I stare at the grey tiled floor and notice it's the color of stone. I look at the chair at my desk. It's also the color of stone. Chiseled, grey, and distant. Why is everything around me reminding me of Lucien Stone? I know what you're thinking, but the answer is no. I'm not one to develop schoolgirl crushes on men I don't even know. If it's one thing I've learned, it's that men come and go and there's no sense dwelling on something so short-lived. If I sound jaded, it's because I am. Do you blame me? And besides, this man is serving a life sentence. Talk about unattainable! So why can't I get my mind off of him? He's a dangerous criminal. I know this—I've seen his paperwork—but there's something about him that doesn't seem like a cold-blooded killer. It's as if I know him, or at least recognize that there's more to him than what his paperwork says.

Maybe I'm hormonal. That has to be it. My body betrays me when my hormones fluctuate. Some women need to chart their ovulation cycles on a calendar. Not me. As soon as I start letting my guard down and thinking that Mr. Right might be the man sitting next to me, I have to put myself in check. I have to remind myself that there's no such thing as a Mr. Right. I think back to Jonathan. His smile. His strong, wide shoulders. I fell so easily into him. The way he'd walk down the street with me, putting me on the inside so that he'd be on the side of traffic. I thought he was the one. He'd even be the guy at the park who'd stop and wave to babies. He was the fairytale—that Knight riding into the frame of a movie on an all-white horse. I could picture us having a house together, the garden surrounded by a white picket fence, and maybe a few kids. And where did that get me? I'll tell you. It shattered my world. I learned the fairy tale doesn't exist.

Maybe I just need a quick hook up. A one night stand. I haven't been with a man since Jonathan. It's my lunch break so I tap my phone on and load the Tinder app I recently downloaded. Don't laugh. I never thought I'd download Tinder, let alone consider hooking up with someone from this app, but it can be hard to meet people.

I swipe through the profiles. I see a man in a full suit of armor, as if he were going to a renaissance fair. His bio reads, "I'm hoping your standards are lower than mine." Swipe left. Another man sits in front of what appears to be a math textbook. He seems to be winking at stereotypes and his caption reads, "I'm the Asian for any occasion. I enjoy math and Pokemon." Swipe left. Another man with short, cropped hair has a zoomed-in profile picture of his angry, pockmarked face. His bio reads: "I don't give a shit what you look like because I'm not that good looking." Swift left. I sigh and tap my phone off. So much for Tinder.

I look at my watch. My lunch break is nearly over. I finish my sandwich and think about Lucien again. I have an exam scheduled with him in a few minutes to check on his fracture. I need to keep my cool. Hormones be damned. I have to keep this professional.

Consistency and firmness. No small talk. A professional distance. I mutter all of these things to myself, but as soon as Lucien enters the infirmary, all of this fades and again, I'm finding myself struck by his presence. He's the kind of guy who commands a room. I can't help but feel his confidence. His gaze suggests a depth of character that goes beyond the walls of this prison.

I ask the guard to remove his handcuffs and I take a look at him and ask, "How are your shoulder and arm feeling today?"

"I've had better days."

"But would you say you're feeling any better?"

"I'd feel a whole lot better if I weren't stuck in these four walls."

"Can you move your arms for me?"

Lucien carefully lifts his arm, and slowly rotates it in a semi-circular motion. I notice that his range of motion is improving.

"I'm still in a lot of pain."

"Well, you aren't out of the woods yet," I remind him. "You'll have some discomfort for a few weeks."

"It's not discomfort, it's pain. I know the difference."

"Has your pain subsided at all?" I ask.

"Off and on, but I could use an extra aspirin."

For a moment I consider whether I should give him the extra aspirin. His fracture is healing, but he probably is still experiencing some pain to the area. There are a few pretty stringent rules regarding the amount of painkillers we can give to inmates. Most of the time it can fuel addiction, start an addiction, or be used as currency in a place like this. But I decide to give Lucien the benefit of the doubt.

"I'll give you an extra aspirin this time, but we've got to start cutting back."

"It's just an aspirin we're talking about."

"We have rules here, and I need to follow them," I remind him, but then soften my body language and tone a bit. "But I know you need it. So here you go."

He smiles and we hold each other's gaze for longer than usual. I try to imagine what he'd look like in a different set of clothes beyond the prison garb. Who would he be? Just another man walking down the street, or perhaps shopping for a box of cereal? Would I even turn my head to look at him?

"Do you have an extra paperclip that I could have?" he asks.

"Excuse me?" I reply. His question comes out of left field and breaks my thoughts. I'm no longer envisioning him strutting across a crowded city corner, or shopping for groceries.

"I write," he continues. "I mean letters, journal entries, and things like that. It'd be nice to have a paperclip to keep my papers together, you know?"

"I can't do that. I'm a medical assistant here to make sure you stay healthy. I'm not your secretary."

"Come on. Just this once. What's the harm in a paperclip?"

"You know as well as I do that anything in this place can be harmful."

"So, what are you saying?"

"The only thing I'm saying is no. Request denied, Stone. There won't be any paperclips today. I've been here for six months, and I plan to be here for a while longer. I'm not going to get fired on account of a single missing paperclip."

Lucien laughs. "Fair enough," he says. "I'll take the aspirin and get out of your hair."

I watch as the guard walks back into the room and replaces his handcuffs. Lucien flips his sandy brown hair out of his eyes and I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to be held between his strong arms.

That night, I return home and throw my keys and purse onto the kitchen table. I instinctually open the refrigerator and stare at the nearly bare shelves. There is a carton of eggs, a half loaf of bread, and a bag of carrots for when I'm trying to encourage healthy snacking. I realize I'm not hungry for any of this and close the fridge in disgust. I look at the stainless steel door and see grey. Damn it. That color again. Now I'm thinking of his granite-grey eyes and his strong arms. I'm remembering the outline of his cock when I x-rayed his chest, and the way it seemed to grow harder by the second. When I think about it, I realize I've never touched a cock that big in my life. Jonathan wasn't built like that. I wonder what it would feel like to take him inside of me. I feel a flush of desire wash over my body and I decide to take a shower. Maybe that'll help.

I undress and look at my body in the bathroom mirror.

If Lucien were free now, there’s no doubt somehow I would have found a way to bring him in here. That he would be standing next to me with his muscled body.

I place my hands over my breasts and imagine that they are his hands, his strong fingers, and imagine that he has me in his control and I feel my nipples harden. A tingle runs through my body and I feel myself getting damp. I need him. Whether he’s here or not.

I walk over to the shower and step inside, turning the heat up. I stand under the stream of water while the steam fogs up the shower doors and I exhale deeply. The showerhead nozzle is removable, and I take it off its stand and into my hands bringing the hot spray of water to my nipples and I lean back against the shower wall. I run my free hand down my body and to my pussy, shoving two fingers inside.

I close my eyes, removing myself completely from this world as I imagine that those fingers belong to Lucien. That as he does this he runs his tongue along my neck, kissing the ridges of them.

I shudder in repressed pleasure as I picture Lucien squeezing my tits and my ass. His giant body looking over mine before he ravished it. His thick, juicy cock quivering in desire before it begins to plunge into me.

Then I remove them and bring the hot stream of water of water to my clit. My entire body clenches under the growing, pulsing desire. I imagine that the hot pressure from the water is his mouth and the image is too much to carry. I throw my head back and let the orgasm overtake me, ridding it out until my legs stop shaking.