Staring at a thief - a hypnosis story

Part 1 - Look deeply into my eyes

I don't have the most exciting job in the world. I am a mall detective. But, I can tell you that, over the years, some crazy things have happened to me. Things you might not expect to happen to someone who spends every single day of his working life investigating petty crimes like shop theft or vandalism. And make no mistake about it. Of all the experiences I've had, the encounter I am going to tell you about today outshines all others. It happened only a couple of years ago and still I sometimes find myself questioning whether it was all a fantasy, a vivid dream. Many of you will not only find this incident extraordinarily strange, but also deeply erotic. Was I not able to tell this story from a position of complete anonymity, you would never get to hear it. For if what happened that day was to be linked to my person, I sure would get into grave trouble. However, as far as I know, there are over 100 000 malls in the States, employing a fair number of mall detectives. So, good luck finding out where my home is. I won't help you along with any more detailed descriptions of time and place, nor will I provide you with my name. It's enough for you to know that, somewhere, sometime a girl tried to steal a shirt - and that's how this story starts.

Her name was Megan. I know this particular detail about her, because it is the only piece of information she willingly provided when I tried to take her personal information. At first, Megan did not seem to be very different from the average bumbling thief that I get to deal with very regularly. She looked the typical high school senior who felt like an adult but still had the pocket money of a child. Megan had picked a stylish white crop top with long sleeves that she probably figured would serve beautifully to turn the guys' heads at school. A matching pair of sneakers was also part of the loot. Megan followed quite a common strategy that usually must feel like a smart approach to the thief, but really doesn't work all too well in reality. The idea is to bring some old shabby clothes into the store, swap them and leave them there. Who would suspect that the stuff you are wearing on you could in fact stolen? Well, I would. I have become pretty good at spotting people who are wearing clothes which they want to get rid of. In Megan's case, her worn out flip-flops and shabby sweater really didn't match her diligently done hair and makeup. I waited in front of the dressing rooms until she had finished changing. Then once, she had left for the exit, I went in and quickly retrieved what she had left behind. I had no problem catching up with her right outside the store - Somehow people tend to walk slowly when they are trying to hide something. I guess it feels more casual and innocent.

Megan played it cool when I confronted her and showed her my badge. She looked at me as if I was out of my mind, then blatantly denied all accusations. Nevertheless, I could feel her pulse racing as I grabbed her by the arm to lead her towards my office. We are reporting all thefts to the police. I did not make these rules, but I abide by them, even when I feel pity for people. For the record, this was not the case with Megan. She was too snotty and uncooperative to inspire empathy. Once I had closed the door of my office behind us, she just stood there arms crossed in front of her chest staring at me defiantly. "What now?" she asked brusquely. "You gonna call my mommy?" Even though she stared at me with a gaze that could kill, I couldn't but notice her attractiveness. With her long legs she looked effortlessly chic in her joggers. Her slender midriff was staged effectively by the stolen crop top. She had made generous use of mascara and eye shadow, which gave her pretty face a slightly punky touch and really emphasized the darkness of her large eyes. I handed her a form on a clipboard and a pen. At first she made no move to take it and instead brushed away a strain of her long brown hair that had fallen in front of her face. Once she was done with that little act, she finally took it from my hands. Briefly, she scanned the document. Right after she had scribbled down the first word, she handed it back to me. "Not gonna fill that in!" she pointed out, as if her intentions weren't obvious. I looked at what she had written down - it was her first name only. To the day I don't know whether it was her real name. "Well ... Megan," I tried to sound as intimidating as possible, "I don't really care whether you fill that in with me or with the police." Contently, I observed a flicker of fear in her eyes. However, it was only a moment before she had regained control and returned to her defiant expression. "We can do it in a different order, though. Why don't you just give me the stuff you've stolen?" Without averting her gaze for even a moment, she slipped out of the trainers and kicked them towards me with her bare foot. Then, quite suddenly her face changed, as a playful, teasing twinkle had come into her eyes. "Now I understand why you've brought me here!" she smiled and pulled the crop top over her head with as much nonchalance as she could muster. "You just wanted to have a little peek at my boobs, didn't you?"