She ran her fingers over the slightly sticky plastic packaging, her eyes barely reading the description of the product that hung in front of her. At this point, she didn't really care whether the vibrator had ten speed settings and an antimicrobial material. At this point, all she could really think about was how to get it out of the store without being seen.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
It had progressed from stealing a tube of lipstick to some various other little items. Each time she'd made it out with something, she'd sit in her car, feeling more alive than she ever had, and more turned on than she could handle. And then the idea had hit her -- steal something she could actually get off with, and to make it better, she'd promised herself she'd not even wait to get home to try out her new, stolen toy.
The proprietor, who was hidden behind dark safety glass with his register and expensive merchandise, was talking to another customer. Sitting nearly two feet taller than the rest of the store, the floor of the register area was tall enough that the employee of this dilapidated sex shop could see out across the five or so aisles of similarly sticky and dusty merchandise. She would have gone to the sex shop across town, where there was loud techno music and clean, plentiful vibes to choose from, but they also had something she didn't want -- cameras and more employees.
"Nah," she heard the proprietor say, slamming his hand down on the counter in what she guessed was aggravation. It startled her, and the woman found herself turning to see what was the matter, only to see one of the proprietor's huge, thick-fingered hands come out from under the safety glass to pass a wad of bills back to the customer. "We're fresh out."
She had already turned back to the vibrator on the hook in front of her, had it in hand, and then ensconced under the front of her shirt before the two men at the counter had noticed she was looking at them. Her heart raced under her thin t-shirt. She could see it in the way her breasts bounced slightly underneath the fabric with each heartbeat.
This is good enough, just get the fuck out of here!
she instructed herself, schooling her features into something that hopefully looked calmer than she felt. Feeling slightly giddy with her victory, she told herself,
I'll have to stop somewhere to get batteries!
With the employee hopefully still distracted, she made her way to the front door, double-checking as she walked closer that there was no alarm system there to trip for when she tried to take her stolen vibrator through.
"But come back at close, and we'll have another one, I'd bet," the proprietor said, speaking loudly, and with a particular laugh in his voice that caused her courage to waver. She had no idea what they were talking about, nor did she really care, but the customer, the only one other than her in the tiny store, had laughed back in the same creepy fashion, and was already walking her way.
Panicked that they had seen the vibrator package hidden haphazardly under her shirt, she made a sudden, dramatic turn towards a displayer in the aisle by the door, as if something had just caught her eye on the way out. Without missing a step, the male customer walked out of the store, the bell attached to the door handle banging loudly against frame.
Much to her dismay, she was now the proprietor's sole customer.
With more interest than she would normally have given a rack of novelty condoms, the woman spent a few minutes trying to gather her flagging courage.
All I have to do is walk out the door,
she told herself. The man watching the register wouldn't be able to get out of his enclosed area before she had made it down the street and around a corner, if she took off running.
Just walk out the door like nothing is going on.
