BLOOD DIAMONDS Chapters 11 - 15 free porn video

Chapter 11

Several Years Ago... East Of The Mississippi...

I got the first job I applied for. A locksmith ran a small shop near campus and he needed someone to watch the store while he was out doing lock smithy things. I handled walk-in sales and ordering stock. I'd never get rich but it wasn't a very hard job either. I liked it and I needed the work while I got settled and planned my next move.

Money wasn't really tight yet, but I'd underestimated how much it took to basically set up an entire new life. Security deposit, first and last month's rent plus everything from silverware to bed sheets. Lucky for me there was a bus stop on the corner that I could take to the mall and back because I had lots to buy.

Even though dress was casual at the shop I still had to buy more than the two changes of clothes I'd brought with me. I learned how to buy items that I could mix and match with other items real quick. And I wanted clothes that didn't make me look like a little girl. I wanted clothes that made me look like a youthful young woman. A little hard to pull off if you're maybe 14 or maybe 15. Maybe 13. I mostly settled on button down shirts of various colors and skirts that were neither something an old woman would wear, but weren't scandalously short either.

The owner of the store, I'll just call him Mr. Mack from now on, seemed to be a decent guy. I caught him eyeing my butt the times I wore shorts, but that was okay. He never tried to touch and I bet his wife was pleased if he went home a bit horny.

Like I said, this was a pretty easy job. We didn't have very many walk-in customers so keeping the stock filled was a breeze. Cleaning took no time and Mr. Mack made most of his money being out doing lock smithy things. Some college student drops out and takes off without turning in his key? Call Mr. Mack to change the lock, kind'a things. So I was even all alone lot's of times and closed up the shop in the evenings. That left me plenty of time to read.

Mr. Mack had books that I'd never seen before. Books about locks. All the different types and how they worked. We even had a display out front of a bunch'a door locks and on a whim I thought I'd try to open them without a key. My very first lockpicks were made using the key duplicator I duplicated keys with for people who wanted keys duplicated. Sorry, wanted to see how many times I could get 'duplicated' into here.

Turned out I was a natural. I was soon able to open every lock in the display stand as easily as turning a real key. With that challenge gone I ordered other types of locks for the display stand for me to practice on. Knowing how to do this would have been great when I'd been breaking into houses.

I was washing my laundry one Friday evening after work when I had a thought. My money stash wasn't going down, but it wasn't going up either. I was in front of the money changer machine, feeding bills in and getting quarters in exchange when I looked at the lock and thought, I can open that. It needed a round key but I knew where Mr. Mack kept his master keys. Then I thought of how many of my dollar bills disappeared into this machine every weekend and wondered how many other people fed this machine.

While my clothes were washing I watched person after person feeding that machine. And not just dollar bills disappeared into the machine. It took 5s and 10s, also. Friday was a busy day with the college students in town for the start of Fall semester and this was a large place. It had a very large machine that held a lot of quarters.

I knew the girl working the place wasn't the owner. I remembered seeing the owner on Saturday mornings coming by to take the money out and to put more quarters inside. I also remembered never seeing him on Sundays. I guess he went to church or something on Sundays. That meant there was a good chance those bills just kept piling up in there from Saturday morning until closing time Sunday night.

I looked at the lock on the front door and thought, I can open that, too. I looked for alarms on the door. None. I looked for cameras and motion/infrared detectors. None. I could feel a plan forming. I could go to Goodwill and buy a long raincoat that would cover me from chin to feet. My planning all seemed to take place sub-consciously as I folded my clothes. A baseball cap pulled low. My hair up under a stretchy cap. A cheap wig that I could cut until it was a length a guy would wear. If cameras in other stores recorded me I'd look like a guy on those low quality recordings.

A Friday evening when I was alone to close up the shop... An early show to work on Monday morning to return the master keys... Do I really have to say that very, very early Monday morning I took all the bills and quarters from that machine? It was heavy lugging all those quarters in my backpack.

On my sofa/bed I counted my haul and I'd made almost fifteen hundred dollars. That was thirteen hours of fucking and three blowjobs for me not so long ago and I'd done the whole job in less than half an hour without all the messy clean ups afterwards. The Invisible Thief was back in business, just in a different city.

It wasn't all work and theft for me. Friday night was also party night and I could always find a party on the streets where the college students had those Greek letters on their buildings. I just followed the loud music. I wasn't invited, but do ya think horny college guys are gonna throw a semi-pretty girl out of their party? Yeah, like that would ever happen...

I'd go in, get a beer and check the scene out. If anyone asked who'd invited me I just said, 'Doug did'. Everyone knew a Doug. I wasn't trying to score a guy though. I was hunting what the guys were on the prowl for... Pussy. I'd had enough dick.

The lesbian porn scenes I'd watched had always made me wet. The only time before now that I'd been with a girl was Auntie Principal and that old bitch wasn't my type at all. All that time I'd been whoring and making movies and I'd never been with another girl. I wanted to find out if I really could bat right and left handed. If ya know what I mean...

My way of picking up girls was direct, simple and quick. I'd walk up to a pretty girl and kiss her. If she didn't kiss back I'd tell her Doug had dared me to do it and move on. If she kissed back I'd give her boob a little hand cuddle while the Greek Geeks went crazy around us. If she still didn't pull away, my little apartment was only a short walk from the Greek letters. Some girls wouldn't accept my invitation. Some girls would get cold feet and back out during the walk, but I was still batting in the low .200s.

The first girl that came to my apartment was a straight out lesbian who'd been with girls since high school. With her I discovered that the taste of a woman was everything I'd imagined. I loved what she made me feel with her mouth and fingers. I learned how to make her feel the same with my fingers and tongue. God, she was so beautiful when she came hard and long as I watched from between her legs.

Very quickly I found out two things. I loved girls and I loved topping girls. Topping meant I was in control of what happened and when. Most of the girls I brought to my apartment seemed inexperienced and all to ready to be topped. I topped and topped and topped that Fall Semester.

That Fall Semester I also found that with a steady diet of girls I could also like boys. Not being a whore meant that I could control when and with whom I did what. That made a world of difference the times I would accept an invite up to a Greek geek's room. I'd always make the Greek guy use his mouth between my legs first and just as I started coming I'd tell him to start fucking me hard and fast. That always felt good.

Once I did a gangbang when, after one guy fucked me, I was still feeling horny. It didn't take long to round up more horny Greeks. I'd had several sessions with more than one guy when I was whoring but never a gangbang like I'd seen on porn videos. With all the fucking I'd done I still hadn't ever had an orgasm while fucking. Oral sex and fingering, sure. I figured it was because one guy just didn't last long enough. I wondered if a lot of guys fucking me would give me that magical Big O. I was also curious how many guys I could fuck. I still don't know because I lost count. All I know is that I arrived at the party at 10pm that night and left at 4am the next morning. I'd been well and truly fucked. Still no Big O though.

After I got home and showered, I particularly enjoyed knowing that someone else's bed had wet spots and not mine as I got between the sheets.

That Christmas break when I celebrated my maybe 15th, maybe 14th, maybe 16th birthday I had my first threesome with a girl and a guy. The best of both worlds. I was definitely a switch hitter and I couldn't wait for Christmas to be over so the Greeks would return to college.

As I topped and topped and topped and fucked and fucked and fucked, I also robbed and robbed and robbed. It wasn't always money I stole. If I needed cosmetics I broke into a cosmetic store and took all I could carry of the good stuff I couldn't afford to buy. Cigarettes? One mom and pop store and I had cartons and cartons of cigarettes. Not always in the brand I liked but good enough to kill my nicotine cravings. Shoes? One shoe store and I had several pairs of everything from stiletto heel boots to sneakers. Clothes? One break in and I had arm loads of clothes. It all came down to going from store to store, casing the joint and having a plan. Always have a plan!

