Part 1- The Armoire
Marisa lay on her belly, her face buried in a pillow. "Ooohhh," she moaned softly as she slowly kneaded her crotch with her right hand and stimulated her nipples with her left. Humping her hand gently with her hips, Marisa concentrated on her horniness. She craved the orgasm that she had been slowly working up to for an hour. Her right hand busied itself between her legs with practiced dexterity, sending little shivers of pleasure through her body.
"I love masturbating", she thought to herself.
Then, as she rolled over on her back, her eyes happened to fall on the digital clock next to her bed. It read 8:11 P.M.
"Oh crap, I'm going to be late!", she said out loud, leaping out of bed. For the next fifteen minutes she hurriedly got ready, brushing her dark hair, putting on a little makeup and dressing herself in her maid's uniform. It was the classic outfit for maids in Miami, as it was in wealthy areas across the country- black, with a white collar and cuffs. Marisa always thought she looked cute, even sexy, in the dress, and smiled a little at herself in the mirror.
Satisfied that she was put together, she grabbed the backpack she had prepared that afternoon and rushed out of her apartment. Her SUV rocketed out of the parking lot, through the residential streets and out onto a main thoroughfare. She was headed across town to work in one of the most upscale neighborhoods in Miami and she was determined that she would not be late.
Thirty minutes later, after fighting through early Saturday evening traffic, Marisa cruised slowly through streets lined with mansions in pastel colors of blue, pink or yellow, and white ultra-modernist style houses popular with the art-conscious rich. When she came to a small, stylish commercial block, she turned into the parking lot of a day spa and drove behind the building. She preferred to park here rather than on the street because the area was heavily patrolled by police and she did not want to risk getting a parking ticket.
She emerged from behind the building and walked along the street, carrying her backpack, admiring the beautiful houses and enjoying the warm humid night air, perfumed by the tropical flowers blooming in the gardens. Anyone seeing her would see a maid going home after a long day of work in a wealthy home.
But Marisa was not a maid- she was a cat burglar. And she was not here tonight to serve the wealthy- she was here to steal from them .
At twenty five years old, Marisa had achieved a comfortable, and at times, lavish lifestyle through her chosen occupation. She did not steal to feed a drug habit- she stole because she enjoyed the thrill and the challeng., And, of course, the fast money and lots of leisure time. One successful job a month was plenty; although she would do more if the opportunities arose. She was appalled by the idea of working fifty hours or more a week as a drone in an office job, having to take orders from idiot managers who were her intellectual inferiors. Marisa was highly intelligent, brilliant really, but she had dropped out of an expensive private college when she had discovered what she now thought of jokingly as her "calling."
Since then she had been a wanderer, traveling around the country from city to city- Houston, Atlanta, New York, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Orlando, staying a few months in each place, long enough to scout out targets, prepare and execute the jobs and then move on. Since arriving in Miami eight weeks before, she had used her normal procedure of cultivating ties with people who performed services for the wealthy- small contractors and domestic servants, and this had finally paid off when an acquaintance told her that a friend who worked as a maid for the wife of a real estate developer desperately needed money to send to her family in South America. Convincing the friend was not difficult-Marisa promised her twenty percent of the profit from the job, and besides, the maid hated the wife, describing her as a "puta" and a "beetch."
Marisa saw the house ahead- a classic Miami style Mcmansion straight out of the classic cheesy film "Scarface" with pink walls, white trim and large white pillars framing the grand entrance. Her heart began to race; the moments before making entry were always the most nerve-wracking. She looked around and saw no one: she hoped that if anyone was observing her they would take no special notice of a woman in a maid's dress. She had even taken the extra precaution of dying her brown hair black, since nearly all the maids in Miami were Latinas.
Well-designed lighting illuminated the driveway and the landscaping of the front lawn. Ducking into the shadow cast by a palm tree, Marisa quickly went along the side of the house and into the backyard , where she melted into a bush while she checked to make sure no one was in the backyard or looking from the windows of adjacent houses. She saw the shed described by the maid, who had told her there was a twenty foot aluminum ladder behind the shed and that this ladder would reach the small window of an upstairs utility closet that for some reason had not been wired into the security system. The maid would make sure the window was left unlatched.
Marisa crossed the lawn, found the ladder, and carried it across to the rear wall of the house. She paused a moment to make sure she had identified the correct window, then wrestled the ladder upward to the window. Marisa was a feminine young woman but she was careful to keep herself in excellent shape-, she knew that her success, her freedom and maybe even her life depended on it. Climbing swiftly to the window, she was relieved to find in unlatched. Without hesitation, she struggled over the sill and dropped hands first into a dark room.
For several moments she remained motionless listening for the sounds of anyone in the house. The maid had told her that the husband was out of town on business and not expected back until the following week. The wife had been making preparations that afternoon to go nightclubbing in South Beach, which the maid said usually resulted in wild all-night partying especially when the husband was away.
