Chapter 7, The Present

Removing what I needed from the boxes I'd brought to the third floor, I assembled the triangular frame quickly. Not surprising since I'd designed it. All the items were interchangeable and only used one size of bolts. None of that, Part A to Part B connected with Bolt C, shit for me! I'd had to disassemble the large air compressor into three parts, but I was able to reconnect the parts quickly. With a foot pump, I inflated thick, sound, and vibration deadening mats. Mats went under and over the compressor. When I switched it on everything worked fine. There was no chance that the sound and vibration sensors on the floor above me would register a thing.

Using the compressor, I inflated more mats and spread them under and around the triangular frame. The last thing to do was to slip into the extra-strength 'bra' I'd sewn. I'd tried this next maneuver many ways in practice. I'd failed every time until I'd hit upon this idea. The metallic lump of steel that was the pneumatic drill weighed almost as much as I did. My bra had snaps between my boobs that I could hook onto the rings I'd welded to the body of the drill.

On my hands and knees, I leaned over to connect the drill to my chest. It took me two tries to get to my feet. I tottered over to the frame and looked up. I had to get this damned drill up eight feet and connect it to the frame! I had to be very careful. If I fell, every sensor in the building would go off. Not to mention that I liked my chest and boobs just as they were. Not crushed by a hundred pounds of metal falling on me. Hauling myself with trembling arm and leg muscles, one step at a time I climbed. At the top, I used aching back muscles to steady the drill in place. Balancing, I had the use of both hands. Bolts went in quickly and were tightened. Letting out an exhausted but satisfied breath, I unhooked from the drill. I tightened all the bolts again and wearily connected the air hose before climbing down.

I turned the compressor on to begin building up pressure before I sank to my knees and then my back. I was done. My legs were shaking and my breathing was so labored I swore, again, to stop smoking! As much as I wanted to keep going, my body needed rest and fuel. Feeling slightly dizzy, I went back to the janitor's closet and ate more energy bars. I drank a gallon of water from the sink and when I could speak without my voice quivering, I checked in with Rambo. Everything was still in the green. I'd lost some time because of my break but I was still ahead of schedule.

Returning to the third floor, I connected pulleys and wires to the triangular frame. By the simple turning of a wheel, I could now raise and lower the drill. This time I remembered to turn on the radio repeater in the room so I could stay in contact with Rambo. I put on thick workman's gloves over the thin latex ones I was still wearing. Helmet and face guard on, I gave a short laugh at my reflection in the glass of a window. Hair bunched under a knit cap, face guard, a thin, silvery unitard, and huge boots... Good thing I wasn't planning to be caught. The cops would laugh themselves to death at the sight of me!

"Rambo, I'm ready. Drilling now."

"10-4, Sugar Tits. I got my ears peeled for even a sniff of an alarm and you're still about an hour ahead of schedule."

Good thing I'd decided to start early. I started the drill and the much-oiled rotating pneumatic drill bit began to turn with a quiet WHIIIIRR. Turning a wheel, I began raising the drill up until the tip began biting into concrete. Going slow so the bit didn't bind in the concrete, dust and larger debris pattered down onto the mats and my safety helmet. I knew the circumference of my hips and ass. I'd calculated how many holes with the four-inch bit I'd have to drill to make a hole wide enough for me to fit through.

What? You're thinking, 'But, what about the steel floor of the vault?' Wanna know a secret? There is no steel floor. Many vaults on the upper floors don't have one. It saves money and weight. Even if a thief made it this far, I guess most people think eight to ten inches of reinforced concrete would be enough to deter most thieves. Thank God, I wasn't 'most thieves'!

How did I know that this vault had been built without a floor? That's a story for another day. I slowed the drill and lowered it. Nudging the triangular frame a few inches over, I began the second hole. Right now? I've got work to do!

CHAPTER EIGHT... The Past, Somewhere East Of The Mississippi River

I got the first job I applied for. It was at a small, one-man locksmith shop located within walking distance of the university and my apartment. Mr. Mac was a polite guy in his forties. Married to a nice lady who brought us cookies sometimes. I could tell that Mr. Mac liked to look at my ass but he never made a pass. If looking at my tits and ass sent Mr. Mac home a little horny, I counted it as a win for Mrs. Mac.

