In his eight months in prison, Joseph had learned a great deal about shame. He could now reasonably be considered an expert in the entire life cycle of mortification. There was the first, sharp sting of it, followed by a long, slow burn that lasted-- however long it lasted, until finally, invariably it faded away. This was the only good news Joseph had gotten in prison--that no matter how degraded, debased and humiliated you had been, eventually you did get used to it.

So it was not long before Joseph grew accustomed to his new wardrobe. He even started to walk the halls with his shoulders back and his head held high. Hell, if he had to wear a dress, he might as well do it with dignity. While he didn't exactly enjoy the wolf whistles and catcalls and come-ons that followed him everywhere he went, he did take it as a tribute to his attractiveness, a crude appreciation of his feminine charms. After all the hard work he'd put into his appearance, he certainly felt he deserved a little recognition

He even--for the most part--got used to having an audience while he had sex with his husband. Of course, it never gave him the same erotic charge that it did Gus. He didn't particularly like having all those dirty men staring at his body. Their prying eyes offended his sense of modesty. After all, being penetrated by your husband was the most intimate, private thing that could happen to a wife. It pained him to know that every slack-jawed loser in the joint had been privy to it.

But sometimes when Gus got really turned on--when he pistoned in and out of Joseph's body in a demon frenzy, and pulled on his tits like he was trying to tear them off, and got harder and harder as the fucking went on--Joseph would feel an odd surge of emotion. It wasn't sexual pleasure particularly. He felt nothing between his legs now, almost as if he had no genitals. But somehow the sensation of fullness in his pussy, as his husband's grunts and moans of ecstasy echoed in his ears, gave him a sense of rightness, even fulfillment. He wasn't some pathetic, discarded divorcee. He could still please his man. It was oddly gratifying to have so many witnesses to that fact.

The one hitch was Carlos. Joseph could not think about all the nasty stories going around the cellblock about him--stories that Carlos must certainly hear--without the most profound sense of shame. Whenever Joseph saw Carlos in the cafeteria or the day room, he scurried away as quickly as he could. He'd even started showering at a different time to avoid him, as miserable as that made him. Now Joseph had no one to talk to, no one to show him any kindness or affection. He missed Carlos so much he ached. But, still, this was better than having Carlos tell him what a pervert he was. It was far, far better than hearing how much Carlos hated him for being such a spineless, mini-skirt-wearing weakling.

That afternoon, as had become his habit, Joseph took his shower. When he was finished, he dressed by himself in the changing area. He had just smoothed his skirt and slipped into his heels when Carlos came striding into the room.

Joseph froze.

"We need to talk," Carlos said, his eyes glittering with anger.

"Please," Joseph said, softly. "Don't."

The muscle in Carlos' jaw tightened. Joseph had never seen him so furious.

"So that's it? You cut me loose, and I don't even get an explanation?"

"I can't talk about this. I'm sorry," Joseph said.

He tried to slip past Carlos. But Carlos caught him by the wrist. He hooked an arm around his waist and drew him close. Joseph tried to pull free, wobbling on his heels, but Carlos only held him tighter. Joseph was painfully self-conscious of his short, slutty skirt, the peekaboo blouse and push up bra that offered up his breasts like a buffet.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Carlos demanded.

"Let me go!"

"No! You tell me. Right now."

Joseph had the terrible feeling that he was about to cry. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me."

"This," Joseph said, looking down at his outfit. "I don't want to hear how disgusting I am, okay? I don't want to know how much you despise me."

"For what, querido? For wearing a skirt? For surviving? We both know you have to do whatever that bastard wants. Why would this be any different?"

Joseph balled his hands into fists. "It was my idea," he said softly, his voice breaking.

"Why, baby? Why would you do that?" Carlos asked, confused.

"He lost interest," Joseph said, shakily, shamefully.

It still amazed him how hard it was to admit that his husband no longer found him attractive.

Carlos shook his head. "God, that man is so fucking predictable."

Joseph stared at him. It was not at all the reaction he'd been expecting.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Baby, when are you getting out of here?"

"Soon."

"And when is Gus getting out?"

