Goldie's Locks and the Three Men

by Liz Adams

  A rush of adrenaline flooded her. The anticipation of doing the job thrilled her. She was about to risk setting off alarms. She was about to risk getting caught. Her heart pumped at the excitement. The crusted layer that solidified over her while she was in San Francisco cracked open. Though she missed Christina, staying with her would have hardened Goldie’s soul completely, as though Goldie had faced Medusa and turned to stone. Yes, being a thief was a crime. There was no denying it. But Goldie needed this. She needed the thrill of the crime.

  As Dusty’s shower progressed, she was granted the ability of detecting the difference between the water and Dusty. The center of his body changed color, changing temperature, from burgundy red to a hot, bright scarlet. Especially at his crotch. His hand stroked his cock. The outlined colors were more erotic than any image of a man she’d seen before.

  The adrenaline kicked in at a higher gear, that rush of fear she usually got from the chance of getting caught. She didn’t understand why she felt the fear. There was no reason for it since she was hiding on a mountaintop out of sight, in the darkness of night wearing dark clothes. Her heart beat faster, her breathing deepened. She swallowed as Dusty’s hand pumped faster. When her nipples hardened, she realized it wasn’t fear she felt. Watching Dusty was as exciting as the thrill of the crime.

  Looks like I’ll be opening two safes tonight.

  Holding the binoculars with one hand, she slipped her other hand down the front of her pants, into her panties, and found the place between her thighs that needed to be opened. The pad of her fingers dialed around and around until her body clicked into place.

  Dusty pumped with a fervor, his fist and cock color changing from tangerine to gold to white. It was a shame she couldn’t help him out. Why didn’t he get a girlfriend? He had the body any girl would desire. What did he do that was so dangerous he couldn’t be with a woman? Were they criminals like her? That would explain it. If they were criminals, building relationships would be risky. It’s why she left Christina.

  Goldie became mesmerized by the hot colors at Dusty’s crotch. Poor boy. Looked like he needed ample attention daily. Maybe too much attention. Could get a pussy sore.

  She felt her finger slip inside herself. Not this kitty. I’d probably be too wet to ever get sore.

  A male voice on her headphones said, “Is that heavy breathing?”

  She dropped the binoculars, slapped her free hand over her mouth and froze. No one could hear her, could they?

  Discovering her microphones were still directed at Ace in the living room, she slipped off the infrared lenses and looked at Ace through her binoculars. He scowled, concentrating on listening to the sounds on his headphones.

  Goldie held her breath.

  Ace didn’t move.

  At last he said, “Probably the wildlife.” He set down his headset and turned off all the equipment.

  ***

  The three of them had left the mansion. Ace, Dusty, and the butler had driven off in a limo.

  It was time to move and collect the money she needed for the doctor. Goldie had spent three weeks scoping out the mansion and the three inhabitants, so she was pretty sure she could get past the security system without a hitch, though that monitoring device Ace had been using left her baffled. It wasn’t the only thing baffling. Sometimes Dusty and Ace disappeared down in the basement for hours at a time. Were they scheming to rob a bank? Were they art thieves discussing their next heist in the basement? Or did they have their own dungeon to play sexy games? Who knew what they were up to down there? As for what they could afford to lose, Goldie had seen enough to determine they could cover the doctor’s fees and then some.

  The security started with a gate topped with barbed wire. The gate surrounded the entire estate. Beyond that lay a camera system pointed at the front grounds with heat-sensitivity and motion sensors set to alert someone, probably Ace, if any mammals were detected. Once set off, a light show Las Vegas would be impressed by would turn the local area into daylight, flooding the estate with 3,000 watts of buzzing filaments. At the door and windows lay dormant magnetic switch high security alarms ready to scream if opened.

  Only one weakness to the security system, one spot not rigged with sensors, cameras, or alarms.

  On the hillside, she found the strategically positioned tree and climbed. Using the grappling hook launcher, she fired the line to the roof of the three-story mansion. The hook caught on the base of the weather vane. She tied the other end of the rope to a thick tree branch and slung her duffle bag over one shoulder. With one end of the line taut atop the roof of the mansion, she attached the pulley and slid across the rope to the top of the mansion. She landed, released the pulley handle and rolled, all silently.