Only once did a cop come around the shop. Wanted to make sure Mr. Mack hadn't had any master keys stolen. Mr. Mack showed him where he kept all the masters locked in a safe and that they were still all there. Me? My part was to unbutton my shirt a little lower and lean over the counter. With a blank look on my face while my biceps pushed my boobs together to show my cleavage better... Cop went away happy.

The problem was, my little efficiency apartment didn't have room for all I was stealing. Even with less money going out on cigarettes and other things and even with the money I made at work and on my 'part time jobs', larger apartments were expensive in a college town. Especially if I wanted to stay within walking distance of my work and my Greek fun houses.

Apartment ads were more plentiful as students dropped out after one semester of discovering that college was harder than they had expected. But, Holy shit!, the prices the landlords wanted! So I just said Fuck it! and went shopping for landlords along with apartments. My third trip apartment hunting, I got an old guy in his 40's who took the hint when I asked if there was anything I could do around the apartment building during the week to maybe get a cut in the rent. I got a great rental agreement and became a junior landlord whose only responsibility was to make the landlord happy once a week.

I didn't consider myself a whore. I was a mistress now. Not a bad arrangement since he called to set up times and never just dropped by unannounced. Poor old guy had performance issues, too. Very quick off the mark, if you know what I mean. Since I was too young to buy booze, he began bringing some very nice bourbon with him. He was pretty much a straight missionary or doggy style type. He'd bunny rabbit me for a couple of minutes and then we'd lounge on the bed and sip bourbon until he'd want to try again. He'd last longer the second time, but usually in an hour from showing up he'd be leaving. Shit, one hour a week for the deal I got on my apartment? I'd done a whole lot more with a whole lot worse for a whole lot less.

Great rent, money from my job, money from my thefts and money from selling bottles of watered down bourbon to college students too young to buy booze. Then I discovered another money making scheme. See, college textbooks are expensive and there were plenty just lying around apartments while students were out taking classes that didn't require those books on those days. So I began knocking on doors during the mornings before work. Picking locks of apartments when no one answered, I took the books and anything else I liked.

I only returned two or three textbooks a month to one of the bookstores to escape detection since people might get suspicious of a girl returning books by the truck load. That was still easy money every month for almost no effort. I soon had a closet stacked high with books. To pass nights when I wasn't partying, casing joints or stealing, I read them. Calculus was a bitch to figure out. Chemistry and physics seemed to be an exercise in memorization of formulas. History was interesting but English Lit and philosophy seemed like shit courses made to give idiots a job teaching crap.

That Spring Semester I was pretty happy. My sex life was very satisfying over at the Greek houses. I think I was helping my landlord get over his premature problem. My nest egg was full again and growing, plus I had money left over to look for a used, old clunker-mobile so I could extend the range of my crime spree.

Spring Semester was over and I'd pretty much cleaned out all the stores that weren't protected by alarm systems. Driving around high-priced neighborhoods I noticed more and more lawn signs saying that this house and that house was protected by an alarm system.

I decided I needed to learn about alarm systems. I convinced Mr. Mack to let me order some simple ones. I told him they looked easy to install and he could start making more money putting them in. With the orders I put in, came calls from sale reps trying to get a new customer to buy more products. If I had questions like, But if the phone line is cut will it still alert the police or your monitoring service? If that wire is cut will it still set off the bell on the outside and wake the neighbors? If the power goes out, like, during a storm, will the system still work? My class in Alarms 101 was pretty easy with all the eager people ready to answer my every question so I'd order more product.

I made a nice display of the alarms we now offered and Mr. Mack did start making more money. I got a salary raise and an education on how to beat every alarm system he installed as well as other systems we hadn't even ordered.

With houses that had alarm systems open to me now, my money stash grew to a size I'd only dreamed of before. My coffee cans of jewelry grew to three and then four. With my education on how to disable alarm systems I began to target larger houses in richer neighborhoods. But house after house in the richer neighborhoods all seemed to have safes! I just knew a bunch of really good stuff was in those safes, but I couldn't get into them. Frustrating as all hell!

I gave it some thought and the answer was obvious. If I'd learned about locks and alarms at a place that installed them, I could learn about safes working at a place that made them. I did my research and found a company in Wisconsin that made a bunch of safes and bank vaults for all over the world.

I gave Mr. Mack a sob story about needing to move back home to help my mom out along with my two week notice. Just as Fall Semester began and students were returning to college, I was living in a different city under a new identity and working as a receptionist for a company that made oodles and oodles of safes and bank vaults.

Several Years Ago... Wisconsin

Getting hired was a no brainer. My current identity had been put together with care so I knew it would hold up to a security check. According to my new bio I was eighteen years old and just graduated from a high school in Denver. When I was informed to come in and see Mr. Walsh for an interview I wore a padded half-bra to make my boobs look bigger and unbuttoned an extra button on my shirt and leaned over a lot. A giggly, airhead persona, short skirt with maximum cleavage... Shit, I was hired before being given a typing test.

For the first few days all I did was make friends and turn down invites from Mr. Walsh for dates. Gently, of course. I had a fictional boyfriend after all that I just couldn't cheat on. I scoped the place out, walked the assembly lines on breaks and lunch hour and never asked questions. I quickly learned that there were two breakrooms. One for the office help and one for the line workers. I chose the second to hang out in.

Really? It was so fucking simple that I laugh to think about it.

See, while these workers put safes and bank vaults together, they had lots of time to think about how to break into safes and bank vaults. It's just human nature. You put something together, you naturally think about ways to take it apart.

I learned to keep my opinions to myself in the break room. After all, I was an airhead. One time the guys were bullshitting about this guy who'd killed his wife and then dumped her body into the ocean. He made up a story of how she'd run off with another man only to have her body wash ashore a couple of days later. It was all over the news at the time.

I was concentrating on getting the last bit of yogurt out of a little cup and just muttered, "What a fucking idiot. All he had to do was get some rope and a couple of cinder blocks to weight the body down and he could've gotten away with it. Stupid fucker deserves to die." I got some weird looks and after that all I did in the break room was eat lunch, show leg and cleavage while giggling at their jokes.

I was soon being given guided tours of the assembly lines during my smoke breaks. The company allowed smoking in the assembly area. I'd strike up a conversation and say something like, Oh, but what if the customer forgets the combination? I always forget my own phone number! Giggle... And a lot of times the answer would be something, like... "They just call us and we'll come and open it for them. This lock is a piece of crap anyway. Because of the locking mechanism the metal here is only a third of an inch thick. All we have to do is drill a little hole right here, insert a wire and trip a latch to open it. They'll have to buy a new door but, hell, we got plenty of those."

"Oh, I bet it takes a really tough thingy to drill through all that metal."

"Yeah, this is case hardened steel and it takes a special drill bit. We use this brand..."

"Ohhhhh," Giggle...

Over the course of a few months I got an education on how to open every brand of safe they made. Where to drill, what lever to trip... These guys spent hours thinking about what I wanted to do. And it was all so easy to get what they knew. Men are so stupid. Giggle...

I also spent time on the large assembly lines where bank vaults were built. I learned just enough to know I'd never be able to break in through the door. Believe me, those movies where a spy sets off a tiny explosion inside a vault door and a 14 inch thick, steel door just pops open? Fiction!!!

I did learn things like, "But where's the floor at?"

"This baby won't have a floor. It's gonna sit on a foot thick pad of reinforced concrete and the company decided to save some money and not pay for a floor."

"Well, yeah! No one could ever get through all that concrete!" Giggle...