I was glad to get this job. Sure it didn't pay much but then, I didn't do much. Mr. Mac basically just needed someone to open and close the shop, schedule his appointments and wait on the occasional walk-in customer when he was out on jobs. Mr. Mac was out of the shop often. Some kid drops out of college and skips town with his key? Someone gets locked out of their car or house? Mr. Mac was a call away to come and change the locks or open the door.

As small as my salary was, it was still appreciated. I had an entire life to fill with stuff. Spoons, forks, plates, pots, pans, etc... First month, last month's rent plus a security deposit... Clothes, makeup, soap, towels... All of this made a huge dent in the money I'd earned with my body. I needed everything but more clothes came first. There were only so many clothes I could fit into a book bag when I ran away. Luckily there was a bus stop near my apartment that made going to cheaper stores around the city possible.

Work was easy. Keeping the store clean and the shelves stocked took no time at all. Walk-in customers were few. That left me with lots of time to fill so I began reading. Mr. Mac had many books and, no surprise, they were about locks and security systems. Also not surprising, many chapters in these books were about how to open locks when you didn't have the keys. There were even helpful pictures and illustrations.

I learned about pins and tumblers. By studying the helpful illustrations, I used the key duplicator to grind out my first lock picks. With little else to keep me occupied I tried my hand at following the book's directions to open the different locks we had in the store. Turned out I had the touch. In less than a week I was able to pick every lock in the store almost as quickly as if I had a key. I ordered other locks for the store and made a nice display for them in the front window. I chose locks that were more of a challenge but even they weren't insurmountable since I had plenty of time to practice.

Spring came around with nicer weather when I had an epiphany. See, I was doing my laundry one Saturday, feeding quarters into machines. There was a large, steel box bolted to the floor against one wall that took bills up to twenties and spit out quarters. I hated feeding that damned machine with my money. My money nest egg wasn't going down like it had when I'd first moved into town but it wasn't going up either.

I was leaning against the washer waiting for the last spin cycle to end. Just minding my own business and seeing but not paying much attention as one person after another fed that damned machine with bills. The laundromat was close to campus and was pretty busy. One person after another... Bills kept disappearing into the steel box... All those bills just piling up inside that steel box... All that money... Hmmm...

I moseyed over to the door. That brand of lock... Four pins... Not much of a challenge. I can open that... Huh, no alarms on the door... Cameras for insurance purposes only in case someone slips and falls but no other security... No infra-red or motion detectors anywhere as I looked around without seeming to. I knew the lock of the steel box required a special circular key. Very hard to pick but... Huh, Mr. Mac has a key ring with several circular master keys locked in his safe...

I promise I was just occupying my time at first. Solving a mental exercise while waiting for my clothes to dry. I'd been here early some mornings and had seen the owner of this place come in to empty the steel box of bills and re-fill the quarters. All that money was left in the box at night. Little to no security. I guessed the owner thought the thick steel door of the box was enough. Hmm, I'd never noticed the owner coming in on a Sunday morning. Why bother to empty the box if the banks are closed? He was probably in church. It was a large steel box and held a shitload of quarters. So, that box probably collected bills from Saturday morning to Sunday night. All those bills just sitting there...

I knew the combination to Mr. Mac's safe. He'd opened it often when I was near. I had the keys to the shop.

Are you really surprised if very early Monday morning, I was dressed in a large, bulky raincoat and floppy hat. Picking the lock to enter the laundromat when there wasn't any traffic near, I slipped inside. The heavy lock on the steel door popped open on the third key I tried. Quarters were poured into a book bag. More money from the soft drink and snack machines. Minutes after I entered the place I left with a thick stack of bills in my pockets and a very heavy book bag on my shoulder.

After counting the take in my apartment, I did a victory dance. Over 2,000 dollars! I'd started as a thief. Then I became a whore. Now? Baby, the invisible thief was back! I felt like I'd come home. I went to work early and replaced the keys into the safe.

