The Cage (Book 2)

Prison Showers

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Prison Showers

The showers were not like I thought they would be. I was half sure it would be as dirty as the rest of this prison, but I was completely taken aback when I walked into the tiled space to find that it was spotless. Clean. It was a welcome surprise to say the least. The tiles covering the floor and walls were white with not a spot of dirt on them, and none of the showerheads were rusty or broken. Stalls that fit twenty inmates at a time lined either side of the walls.

My relief was short-lived, however. It didn't take me long to notice the missing stall curtains. There was absolutely no privacy. Anybody could walk in and see me washing my business.

Okay, I take it back. This is the worst place in the whole prison.

A lifetime of showering with my nakedness in full view to a bunch of criminals? Fuck that. I was going to master the art of washing myself down with a wet towel in my own cell!

As if reading my mind, Schneider said, "I can make it so that you're allowed in when everyone's eating."

A heavenly choir burst into song overhead.

"Seriously? Oh, man. Thank you." My relief was palpable. I wouldn't mind skipping breakfast to get some privacy in the showers. It was a sacrifice worth making.

Schneider began to undress. He pulled down the upper part of his jumpsuit, exposing an incredible, tanned body with washboard abs and bulging biceps. Holy hell. To my knowledge, people who looked like that existed only in heavily photoshopped magazines and airbrushed Instagram photos. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him; it was all pure, hard muscle. It spoke of an impressive, borderline religious discipline that few individuals possessed. As I blatantly stared at him in awe, the words 'human perfection' came to mind.

He toed his boots off and the muscles in his abdomen tightened deliciously. I briefly wondered what it would feel like to brush my fingers up and down that rock hard chest. When he reached to pull the jumpsuit down his lower body, his biceps flexing, I snapped from my state of reverie.

"W-Wait!" I cried, halting him. I belatedly realized that the heat pooling in my face was from a blush.

Schneider looked at me. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if he knew what I'd been thinking.

My cheeks nearly melted off the bone.

"What is it?" he asked, arching a questioning brow at me, his pewter gray eyes brighter than I'd ever seen them.

"Y-You're showering with me? But that kind of..."

Defeats the purpose of me skipping breakfast to shower alone.

I couldn't bring myself to say it, but Schneider understood what I'd wanted to say nonetheless. "You can't shower all alone. Someone's bound to wander in one day," he explained. "Besides, this is the time of day reserved for me. The entire block knows not to stick a head in if they don't want to lose it. This is the safest you'll ever be showering."

My protest died at my tongue.

It made sense to have someone watching my back, and who better than the King of the Prison himself. And it wasn't like I hadn't spent time in locker rooms in school and the gym. Oh, I'd seen my fair share of naked men alright. But none of those men were convicted criminals, some of which molesters and sexual predators.

Never again would I be led into a trap by someone who wanted to violate me. This I swore on my very soul.

"What are you in for?" I asked him point blank.

The suddenness of my question shocked Schneider momentarily.

He quickly regained his composure and asked, "Didn't you read my file?"

I did, and I did quite a bit of research on him, but half the information I found on him was useless, while the other half seemed to have been buried by someone influential and powerful. All I knew about him was that he was thirty-two years-old, male, six foot two, originally blond from his mug shot but would dye his hair black, and that he'd been sentenced to life in prison for multiple murders and assault charges.

"Murder, mostly."

That much I already knew.

"What were your reasons?"

"Gang-related, mostly."

"You're in a gang?" I'd read up on some rumors and speculation about this in the news, but it had never been confirmed. The prosecution hadn't been able to prove that Schneider Cross was a member of a gang and was acting on its interests at the time of the murders. To hear him confirm it with his own mouth was... huge.

"I'm kinda one of the leaders."

Holy shit. He was talking in the present tense. He was still a leader?

"Even with you in prison?"

"Especially because I'm in prison. This is where we make the most business."

"Doing what?"

"Selling drugs, mostly."

"You keep saying mostly..." Oh, this was a heady conversation to be having while trying to wash up. For all his saving graces, Schneider was still a criminal. Worse, he was a criminal mastermind.

Still, he'd answered all my questions without evasion or lies -as far as I could tell. It wasn't much, but it had to count for something, right? And something told me that I wouldn't be getting much honesty from anyone else here; prisoners tended to guard the reason for their conviction jealously. For sexual predators and pedophiles, it was a matter of life and death.

Truth be told, I didn't have much of a choice but to rely on him. Who else could arrange for exclusive use of the showers? Or rather semi-exclusive use.

Okay, so total privacy was out the window. I would have to settle for some privacy.

"You keep your back to me at all times." I told him, relenting.

Schneider chuckled and the heavy mood that had descended upon the place lifted like a spell. "Sure thing, Julian. And I'd kindly ask you to stop staring."

The blush was back and it was ten times redder and hotter. He'd caught me staring!

Embarrassed and flushing redder than a traffic light, I turned my back to him wordlessly and started taking my clothes off. I slipped my shoes off, followed by the shirt. I slipped fingers under the waistband of my pants, ready to slide them off, when I was suddenly aware of two hot pokers searing my back.

I froze as a thrill traveled the length of my spine. So much for keeping our backs to each other.

Against my better judgment, I looked over my shoulder to see that Schneider was now standing naked in the middle of the shower, his clothes neatly folded by the foot of a stall.

My God.

A literal Adonis stood behind me in all his naked, bronze glory. 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

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