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myself even as I reach to tangle my fingers in his dark, silky hair to pull him closer.
    Without breaking the kiss North starts to move, pushing, walking me backwards until I’m pressed up against one of the huge machines. He plants his left hand beside my head and continues to kiss me, as the other hand trails a leisurely path down my regulation-issue jacket to rest at my hip. He presses against me, the bulge of his erection unmistakeable against my lower abdomen. Without conscious thought I slide my hand between our bodies to reach for him, then stroke my fingers along the solid length of his cock.
    “Ah, Miss MacBride, that feels good.” His tone is low, a sensual murmur as he nuzzles my neck.
    “Yes, I—”
    “Anyone here? North? What are you up to?”
    I am jolted back to my senses as Jackson’s voice rings out around the utility room. His footsteps sound as he marches toward where we are concealed behind the industrial washer. I stare up at North, desperate now. We can’t be found here, together. We just can’t.
    North lays a finger over my lips to signal me to be quiet.
    He calls out to the other man. “I’m here. Won’t be a sec.”
    “Where’s the stuff for C wing?” We hear the sound of wheeled bins being shunted around as Jackson searches for his first delivery of the afternoon.
    “Over there, by the door.” Jared steps away from me, and winks. He actually bloody well winks at me before he turns and strides off to help the other man. By the time I peer around the edge of the washing machine North is ushering Jackson out of the room. He glances back over his shoulder and lifts a hand to me as he follows the other prisoner, leaving me alone to make my escape.
     
    * * *
     
    My heart is in my mouth as I clock on for my next shift. I can’t face North again after what happened yesterday, I just can’t. I report to the poky, cluttered wing office to learn that staffing levels are a little better so the lockdown is relaxed. Education is reinstated, and some free association is permitted for prisoners with enhanced status.
    I’m stationed on G wing as usual so I take up my normal position at the end of the recreation hall to keep an eye on things. Aside from my personal tribulations we’re still on alert for potential disturbances. The cell search of a couple of days ago did nothing to calm the prisoners’ mood and we all know that if there’s going to be trouble, it will start out here.
    Today though things seem unusually calm, and I spend an hour exchanging clipped pleasantries with the men who wander down toward my end. For the most part they are civil to me, and I find it works best if I return the courtesy. We all get along better then. Not all officers see the point in engaging in conversation with prisoners, an attitude I find frankly baffling. My more experienced colleagues such as Jim insist I’ll come around to their way of thinking eventually. I sincerely hope not.
    “Go on, you can take your break now if you like.” The wing supervisor, Mr. Drummond, has arrived to take over the watch. He’s an officer with twenty years under his belt and he reckons he knows everything there is to know about incarcerating offenders. He’s a great believer in keeping prisoners in line, showing them who’s boss, in whatever way seems to work. Mr. Drummond has been on report for using ‘excessive force’ a number of times and actually brags about it. He makes me nervous, and the men loathe him. But he’s in charge and I’m not, so I nod and move toward the outer gate.
    Then I pause, look back over my shoulder. I know Jared North isn’t in the recreation room because I’d have noticed—definitely. I escorted Bako, one of his cellmates, down to the education block earlier so he’s not going to be back for a while yet, and yes, the third man is playing snooker. That means there’s a reasonable chance I’ll find Prisoner KG8329 alone in his cell. I can’t avoid him so I might as well face the