  Now to get in. The mansion had a chimney. Though she was much thinner than Santa Claus, no human could get through that narrow chimney opening. What was the alternative? The mansion had been fitted with state-of-the-art solar panels and a round living room skylight.

  Using a glass cutter, she etched a wide circle on the skylight glass. The glass cutter’s blades made a slight crunching sound as they punctured tiny holes into the glass. She removed suction cups from her duffle bag. Pressing the suction cups onto the plane of glass to remove was the tricky part. Pushing too hard would push the glass down into the building. With these suction cups, there was a lever that applied the suction so that she didn’t have to put too much pressure on the glass. Once the cups were affixed to the glass, she pulled up with a firm jerk. The circular pane of glass popped right out.

  Leaning down from the roof into the living room, she sprayed forensic fog spray to highlight the lasers she guessed right would be there.

  A loud jarring voice sang, “Money, that’s what I want. I want money, yeah, money. That’s what I want.”

  Her cell phone jingled the doctor’s ring tone. Damn! She could have sworn that she’d turned off her phone. How could she have made such an amateur mistake? She chalked it up to her mind being too busy worrying about her mother. Her mother had succeeded in fighting the inner battle to divorce her father, now her mother had another battle: ascending aortic aneurism. If the hospital didn’t replace a piece of her mom’s heart soon, a fatal tear could rupture the heart causing blood to leak. Only a rare and risky surgery could save her mom.

  It was the doctor. She had to answer it. She reached to click her Bluetooth device in her ear, but it wasn’t there. At least she had the sense to prepare by removing her Bluetooth, she just didn’t turn off the cell phone. She pulled the phone from her duffle bag and answered.

  “Simmons here,” she said quietly.

  “So sorry to bother you at this hour, Ms. Simmons, but I’ve arrived in LA and my wife says the check you promised wasn’t in the mail today. I just wanted to be sure you mailed it. I understand that your mother is ill and requires a good surgeon, but there are other surgeons here who can help you, ones that may partly be covered under her health plan.”

  “No, Doctor Johnson.” She ground her teeth. It was Doctor Johnson or no one. “My Mom needs the best, and she’s not covered by any health plan. I’m getting the funds together as we speak.”

  “Alright. I’ll give you until tomorrow. I cannot stay in LA long.”

  “Of course. I understand, Doctor. I’ll wire the money to you tomorrow.”

  The phone clicked off. The forensic fog spray had filled the room. From her position leaning into the living room, she could see the rays of all the lasers, crisscrossing the large room, from ceiling to a few feet above the floor. Suddenly, her phone slipped from her hands and dropped through the open air into the ballroom-sized room. That fall took a split second but felt like it lasted a lifetime. She watched helplessly as the device plummeted past the first, the second, then the third laser. The phone didn’t hit any of the lasers and landed on the carpeted floor with barely a sound. She breathed out in relief, then laughed to release the arousing adrenaline rush of nearly being caught.

  With a nylon rope tied
tight to the base of a solar panel and attached to an electric rope hoist, she threaded the other end down the same path the phone took. She positioned her body over the hole and repelled down between the laser lines. On the carpet, she pocketed the damn phone. With careful maneuvering, stepping over and crawling under the beams highlighted in the forensic fog, she reached the laser system on the wall and deactivated it as she had seen Ace do so many times.

  Now to the safe.

  The bedrooms were up the front stairs. Passing through the living room, she saw the monitoring device Ace had been using. Every second counted. Damn it all to hell, she had to see what that thing was. How could it detect her breathing?

  She sat at the display of computer monitors, and panels with knobs and buttons. She slipped on the headphones. They were set for a head bigger than hers, so she adjusted them to her size. Trying a few switches got the monitors on and some lights bright. One of the monitors showed a bird’s eye view of about a square mile of forest. Over the headphones, Goldie heard static. Unless she was mistaken, that section of the forest had been where she prepped just a moment ago to sneak into the mansion. Good thing she wore dark clothes and lay flat beneath a tree. He might have seen her. But there was no way a camera could have been positioned above where she had squatted. Not at that height. The only thing that could do that would be…

  Crap!

