Ivy League Sluts

Chapter 2 Arrested

 

    

     “I’ll take that, Miss,” said the store security guard reaching for the shopping bag Stacy was carrying. 

     “Come with us, please,” said the guard’s female partner stepping to the other side of Stacy bracketing her between them.

     “I haven’t done anything,” said Stacy fighting the urge to panic.  No, she told herself. This can’t be happening again.

     “Right, but we need to have a little talk.  Don’t make a fuss.  No need to upset the other customers,” said the female guard.

     Stacy glanced at their nametags, Mark Wilson and Faye Sellers.

     This just can’t be happening to me repeated Stacy as they wound past racks of merchandise toward the back of the department store.  My parents will kill me.  Mother will never speak to me again.

      “I haven’t shoplifted,” said Stacy as soon as they passed through the door marked Security Office Employees Only.

      “We’ll see,” said Mark dumping the contents of Stacy’s shopping bag on a table.  There were several items including two spring tops Stacy had bought but there were two smaller packages she didn’t remember purchasing.

      “You got receipts for these?” asked Faye picking up the two small bottles of expensive perfumes.

      “No, I didn’t buy those.  Someone must have put them in my bag,” said Stacy.  She had no idea how the perfume got in her bag.

      “Right, they just hopped off the counter all on their own,” said Mark.  “Sit down, Miss, we got some paperwork to do before we call the police.”

     “No, please, I can pay.  But I didn’t take them. Someone must have put them in my shopping bag,” repeated Stacy struggling to maintain her composure. 

     “Stop the bullshit.  You’re busted.  We know it isn’t your first time,” said Faye pointing toward the computer monitor on her desk.  “It’s all there in the computer’s database on shoplifters.  You and an accomplice were arrested at the Watertown Mall last October 12th.”

     “That was my dorm mate.  She was shoplifting and I didn’t know it,” said Stacy surprised they already knew she’d been arrested before.

     “That isn’t what the judge ruled, $500 fine, one hundred hours community service, and three months probation.  You have violated probation.  Judge Myers won’t like that.  He’s a real hard ass on probation violators,” said Mark

     “I wasn’t guilty but my lawyer said it was better to plead guilty to a misdemeanor and get it over with,” said Stacy.

     “$300 for an ounce, ridiculous,” said Faye looking at the price tag on one of packages.

     “More than $250 classifies you as a felony shoplifter.  You better get a good lawyer, Miss, or you are going inside,” said Mark.

     “I hope you like girls.  Cause a pretty young femme like you is going to munch a lot of rugs,” said Faye.  “Come with me.  You know the drill.”

     Unfortunately Stacy did know the drill.  Two months ago she’d gone to a different mall with Jeanette, a fellow student who lived in the same dorm.  Stacy didn’t really know Jeanette well other than they had two classes together.  As they were leaving the store, security had arrested them.  Unbeknownst to Stacy, Jeanette had shoplifted something from practically every store in the mall.  It amounted to over $700.  After their arrest, Jeanette had dropped out of Harvard returning to her home in Colorado.  But Stacy, a Massachusetts resident, was left to face a Cambridge judge with a strong dislike for wealthy college students who broke the law.  She had avoided incarceration for thirty days by pleading guilty to a misdemeanor.  She’d completed the community service and was hopeful when her probation ended; her arrest record would be expunged.

     “Shirt,” asked Faye closing the door behind them?

     Stacy concentrated on unbuttoning her blouse determined not to lose control and burst into tears.

     “Bra?” asked Faye running her hand down the shirt Stacy handed her.

     “I didn’t have to take it off last time,” said Stacy.

     “It’s procedure in this store.  Maybe you arrived braless. You took one of our bras to the dressing room and put it on.  Wearing it out is common shoplifter practice.  If I tell the police you didn’t allow us to search you thoroughly, they’ll do it at the station and they will look in places I won’t,” said Faye smiling.

      “All right,” said Stacy reaching back to unhook her bra.

      “Nice,” said Faye examining the label in the bra noting it was an upscale designer brand too expensive for the department store.    

      Stacy resisted the urge to cross her arms over her breasts.  Her mind was desperately searching for an explanation for how the perfume had gotten in her shopping bag.  She had browsed the perfume counter but hadn’t bought anything.

      “Mom and Dad get you those for your birthday?” asked Faye.

      “Huh?”

      “Your boobs, augments?”

      “No, they’re mine,” said Stacy resisting the urge to tell Faye to mind her own fucking business.  Stacy’s breasts were large and had been the cause of unwelcome attention since they started to appear in the seventh grade. 

     “Nice shape, what’s the word when the nipple is turned up like yours?” asked Faye.

     “Perky, please, can I get dressed?” asked Stacy an angry tone creeping into her voice.

     “Don’t get pissed.  Just making conversation, take off your jeans,” said Faye.

     “Surely you don’t think I would steal underpants?”

     “Why not? It’s happened before.  Some of the good ones cost twenty dollars and up.”

     She must be a lesbian Stacy told herself as she pushed her jeans down.  I’m going to find out whether they do this to everyone.  I’ll sue if I’m being singled out.

     Stacy stood quietly as the guard emptied her jeans pockets on a nearby table.

     “The rest, shoes too,” said Faye tossing the jeans on the table.

     “You’re sure you do this to everyone,” asked Stacy?

     Stacy had been searched twice down to her underwear during her plane trip to Houston for the fall skeet competition.  She’d felt thoroughly humiliated by the experience.  Later, she’d read young attractive females were frequent choices of airport screeners for thorough searches.  While the TSA employee performing the search was a woman, there was usually a hidden video camera.

     “If you weren’t absolutely gorgeous, they wouldn’t have chosen you,” had been her father’s unsympathetic comment when Stacy had complained about being searched on both legs of her flight.  “Beauty can be a curse for a young woman.  Men and even women are attracted for the wrong reasons,” added Stacy’s mother.

     “Yes, no exceptions, everyone down to their socks, I search the girls and Mark the guys.  Hurry up or I’ll miss my break.”

     Stacy considered refusing then decided that would end any chances she might have of convincing them she was innocent.  Stacy slipped off her loafers as she pushed her panty down and stepped out of them.

     I am not going to let her intimidate me decided Stacy as she straightened up.  I’ll look her straight in the eye and dare her to do anything inappropriate.

     “Stand erect.  Spread your feet hip distance apart.  Hold yours arms straight out and turn slowly around,” said Faye tossing Stacy’s panty on the table after examining the label.

     Stacy stifled her feelings of shame and humiliation and did as she was instructed.  She was too upset to notice the video camera hidden in a bookcase.

     “Get dressed,” said Faye once Stacy had gone full circle.