About two years ago, I and a business partner of mine, a tall and leggy woman named Jenna, opened up a re-sale clothing store called Fallen Fruit. We don’t run it for the money, because we don’t actually clear any great profit off the place even though it’s become quite popular with the local youth. And we’re not terribly interested in the merchandise we sell. We just put on the floor whatever our supplier brings us each week, at as low a cost as we think will keep the hipster crowd coming in. In fact, that’s all we wanted when we began operation: to keep the kids coming through the door.
Jenna and I hatched the plan after we’d been seeing each other for a few months. We weren’t perfect for each other although we got along well and had a good physical relationship. But we discovered we both had an interest in teenagers, and since Jenna was bi, we sometimes had an interest in the same ones. We used to go to the clubs on the weekend to try to find each other a suitable college playmate to bring home, but we found we both had an appetite for something even younger still. One afternoon while cruising the shopping district she had an epiphany.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we had a place where they just walked in the door?” We’d been talking about how hit and miss it was trying to find kids in the clubs, and how much effort had to be put into it. “What if we had a shop where they wanted to hang out, like a caf?or a head shop, or a clothing store? Someplace they’d want to come where we could get them in and get a good look at them.” It was pretty simple idea that had a lot of potential. The more we thought about it, the more the clothing store made the best sense. We could bring in a larger range of ages of both genders, we could actually get a look at them in the changing rooms if we rigged them with hidden cameras, and if we found the right place we could even have a back room area on the premises where we could entertain them.
The more we worked it through, the more devious the plan got. At first we thought we could just hire them and seduce them over time, or we could offer “special deals” for them to earn, or just do something as simple as help them in the fitting room. We kept bouncing around ideas while we searched for a place to implement them. We finally found a good location in a two-story building where we could set up second floor rooms for our pleasures, found a supplier who would bring our clothing to us so we didn’t have to put in any extra effort, and opened up for business. You’d be amazed how well it worked.
For the sake of discretion we decided we couldn’t hire anyone, we’d just have to run the place by ourselves. And we had to be careful of how we went about getting into their underage pants without getting busted. Both of us are rather attractive and it wouldn’t be very hard to simply seduce them and take them upstairs, but we’d just end up with a reputation for it, and sooner or later we’d get caught. We had to find a way of getting them to do what we wanted without them wanting to tell their friends about it. Then it occurred to us: shoplifting.
If we caught them stealing, it would be the perfect set up: give them the simple option of calling the police, or doing whatever we asked. And the real beauty of a teenage mind is that they aren’t really bright enough yet to see through the scam, and if presented with the terrifying reality of being arrested, we figured they really would do whatever we wanted. So we baited the trap.
For the first few months of operation we let them steal to their hearts content, making the place as shoplifter friendly as we could. We set up the floor with dense racks and dim emo-esque lighting. Then we took the extra step of not monitoring the fitting rooms, at least in any perceivable manner. We also had a lot of things for sale that were easy to lift, like cheap jewelry, accessories, and what would prove to be one of the best methods of catching them, a bin of cutesy panties right by the changing rooms.
And sure enough stuff started walking out the door and our loose reputation was soon established. What wasn’t known was that the whole place was set up with hidden cameras, and there wasn’t anything they were doing in there that we didn’t know about. We could see it all on a concealed monitor at the register. They almost always did one of two things: either try things on and leave them on underneath their clothes, or the tried and true method of slipping things into a bag or pocket.
All we did when we wanted some entertainment was to wait for someone to steal, and if we liked them we just pressed a button connected to a buzzer as they walked out the door. To them it seemed like the alarm had been sounded by their stolen item and there was nothing they could do, although a few made a break for it now and again. But for the most part, once things got going, we could just pick them like fruit off a tree.
We got the capture routine down pretty solid. We’d call them back to the register, give them a stern look requesting ID, followed by a visual confirmation on the monitors which we would show them, then they’d get an invitation to the employees door near the back which lead upstairs. When one of us made a catch, the other would remain down stairs and mind the store, unless it was near closing time, in which case we could “close up early” and both participate.
The upper floor had a large central room with a kitchenette and table on one side and a long sectional leather couch and arm chairs on the other. Off to one side was a short hallway that led to a room we’d set up as a typical bedroom, a bathroom, and another room we called the playroom. In there we had a couch along one wall and a mattress on the other. In one corner was a chair set up to allow tying up, along with some wall hooks for the same purpose. Next to the bed was a table and big chest of our favorite toys. We tried to set it up so that whatever mood we were in, there was a room for it and our delinquent.
With all this in place, we presented ourselves a world of possibilities in which we could do whatever we wanted. Here then are some snapshots of our exploits.