Still, Marisa knew her informants were sometimes wrong and she planned to retreat quickly if she heard any suspicious sounds. But she heard only the sound of her own ragged breathing, caused by the adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream. Her hands were trembling too, but she was not deterred; she was accustomed to the symptoms of an adrenaline rush, knew that this made her faster, stronger and braver, and, as a thrillseeker, she quite enjoyed the sensations. At the same time, she became aware of the feelings of sexual arousal. Her nipples were taut against her bra and her lower belly was warm and tingling. She had realized early on in her career that the erotic stimulation she experienced during her crimes was a prime motivator to continue them. In the weeks between burglaries, she frequently masturbated to shattering orgasms while replaying the excitement and scenario of the crimes in her mind. She tweaked each of her nipples in turn, sending small jolts of pleasure down her body.
Finally, hearing nothing , she felt her way to the door, opened it and looked out. The house had a splendid interior- she could look down and see a large marble entrance atrium with numerous paintings and sculptures on display. As the maid had instructed, she turned left and walked along the hall to the fourth door; opening it, she found herself in the master bedroom. She knew most people kept their valuables here, at least the ones that were not kept in a safe.
The wife's dresser was the first place to look; she opened the jewelry box and –jackpot!- it was filled with rings, necklaces, earrings, bracelets,- gold, platinum, diamonds, emeralds, pearls, rubies; she scooped them up and into her backpack. She looked through the drawers and found more jewelry and some cash. She went to the man's dresser and, in the box on top, found gold cufflinks, thick gold necklaces, and two very expensive watches Moving quickly around the room, she opened every drawer and closet. A nice digital camera went into the backpack. She noticed a picture of the couple on the wall; the husband was a white-haired red-faced man probably around sixty, the wife looked to be in her late twenties, a blonde with a glamour model look.
Against the wall, facing the king-sized bed was a very large free standing armoire. She opened the two large front doors and inside found nothing but some of the wife clothes. Then she pulled out a large drawer at the bottom of the armoire and burst out laughing. It was full of sex toys. Vibrators of all sizes and types- rabbits, wands, wearable, minis, curved straight, and dildos- smooth, bumpy, rubber, glass, small, and large. Marisa picked up one hulking purple dildo with ridges and bumps and remembering "Scarface" again, laughingly repeated the famous line, "Say hello to my little friend!" Then there were the butt plugs, anal beads, ben wa balls, nipple clamps and on and on. Marisa often found sex toys during her burglaries, but this was the largest collection by far. She guessed the wife must be a real nympho and the older husband was unable to keep up with her demands.
Staring at the sex toys and satisfied that she had a good haul of loot, Marisa mind came back to her horniness. Her left caressed her breasts, her right hand began to slowly rub her crotch through fabric of the dress. Tingles had been shooting through her pussy since she entered the house; now the need became urgent. She hiked up her skirt and sat on the edge of the bed. Her heart was still thumping from the thrill of the crime and the arousal was overwhelming. Many times during her burglaries, she had brought herself to explosive climaxes on the beds of her victims, and, once again, she could not resist the temptation.
Her fingers jerked the panties aside and began rapidly stroking up and down her labia. Although the juices were already flowing, Marisa brought her fingers to her mouth and licked them lasciviously until they were coated with saliva. She liked lots of lubrication-"The wetter the better" she thought to herself as her hand returned to her pussy and picked up the rhythm again. "Ummmm" she moaned as her hips swayed in time with her strokes.
Marisa had an unusually large clitoris that was prominent even when she was not aroused. When she became excited, it rose from its hood and protruded well above her labia. Now, the clit was engorged and as hard as a pink steel rod. It was a full inch and a half long (she had measured it) and fat, with a knobby end. Marisa adored her big clit. She was proud of it and liked to show it off to her lovers. As she rubbed around the base, she promised herself that she would dress it up with a clit piercing as a reward for the success of this job.
"Oh fuck" she cried as she ran a finger up the length of the clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her so intense that they verged on being painful. She fell back on the bed and pulled her panties down to her knees; the index and middle fingers of her right hand rubbed along the sides of her clit while the middle finger of her left thrust into her opening. She increased the speed until she was working her pussy furiously, at times lightly slapping or pinching her clit, prompting her to gasp at the fierce sensations. "Yeah baby, that's it" she panted as she felt the level of her arousal begin to heighten toward orgasm.
And then she heard voices downstairs. Marisa instantly jumped up, almost tripping over the panties around her ankles. She pulled her panties up and her dress down, and grabbed the backpack.. Quietly but quickly, she closed the drawers she had searched, and after listening for a moment, cracked open the bedroom door. She could hear male and female voices, laughing and talking indistinctly; they seemed to come from the atrium and large living room area. Marisa figured she could scoot along the hall in a low crouch, reach the utility room without being seen, and escape. She was ten feet down the hallway when she heard footsteps and voices coming up the winding stairs. Realizing she would be caught in the hallway, she retreated to the bedroom in a near panic. Her only chance now was to hide and hope for a lucky break.
The voices were now upstairs. On a hunch, Marisa climbed into the armoire and shut the doors. It was spacious and tall enough for her to stand upright. She moved back behind the clothing, though she doubted this would hide her if someone opened the doors. The bedroom door opened just as she froze motionless.
"You guys are hilarious, said a woman's voice, " you talk a good game, but can you live up to it?" Her voice was a little tipsy.
"Hell, yeah," said a male voice
"Damn right honey," said a different male voice.
Two men, and neither of them sounded like he was old enough to be husband. Marisa heard ice clinking in glasses.