I also learned about safety deposit boxes and how only a few keys were required to open them all. Think about it. This company made thousands of boxes. It just didn't make sense to make thousands of extra keys if the bank or a customer lost one and had to re-order. Five master and ten customer keys. The men assembling the boxes needed keys to test the locks. All I had to do was palm one on the line when no one was watching and soon I had a complete set. I didn't know when I might be in a bank vault to use the keys, but a girls gotta be prepared!

The next thing I needed was to find out where all these safes and vaults were being installed. Only a Vice-President of the company or above had access to that info. I made up excuses, like letters I wanted to finish before leaving work, in order to stay at my desk until everyone else had left. I looked all over Mr. Walsh's office and the offices of the other three Vice-Presidents to see if their computer log-in codes were written down anywhere. Zilch results. I knew my way around a computer by now, but hacking into someone's account was way beyond my skill level. I needed that sales account file though. What was the use of knowing how to crack a safe if I didn't know where the damned safe was!

So, I finally accepted one of Mr. Walsh's invitations to dinner. My imaginary boyfriend had broken up with me, boo-hoo!, and I started a torrid love affair with him. Well, I guess he figured it was torrid. We fucked at work, in my apartment, our cars, even his home one weekend when his wife was out of town. The guy had amazing stamina for an old guy in his 30s.

So did I, come to think about it. The town I was living in didn't have a college or a Greek fun house nearby where I could play so the enthusiasm I had for sex with Mr. Walsh wasn't all faked.

About a month into our affair I mentioned that if he came to work early the next morning I might put a smile on his face for the day. Next morning before anyone else was in the office he was sitting at his desk horny as a hound dog with me kneeling on the floor giving him my best blow job till he came. He liked coming in my mouth because it was something his wife never let him do.

While he was in a nice zone afterwards I stood behind his chair nuzzling his neck and whispering that if he would print out today's schedule it would save me a trip. I watched every letter and number he logged on with and wrote it down when I got to my desk. Two evenings later I had everything I needed downloaded onto a flashcard. I knew where and what type and the location in the house of every safe that had been installed by this company in the last fifty years. I even knew what alarms, if any, had been installed. Same with bank vaults.

I waited another month to end our affair with the story of a new boyfriend. Mr. Walsh was pretty cool about it. I think he'd begun banging the new secretary on the second floor anyway. That cheating bastard!

Chapter 12

A Few Years Ago... Wisconsin

I pulled my blanket snug around my shoulders and stared out my apartment window at the snow outside. Today was my birthday and I was feeling blue. I didn't really know when my birthday was, but it was cold and there was snow on the ground once when Mother threw a Hostess Twinkie at me and yelled, Happy fucking birthday. Not knowing the exact date I got to choose my own. I'd chosen December 25th. If it was good enough for Him, it was good enough for me.

I reached over to the coffee table and stuck a candle in the center of a Twinkie. I lit it, blew it out, stuffed the cake in my mouth and mummmmbled myself a happy fucking birthday. It didn't make me feel any less blue. This was my second birthday since I ran away. I was maybe 16, or maybe 15 or maybe 17. I had a nice apartment with pretty things arranged just as I wanted. I'd bought another car, a much nicer car than my clunker-mobile. I had closets of designer name clothes and shoes. My vanity table was stockpiled with only the best in cosmetics. I was healthy. I ate well and pooped regularly. I had a door I could lock and never let anyone through I didn't want to see. Tonight I'd go to sleep between soft, clean sheets that didn't have cum stains or wet spots. I had everything I once thought I'd ever want. But there was something not quite right... I still wanted, something...

I lit a cigarette and took a sip from the bottle of bourbon I had between my legs. Then a longer sip and set the bottle onto the coffee table beside the Twinkie wrapper. I looked at the snow outside and felt bluer.

Part of my depression was due to the fact I couldn't go and break into any more houses until the snow melted and in Wisconsin the snow might not melt until April or May. Knowing what I now knew about safes, locks and alarm systems, I'd been able to gather the equipment I would need in time to case and hit only a few nice homes before it started snowing and I had to call it quits. Even the Invisible Thief left footprints in snow. Although my stash of jewelry and cash had grown larger, much larger, it still wasn't large enough for what I really wanted.

It's time I moved on, I thought. Someplace warmer. Someplace with no snow. Someplace I can really earn money...

Three Months Later... Hollywood, California

I loved California. The sun, the warm temperature, the fact I could go jogging everyday to case houses and blend right in with the other joggers. The beach! Especially the beach. I'd never seen the ocean before and I was in love with the sun, surf and sand.

I could do without the sunburn, though. My skin just didn't want to tan. Just burn, flake and burn again. I had to slather my body in the highest SPF lotion to even have a chance to enjoy an hour in the mid-day sun. I finally just gave up on sunbathing. Something my skin appreciated later in life.

I gave the setting sun one more look and turned away from the ocean to trudge through the sand to my car. I knew it was time to move on. California just wasn't for me right now. I wanted to spend all day at the beach instead of casing houses.

When I was casing houses I discovered that no one in the nicer houses seemed to go to work! Did everyone in Hollywood work from their house? Either the owners stayed in their home all day with a cell phone to their ear or they had servants. Most times both. I'd only been able to rob three houses since moving here. Pretty good scores, but the cost of living here was enormous.

My stash of money had grown pretty spectacularly though. I'd begun taking the jewels out of my jewelry stash. I checked each jewel under a microscope for any lasered on identification number and if I didn't see one, I added it to the large sack of other jewels to be sold. I sold them to some of the high end stores that designed their own jewelry lines. Rubies, emeralds, and diamonds went out by the bag and money came in. I bought a blow torch and crucible and the metal parts were now ingots of gold, silver and platinum. Made it all much easier to tote than coffee cans.

Yes, it was time to move on. A few days to cobble together a new identity and I'd move on just in case anyone started asking questions about where I'd gotten the jewels. I needed a city where people worked away from home and the houses weren't mansions with servants. I wanted the houses closer together so I could case them in a bunch, too.

Middle Of October... Chicago

The gated communities around Chicago turned out to be gold mines for me! People actually seemed to work for their money. Away from their houses! With my list of homes that had safes I could jog past the gates and join other morning joggers in the mornings to watch to see who left. Did the house with the safe have a stay-at-home mom? A housekeeper? k**s? One tip off would be two cars in the driveway on my first jog through and then both cars gone on my next jog by. From early August until now any k**dies would be in school and even more houses were left empty.
It was like a big, unguarded candy store.

And every week there seemed to be a huge gala for the well-to-do to get dressed up for and make an appearance. Those were money in the bank nights because idiot society bloggers would actually publish names of those expected to attend. Also in attendance will be Mr. and Mrs. Smithy-Smite-Smith. Though in their sixties -no k**dies left at home- the former dance queen and her husband can still cut quite the rug... -In good health, no live in help- ...
It was like having extra eyes casing my target houses.

My money stash grew to amazing proportions. Jewels without ID markings were kept to be sold elsewhere when the heat was off for these particular gems. Metal was melted down. Those gems I found with ID laser codes were left on sidewalks. Maybe the person who found and tried to sell them got caught, maybe they didn't. I didn't care and I certainly wasn't going to take the risk selling them. And, no, I didn't shed a tear or lose one minute of sleep if I left a three carat ruby on a sidewalk when no one was watching. Money don't mean shit in jail.

Yep, Chicago certainly paid off. Letting out my breath, I could see it fog in the cold air. Snow was not far away. Time to move on...

December 25th... Mountains Of North Carolina

I blew out the candle, stuffed the Twinkie in my mouth, mummmbled, Happy Fucking Birthday and didn't feel the least blue. Today I was maybe 17, maybe 16 or maybe 18. But, I was also living in my own paid for farm house, on my own paid for land.

