Dirty Shoplifter 2.

For the first time ever, school became a terrible place for me. It was impossible to concentrate on anything. Fortunately it was just two weeks to graduation and all important class work and tests were done. I made it to school each day and sat like a zombie waiting through one class period after another; with only one thing crashing into my brain about every ten minutes…the events at Mallmart. I got through everything required of me like a robot…senior pictures (Mine looked terrible. I looked so tired.)…final senior event planning…graduation practice….cap and gown. My nightmare went with me like a bad black shadow.
The only good thing in my life was that physically I had returned to normal.
Everything was different for me. I was so depressed. Nothing would ever be the same again. One event stands out so vividly in my memory and demonstrates how my world had changed.
About a week after the Mallmart event, right after school, the three amigos cornered me and wanted to go “on safari” to the mall. This was our custom. We had done this most every week all school term. It had always been just a fun, silly event for four very bored girls, but this time the possibility of going there hit me like a brick. I could hear my pulse; my tummy did a flip-flop, and an undeniable nausea passed up though my body. No way. I had my head back somewhat back under control, but I was not ready for anything at the mall. I was no longer the cute school girl, I was a slut, I had nothing to show off and beyond that, I knew I could not tolerate the whole idea of tease the boys. I was a haunted house filled with a wild array of sexual emotions and regrets.
They insisted. I said no. They went on and on. Today, I had the only transportation. They begged and promised to buy me a soda. I gave in. I decided I could do it. Step by step I had to get the Mallmart thing behind me. I had to take control. The mall and Mallmart were not together. I would suck it up and just go to the mall and nothing more. I finally agreed.
I drove the four of us to the mall right after school. I was wearing the big pants and a top. I looked ok, but I sure was not a tease for boys. The car was filled with the usual titter but I was nervously silent. I parked as close as I could to the entry door. I was so paranoid about running into anyone who might have seen me at Mallmart.
As I walked along I concluded that in fact teasing the boys was over for me forever. What a silly, juvenile game. I was a mature, well fucked lady. I now knew the reality of these black boys. That black security guard had showed me what it was all really about. I had no desire to tease with any more.
Right before the entry, three tall black guys passed us. A shudder went through me. I had lost it all under a big black guy. What a strange uncontrolled spasm passed up through my lower body.
Right from the very beginning it was not a good trip. Just the smell of the mall made me sick. In comparison to what I normally wore, my outfit was dumpy and I was actually thankful that it was. I did not want even a side glance from a boy and I didn’t get one. I wanted only to hide and let the time pass.
There was nothing that interested me. I simply walked along and worked to keep my head under control.
I was a different person—a sad, depressed young woman trying to understand a completely new role in life. I could tell my friends were disappointed. I was normally in the middle of everything, involved in the chatter, and advocating the fun, but now I hung back by myself trying to avoid any exposure. Several times Cindy asked if I was ok.
Finally, I told her quietly I was having lady challenges. I think she assumed something had gone wrong with Kyle and me. It was all I could think of to say and it seemed to explain to her why I was acting differently. That was all that mattered. As far as I was concerned, I convinced myself this had been way too soon to come back here. Maybe in time I would feel comfortable in similar circumstances again, but it would take a lot more time.
Looking back, this trip to the mall was the first recognition of big changes in my life. It was the first time I realized things would never be the same. I was a different person; I was no longer the young carefree innocent virgin. I was a very shameful, immoral woman. My concept of myself had changed more than I can describe and there was no way back to anything I had before.
I thought I had a firm grasp on things and could get back to normal, but that just was not the case. My new “normal” had to be recognized. The terrible guilt I carried completely ruined my self-image. Only the lowest form of life would do what I did. Only a slut would get caught shoplifting and pay it off by whoring a guard.
With each step down the corridor at the mall, I became more horribly depressed. I was a completely different person.
I drove them home and headed home myself as soon as possible.
Looking back, the early return to the mall was a pivotal indicator for me. Things would never be the same. My life had changed completely.
After that trip to the mall my amigos soon began to drift away from me. It was not that they came out and said anything or did anything differently. It was just that the bond that held us together was gone. I could no longer be the cute high school senior in the short skirt, flirting with boys in the mall. I had heavy stuff to deal with and I could not keep it hidden very well. The very thought of flirting with a young guy was repulsive. That portion of my brain was fully occupied by a new wild guilt and associated weird sexual feelings I did not understand—a new sexual consciousness that really scared me. They were still young girls having fun…Mallmart shoplifting had converted me to a mature woman with serious sexual concerns.
Soon they found other transportation. After school they were still going to the mall, but I would refuse to go if invited and just drive home and spend time in my room fretting. I cannot tell you how many times I came home went directly up to my room, sat at the desk and blankly stared at my school calendar.
My relationship with Kyle slipped away quickly as well. I could not tell him a thing, of course. He knew there was something heavy in my life, but I could not come up with any explanation that made sense. I was no longer what he thought I was. I was now a slut, a tramp. I knew it and I could not hide my feelings very well. I struggled to act normal and do normal things, but it was a failure.
Kyle and I attended the prom exactly two weeks after Mallmart. I will summarize the entire evening in one word…bad. I just could not be a good prom date. I was sealed up in my own little world of worry and fear. I felt very distant from him and by then, enough time had passed, that he had picked up on my darkness and started to reflect my feelings. It was just assumed for a long time we were going and there was no way to back out. So we went.
Making matters worse the prom was two weeks following Mallmart and nothing was happening, period wise, for me. Every waking moment I worried. Time after time, I found myself trying to figure out how vulnerable I was that day at Mallmart. I tried every way I could think of to pin down days on the calendar, but the only thing that became clear was I had not been paying enough attention in health class. Calculating things was impossible and the harder I tried the more nervous it made me.
