I will never know how I got into all this. I was an eighteen year old senior in high school ready to graduate in a couple weeks. My grades were good, my ACTs and SATs were great. I had applied to three really good colleges and been accepted by all three. I had chosen the very best, Brighton University, an excellent, small private school. My parents had set up a college fund for me years ago and I had added two very attractive scholarship packages. My life was about as good as it could get. 

I was very popular, well dressed and coddled by over protective parents. I did not come from a broken home. I did not do drugs, nor smoke, nor drink, nor hang out with trashy kids.

I had only one concern about leaving for college in the fall, my new boyfriend. For the first time I actually had a boyfriend.

My parents had always been very overprotective of me. I am an only child. All through grade school and the first two years of high school they really discouraged my dating in any fashion; even in a group. I was always popular, had lots of friends, but my relationship with boys had been very limited until recently.

About four months ago, I had started to date Kyle Wainright. This was a big step in my young life. Kyle was an all round good guy: top student, president of our senior class, and a good soccer player. We knew one another very well. All through high school we had been together in classes and in the same group of friends. My parents, and Kyle’s parents, knew one another as well and approved of our dating at this point, but it was clear they were trying to discourage any real intimacy between us.

Looking back, it was so obvious: we were both only children and our parents were live vicariously through us. They had all these great plans for our futures, but really these plans were their plans. We were to avoid all pitfalls and really achieve something with our lives.

So Kyle and I had been good friends for a long time, but nothing more until the last few months. Now we were actually “going together”.

We were the cute couple. He was tall, handsome and in very good shape. He had nice longer, light brown, hair, and dark eyes which were striking. We looked good together, but it was our personalities that were the real winners. You could tell kids at school wanted to be in our group. Even adults, like our parents, found our relationship attractive. Kyle liked my friends and I liked his, which seemed unusual at my school. He was one very nice guy to hang out with. We had fun together.

As time passed and we actually started to date exclusively, the question of sex came up, of course. He began to make it clear he wanted to move our relationship in that direction. He talked a lot about commitment and I did feel committed to him, but I had very strong opinions about sex. I had watched too many kids my age make some very bad life decisions, and sex by far was the most common mistake. Sex was not going to happen for me until much later.

First, I have to admit to you, I was aware of a very strong sexual curiosity deep within me, but I assured that it never surfaced when Kyle was around. I knew my limitations when it came to intimacy and even heavy petting was out of the question. I worried that I would not be able to handle very tempting situations.

My virginity was very important to me. First, I had a very strong moral issue with sex before marriage...it was just wrong...it was dangerous... but also, my sexual innocence was such an important part of my persona...my self-image. I was the cute virgin and I liked playing that role.

Now put on top of that, health class had really scared me. The thought of disease or unwanted pregnancy really bothered me. The pictures were terrible and the text so vividly portrayed all the bad stuff that could happen. Frankly, health classes in high school had scared the crap out of me.

For all these reasons I wanted nothing to do with sex at this age. Kyle and I had kissed and hugged some, but I was not going let him go further. From time to time, he would get all over me to move even part way to the next level, but I skillfully and emphatically resisted. Sex was not going to happen and I needed to avoid the temptations that I knew I could not handle if things went too far.

I liked my image and in spite of his protestations I knew Kyle liked it as well. He liked who I was. I was the cute, sweet, innocent virgin; and I was convinced he liked that. I was the consistently happy, carefree one in our little crowd and I was always the center of attention. 

None the less, it was going to be hard to leave Kyle and go to college in the fall.

My family was also a consideration when leaving for school. I could not have a more loving and supportive mother and dad. They were both very busy with business, activities, and friends, but they found time to be involved in my life as well.

Here is something very important to this story. My parents were very active socially and went out of their way to include me. Looking back that is another way of saying...they liked to show me off. I was very cute and very successful in school and they wanted all these people to know. There were many times around their country club friends, when they would just brag on me to the point of embarrassment. I have to admit it was a thin line for me, because up to a point I found all the flattery exciting. I know I glowed with embarrassment, but also appreciation. Their friends were, for the most part, older so they made me somebody very special in their circle. I was the center of attention.

My dad was a wonderful, successful guy and several of these people were business associates.

He was doing very well in a very large international trading company, Aronow & Associates. He made tons of money but he had to travel a lot. He was important. He had business friends all over the world and was constantly in contact with someone, somewhere.

Dad and I had always been close and as I grew older it was obvious how proud he was of me. As I move through my high school years our relationship had just grown stronger. My world was changing and he was traveling internationally more and more, but he still made time for his Caroline.

I was no longer his little buddy, but I had become a young woman he clearly admired. Our relationship was about perfect, he was always there for me, but he knew when to step back a little as well.