Over the next several months a minor crime spree broke out in the small shops I cased during the day after work. I bought a crap car to enlarge the range of stores and laundromats I could case. My cash nest egg grew nicely. But, it wasn't just money I was after. Makeup, clothes, cigarettes... Different stores gave me different takes. It wasn't long before I ran out of room to put things in my small apartment.

I went apartment shopping just before students returned for the Fall Semester. I found a great apartment and a landlord who knew what I meant when I asked if there was anything I could do to 'help him out'. Cleaning, sweeping the hallways, maybe 'something else' I could do to get a better rate on the rent? I became an 'assistant landlord' and my only duty was to make the landlord happy once or twice a month.

Okay. Okay! I was whoring again. But, damn! It was a fantastic apartment that was still within easy walking distance of the university and work. You have any idea how much apartments rent for close to a university? Even thieving I could never have afforded the rent. But, with just a few hours in my bed or on my couch a month? Shit! The rent I paid to my happy landlord was less than for the small efficiency I was moving from! Far as I was concerned my whoring was a no-brainer. I'd done a whole lot more for a whole lot less while in high school. Besides that, I was fucking horny! I hadn't had sex in months! My landlord was a pretty good guy. He never dropped by without first calling ahead to schedule a time he could get happy. He had a little control issue so it didn't take long to put a smile on his face.

My landlord had a habit of bringing a bottle with him. His favorite was rum. We'd have a nice time in bed then I'd make a couple of rum and cokes. We'd sip while resting on the bed. It was usually a three-drink wait before his cock was hard enough for round two. He'd leave soon afterward. I'd be left with a half-full bottle of rum and a bad taste in my mouth for all things sexual.

With my knowledge of locks opening my vistas of thievery to new levels, I began to notice that stores with high end merchandise all had alarm systems. I decided I needed to learn about security systems. How did I learn? Simplicity itself. I convinced Mr. Mac he should offer his service to install security systems. He thought and agreed to give it a try and I began to order systems. I made a nice display and signs informing customers of our new sideline. Mr. Mac actually got a new business and I got a raise in salary.

I also got direct connections to sales representatives of these companies. Sales reps who were only too happy to answer all my questions! Only so I could answer questions from customers of course...

If the power is out will the system work?

If telephone lines are down does the company or the police get an alert?

How do motion/infra-red sensors work?

ETC...

I had oodles of questions and an army of men and women tripping all over themselves in their desire to answer them in the hopes that I'd order more systems from them. The scope of my predations increased.

But then I ran into what at first seemed an insurmountable roadblock. Able to disable security systems let me break into very upper-class houses and businesses. But the takes from these never seemed to make the time casing the joints worthwhile. Why? Safes!

Son-of-a-bitch! What was the use of knowing how to get to the damned safe if I couldn't open the damned safe!

I needed to learn about safes. But how? The answer was obvious. If I learned about locks and security systems at a place where locks and security system were, then I needed to work where safes were. A quick computer search and I knew that a large percentage of safes sold and installed in the US and Europe were made by a company that had a plant in Wisconsin. Every type and size from wall safes to bank vaults were manufactured there.

My nest egg had grown to be larger than what I'd had when I'd run away. I gave Mr. Mac my two-week notice pleading a family member who needed help and I was on my way to Wisconsin in my junk car towing a U-Haul trailer filled with loot behind me.

A Building in New York City... The Present...

God, I was filthy! My skin felt clammy from old sweat and concrete dust covered me from helmet to shoes. Lowering and powering down the drill, I spit dust from my mouth. I'd uncovered the first of the half-inch rebar. I wasn't strong enough to use bolt cutters to snip that much iron. I traded my helmet and face shield for darkly tinted goggles. The acetylene tank I had was not full-sized but it weighed a ton and held enough gas to do the job as I climbed the tubular scaffold. After igniting the torch it took barely a minute to cut through the rebar. The hole in the ceiling was large enough to push my arm through and into the safe above. After all these months, I had a part of me inside the vault!

Humming, I climbed down and started the drill. I was singing as I turned the wheel to raise the drill:

We're in the money,

We're in the money.

We've got a lot of what it takes to get along!

Rambo joined in on the next verse:

We're in the money.

Come on my honey...