My days were filled with worry; my nights were filled with terror.
The only bright spot was physically I felt fine. I was so aware of everything to do with my body; and while my head was a wreck, my body felt great and looked great from head to toe. Absolutely all physical aftermath from my day at Mallmart was gone.
Kyle picked me up at six. My dress was beautiful virgin white. He wore white accessories. He took me to dinner at the country club…very nice. We went to the dance at the school. He wanted to leave early. We went to a hotel room he and his soccer buddies had gotten. They drank…I don’t. They smoked a little…I don’t. Kyle tried numerous times to take me to the dark room…I didn’t go even though the crazy thought did crossed my mind to have sex with him. I would then have someone legitimate to blame if things went wrong.
That idea almost made me choke; how dumb; having sex with Kyle would help nothing. He was white, my school was white; my whole community was white and I had been screwed by the biggest, blackest man you have ever seen.
Kyle took me home around two in the morning. There is nothing more to say about Prom night. It was a complete washout for me and I know it was worse for him. His face said everything as he gave me a peck on the cheek at the front door, turned, and headed home.
After he was gone I sat on the couch in the living room, reflecting. It is sad to say, I was so preoccupied with my shoplifting problems, I didn’t think about Kyle or prom for another minute. The door went shut behind him and my head went back to being a full time garbage dump of terror and complicated sexual confusions.
My schedule at school was filled with end of year activities and preparing for graduation. It all kept me very busy and the days slipped by quickly.
All the physical indications of my fateful day at Mallmart had been gone for a couple weeks. Nothing unusual down below and my breasts were back to normal. I worked constantly to move the Mallmart shoplifting events into history and find a way to have a good time.
Graduation was two weeks after the prom. Ironically it was exactly one month to the day after Mallmart. I had a few nightmares the night before, but I woke up graduation morning convicted to being the best I could be. This was such an important day for me and also my parents. In fact, this was every bit as big an event for them as it was for me. Mother and day had talked endlessly about every facet of the day.
Mother had bought a new bright summer dress to be worn under my gown. I had not tried it on since the day she purchased it; and that was before Mallmart shoplifting. Now as I dressed it seemed way too colorful, way too cute, and way too short. Why would my mother have purchase this sensational outfit for me to wear today? I turned in front of my mirror and my tummy churned. What kind of a mess was I?
I was looking at a young extremely attractive blond, blue eyed, high school girl; about to go to graduation dressed like a darling…and looking back from the mirror was a tramp; a shoplifting felon possibly pregnant by a big black security guard.
Life would never be the same. I hated myself. I struggled over to my study desk and sat down. I had to get myself in order. I had to find a positive way to get through this day for my parents sake. I stared at the damn calendar for a full ten minutes. Then I went to work trying to put my most positive spin on everything. I concluded enough time had passed I should have my period soon and the last of my worries would be gone. I would just be a shoplifting tramp who got away with it.
I was going to make this a good day. I twisted everything around in my mind. I looked for everything positive I could find. Physically everything seemed back to normal. I would have my period soon. The self loathing would pass. Mallmart shoplifting would go down as just a big mistake and we all make mistakes, right? I went down the steps to join my parents in my most positive frame of mind. Their endless stream of compliments supported my good mood.
We had a nice graduation ceremony, outside; weather was good. I was very proud of my achievements. During the ceremony I received three awards and was acknowledged as the fifth student in the class academically. I had loved high school. It had been a wonderful, free, happy time with practically no responsibility outside of getting good grades; and I found that very easy to do. I was really going to miss the whole experience.
Most importantly, this was a grand day for my parents. They had invited several close friends to attend the ceremony with them. I was the center of attention. I could see their pride in every move they made and everything they said.
It was a thrilling day for me, except in idle moments I thought about the fact I had graduated in more ways than one. My parents and their friends treated me so special. In their eyes I was the cute, perfect girl. What would they think if they knew? I was going to miss being a cute, innocent, virgin.
All the activity of graduation day, along with work on my part, gave me some reprieve from my concerns and worries most of the time, but not completely. The ceremony required a lot of waiting, sitting among my fellow seniors clad in a long white gown. During these idle moments, time after time, I was overcome with unexplained overwhelming erotic sexual desire. It was all in my head, there was no one specifically the target. I had never felt like this in the daytime. I found a way to draw my right hand inside the gown and move it to my inner thigh.
I was dizzy when I finally took the long walk up to the principal for my diploma. I was the most silent, most horny, girl to ever graduate from Monroe High.
Following graduation, my parents had a party in our back yard for me. Our back yard was a great place for something like this. My dad spared no expense; he had the complete event including the decorations catered.
Mother had bought me another dress special for this party. It was light yellow, sleeveless, with a full, rather short, skirt. Once again, I spent a lot of time in my room and bathroom getting ready. When she bought it, I loved the way I looked in it, but now it was just more confusion. Strange erotic, scary, responses caused me to shudder as I looked at my image in the mirror. It seemed like so much had changed for me and now even what I wore was complicated. I knew the guys would appreciate this dress, but should someone as slutty as I wear something so tantalizing. Finally I gave up.
It is amazing how looking good always makes me feel good and, wow; I needed to feel good at this party. My parents had invited five couples from the country club and two from dad’s work. I had twelve relatives that came; aunts, uncles and a couple younger cousins. The three amigos came with their parents. Kyle and his family were there; and there were about eight other classmates. It was to be a fun time.
I moved around mostly at my parent’s direction and played the role of the happy graduate. It was fun. I felt so good. I was busy. The shoplifting events completely faded from thought for a while.
My relatives had all brought gifts, most often money; and I had a wonderful time acknowledging each of them.