He bought me a new Ford Mustang for graduation; cute, blue, I love it. He gave it to me early in my senior year so I could get used to driving it while still at home, but that was just his excuse. He really wanted me to have fun with it while I was still in high school. I had a great dad.

Mother was also very much on my team. I was still her little girl. She had not been able to see me as an adult yet, but she could not have been more supportive. She just flat doted on me. She arranged everything from my hair to my shoes to make sure I was always looked my very best.

My mother had been a Miss Michigan finalist while in college. Many, including my Dad, said I resembled her a lot; blonde hair, blue eyes; with a slim shapely build. I was a bit taller than my friends, perhaps a little smaller in the top; but, but, but, I had a butt to remember. It was by far my best “asset” according to my amigos.

I had three very close friends from my class at school. We had been buddies since freshman year. We were known everywhere as the four amigos. We were together whenever possible. We were the group all the kids wanted to hang with—we were the cute girls. To us it seemed like all the girls wanted to emulate us and all the boys wanted to date us.

This last year, our senior year, we had started to spread our wings together. We now had more freedom at home and transportation. One of our most interesting routine events was to run over to the mall after school several times a week. Sometimes we might buy a little something, or get a soda, but mostly we just walked around together and jabber about things.

Think about it. We were seventeen years old and we had nothing more interesting or important to do after school than to go to the shopping mall and waste time. None of us had part time jobs. We didn’t need them. None of us were in music or sports or extracurricular activities or anything that mattered. We were so lazy and coddled.

Looking back it is very clear; our lives had only one glaring shortcoming...we were bored, very bored.

This might be very hard to understand, but it is very important to this story. Day after day we went through the same routine with no motivation to change. We were upper class kids, from well to do families, with everything handed to us. 

Consider the subject of money. Money was never an issue. In my case, my Dad gave me money whenever I needed. I had my own credit card and he made sure the monthly balance was always paid, no questions asked. In fact, often he would just leave money on my dresser. My friends all seemed to have plenty of resources as well.

My parents, my school, the entire community did everything to assure life was good and safe. All I had to do was fall in line and move along with those things expected of me, and that was fun to do. The track ahead could not have been more clear...college, marriage, and a predictable upper middle class future with two or three kids.

The boredom was impossible for us to recognize, but looking back it was the big negative issue. There was something missing from our lives, for sure. The highpoint of our typical day was the typical afternoon trips to the mall and the typical silly things we said and did there, nothing more.

We were so complacent and bored, but we just didn’t recognize it.

THE MALL

So we come to a fateful day in mid May, just a couple weeks before graduation. School was out at three...as usual...and the four amigos were at the mall by three thirty.

I drove separately this time. My plan was to simply walk around at the mall for a short while with the amigos, then leave them and run to Mallmart alone to buy some makeup and head home. I wanted to be home in time to change and go to a soccer game beginning at six. Kyle was playing and I wanted to surprise him by being there to watch. 

Dad was out of town and mother would be gone for the evening. She was with a group of her Country Club ladies, setting up for a charity auction.

Dinner for me would be “on the fly” as I passed through the house on way to the soccer match.

Everything went as planned. I got to the Mall on time and met them at the entry. I was feeling very euphoric, almost what you could call a “high”. I loved the games we played at the mall.

The four of us walked around the mall catching the attention of a good many guys who were just walking around the mall as well. Some of them we knew from school, some we knew from the mall, others, were complete strangers. No matter, the attention of these boys was very exciting...I had to admit it...and no one got more or their attention than I did.    

I really looked great. I was wearing my favorite outfit; a short dark red pleated skirt and a white sleeveless top with a little black vest. This skirt was very cute, but very short.

Like several of my other skirts, it had been a subject of discussion at home. Dad typically thought most of my skirts showed way too much, while my mother thought most of them were ok. But, this particular skirt was among the shortest and both mother and dad agreed this skirt should stay in the closet. For me it was ok...it was a lot of fun to wear.

On this fateful morning they were both gone from the house before I dressed for school, so this little cute skirt was in for a happy day. I had not had it on for a long time. I knew I would have to be careful all the time. It was so short and I only wore little white panties underneath, but it felt so sexy, so decadent.

Frankly, I have to be honest; I really got off on the wearing shorter skirts. My butt was my very best feature and I really had great looking legs as well, sooooo in a short skirt, I got a lot of attention. As I walked I could feel the hem of the skirt moving against the back of my upper legs and that caused a wonderful tingle.

I knew we would be doing a safari to the mall after school. This outfit, and the responses I would get from the guys when wearing it, created an excitement which would increase with each move I made throughout the day.

Looking back I cannot believe how aroused I would get. There were times when I wondered if I could drive safely after school.   

Now for a final point on this subject of my sexuality...the subject was such a conflict for me...a major conflict. For a long time, I had a tremendous battle going on deep within me...a battle between good and evil.