"Well-- I guess--"

"Never. That's when" Carlos said. "Don't you know how it ties him up inside, knowing that you'll be out there leading a normal life and he'll be in this shithole forever? All the punks he's ever had-- He's totally tormented them the last month or so before they got out. Fucked with their heads. Made them do all kinds of crazy shit."

"Really?" Joseph asked, oddly comforted that Gus' displeasure might not be completely genuine.

"Yeah, baby." Carlos stroked a hand along the curve of Joseph's face and smiled. "And what have I told you anyway? There's nothing you could ever do to make me hate you. Remember that next time, huh?"

Joseph nodded, too choked with emotion to speak.

"Besides, why would I hate you for looking gorgeous? 'Cause you do, querido. God. You are so, so beautiful."

Joseph blushed happily. "You think so? You don't think I look like a slut in this?"

Carlos shook his head. "God no, baby. You look-- Really, really sexy."

Carlos' dark, liquid eyes traveled appreciatively over his body. Joseph felt a shiver of excitement go down his back, and his nipples hardened. It was a heady experience to be the object of such an admiring gaze. Joseph finally understood why women put so much time and effort into their appearance. It was worth it to be looked at like this, like he was the most desirable person on earth.

But then he thought about the warden--thought about how he'd gotten down on his knees and serviced him, repeatedly. And the moment was ruined.

He lowered his eyes. "There's something else I have to tell you."

Carlos moved his hand in comforting circles on the small of Joseph's back. "What is it, baby?"

"I-- I really thought Gus was going to divorce me. And, God, I was so fucking terrified. I would have done anything. You have to understand that."

"I do understand, querido. Just tell me. What happened?"

Joseph's throat constricted with shame. "I sucked off the warden."

He felt Carlos stiffen.

"I'm so sorry," Joseph said, desperately. "God, I'm sorry, Carlos. I really needed the clothes. And he wouldn't help me if I didn't--"

"That fucking bastard!" Carlos put both hands on Joseph's shoulders. "Are you all right, baby? Did he hurt you?"

Joseph shook his head. "No."

Carlos hugged him fiercely.

"Thank God!"

Joseph closed his eyes and let his head fall to Carlos' shoulder. It felt so incredibly good to be in his arms, to be held by someone who actually gave a damn about him. A warm feeling of gratitude swelled in his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You had a right to ask for help, querido. He shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."

"He keeps making me come to his office for 'updates' on how I'm doing," he confessed.

Carlos tensed. "And he makes you blow him every time?"

Joseph nodded.

"How many times has it happened?"

"Five. Sergeant Murphy is so suspicious."

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?"

Joseph shook his head.

"That's good, baby. The warden could screw up your release if he's pissed."

"I know. But, Carlos-- It's so awful. I feel so incredibly dirty when he makes me-- do him."

Carlos tightened his arms around Joseph. "I'm so sorry, baby. God, I wish I could make it stop. But just remember, he's the dirty one, not you. He's a fucking filthy animal."

"Thank you for being so good to me, Carlos. God, I've missed you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He could feel Carlos' smile against his shoulder. "You're never going to have to do without me while you're in here, querido."

Carlos pulled back. He cupped Joseph's chin in his hand and stared intently into his eyes. Joseph inclined his head, ever so slightly, giving his permission. Carlos leaned forward and kissed him, gently, chastely. Carlos' mouth was warm and soft, and the feel of his breath made Joseph's lips tingle, made him desperately want more. He opened his mouth, and Carlos deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting Joseph's, playfully, affectionately.

Since Joseph had first acknowledged his growing attraction to Carlos, he had tried to find some way to frame it in his mind, to make it less threatening. He had tried to tell himself that it had nothing to do with gender. He was drawn to Carlos the person, and it just happened that the person came in a male package.

But as he leaned into Carlos' embrace, he had to admit that these rationalizations were all a bunch of nonsense. He loved the contrast of his own softness with the hard masculinity of Carlos' body. He enjoyed the feeling of his breasts pressed against Carlos' sturdy chest, the muscled chords of Carlos' neck beneath his fingers, Carlos' strong, capable hands cupping and kneading his round bottom. He liked being touched by a man--at least, when the man was Carlos. It made him feel wanted and protected, at the same time.