During these acknowledgements, one very “friendly” uncle, my Uncle Fred, hugged me tightly. Fred is my dad’s brother and my favorite uncle, I expected his affection; particularly with me wearing this dress. I loved this guy and always enjoyed his hugs, but this time an unusual twinge went through my breasts as he held me. I remember it well. It scared me. I had never felt anything quite like it. It was not a pain; more like tightness that caused me to shudder.
He noticed my reaction and hugged me again, even more firmly, and this hug confirmed the sensation. My breasts were definitely different, fuller; definitely more sensitive.
It brought me out of the party mood for a moment. I had never felt anything like this and I had been hugged tightly by this uncle before. Was this an early sign of pregnancy? I was a felon shoplifter. I was a tramp. Panic!
I struggled to get my head back to the event in a hurry.
This was a grand party. I wanted nothing to spoil it. I wrote the strange feelings off as the very last reminder of the Mallmart damages. That security supervisor had been rough when he had me pinned to the desk. I simply concluded he had damaged them more than I originally thought. Or maybe this was the first indication of my period starting. I sure hoped that was it. This party was fun and I wanted to keep it that way.
The graduation day festivities ended around ten in the evening and I excused myself to mom and dad and went directly to my bedroom. I was exhausted and my tummy was a little nauseous from all the party food.

REAL FEAR

After the hugging events with Uncle Fred at the graduation party I found it once again harder and harder to get the shoplifting thing out of my mind.
Regardless of what I did and no matter how normal everything seemed with my body; night times were bad…an endless nightmare. As soon as the lights went out my mind jumped back to Mallmart, moved through the events in the supervisor’s office, and then move through the weeks until the hugs from Uncle Fred. Once again, I counted days endlessly. I struggled time after time to remember when I last had a period. I reviewed every inch of my body endlessly. I tried to find comfort in the fact that I felt good physically. I drove myself mad worrying about everything else. What could have caused the strange sensations in my breasts?
For a few days I had almost convinced myself it was all behind me, but now, after the party, my worries returned, big time, and they grew more troublesome with each day.
I tried to stay as busy as I could, doing anything that might take my mind off of the horrible possibility, but there was little I could find that was active and interesting to do that.
About the second week following the graduation party I began to find more reasons for my terrors. Those hugs at the graduation party were the first time my breasts did not feel right, but now I could get that same strange sensation by just holding them firmly. My breasts seemed larger, fuller, and my nipples were tender. My bras did not seem to fit right.
My mental state just got worse and worse. I had too much real evidence with my breasts and the evidence kept growing with each passing day. This was more than just my guilty mind working overtime. Something was really wrong and I knew what it was. Terror was beyond my control most of the time now.
Finally, one evening I spent a full hour at my desk going back over everything; my school calendar, the one on my desk at home, a new health book I had found at the library and all my laptop. I was looking for anything that might give me comfort. Anything that might tell me things were ok and would turn out normal.
When I finished, my summary reaction can be described in a few words. I was as terrorized as any girl could possibly be. This was no nightmare, no bad dream, it was reality. It had been almost two months since Mallmart and I was late, really late and my body was beginning to change just as the health book and several sites on the laptop said it would. I was pregnant by a big, black guy who was nothing more to me than a very scary stranger.
Why had I been going back over all the dates and what happened that day? It didn’t matter when my last period had occurred; it did not matter if he had sexed me once or twice. I was pregnant.
In that moment, sitting at the desk in my bedroom, everything changed from self loathing, to fear, to absolute terror. All along, right up to that moment, in the back of my mind, I had been holding such hope, but in that one moment it all went to panic. I was pregnant by that very big, very black, nameless security supervisor at Mallmart. I was not just a shoplifting slut; I was a pregnant shoplifting slut. I was the lowest form of life.
From that point on, every moment was consumed with endless agony. There were not even moments of escape.
Days passed as I struggled. I struggled to sleep. I struggled to get up. I struggled to get dressed. I struggled to get along with the normal tasks during the day. I struggled to stay “normal” with my family; and I struggled to deal with the endless hours of sheer terror.
My fear was constant. What could I do? Where could I go? I had no one to talk to. Just think about it. Who among my family or friends could I discuss my fears with…I got caught shoplifting at Mallmart…I had sex with an older black security guy so he would not call the police…I am pregnant and I don’t even know his name.
I lived in the whitest community, attended the whitest school, had the whitest friends, and the very whitest parents; I was doomed. Days passed as I tried endlessly to think of any alternative, any solution, anywhere to go. There were none.
Each day would begin, and end, with terror. I would move from one horrible thought to another. Every nasty titter we amigos had exchanged regarding the overweight white women with black babies came thundering through my tortured mind. Now, I was one. All the degrading titters we amigos had about the black guys. Now, I was pregnant by one and he was enormous. In my mind he grew bigger every day. It was an endless stream of the most horrible thoughts.
I struggled through one day after another as three more, long frightening weeks passed. I lived with constant terror and went about my required activities like a zombie. It had over sixty days, two months and each day it became more evident something was very wrong.
Standing in front of the mirror drove me to tears. My breasts were steadily becoming larger and larger and more and more tender. My nipples were much larger, darker, and so sensitive.
To make matters even worse, for the last three weeks, each morning when I got up I felt nauseous for a while. It had nothing to do with what I ate or what I did. It came on as I got out of bed in the morning and stayed with me for about an hour. Then I it went away.
On top of all this I was beginning to think I was losing my mind. I was so emotional. I could cry at any moment. Everything scared me. This terror was driving me nuts. I was overcome by anxiety, sadness, fear, and self loathing. I struggled to keep a hold on my mind.
Along with everything else, I was possessed by demon emotions I could not explain. Wild elusion would overcome me. How, in the midst of all this, would I be possessed by erotic desires like I had never known?