I referred to myself as the reluctant virgin and wearing a cute outfit like this provided a constant reinforcement of my conflict.

On one hand, I would get such pleasure wearing something sexy and flirting with guys until they practically cried...all the time convinced I was completely in control of the situation. While every moment, I had this sexual thing deep seated within me... a passion...that I was certain could go out of control if I ever let the situation get even slightly out of hand.

This unrequited passion deep within me was never mentioned to anyone...not even the amigos. I kept it well hidden. It scared me.

Thus, this conflict raged within me. I loved to wear the outfits, flirt, and go wild with the game, but I constantly was on guard with a firm resolve to arrive at my wedding as a moral virgin.

For the amigos at the mall, talk was such important thing. This afternoon was no exception.

As soon as we got in the corridor, we began to run into several groups of guys who tried to corner us into conversation and move along with us. It was flattering but we had perfected the art of “flirt and flee”. We had invented that term to describe what we did, and we used it often as we talked, teased and terminated with one group after another.

Right away there had been two groups of tall weird looking black guys who really tested our game. In both cases they were particularly insistent, tagging along making rude comments about how a white girl would “get off” on a “date” with one of them. Frankly they scared me. They looked and acted like criminals. A few even tried getting me alone at one point, surrounding me, suggesting we go in their car to get ice cream outside the mall.

There were a lot of gangs who roamed the corridors at the mall and there was always tension when we passed them. They dressed like a bunch of young gangster...their comments were crude and cheep. Unlike the white guys who tried to befriend us, come on to us and get to know us... these black guys tried to intimidate us into having an interest in them.

We had frequently talked about how crude and worrisome they were and we tried to avoid them.

When we did have to pass a bunch of them, I tried to remain in the middle of the amigos. It was clear to us that a lot of their nasty comments were directed at me. I was the only one of the amigos with light hair and blue eyes and that seemed to get me a lot of unwanted crap from them.

My amigos tried to protect me by keeping me in the middle and moving us along with appropriate snide comments, but the attentions of these young black guys really stirred up concerns inside me. They would often get very specific and personal with their sexual innuendoes. They were insistent about trying to get phone numbers and trying to hook up later.

Frequently, as we went around at the mall, we would get into a titter about fat white women dragging half-breed black babies around. Considering the undesirable antics of the young black criminals that were always bugging us, we had to wonder how any white woman would end up that way. To us, it seemed impossible that they would have actually wanted to have sex with something like that. The little black kids could be so cute, but the white pregnant mothers were a spectacle. Their waddle was a hoot for us. What a show. They gave the bored minds of the amigos a lot of entertainment.

 Other conversations we frequently had at the mall were about fat people and the embarrassing things they would wear. We were young, slim and cute, and I was the cutest. We had so much good chatter about fat “trailer court” men with “plumber butt”, and even fatter women. They would put on outfits that were so weird and funny it could make you choke.

Anyhow, we were at the mall...occupying our bored minds for a while with the usual games as we moved along the corridors.

Today was going to be a bit of an exception to our routine safari in that I had less time than normal.  I had plans for the soccer game and I was anxious to get out of the mall and on my way. All these mall games and titters would have to wait.

It was four by the time I left the others and was in my Mustang headed to Mallmart to get the things I needed. I was a bit behind schedule. I was hurrying. I was really upbeat about the whole idea of surprising Kyle at his soccer game.

I parked, went into Mallmart and headed directly down the aisles toward the cosmetics section. I was in a hurry. No shopping today. I knew exactly what I wanted...special lipstick and eyeliner. I knew right where it was...I didn’t even look from side to side. I just rushed along.

The store was crowded. It took several minutes for me to get all the way back through the store, find what I wanted, pay for it, and head back out. I was really getting late now.

As I hurried back through the aisles toward the exit I realized I had been given an extra large shopping bag for the three little cosmetic items I purchased. It was way bigger than I needed and hard to handle as I rushed along. My mind had just settled on the notion that she must have been out of smaller bags in cosmetics as I was hustling by the electronics section.

There, sticking right out in the aisle; was a big display of the new Play Station Four. I was really hurrying along, but the display caught my attention.  It came clear out into the aisle. A sudden little titillation and I reached over to drop one in my shopping bag without even slowing down. It was a relatively small box, my shopping bag was way bigger than it should have been, and that was it, I just hurried on my way.

An undeniable thrill welled up inside me as I rushed along. It grew into an intense thrilly-dilly funny feeling by the time I was beyond the electronics section and headed toward the exits. 

I had never thought about doing anything like this. Stealing something had never crossed my mind. I always had money. I could buy anything I wanted. But this instant thrill was something else. It made the little thrills I got teasing the boys, pale by comparison.

I had no need for the Play Station Four. I did not even know what it did. We amigos had talked about a PS4 a while back, but I don’t think any of us wanted one. We had just heard it advertised a lot.