The kiss grew more heated and frenzied. Carlos' hands roamed at will over Joseph's curves. Joseph leaned into every caress, wantonly. He didn't care about Gus or Madeleine or the warden. Or anything. In this moment, he belonged only to Carlos, and Carlos could do whatever he wanted with him. All Joseph asked was that it never stop.

But Carlos did finally break the kiss. He took a hasty step back, looking shaken.

"I didn't mean to do that," he said. "I just wanted to-- But I shouldn't have gotten so carried away."

Joseph was breathless, trembling. He couldn't answer. No kiss had ever made him feel so alive.

"I'm sorry, querido," Carlos said.

Joseph shook his head. "No."

"But if he finds out--"

"He won't."

"You're so close now. You have to be careful. Promise me you will be."

Joseph nodded. "Promise."

"Just hang in there, querido" Carlos told him. "That's all you have to do. And then it'll finally be over."

"Yes," Joseph said.

And when it was over, he would never see Carlos again. He tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the thought.

"I'll see you tomorrow? For a shower at the regular time?" Carlos asked.

Joseph smiled. "I'll look forward to it."

Carlos returned the smile. "Tomorrow, then."

Joseph nodded. "Tomorrow."

He watched Carlos walk away--admiring, as he always did, the lithe masculine grace of his body. He tried not to count in his head just how few tomorrows they had left together.

While Joseph had made his peace, more or less, with the public sexual displays Gus put him through, he still dreaded, with everything he was worth, Sergeant Murphy's semi-weekly appearances, to tell him that the warden wanted to see him for yet another "update" on his progress.

Today, he was on work detail when Murphy showed up in the doorway of the laundry room. His stomach sank as the sergeant beckoned to him. He followed Murphy down the hall to the warden's office with heavy footsteps. He tried not to notice the concerned glances Murphy kept shooting him or Rhonda's knowing look as she intercommed her boss.

The warden met Joseph at the door.

"Ah, Carlton," he said, in his most professional voice. "Come inside. I want to hear how you're getting along."

"Thank you, sir," Joseph mumbled, as he stepped into the office, wishing he were anywhere else.

When the warden closed the door, his entire demeanor changed, as it always did. He grabbed his crotch and rubbed himself through his pants. His face twisted into a demented caricature of lust. His eyes sparkled like a maniac's.

"Tits!" he ordered, his voice anything but professional.

Joseph unbuttoned his sheer blouse and unsnapped his bra. His freed titties bounced and swayed, and the warden's crazy eyes got just a little bit crazier.

"Get over here!" he barked.

Joseph complied, his head bent, submissively, the way the warden liked it.

"Oh, yeah," the warden moaned as he took Joseph's tits in his hands and started to knead them roughly. "You're such pretty titties, aren't you?"

Joseph often wondered about the warden's sanity. The man was completely obsessed with his boobs. He would stare at them and talk to them and fondle them until Joseph's tender flesh ached.

"Dirty, too," the warden crooned to Joseph's breasts. "Pretty, dirty little titties. That's what you are." He eyes flickered up to Joseph's face. "Just like the slut you belong to."

Joseph bit his lip, but didn't answer. The warden had developed this little ritual, meaner and nastier with each visit, but Joseph had learned that it went quicker if he didn't interrupt.

"Are you thirsty, slut?" the warden asked, in an ugly voice.

Joseph nodded, his eyes lowered in shame.

The warden grabbed his chin and forced him to meet his gaze. "I didn't hear you."

"Yes, sir," Joseph murmured. "Very thirsty."

"Get down on your knees and do your work, then. And I'll give you something nice to drink."

"Yes, sir."

Joseph sank to the floor. His stomach lurched violently. But he took a deep breath and forced the nausea back down. It was funny how much more he hated doing this to the warden than to his husband. But then, Gus had never belittled and abused him like this, not even on his worst days.

He opened the warden's pants, pulled out his cock and took it into his mouth. He had learned all the warden's likes and dislikes by now. He worked his cock diligently, just trying to get it over with. Eventually, he could feel the warden's orgasm approaching, and tears of relief sprang to his eyes.