It could happen any time, but particularly at night in bed I could be driven out of my mind by strange, wild, sexual fantasies. The most common fantasy was one in which I would be a disassociated, third party observing what happened to me that day at the Mallmart. I would be lost in an erotic world where some other cute girl was caught shoplifting and required to do what I did.
When these fantasies occurred they would provide intermission to my terror. They would temporarily crowd out my worries and provide moments of relief. Much as I hate to admit it, most of these reveries would end with a climax as I envisioned this other girl pregnant by an enormous black guard.
When I was finished, I felt so guilty, I felt so ashamed, but this was my only relief and it would finally enable me to get some sleep.
In the morning I would wake to the daily terror that just continued to grow. It got harder and harder for me to function in any capacity. During the summer I was to help at a charity. I worked the phone bank most of the time and previous summers I had been good at it. I had a line of patter and a good phone voice they told me, but now I was terrible. It did not keep me busy enough. It gave me too much time to think; too much time to watch my body changing day after day.
I would miss call after call as I sat there looking down at my white body now fully occupied with the results of that big black guard’s black sperm. The picture of a pregnant womb I had seen repeatedly in health class was now mine and it was always on my mind and it drove me nuts. I could see inside my body. I could watch it growing and changing.
I would open my lap top and immediately find terrible visual images; and now I could feel them going on inside me.
I would have nightmares envisioning all the many overweight white women we had laughed at while on safari at the mall. I would sit at my desk between phone calls look down and think I could watch my tummy grow with his big black baby.

MALLMART REVISITED

A little more than two months had gone past since the events at Mallmart and my terror had grown to the point I absolutely had to do something, anything. My desperation was boundless.
I spent hours trying to think of someone, anyone, I could talk with. I desperately needed help.
Over and over I thought about every conceivable possibility, but absolutely, the only person I could come up with was the most terrifying person in the world, the senior security guard at Mallmart. There was no one else. He was the only possibility.
I worried all the next weekend, so much so that I got sick time after time. I meticulously went through family, friends, teachers, councilors—every possibility, but think about it; who in the world could I lay this on except the terrifying guy that did it to me.
By Monday morning near panic had driven me to desperation. I made my decision. I would go back to the Mallmart house of horrors and seek him out. I dressed as conservatively as possible, an older summer dress and light sweater.
I bit my lip hard, and drove the five miles back to the Mallmart. Each mile my tension increased. This was so humiliating. I had not been near Mallmart since the day I shoplifted and got screwed. Now I was forced to come back. All the security guys knew what I had done and they would really be quite entertained by my returning today. It was so obvious I was pregnant.
As I walked toward the entry ways I could see two black guys in the blue security shirts standing just inside the entry doors. My knees were weak. I walked stiffly, forcing each step I took. I wrapped my sweater around me and looked down to assure my dowdy dress was ok. It was. I had not put on the belt, so it disguised my shape better. It looked down right baggy.
As I approached it became apparent neither of them recognized me. I walked right past the security office, through the entry doors, past the two of them, and on into the store, without getting as much as a glance. Neither of them looked at me.
That is what happens when you dress like a frump. This was not good. I was not here to shop I was here to beg for help. I force myself to turn around and head back toward the guards at the entry.
As I turned toward them, one started walking directly toward me. It was obvious from his smile he now remembered me.
“Can I help you?”
His smile had turned into a smirk.
“Yes, please. I would like to speak with your supervisor.”
He said nothing, just held the same expression as he looked up and down my body and motioned for me to follow as he turned and headed out the entry door. Outside he pointed out a bench right outside the security office. He rejoined the other guard just inside the door, and I was certain from their reactions both of the security guys remembered me now.
I sat there pulling my dress down over my knees, closing my sweater tighter, and trying not to make eye contact as they would come in and out among the customers. Each time they passed they would give me this big grin. Nothing could be more embarrassing.
A big shadow came over me. The big black supervisor was standing right in front of me. I was in such a daze I had not seen him walking up. I glanced up. He was even bigger and blacker than I remembered. I could not look at his face.
He spoke with control,
“Hello. My guard told me you want to see me?”
“Yes, please.”
I mumbled without looking up.
“Come in here.”
He turned unlocked the door and I followed him into the security office. He shut the door, bolted it and pointed to the chair where I had sat over two months ago. I elected to stand. He went over to stand at the desk. He was so formal. He had not even acknowledged he knew me.
I could say nothing for a moment. I just stood there looking at the wall behind him.
He finally felt uneasy enough to say something,
“It’s Caroline, right?”
I nodded.
“I thought I would never see you again.”
He said stiffly.
I could tell he was very nervous. No smile. He just stood there as far away as the little office permitted.
He said nothing more. We both seemed to just look past one another.
Finally, I summoned all my courage and looked straight at him,
“I’m pregnant!”
I felt uncontrolled tears flow down my face. I swiped at them with the back of my hand.
He took a step toward me. His face grimaced,
“No shit; what makes you think that? Have you taken the test?”
“I know so.”
“Have, you been to the doctor?”
“No, but I know.
It has been over two months. I have not had my period. I have been nauseous and my breasts are bigger and very tender. I am pregnant.”
His expression went absolutely blank. He turned and took a step toward the door reaching for the doorknob. Was he was just going to open it and tell me to get out? I could tell he was panicked. He froze for a long time before he turned back to me. He said nothing. He looked like a caged animal. He turned back toward the door again, reached for the handle again, and then hesitated and turned back slowly.
Anger filled his face,
“So you think you’re pregnant. Well if you are; all I can say is that’s what you get for being stupid. You were the dumbass that shoplifted, not me. I hate to say that you got what you had coming. That was a major felony and you got off. You were the dumb one that stole the shit, not me. You got off without even a rap on the knuckles?”