Okay, so the house needed fixing up and the yard was a complete mess. Even after buying the house, barn and the hundred acres of land that went with it, I had money left over to fix up the house and barn. The yard could wait till Spring.

I took lighter and cigarettes and sat on my porch swing on my porch and looked out over my land while lighting up. The pine trees were green, the grass was brown, the sky was a dazzling blue and there were patches of white snow about under the trees and in shady places the sun didn't reach.

My new persona was my masterpiece. It had taken months to put together. The date of birth on my birth certificate and driver's license really did have December 25th as my birthday. As far as anyone else knew, I was 21 today. Whoop-tee-doo-doo-doo, I could buy my own booze now!

I was from South Bend, Indiana and it would take some pretty heavy digging to prove otherwise. My new identity might not stand up to a government background check, but I didn't have any plans to run for office no ways. Anything less than an all out FBI investigation would run into a stone wall trying to prove I wasn't who I said I was. This persona was not to be used for jobs, though. Only here in my new home, in my new county and state. Anything job related and I'd use a one time, throw-away persona.

As soon as these stupid holidays were over I'd begin having contractors come to fix up the house and barn. For months I've had ideas on how to improve my safe cracking skills without a place to practice those ideas. My barn was to become the place I could have room to test those ideas.

It was getting colder with the sun setting behind the house and my stomach was wondering when I was gonna feed it. Tossing the butt of my cigarette into a large iron pot that I'd found in the barn and dragged to the porch for just this use, I went back inside my house.

April... A Farm House

You know what was strange? I was maybe 17, maybe 16, maybe 18. That age when teens were supposed to be stupid and wild as they tested their wings and I was the exact opposite. I'd already sown my wild oats, tested my wings and experimented with sex far to much. I wanted normality!

My house was a normal, typical farm house built seventy-five or so years back when a large family was the norm. After all the renovations I had three bedrooms and a bath upstairs that I never saw except to vacuum and dust once a month. Downstairs I had a large bedroom for me, a living room/den combination, dining room, a huge kitchen and a bathroom I'd spent far too much on to make it just right.

The fresh paint smell was wearing off and although I needed some more odds-and-ends of this-and-that to complete a couple of rooms, I was settling into my new house like a tired, old foot into a trusty, broken-in shoe. Just the perfect fit.
I was settling into my new persona, too. My nearest neighbor helped with that. She'd come over between Christmas and New Years to welcome me to our neck of the woods with some kind'a tuna and pasta combo in a deep dish. It was pretty good.

Mrs. VanHoose, You just call me Marty, it's short for Martha, was in her late 30's, had two boys in their teens that she referred to as, My two idiots. Takes after their dad that way, and had an outlook on life and a sense of humor that was as earthy as the garden she planted every Spring.

I'd seen her truck pull into my driveway from the road and had been outside to greet her when she got out and in a loud voice had asked, "Hey there, honey. Your mama home?"

I told her that I was her new neighbor and how old I was... "No way! I'd'a sworn you wasn't but the same age as my oldest boy. Lord God, but you got some good genes in your family!"

I told her how my parents had died in an auto accident out on I-75... "Oh, you poor thing! Well, I'll look after ya s'long as you're here, now."

I'd gotten some money from an insurance company because the driver for the large freight company had been driving way over his allotted hours and was drunk, too... "Well, Lord knows money don't take the place of loved ones, but it does come in handy."

I'd quit my job as a secretary to move someplace quiet... "Well you shore picked the right spot then, honey! Nothin' ever happens roun' here." I wanted to try my hand at my secret passion, sculpting out of iron and stone... "Why, yer just like that lady in that Highlander show on TV! The one that got killed off. We'll get some braggin' rights to havin' our very own artist in these parts."

I wasn't married or currently seeing anyone... "Lots'a men round here gonna be glad to hear that! But, you listen here, any man that comes on to 'handsy', if ya know what I mean, you just let me know. I've castrated enough bulls and pigs in my time to know the lay of the land and what to do to men that don't treat a lady right!"

I was planning on renovating the house... "Why, I know just the men you need ta talk to." And make my yard nice... "My idiot boys ain't good fer much, but they can do yard work." And find a church... "You just be ready Sunday morning and come with us. We're Church of Christ members, but we make anyone welcome! Even Baptists," Marty added with a slap on the table and a long laugh.

Before I'd finished eating the first plate of tuna stuff I knew my story was planted in fertile ground and would be spread all over the county by sunset. In less than a month people around the county were greeting me by name when they saw me in town. I was, "Oh, so you're Jessie. That artist that moved into the old Johnson place next to Marty." See? I was normal in every way.

Normal without a few eccentricities, though, would cause people to try to find some or make them up. So I made myself normal with just enough oddities for people to accept as normal for me.

I always dressed well even when just on my farm. I was never seen anywhere in jeans, t-shirts or sneakers. Trying to convince people I was twenty-one was hard enough without dressing like a teenager. A different necklace every trip to town. Designer label purse, blouses, skirt or pants with loafers when on my farm or heels when off became something people, especially women, instantly noticed and gossiped about. I was a bit odd. But odd within normal boundaries.
I never seemed to be in a hurry. If I was shopping in town or running errands I was always ready to stop and talk for as long as the other person wanted.

I made myself knowledgeable in college basketball. It was Duke or North Carolina basketball that was all the rage during basketball season. I began wearing a Kentucky cap for my trips to town during March Madness so people could give me a friendly BOOOOO! KENTUCKY SUCKS!, yell from across the street.

I became known for being a soft touch if any group was selling anything. Girl Scouts swarmed me in town during the last cookie selling drive.

I went to Sunday morning service every week, but not on Sunday nights or to Wednesday evening Bible study so I was just religious enough without being a religious nut.

I had an espresso machine instead of a coffee maker. I always had fresh cake or cookies when Marty or her boys dropped by. My house was always clean. Yet, no one dropping by ever found me cleaning or baking.

I ordered 'weird' things like plates of steel in various thicknesses and other odd things no one could figure out the use I might have for them. But they seemed to shrug that off as normal. I was an artist after all.

I paid a good wage to Marty's boys for tending to my yard work and in return for inspecting and repairing the fence around my property I insisted that Marty's husband begin running his cows on my land. It went unsaid that the increase to the herd they were able to raise on an extra hundred acres made quite a impact on the amount of money they had. Everyone already knew I had 'a lot' of insurance money. Now I became known for being generous without having to wave that money under people's noses.

All in all, in just a few months I'd been accepted as an odd, yet perfectly respectable, young lady. I even went on normal dates and had normal sex when I had an itch I needed scratched. I was normal and I loved it.

Late July... A Farm House

I was just back from my first trip into the world since moving to North Carolina. It had been extremely profitable. This time I'd gone as far north as Montreal to escape the heat and a few Canadians were a bit poorer for my trip to their country. But I'd figured out ways to make currency exchanges without becoming conspicuous so all to the good as far as I was concerned.

My first stop had been to Marty's. I'd left a book of signed checks with her so she could pay my bills while I'd been gone on my 'tour of art dealerships and museums to get ideas'. I was an artist after all. I'd even arranged to pay a welder at a scrap metal yard to start teaching me how to weld later this month. Only so I could do my art, of course! I was also interested in a theatre group in Ashville. Ashville wasn't that far away and I thought who best could help the Invisible Thief learn new ways to be invisible than people who knew make-up and created a whole world in a small space.

After being grilled over fictional details of my trip and a 'little fling' I'd had in San Francisco, "No, I didn't leave my heart in San Francisco, but I think I left a pair of panties under a car seat." That had Marty laughing and slapping the table and I was finally able to leave and go home.

