It's the summer break and I am just waiting for the fall semester classes to start at El Camino Junior College. I graduated from high school last May and have taken a position as a "Security" consultant at Macy's in the Fountain Valley Mall. So, you may ask, what does a security consultant do? Well for one; I watch shoppers and try to prevent shoplifting; two, I walk around the store a lot and three, get paid minimum wage to do this crummy job. I only took it because I needed money for college and it was the only job I interviewed for that actually offered me a position. Well that's not exactly true, Burger King did have a position open for a "line operator," but I passed on that on that one.

So here I am on a beautiful and sunny Saturday in Southern California, walking around Macy's and looking at people to see if they are stuffing anything in their purses' or down their shirts. In a normal world, one in which my parents had enough money to send me to a real college, I would have been spending the afternoon at the beach with my friends, but then no one ever said life would be fair.

I had stationed myself over near the women's blouse and skirts section of the store because I could keep my eyes on the women getting advice on make-up and perfumes. Usually, on a busy day, a lot of good-looking women frequented the beauty/perfume section. I had my eyes focused on a vixen of about 30, who had to be at least 5'9" and a D-cup. She was getting some advice on eye liner and I had my eyes on her breasts, hoping against all hope that she would lie back in the chair and I could get a peek down her low cut blouse. Something going on to my far right caught my eye and I looked over toward the jewelry section where I saw a girl who looked to be a teenager. You ALWAYS watched teenagers because they were the most flagrant shoplifters.

I walked back through women's blouses and veered over towards men's shoes where I could get a better view of this teen to see if she fell into the stores' profile of a shoplifter. When I next caught a glimpse of her, I realized that I knew who she was. It was Connie Wilson, the thirteen-year-old daughter of Circuit Court Judge George Wilson. I had had the "pleasure" of meeting Connie during my last year at high school. Even as an incoming freshman she was the "bitch from hell" and I was a defacto poor guy from the other side of the tracks. Connie was the type of young woman who wore her father's "judgeship" on her arm, and to boot, this family was one of the richest and most powerful families in town.

I stood and pretended to be looking at a pair of Nike jogging shoes and watched her browse through the bracelets on the counter. After about five minutes I stared to move on for greener pasture because it dawned on me that Connie could buy the entire showcase of jewelry, ergo, she really didn't need to steal anything. I set down the shoe I was using as a cover and as I started to turn around when I saw her drop the bracelet she was holding into her purse. I couldn't believe my eyes. This dumb shit had just shoplifted a $10 bracelet. Why the fuck would she do that? She was wearing a watch that must have cost three grand, why cop a cheep bracelet? I started to walk over and confront her when the words of my boss rang in my ears. "Let them get out of the store with the goods. If you don't they technically haven't stolen anything. They can always claim it must have fallen into my purse, or I didn't realize I had it, or a thousand other bullshit excuses."

I trailed Connie for almost fifteen minutes as she window shopped throughout the store. I think that she was nervous and trying to get her courage up to leave the store. For most shoplifters the thrill wasn't in stealing an object, but getting out of the store without getting caught. As Connie headed out for the exit I saw she was going to use the East Wing exit, the one that led directly into the mall. I cut through sporting goods and went into the mall to wait for her. Just then Connie emerged from the store and I approached her.

"Excuse me miss," I said, "but I think you have some items that you may have forgotten to pay for."

"What?" she said. "Who are you? I don't have anything that doesn't belong to me, get lost."

"Well miss, I believe you do have some stolen items and I am going to have to ask you to accompany me back into the store"

"Look asshole," she said, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Ma'am, you have two choices here; either come with me or I call the cops!"

She thought about that for a minute or two, and then spat out "Ok. Fine. I'll go back with you, but you're going to be real fucking sorry that you messed with me."