He was just rattling wildly, talking so bluntly scaring me badly.
I just stood and looked at him. I was shaking dreadfully.
He turned toward the door and once again I sensed he was going to open it and tell me to get the hell out.
“Lady that was felony shoplifting, remember? You were the little tramp that took the shit. You got off without a blemish on your record…no cops, no court, no lawyers, and no jail. I think you got off light.”
I had actually started to cry. Through my sobs I said,
“Sir, please stop scolding me. I know all that. I need help. I am completely alone in this. I have no one to help me unless you do. Can’t you see?”
He stopped and stood a long time with his back toward me. Finally, he slowly turned. His expression had changed completely. My plea had really stuck home.
For the first time I saw concern in his face. The anger had drained completely and been replaced by a much kinder expression. He spoke softly,
“Yea, I understand. When we caught you, I thought you were just another of those wild ass girls that do that stuff for thrills, but now I know you’re not. I can see where you sure need help now, but what the fuck can I do?”
He looked at me and collapsed in the chair at the desk. I could see sweat on his forehead. He just sat looking at me saying nothing. We had reached a complete impasse.
I had not threatened him. I did not need to, and besides, I just knew a threat would not help with this guy. He was way too proud.
He had not accused me of doing anything with someone else. He knew me too well by now. He knew I was a virgin when he took me, and how important the whole sex thing was to me.
Finally, it just seemed like I had to say something. What really did I expect him do?
Slowly I reviewed my plight. The summary was more for me than him,
“Sir, I really need someone to help me. I am pregnant. I have to solve this somehow. Think about how horrible this is for me. I have no one else to turn to.”
He sat expressionless looking through me to the wall. He would not even focus on me; not a word. Was he scared, was he angry?
He probably wasn’t worried about me; more likely he was worried about himself. If my plight became known to his management, he would get fired for sure. If I had the baby he could be held legally liable for support. He had to recognize now that this pregnancy could affect his life as well as mine.
He seemed to be in deep thought for a long time. Finally he reached across the desk, picked up the phone and made an extended call: then another, then a third. I could hear little of what he was saying, but by his expression I judged he was making progress with something. It was the first encouragement I had had in weeks.
It had been at least twenty minutes when he finished his last call and sort of smiled. I could see relief on his face.
He looked up still holding the idle phone,
“Caroline, I think help is on the way.”
“One of my guards always seems to have an answer. He knows a guy in the stock room who in turn knows a guy who can deal with things like this. I wanted to get all the middle men out of it so I asked for the outsider’s number and called him directly. It’s going to take a few minutes but he is coming over here to meet you and talk.”
For a few minutes he went on with a few more sketchy details. He had pulled in some “markers” is how he described it. I was going to meet a guy named Bobby, who would be here in about thirty minutes. Bobby had connections with a Doctor who handled this kind of stuff. The Doctor could provide whatever I needed. The whole thing was safe but it would be expensive.
He paused. I hesitated,
“I have some money, but I could not come up with a lot without someone at home knowing.”
I offered, not knowing anything else to say.
We sat looking at one another. His expressions had softened to the point of almost “friendly”.
He spoke much more softly,
“Well let’s not worry about money right now. We can work that out I am sure.”
I could tell he was very pleased he had come up with something that might help me.
He went over to sit in the chair behind the desk. I went over to sit on the straight plastic chair by the wall. We both seemed to just stare off into space. Everything went quiet. Time slowed to a creep. This was going to be a long thirty minutes for sure.
Neither of us said a thing. He looked at the far corner of the room: I looked down at my lap.
As time passed my crazy mind started to go into overtime.
This strange fortitude came over me, an artificial bravery; it grew strong and stronger as I sat thinking about all that was going on. Envisioning I could see light at the end of the tunnel somehow emboldened me.
So this room was the torture chamber that had entered my nightmares every night all summer. It was really just small, blue, and plain. Almost like a jail cell. What a terrible place to work day after day for your entire life.
So this was the big black monster that was at the center of my every nightmare. He did not look at all scary any more. He looked worried and concerned. Sure he was big and black and bald, but not so scary any more.
In a strange way he had been a victim that day as much as me. He was the victim of my short skirt. I was wearing the wrong thing. He never would have done what he did if I had been dressed otherwise. He lost control and put his freedom and his precious job in jeopardy. Had I not been wearing that skirt, he probably would have simply called the police.
I was the felon. My shoplifting had caused everything, but what he did was very unethical and illegal. We were both so guilty, we both contributed to this mess, but only one of us was pregnant.
I looked down at my lap. He for sure would not have done it if I had looked the way I did now. This dress, unbelted, not only covered my tummy, but it really made me look like a frump. It hung loose on me everywhere. I looked like one of those fat pregnant ladies we amigos kidded about—all I needed was a shopping cart to push…and a black baby to tow.

SOLUTION

Everything went absolutely quiet. I sat very straight with my legs crossed and my skirt pulled down over them as far as possible.
Not a word, nor a glance, was exchanged between us. Time slowed to a creep. It seemed like we were going to wait forever. Our exchange had been so emotional I felt exhausted, but this quiet was almost unbearable. I needed something to be happening.
For unknown reasons, my mind wandered from the day of terror to those erotic fantasies I had been having every night in bed. This was the place where it started—over there sat the monster that started it. Neither looked all that scary any more.
I was deep in thought. I absently looked down, placed my hand on my thigh, and moved my skirt up just an inch or so. It was the first move I had made. I did it without thinking. I never worn skirts this long. I am just not used to looking frumpy.
A strange feeling shot through me. It was like an “oh, oh”. What did I do?
I glanced over at him and for the first time he was looking directly at me. His face was awash in emotion. Immediately, I realized my movement had been read as suggestive.