  She tested some dials and noticed the image on the monitor swept across the land, showing a bird’s eye view of the nearby city. Another dial allowed her to focus in on a bank. Two tiny dots moved outside the front of the building. They had to be the guards. This device Ace had was satellite control. No way. Ace and Dusty had satellite imagery access? Who were these guys?

  Goldie zoomed in to the bank guards. The headphones buzzed into a discernible conversation.

  “What do you mean?” she heard a man’s voice say.

  “She never gives me head anymore, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

  “Are you giving her a good enough reason?”

  “What, you want me to put chocolate sauce over my dick?”

  “I’m just asking if you eat her out? Give her a reason to want to blow you.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “You know, when they fix the alarm system next week we won’t get to chat like this anymore. I’m gonna miss your advice.”

  “Yeah, the double pay is pretty sweet. But you don’t need my advice. That chocolate sauce on the dick idea is pretty good.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  Goldie zoomed out back until all she heard was static. That bank’s alarm system was down until next week. Good to know. Where the hell did Ace get this thing? She wanted one.

  She fiddled with the dials and got the satellite to focus onto some neighboring house. All she heard were all sorts of evening slumber sounds. Mostly snoring. She stopped moving the image when she heard panting. It was a woman’s voice.

  “Oh, right there. That’s it. Yes. Yes!”

  “You like that?” Another woman’s voice said.

  Goldie raised an eyebrow.

  “Keep doing it,” A man’s voice commanded.

  Goldie’s jaw dropped. Too bad this thing didn’t have x-ray vision or thermal vision to see through the roof. The idea of having a threesome had her reaching between her legs. You’re here for the safe, she told herself. Now get to it. She took off the headphones and headed for the stairs.

  ***

  From observing the mansion for the last three weeks, a safe was likely to be in Ace’s room. Twice she’d seen him carry bundles of cash upstairs and return empty-handed. She favored his bedroom as the one which held the safe because he seemed to be the head of the household, the guy in charge, the type of guy who’d keep his priceless items close. As soon as she walked into Ace’s room, the scent of his musky sweat filled her. She liked it, but it was a bit too strong. Maybe if he were still on the bed it would be a turn on. As it was, the scent was more of a distraction.

  It was a three-exit bedroom. One hallway door and on the opposite wall a window on each side of the bed. The royal blue bed covers had a sheen, probably silk or satin. Above the bed perched a Monet painting. The safe wouldn’t be behind the painting. In all her years of stealing, she never came across a safe behind a painting. The most likely place for a safe would be in the closet. Opening the closet revealed nothing, just a highly organized selection of Armani suits and Allen Edmonds shoes. Could the safe be a small lockbox in a drawer? She searched the cabinets and drawers for any kind of safe she could find. No luck. Was Ace the kind of guy who hid valuables the old school way? She checked under his mattress.

  Hello! A Playboy magazine.

  She flipped through the pages. Just a few pics of naked women. His taste in sex was too soft. Goldie preferred something a little more hardcore.

  With a few more minutes of searching – under the bed, in the bathroom – Goldie turned up no safe.

  Very odd. It was unlikely for Dusty to have the safe in his room, and surely the butler’s room wouldn’t have the safe.

  Aha! Pretty clever. No thief would bother searching the butler’s room.

  So that’s where she went next.

  As she walked in she smelled cleanser and soaps. His smaller room was too clean. Goldie never liked the smell of cleansers. Soaps were okay, but she didn’t care what the ads said. No pine forest smelled like Lysol. Besides, the soapy smell was too girly. Too soft. The bedroom was a two-exit room with the hallway door and only one window beside the bed with its navy green wool blanket. She searched the room. Closet, cabinets, drawers, bathroom. Nothing. She tried under the bed.

  Hello! A BDSM magazine. The cover showed a naked woman bound and gagged impaled on a man’s cock.

