The next week's scheduled time arrived, and Miss Nancy Leonard, a reporter for the Atlanta Journal-Courier, sat waiting for our meeting at the Georgia State Women's Prison visitation center. She dressed in a fashionable grey knit pantsuit and gold silk blouse, her brown hair held back by a faux tortoise shell comb. Her nails, although short, were professionally done with a stunning pink polish. Her makeup was professional and understated. She would be much prettier, I thought, with a bit of eyeshadow and brighter lipstick.

In contrast, I wore a thick, grey prison uniform consisting of a dark grey button-up shirt and a matching skirt that fell just below my knees. I used crushed pencil lead for mascara, and my lips were lightly stained with cherry powder from a Kool-Aid packet I bought at the prison commissary. Since our last visit, I was able to file my nails and even procure some lacquer to use as a clear nail polish.

"Good morning, Sugar."

"Hello, Nancy."

She offered me a plastic chair at the steel table, holding her files, notepad, pens, cigarettes, and a recorder. She sat down with a smile and handed me the pack of cigarettes. I nodded my thanks, removed one of the cigarettes from the package, put it between my stained lips, and held it between two fingers. Nancy politely lit it for me.

She pressed a button on the recorder and picked up her notepad. I cocked my head, glancing at the machine.

"Oh? Do you mind if I record you?"

I drew in the smoke and waited, not thinking about anything. I opened my mouth, slowly letting the smoke drift out. When it ceased, I smiled at the young woman and shook my head no.

"You were talking about your experience with Calvin Borne."

"Nancy, you are not going to use anyone's real name, besides mine or Hank's, are you?"

"Ah... I discussed that with my editor. He believes we shouldn't."

"Thank you." I paused, then began.

I told her I'd thought about Calvin often in the weeks afterward, how he had paid attention to me. I found that exciting. It was another Friday night when I was alone, and there was a loud knock at the door. I pushed the homemade curtains aside and peeked out the window to see the big man standing there.

"What do you need?" I asked him after I opened the kitchen door.

"I didn't hear music. Didn't know if anyone was home," Calvin said through the screen door.

"Opry is not on till later." I could smell the whiskey on him.

He nodded and tried to look over me into the living room, searching.

"Daddy's not here. He usually doesn't come home on payday till almost morning. It's just me."

"Yeah, I got paid today too."

"Do you want to come in?" I stood aside, my hand on the doorknob.

He pulled open the screen door, and the floor groaned when he entered the kitchen. I closed the kitchen door and went into the living room to offer him a seat in the big sofa-chair. He sank in the chair, somehow making it look small. I sat across from him, my hands between my legs on a light wooden chair from a long-forgotten tableset.

"I bought you these." He dug into his coat pocket, brought out a brown paper sack, and handed it to me.

"For me?"

He nodded. I opened it to peer inside the bag. The bag held a box with a pink ribbon on it. The box was labeled Conifer's Fine Chocolates in gold print under the pink ribbon. Surprised, I held it in my hands for a moment.

"I've had them before; they're good."

"Ah... thank you, Calvin."

We sat in silence for a moment. I pushed my boyishly long hair over one ear.

"Are you going to wear your dress tonight?" Calvin asked.

I thought for a moment before I asked him, "You want me to?"

He lowered his head and rubbed his big, calloused hands together before he answered me.

"I think you look pretty in it."

"Alright, Calvin. I will." I rose from the chair, and he started to stand up from the floral-covered sofa-chair. "You stay right here. I will be back, alright?"

"Ok."

I walked into my sister's room to her dresser, where I laid the box of chocolates. I removed the clean panties I discovered at the laundromat from the drawer. Along with the light cotton dress and white shoes from Alice's closet, I placed them on the bed. I yanked off my worn leather shoes and socks, followed by my t-shirt, patched jeans, and white cotton underwear to toss them on the closet floor. I slid the pink, nylon panties up my hairless legs to my hips, where they flattened my soft penis. I drew the dress over my head and arms to let it flutter down to my mid-thighs. I stepped into the used shoes I purchased, then walked over to the mirror on the vanity. I brushed my long hair, smoothing it out when I stopped to think for a moment. I untied the ribbon from the box. With precision, I tied the ribbon around my brown hair, finishing with a bow on top.

I held my breath and stepped out into the small living room. Calvin looked up from the chair and placed the whiskey bottle he held on the small table nearby. He stood; the giant loomed over me.

"My, you look pretty."

"Thank you," I replied nervously.

He moved closer to envelop my small, soft hands with his thick fingers. He returned to the seat and drew me to sit on his lap where I could feel his hard cock through his overalls. Carefully, as though I would break, he cupped my face and kissed me. As the seconds passed, his kisses became more passionate, his tongue pushed into my mouth, his hands traveled down my neck to my shoulders, holding me. He grew harder underneath me.