"Stop!" the warden cried out.

He pushed Joseph away.

"What's wrong, sir?"

The warden's eyes glittered. "You think you can do me like that, slut? Use that talented little whore's mouth to make me come before I'm ready."

Joseph stared at him in disbelief. "I'm sorry, sir. I thought you liked--"

"I bet you don't treat your husband like that, do you?" the warden accused.

Joseph swallowed hard. The man had become insanely jealous of Gus. Any time his name came up it always meant trouble.

"I'll do anything you want. Just tell me--"

"You keep all your special talents just for him. Don't think I don't realize that."

Joseph shook his head frantically. "No, sir. That's not true!"

He felt a real stab of panic in his chest. He had no idea how to mollify this madman. But if he didn't, it could cost him his chance at freedom.

"Prove it, slut," the warden commanded.

"I don't know what you want me to--"

The warden grabbed him by the arm, yanked him up from the floor and pushed him face first across the desk. Joseph felt the warden's clammy hands pushing his skirt up over his hips, the man's knee forcing his legs apart.

"No!" he cried out and started to struggle.

But the warden was bigger than he was and rather strong. He put his weight on Joseph's back to hold him down and wrestled Joseph's arms under his body, trapping them there.

"No!" Joseph screamed. "Help me!"

He hoped to God that Sergeant Murphy would hear him. He was so desperate he didn't even care what the consequences might be.

"Shut up, bitch! Just shut up!" the warden hissed at him.

He clamped his hand over Joseph's mouth to keep him from screaming again. He pressed his mouth to Joseph's ear.

"You yell like that one more time, and I'll personally tell your husband what a slut you've been during our little visits together. Can you imagine what he'd do to you? And afterwards, every con in the place would be waiting to get a piece of you. That's one gang fuck that would go on for days. Would you like that, Joanne? Huh? A couple hundred guys having a go at your pussy?"

Joseph sobbed against the warden's hand, but he quit fighting.

"That's a good girl," the warden said. "Spread your legs for me like a good little whore."

Joseph numbly obeyed. When he felt the warden push aside his panties and his erection nudge into his crack, he cried harder. The warden pressed his cock against Joseph's pussy, and Joseph closed his eyes tightly, waiting with a sense of sick suspense to be penetrated. The warden stretched out along his back and forced entry with one vicious thrust.

The hand over Joseph's mouth muffled his cry of pain. He frantically searched for some way to get away, but there was simply no way to free himself. So his self-protective impulses took over, and his head was suddenly flooded with pleasant images. Walking on a sunny beach with Carlos. Sitting on the sofa, watching TV with Madeleine. Sleeping in his own bed back home, with nothing to fear in the middle of the night. Anything to keep his mind off where he actually was and what was really happening to him.

It shouldn't have been so traumatic. He kept trying to tell himself that. After all, he had been fucked many times, and the warden's modest little dick was nothing compared to Gus' freak of nature. But all those other times, there had been at least the pretense of consent. With Gus, Joseph had always felt that he was getting something for what he was giving up. But the warden was simply taking, whatever he wanted, as brutally as he liked, and Joseph had no way to defend himself. It was pure violation, and he cried the whole time he was being fucked.

His only consolation was that, as usual, the warden did not last long. He soon bucked up and flailed wildly and came in long streams. He collapsed onto Joseph, breathing hard, and for a few moments, they lay there, rapist and victim, unbearably connected, chest against back, cock inside pussy. And Joseph felt the last ghost of the man he had once been fading away. When the warden finally pulled out of his body and got off him, he couldn't move, paralyzed by an enormous sense of loss, a dark pit in the center of his being where his manhood had once been.

"Carlton?" he heard the warden say, as if from a great distance. "Carlton, you can get up now. Come on."

He felt the warden's hands on his arms, pulling him up. He didn't resist, but he didn't help either. He simply did not have the strength to bear his own weight. The warden held him up and walked him over to a chair. He sank down onto it with relief.

"Here," the warden said.

It took Joseph a moment to realize that the warden was trying to hand him something, and a moment longer, to see that it was a compact. He reached for it, a little disoriented. He didn't quite understand why the warden would have supplies on hand for him to fix his makeup, unless-- He clutched his stomach, a violent wave of nausea rocking him. Unless the attack had been premeditated.

