She carefully used the plastic oblong to squeeze the spring lock open, and then used the lock-release gun to disable the deadbolt. She was in. She entered the long narrow hallway swiftly yet stealthily, with no noise, no movement of air even. She was getting better and better. Ever so quietly and gently she returned the door to its closed position. She turned and leant her back against the door, allowed her eyes to adjust to the gloom, accommodation, that was the name of the process she'd read. She read a lot, so as to know everything connected with her hobby, however obscure. She waited, listening to the house moving and settling. Her breath came in light pants now, the excitement was building.
She was dressed head to foot in black, with a black ski mask over her face, she didn't really like its constriction and the obscuring of her vision, but it was all part of the costume. Few burglars however would attack their targets wearing her choice of undergarments. She'd thought of sports bra and shorts, but they were so unsexy. Her choice was a lacy black silk high cut thong that left no panty line on her black combat pants. The bra was of the same material, designed to push her pert small breasts up and out. She felt the waves of emotion building now; she would have to get on while her legs still worked. This was real excitement. That thrill of illegality. That chance of detection and even capture. But she'd watched this house carefully; she knew no-one was home. The guy who lived here was a rugged sort, not handsome, not ugly. Attractive in a primeval animal way. She chose his house for that reason, his looks alone. She had no idea if he had anything of worth. She just wanted to see inside his house, how he lived, how he spent his private hours. He seemed to be away much of the time, probably away on business, or maybe he worked odd hours. Anyway time to seek a few more thrills. It wasn't enough just to enter the house, she had to explore. The thought of going into each room and learning about this guy had her wet already. She fought the constriction in her throat, the tightness in her chest, the pounding of her heart against the flimsy material of the bra.
She moved along the corridor, satisfied that the house was still, that no other living thing stirred. She pushed open a door on her left. Carefully she took out her pencil torch and cupped the beam. The curtains in the room were partially closed, so she would have to take extra special care to not be spotted from outside. Though at three in the morning passers-by were unlikely. The tension within her mounted, taking more chances always did that, she left the curtains ajar. She slowly quartered the room, nice widescreen television, DVD, Video, Satellite box, surround sound system. He had the lot obviously loved movies and music, with this level of equipment he must spend a lot of time watching and listening, no point in spending this amount of money otherwise, unless he was a poser. But she'd seen no-one else come to the house while she'd watched.
So yes, a lonely guy who spent time alone with his movies and music. The rest of the room had good quality furniture that was sparsely arranged. What caught her eye was the large leather recliner. Bet that would be good to stretch out on she mused, feeling her stomach doing flips. Yeah stretched out there beside a man, there was enough room for two, and enough room to do, whatever. God she was hot now, have to move on. So she forced herself to move, back out into the hallway turned right a little way to a door on the left, dining room. Large table, four chairs and two carvers at each end. Well that was a surprise, did he entertain? It was an entertaining kind of room. There were a number of good quality art prints on the walls, Monet, Dali, and Lautrec. Very eclectic mix, anywhere else they wouldn't go together but here they seemed to work. And OH! Over the head of the table a large Hieronymus Bosch. It should have looked really out of place.
But it didn't, even with its fantastical horrific depictions. Bosch was one of her favourites too, this had been given pride of place, and all the guests at the table would be able to see it as they ate. But did this guy ever have guests, and if he did those of gentler disposition may not return after having a meal in the shadow of that picture. She moved on, down the hall to the kitchen. This guy really liked to cook. Four burner double oven cooker with a griddle plate. Copper pans hanging from an airer, top class knives in two blocks, two woks and two bamboo steamers. Belfast sink, marble worktops, yes they were marble, she felt the cool smooth stone as she trailed her now unclad fingers along the surface. Must remember to wipe that down. She rarely took anything from her targets, it was the invasion of their privacy that excited her. Sometimes a small trinket would be pocketed, if she'd had a particularly good time.
