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Love often wears a mask in order to test loyalty. – Minna Antrim
“So you just want to fuck me?”
‘Just’
was an oversimplification. Bridget wanted to fuck her all right, but not at the expense of Franky’s mental health. She thought about Franky often enough that Bridget knew her intentions were bordering on unprofessional. She wanted to do right by Franky more than her professional standard--not that having a professional standard was folly, just that in Franky’s case it was really fucking inconvenient.
Franky stalked closer, walking around the stainless steel tables to stand in front of Bridget.
“I can live with that.”
Bridget wavered. She could and should just walk away tall, knowing she’d done the right thing but instead Franky was reaching for her and Bridget did nothing to dissuade her from her intent. Lunch was over, the kitchen was clean, and Franky’s crew had all gone to relax. There was just the small matter of 5 cameras turned on them.
Franky’s fingers threaded with Bridget’s and she tugged her toward the caged office and walk-in. Bridget didn’t budge the first time she pulled her arm, however, she relented the second time. She looked behind them, before following her into the cage.
“Franky,” she whispered. “What are we doing?”
“Nothing yet?” Franky waggled her eyebrows as her tongue darted out over her bottom lip. She popped the walk-in door open and stepped inside. She looked at Bridget expectantly. “Well?”
Bridget knew she was following Franky down a dark path professionally, and locking herself in a tiny refrigerated room with no way out with an inmate was also ill-advised. But it was Franky and she trusted her so she stepped over the threshold and into the walk-in.
Franky smiled like she’d just been given the best present in the history of presents and reached behind Bridget to pull the plunger on the door shut. Bridget shivered, whether from the chill in the cooler or her proximity to Franky, she couldn’t say.
It still wasn’t too late, she could turn around and leave, she could preserve her good name and reasonable expectation of professionalism. “Franky,” she whispered, not quite knowing why.
But Franky’s eyes did all the talking, pupils huge in her smokey, green eyes. It could have been the dim bulb illuminating the cooler, or desire that was smouldering in her eyes, but Bridget's eyes also sparkled in return.
“Gidget,” Franky replied softly, placing her hands on Bridget’s waist. To her credit, Franky gave Bridget plenty of time to change her mind, to speed away into the afternoon, but she stood stock still in front of Franky. “I’ve thought a lot about this.” She smiled, leaning into Bridget’s space to kiss her.
It was a terrifying and exciting and she shivered again as their lips met. Her heart thudded in her ears as the blood in her body began to pump faster. It was a tentative press, at first, soft yet unrelenting, and soon Bridget was kissing her back, hungry for more.
Backing her up against the door, Franky grappled with the zipper on her pants as Bridget unzipped Franky’s tracksuit and pushed her hands beneath her tank top. For as long as she had thought about touching Franky, she was not prepared for the real thing. Her breasts were firm and her skin was buttery smooth, both of which were not unexpected but they were appreciated nonetheless. When Bridget’s hands found the drawstring to Franky’s tracksuit, she fumbled with the knot.
Franky kissed her neck as her hand delved into Bridget’s underwear and she gasped. The wall was cold against her back in contrast to Franky’s hot breath on her skin, and she rolled her head against it. She was being fingered by an inmate--not just any inmate--Franky Doyle was inside of her and Bridget Westfall no longer cared about anything else.
Franky grunted when Bridget slid into her panties. She was slick with wanting and Bridget moaned at the contact. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t even warm, but Bridget was moving against Franky as her heart thudded in her ears.
Franky bit her bottom lip as her other hand came to rest on the wall behind Bridget. “Fuck,” she breathed as Bridget wrapped her arm around Franky’s neck and moved with her hand.
She was beside herself with desire, broken rules didn’t matter any longer. Their dance against the walk-in’s metal wall was a quick one, her legs quivering, threatening to give out as Franky’s thumb swept across her clit.
“Franky,” she moaned. There were no other words, just
Franky. Franky, Franky, Franky, Franky…
She grunted, grinning as Bridget’s release rocked her body. Still holding on for dear life, goosebumps pricked Bridget’s skin as the cooler kicked on again, her breath making clouds in the cold room. She buried her face in Franky’s neck, the smell of her shampoo fruity and sweet.
Withdrawing her hand from Bridget’s pants, Franky stumbled backwards as Bridget’s fingers still moved against her. The blonde shifted with her and they landed heavily against the shelving behind her. Bridget kissed her with gusto, burning up now in the cold room. Her fingers slid against Franky’s center and Bridget was lost again to the sensations of the other woman.
Franky moaned and licked her lips, eyes squeezing shut as Bridget leaned into her, and it wasn’t long before she jerked with release.
Green eyes opened and met blue, she exhaled, releasing more clouds into the cooler. Bridget remained pressing her against the shelving, breathing heavily until Franky broke the silence.
“I should probably get back to H-block. Don’t wanna make anyone suss.”
Bridget nodded, awkwardly removing her hand from Franky’s track pants and stepping backwards. “Franky, I--”
She was greeted with a ten-thousand-watt smile. Franky leaned back on the shelving, satisfied. “Gidge, we’re good.”
Bridget nodded, zipping her pants and straightening up, she stepped towards the door.
“Same time, next week?” Franky said, letting her arms drop to her sides as she moved in front of Bridget.
Bridget’s eyes closed and she shook her head, letting a small smile curl her lips as Franky pushed the plunger and the walk-in door popped open in front of Bridget.
As she left the walk-in, Bridget did not feel regret for what she had done, nor empty as she imagined she might after doing something so contrary to her standards. She knew, now that she had crossed that line, she’d go to the edge again and again for her because Franky Doyle was worth it. She wouldn’t be someone who used the system to fuck her again, she’d be the person they both needed her to be. It was also the one thing Franky valued more than anything. She would be loyal.