for the jingling whenever she moved.

My surprise at seeing her there showed in my response to her question. "Ah, ah, I, I didn't know there was anybody here!" I blurted out clumsily. "Ah yeah, that's why I'm here, ah how long have you been in here?"

She licked away the perspiration from her full lips before answering.

"They brought me in here last night. I don't know what time it was, but it was late. It was hot in here then. They said someone would be here to fix the fans, but nobody came. You're the first person I've seen today. It's really hot, and I can't reach the button to get a drink of water or splash my face." She pulled at her handcuffs to demonstrate her limited reach. The wash basins in the cells had small button activated faucets. The water only ran as long as the button was pressed. With her hands separated by the transport chains and locked around her waist she could not reach the button and the running water from the faucet at the same time.

"You haven't seen any guards today? They didn't even bring you breakfast?" I was beginning to suspect that I was in a situation that seemed impossible.

"No. I told you, you're the first person I've seen since they locked me in here last night. They brought me here from Georgia. I was supposed to go to court today, but I think they forgot about me or something."

I was thinking the same thing. If Aggie had known this girl was in the building, she would have bellowed out her usual warning, and it would have been accompanied by her command to "Leave the man alone while he works." There had been a major SNAFU. The girl I now assumed to be Corrine Stapelton was standing in front of me, sweating in her chains, locked in a cell and apparently forgotten by an inept late shift guard who had neglected to pass on the information regarding a newly arrived prisoner who had been temporarily housed in the new building. It would have had to have been an extraordinary set of circumstances that would have allowed such an oversight to occur. The mere fact that Corrine had not even been fed would have left the state open to possible legal action, let alone leaving her locked in an unventilated building in the summer, alone and unsupervised.

My heart suddenly went out to this poor girl standing before me. She looked so helpless yet so beautiful at the same time. There was a part of me that wanted to do something immediately to help her, and that should have been to go to the phone in the guards room to notify someone that she was there. Yet there was something else in me that wanted this time alone with Corrine to go on forever, her standing there, sweating in those restraints behind those bars was the most erotic sight I'd ever had the pleasure to behold.

"Let me see if I can help you till someone comes," I offered and turned and stepped into the restroom provided for the guards. There were paper towels and cups in there. I folded several towels and soaked them with cold water, then filled one of the cups and took my offerings back out to the waiting prisoner.

I handed the water to her through the bars and then felt foolish as she attempted to drink from it. Her cuffed hand, held down by the waist chain, could just barely reach high enough for her to touch the cup with her lips. She made a gallant effort to drink till I reached back through and took the cup and held it for her.

"Sorry," I said, and she smiled at me. The cup emptied quickly, and she hoarsely asked for more. I told her I would get her all she wanted but offered to wipe her face with the wet towels first.

She stood next to the bars letting me run the dampened towels over her skin, wiping away the sweat from her face and neck and pressing her cheek against my hand as I did. She produced a small whimper of pleasure at this offering of kindness then opened her eyes to stare directly into mine.

"That's really sweet. Thank you," she spoke in a husky voice that I wasn't sure was her own or a product of the overwhelming heat she had been forced to endure for the last several hours.

"I'll get some more water for you, Corrine," I said, not thinking. When I came back with two more small cups of cool water she looked at me quizzically through her bars.

"How did you know my name?"

Realizing my assumption was now correct I went to the note and brought it back for her to see.

"I just assumed this was you. This building was only finished yesterday, and I don't think there's been anyone else locked in here yet."

She read the note and nodded.

I had re-wet the towels and had moved from her face and neck to the top of her chest stopping just short of letting my fingers and the wet towel slide below the seam of her dress.

She made no offer that she would have stopped me if I had.

I moved away from this sensual area to do her arms from her shoulders to her hands. I was mesmerized by those cuffs locked around her slender wrists. I had looked at dozens of pictures in magazines and seen numerous prisoners at the jail wearing them, but this was the first time I'd ever touched a girl in handcuffs, and now I was actually moving hers aside to wipe under where the steel confined her. The feeling of her small soft hand in mine contrasted with the hard steel of the cuffs locked implacably on her. It was an exciting moment. Closely examining Corrine's restraints I could see that they were applied quite snuggly. Not so tight as to cause her pain, but certainly they had been put on and squeezed down enough that she had no hope of slipping them off over her hands.

There were twin marks around her wrists where the cuffs had been and I had to remark, "These probably aren't a lot of fun to wear are they?"

She looked down at her hands as I wiped her wrists and lightly tugged at her restraints. "They're not as bad as having them cuffed behind my back, but these get uncomfortable after a while, cause I can't raise my hands any higher than this," she lifted her arms till the chain around her waist stopped her, "and my shoulders are tired."

"How long have you been in these?" I asked, knowing that at the very least she had spent the night in her restraints.

"They put them on me in Atlanta. Let's see, that was Tuesday, then they drove me down here. What day is this?"

I was astounded. It was Thursday. This girl had been in handcuffs for nearly three days, and Heaven only knew when she had eaten last. I finished wiping her arms then went to replenish the towels again.

When I came back this time I stood for a moment and reached to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. She moved to touch my other hand with hers as I rested it on a cross brace of her cell door. She looked up at me with a forlorn expression that made me want to take her in my arms and tell her everything would be alright. But that was not to be. We were separated by a wall of one inch steel bars spaced four inches apart, and I wasn't at all sure that things would be alright for her for some time to come. She wasn't wearing handcuffs or locked in her cell for some kinky games. She was, in fact, a convicted felon and would quite possibly be spending many months or years behind similar steel bars before everything would be alright for her again. My heart was still aching for this beautiful, helpless female just inches yet fathoms from me.

