The Mistri Virus

  A small guard was coming toward him; they watched each other as he came closer. “Mistri?” he asked when he was within about ten feet.

  Tommy smiled at the short, slim, red-headed, green-eyed guard and said, “Yes.”

  “I’m Officer Clark; I will be your escort for today. I will assist you in getting settled in here and show you around.”

  “Alright,” Tommy said, thinking the guard was small and feminine enough, not to mention pretty enough, to be a woman. As he led the way down the hall, Tommy thought his walk was also feminine enough for a woman. Tommy guessed the guard was a flaming homosexual. Oh well, he thought, to each his own. Musta been a genetic mix up somewhere along the line.

  “Follow me. I will get you in-processed, clothing and show you to your quarters, however temporary they may be.”

  “The Warden said that staff members were not to speak to me at all on pain of instant termination,” he said walking beside the feminine guard.

  “I don’t know sign language or read minds good enough to carry on a conversation with you. If you do, that is. Which I doubt very seriously. I assume you are neither?”

  “No,” Tommy smiled.

  “Then we must vocalize, even if he fires me. Which he would quickly learn was a ‘major’ mistake! So, I will talk and you will listen. I will lead and you will follow. You will get your clothing, food, rest, shower, etcetera, etcetera, in the same place every day. The Warden is just blowing off steam. He has many enemies here. He is what the inmates call a ‘true blue’ piece of shit! If he should come into population unescorted by at least ten or more staff, he would not leave alive. Or at least uninjured. So, he hates everyone. His precious staff included.”

  “Strange man,” Tommy replied.

  “The staff assumes he’s gay. Or at least has some very strange sexual hang ups. No one knows for sure. But it’s suspected. Just rumors so far. But, eyes are watching and waiting,” the guard continued softly as they passed a group of eight inmates talking loud and play wrestling - ‘grab-assing,’ as it is known inside.

  As they passed the inmates Tommy heard one of them say, ‘fresh meat’. Another said ‘fish!’ And someone else said something about ‘getting some of that!’

  “Pay them no mind,” Clark smiled. “They are the gay brigade. They are not who you should be concerned or connected with. Those are coming up now.”

  He saw another group of much rougher and meaner looking men up ahead. They were all tattooed, muscle-bound, shaved head with bandannas. They all watched closely as Tommy and Clark approached. The leader stepped out in front of Tommy and crossed his arms across his massive chest. He puffed it out, flexing his muscles. “Just who the fuck are you, asshole?” he said, as Tommy stopped in front of him.

  “Your worst nightmares come to life,” Tommy said looking the man directly in the eyes.

  “Well now, ain’t you some bad som’bitch!” the man laughed, joined by his followers, as he began to reach his arm out to push Tommy’s shoulder.

  There were three loud and very distinct pops and one loud, long, ear splitting, high pitched scream as Tommy stepped back and allowed the injured man to fall to the floor.

  “Anyone else?” Tommy asked, looking at the other men staring wide-eyed at their fallen leader.

  Their leader lay on the floor, moaning loudly. He rocked from side to side, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder, arm and knee.

  Tommy and Clark walked on when he decided there were no takers in the crowd of bad asses.

  “What did you do, besides make a deadly enemy? You will have to watch your back from now on! He’s a ‘lifer’ and is suspected of killing four inmates since he’s been locked up. He will kill you or have you killed,” Clark continued seriously.

  “It will be a while. He’ll have to heal up first. I figure fifteen to twenty weeks should just about do it, more or less,” he replied as if in no way concerned.

  “He’ll send someone.”

  “Not one of those,” Tommy laughed. “They done saw the elephant!”

  “Saw the what?” Clark asked.

  “Never mind,” Tommy smiled.

  “Anyway,” Clark continued. “He’s not the worst. We have a lot worse here. Rapists, murderers, cannibals; we even have one here for narcolepsy! You know, sex with the dead? Gross!” Clark grimaced, shaking all over like a wet dog. “000hhh000hhh! I can’t even imagine it! He owned a funeral home!”

  “Hopefully, he will never get out,” Tommy said, knowing Clark meant Necrophilia.