"Don't just sit there all day," the warden snapped at him.

Joseph jumped at the sound of his voice. He hurriedly opened the compact and winced when he saw his own reflection. Thankfully, he wore waterproof eye makeup, so he didn't have big, black smears. But his eyes were still puffy and red. His cheeks were mottled from crying. And his expression was painfully strained. He didn't know how he was going to keep from alerting Gus that something was wrong.

He took out the powder puff and dabbed some makeup onto it. He held it up, for a closer look. It was even his shade. There really was no doubt. The warden had planned it all along. Joseph's hand shook as he smoothed powder onto his face. He did his best to even out of his complexion and cover up the red splotches.

The warden stood over him, impatiently. "I don't have all day, Carlton," he said.

Joseph gave himself one last appraising glance in the compact. He didn't look his best by any means, but at least, no one could tell he'd been crying.

He didn't hand the compact back to the warden, but laid it on the arm of the chair instead. He didn't want to run the risk of accidentally brushing the warden's fingers. Just the thought of the man touching him made him feel sick.

He stood up, and the warden shifted his weight awkwardly.

"Yes, well, that will be all, Carlton," he said.

Joseph shuffled to the door. He would have liked to run, but he felt as if he were slogging through quicksand.

Outside, he followed Sergeant Murphy, who was even more silent than usual as he escorted Joseph back to the cellblock. Joseph kept his head down, his eyes on the floor, concentrating all his energy on turning his face into a bland, neutral mask that would give no hint of what had just happened to him.

Work detail had ended, and lunch was about to begin. So Murphy walked him to the cafeteria. Outside the double doors, the sergeant paused.

"If you made a complaint, I'd back you up," he told Joseph.

The offer stunned Joseph, even touched him a little, but he schooled himself not to react.

"I don't know what you mean, Sergeant," he said, without expression.

The sergeant's face twisted ironically. "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say. But, listen, the offer will still be on the table if you change your mind. What he's doing-- It's despicable."

Sergeant Murphy turned and strode away. For the briefest second, Joseph wanted to call him back. But then he reminded himself how much he had to lose, and he watched the sergeant disappear around the corner.

Joseph took a deep breath and let it out. He closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. Then he pulled himself up to his full height, threw his shoulders back, and marched into the cafeteria to join his husband.

He found Gus off to the side of the line, looking at his watch.

"You're late," he said.

Joseph nodded. "I know. I'm very sorry, sir. I got held up on work detail."

He fell in beside Gus, and they headed to the front of the line. Joseph thought he was behaving perfectly normally, but Gus gave him an odd look.

"Is everything okay, Sunshine?" he asked.

Joseph felt a surge of fear, but he kept his expression blank. "Yes, sir. Everything's fine."

Gus nodded, as if satisfied with that answer. But his hand drifted to the small of Joseph's back, and he let it rest there, keeping Joseph close at his side. Joseph found himself leaning into the curve of Gus' arm, strangely comforted by his husband's big body.

Gus smiled down at him. "Maybe you just missed me. Is that it?"

Joseph nodded, feeling a lump of emotion in his throat. It was true. Every moment with the warden, he had desperately longed for his husband's familiar touch.

"Yes, sir," he said. "I missed you very much."

Gus smiled more brightly and kept his hand on Joseph's back as they moved through the line. It surprised Joseph how much this simple gesture could steady him. Once they were seated, Gus reached under the table and held Joseph's hand. It was just for a moment, but it made Joseph feel like a person again.

"Thank you, sir," he whispered.

Gus nodded, let go of his hand, and went on with his lunch. Joseph picked at his food, the way he always did. But he did feel buoyed by his husband's unaccustomed tenderness. Of course, he realized it wouldn't last. Tonight, as usual, he would star in Gus' favorite real-life porn spectacle: "Joanne Does the Cellblock."

But at least, Gus' odd little outburst of affection had helped him get through the roughest and most dangerous patch. Joseph was certain he wouldn't fall apart now. He would keep quiet and do the rest of his time and then get the hell out of there. And when he was finally free and safe again, he would find someone he could trust and tell them everything that had happened to him while he was behind bars. So he wouldn't have to be alone with it anymore.

