Copyright© 1992-2003

Said the cunt-lapping Bey of Algiers,
In a cunt halfway up to his ears :
"This nautch is delicious,
And without doubt nutritious.
She's my best-tasting wife in ten years!"

I do have limits! I mean I am a crook, sure, but that does not mean I would do many other illegal activities. Even thieves have a code of honour, if you will. What the hell am I talking about?

Well, I had a job to do. My business partner would case out a place, usually posing as a salesman or a meter reader, and it was my job to go in and empty the joint. Easy! And it usually is, except for this one time. Now I don't carry a gun, but just a knife for cutting away cords, or jimmying stuck cabinets. So I always try to B&E while the occupants are not home. I was already in the house, a normal middle-class dwelling which was chosen for my exploits because of the amount of toys. Electronic toys. Excellent turn-over value. This job would bring me personally over a thousand bucks!

Yet this job was not so easy!

There was someone in the house. A temptation that would perhaps have beguiled a less ethical man. A totally unforeseen disaster could happen if I didn't get out very quick. I was upstairs going through the main bedrooms drawers and closets and had already collected several pieces of jewelry. The sound from downstairs was unmistaken, a woman was crying! I almost shit my drawers, my partner had assured me the place was empty, the family had left for the evening. I suddenly pictured myself cuffed in the back seat of a police cruiser, not a vision I wanted fulfilled.

To get out of the house, I had to go back downstairs. I may be a thief but that doesn't mean I can climb! Nor did I bring rope. Damn, damn, damn, damn!

Moving as fast as I could while still stepping softly I crept downstairs. I saw a flickering light that was not there when I entered the house. It was the fireplace in the large living room that was giving that eerie red glow. It certainly was not there when I had left, perhaps someone returned home without my hearing. Doubtful but possible.

I still stood on the stairs but could see into the large immaculate living room. A person lay upon the floor, the sound of her crying louder. She was not crying loudly, but weeping to herself, yet in this quiet house the sound was very deafening. My muscles shook with fear, my hands were sweaty and my teeth ground together.

Finally I reached the bottom of the stairs and snuck another peek at the woman before I would exit from the front door and run like hell. I saw an attractive small woman, dressed very nicely, laying upon the floor facing the fire. From my angle I could see the tears upon her cheeks, and her sad round face. My heart went out to her, but what could I do? If she saw me, off to the big house for sure! I creeped to the door of the living room and watched her for a bit more. If she was OK, then I would leave. In that light I could see everything, though with a reddish glow, even the wine glass half-filled sitting next to her. I studied the profile of the lady. And that was what she was - a lady; older perhaps early thirties, she had that cuddly appearance that attracted me, she wore professional conservative clothing yet still very feminine, short blond hair that radiated the irregular light.

It was time to leave. I'm not sure how long I stood there, but it had to be about ten minutes. Karma I expect. When I was about to turn and go, I realized she was looking right at me!

Her eyes wide in surprise, I didn't see fear, she stared directly into mine. I realized I should have put on a mask or bellacaluva when I heard someone in the house. "I... I won't hurt you." I realized I must look fearful, black pants and shirt, black leather gloves and runners, and a duffel bag under an arm. One of her dainty hands came up and wiped a cheek dry. "I'm sorry for everything... I will leave now..."

I stepped back one pace then froze upon hearing her voice. "Don't go!" A voice filled with desperation and surprise. Yet surprisingly still no fear. I would have still turned tail and run if not for those two words. Why would she ask me to stay? Were the police on their way already? Perhaps she had a gun trained upon me? I froze in fear and astonishment.

I turned back in time to see her wipe the other cheek dry. She mumbled, "I'm sorry..." She surprised me again? Was I not the intruder, the crook, the thief? It was obvious she did not fear me. "My name is Cheryl-Anne," she stood awkwardly since her skirt hindered the movement, "please come in and sit down." She motioned towards a large comfortable couch. I was struck silent, but followed mutely her commands. I sat looking into her pretty face, and saw her smile. A happy, honest and earnest smile, filled with trust and something else? From my seat I could smell her perfume, I know not the name but it filled my head and caused my heart to flutter.

Cheryl-Anne took a seat next to me, about a foot distant, easily within arms distance. Her soft eyes met mine and I melted in her look. Perhaps she was stalling for the cops, yet something in the ladies manner suggested I was wrong. She asked quietly, politely, "What is your name?"

I didn't want to tell her the truth, it could be used against me in a court of law. So I gave her my name, the one used by my business acquaintances, "Chris." She reached out and took my hand held it firmly in her warm grasp. I of course let her, yet knew at any moment I could overpower this small woman and leave. But who was in power here? At that moment I contemplated forcing myself upon her. And I quickly discarded the notion, the lady was above that, even above me. And as I have said, I do have limits. One of those is that I will steal, but never hurt a person intentionally or otherwise. "I should go!" Indeed I should!

She held me more firmly, "No please stay!" I knew she would let go if I insisted. I didn't. Cheryl-Anne hung her head, looking down at her lap, almost in shame. To my distress her smile was gone. "I want you to make love to me." So quiet I'm sure I must have mistaken her words. After several seconds of silence, she looked up into my eyes, her look hard. "Here on the floor, make love to me here." I looked down at the large fur rug, perhaps a polar bear. Then let my eyes wander over the older woman's form, she lifted her chin and waited for my inspection to end.

Of course I wanted her, I was a young male after all. But I was crude, used to the streets, the women of he gutter. What did I know about "making love", in my world we called it sex or just fucking!

Yet in the end I pulled my hand from hers and placed it upon her right bosom. Was their any doubt reader? Cheryl-Anne closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Soon both hands were gently caressing and fondling the round soft breasts. She wore a silk pearl coloured blouse, loose, and a brassier underneath. And yet her nipples were very visible, they also poked into my palm exciting me beyond her earlier words. Both hands trembled when I placed them upon her lap, and began to worm then up her taunt skirt. Though my gaze was fixed to the placement of my hands, I saw out the corner of my eye as she began to slowly unbutton her blouse.