Speaking of panties, I was pretty sure one, or both, of Marty's boys had been poking around the lingerie, bra and panties drawers of my armoire. I'd said it was okay if her boys wanted to spend some nights in my place so it wouldn't be empty. If the idiots wanted to spend time looking at my undies that was okay with me as long as I wasn't in them because my house was safe, the lawn mowed and the dishes were all washed before I got home. I made a mental note to buy more frilly things, maybe a couple of crotch less panties and more thongs for the boys to fondle.

As far as anything else they might have found in my house there was only Betsy the Vibrator in my nightstand drawer. I made another mental note to buy more toys for them to imagine me using while wanking off.

I didn't keep anything in my house or barn that might give even a clue to my secret life as a thief. Let the boys explore anything they wanted was my philosophy. I found out with a little computer probing of my laptop that they'd certainly explored pretty much every free porn site available. Horny little guys.

As far as anything else they might have found, well, I'd spent a few long hours excavating a nice hole under a wintergreen tree with branches that drooped to the ground. Then lined the hole with handfuls of quick drying concrete. You had to get on your hands and knees to get under the branches, dig three inches down and two feet square to uncover the boards covering the hole where I had my metal ingots, gems and money stash. I also kept my throw away IDs there. I didn't keep jewelry anymore. As soon as possible I sold unmarked gems, got rid of marked gems and melted down the metal. Believe me, whenever I made a deposit or withdrawal from my 'bank' I made sure to cover my tracks.

Retrieving the jewelry from the bottom of my suitcase, I tossed the mound onto my bed and decided it was time to have an electric kiln delivered to my barn, Melting the metal down with a blow torch didn't remove all the trace metals. I needed a constant heat at a precise temperature. I wanted nice 99.999% pure gold ingots. They'd look so cool.

Early September... A Farm House

"If I knew a society blogger I'd fuck him. Or her! Right here, right now," I exclaimed as I threw myself onto my bed with an explosion of hundred dollar bills.

I was just back from a one month excursion to the northeast where the 'Summer Crowd' was busily using Summer as a verb. Galas and parties and yachting events had been in full swing and being helpful, idle rich they often lent their servants to help out the person throwing the event. Thus emptying their house for me. I'd only been there three weeks and I'd cleared enough just in cash to retire for a year. Two years! Five!, I thought as I tossed more hundreds into the air to rain down on me.

And the jewelry! I had half a suitcase filled with the stuff. It would take me days to separate the gems from the metal and melt it down. My kiln was gonna be working overtime for the next week.

I already had my next trip planned as soon as I had my pretty bars of gold, silver and platinum made. I'd had some questions kicking around in my brain that needed answering and I'd finally decided where the best place would be to get some answers.

Mid-September... Massachusetts Institute of Technology

MIT was, like, nerd central for big brains. If MIT was a country, then the library was the capitol city of Nerdvania. It was there I went to get questions answered. Tonight it was all about lasers. My technique was simple. Go to the part of the library that had books on lasers. Dress in tight jeans, a button down shirt with two to many buttons loose and a bra with padding that made my boobs look big. Pick the guy with the thickest glasses and tell him that professor so-and-so wanted me to build a laser that would cut through steel. Ask if he knew anything about lasers.

The technique had worked previous nights for other questions and soon pretty soon I had a round table discussion group putting together a laser. I just took notes and listened carefully, steering the group back on subject if it started to drift. When the brain trust seemed out of ideas for the night I decided to come back tomorrow night and maybe get more ideas from another group. As I was leaving, I passed by one table where a fat geek had been sitting all night with a smirk on his face watching us.

"It won't work you know," he said as I passed.

I stopped. "What won't work."

"The stupid laser they put together for you. It'll go through two inches of steel, but it will also go through the Earth's crust and require the out-put of a nuclear reactor to power. They were building the fucking Death Star." He nudged a chair away from his table with his foot. "Why don't you sit down and tell me what your scam is and what you really need a laser to do for you."

I sat and answered, "I don't have a scam. I just asked a question my professor wan..."

"Nope," he said cutting me off. "This library has been my second home for six years. I notice people who belong here. You've never been here before this week and you're asking questions about things that don't add up. You have a scam going and I want in."

I leaned over the table and asked in my best innocent voice, "What makes you think I have a scam go..."

"Put those tits away. I'm gay. Queer as a three dollar bill. Unless you have a dick in those tight jeans I'm not interested. I know you have a scam going because I can smell it. I come from a family with a history of scam artists from ancestors who were Mississippi riverboat gamblers to my idiot cousins doctor shopping for pills. Now why don't you tell me what you need a laser to do."

I leaned back and decided I had nothing to lose. I could always walk away and he'd never know who I was. "I need to burn through one inch of case hardened steel in under thirty minutes. It needs to be portable and work on house electricity."

"Not gonna happen. The laser to do that wouldn't be portable and it would need a dedicated line to a power plant to put out that much through-put."

I sat back defeated.

"But," he continued, "What I can build is a laser working off a portable battery pack that can disable surveillance cameras and infrared/motion detectors. It will cut fiber optic and copper wires to alarm systems from a hundred yards. Interested?"

Hell, yea, I was interested. I'd had to pass on many houses because their security systems were top notch. Even getting close enough to disable them was impossible without triggering the system and having one minute or less to punch in a code word. To be able to disable them from a hundred yards would...

"Why would you help me?"

"Look at me. I've studied my ass off for six years. I have four Master degrees and next Spring I'll have my doctorate. You know what that will get me? The right to be called doctor and a job that will cover my student loan payments with enough left over for me to continue living just above the poverty level for the next ten years." He waved a hand in my direction. "Look at you. If you're in your twenties I'll eat rice cakes and lose fifty pounds. Yet your clothes and shoes cost more than my apartment rent for the next three months. That bracelet you're wearing is easily worth ten grand. Your necklace another five grand. I worked in my aunt's pawn shop to earn money. I've got a good eye in estimating worth. So, whatever scam you're running is profitable. Deal me in and you will have access to many things you may not even know you need yet."

I folded my arms under the chest he wasn't interested in and thought for a bit. "You any good at hacking computers?"

"I'm very good."

I fished the name and number of a guy who'd asked me out from my bra. I slid it across the table with a fingertip. "You get in and change this guy's grades to all A's by morning and you're in," I challenged him. "10% off the top goes into a fund to finance future deals. The rest is a 50/50 split."

"Deal."

Before morning I had a partner. With his expertise I was able to go back to many houses I'd already cased and get in. He actually built me a 'laser rifle' with telescopic sights that I could use to blind cameras, cut phone wires and disconnect security systems from the shadows without a chance of being seen. The power pack was bulkier than he'd let on and heavy as shit, but once I was ready to go in for the score it was his job to lug it away.

I'd always worried that the sound of my drills would mask the sound of someone returning home unexpectedly. I was always stopping at every imagined sound. With him standing watch and monitoring for alarms going off I was able to move quicker and finish jobs faster.

I celebrated my maybe 18th, maybe 17th maybe 19th birthday making more money than I ever had even after the 50/50 split. Things were going well, but I was ready for a change so one evening I asked my partner if he'd ever thought about traveling to Europe.

Chapter 13

Eight Months Ago, Early November... Hamburg, Germany

I lit a cigarette and ran through my mental list. Yep, I was ready to leave. I slipped the passport and ID I'd used to enter Europe and hadn't used since into my purse. I'd used other throw-away ID's to travel on. This ID that showed I'd entered Europe was still safe to leave Europe on. I wanted to be home in time to celebrate my maybe twentieth, maybe nineteenth, maybe twenty-first birthday at home.

My partner was gone already. Our money was already safely transferred to accounts in parts of the world where it was safe from the IRS. I was anticipating a nice visit with Giselle in Amsterdam before flying home and all was right with the world when there was a knock on the door.