Until then, he would have one more secret to keep.

Each day Joseph spent in prison seemed to go more slowly than the last, but finally, he was down to the last week of his sentence. He had given a great deal of thought to what he would do when he was finally released, and now he stood in front of the pay phone, frozen.

"Hey, pussy! You gonna make a call? Or are you just gonna stand there all day?" the next guy in line shouted at him.

"Wait your fucking turn, shit head!" he yelled back.

There were titters from the other inmates.

"I don't think a lady would use language like that," someone said.

Joseph flipped them all the bird. He wasn't going to let these assholes rush him when he had something incredibly important and difficult to do.

His hand actually shook as he fed his quarter into the slot. Since Joseph had asked Madeleine not to come visit him anymore, communication between them had been sporadic and strained. There was next to nothing about Joseph's experience in prison that he could share with her. And it was hard for him to concentrate on the inconsequential minutiae of Madeleine's daily life, which seemed to be the only topic she felt comfortable discussing with him. If life behind bars had taught Joseph anything, it was that a burned pot-roast and zinnias that wouldn't bloom were hardly things to get upset about. But he desperately needed Madeleine's help. So he took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm himself down before he dialed.

Joseph had spent the last nine long months dreaming of the moment when he would finally be free. But now that it was only a week away, he found himself panicking. The emptiness he'd experienced after the warden had raped him--the sense that his manhood had been irrevocably lost-- had not gone away. As he thought more and more about getting out of prison, he started to realize, with a cold feeling of terror, that he had no idea how to live on the outside anymore. He could not imagine doing the things he used to do--getting up and putting on a suit and going to work and striding around like he was the man, like he was in charge. Honestly, he didn't know how he could function without having a husband, someone to answer to, someone to tell him what to do, someone to serve and please. It was what gave him his sense of purpose now. He could not imagine life without having someone to submit himself to.

It was ironic, really. He had wanted nothing more than to be free of Gus, but now that he almost was, the idea of doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, utterly terrified him. Madeleine was his only hope. If he could return to his old life with her, maybe, just maybe, he would remember who he used to be. Maybe he could slip back into their old patterns together, and habit would take over. And he would eventually re-learn how to be his own man--a husband, instead of a wife.

Joseph closed his eyes and dialed.

She picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

Joseph had to swallow three times before he could speak.

"Hello?" she said again. "Is anyone there?"

"Maddy?"

The line went silent, and for one stomach-dropping moment, Joseph was petrified that she'd hung up on him.

"Joseph," she finally said.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I hope I'm not calling at a bad time."

She hesitated. "No-- It's just-- You're not who I was expecting-- How are you?"

"I'm okay. I'm getting out in a week, you know."

"Yes. Yes, I do know. Congratulations. I know it's been very hard for you in there, and I'm happy you'll be free again soon."

"I just want-- I need you to do something for me. Would you, Maddy? Would you help me?"

"If I can, Joseph."

"Would you come pick me up the day I get out?"

There was more silence from her. Joseph could hear his own heart thundering in his ears. He knew winning Maddy back was going to be extremely difficult, but if he could insinuate himself into her life again, maybe she would eventually forgive him and agree to give their marriage another chance.

"I don't know," Madeleine said. "You made it clear a couple of months ago how you felt about seeing me."

"Only because of this place, Maddy. I swear. It was never about you. But, God, I am so, so sorry if I hurt you. I never meant--"

"But you did, Joseph. When you told me I couldn't visit you anymore-- That just-- It killed me."

"I'm sorry, Maddy. I wish to God I could undo it, but I can't. I promise I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I swear. So, please, please do this for me. I need you, Maddy. I really do."

"Well--"

Joseph was so nervous. His hands were balled tightly into fists. But he could tell he was getting to her, at least a little bit. If there was one thing Madeleine could never resist, it was the lure of someone who needed her.

"I don't know, Joseph," she finally said. "Maybe if that was the only issue. But it's not. There's something I have to tell you--"

"No, darling. No. Whatever it is, it doesn't matter--"

"It does matter, Joseph. It matters to me." She paused. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm in love with Larry. We're together. A couple. For months now."

