17 Can I ask you a question? (1/2)

By now he had clasped both hands into her hair and pressed her head against his loins in ever faster rhythm. Sam struggled to suppress the rising gag reflex and resist the urge to bite his teeth hard. Lapuente kept gasping harder and after a few endless minutes it was all over. He left Sam on the floor with his head bowed and closed his pants as he stepped behind the desk.

He pressed a button and a tinny voice sounded. ”Yes Boss?” Lapuente leaned over a thin microphone whose narrow staff hovered over the desk like a warning finger. ”Get our new entry and prepare everything for the reception.” Then he sank into his leather chair and smirked at Sam.

Sam got up. ”Can I ask you a question?”

Lapuente leaned forward expectantly in his chair. ”Not really, but since you did your job really well, go ahead.”

Sam threw her long hair back. ”You just called me a peacemaker, why?”

Lapuente bared two rows of bright white horse teeth. ”Ah, peacemaker, has not escaped your attention, has he?” He rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair and tapped the fingertips of his hands against each other.

”I was at a very interesting congress last year.” Lapuente turned the chair and looked out of the window. ”The referendum prison psychologist reported good sex experiences as a stress relieving factor for prisoners, and once a month the detainees were allowed to make sex visits, and since then, the male inmate's violence rate has dropped more than 70% since we've had female inmates for half a year I'm in the lucky situation of not having to waste taxpayers' money on professional ladies, by the way, the quack was right, and I've been able to substantially reduce the violence rate in my facility since we let our two inmate groups go once a week really appreciate that, the women ... ”

He spread his hands. ”It is her service to the society that has broken her.”

Sam stared at him incredulously. The office door opened and two prison guards entered the room. Lapuente gave them a short nod and told them to take Sam through the entrance exam.

Miguel's tips worked. The insults and personalities were limited and the silver tube disappeared undetected into the pocket of her dark gray prison attire. After four hours of entrance examination, she was taken to a solitary cell. As the door slammed shut and the guards moved away, Sam enjoyed her loneliness. By now it was 19:00. She had strangled the prison jail offered between two medical examinations.

Sam sat down on the rusty cot. No one had told her how long she had to stay here. She estimated that, since there had never been an official trial, Rodriguez's life expectancy. Sam remembered Anita's words, a maximum of six months, persevering.

With shaky fingers she fished the silver tube out of her trouser pocket and quickly stowed it in her pillowcase. She looked around her cell, so she would spend the next few months here. With outstretched arms, she could almost touch the walls on the left and right. Next to the rusty cot was a disgusting stained toilet, a sink and above it a mirror foil - no glass - to the luxurious interior.