Jennifer wasn't too impressed by her choices at the Teen Queen Shoppe. Everything seemed either way too boring or way too expensive for a broke but radiant blonde who had barely turned 18.
As she roamed the aisles, Jen was not aware the manager, Mr. Peterson, a muscular man of 50, was watching her on the security cameras. He loved girls like Jen: So smooth, so ripe, so firm, and, in Jennifer's case, so vulnerable.
She had found a couple of tops in the discount bin that seemed promising and asked Peterson if she could use the changing room. He agreed, even though it was 6:05. He had closed the store five minutes earlier, and the doors were now locked from the inside.
When Jen went into the changing room, she was surprised to find, draped across the bench, an exquisite white bra and panty set. Upon further examination she discovered that not only were these garments made of the finest French silk, they were exactly her style and exactly her size. They were not exactly her price. She could never afford $200 underwear.
But she was tempted to try them on. Slipping out of her blouse and jeans, then removing her own bra and panties, she stood naked before the mirror. She held the silk bra before her sweet upturned breasts for a moment, then shrugged and slid the lacy cups over her pointy nipples. Those buds were still teasingly visible through the sheer fabric after she hooked the clasps.
Seconds later, she has pulled the bikini panties over her long, slim hips and now felt them cradling the cheeks of her pouty little bottom. The deeply scooped front barely covered the little blonde tuft between her legs.
She admired her reflection for a bit, knowing her boyfriend would go wild if he saw her like this. Then Jennifer got a very naughty idea. No one had seen her carry the bra and panties into the changing room, she reasoned. Would anyone know they were missing?
Jen put her clothes back on over the silk ensemble and stuffed her own underwear into her purse. She grabbed the unworn tops and headed for the door.
"I don't think these are right for me," she told Mr. Peterson as she laid the tops before him on the counter. "Thanks anyway."
He followed her to the door, prepared to unlock it. But as she approached it, an alarm sounded.
Jennifer blushed but hoped the manager didn't notice. He turned off the alarm and took her little chin in his big hand, turning her head toward his and staring intensely into her eyes.
"Well now," he said. "You aren't taking anything you didn't pay for are you, young lady?"
Jen shook her head, but she had begun to tremble.
"May I see your purse?" he asked.
She handed it to him. She instantly realized her mistake, but it was too late. He opened the purse and smiled as he found her cotton panties and bra. Suddenly and forcefully, he grabbed her by the wrist.
"Come with me," he said.
Peterson led her into a back room that was empty except for a telephone, an oak table, a couple of chairs and an empty rack for dresses. Peterson sat down.
"Open your blouse, young lady," he said.
Jen flipped her hair back in defiance.
Peterson reached for the phone.
"Hello, police department?" he said.
Jennifer began to fumble with the buttons of her blouse. Peterson hung up the phone.
"Now, take off that blouse so I can see your bra."
With shaking fingers, Jen slipped the blouse off her shoulders. Peterson walked up to her and ran his fingers over one cup of her bra, making Jennifer flinch.
"You stole this from us, young lady," he said. "Give it back."
Jen looked terrified. "Please…" she managed as tears welled in her eyes.