He slowly looked up and down my body. I had never seen anything like it. The expression on his face said it all. For the first time, right in that instant, I completely understood why he did what he did to me. He had intended just to humiliate me terribly. He intended to treat me like a little child. I don’t think he ever intended to even swat my butt. He just wanted me to be scared, very scared and then he was going to send me on my way. But…
Unfortunately, the way I looked that day took him over the top. He lost it. All those many times I had dressed to flirt, and torture the boys at the mall, caught up with me that day in this office. I had dressed to tease the boys one too many times. Now he hated himself for what he did.
But now just looking across the room at him I could tell I had stirred up the same animalistic passion that took control of him that day.
What power I had over this man. I watched a strange emotion fill his eyes. It was almost a loving expression.
“Caroline you will never understand how I regret all this. What I did was so wrong. I have spent endless hours worrying about you and wishing like hell it had never happened. What I did was horribly unprofessional and I have beaten myself up ever since. I feel terrible.
I understand your plight very well. This is terrible and all the racial issues make it even worse. I can see why I am the only guy you thought you could turn to. What a mess.
I don’t know this Bobby, but the guys in the back assure me he will solve this. I am relieved. I am confident we can work this all out.”
I looked at him.
Dear reader as I did, the strangest thoughts came over me.
Numerous emotions;
…euphoria that I finally had support
…the possibility I now had a solution.
…a completely different understanding of this little room where it all started
…a new understanding of the how it all happened and the shared guilt
…an overwhelming curiosity about my reactions to what he did to me.
I had to admit, what happened that day in this office caused erotic responses within me that I did not understand; responses that scared me terribly. I tried to deny them, but they came into my head every night in bed and often in an idle moment during the day.
And now, I had been idle too long. Those sensual desires were overtaking me just sitting here looking at the man that did it to me. I could not believe what was going on inside me. I should hate him, nothing less.
The tension in the room was unbearable. The door was bolted, the cameras were off and we just sat not saying a word. I looked like an old lady in this outfit and yet there was no question, every time I moved, his eyes moved with me. Eyes filled with undeniable desire. For the first time in my life a man “knew” me emotionally and sexually. He knew my body and he knew my inner reactions that day. He so obviously was caught up in this complicated relationship as much as me.
As is sat there I began to wonder; what had he been fanaticizing about at night in his bed while I had been tossing and turning with thoughts of him? Each time I glanced at him I came away with the same message…ME!
What power I now had over this big man. That day he had been in charge but now I was in the driver’s seat.
As the clock ticked slowly, this erotic feeling consumed me. That day it had been the ultimate terror of my life, but now I had a completely new understanding of the events, the man, and the terror. I needed to revisit those events with this new clarity.
In a strange way this black man had been the ultimate “young boy in the mall” that day he took me. What was Caroline really looking for all those many times she had dressed seductively to parade at the mall? A strange thrill; she got a thrill from teasing the boys…the thrill of control, as she used her young sexuality to take charge of them. Let’s admit it; it was a thrill to tease those guys until they wanted to cry, all the time just dangling bait. It was a cheap thrill that came at their expense.
What was less obvious was that with each of the many trips to the mall, the desire for thrills grew, but the foolish “parade” with the amigos did less to satisfy what had become a craving. A unrequited addiction to “thrill”.
Caroline had really shoplifted for only one reason, more thrills. She had unconsciously gone after the thrill of stealing…doing the unlikely, doing the unthinkable.
Along with everything else that happened during the afternoon of terror that resulted, this man had turned that addiction for “thrill” into unmitigated uncontrollable lust.
I turned in my chair to look more directly at him. His expression responded immediately. Everything welled up in me. This long idle period, sitting, waiting, had been too much. I shook with nervous energy.
I got up as if driven by some controlling force and walked over to reach for his hand. He sat frozen.
His hand was wet with perspiration and shaking. As he stood, I could see an enormous bulge in his uniform pants. All my intuition was correct. Frumpy or not this man…
“Oh!”
That was all I got to say as he hugged me to him, turned me around and put me over the desk. He positioned me just as I had been two months ago, lifted my skirt over my back, and slid my panties to the floor. I was in exactly the same place and the same position as before, but this time there was no protest. My legs parted. I felt the same pressure as before, but this time he entered without pain. I lay on my tummy, my chin on the surface and he simply worked his way firmly into me. I was overcome with a string of wild sensations way down deep within my body as he took me. These feeling caused me to move backward to receive him. This created even more erotic responses.
He reached under me and took my breasts in both hands as before.
His lips came down to kiss my neck below my right ear,
“Girl, you will never know the conflict you have created…how many nights I have tossed and turned with the vision of you in this position driving me wild.”
With that he went silent and gently began to move within me. Moments later, he came delivered just like before. He sent surge after surge deep into me; but this time I met each with a reaction deep inside and a loving murmur that confirmed all those night time fantasies were real.
I was overcome with the sexual need, a lust that was born that frightening day right here beneath him. A desire I had tried so hard to hide ever since. It was a lust that was so real and yet so denied. I now understood it and my movements assured he now understood it as well.
Finished, he stood up and lifted me into an upright position with my back against him. My skirt fell back into place. I was shaking from head to foot. He had finished.
I came back to my senses. So much had been explained. My need for thrills had been fully answered. I quickly became the “good girl” again. During the strange circumstance with this man that day had I had found two things…internal lust which answered my need for thrills. I was not a promiscuous tramp in any way. I was a young woman with needs that had been answered.
My panties were still on the floor.
He kicked them over toward the waste basket and wrapped his arms around me. His lips found the back of my head,
“Caroline, I…”
There was a knock at the door.
