It’s not what you might think. I once visited a maximum security women’s prison.(Alabama’s Julia Tutwiler)
Some guy and his wife insisted that I go with them down there for a “visitor’s night” or something. I forget exactly what it was called. Having nothing better to do that night than ride 60 miles down to Tutwiler, I went with them.
After the guards shook us down to be sure we didn’t have any sharp objects or similar items, we were ushered down a hall to a room about the size of a meeting room in a community center. Folding chairs were set up in rows, to watch some films. There were cookies and punch on a table at the front of the room.
After about 15 visitors showed up, they locked the door we came through and ushered a bunch of the inmates in through another door. The inmates were dressed in white shirts and light blue pants.
All the rest of the visitors took seats in the front row. The prisoners were filed into seats behind them.
I’d been standing near the back, watching. There was an empty seat on the end of one row next to a nice looking 30-something woman, so that’s where I sat.
Me: “Hi, I’m John.”
She: “I’m Diane. I’m an inmate.”
Me, nodding: “Yeah.”
She: “No, you don’t understand. I’m a prisoner here.”
Me, puzzled: “Yes, I gathered that.”
She: “Why ain’t you sittin’ with the other guests?”
Me: “I thought I came here to visit with prisoners.”
She: “Most guests are afraid. Besides, I’m in here for armed robbery and attempted murder. Ain’t you afraid?”
Me: “No. What happened?”
She: “Me and my boyfriend were doin’ gas stations in Mobile. We were goin’ great for a while. Then one went sour and he had to shoot some guy. Then they got serious about catchin’ us and here I am.”
Me: “How long you been here?”
She: Four years. I might get paroled in another four or five years, if I’m lucky."
Guard: “Knock off the talking. Film’s starting.”
After the film, there was about 20 minutes of milling about, eating cookies and drinking punch. Again, I was the only guest talking to an inmate. The other guests stuck together in a wad at the front of the room.
Then one of the guests got up front and said what a nice time we’d all had, there was a religious hymn sung (by some) and we were escorted back down the hall and outside to our cars.
Freakin’ twilight zone experience. Anyway, I’m glad I went. Sure as hell was a different sort of way to spend an evening.
I don’t understand why the other guests bothered to go there, if they weren’t going to talk to the prisoners. Maybe they think they got brownie points in heaven or something.
No, I didn’t work up pen pals with the woman I met there, and I never went back. Once was enough!
If you want an erotic scene, a women’s prison ain’t the place to go. There’s nothing sexy about it. Sad, depressing, messed up, yeah, but erotic it ain’t.
PS: plnnr, I understand that you were joking, but I couldn’t resist this opportunity to demonstrate my vast experience and wisdom in the area of women’s prisons. 