I knew taking it was very wrong. I knew it was illegal.

Looking back, I shoplifted it just for an intense cheap thrill.

As I moved through the aisles this thrill began to get stronger and stronger and become combined with a strange erotic concern as I moved along toward the exit.

I feared setting something off. The tensions grew even more rapidly. I moved faster toward the exit. I noticed two very large black security guards walking a ways behind me. I had to keep moving faster; to slow down might be suspicious.

I began to worry. This was not a good idea.

I had a panicky thought to just drop the entire shopping bag on a counter somewhere. I really didn’t need the cosmetics. A glance behind told me the guards had gotten closer. They were talking and looking around rather nonchalantly, but now they seemed to be following me. Maybe it was just my guilty conscious, but they seemed to be right behind me as I passed the checkout counters toward the exits.

All I could do was keep a straight face and walk on out. I remember my heart beating in my ears. There was a nervous lump in my throat. I had never done anything like this. What was I thinking?

As I approached the automatic doors, the two guards were right behind me, and as I went out the doors I was met by two more guards coming in. The four of them surrounded me just outside the exit, one showed me credentials, as together they walked me into a small security room just to the right of the door.

It was the ultimate trauma of my young life. The momentary trill had been replaced by stark reality. I was a wreck. I could hardly walk. I was choking. I could not speak. Tears were running down my face.

THE INQUISITION

Once in the security office I was told to sit in a straight chair along the wall. I could feel my eyes filling with tears. I sat down and stared at the floor. I was shaking all over.

Three of the guards turned and left the room, leaving me alone with the older and larger guy. He was scary, black, and big, with close cut hair and a military bearing. He didn’t say a word. He just walked over, sat on the edge of the small desk, and looked down at me. Minutes passed as he continued to look at me sternly while I looked at the floor, sweating. The room kept getting smaller and smaller. I was having trouble breathing. I felt like I was choking.

Finally, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the guards returning with a small computer memory stick. He placed it into a PC on the desk, said something to the big guard and left the room.

Immediately a flat screen on the wall came alive.

It was then the senior guy spoke to me for the first time,

“Young lady, do you know why we apprehended you?”

There was nothing to be gained by arguing.

“Yes, I think so.”

I whispered in fright. I was shaking all over.

He hesitated just looking down at me very sternly,

“I must warn you, this is being recorded. Everything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?”

I nodded, yes.

“I want you to stand up, take the stolen merchandise from your bag, and place it on the table.  Also I want you to put your driver’s license and the credit card you used today on the table for identification. Your card and drivers license will be returned once photographed.”

I stood up, and as I reached down to get the shopping bag I was shocked by just how very short my skirt really was. No wonder my dad had been upset whenever I wanted to wear it.

The big guard was watching every move I made. I shook all over.

My vest was the small open type. Under it, my blouse was thin and revealing. I tied to wrap the vest around me and hold it in place across my breasts with one hand as I struggled to place the required items on the table with the other. My attempts to keep it closed failed.

Each time I bent down for an item my vest fell completely open and each time I looked up he was staring at me. Fear was causing me to show clearly through my thin bra and blouse. He could clearly see the outline of my nipples. Pulses of additional fear passed through me. Why had I worn such seductive things to a shopping mall?

A flat screen on the wall showed everything I was doing; each move was being recorded. What I had put on to tease the boys in the mall was now putting on a seductive show for this guard each time I moved. 

Once I was finished putting the contents of my shopping bag on the table, I gathered my vest around me and turned to face my accuser. I was unstable. I fell back against the table for support. He pointed over at the chair against the wall. I struggled over and sat down carefully adjusting my skirt.

I was sobbing,

“I am sorry. I know what I did was wrong. Please let me just pay for it. I have plenty of money.”

I turned a little and pointed at the Play Station.

“That one thing is all I took...the rest I paid for. I have no idea why I took it. I don’t even want it. You have it right there. I just made a terrible mistake. Please let me go...”

I kept sobbing. I was stammering, saying what ever came to my mind.

He looked at me with a scowl I will never forget. I felt so trapped. There was not one pleasant thing about him. He was so black, so enormous; he was scary, plain scary,

“Young lady it is nowhere near that simple. You are a shoplifter, caught dead to rights. It could not have been clearer. From the moment you took the product, you had no intention of paying for it. Shoplifting is a major crime and one we address very strongly here. When you shoplift you are as guilty as someone who robs a bank. That PS4 you shoplifted is valued at over five hundred dollars so that makes your crime a felony; a major felony. Do you understand?”

I nod slightly; tears were now streaming down my face. I was shaking uncontrollably.

His look turned even colder,

“My main job here is to keep shoplifting to an absolute minimum and I am damn good at doing just that. This company prosecutes to the limit. That is the only way to stop it.”