I took her by the arm, walked her back into the store, up the escalator to the second floor and then to the back of the store where the Security Office was located. We entered the empty office and I took her into a holding room. The store had made three separate holding rooms, one of which had been turned into an employee lounge and coffee room. I asked her to have a seat and she flopped into the chair next to the interrogation desk. The office was pretty bleak and looked pretty much like the interrogation offices you saw on NYPD Blue, Law and Order or any other of the TV cop shows. I pulled out a clipboard with standard questionnaire and started asking the basics; name, address, age etc. Then I said,

"OK, miss. First thing you need to do is empty your purse on the desk,"

"No way shithead. You want to see in my purse, you get a fucking warrant. My Dad's a lawyer, I know my rights."

"Well apparently not too well. You have two choice here, either you can empty your purse and prove that you haven't stolen anything, or... I call the cops and they take you to their offices for interrogation. Your choice."

She looked at me for a second and I think that she thought about telling me to fuck off, but then just lifted up her purse and dumped the whole contents on the desk. The items scattered everywhere; on the desk, the floor, my lap. She laughed at my feeble attempts to grab what must have been 50 moving objects as they fell. Then she said, "OK, hot shot, there is everything you wanted."

I rummaged around through the items until I found the offending bracelet, held it up and announced, "Well this bracelet seems to still belong to the store because it has a price tag attached."

She gasped, then said "I don't know where that came from, I sure did put it into my purse." It was a good act, maybe even Emmy material, but I had seen her put it into her purse, so - no awards.

"Look Ms. Wilson," I began. "I have enough evidence to prove shoplifting and I am going to have to hold you for the police. Before I call them though I have to follow the store policy which means I am going to have to make sure you aren't carrying have any weapons. So stand up and let me check you out." It really wasn't part of our procedures, but I was thinking that maybe I could cop a feel and provide this bitch with a little humility.

She stood up, then looked at me. "What "exactly" does check me out mean?"

I told her to face the desk and put her hands flat down on the desk so I could pat her down. She started to comply, then suddenly turned and said, "You've got to be shitting me. No way you're going to run your perverted hands over my body. You find a female you can take me to jail."

Her outburst startled me a little and I jumped back away from her. I caught my breath, steadied my voice and said, "We don't have any female officers, so if that's what you want ma'am, I'll call the cops now." I picked up the phone and began to dial. What she didn't know was that I neglected to push the button for an outside line, so I was faking the call.

"Ok, Ok," she intoned, "you can check me for weapons, but don't get fresh or I'll sue your ass and the store." She faced the table again and put her hand flat down as I had requested. I walked up behind her and looked at her clothes. She was dressed like the typical teenager, wearing a pair blue jeans and a peasant blouse. At 13 she didn't have any real tits, but did have a very nice ass. I bent over and patted my hands around her tennis shoes and up her legs, being careful to avoid getting all the way up to her ass. Then I ran my hands from her shoulder down to her waist. The only thing I found was that she wasn't wearing a bra. I told her to stand up and face me. When she did I looked at her and ran my hands down her arms, from the shoulders to her wrists. I choose to avoid trying to check her chest so I reached around her torso and ran my hands around on her ass.

"Hey, stop that you fuckin perv!" she screamed.

"OK, OK I had to check," I responded. "Now would you please take a seat next to the desk?" She plopped down in the chair and faced me. "Look, I hate to do this," I said, "but I've got to call the cops. I mean you have a stolen bracelet in your purse and store policy is to turn shoplifters over to the police."

She looked at me for a minute and I think I saw her façade of the "tough bitch" fade, then I noticed tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She looked at me and said, "OK, I did it. I took the bracelet. I don't even know why, I just did it. You know who I am and what something like this would do to my family; can't you cut me a little slack?"

"Look Connie," I said. "I would love to help you, but..."

"OK," she said, "but please let me at least call my mother before you call the cops."

"Fine, here is the phone, call your mother."

Connie picked up the phone and dialed her mother's number. "Hi Mom. Yea, me too. Look, I got into a bit of trouble over at the mall and... No Mom, just listen... anyway, I am at Macy's in the Security Office. Second floor, rear. Can you please come over here and help me out? OK, thanks." She hung up the phone and looked toward me.

