So you had a day off from work, and usually one would have a rest day or a picnic or a trip or something, right? Well, you thought: "hey, those London prisons have added a program for inmates to write letters to people who write to them, why not do that?"

So you went onto the website and stumbled through all the prisoners' profiles. One looked promising. Big guy called Simon. His history didn't look that bad since he was in for aggravated assault. It also said that he was a army vet. He also apparently reduced his sentence for good behavior, and was months away from release.

So you started sending him letters, and he sent letters to you. They were sweet, about how he didn't think the program would benefit him, and that he was glad you were there for him, in a way. You sent him pictures so that he knew what you looked like, and he gentlemanly confessed wanking it to the snapshots. Hell, you even visited him on the scheduled days. This went on for months, and he asked you in one of the last few letters before his chance for parole, if you'd maybe like to pick him up and perhaps let him stay with you until he could get a job. The answer was obvious.

You stood there, at the penitentiary entrance, waiting for your impromptu love of your life, and there he was, in all his rugged glory. A guard escorted him out to you, but there was no need to, he was gentle and easy-going, smiling as his eyes reached your face. You had to sign a couple docs, and he was all yours.

" 'Anks for bein' such a good pen pal, princess." he smiled down at you as his handcuffs were being unlocked.