  “He’s getting out in about a month,” Clark said.

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh, he will.”

  “Maybe,” Tommy repeated.

  “Here’s clothing issue. We’ll get you fixed up and get you a cell. I’m sure you’re tired.”

  “I could use a shower and some rest.”

  “Shower’s in here. You can shower first. I need your sizes so they can get your clothes fixed up to fit properly.”

  “Shirt eighteen and a half, thirty-six. Pants thirty-four thirty-eight. Weight two-twenty. Shoe size ten-and-a-half double-D. Anything else?”

  “Height?”

  “Six six.”

  “That’s about what I figured,” Clark smiled, looking him up and down. “Jesus H. Christ!” Clark said, watching Tommy remove his shirt.

  “I work out,” Tommy explained.

  “Damn, I guess!” Clark said, admiring Tommy’s physique with envy.

  “What I wouldn’t give to be put together like that!” he added as Tommy dropped his pants, then started removing his boots.

  “Just work out religiously. Eat right. And have a good trainer.”

  “You must have had the best of all three. But it would take a lot more than that for me.”

  “I did. Me.” Tommy said, stepping into the shower.

  “What about the scars?”

  “Iraq,” was all he said.

  “Must have been a bitch!”

  “It was,” Tommy replied, as his mind began to flash memories he’d rather not remember. He turned them off and finished his shower as quickly as he could.

  When he stepped out of the shower Clark stood with a towel ready. His eyes lingered on Tommy’s body and penis.

  “Are you gay?” Tommy asked innocently as he dried off.

  “Looking at you, I think I may be,” he replied sexily. “Are you?”

  “No,” Tommy answered simply.

  “If you change your mind, let me know, okay?”

  “I will,” Tommy smiled, knowing he never would.

  “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll do it. I promise. I give real good head and like it in the ass,” he smiled.

  “Never, ever, make a promise you can’t or won’t keep!” Tommy said. “Lesson number one, you are only as good as your word,” he added thinking Clark may be his ticket to the front office computer. He began to dress. The clothing seemed to fit him correctly. He began to stretch and then did a couple of high kicks to insure he had freedom of movement. He was satisfied with the inseam of the pants. He sat down and started putting on his boots. He watched Clark’s feet as he tied the laces; one could never trust anyone right off.

  “Oh, trust me. I’ll keep my promise about the head, ass, anything you want. Anything!” he said emphasizing the ‘anything’. “Just to serve you and please you would be an honor and pleasure.”

  Tommy couldn’t believe he was getting sexually aroused.

  “Looks like my magic is working,” Clark laughed, looking at Tommy’s crotch and then licked his lips.

  “I’d better get that cell, now,” Tommy said, walking toward the door.

  “Right,” Clark laughed. “Before you fall victim to my insatiable charms.”

  * * * * *

  The cell was not what Tommy had expected. It was large and fairly spacious. It had a commode, sink, mirror, a double bed and a solid steel door that could be locked from the inside as well as the outside. On the righ
t hand wall was a fold down table and a folding chair. There was carpet on the floor and fluorescent lights, a closet, dresser and shower. ‘Not bad’, he thought, as he looked around and smiled.

  “I brought you sheets, towels, pillows, pillowcases and a supply bag,” Clark said from behind him. “The supply bag contains personal hygiene articles and shaving stuff,” he added, as he stepped into the cell, then closed the door and locked it. He turned and laid his burden on the fold down chair and immediately began to make the bed.

  “I can do that,” Tommy protested.

  “I want to do it for you, if you don’t mind, that is,” Clark said, as he continued with his chosen task without looking up.

  “Go ahead, then,” Tommy said, as he removed the pile of stuff from the chair and sat down. “If it makes you happy,” Tommy laughed, thinking how feminine Clark was. Not what he would call ‘flaming’, just securely feminine as if he had been born to it.

  “It does. Very happy,” he said. “I know your secret.”

  “And what would that secret be?”

  “Oh, no, Mister. If I tell it won’t be a secret anymore,” Clark laughed, looking up at Tommy from under her eyebrows.

