Characters are loosely based on those belonging to Stephanie Meyer, in name and visual appearance at least. As always, this work was edited by my long-suffering friend, touchstone67.
The very first thing I observed about Bella was she too stole for sport and not necessity.
Watching as an overweight security guard escorted her towards his holding pen for petty criminals. I studied her clothes and noted the characteristics which set her apart as rich even as she tried to disguise it. Her hair was beautiful, well cared for and untouched, it wasn't straightened or curled with irons to create the illusion of glamour; it naturally fell in a waterfall of smooth waves, the sign of an expensive cut undamaged by heat. Her nails were well-groomed but no extensions, meaning she was regularly pampered but didn't want anybody to know. Being born into money myself, I could spot designer gear a mile away and her clothes were the genuine articles.
Her ankle boots were Chanel, this season's not last. Even though she'd procured them in the past two months they were scuffed, probably from attempts to outrun similar misdemeanors. She wore tights with a seam that ran up the back of each leg, seams my eyes happily chased after until interrupted by the hem of her dress, which barely skimmed her ass. It was polyester, styled to look like leather, and as she walked past me with her effortless runway strut, I'd noticed the detailing; a side-zip partly undone to reveal her bra. Undisturbed by curves, it fell from her tall, slim figure the way it was designed to. She had gone for trashy and overtly sexual, but it was a perfect ensemble.
She was utterly alluring.
"Time for some fun," I murmured to myself, swinging my leg over the bench I'd been straddling and walking in her wake.
Catching up as they entered the office, I knocked lightly on the door, then ignoring the sign which indicated it was out of bounds, pushed it open.
"Officer," I called out as I entered, addressing the man I knew to be merely a security guard in authoritative costume.
Charmed by my blatant flattery, he answered me with a flustered, "How can I help you?"
"That's my sister," I answered him, gesturing to the goddess beside him.
He inspected us both, recognising some of things I had in her, the straight teeth and inherent class dripping from us both. While his head was turned in my direction, examining me to determine if he believed my statement, she mouthed her name to me, exaggerating the syllables to send the message clearly, drawing my attention to her plump, silky lips.
"She has a condition," I continued, "it's called Kleptomania, its compulsive, she really means no harm." When he didn't interrupt, I subtly introduced a bribe. "I realise this situation has complicated your day, but I assure you I can pay for the items and your valuable time."
"I will have to inform my senior, but we will take that on board. Wait here," he directed before leaving us in the room together, locking the door behind him.
"You're not really going to pay up are you?" she jeered.
"Where would be the fun in that," I replied, winking as I searched through the guard's desk for the standard hidden compartment and spare key, a legal requirement for fire safety. I opened the door, peering around both corners to make sure the coast was clear before ushering her out. The karabiner held a second key, which I assumed unlocked the door adjacent to the one we'd just been in.
I signaled to it and she readily followed me into our new hideout. The room was cramped and dark, anticipation flickered in her eyes, betraying her attempts at calm composure regarding my proximity. I closed the door behind us and she leant her back against it, then I unnecessarily stood in front of her to lock the door.
"Kleptomania?" she questioned, raising a brow.
"Compulsive theft," I supplied, "preceded by arousal or escalated pressure and resulting in satisfaction, a pleasurable release." I breached the small space between us and pressed my hips against hers as I spoke. "Opioid antagonists, some therapy and you'll be right as rain," I smirked.
We laughed freely for a moment before stifling it to avoid detection.
"You're a doctor," she assumed, fooled by my height.
"One day hopefully, I'm seventeen"
Making no attempt to hide my fixations with her breasts, I complimented, "Great dress." Leaning my forearm against the wall beside her head, I stroked her neck encouraging her to lift her chin to me. "Buy it with our father's credit card?" I teased, referencing our faux familial fib.
"Stole it," she breathed, standing on her toes to get closer.