He froze for a moment looking directly at me. I was crying and shaking uncontrollably.

His face seemed to turn lighter. I knew I looked terrible scared and terrible cute. Was my regret getting to him?

Not so...his eyes never left me...his looks hardened again...he went back at it,

“Sometimes with these young kids and little items, just scaring the hell out them can be effective, but that is not the case here. Your shoplifting was a felony and you are clearly old enough to know damn well what you were doing and the consequences if you got caught.”

He hesitated and scowled at me.

“Do you want to see the evidence against you? There are security cameras and security personnel everywhere in this store. I have two guards who witnessed and reported you, and clear security camera record of you shoplifting in electronics, rushing outward past the check out to the exit with the item, then removing said item from your bag here in the office while admitting for the record you committed the felony. Do you want to see the tape?”

I shook my head, no. 

All I could do was look down at the floor as I tried to control my tears.

He paced back and forth. For the moment he seemed to be lost as to what to do next.

“I assume you’ve done things like this before? Do you have a criminal record?”

I shook my head no.

He looked at me sternly,

“Yah, I’ll bet. I will never understand you shitheads that are dumb enough to do this. It seems like it gets it in your blood. It becomes a habit. You didn’t need this stuff. It isn’t like you were starving and stealing food. You just wanted the trill. It’s like taking drugs to get high.”

I sat silently, shaking; tears streamed down my face. My teeth were chattering. Each breath was coming as a gasp. I was perspiring all over.

He stood there staring down at me. It seemed like forever. Maybe he was bending to the appeal of my tears. He had lectured me severely. Perhaps he now felt he had done enough. Maybe he was finished.

I glanced up. His black features seemed to have softened just a little.

I struggled to look at him directly,

“Please, please, I am a good person, I have never shoplifted before. I have never stolen anything. Please, believe me. If you have me arrested you will ruin my life.”

Once more his looks turned harsh,

“I guess you should have thought about that before you stole this stuff, sister. What are you suggesting; that I risk my job, violate company policy, and just let you go? You realize my company has the witnesses, right? I’m not the one who caught you; I’m just the one who has to deal with it.”

His look turned darker and darker as he paced back and forth.

“Shit!”

He retorted in disgust as he walked over to a control box on the desk and the video screen went blank. He had shut it off. He was not recording any more. He probably was going to let me off with a warning.

He came back across the room toward me with a strange look on his face.

I looked up at him.

“Please, would you let me go?”

I stammered.

He stared down at me fiercely,

“Little kids that come in the store and do this are one thing...we can scare the shit out of them and they will never do it again...but this is something else. Teenage tramps like you come in here and steal just for the cheap thrill. You’re type will try it again and again until you get put in the slammer. Your type finds it as addictive as drugs. You’re just a bum on the road to destruction and the only way to stop the whole thing is to have you booked and let you face a judge.”

I squirmed in my chair. He watched every move I made. He stood looking at me way too long, like he really didn’t want to do what he had to do. Finally, he gave me this strange look,

“How about this; you want out of this? Well, I’ll have those security guards come in here and you deal with them. After all they’re the ones that caught you. Maybe they’ll bargain with you. That way their jobs will be on the line and not mine. They know your type. Who knows what they’ll want but maybe you can convince them to kill the tape and let you go. That would solve the problem for both of us.

He stopped and just looked at me.

What do you think about that?”

I sat frozen.

Was he suggesting what I thought? Was he suggesting I bribe those two guys? Was he suggesting I buy off those guards with money...with sex? He was looking at me like he expected a response. Was he testing me?

Maybe he thought I would just agree; like I was a little rich girl who would pay with money...or a promiscuous tramp who would pay another way. Like one way or the other I would jump at the chance to pay off the guards and get out of this. Was he testing or was he just playing a horrible game with me?

I sat shaking. I could not look up from the floor.

It seemed like several minutes passed with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and my occasional sob.

When I did not respond he turned angrier,

“Well, guess you don’t like that idea, sweetheart. That’s ok. Who knows what they would want a young tramp like you to do.”

He looked at me with a harsh grin and walked over to the desk,

“Let’s get this over with.”

He sat down at the desk, lifted the receiver, and then hesitated, looking across the room at me with his fingers over the buttons. I couldn’t read anything his face...it had gone sort of angry blank. He sat with the phone in his hand looking at me so strangely. It was like he needed to convince himself. Like maybe he just thought I needed a final lecture before execution.

“You’re just another criminal shoplifter. We got you dead to rights on a felony rap. The police are used to this. They will have you down town and booked in thirty minutes. The judge will set your bond later this afternoon. Your daddy can come down, post bail and get you out. Then you just face the court case and the penalty. I suspect a good expensive lawyer can keep the sentence for a felony reasonable. Time served, court costs and a heavy fine.”