"But-- You said-- I thought we were going to try--"

He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, but he couldn't keep pictures from forming in his head of that flabby assed jerk diddling his wife. It still made him burn with rage--but now, more out of hatred for his old boss than any real love for Madeleine.

"I know what I promised," Madeleine said, guiltily. "I really thought I could do it, thought I should-- But it just wasn't-- I am truly sorry. We didn't want it to be this way. Larry or me. We were going to wait, break it to you after you'd had some time to get readjusted. But I can hear in your voice that you think things are going to go back to the way they were before. And that's-- It's just not possible."

Joseph stood there dumbstruck, staring straight ahead, like a man who had just been condemned. His last chance at a normal life was slipping away from him, and his rage boiled even hotter.

"I can not fucking believe you," he sputtered. "After all I did to try to give you a good life-- After everything I've sacrificed-- "

Pictures from his nightmare in prison flashed before his eyes: the terror of being cornered in the shower by Smitty and his merry gang of sadists; the pain and disgrace of surrendering his cherry to Gus; the long, slow assault on his manhood that had left him sadly more comfortable in the role of wife than husband.

"And I did it all just to try to come home to you the same man I was before," he said, accusingly. "Don't you think I deserve better than this?"

"What about what I deserve, Joseph?" Madeleine countered. "I never asked you for any of that lavish extravagance. I certainly never asked you to steal for it. All I ever wanted was a simple life. Security. Companionship. Dignity. And what have you done, Joseph? Hmm? You've gone and turned me into a prison wife. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? What I have to put up with? The looks and the whispering and the laughing behind my back?"

"You'd be surprised how much I know about that," Joseph said, dryly.

Madeleine sighed. "I just don't think it's going to work, Joseph."

"He's turned you against me. That-- That fucking, backstabbing dick."

"Don't you dare call him names. I won't stand for it. For your information, Larry has always urged me to have compassion for you, just like he does."

Joseph snorted. "Oh, yeah. He had so much compassion that he got me put in this shithole in the first place."

"You're the one who broke the law, Joseph."

"And I made up for it! I paid the money back. I apologized. Mrs. Heilbruner wasn't going to press charges."

"You can't keep blaming other people for your mistakes. You're never going to learn anything that way."

"Oh, don't you worry, sweetheart. I've learned plenty in prison. Trust me. It's not something I'm ever going to forget."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it. Hopefully, it will keep you from making the same mistake again."

Joseph wanted to laugh out loud. If only she knew what he'd been through, she'd have no doubts. Spending nine months as some other guy's wife, dressed up in women's clothes, getting sodomized and face-fucked on a daily basis certainly had a way of scaring you straight.

Joseph leaned his forehead against the wall and squeezed his eyes closed. "We said for better or worse, Madeleine."

"That's a low blow, Joseph."

"Look, I'm not asking you to come back to me. I see now that's not going to happen. But will you please just pick me up? Help me get settled. It would mean so much to me. And it's the last thing I'll ever ask you for."

"I don't know--" She sighed heavily. " I-- I suppose. You can stay at the apartment if you want. I'm hardly ever there anymore. But as soon as you get back on your feet, we need to start talking about a divorce."

"Yeah. I got that."

"I'll see you in week then," she said.

"A week."

"Bye, Joseph."

"Bye."

The line went dead in his ear, and he hung up the receiver, numbly, mechanically. His eyes were hot and stinging, but he refused to cry over Madeleine's faithlessness. He hadn't chosen her for her strength. Why should he be surprised that she had failed to show any when things got difficult and complicated? And the truth was that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't find any trace left of the powerful feeling he'd once had for her.

All he needed now was for her to help him get a handhold on real life again, to remind him who he used to be. She would do that--he had no doubt--if only out of guilt.

Joseph sighed heavily and trudged back to his cell. It was almost time for lockdown, and Gus would be waiting for him. He had a long night of stripping and fucking and men chanting "Show us your pussy!" ahead of him. After all, there were still seven more days to get through. And if he was going to survive them, he'd have to keep his husband well entertained.

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