Leaving me standing there, leaning backward against the desk in shock, he walked over to the door opened it and a tall black guy walked in. Clearly he had been outside the door waiting.
I sat back on the edge of the desk to recover. I reached down on either side of me and gripped the desk top for support. I could feel spasms throughout my lower body and moisture.
My panties were over in the corner on the floor still in plain sight.
The guard closed the door for a moment and shook hands with the stranger,
“You must be Bobby, glad you’re here. This is Caroline.”
He sort of pointed at me across the room without looking.
“She needs to talk with you.”
He turned to face me for a moment,
“Here is the fellow they tell me has the answers for you. I’ll leave you two to talk.”
He gazed at me across the room with a very distant look. His face was filled with emotion; like he wanted to stay and be of help, but there was no role for him here.
“I’ll work out details with him after you two are done discussing things.”
With a strange backward glance he walked out.
PAYMENT BEGINS

As soon as the guard was gone, Bobby locked the door and turned toward me. Without a word he came across the room toward the desk. When he got to me he took my hands up from the desk on either side and stood directly in front of me looking into my eyes with a most salacious grin. He reached down, moved my knees apart, and moved between them to get as close to me as he could. I was shaking. He had not said a word, but I knew what was up. There was no question he knew what had been going on in here. He had been right outside the door.
He stood there, grinning, looking down without a word. Finally, I just blurted out,
“No please. I cannot do this! I am not this type of girl! That was all just a mistake.”
He backed up a little and stood there for a moment, looking down at me with an even bigger smile,
“Sweetheart, you may not want me to think you are this “type” of girl, but from what I heard in here you sure are. I think you are the “type” girl that just got fucked in here real good—and you are the “type” that’s been fucked before and got all knocked up—and you are the “type” that wants me to help, right?”
He looked at me, waiting for a reply,
“Right?” he repeated.
I nodded, yes.
“Sweetheart, just to get things started the way I want, I like to hear your voice when I ask a question, understand?
You do want my help with this, right?”
Such humiliation,
“Yes.”
I whispered.
He stepped back further, holding my hands higher and looked up and down my body,
“Wow, you are some kind of cute. You’re just the “type” I like. Somebody did you real good, honey. They got you blooming sweetly.
They told me in the back, you got caught shoplifting and agreed to fuck your way out of it, rather than go to jail; right?”
I nodded yes again.
“What was that?”
He asked,
“Yes”
I whispered even more softly.
His grinned, still holding my hand high as his eyes never left me,
“Well, you sure won that one. You’re not in jail and you’re looking good, looking real good.
I guess that boss guy must be the nigger that mounted you. He seems to be in charge. He tells me you would be in big trouble at home if they knew about this and he wants me to get things worked out for you. I agreed to get you through all this as long as you do a few things along the way to help out. Understood?”
I nodded,
“Yes.”
“So if that’s the way it is, those things start right now. If he and I are going to share this problem, we are going to share everything and everything includes you. Understand?”
I went quiet. There was nothing to say, nothing I could do.
I nodded.
He moved toward me and I went over backward onto the desk. He lifted the front of my skirt. I knew my bare sex was completely displayed. He looked down at me on the edge of the desk spread helpless in front of him and stepped forward to separate my legs.
He just stood there between my thighs, smiling, looking at me for what seemed like forever. My body was responding out of control. I could feel moisture everywhere, eyes, breasts, and my thighs.
“That is one gorgeous snatch lover. That bastard was one lucky nigger. He sure nailed a pretty one. Was he your first nigger?
I looked at him and whispered,
“Yes” He was my first.”
He looked down in my face and smiled broadly,
“Well lover, I don’t know if I believe that, but it don’t matter, I guarantee you, he aint going to be your last; right?”
I looked up and nodded.
He went silent.
Slowly, he reached down, spread my legs very wide, and left me in that position as he stepped back to open his pants. All the time, his gaze moved constantly up and down, from my lower body up to my eyes.
Unlike before, this time I could see everything. I was on my back on the desk propped up a bit on my elbows. He was enormous, black, and long; with a red bulbous end. I watched as it approached my white completely exposed body and disappeared into my very wet vagina. There was no pain; in fact I could feel its warmth as it moved smoothly, but firmly, deep inside me. It felt like silk.
I responded with an involuntary shudder and he came down to consume my mouth. His weight took me backward down onto the desk and my arms spread outward.
His rhythm started right away. He was surprisingly gentle. He just leaned over me. Both his feet and mine were still on the floor. I was on my back on the desk which brought my pelvis firmly up against him. His hands move up around my head and into my hair. He pressed downward moving me toward him to the very edge of the desk. He stroked into me with long, deep, gentle strokes. Time seemed to be lost.
He stroked deeper and deeper but so gently. I cannot tell you how long he sexed me.
I remember at some point he started to reach very sensitive places deep inside me and an uncontrolled moan escaped my lips.
He lifted and grinned down at me with a scandalous look,
“Hey baby, what’s that I hear? I think you the “type” that really likes fucking Bobby.”
He chuckled and moved in solidly against me, while still looking down at me, expectantly.
I involuntarily moaned again.
He stayed in that position moving about, experimenting, until he was firmly rubbing those places with each move he made. Then he settled back down and returned to work deep into my vagina now firmly reaching those sensitive places with each stroke.
We had become very warm. He was perspiring. I could feel his moisture combining with mine between us. He was driving me out of my mind.
At some point, I remember my body started moving upward to meet each of his thrusts. He was moving hard against me at the time, so it may have been for protection, or it may have been to help assure he found those places deep within.
He rose slightly again,
“I think this big black dick is driving you crazy little girl. Am I right? “
He looked down at me.
Finally, a dark expression came over his black face,
“Listen bitch, this nigger spoke to you.”
When I ask a question, I want an answer.
