Matthew Gilroy
Boys Reformatory Series #7

an excerpt

The barred cell door slid shut with a resounding clang. Matthew put his hands to two of its bars, at face-level, and held tightly to them-perhaps experiencing the lingering reverberations that always occur within the cold metal, for a very long time, after the steel is back in place and its lock engaged. He watched as the guard retreated down the long hallway, opened the door at the end to reveal, for a brief moment, the brighter light on the other side, before the uniformed man stepped into that light, closed the door behind him, and disappeared along with the stronger illumination.

Matthew stood for a few moments more, right where he was, then turned back to where I was spread out on the lower bunk, my fingers locked behind my head.

He's genuinely attractive, if, at maybe 5'9", shorter than I expected. His chocolate-brown hair is cut short on the sides but long enough on top so that attractive bangs hang almost into his chocolate brown eyes; definitely not a first-time offender's haircut. His Roman nose appears a bit too large, only when you take a really good look at how it doesn't quite fit the symmetry of his whole face. His lips are full. His two front teeth slightly overlap; another imperfection, like his nose, that makes his looks all the more handsome for not being too perfect. His cheeks are dimpled. There's an obvious crease in his chin. His body is obviously well-toned and well-tanned, the latter in direct evidence that he's not spent all that much time of his time, before this time, in incarceration.

"This really isn't what it's like, is it?" he said. "I mean, this certainly isn't 'general population.' What is it, then: solitary confinement?"

"Believe me," I said, "when I tell you that, whatever it is, it'll give you more taste of life behind bars than most anyone else will ever have, or you will ever want to have in your lifetime."

He came over to stand beside our bunks. Sixth sense told me what he was about to do, and I warned him. "Always ask before you sit on another prisoner's bed, or touch another prisoner's possessions. There's a premium on space in this place, and you don't ever want to infringe upon someone else's, or you'll risk suffering the consequences."

"May I sit on your bunk?" he said.

"Sure," I said, "be my guest." It wasn't as if I was prepared to jump his ass just because he didn't know the rules, and probably never would know them. I was merely there to give him a vague taste of what life in Maltese Boys' Reformatory was all about. A hint, here; a hint, there; those would suffice to make everyone, including my keepers, happy.

The lower bunk creaked audibly when his firm ass sat atop my assigned thin mattress and lone blanket.

"You didn't really think that they were going to put a VIP, like you, into the general prison population, did you?" I asked. "In with the killers, the rapists, the kidnappers, the child molesters, and the bullies? Good God, just think of the scandal if anything happened to you when and if in there."

"So, obviously, then, you're not a killer, a rapist, a kidnapper, a child molester, or a bully," he said and smiled. The surest indication that he wasn't in MBR for long was that he could still so quickly smile, and did smile. A very nice smile it is, too. "Are you even an inmate?"

"Oh, yes," I assured. "I shoplifted a box of condoms and got caught. I shoplifted a second box of condoms; I got caught. There were a few concerned individuals who thought I needed a lesson about prison life before I shoplifted a third box of condoms, got caught, and got sent here for far longer than my scheduled stay this time around."

"You must have had a pretty going sex life to need all of those rubbers," he said, and his attractive smile widened to make him even more attractive.