My own body began to respond. I could feel myself grow in the panties I wore. My soft dick was hard and leaking pre-cum in the smooth, nylon material. I raised my hands to open his shirt; my fingers drifted through his chest hair. I heard myself moan when he cupped my ass, his fingers kneading my cheeks. I rocked back and forth, grinding on his swollen groin.

"Oh, baby doll," he muttered.

Calvin took his hands off me, and I heard him unzip his overalls. He raised the hem of my cotton shift to reposition me on his lap. My eyes went wide when I felt his hard cock on my pantied bottom. Still, he kissed me as he began to slide his massive cock up and down between my nylon-covered ass cheeks; I could feel his pre-cum wetting them.

I drew back, my hands pushed against his chest. His dark brown eyes stared at me uncomprehendingly. I stepped off of his lap and lowered myself to my knees. From the magazines the guys at school shared, I knew what to do. I knelt before him, as if to pray, and I saw it for the first time. His cock was easily twice mine, long and thick with veins. It was a man's dick.

I could smell his sweat; it wasn't a bad smell, but different than mine. I put my trembling fingers around it and brought it to my mouth. My pink tongue darted out to wet the very tip, and I tasted his pre-cum. It was wet, salty. I continued to lick and clean his shaft, up and down. The magazines said men enjoyed it when women would put their cocks into their mouths. I did so. I took the large head of his dick into my mouth, sucking it. My saliva dripped from the corners of my lips and onto his hairy balls.

I glanced up at him. Calvin's head was back, his eyes closed, his hands gripped the arms of the sofa-chair. I didn't stop. I held his shaft with both hands and bobbed my head up and down on the man's dick. I felt him put his hand on my head, forcing me to let him go deeper into my mouth.

I felt my own lust growing. I slipped my hand under my white cotton dress and into the pink panties. With my thumb and index finger, I gripped my cock and began to pump it. I tried to align my masturbation to the rhythm with which I sucked Calvin. I paused momentarily to lick my fingers and replaced them in my panties.

"No, baby doll. Don't stop."

I didn't stop. I wanted him to like it. I wanted him to like me. I continued to suck. Suddenly, almost violently, he pushed my head down. Thick, salty streams of cum shot into my mouth and down my throat. There was this bleachy smell that filled my nostrils. I gagged and tried to pull back, but he held me firm.

"Oh no, baby doll, no."

I swallowed what I could, but I choked. Finally, he let me go, and I fell backward on the floor; his semen dribbled down my chin onto my dress. He sat there, eyes closed for a moment, then opened them to stare at me on the floor. He rose from the chair, zipped up his overalls, and took a swig from his pint on the table. He turned and left the house.

Almost every payday, Calvin would stop by. He'd bring me small gifts, a brush, a pin, or candy. Once he gave me nylons! Then one night everything changed; he gave me money. He didn't bring gifts anymore but left money on my nightstand.

I glanced up at the young reporter, gauging her response to my confession.

"Did you realize what your relationship had become?" Nancy asked.

"No. I was eighteen. What did I know of the world? I don't think Calvin thought of it that way. It was easier for him to give me money than buy a present. I think it was the nylon stockings. He was too embarrassed to buy me things like that."

The reporter nodded in understanding. I didn't think she understood. What did her privileged, upper-middle-class family know about being poor? They could read about it, watch it on television, but did they really know what it was like?

With the little money Calvin supplied, I was able to buy a few things. I bought a new dress, shoes, my first bra and panty set. Of course, all these things I hid from Daddy. I kept them in Alice's closet. Calvin was pleased with my purchases; he, especially, liked the lingerie. He wanted to see me in my bra and panties.

Then, Daddy came home one Friday night, early. I had supper waiting for him on the table, as I was supposed to. The kitchen door flew open, and he had this maniacal look on his face.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

"What, Daddy?"

"The boys in the railyard are laughing about you behind my back."

"You're drunk. Have some dinner."

He took one end of the table and flipped it up. Beans, cornbread, dishes, and coffee flew across the room. I dashed into the living room to escape from the mess. He pushed back his black mop of hair with one hand and stalked toward me. I raised my hand to stop him. He caught my arm, and with a single pull, tore my jeans down to the floor. I stood there in a lavender pair of women's panties.

He stood there stunned. Daddy backed out of the living room. He turned and left the house.

I stopped talking, and my face clouded over. I could feel tears filling my eyes. I looked away from the young reporter.

"Sugar? Are you ok?"

I silently nodded, composed myself, and continued.

I saved a bit of the money Calvin had given me; it was hidden in the flour can in the kitchen cabinet. I took an old suitcase and filled it with everything I owned: my dresses, stockings, shoes, brush, and pins. I hiked to the bus station downtown. I purchased a one-way ticket to Nashville. I was frightened; I had never been out of town before, but I knew I had to leave.

I felt Nancy's hand take mine. I tried to hand the pack of cigarettes back to Nancy, but she wouldn't take them. I watched her turn off the recorder and gather her papers. Before she left, she touched me on the shoulder.