This black dick is sort of driving the girl wild, right?”
He hesitated still looking directly into my face.
I looked up and for the first time admitted the truth to myself and then to him.
“Yes.”
He thrust into me firmly,
“Yes what, sweetheart?”
He hesitated there firmly against my sensitive places.
“I like this dick.”
“What type of a dick is it you like, lover?”
“I like your type dick.”
I answered softly.
“What’s that big dick doing lover?”
“It’s driving me crazy.”
“That’s my “type” of girl. Here you can have it all again.”
With that, he moved down and returned to stroking deeply into me.
I moaned and my arms came up to surround him.
That was all it took, without another word he delivered. Fifteen long strokes; I counted them and with each stroke I felt the surge of his warm semen and a responding contraction deep within me. My body was arching upward and tightening around him with each surge, and each time it caused me to shudder with an uncontrolled response. Each time I shuddered he would respond with another stroke and another deposit.
Then one final deep thrust and he collapsed onto me. He was as deep as he could get.
After sometime he gently began to lift up and withdraw, but to my surprise I was holding him down tightly. Somewhere in the process my arms had tightened around his neck and my body had constricted holding him tightly down there as well. He couldn’t move.
Shocked and embarrassed, I let go of him and struggled to stop the contractions. But, as he began to withdraw an empty feeling swept over me. My vagina would not stop tightening around him. I shuddered from head to toe and pulled him back toward me, waiting for my body to release him.
Bobbie grinned down at me.
“Oh my, baby! We like that, don’t we girl?”
He rested there a moment and then just started to ramble,
“Girl, you got some very special things going on in there. You really need the loving. You know being preggo is just going to make you wilder every day. You get real happy right now, understand? Bobby has ways to work this all out. Ways that will keep you a happy lady, for sure. I’ll make sure everything is ok for you.”
I lay on my back on the desk, exhausted, as he put things away slowly and then helped me to my feet. My dress fell back into place and I reached up to straighten my hair a bit. As my arms went upward to reach my hair another convulsion passed through my lower body. I shook all over.
My body was adjusting to what happened. Repeated contractions were securing everything assuring I was going to keep everything that had been put deep within me.
I walked over to get my panties. They were missing. I turned looking for them.
Bobbie had moved to the desk chair where he sat watching my unstable walk and smiling,
“You’re one good looking fine lover, little girl. It’s going to be good working together…do you agree?”
I nodded.
He grinned again,
“Baby, Bobby just spoke to you. When this nigger speaks he wants none of this head shaking shit. You understand. I want to hear your lovely voice.”
In my mind, I could still feel him buried in me, still feel my reactions; still feel his lips around mine.
“We’re going to have fun working together; right?”
I looked up at him directly.
“Yes.”
My voice was so clear and precise I surprised myself.
Without another word, Bobby turned his attention to the desk as he wrote on a note pad. Finished, he laid it on the desk and stood up to wrap me in an embrace. His tongue parted my lips and I moaned loudly as an undeniable passion coursed through me.
His kiss locked to me as he backed me toward the desk, and came over me. I arched backward onto the desk with my feet on the floor as before. He released the kiss and stepped back. I lifted my skirt, as he undid his pants. He came toward me and I lifted to receive him. I was surprisingly tight. He entered me firmly, and I immediately climaxed as I had never climaxed in all my dreams. I shook from head to toe. I grabbed for his neck and buried my tongue in his mouth.
Five long strokes into my body and he unloaded deep in me again.
Finished for the second time, he kissed me, stood up, and helped me back to my feet. My skirt fell back into place. He hugged me almost childlike and then stepped back with a warm smile. He zipped up all the time smiling at me,
“We are both the same “type” for sure, Caroline. You and I are going to get on fine. We’re going to make this an adventure for sure.”
A strange euphoria overtook me.
I looked directly at him.
“Thank you for everything.”
He smiled, kissed me directly on the lips, hugged me tightly, turned and went out the door.
I was alone in the security office.
It took several minutes for me to get gathered together. My panties were gone. My hair was a mess. I worked briefly to straighten my baggy dress. I felt damp down below but very good. No pain, just a surprising sensitivity, and a definite new mysterious yearning…almost loneliness.
I went over to the desk to get the note.
It told me where my Doctor appointment would be. I was to be there tomorrow night. My euphoria turned to outright joy. The solution was in my hand.
The Mallmart was very busy. The security supervisor was right outside the little office, but he only got a glance as frumpy me with my hair in all direction headed out to the parking lot. I didn’t care about a thing. I was walking on air.
My Mustang ran smoother. My heart was so much lighter. There was light at the end of the tunnel for Caroline. I knew there were ways to resolve this. I had looked everything up on the PC. I had a Doctor now. I had an appointment. I knew it was expensive, but I had that covered too. I had the support of that security guard and I had a new friend in Bobby.
I could have kissed that big black security guy for getting this all set up, but then the wild thought crossed my mind…I had kissed him ROYALLY. Not only did I still carry the result of his first “kiss” within me, but now I was carrying even more of him in my body as well. That man had been well “kissed”.
Interesting, as I drove along a strange thought came into my mind. Why did they not let me wear my panties home? Then a light bulb came on…evidence! A woman in Washington proved that evidence lasts a lot longer on clothing.
But even without the panties this time I was not making a mess. I had just had sex with two guys, both climaxed deep inside me several times, but my body had firmly retaining everything somewhere deep within me. Sure I could feel dampness, but it was under control, not all over the seat. I was not setting in a pool.
Strange things were happening within my body and my mind.
As I drove the slightest movement of my legs sent a hollow feeling into my lower tummy. It was this new yearning. A physical sensation down there which confirmed all the new found contradictions I was experiencing were not just mental aberration.

Leave a Reply