"Ms. Simons? Ms. Christina Simons? May I speak with you," came the reply when I asked who was there. Male, nice voice, but English was definitely not his first language. A nice blend of English accent with an undertone of a Latin flavor.

"Yes?" Didn't sound like a cop.

"Ahh, good. My name is Giancarlo and it will mean nothing to you for we have never met. But we both have a friend in common. A friend who you did business with just last night."

"I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else." The only person I'd seen last night was the fence I'd found a year ago to buy the jewelry I'd stolen. I couldn't think of a way out'a here. This room was on the fifth floor. Far to high to jump and unlike the movies there was no convenient swimming pool to aim for. I made a mental note to never let myself be booked onto a floor higher than I could jump from in the future.

"I understand your caution Ms. Simons. I would be cautious, too were I a young lady with an unknown gentleman at the door of my hotel room. Please, look into your purse and perhaps things will be clearer. I promise you I am not here to offer you any trouble, only an invitation."

I looked in my purse and... Son-of-a-bitch! There it was. About the size of a small Bic lighter. I thought quickly. The only time my purse had been out of my sight had been when we'd gone into his other office to wire funds into the accounts I'd given him. His associate was alone with my purse...

I walked over and snatched open the door. Standing there was tall, dark and handsome. It's Remington Steele was my first thought. My second thought was I should close my mouth before I began drooling. My third thought was I was supposed to be angry. I threw the tracker at him. "Here. Tell our friend that the next time I see him I'm gonna kick his ass!"

"Please don't. He's usually very dependable and discreet. Only because my uncle asked would he do this."

"And your uncle asked him to do this, why?"

"Because you keep disappearing," Gi said disgustedly and threw up his hands. "My uncle has wanted to talk to you for some time. The man who did this with your purse was ordered not to scare you so you would keep coming back to him, but to try to slow you down each previous time. Still, you kept disappearing before I show up! This is the third time I've been asked to drop everything to track you down, to invite you to visit him at his home in Sicily. I'm hoping it's the last. It's very inconvenient."

"Why?"

"It's inconvenient because I had meetings scheduled for the day. Why my uncle wishes to see you, I don't know." Gi said then repeated himself at my look of disbelief. "Truly, I don't know! My uncle keeps me, umm, what is the phrase, 'in the dark' about his business, this side of his business, but for this he wanted someone he could trust to be discreet so he ask me."

"And you're to do, what again?"

"I shall be direct, it seems, to get message to you. Ms. Christina Simons, would you please allow me to escort you to meet my uncle. I have a plane waiting and by this evening he can tell you why he wishes to see you. There, my entire mission here is finished."

"And if I don't want to go?"

"Here is door and there is elevator. I shall even carry your luggage for you," Gi replied backing away from the door so I could leave. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket he took out a pen and business card. "And this is my business card and this is my personal number I can be reached through directly at any time, day or night, if you change your mind and accept my uncle's invitation. If you wish, my car and driver will take you to the airport and I shall even wave goodbye. Sadly I shall wave as a beautiful woman flies from my heart."

I had to smile. "Nice line. Does it work for you often?"

"What is this line, you speak of," Gi said with a look of sincerity and eyes that would melt butter as he moved closer and, taking my hand, placed it to his heart. "I speak of nothing but truth, mia caro."

The trill to his R's sent a shiver up my spine that made me want to grab that tight little tushy of his and... But I forced myself to only pat his chest and run my hand down his stomach a bit before taking my hand away. "Oh, you are good, bub. You are very, very good."

Tall, dark and handsome smiled. "I wear no 'wire', mia caro, for others to listen to? I am here only with invitation and nothing other. But, please, frisk all of me if you wish," he said moving closer.

I made up my mind. After all, I did need to leave Germany. Curiosity kills the cat, but I still had seven lives left.

Sicily...

The temperature was much nicer here than in Germany where we'd taken off just as snow started to fall. There was a car and driver waiting for us and as soon as we were on the road Gi asked if I would mind making a stop before he took me to his uncle. Soon we pulled into a circular driveway and stopped in front of a large three story house.

"It's beautiful, Gi," I remarked as I looked at the terraced landscaping.

"It is my parents and it is much closer than my home. I still have a room here. It is two, three hours more to get to my uncle's home and I thought you might like to, 'freshen up' is phrase? Change into something more, umm, fitting? to the warmer weather."

Gi led me inside and up a flight of stairs. It was spectacular. I wondered if it had a safe. Leading me to a room, Gi set my luggage on a bed. "This my old room. Through there is shower if you want. It has only men's soap and no woman's shampoo, but you can make do? Please, take as much time as you wish. I will send Rosa up, see if you need clothes ironed. I can carry ladies luggage, but ironing is beyond my skill. I shall be downstairs when you are ready."

I thought it was very 'Old Worldly' to care about a guests comfort this much. Most places it would have been rush, rush, rush. Here in Sicily time must move slower. I did shower and find lighter weight clothes to put on. I felt much better, more grounded, as I went back downstairs and found Gi stretched out on a couch fast asleep.

He really was something. Lean without being thin. Muscular without the beefy bulk. If I was in Hollywood and put out a casting call for men who fit my ideal of scrumptious I couldn't have found a better looking man. He must have sensed my presence in the room because he woke with a start.

"I apologize, mia caro," Gi said, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. Stretching, he put his shoes and jacket back on. "I do not usually fall asleep with a beautiful woman in my bedroom." Gi laughed and stood up. "I had business meetings until late last night and then Uncle Carlos asked me to fly to Germany and," Gi stretched again, "I do not sleep well in planes and cars."

Retrieving my bags, Gi led me back to the car. "I asked Rosa to pack us a light snack we may eat in the car. I would ask you to stay and eat, but I fear the She Dragon will be home soon and we must escape her clutches."

"She Dragon?"

'My mother. She has decided it is long past time I should be married and she swoops down upon unsuspecting prey such as young, beautiful girls like you. She will be angry with me for depriving her of her sport with you, but unless you truly want to endure hours of questioning by the She Dragon it is well we left."

I enjoyed the two hour drive along a winding, scenic road with the sea almost always in sight. Gi was a wonderful companion and tour guide. Pointing out places of interest and very easy to talk to though I could tell he was very tired. The villa we pulled up to was at the end of a long driveway and completely hidden from the road. At the top of a small rise it had a breath taking view of the Mediterranean Sea and vineyards up and down the surrounding slopes. The main house wasn't that large. It was... Comfortable was the word I came up with.

Gi asked if I'd like a moment to refresh myself again, what a charming way to ask if I needed to piss, and when I said no he led me down a hallway to where an old man was sitting behind a desk in his study. He looked in his eighties at least, but seemed pretty spry for his age as he got up and embraced Gi. He was much shorter than Gi's lean height, but there was a family resemblance.

"Ahh, my favorite nephew back at last."

"Back and reporting a successful mission, Uncle. May I present Ms. Christina Simons. Christina, this is my Great-Uncle, Carlos Giovanni. Now, with my mission finished I must admit to being very tired. Uncle, Christina, I hope I'm not very rude to ask to be excused that I may sleep and you may discuss your business."

"Giancarlo, before you leave there is puzzle I need you tell me answer to. Why are you and lovely Christina standing before me, and such a lovely couple you are, when this tracking thing you say will find lovely lady, it say she in Berlin now?"

I'd found the 'tracking thing' he'd slipped into my jacket's pocket when he'd gotten close and palmed it off onto a guy on the walk through the hotel to his car. I grinned at the look Gi shot me. "I gave it back once. You only get one try with me."

Gi tipped an imaginary cap to me as the old man laughed long and heartedly at him. "Ah, Christina, what a daughter you would have made," the old guy said and put both hands on my arms to draw me closer and kissed both my cheeks. "My house is yours. Be at peace in my home."