  “Tell me a secret about you and we’ll be even,” Tommy smiled.

  “I’ll tell you two. How’s that for trust?”

  “Chancy,” Tommy chided. “Very chancy.”

  “I doubt it. Okay, secret one. Judge Ryan is my uncle. Secret two. I’m a U.S. Marshal. But, you must never tell anyone. Judge Ryan got the Governor to assign me here, for you. I became intrigued with you when I saw your picture and Uncle Andy told me your story. So, now you know my secrets. Do you want some supper?”

  “Of course,” Tommy replied. It had been hours since he had eaten anything. “As long as we don’t have to stop there,” he added.

  “I’m here to serve, obey and please you, Master Mistri,” he smiled, lowering himself to his knees and bowing to the floor in a semblance of worship and obedience. He laughed the whole time, as he chanted, “Salami, salami, bologna,” over and over.

  “Get up, Clark. That looks bad from here,” Tommy laughed, as he watched Clark with his butt in the air.

  “Does it turn you on? Even though I’m facing the wrong way?” Clark teased as he continued to bow and chant.

  “Not really. I’m not gay, Clark. So get up and let’s go eat. I need to get organized and get some rest. It’s been a long day,” Tommy said as politely as he could. He didn’t want to offend, embarrass, or hurt Clark because of his sexual orientation.

  “Okay,” Clark moaned sadly. “But, you don’t know what you’re missing!” he teased. “And remember, if you need anything. Anything at all. Call me. I’m here for you, remember.”

  “Okay, if I need anything I’ll let you know.”

  “Promise?” Clark pouted, then turned and walked to the door.

  “Promise,” he said following him to the door and then out and down the hallway.

  An hour later Tommy was back in his cell and alone. He locked the door behind him and lay down across the bed for a nap. This mattress will take some getting used to; he thought as he began to spin and then drifted quickly into sleep.

  Then, he was dreaming about Clark.

  * * * * *

  Lisa Clark, United States Marshall, walked down the long corridor.

  It made her feel alone and empty when she left Tommy at his door. She wondered what he was thinking at the moment. Was he thinking of her? Had he seen through her ruse of impersonating a man? She wasn’t sure about that. He hadn’t acted as if he had. He had treated her like a man in his speech and actions toward her. So maybe she was a good actress after all. But, maybe he was the good actor and had been playing along with her just to see how far she would go with it.

  She would have revealed herself on several occasions. In fact she nearly had. But decided it would maybe be a bad idea this early in the game they were playing.

  Several guards walked toward her as she moved swiftly down the hall. They exchanged greetings with her as they passed in a tight lipped way. They obviously believed her to be gay. She didn’t know any of them. Although she had seen them on several occasions since she had been assigned here.

  So, just said hi and went along her way toward the front of the prison. She had to get to a phone and inform her uncle and the Governor that Tommy had arrived and was settled in as requested.

  As she approached a cross corridor she heard intense, angry voices coming from around the corner. She slowed slightly and moved to the opposite side of the corridor, just in case.

  She stepped out into the corridor and looked to her right. Down the hallway a group of four inmates had another pinned to the wall. One of the four, the obvious leader, slapped the pinned man in the face and pointed his finger into the man’s face angrily. The pinned inmate said something in reply and received another slap.

  As she walked toward the altercation the four walked off down the hallway, leaving the slapped one alone.

  “What was that all about?” she asked, walking up to him and looking at the red hand print on the side of his face.

  “Nothing,” he replied, looking at the floor.

  “It didn’t look like ‘nothing’,” she stated.

  “It was nothing,” he insisted, then turned and walked down the hallway in the direction the other four had taken.

  ‘Oh well’, she thought. ‘Handle it, then.’

  She went back to the cross-hall and continued toward the front of the prison and her phone call.

  Five minutes later she was seated behind a desk in an empty office. She dialed her uncle’s number and he answered on the first ring.

  “Judge Ryan,” he said.

  “Uncle Andy, it’s Lisa.”

  “Hi Sweety,” he said. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine. Tommy arrived today and is settled in. We just got back from eating. He’s in his cell now.”