She looked back at me. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"John"

"Well John, my Mom is on her way, can you wait until she gets here before you make your call?"

"Sure, no problem."

We sat there in the room, waiting. Nothing was said between the two of us we just sat there in silence. After about 20 minutes there was a light knock on the office door and Mrs. Wilson entered. She rushed over to her daughter, hugged her, whispered something in her ear, then turned to me.

"I am Dianne Wilson, Connie's mother, now what in the hell is going on here young man?"

I started with the words, Caught your daughter shoplifting, and before I could get another word out of my mouth she yelled back in on me. "What! Why are you holding my daughter? Shoplifting, not my Connie, that's a fucking joke. YOU people are in for the fight of your life if you think you can get away with accusing my daughter of theft! Do you even have a clue as to who we are? What we can DO to you? What in the hell is your name, boy?"

Connie spoke up, "His name is John mom and I did take the bracelet. He found it in my purse."

She spun around and faced her daughter. "What? What did you say?" "You did what?"

"I said I took the bracelet mom, I shoplifted it."

"Don't say another word honey, not another word." She looked at me and said, "I'm going to call my lawyer and he'll be here within 30 minutes." YOU, she said pointing at me, can sit down and wait!

My mouth dropped open and I starred up at her from my desk. Here I was going to try and help out her daughter and she is screaming at me. Just who the fuck did she think I was, some trailer park white trash? Well, Mrs. High-and-Mighty Judges wife. Yelling at me, OK, now you have fucking pissed me off. I stood up, pointed my finger at her and said, "OK, that's fine with me Mrs. Williams. You get your fucking lawyer on the phone and tell him to meet you at the Sheriff's Station because I'm gonna call the cops."

"What? Sheriff's Station? You can't do that!"

"Yes Mrs. Wilson, I can. I caught your daughter with stolen goods. She admitted to me and to you that she took the bracelet. Store policy REQUIRES me to call the cops. So you can be a bitch all you want be, but I am holding all the cards."

"Bitch? Did you just call me a bitch?"

"Yes I did. You are being a bitch and you daughter is even a bigger bitch than you are. So why don't you just shut the fuck up and let me do my job?"

Dianne slumped down into the extra chair. She looked defeated. "Ok. John is it? Like you said you have all the cards. Can we work something out here, I mean... well you know. My husband would "really appreciate" any help you could give Connie and I."

My body released its pent up tension and I said, "I don't know Mrs. Wilson, I not suppose to play any favorites, I just follow the stores policies. I mean I could get into trouble for this." I was trying to decide how far I could milk this situation when she said,

"John, I am willing to do anything you ask, if and only if, you'll let my daughter off the hook for this."

I sat there thing about what she had said. She would do anything. Anything, did she really mean that? I was initially thinking that I could get a nice payoff here, but now my teenage hormones were kicking in and I was thinking maybe I could get some sex out of the deal, maybe even a mother/daughter tandem. Only one way to find out how far I could go with this. "OK Dianne, if you're willing to do anything to help your daughter, I think I have a plan. I'll let Connie here walk on the shoplifting charge and I'll make sure all of the paperwork disappears but you must be willing to do anything I ask. Just like you offered, anything. Fair enough?"

She looked up at me. I could see that she was trying to figure out how much this little indiscretion was going to cost her husband. It probably wasn't the first time she had to shell out cash to get one of her kids out of one jamb or another. "Sure, John" she said, "I'll do what ever you want, now what's your price?"

I didn't say a word. I got up and walked over to the door and pulled off the magnetic "Interview in Process, Do Not Disturb" sign, opened the door and put the sign on the outside so we would have some privacy. When I closed the door I made sure it was locked. I walked back over to my desk, cleared off the top and sat back down in my chair. "OK Dianne. Here is my first request. Please take off your blouse."