Page 14 of Guess Again

Boscobel, Wisconsin Tuesday, July 8, 2025

SHE ARRIVED AT THE WISCONSIN SECURE PROGRAM FACILITY AT JUST past noon.

Located in Boscobel, Wisconsin, roughly two and a half hours from Milwaukee, it was one of the state’s highest security prisons.

Her visitation time was 1:30 p.m., but she arrived early.

She knew the hassles of getting through security, answering the intake questions, and dealing with the roadblocks that were intentionally set in place to discourage family, friends, and loved ones from making the trip out to the prison.

But no amount of red tape could dissuade her.

She passed through the first layer of security—the questionnaire, metal detectors, and the body search, and eventually made it into the bowels of the building.

It was there, in the interior of the prison, far removed from the external walls, that security cameras were strategically missing or out of service, and where the guards had free reign.

In the darkened hallways they touched her inappropriately on the small of her back and even lower than that as they ushered her through doors and around corners.

No laws existed in this part of the prison.

If you didn’t like what happened here, the only option was to stop coming. She did nothing but smile at the overly touchy and faux-polite guards who got off on touching her. When she finally arrived at the visitation area, the guard reached over her shoulder to open the door, and she heard him inhale as he sniffed her hair. It was enough to make her skin crawl, but she accepted it because she was almost there.

Finally, she sat down at the booth.

A moment later, the door on the other side of the glass opened and Francis emerged.

He was even more handsome in person.

His blue eyes were piercing, tiny oases in otherwise dark-rimmed orbits.

He kept his hair tightly cropped, different than how he’d looked before entering prison. She credited the haircut to whatever gangs Francis had been forced to join to stay safe inside. She preferred his hair longer but would never tell him that. Perhaps soon he’d be able to grow it out again. Someday, when they were together. When they could interact with one another directly rather than through a thick plate of glass. She believed that day was not only possible, but inevitable.

Francis smiled at her when he sat down and lifted the phone to his ear.

She did the same and for a long moment she simply listened to him breathe.

She’d dreamt about him last night.

Her cheeks flushed now as she remembered the fantasy and what she’d allowed him to do to her.

Francis placed his open palm to the glass.

She did the same.

“Eugenia?” he asked.

She nodded.

“The only way this will work is if you do everything I ask, and never deviate from the plan.”

“I haven’t yet,”

she said, hypnotized by his presence.

“I haven’t asked you to do the difficult things yet.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”