He sat still holding the phone, looking at me with increasingly strange expressions, hesitating. I could not be more scared. He had come to the end. He had done everything he could do, short of making the phone call. He had thoroughly lectured me, threatened me, and scared me senseless, and now he had brought this to the pivotal moment. It was all over except the call.

I had to do something, right then, or it was over...he would make the call. I had to beg. It was my last chance. Once he made that call, my life would be ruined...arrest, court, jail, and a felony record. Nothing could be worse. All the hopes and dreams my family had for me would be lost. I had to do anything I could to keep him from calling.

I remember gathering all my courage, looking up at him directly and just begging,

“Please, please don’t call. Don’t you realize what it would do to me? You will ruin my life.”

I was shaking from head to toe. Tears were flowing down my face.

“Please, please don’t call.”

I was unable to say anything more. I looked directly into his eyes and sat shaking.

He looked at me with an expression that was impossible to read. Was I winning or losing?

Did he realize how scared I was...how much I regretted stealing? Had he started to feel sorry for me? Or had it gone the other way...did he believe I thought his whole thing was an act and he never really intended to have me arrested.

He said nothing...his expression said nothing. I could not just sit still and run the risk. I needed to do anything I could to keep him from calling. This was so critical. My entire life was on the line.  

I knew the outfit was way too short, but it did make me look very appealing. I had to do anything to keep him from calling the police.

I turned in the chair making no effort to straighten my skirt. I could feel the hem move upward on my legs. I knew more was showing for sure.

Was he watching? Did he appreciate how cute I was?

I looked directly at him.

Yes!!

His eyes were fixed on my legs. His expression told me instantly he had noticed. A fixed hypnotized expression had replaced all the previous anger.

How high had my skirt moved when I turned? I could not look down. I had no way to know. But, his face said for the moment it had been high enough.

Slowly his black face became contorted with a new expression. Had he sensed what I was trying to do? For the first time I became aware he was breathing very heavily. Maybe the stress was getting to him. Something had changed for sure.  

He hung up the phone, stood up, and looked across at me.

He spoke very slowly almost like he was in a trance,

“On second thought I’ll just deal with this myself. I guess you want to get off the hook real bad; right?”

I nodded, yes, without looking away from him.

He pointed to the side of his desk.

“Well get over here!”

I stood up and walked cautiously toward the desk.

He was watching every move I made but I didn’t care.  It was clear I had changed his mind about immediately calling the police. The phone was hung up. I was winning.

Just watching his eyes as I moved across the room told me that my short skirt had won this initial reprieve for me...an additional nudge could only help further. I was cute from head to toe. I needed to use everything I had.

I let my vest hang open freely as I walked toward the desk. I knew my breasts were aroused and clearly visible through my thin garments. It worked as well. His eyes moved upward from my skirt, hesitated, and then started to move up and down my body...his gaze never left me...and his expression seemed to keep improving as I approached his desk. This had to be a good thing.

At least for now the phone was forgotten.

“Lean over this desk, sister.”

He ordered, as he came around from behind the desk. His face was dark and filled emotion. He was very serious, but the important thing to me was...he was moving further away from that phone.

Was he going to spank me? What embarrassment. He had said, with younger kids, threats of a spanking seemed to work. I went limp as I leaned part way over the desk.

He came around behind me and, and with a firm left hand on my back, pushed me down onto the desk. What in the world was this? What an embarrassing position. This was terrible. I lay there in a heap.

Then a light bulb came on in my head that dominated all else. At least I was winning. No calls had been made. I could put up with a little humiliation.

Bending me over this desk had to really help my case with this big black ugly monster. In this position this short skirt had to work to my advantage. He was behind me. I could envision how cute I looked. No way would he be able to hit me very hard. My butt was just too appealing.

I was feeling better and better. No way would he call the police now. Maybe a couple embarrassing smacks...maybe not even that... and I would be out the door. I was home free. The phone was forgotten. I had won.

He moved up close behind me. I felt his left hand firmly on my back holding me down. I waited for the first smack on my butt. It seemed like he held me in this position forever. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the room. Then finally he sort of whispered,

“Here’s your deal, lady. See the phone right in front of you, you can hand it to me and I will make the call, or...”

It seemed like he waited forever; like he couldn’t figure out what to say next.

Finally, the pressure of his big hand moved up my back under my hair.

“Do you want to let me take care of things right here, right now, and then just let you go?”

What the hell did he mean? What was he waiting for? Why did he not just smack me? If he thought I needed to be more frightened, to pay a bigger price for shoplifting, he was now succeeding. I had no idea what he wanted me to say...what he expected me to do. All I could think of was to beg.

I summoned all my strength,

“Sir please; please...Listen to me. I made a terrible mistake. I am a good person. Getting arrested would ruin my life. Please, let me go...“

He interrupted by whispering somewhere down close to my right ear.

