Stolen (The Madame X School of Sex)

The first time I stole something was on a dare.

I was fifteen and reckless, determined to prove I could be a bad ass. My best friend Jody dared me to take a pack of gum from the Handy-Mart. In retrospect, I’m surprised my bumbling effort didn’t land me in jail. It was hardly a covert mission but I did it.

I did it, I loved it and I’ve been stealing ever since.

Usually it’s something small, just enough to give me the rush. Over the years, I’ve graduated up to pickpocketing which requires a bit more daring and a lot more finesse. I’ve never gotten caught and I suppose that’s part of the thrill.

Every time I take something I have to wonder if this is the day my luck will run out.

"Excuse me, sir? Do you mind?" The young businessman I've chosen as my next target has been sitting quietly, reading the paper during the entire subway ride. Normally I don't do this until I'm about to get off the train but I'm restless today. I can feel the desire to pinch something rising in me, a tide of adrenaline that won't give me any rest until I appease it.

"No, no one's sitting here." He moves over, leaving the aisle seat empty. The seat is warm when I sit down. It gives me a little thrill to feel the heat of his body on my aching slit.

Stealing, you see, gives me more than just an adrenaline rush. It makes me so wet that I literally throb between my legs. It’s the most potent aphrodisiac I’ve ever encountered. Nothing else makes me feel this way.

Which is why it’s so hard for me to stop.

“It was a nice day today. I hope the good weather continues.” I’ve learned that inane conversation works best. Nothing unusual or distinctive, nothing that would cause a person to look twice. The same words, the same lines this man has probably heard a dozen times today. Nice weather we’re having isn’t it? Have a good one, sir. You too.

I’m not very distinctive looking so it works for me. A brown-haired, brown-eyed girl with a medium tan skin tone isn’t that memorable. The only thing distinctive about me is my figure. My aversion to dieting luckily translates into heavy round breasts and a curvy ass. I had one boyfriend who loved my breasts so much he could spend hours caressing them, rolling the tight pink nipples between his fingers before sliding his cock into the valley of my cleavage. I’d enjoyed the erotic power I had over him more than the sex itself. My pussy had been pretty neglected while I was dating him.

As the train lurches around a particularly sharp turn, I allow my body to fall into the stranger’s. He looks up briefly and our eyes meet. This is the part where I hastily apologize. So sorry about that, excuse me, oh, pardon me. It’s so easy at this point to dip a hand into a purse, to slide a wallet from a pocket. Only this time I can’t do it.

He has the most beautiful pair of eyes I’ve ever seen.

His eyes are a deep, dark brown with lighter flecks around the iris. It’s not so much the color as the intensity I see there. When he looks at me, it’s not with the casual disinterest of a stranger. He looks at me as if he really sees me. It’s a powerful feeling. For a long moment time contracts and I’m held suspended in his gaze.

Then he looks away.

A sudden, sharp slice of lust runs through me, leaving my emotions gaping wide. I’ve never felt physical desire as strong as the desire I have to steal. It hits me then that the thrill I get from stealing is what others are getting from sex. All the desire that’s been contained within me for years has woken up because of this stranger. Every pore on my body is tingling, thirsty for touch.

Thirsty for him.

“Are you okay? Ma’am?” He’s looking at me like I’m crazy. In the back of my mind, I already know I’ve blown it but something comes over me. I slip my hand in his pocket and take his wallet anyway.