  She was not expecting that from the butler. For all his obedience, this seemed a bit too strong for what he’d be into. It was certainly a bit beyond what she’d be into. Too hardcore. At least, not ever having had such an experience made it seem too hardcore, but the thought did do something to her nipples. Was the butler’s submissive role was his way of acting out his fantasies of being dominated?

  Searching the room further turned up nothing.

  Running out of options, Goldie went to Dusty’s room. An amazing cologne filled her lungs. She loved it! Like spices and musk. Out of all the scents, it was just right.

  She took a moment just to enjoy the smell of it. So good. Earthy, male, inviting.

  Okay. The safe. She tried the closet. Nothing. The cabinets. Nothing. The drawers.

  Hello! A Penthouse! She flipped through and saw erotic silhouette images, one of a woman’s nipple dripping from a man’s oral attention, one of the woman bending over with her mouth around the man’s cock.

  Goldie reached for her breast and squeezed. The images were so hot.

  She threw the magazine on the bed. Not now. Now was not the time. She returned to searching the room and could not find that safe.

  They did have a safe, didn’t they? They had to. She’d even heard them talk about it earlier in the day.

  I can’t just leave, she told herself. I need that money now. What to do, what to do?

  She played out all the possible scenarios in her head. Only one guaranteed discovering the location of the safe, and it just so happened to be the most deliciously daring scenario of them all.

  I’ll just have to wait until Dusty gets home. There’s the risk of being outnumbered, but knowing how sexually oriented he is, I think I can convince him to tell me where the safe is without announcing my presence to the others if I offer sexual favors. Besides, with a thorough search of their rooms it was clear none of them had weapons to worry about.

  She padded downstairs to the living room with her duffle bag, took out the remote to the rope hoist, and pressed the button on the remote. The rope that hung from the living room skylight reeled up. She stopped the rope from reeling in all the way, letting a bit of the inconspicuous line stay hangin
g in case she planned to get out via the skylight. Out of range from the lasers, she switched the laser alarm system back on. Now the three would come back to their mansion none the wiser that she’d been there.

  She sprinted back upstairs to Dusty’s bedroom. Her eyes fell upon the Penthouse magazine on the bed.

  Time to wait for Dusty. For now, I’ll just get myself prepped.

  She flipped through and found a sequence of images that portrayed Goldilocks and the three bears. Images of three men in bear costumes servicing a woman. She knew she could never go through with having a threesome in reality, much less a foursome, but this was a great pictorial fantasy.

  Goldie tucked her duffle bag underneath Dusty’s bed. She took off her spandex pants, long-sleeve compression shirt, athletic bra and panties, climbed into the bed, and enjoyed the magazine.

  ***

  “Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Once upon a time, Goldilocks wandered in the woods feeling lonely and was hungry for love.” The picture portrayed a woman sneaking through a forest wearing a bright red gown open in front to a yellow petticoat. She had one hand reaching out as if searching the woods, and another hand on her heart perhaps to convey she could be easily startled. That hand was more on her breast than on her heart, though.

  “She came upon a cottage, but to her disappointment, it was empty. The bed in one of the bedrooms was soft and inviting. She lay down and soon fell asleep.” One picture, shot from inside the cottage, showed her bending over peering through the front door of the cottage, and displaying ample cleavage. The next picture showed her lying face down fully clothed atop a bed, the back of her dress splayed upward revealing her modern Brazilian bikini panties and supple butt.

  “Goldilocks woke up to the sound of the front door opening and closing. To her surprise, three bears came into the bedroom. One of them said, ‘Someone’s been sleeping in my bed.’ ” Goldilocks sat upright on the bed, a flat hand over her mouth portraying surprise. The three bears were men wearing ridiculous bear costumes, the bear heads being huge round masks like those worn by football mascots. The coincidence didn’t escape Goldie. Here she was, lying in a stranger’s bed, waiting for three men to come home. No way would she have a ménage, though. That would never happen. She returned her attention to the picture. One of the “bears” had a paw over Goldilocks’ breast.