After Gi was excused, the old guy motioned towards a door leading outside. "I understand you smoke cigarettes. I smoke the occasional cigar. Why don't we go out onto the terrace. My housekeeper has a wonderful touch at making lemonade and we may drink and smoke.

"I do not smoke in the house," he continued as he seated me at a patio table. "A legacy from my beloved wife. She did not like the smell so I never smoke but outside. My comrades would make fun of me, a man who would not smoke in his own house. Who would not let comrades smoke in house. I did not care if it made my wife happy. But I have the last laugh. They are all dead and I continue so perhaps it was healthy to smoke outside," he concluded with a small laugh. "But where are my manners. You may be tired, also. I have a guest room prepared for you if you want to go, lie down and rest before I tell you my story."

"No, please, Mr. Giovanni, I'm very curious why you've invited me to your home. Perhaps I should add that if anything I've done has inconvenienced you in any way it was unintentional." I was no fool. This guy with his courtly manners was straight out'a The Godfather movies.

He looked at me for several seconds as if trying to understand what I'd said and then laughed and waved his hand dismissing what I'd said. "No, no, no my dear Christina. May I call you Christina? You have not caused me the slightest of hurts. If you had would not be nephew who come see you." I had a quick vision of two burly men busting down my hotel door and tossing me off the balcony.

"Now, we smoke, drink lemonade and I tell you my little story. Last year my beloved Great-niece. Great-Great niece?" Mr. Giovanni stopped and considered. "Bah, one more sign you are old when you forget how many 'Greats' to put in front of name. Anyway, she graduate from college. She want to go on to study medicine. Become a doctor. Make the family proud to have a doctor. But, first she wish to be married to a wonderful man. I very happy. I offer to pay for great wedding. Her parents say no. Not like my business. I say okay. I am not hurt. Many not like what I do. I say, ask, may I give bride one of the things she is to wear then. You know, the 'something borrowed, something blue' things that are spoken of at weddings. Her parents say would be fine I do that. I think and think what I can give to my wonderful niece who will make an old man proud by being doctor. Her eyes are blue and then I think of the 'something blue' I give her."

Mr. Giovanni took the time to light a small, gnarled looking cigar as his housekeeper appeared with glasses of what really was great lemonade. After a few minutes of us quietly appreciating the view of the sea from his patio, he continued his story. "I talk to people in New York City. People who have many diamonds. I want big, blue diamonds for earrings she wear at weddings. Deep blue like her eyes. Matching in color with beautiful necklace of smaller blue diamonds with one big, blue diamond here," and Mr. Giovanni touched his chest.

"Oh, niece would be so beautiful. So I need some small, blue diamond. Three larger, deep blue diamonds. Men in New York City say okay. They show me diamonds like I want. I say okay. They supposed to send these diamonds to jeweler to be set. Day before wedding I get what I want to give to niece. But they are not same diamonds. Not the deep blue I buy! They are light in color. Not matching in the color. These men cheat me! They cheat me!"

The old took a deep breath and calmed down before continuing. "I go to these men who cheat me, but they have friends I do business with. These friends ask me not to do anything. They make these men give back my money. Ask me to be okay now. I say okay. I have money back so okay. But it not okay," the old guy continued in a cold voice like ice.

The hand not holding the his cigar curled into a fist. "I see my beautiful niece on her wonderful day in diamonds that not okay. This is not about the money these men cheat me of. This is about my niece in pale blue diamonds that not match her eyes! This is about mi familia!" He emphasized his anger by hitting the table with his fist hard enough to make our glasses jump.

The old guy was upset and took time to calm down. He took a long sip of his lemonade and lit his second cigar. Another short, thin gnarled looking cigar with a pungent aroma. I could see why his wife hadn't liked them. I lit another cigarette and waited. I knew I never wanted this old man this angry at me. Rubbing his fist, he continued his story in a calmer voice, but slower and colder than before.

"I want these men ruined, Christina! I want them without friends! Then I can move against these men that cheat me. These men who ruin my present to my beloved niece. I want them dead!" Mr. Giovanni didn't hit the table again but there was cold resolve in his voice. Taking more puffs from his smoke his voice lost some of the coldness. "I see many that maybe help me, but I decide you are one I need."

"Me? But why? Why me? Mr. Giovanni, I admit I steal things but to kill..."

"No. No. No, Christina." Mr. Giovanni interrupted. 'I know many with that skill. It because when I see many that can help me, only you are not there. Cannot be found. You were like smoke, Christina," he said blowing cigar smoke into the air. "You were there, but could not be grasped. Then you were gone."

Watching the smoke blow away, Mr. Giovanni was quiet before continuing softly. "The person who help me must not be there! No powerful friends to know I do this. Person I need must be like smoke. There, then gone. I think you."

I won't bore you with details. I spent several days going over what he had about 'these men in New York City' and their business. He even supplied me with copies of police reports of the jobs I'd done in Germany and other countries. I thought it would be cool to see what the other side had on me. No idea how he got them and I didn't ask. I went back to him on the evening of the fifth day.

"I want us to be clear, Mr. Giovanni. You want me to break into a building that was built from the ground up not to be broken into. Get past two armed guards. Probably past so many security systems I can't even start to list them all. Break into a bank vault and steal every diamond I can carry away."

"Yes."

"Piece of cake!"

Chapter 14

Six Months Ago... Sicily

I suppose it surprises no one to find out that Gi and me started having sex. Two days after I arrived in Sicily I'd moved into his house. Gi was sexy as hell and I don't have sex while planning jobs because it's a distraction. I had a lot of built up need.

I usually went to Amsterdam and stayed a week or so with Giselle after my work in Europe was over. I'd heard about the Red Light District in Amsterdam, but it was even a shock to this girl what went on there. I made the acquaintance of Giselle while wandering through one of the best house in the district and she asked if I was looking for a job. Well, color me proud 'cause this House had very beautiful working girls.

I was actually just window shopping for whatever fun struck my fancy, but I thought, What the hell? Not like I hadn't been paid for sex before. Thirty minutes later I was working the Glory Hole room having a grand time and I was the one not paying for it.

Since then, on each subsequent visit I made to Giselle's I picked which part of her establishment I wanted to work. I needed to wait three days for a medical certificate to work but I didn't need one to enjoy myself for those three days. I just needed to pay for my enjoyment. After that it was my choice of working the Glory Hole, BD/SM Dungeon, Lesbian Lover's, or the Hashish Den where I'd get so stoned I couldn't remember what day it was. Some days I'd just hang out in the Waiting Room ready to take on any man or woman who picked me. Whatever... I could fuck my little ass off, not have to pay for it plus have a room in Amsterdam I didn't have to pay for.

Going to Sicily instead of Amsterdam after this series of jobs meant I had a lot of frustration to work out of my system. Gi was perfect to relieve that frustration. He was funny, passionate, certain of what he wanted from a woman, but also ready to follow my lead when I felt the urge to control the sex.

We both enjoyed each other every way a man and a woman can. Oral, vaginal and anal. Ladies, here's a tip I learned a few years back. Anal is not something you do on the spur of the moment. It takes preparation or else you just end up a shitty mess. Literally! What preparation? Do your own homework!

But, back to Gi and my quest to work off my sexual frustration. Gi was as adventuresome and as inventive a lover as he was handsome. His bed, different rooms of his house... every position, every place, every way a man and woman could pleasure each other. On days Gi had off from work he would drive me around Sicily and show me his country. From Mount Etna to Messina to Palermo we would drive and somewhere I'd find myself sucking his cock while we drove or he would finger me to orgasm while I drove.

Once, at a nightclub in the middle of a dance, Gi put me against a dark wall and fucked me standing up while other couples danced around us. I didn't care who saw us fuck, or me afterwards sucking his cock clean. I didn't know who they were and they didn't know who I was. For the first time I was actually falling for a guy.

