I swear if they ain't the best I ever tasted."
Reeves struggled to his feet as the trusty walked away.
"I'll kill him!" he swore tightly. "Honest to God, someday before I get out of here, I'll kill that nigger!"
There was an air of expectancy in the bunkhouse that night.
Max was stretched out on his bunk and the feeling was contagious. Suddenly, he wasn't tired any more. He couldn't sleep.
The guard had come and checked the leg irons, fastening each man to the bed post.
He had gone to the door and stood there for a moment. Then he laughed into the dark and went out.
Almost immediately, Max heard the scratch of a match, then a faint glow spread through the darkness. Max turned toward the light.
Somehow one of the men had got a candle. It burned almost gaily at the head of his bed.
There was a subdued sound of laughter in the room. Max heard a voice say,
"At leas' this time we can see what they look like."
"I don't care what they look like," another voice answered quickly, "as long as they got big tits."
Still another voice said raucously, "Your pecker won't know what to do, it's so used to yoh lily-white hand."
A soft laughter rippled through the room.
About a half hour passed. Max could hear the sounds of restless movements, men twisting anxiously in their bunks.
"You reckon maybe they won't show up?" a voice asked nervously.
"They'll show up, all right," another prisoner replied. "They been waitin' for this as long as we have."
"Sweet Jesus." An anguished voice came from the far end of the room. "I can't hold it no more. All day long I been thinkin' about them women, about tonight- " His voice trailed off in a hoarse moan.
For a moment, the room filled with the sounds of the men turning restlessly in their bunks.
Max felt the sweat come out on his forehead and his heart began to beat heavily.
He rolled over on his stomach, feeling the sweet, heavy warmth suddenly spread into his loins.
For a moment he writhed, caught in the fire of a wild desire, then angrily he forced himself to turn over. He rolled a cigarette with trembling fingers.
He felt shreds of the tobacco fall around him but he finally lit it and dragged the smoke deep into his lungs.
"They ain't comin'," a voice cried, almost on the verge of tears.
"They ain't nothin' but a bunch of cock-teasers!" another voice said angrily. "T’ hell with them."
Max lay quietly in his bunk, letting the smoke trickle through his nostrils.
The candle sputtered and flickered out and now the bunkhouse was pitch black.
Mike's voice came softly from the next bunk.
"How you doin' boy?"
"All right."
"Gimme a drag of that there butt."
Their hands touched briefly as Max silently held the cigarette out.
The cigarette glowed and cast a faint shine over Mike's face as he dragged on it.
"Don' worry, boy." His voice was soft and reassuring. "They'll show up any moment now the candle's out.
What those damn fools can't seem to understan' is them women don' want to see 'em, anymore'n they want theyselves to be seen."
A moment later, the bunkhouse door opened and the women began to come in.
They entered silently, their bare feet making the faintest whisper on the floor.
Max turned in his bunk, hoping he could catch a glimpse of the one that would come to him. But all he could see were shadows that entered and then were lost in the dark.
A hand touched his face. He started.
"Are you young or old?" a voice whispered.
"Young," he whispered back.
Her hand found his and brought it to her cheek.
For a moment, his fingers explored her face gently.
Her skin was soft and warm. He felt her lips tremble beneath his fingers.
"Do you want me to stay with you?" she whispered.
"Yes."
Swiftly she came into the bunk beside him and he buried his head to the softness of her bosom.
A great warmth and gentleness welled up inside him.
As if from a great distance, he heard a man across the room begin to cry softly.
"My darling," he said, "my darling wife. You don't know how I've missed you."