Allie and Bea met in the showers, again, and Allie stared at Bea, again; she closed her eyes under the stream of water and waited for Bea. She had already fantasized about how things would play out: Bea would push her against the wall again. Or Bea would approach her cautiously and awkwardly, her towel clutched to her chest, asking: When you said the best sex happens in your head, what did you mean? But Allie opened her eyes and reached for her bottle of shampoo, and when she searched for Bea, she found her standing by the sink, not yet undressed, staring at her reflection in the mirror, uncertain, like she didn’t believe whoever looked back was really her.
Allie turned off the shower and dried off. She stood at the sink next to Bea, pretended to focus on combing out her hair. “Everything okay?” she asked Bea.
Bea didn’t answer.
“Anything I can help with?” She tried to laugh at herself but she was annoyed at how nervous she sounded. “So weighed down by all of your important secrets?" she tried again. "I’ve fucked a lot of people with secrets."
“When you were working?” Bea asked.
“When I was working… when I wasn’t working too.”
“Everyone has secrets,” Bea said defensively.
“I don’t,” Allie said, and kissed her. Bea didn’t stop her this time, and kissed back, but when Bea started shaking, Allie pulled away to look at her. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” Allie said, “But whatever you need that you think you couldn’t...”
“I couldn’t what?” Bea asked.
“Whatever you think you couldn’t ask for.” Allie dropped her towel to the floor, showing her body, all of it, to Bea. “I want you and everything else that goes along with you,” she told Bea; Bea looked at her surprised, like she was afraid to touch her, but Allie wasn't afraid. Allie took a step back. “Tell me what you want to do to me,” she said to Bea.
*
Bea said it before she did it. In the cafeteria in passing Allie touched her shoulder and Bea whispered it. In line for the phone, in line for the toilet. When Allie mentioned she needed her split ends trimmed and Bea offered and she washed Allie’s hair, and she could say much more.
"I wanted to hurt someone but—"
"You can hurt me," Allie said.
"There are these bad things I think about but—" Bea pulled the strands of Allie's hair, straightening them to determine their real length; she stared so intently; but she wasn't really looking at Allie's face, Allie had to remind herself.
"You can do bad things to me."
"Has anyone done anything like that to you before?"
"Yes," Allie said. "But it doesn’t matter. It’s different because it’s you."
"It’s nothing I haven't already done to myself," Bea said, and looked away.
"I know," Allie said.
*
Bea asked Maxine to keep watch so she and Allie could be together alone in her cell. She’s going to show me how to get myself off, she told Maxine, laughing. It was only a halfway lie. Allie wondered just how much noise leaked through those doors.
Once they were alone, Bea asked Allie to stand with her back against the wall, and Allie obliged; she could see, even in the dark, that Bea was shaking again.
“I’ve never done this before,” Bea said.
Allie lifted up her shirt, showing her bra and her bare stomach. “Where’s your knife?” she asked Bea.
“What makes you think I have a knife?” Bea asked, and they both started laughing.
“Bea, cut the bullshit,” Allie said. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. Come here.”
Bea removed the knife from the inside of her pants, stared at her trembling hands as if to will them to remain calm. “No one tells me what to do,” Bea mumbled, more to herself than to Allie. She said it again but louder. “No one tells me what to do.”
"No, they don't," Allie said, with a thrill that puckered her skin.
Bea grabbed Allie’s hair, pulling Allie’s neck back so Allie had to stare at the ceiling. Allie’s breathing changed then, getting heavy, but she closed her mouth trying to stay quiet. Bea traced the knife down Allie’s stomach, pulling down Allie’s pants, and even Allie was surprised when it began to dig in, harder than she expected, breaking into the skin of the outside of her thighs. “That hurts,” Allie said, not a warning. She felt something hot rush down her leg, probably her own blood.
She tried to get a look at it, but Bea growled, “You better keep still.” Bea straightened up to pull Allie’s hair again.
“So if I don't keep still, then what?” Allie asked. She reached out to feel the inside of Bea’s sweatpants, inside her underwear, between her legs. She had been right before—Bea was getting wet.
Bea withdrew suddenly, pushing Allie’s shoulders to turn her around, forced her against the wall again, this time Allie’s face squashed against the cold cement.
“What’s wrong with you?” Bea whispered, baffled, angry, pushing harder. “Why would you get off on this?”
“Why would you?” Allie whispered back.
*
-to be continued, probably!-