Now up the stairs. This was when the excitement really built, not just because of the promise of the bedroom above, but because she was further from her escape route, the chance of being caught heightened her emotion. First room at the top of the stairs, the bathroom, functional bath, shower above, wash hand basin, toilet. Nothing out of the ordinary. Men's things, nothing feminine. Out of there quickly into the next room. Small, very, very dark. Thick heavy blinds on the single window. She panned the light around, oh wow, what a room. Ceiling to floor shelves along two adjacent walls, filled with book upon book. She skimmed over the titles, seeing a pattern, fiction on one wall non-fiction on the other. This closer to the workstation. Huge monitor for the IBM clone PC, Canon printer, scanner graphics tablet, excellent speaker, fax machine, joystick, games pad, huge digital camera. Shelves above the workstation holding hundreds of cd-roms, games, utilities, allsorts. This guy just had it all. File cabinet too, wonder if it's open. She gently drew the top drawer towards her, it slid easily and quietly open. She checked one of the files inside. Stories, they seemed to be stories. She scanned a few of these titles. One grabbed her attention, "Caught in the Act." She read a few lines, then with a gasp a few more. The story seemed to be about a guy catching a female burglar and how he "punished" her intrusion to his home. Wow she was soaking wet now and just a little worried. He wasn't here, she was definitely, one hundred percent sure. But deep inside she kind of wished she wasn't. Time to move on, next room seemed to be a spare bedroom. Nothing personal about it, just a bed, bedside table and a couple of chairs. She moved across the landing to what she was sure was his bedroom. The only room left to explore. Yes this was his room. King size bed, full length mirrored wardrobe along one wall. TV on a wall bracket, with another DVD and VHS. He liked his comforts. She moved slowly around the room, taking it all in. Out of the corner of her eye something seemed to move, startled her. One of the wardrobe doors was open a crack. Had it been open like that when she came in, she couldn't recall. She usually had a rummage through her targets clothes but now she was wary. For the first time she felt really scared, but her body and her libido were now running riot. She felt her knees go weak. She had to go to the wardrobe, just to be sure, just to fulfil her purpose. She went to the opposite end, away from the open door. She slid the door gently along and peeked inside. There were shelves behind the door, holding a collection of polo shirts, boxer shorts and a box on the bottom shelf with socks in pairs, all very neat very organised, a bit anal?
She pushed that door back into place and went on to the middle of the three doors. Suits, coats, dress shirts, trousers, jeans all on hangers. Hm, yes very neat and organised, unlike her wardrobe, which consisted mainly of the floor and chair. She glanced nervously to her right. Towards the slightly open wardrobe door and to her escape. Should she just flee now? This place was beginning to seriously spook her. If he was there, hiding. Would he be violent. Would he immediately overpower her then call the cops. She was paralysed. Then she felt herself slowly move to the sliding door. It was like a dream. She felt outside her body as she stood in front of it, then slowly ever so slowly began to slide it to her left.
"You're caught you bastard!"
She stood transfixed, unable to move, to talk, to think. All she could see in the glow of the torch was the rugged features, yes very rugged. He was grinning straight at her. The grin unnerved her further and she turned to run. But he caught her by the shoulder and the ski mask. His momentum behind her caused her to stumble and they fell together, he on her back and the ski mask sliding off her head as he tugged. Her mid length hair tumbled down and she heard him gasp as they landed. He sat astride her back, moving quickly, far quicker than she had expected. She was pinned unable to escape, unable to struggle even, though that was as much to do with the shock of capture. She tried to take it all in, tried to make sense of the situation, had he seemed angry, frightened, no he'd almost whispered when he appeared, his tone almost mocking.
He sat astride her back, still not sure if it was a her. The girl he'd spotted watching his house may have been doing it for a male colleague. But he knew his house was being cased. He hoped it was a girl, a woman. His fantasy/story would really come to life if that was the case. He could feel his libido stirring. Better turn the burglar over and make sure. The body felt slight beneath him, completely under his control. But he was wary. He didn't relish the idea of his captive putting up a struggle. He wasn't overly enamoured of pain and his knees already ached where he'd crashed into the floor.
He placed his hands roughly on the shoulders.
"Come on you turn over"
He wrenched her around, never lessening the grip of his thighs to the sides of her body. Then they were looking at each other. The torch had fallen facing them and there was just enough light for them to vaguely see each other.
"So you are female then" he whispered. "That's good."
She finally found her voice.
"Why's that good?"
"Because I like being right and I reckon I'm not going to get killed this morning."
He slowly eased from on top of her.
"Don't try to run."
He stood up then and moved to the bedroom door and switched on the overhead light. She remained lying on the floor, only moving her head slightly to keep him in sight.
