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Guilty Pleasure

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A young woman strode confidently into the designer dress shop. Her designer purse weighed heavy in her hands, and stuck under her armpit was a large wooden handle, hidden under her jean jacket. She waltzed to the dress section and picked out the short pink prom dress she’d been yearning for for almost a month. She slyly slinked over to an attendant and asked to try on the dress. The woman smiled and lead the teenager to the row of changing rooms and unlocks the third one. She stepped back and let the girl enter the mini mirrored room.
The girl waited for the clacking heeled footsteps of the assistant to fade a little, then clicked the lock on the room. She pulled the wooden handle out from under her arm and put it and her purse on the bench, the end of the handle still hidden in the folds of her purse. She draped her jacket over the handle so it’s obscured from view, just to be safe.
Next the girl stripped down, taking off her designer jeans, her designer blouse and push-up bra. She trembled slightly from the chill of the air conditioned room, being accustomed to the heat outside. She paused to admire her body in the mirror for a few seconds. Then she picked up the dress, removing it from the hanger.
She lifted up her arms and let the smooth silk fall down her body, feeling the ecstasy that only comes with shopping. She adjusted the dress looking in the mirror, happy to see how pretty she looked. Her heart beat quickens, the dress is a perfect fit, the ideal prom dress. She twirls and lets out a small laugh, then clamped her hand over her mouth.
She had to control her self, for next is the hard part. The girl slowed her breathing and pushed her excitement down, falling into a numb meditation. She grabbed the handle under her coat and pulled it out from the purse, exposing a large axe. She turned and unlocked the door, slowly pushing it open.
She strode forward out of the dressing room, keeping the axe down to her side. She looked around the room, noticing the assistant was over by the wall furthest from the doors. Good, she wouldn’t need to worry about her. The cashier was buffering her nails, leaning against the counter. There were three other shoppers in the store, but none of them looked like they would be bold enough to stand in her way, much less be her match if they did.
She put her purse in the crotch of her arm and draped her coat over it. She strode confidently toward the doors, attempting to keep her weapon behind the clothing racks, out of any one's line of sight.
Noticing something was amiss, the woman at the counter stood up and looked at the girl, as if unsure of what she was doing. The two young women made eye contact. That’s when the dress wearing girl made her move.
She brought the axe up with as much speed as her skinny arms could muster, making sure it caught the edge of a rack containing last year’s low priced jeans, sending the rack crashing, jeans flying everywhere. The women in the store let out high pitched squeals, ringing through the previously quiet clothing store. The woman at the desk stayed back immobilized in fear, the other women were likewise scared. Hiding behind displays and moving away from the girl.
The young woman was okay with that. She wasn’t looking for a hostage situation, a dress wasn’t worth that. Now if there was a really nice pair of shoes, that would be worth sticking around for. Then, without realizing what she was doing, the girl scanned her gaze around the spacious clothing store. She let her eyes linger on the shoe department, taking a few steps forward. She then caught herself, to stay now would be a crucial mistake. There was no doubt that one of the ladies in the back had already called the cops, and there was only an expected window of four minutes for the police to get here.
Keeping the axe at eye level the girl made her way to the doors. She made a moment of eye contact with the lady behind the counter. “I’m leaving now.” The girls voice was calm, stern, and slightly imposing. It was uncharacteristic with the girls petite body. The woman cringed away slightly, pleasing the young woman. She sped toward the double doors, and then paused a foot from them. She smiled, turned to her left, and plucked a pair of pink and white heels from a door display. She then strutted from the store.
She walked out to the left, moving from the sound of the approaching sirens, very faint in the distance. She crossed down the third alley, and then ditched the axe under a dumpster, for she had learned people were much less likely to look under it, then in it. The woman remained calm, walking out onto the the street behind the store and moving away from it. She was startled to see a police vehicle moving down the street toward her. She sidestepped to the side of a newspaper stand, pretending to be occupied with the headlines. The car passed by without a second glance and the girl released the breath she didn’t know she was holding.
After a short walk, and several changed subway cars, the girl was able to ditch her paranoia and confuse whoever may have been tailing her. She left the subway and hailed a cab to take her to the home. She paid the man and entered her house. Shaking with excitement of getting away with another theft, the woman headed into the spare bedroom, or in her mind, her walk in closet. She scooped up her cat, and smiled, looking at the year's worth of ameature thevery.
This was her life. This was her happiness. This was her guilty pleasure.





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