  “How’s he doing, being locked up?”

  “I doubt it bothers him very much. I doubt that anything could bother him very much. He’s already beat the crap out of one of our worst.”

  “He won’t put up with much. He is easily provoked when his sense of honor is put in question. But, he must establish himself in the pecking order of the inmate population. He must be either predator or prey. He’ll be a predator, for sure.”

  “He thinks I’m gay,” she laughed. “I’m hoping he’ll prey on me,” she giggled.

  “You are. You like men,” Ryan laughed.

  “If you look at it like that, I am supposed to be a man. I’ve made several passes at him already. He turned me down flat. Then just laughed it off and said, ‘Clark, I’m not gay!’, like it’s a disease or something,” she laughed, imitating Tommy’s tone of voice as best she could.

  “Well, don’t deceive him any longer than necessary. You’ll find him more and more unforgiving the longer you do. So don’t let it go very long,” the judge cautioned her.

  “I won’t, Uncle Andy. But, I have to wait for the right time.”

  “Well, I still don’t like the idea of you being in there. It’s too dangerous!”

  “Uncle Andy, you should be ashamed,” she scolded. “I’m a U.S. Marshall. That’s a dangerous job!”

  “Well, you just stay close to Tommy. He’ll keep you safe whether you’re gay or not. If he likes you.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “He’ll let the wolves eat you,” he replied seriously. “But, if he likes you, he’ll die for you if need be. If he doesn’t, you’ll die. It’s as simple as that. So, stay close to him!”

  “I’ll stay close, don’t worry. I’ll be safe and I’ll call you back in a day or so. Okay?”

  “Okay Sweety. I’ll talk to you then.

  “Bye, Uncle Andy,” she smiled.

  “Bye.”

  She hung up, leaned back in the chair and relaxed for a moment, thinking about how she was going to proceed. She glanced at her wri
st watch. It was 5:30 P.M., time to go home. If one could call it that.

  Home consisted of a one room garage apartment she had lucked into in Hominy. It was boring, dull and lonely. But, it had a bed and a coffee pot. It also had a small hot shower that she needed badly. The smell of the prison had saturated her. It smelled of fear, hate and testosterone. She found it both repulsive and stimulating at the same time. It actually reeked of fear, testosterone, urine and sweaty bodies all at once. There was an undertone of sex, feces and old sperm. She shivered when she thought about what went on back in the cell blocks. Luckily Tommy wasn’t there, at least.

  She got up and went out the front door to her car, a late model Toyota, and drove home. It had been a long day.

  * * * * *

  Tommy’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t move. He lay there listening, feeling his surroundings. He sensed trouble in the hallway outside his door. He heard the murmur of urgent voices. He stood up, realizing he had fallen asleep in his clothes and that he had slept soundly all night, dreaming of Clark. He was well rested. He slid his boots on and laced them up, then stepped to the door, unlocked it and stepped out. Six big burly inmates had Clark backed up against the wall.

  “We think you’re a bitch, Clark!” one of them, a young, red-headed, red-faced, sloppy fat, sad excuse for a human being said with a leering grin.

  Tommy noticed that when the slob spoke he sprayed droplets of saliva into Clark’s face. His face was misted with it, but refused to blink or show fear. Tommy was impressed. He leaned against the wall to watch and listen. He was anxious to see how far they would take it and how much Clark would take before exerting his authority.

  “Just what the fuck you want?” a skinny, frizzy haired, shaft of a boy asked Tommy meanly.

  “I’m just watching,” Tommy smiled.

  “You just might oughta mind your own bidness, there Chief,” he replied, turning to face Tommy.

  “I’m not interfering. Just watching and listening to six big pieces of shit flushing themselves down the toilet.” Tommy smiled daringly.

  “Hell, I guess you thank we cain’t handle this one little bitty bitch all by our own selfs, huh?” he replied, missing, or ignoring the insult.

  “I seriously doubt it,” Tommy replied knowingly.

  “Well, what’s to stop us?” he asked insulted.

  “Me,” Tommy smiled, pushing away from the wall.