In the bottom drawer of the jewelry box was a purple bag, inside of the bag was a three diamond neckless. I laid the neckless on top of the dresser and returned the bag to it’s place. With just a little luck I would replace the neckless tomorrow night while they were at bingo.
I closed the jewel box, picked up the neckless, and turned to go. There stood Deardra. She was in her pajamas, her hair was a mess, no make-up—she was beautiful.
“What are you doing in my house! and what are you doing with my mom’s neckless?”
I was astounded, “I…I, let me explain.” I walked toward her and she backed away.
“Oh, you’re gonna explain or I’m calling the cops,” she said, holding out a cell phone.
“Wait. Please don’t call them,” I pleaded.
I tried to think up a believable lie, but nothing came. Perhaps it was because she had been the object of my desire for so long: I don’t know why else, but I confessed to her.
As I talked we slowly moved into her bedroom. I told her of the diamonds and the daylight robberies, and how, to date, no one had seems to have missed their jewels. She seemed to grow more excited as I spoke.
Deardra had big tits for a 13 year old, and under her pajamas they rose and fell the more excited she became. I couldn’t take my eyes from them. I guess she noticed, because she said, “You want to see my breasts?”
Not trusting my voice, I nodded.
She said, “Will you show me your diamond collection if I show them to you?”
Again I nodded.
She took hold of the hem of her pajama top and pull it up to her chin. I was no connoisseur of tits, having only seen them in pictures, but her’s were beautiful and jutted straight out.
I asked, “Can I feel them?”
She giggled and quickly covered them. “After you show me your jewels—I’ll show you mine,” she teased.
“Ok,” I said, looking at my watch. It was getting time for her parents to return from their breakfast.
Standing, pouring her mothers neckless from hand to hand, I said, “How about me going and getting the gems and bringing them back?”
“Nope. I want to see your hideout. Let’s go.”
“Don’t you think you should get dressed?”
She looked down at herself, as though surprised. “We don’t have time.”
She took a long coat from her closet and slipped into it. “Let’s go.”
I laid the neckless on her dresser between a porcelain unicorn and a Miley Cyrus clock-radio. She motioned with her hand, “Don’t forget your loot, milkman.”
I dropped the neckless into my pocket and followed her.
A half block from my dugout I stopped. “You’re gonna have to be blindfolded from here on.”
“Oh, come on. I won’t tell anyone.”
“This is non-negotiable.”
We argued a bit, before she finally agreed to be blindfolded.
Holding her hand I wandered around to confuse her until we reached the dugout. Once there I removed the hatch and instructed her to climb down. She was nervous, her hand was wet with sweat.