“You’re sure you don’t just want me to make the call.”

I froze,

“Please, please, anything; just don’t call the police.”

I stammered and waited for him to smack me.

Slowly, his free right hand lifted the back of my skirt while his left hand still held me pinned to the desk. I was mortified. The thought of him spanking me was unbelievable embarrassing.

I waited, only to feel him start sliding my panties downward behind me. I tightened my legs together as much as I could, but my panties were taken clear to the floor.

More humiliation; was he actually going to spank me on my bare butt?

“Well here it is, sister; the choice is yours. One or the other...let’s get this over with...just let me know what you want. It’s your choice. Reach over there and give me that phone...or move your legs apart.”

With that, it was very clear for the first time; he wasn’t going to spank me.

I heard his zipper. I felt him come against me, and I felt pressure. He was so hard...so firm. The pressure moved up and down along me. I could feel moisture. His breathing was all I could hear in the room and it was getting louder and louder.

He hesitated,

“So it would seem this is what you want, right?”

He whispered back down next to my ear.

I couldn’t move. He had one hand firmly on the back of my neck holding me down. He had the other hand guiding himself against me. He stopped there, waiting; it seemed like forever. The side of my face was pressed to the desk. I was facing a wall.

This was such a misunderstanding. I was mortified—frozen in place. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. I tried again and again, but I managed nothing but a choking sob.

Then his pressure started increasing driving the front of my legs against the edge of the desk. It seemed like he was pushing it against me hard enough to move the desk, but the other side of the desk was against the wall.

Then he changed a little and the pressure would increase and then decrease as he explored up and down against me.

After a few more minutes he stopped and once again leaned down right next to my ear,

“So what’s the verdict sister? Say the word; is this what you want? Move your legs apart and take a little of this and you’re out the door.”

In that moment, it seemed like my whole world depended on just getting the shoplifting behind me and getting out of there.

I nodded and move my legs apart just a little.

That was it. The pressure increased until it was unbearable. It hurt terribly. The fronts of my legs were being cut by the metal edge of the desk. I felt my vagina being opened slightly, horrible pain! I moaned,

“Oh please don’t. Please. It hurts. It hurts so badly. I am a virgin. Please!”

He decreased the pressure. He hesitated. Perhaps he was convinced he was making a big mistake. I could still feel the very end firmly against me, but none of the pressure.

He waited in that position. He seemed to wait forever. His heavy breathing subsided. The pressure on the back of my neck decreased as well.

Finally he bent down very close behind me and whispered,

“Guess you think this is going to hurt too much. Do you want me to stop...do you want to just hand me that phone?”

He waited.

I was aware of nothing but his slight intrusion. I couldn’t say a word.
He whispered again,

“I guess you think this is going to hurt too much. Should I quit and just make the call?”

“No! Please don’t call!”

I sobbed and tried to adjust my legs back from the sharp edge of the desk. As I did my legs moved apart slightly further and that was all it took. In one unforgettable horrible move he lunged forward. Unbelievable pain; I let out a scream. His hand slapped around to cover my mouth.

He lunged again, and again. Inch by inch, thrust after thrust...there was no question what was happening. First he gained a little entry, then a lunge and he split my virginity; then, thrust by thrust, inch by inch, he invaded, deeper and deeper. The pain was excruciating.

He kept driving harder and harder until finally, is seemed he could go no deeper. He was fully inside my body.

He kept working for a while longer trying to get deeper, and then he stopped and withdrew just a little, like he was resting. His heavy breathing subsided. I could feel him deep within me, but as his pushing into me had stopped and the pain had let up a good bit.

I could not move from under him. His full weight was solidly on top of me. As I lay there exhausted, waiting, the pain subsided even more.

Then he began moving in and out...ever so slightly...deep inside.  

Somewhere in the process I had begun to sob quietly. His hand released from my mouth.

Then he stopped everything. He was finished. It was over. He was still deep in me, but all I could feel was a pulsating sensation deep inside me. No real pain now, no pressure, just this repeated sensation deep in my vagina. Was it my heart beat? Was it his?

He had taken me, and now he was just resting quietly on top of me. I lay there beneath him; my mind going wild. There was no way he would call the police now. It was over. I was home free.

I had been fucked...screwed...by this enormous black man who was twice my age. Everything I held sanctimonious about myself was gone forever. I had paid the biggest possible price. I was no longer the cute virgin school girl. I was a low life slut who had just been fucked by the biggest blackest man I had ever seen, but it was over.

Embarrassment started to overcome me. I could feel my face getting warmer and warmer. My heart was racing. This was terrible, but it was over. I needed to get away. He was so big, so heavy. He had me pinned to the desk, but he was done moving.