I knelt in front of her with the newly moistened towels and began to wipe away the perspiration from her lower legs. She was wet all over from sweat and that on her legs ran down and dammed up momentarily at her shackles before continuing down to her blue, prison issue sandals.

I looked up at her and let my hand go a little higher up under her dress.

"Feel good?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Corrine stepped as close to me as the bars would allow and spread her legs nearly to the limits of her irons.

"I've never been so hot in my life. Or cooled off so nicely. If there was any way I could get this dress off I'd let you do me all over," she answered looking down to where I knelt at her feet. She grasped the bars with her hands and leaned back, making a hiss between her clenched teeth as I let my hand move up her thigh till it brushed against the crotch of her panties.

"Oh God," she whimpered in that Kathleen Turner voice as I let my hand continue it's exploration of her inner thighs and finally pressing firmly up into her with my palm wrapped around the front of her puss.

"Oh. Oh, is there any way you can get my cell open?" she managed between gasps, "because if you can't, I want you to fuck me through these bars. I probably won't be able to even touch a man for at least three years, and if we could find a way, this would sure mean a lot to me." She was sounding almost as desperate as I was feeling. I stood and jerked against the barred door and found it and it's lock as formidable as all the rest around the prison. Pre-fab or not, this was a jail, and it was designed to keep it's prisoners locked up till there was a key available to open it. There was no key, and I knew she wanted me as badly as I wanted her.

At that point I should have seriously examined the situation and given thought to what I was being asked to do and to what I knew I would do, if we could manage it. But as I said at the beginning, I was young. Sex was something that I indulged in at every possible opportunity, and there I was inches away from this luscious female, lusting for me as much as I was for her. All that stood between her and I were some steel bars. I gave no thought to the threat of disease or the legal ramifications. If we were discovered, it might well add to Corrine's sentence, and I could have found myself in a cell of my own. At the very least, I might have finished the day unemployed.

But none of these things were any concern to me at that moment. Nor were they anything my lover worried about, because despite the fact that she was locked in her cell and chained, we made love. In what surely must have been one of the most difficult positions ever imaginable, Corrine's restraints dictated that I hold on to her through the bars. I reached through and cupped her firm rear in both my hands, and she held on to the door with hers.

The room temperature must have been over one hundred degrees by the time we finished, and I was as wet as she had been at the beginning with sweat running down our bodies, mingling with each other’s. Corrine could not remove her dress because of her cuffs, so I'd rolled it up and tucked it under the chain that encircled her waist. She had stepped out of her panties with one foot which left them bunched up at her leg chains, and I had left my clothes in a pile off to one side.

We pounded away at each other unmindful of the steel rods between our bodies. I carried bruises in my groin for a week afterwards, and I'm sure she must have too. She squealed and threw her head back, gritting her teeth and looking at me with a stare of wild abandon.

Corrine had her first orgasm almost as soon as I entered her, hissing and tossing her long, perspiration soaked hair as we thrusted in passion trying for as much stimulation as our position would allow. Corrine's chains responded to her movements by keeping up a chorus of metallic jingling from the one dangling behind her and where her waist chain contacted the bars between us.

The sights and smells, the sounds and memories of that frenzied coupling still live vibrantly with me today.

When we were both spent, we stood for long moments gazing into each other’s eyes. Her sweat was even more prevalent than when I first saw her and running down her body to mix with mine. I slowly released my hold on her, and she rested her cheek against the bars that had kept us separated.

I went to wet several more towels and bathed us both before helping her get her dress and panties back where they belonged and getting dressed myself. I gave her more water to drink and then asked if she wanted me to call the guards to let them know she was there.

"Just tell them to bring a key to this damn cell, -- and these," she rattled her cuffs at me and smiled. In the afterglow of what would prove to be my most memorable sexual encounter, I hugged her and she kissed me long and warmly.

"Thanks, thank you very much, I'll never forget you for that." She raised her hand as high as her cuffs would let her and touched my chest.

"I wish I could hug you."

Her imprisoned condition had been responsible for our coupling and paradoxically had prevented us from doing all the things we would have liked to do. Had she been free, we would have most likely enjoyed each other many more times that day, but had she not been a prisoner in that jail, we probably would have never met.

I did call the guards, and within minutes of my call they arrived to take Corrine away. If I live to be one hundred, I will always remember her face as she turned to look back at me when they led her, still chained, out of the building. Her eyes longed to acknowledge what we had shared, but for her own sake as well as mine, she made do with an expression of sincere appreciation and maybe even love.

I finished the task that I had come to do and left the prison that day with a emotions ranging from high elation to deepest remorse for the girl that would by now be locked in another cell for probably the next three years.

I never saw Corrine again after that July morning. I asked Aggie about her once and was told she had been transferred to another facility in northern Florida closer to her native Georgia home for humanitarian reasons. She apparently had an ailing mother who could not make the long trip to south Florida to visit her daughter. Someone in the prison system had a compassionate moment and agreed to relocate her to a closer facility. I also learned that she was convicted as an accessory to a robbery when a boyfriend had held up a gas station. Corrine was identified as being the girl in the car with him.

I think of Corrine often and wonder what became of her. Did she get out of prison and lead a quiet, productive life? or did incarceration sour her? Did she return to prison, bitter and aging? Wherever she is and whatever she is doing now, I have to wonder if she has a fond memory of that hot July day in Miami. I hope she does.

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