She felt a large hand on her arm, pulling her away from the cosmetics counter. A baritone voice from behind said, "Come with me, miss." The security guard's massive, well-defined biceps bulged as he pulled her away from the group of ladies gathered around the counter. Her body jerked like a rag doll, forcing her to drop the bottle of perfume she was holding. The sound of glass perfume bottle shattering pierced the air as she was whisked away. The women gathered at the counter looked on, wide-eyed in disbelief at the site of the frightened woman being led away.
"Call Tom and tell him the price of that," the security guard commanded over his shoulder to the sales girl working the cosmetics counter.
"Gladly," the girl at the counter called out to him with a catty grin. Then to the customers gathered around the counter: "It's ok, he's just taking out the trash." The other women responded with gasps and murmurs as they watched the young woman being forcibly led away.
The image of the two together couldn't have been more of a contrast. His tall, muscular physique overpowered her short, petite frame. Her alabaster skin appeared even paler in his dark black hands. His demeanor was that of confidence compared to hers of shear panic.
A feeling of nausea suddenly swept over her as the security guard escorted her toward the back of the store. "What's going on? Where are you taking me?" she pleaded. She felt overcome by a cold sweat as her eyes darted around the store, desperately searching for an escape.
"We just want to have a quick talk with you," he replied, tightening his grip on her upper arm.
"W...w...what about?" she asked nervously, slowing her pace. The security guard compensated by lifting her arm, dragging her slow feet toward the back of the store.
"We'd like to talk to you about what's in your purse," he said pushing open the double doors to the back area of the store. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness of the back room, which intensified her feeling of helplessness as she stumbled over boxes of inventory stacked near the door.
"Please! Let me go! Please, you're hurting me!" she pleaded as his pace hastened. She struggled to pull free of his grip, but his massive hand completely enveloped her arm.
Her pleas attracted attention from store employees in the back room as the couple approached a door labeled "SECURITY". A group of them gathered to gawk as the security guard pushed her into security office, their faces expressing contempt. She heard them whispering as the two entered: "...shoplifter..."
As she entered the room her eyes were shocked by the bright light of the security office, forcing her to squint. The room hummed with virtual activity from plasma monitors mounted along the walls, feeding images of activity from around the store.
As her eyes adjusted to the lights she surveyed the room around her. At the far end of the room a middle-aged white man sat at a desk manipulating switches and dials. He had the look of a retired cop; clean cut with cold grey eyes to match his full, gray hair. On either side of him stood younger, athletic men, in their mid-twenties leaning forward on the desk. The guard on the left had a shaved head and goatee, the guard on the right had thick, black medium length hair and a very clean cut look. Both looked like eager frat boys, watching the large center screen with anticipation.
"Zoom in, zoom in, dude," the security guard on the left said.
"Chill out! Tom knows what he's doing," said the guard on the right.
Focusing her gaze on the main monitor in front of the men, she could see the image of a young, half naked blonde woman getting undressed in what appeared to be a changing room somewhere in the store. Already topless, she was unbuttoning her tight jeans and started to wriggle her hips to pull them down.
"Bam, there you go! No panties! You owe me five bucks, dude!" shouted the guard to the right.
As the bald guard pulled out his wallet, the sounds of the black security guard and his captive caught their attention. All three guards shifted their focus from the young woman on the monitor as the black guard led her to a table in the center of the room. With a quick motion, he handcuffed her left hand to a bar mounted on the edge of the table.
"Did ya get it, Hank?" asked the older guard.
"Not yet," the black guard replied as he pulled her purse from her right shoulder. With her free hand she tried to hold on to it, but with a firm yank it was gone.
"You have no right to..." she protested as Hank dumped the contents of her purse on the table in front of her. Finishing her complaint seemed pointless as he separated packaged cosmetics, perfume and a watch from the jumbled mess.
The guard at the control desk stood and walked toward the woman. "I'd ask ya if you have a receipt for that, but you'd probably give me some BS story. 'Sides, we have you on video." He looked at her face without making eye contact, as if looking through her.
As he left the control desk, the bald guard on the left quickly took his seat and resumed manipulating the controls of the camera to follow the nubile blonde in the changing room.
"P...p...please. I won't come back. Just let me go?" she begged softly, looking from one guard to another.
"Sit down," the black security guard said, pushing her shoulders down until she fell helplessly into the chair behind her.
"Relax, sweetheart," the older man said, picking up her wallet as he sat on the table in front of her. "Less than fifteen hundred is a misdemeanor. You'll probably only get probation if this is your first time gettin' busted." Opening her wallet, he withdrew her driver's license. "Kimberly James," he read. "You from out of state?" he asked, for the first time actually looking into her eyes.
"No, I go to school here. That's my parent's address. Please! I can't get arrested," she cried. "I'll lose my scholarship. My parents will kill me." She looked at him pleadingly, tears welling up in her eyes.
"You know what 'sorry' means?" the black guard asked. "It means 'too fuckin' late. Now shut the fuck up!" he shouted with an aggravated voice.
Wide-eyed, her stare went from the black guard to the older white guard. "Please! I'll do anything. Just please don't call the cops!" she sobbed.
"Look at that ass..." the bald guard at the console said. Looking up at the monitor, she could see the blonde in the changing room bend over to put on a pair of shorts. Her firm ass spread as she bent forward and the camera zoomed in to her pussy.
Noticing her furtive look at the monitor, the older guard gave her a sly grin. "It's up to you, sweetheart. How bad you want to avoid the cops?"
Meeting his eyes, she instantly realized what he was implying. Growing up in a conservative, Mormon household she'd been the stereotypical rebellious youth, exploring and even exploiting her sexuality since before college. At college she'd honed her ability, learning to manipulate men using their desires against them.
With her free hand, she nervously began unbuttoning her blouse from the top town, revealing her pert, alabaster cleavage. The shirt fell open, revealing a black lace bra, her breasts heaving with her sobs.
Just give them a show,