I tried to move from under him, but my attempt to move backward off the table brought me back firmly against him and moved him deeper inside me. This brought him back to life.

Slowly, almost gently, he began to move in and out of my vagina. He was going to use me more. He wasn’t finished with me. I was a shoplifting criminal, a felon and I was paying for it.  He had me pinned down firmly as he slowly, moved with long forceful strokes.

My thoughts kept going around and around as he moved in and out. For some reason crude terms for what he was doing kept rotating in my mind. He was fucking me... screwing me...having intercourse with me...or...this had become so different than earlier. Now he had become so gentle. Is this what they might call “making love” to me? I did not like that last thought.

No need to think about what to call it. Gently or not, I was being fucked.

No need to think about what to call me. I was a tramp, a slut. I was all those things I had abhorred all my life. I was worse than any those trailer court wenches with the black kids. It didn’t matter how I described it. My valued virginity was gone. What a low life!

I became aware that the edge of the desk still hurt the front of my legs. I tried to move back a bit. He felt me struggling and lifted me slightly to move us back together. The sharp edge of the desk no longer cut into the front of my legs, but in the process he had pulled me back even more firmly against him and buried to the limit in my body.

He released my neck and slid both his hands up under my top, under my thin bra, and under my bare breasts holding me up against him.

Kyle had tried to touch my breasts for months and I had refused, and now this big black guy just casually massaged them as he slowly fucked me.

His hands began working my tender breasts, moving in rhythm with his lower body. He was making my entire body respond to his desires. 

He brought my breasts up higher and higher from the desk and became more and more aggressive. He worked faster and faster...harder and harder.

Finally, he snorted loudly, drove into me to the limit, and time after time I could feel his surges deep inside my body as he gripped my breasts firmly. He was finishing, stroke after stroke, time after time. It seemed like forever as he pumped.

My lower body began convulsing with uncontrollable spasms responding to repeated driving deposits into my vagina.

After twenty surges he finally slowed and his weight came down on me as he rested again. Most of his body weight along with all of mine now rested directly on my breasts which were still encased in his huge hands. I could feel a new pulsating sensation deep inside that I had not felt before... much more strongly and more deeply.

Then he came to a complete stop with a good bit of his weight directly on top of me. I responded much differently than before. Maybe it was exhaustion, but this time I made no effort to get away. I lay quietly, except for little continued adjustments deep inside. No pain now, just a stunned, shocked feeling. It was like I had resigned to the facts. No embarrassment, no panicky feeling, just resignation. I had been thoroughly screwed. My so valued virginity was gone but so were all thoughts of his calling the police.

What would the amigos say if they knew? What would my parents think? What about Kyle?

The world seemed to go into slow motion. After sometime his weight became less and it felt like he was releasing me and slowly beginning to withdraw.

It was over. He lifted further and I began to move back a little to get out from under him, but as I moved so did he. He came back down over me. His arms returned around me. His hands found my breasts again and he lifted me up to him once more.

He used my breasts gently now to bring me back toward him as he returned deep inside. Once again fully inside me he returned to stroking, until he again began surging into me. With each surge he gripped my breasts, drove deeper, and deposited more.

An unexplainable feeling started to over me. It was uncontrollable. My back was arching up to meet him. I could not stop the movement.

At the same time, my internal spasms changed. I was responding to strange demands to tighten around him.

A fear overcame me. Things seemed so gentle, almost loving now...this was the last thing I wanted...the last thing I wanted to convey to him, but over and over, he deposited and I responded in a manner I so wanted to deny. It was an overwhelming internal response that scared me silly. There was no question he knew things had changed for me.

Finally, he let his weight down onto my back completely and his hands firmed up against my breast into an embrace. He stayed that way holding me tightly for a long time, and then, just like that. It was over. His hands released my breasts. I felt his weight come off me completely and he withdrew.

He backed away. I heard his zipper. I lay exhausted on my tummy. How could I explain the strange empty feeling? Was I crazy?

Finally, I heard him moving behind me. Slowly I stood up facing the desk, with my back toward him and straightened my skirt and top.

I turned around looking down at the floor. I saw my panties kicked over by the trash can. Without looking at him I moved to get them,

“Leave them there.”

He ordered.

He turned to the table without looking at me and handed me the Play Station Four.

“Well your free, chick. Take this back where you got it and then get the hell out of the store.”

He ordered gruffly.

I could tell he was thoroughly angry and disgusted. He just rudely shoved the thing toward me without even looking in my direction.

I took it and started to move, but my legs refused to work. I went back against desk for a moment to collect myself. My body was jumping all over inside.

Finally, I walked gingerly toward the door. Each step was a labor. I was so sore, so wet.

He unlocked the door and held it open as I struggled out and turned back into the store to return what I had shoplifted.

I heard him firmly close and lock the security office door behind me.