Stupid right? Me thinking that about a guy. I really thought that maybe Gi might think about me as someone he could be serious about. Right up to the day he asked me to have a threesome with him and his friend. That's when I knew I was nothing but entertainment to Gi and not marriage material.

If Gi had asked me to go away with him to somewhere no one knew us and then asked me to participate in an old style Roman orgy, I would've been the first to say, Hell yea! No one would have known us. As far as Gi's family and friends would have known my honor would still be intact. But to share me with a friend...

See, no Sicilian would marry someone he'd shared with a friend. Just wasn't done. Women came in two ways. Women who had honor and could be married... Then there were women who were fun and could be fucked for fun. I was the latter as far as Gi was concerned. I could have said no and walked away, preserving my 'honor', but why? Gi saw me as a woman for fun. I did the threesome and for the last week I was in Sicily it was one friend or combination of friends and the women they used for fun. Not their wives, of course.

I did figure out what was 'wrong' with Gi. He was a sex junkie the same way some people are adrenaline junkies. What you would call normal sex quickly lost that orgasmic rush to Gi and he kept having to up the dose required to regain that rush. Instead of bungy jumping off bridges and hot air balloons, or rock climbing up vertical cliffs or driving fast cars that adrenaline junkies do to get that rush, Gi needed to find new and different places and ways to have sex. Sex in different places, public sex became sex in different combinations with other people joining in for orgies.

After sharing me with friends started to lose that rush for Gi? Participating with me as the center attraction in gangbangs and BD/SM would probably be somewhere next on his list. I was just sad he didn't have a normal fetish like wanting to lick my toes. I have such nice toes. I was really, really sad he didn't think enough about me to make trips to where we weren't known. Yea, really, really sad and then I was just pissed off at myself for actually falling for a guy and buying his line of bullshit. What an idiot I was!

I finally had enough and moved back in with Mr. Giovanni for a couple of days finalizing our deal. It was time to go back to work.

Five Months Ago... Amsterdam

For two weeks I stayed at Giselle's. Fucking and sucking any cock that passed. I wanted to get the stink of hypocrisy out of my system with some honest fucking. To think I'd actually fallen for a guy... I needed to remind myself that men just wanted me for one thing. Sex. Here at Giselle's at least it was honest sex. I was just a cum dump and no man pretended otherwise. Good, honest men who didn't try to make me believe they cared for me even one second past the time I'd swallowed.

For hours I would work the Glory Hole room. Sucking any cock that was pushed through a hole in the wall. Or lying on my back on a padded bench with my ass sticking out a hole in the wall. My legs suspended from slings. Any man who paid for a ticket could walk in off the street, stand on the other side of the wall and fuck me. They never saw my face and I never saw theirs. I was just a pussy they could dump their cum in and then leave.

That's sex that honest. None of that bullshit about love or caring.

After I'd fucked my mad off, I flew back to the States and contacted my partner. We had planning to do.

Chapter 15

Two Months Ago... New York City

Piece of cake!

Boy, how those words came back to haunt me as I stared out the window of the office space we'd rented. From here I had a clear line of sight down the alley behind the building I wanted to rob. One plan after another had been thought of and discarded. Go in and hide until after everyone had left. Come out and biff bang boom, knock out the guards with judo chops. Problem... My judo skills ranked right up there with my skill at knitting. Zilch.

Become a girlfriend to one of the guards and offer some during work sex. Hide until everyone was gone and then fuck the guards into unc0nsciousness. That played into my strengths but it would take too long.

Parachute onto the roof and... Do what? The roof was flat and could be seen from at least three apartment buildings taller than the target. I had to believe someone would see me scurrying around trying to find a way in. Besides, my parachuting skill ranked lower than my judo skill.

Tunnel in from the sewers... I actually considered that until I did a rough calculation of how many cubic yards of dirt I'd have to dispose of. I might be finished in time to celebrate my maybe 40th birthday. Besides, it was the sewers. YUCKY!

Plan after plan after plan and none reached the conclusion I needed. Me and about 300 pounds of bulky equipment safely in the building, the guards knocked out and no alarms going off.

I lit another cigarette and stared moodily out the window. Rambo had left hours before. He was getting antsy and so was I. Our supply of seed money was running low. Rent on two apartments, on this office, on the warehouse... The bills kept coming in and two months into our job I still didn't have a plan.

Stubbing out the butt I lit another cigarette and watched the garbage truck turn into the alley. I made a note of the time in the journal we kept of what happened around the building to find patterns we might exploit. Lift arms came down, truck moved forward to slide the arms into the side slots and then uuup goes the full dumpster and dooown goes the empty dumpster against the side of the building again. That's when my brain went CLICK!

That dumpster was against the side of the building I wanted into. It was enclosed so no one would see me and it was large enough to hold my equipment. Only one problem. See, the fire department keeps detailed diagrams of buildings they might be called to. A computer hack by Rambo had gotten us those plans so I knew that the ground floor walls of the building were built of poured concrete three feet thick. How to get through three feet of concrete without making enough noise to alert everyone in a one block radius? This sounded like a job for Rambo.

"Jesus, Sugar Tits! It 5am! Couldn't you have waited? I might have had company!"

"Yeah, right. Tell your right hand and the queer porn magazine I'm sorry for taking you away from them."

"Fuck you! You're just jealous I get more dick than you do, you uptight bitch."

That last insult was fair enough. We never socialized when off a case. He didn't know where I lived and I didn't know where he lived. Contact was through snail mail to post office boxes specifying a place and time to meet. Since I never mixed business with sex, Rambo was sure I wasn't getting any. Ever.

"Get your mind off cock long enough to answer a question. Is there an acid that will eat through concrete?" Silence. I waited.

Finally a long drawn out, "Yeees. It won't dissolve the silicates, but it will weaken the chemical bonds that hold concrete together. You're getting a plan aren't you?"

"Yes. Meet at the warehouse in the morning. We need more shit. A dumpster we can modify and some way to get it to the building through traffic without drawing attention. We need that acid and I need to build a concrete wall three feet thick to see how long it will take the acid to eat through it. Then we need..."

Hanging up I lit another cigarette and breathed a long stream of satisfied smoke into the air. I'd gotten to wake Rambo up, insult and piss him off but more importantly, a plan was born...

One Month 3 Weeks ago... A warehouse

"You're sure this will do the trick," I asked while practicing mixing the precise amounts of each solution into the dart.

"Positive. One hit in any fleshy body area and three to six seconds later it's lights out. The higher up on the body the better. And be sure to aim for fleshy parts. Don't bury the tip into bone. A neck shot is a bullseye."

"Okay. If you're sure," I said as I put the dart into the pellet gun and charged it with compressed CO2.

"I'm sure," Rambo replied rather testily that I'd question his ability.

I shrugged and shot him in the ass with the dart. "Now I'm sure," I told him when he woke up about 15 minutes later.

Five days Ago... New York City

"Hello. I'm with the company that empties your dumpster. I'm calling to inform you that we're going to change out yours so it can be cleaned and re-painted. We won't be able to switch out and place your new dumpster in exactly the same spot, but our driver will make sure it's relocated and out of the way by Monday afternoon."

"I'm sure that's no problem at all."

"Why thank you, and here's my phone number if it's a problem with anyone else. I hope you have a good day."

I hung up the burn phone, pounded it with a hammer and tossed it in the trash. Neither Rambo nor I ever carried a mobile phone while on a job. Anyone who thinks Google doesn't have apps on those damned things to track every step you take are idiots. I told Rambo, "We're go..." I stopped and ahemm'ed to clean that sugary, sweet voice out of my mouth and continued in my normal voice. "We're go for liftoff."