Occupying the bed on my left side, with a space of about four feet between us, was a girl named Hester. She was but a few months older than I, but much more so in experience. She was taller than I and very pretty. Her hair, which almost reached to her knees when unbound, was that beautiful shade of auburn which just misses being black by the narrowest margin. She had been very nice to me from the start and had given me much kind and useful advice. She was philosophical in her attitude and possessed of an extremely likeable personality. Nearly all the girls in this reformatory owed their commitment to delinquencies of a sexual nature. Hester had been taken out of a house of prostitution.
She questioned me as to how much money I had been accustomed to get for the bestowal of my favors and when I told her, ruefully, that though my last and fatal adventure had brought me ten pounds, I had rarely gotten over ten shillings, frequently far less, and sometimes nothing at all, she exclaimed:
“Why, you little fool! With your form and baby face you could earn fifteen or twenty pounds a week. In the place I was last I got a pound every time I did it beside what the madam got, and lots of times I got more than that! Why, you were just a little charity chippy!”
One night, taking advantage of the snoring matron's somnolence, we whispered stories and experiences until eleven o'clock. The ward lights were out at this hour, but the shaded lamp near the matron's bed gave just enough light to break the darkness. Hester suddenly kicked off the bed coverings and, stretching her legs out lasciviously, exclaimed:
“Oh, Lord! For a good stiff cock!”
I murmured some sympathetic rejoiner as, lying on my side facing her, I observed her pretty round legs dimly visible in the half darkness.
“Gee, don't you ever get that way, Jessie? Sometimes I want to fuck so darn bad I nearly go crazy!”
“Who wouldn't, locked up in this miserable place month after month?” I answered gloomily.
She sighed, and after a moment of silence, whispered:
“Did you ever kiss the baby in the boat, Jessie?”
“Did I ever what?”
“Kiss the baby… suck another woman.”
“No!”
“I never did, either. But there are girls here that do. I sucked a guy's cock once. I didn't like it much, but if I had one now I could eat it alive.” She giggled faintly.
“Well, I don't know what you're going to do. Go hungry, I guess.”
“I darned well know what I'm going to do. It's better than nothing!” she exclaimed, and arching her legs she placed a hand over her cunny and began to rub it vigorously.
From around us came the sound of suppressed giggles, sighs, and the movements of other listeners as they stirred uneasily in their own narrow beds.
I watched the rapid movement of her hand, dimly visible in the partial darkness. And when, with a groan of satisfaction, the movements ceased, my own hand edged down between my legs and under discreet cover sought to quench in like form the fires her frank words and franker actions had aroused.
What she had said about girls who did certain things was true. To be caught in another girl's bed or in any other compromising circumstance indicating that something of this kind was going on was one of the things that girls could be whipped for, and two or three of the whippings which took place while I was there were for exactly this cause.
Nevertheless, something of this kind was going on most of the time without the matrons knowing about it. Sometimes the girls would take a chance in the nighttime while the ward matron was asleep and get two in a bed, but this was very dangerous because the switch which controlled the lights was right near the matron's hand, and she could flood the room with light instantly should she hear any suspicious sound.
There was a safer way. In each ward there was a linen-room where clean sheets, pillowcases, towels, and extra blankets were kept. It was a very small room, mostly filled with shelves, but there was a little extra space. The doors to these closets were kept locked, but the keys were in the possession of linen-room girls, or trusties, assigned to distribute towels, sheets, pillowcases, etc., as needed in their respective wards.
If satisfactory arrangements could be made with a linen-room girl, the door would be left unlocked, and when two lovers had slipped inside unobserved by matrons, she would lock the door, leaving them inside for half an hour or so, and when the coast was clear, let them out and lock the door again.
Some weeks before my entry in the reformatory, there had been a linen-room rendezvous of this kind in another ward and the lovers had been caught. It came about through a peculiar accident. A matron, coming down the long corridor between wards, saw a girl she wished to speak to entering a certain ward. She followed her, but when she got inside the ward the girl she had seen was not visible, which mystified her, and with good reason. The girl she was following and a companion were already locked inside the linen closet. Seeing the linen-room girl standing nearby, the matron asked her if such and such a girl had not come in a few moments before.
“No, ma'am,” was the reply. “She isn't in here. She must be out in the yard, or downstairs.”
“But I'm positive I saw her come in here not half a minute ago!”
“It must have been someone else, ma'am!” answered the frightened girl.
“Someone else? There's no one else in here but you! What's going on here, anyway?”
The puzzled matron glanced around the empty dormitory. Her eyes fell on the door to the linen room. She went to it and tried it. The door was locked.
“Give me the key to this door,” she requested.
“I… ah, I've lost it, ma'am!” stammered the poor girl.
“Give me that key!”
Inside the linen room two trembling lovebirds were listening to the ominous conversation. Naturally, when the matron opened the door and found not only one girl but two, she grasped the situation and both the lovers and the linen-room girl were strapped over the table in the superintendent's office and whipped on their bare bottoms.
For a while after this a watch was kept on the linen rooms, but the vigilance gradually relaxed and now they were being used again with considerable frequency.
There was Heloise, whom everyone called Frenchy, who would suck another girl off for any trifling payment. And several others who were known or suspected of similar complacencies.
Hester, who had become my special pal and confident, used to joke with me in her dry, half comical, half serious way, as we sat on the edges of our beds at night before lights out.
“Darn you, Jessie, you give me a hard-on every time I see you undressed. I believe I'll sneak into your bed some night and give you a good fucking.”
“I don't think you've got what's needed!” I replied, snickering.
“Well, I could gamahuche you, anyway. Do you think you'd like that?”
“Gosh, I don't know. Two different fellows I went with did it to me that way. I don't know how it would be with a girl.”
“Must give one a funny sensation to have another girl do that to you. There are women who pay for it that way. And maybe you don't believe it, but there are even some that will pay you just for letting them do that to you, without you doing a thing. Some people have the funniest ideas.”
I told her about the fellow who had paid me to whip him.
“That's nothing,” she replied, “there are lots of men like that. The ones you have to be careful about are the ones that want to whip you. Some of them go crazy and whip you so hard the blood comes. They don't care how much they hurt you.”
“Why, I wouldn't let them whip me!” I exclaimed, horrified.
“Well, when you're in a sporting house you have to do everything and pretend to like it. Those fellows who do funny things are generally the best spenders. They're always springing something new on you, too,” she continued, “the best paying regular I had was one of the funny kind; you'd never guess what I had to do with him.”