Brief Encounters

****The following story is fiction, and all characters are over the age of 18****

The Thief

The sound of a dog barking alerted me. It was two houses away. The small neighborhood had three dogs. A Doberman at the end of the street, a pomeranian, and the house that owned the barking dog had a pit bull. I paused what I was doing and turned to the window. I narrowed my eyes into a slit and watched for anyone walking down the sidewalk. I glanced at my watch, and the mailman was right on time. It was a little past 9 am. The middle-aged, thin mailman climbed the steps with my eyes watching him like a hawk. I was able to see him, but he was not able to see me. He fished through his giant sack, brought out a handful of mail, and tucked it into the mailbox. He scanned a box and left it on the chair on the porch; then, he walked down the three steps of the stairs.

When the mailman disappeared down the street, I returned to what I was doing: cracking a safe. I had been a thief for about five years since I was 15. My parents had money, but they rarely shared it with me. My older siblings got most of the money. While my brother, Jarred, got a new car, I had to go work my ass off at a shit retail store and endure a period of toxicity to buy myself a car. It was a beat-up 2004 black Toyota Corolla. It did its job, though. When my sister, Claudia, got a new laptop for college, I had to go to work and make some extra cash to buy myself one. I was the youngest, so I got the hand-me-downs and the neglect. I needed to get out of the house. My mother and father always argued divorce was inevitable. It's why I turned to the life of burglary; I had to make extra cash to move out.

Slowly my fingers turned the knob of the safe clockwise, and then I heard a click; I had finally unlocked the safe. I opened the door and began searching the safe's contents. The only person in my family that I loved was my Uncle Jerry. Jerry, the second, is my father's older brother. He had nothing, but he appreciated everything. He taught me everything I know. What helped me even more with the modern security tech was working for a security company. There, I discovered the security systems' failsafe and weak points. Uncle Jerry was also the only person I had come out to in my family. He didn't care; he loved me for who I was. The day I finally left this part of town would be challenging because of him.

The safe contained a few valuable things: jewelry, cash, important documents, and a handgun. The last item struck me. I knew the couple that lived here. They moved in five years ago. During the 2020 election, they put Biden/Harris stands on their lawn. The couple was young in their early 30s. I recalled a conversation with them about them being against guns, yet here I was, staring at a handgun. I grew up in my neighborhood all my life, and people started to die off or move away over the years. All these homes were built in the 1920s. Many of the residents had been living here for decades. Now, all the young millennials were moving in. My father always complained about them, but I wouldn't have to hear it much longer.

I grabbed the wad of cash and looked through each bill carefully with my gloved hand. No traps. It was rare, but people did put traps in their money sometimes. I grabbed the cash and stuffed it into my briefs. It was always an excellent place to hide money. I closed the safe and went to the drawer across the bed, which held up the couple's 55-inch television. I opened the top drawer and found the man's clothing. It was his underwear drawer. Steven, the husband, was a good-looking guy. Tall and thin, with an athletic build. The hair on his body was barely like a peach. The man had a nice butt too. Carefully, I looked through his underwear, moving around socks and pairs of boxer briefs. Unfortunately, I found nothing in his underwear drawer. I moved to the other drawers and found nothing. I looked at my watch, and I was running out of time. The security system blocker was going to run out of juice soon.

Quickly, I went to the wife's drawer. Her name was Miranda. She was charming and always made delicious cherry pies--but nothing was in her drawer. I returned to Steven's underwear drawer and looked for a nice pair to steal. The man only wore boxer briefs and trunks, but I remember seeing brief lines in his shorts once. After a thorough search, I pulled out a gray pair of briefs and stuffed them into my shoulder bag. It was time to get out.

I quickly scanned the room to ensure nothing was out of order. Then, I went to the living room to see if anyone was walking by outside. It was clear. I went to the back door, put my hoodie over my head, and wore sunglasses. I opened the back door and stepped out, then reactivated the security system remotely through my device. I walked across the lawn and jumped over the back fence onto the alley.

As I approached the end of the alley, I removed my hoodie. I turned onto the sidewalk and headed north. My house was a 30-minute walk. I was used to walking due to all the walking I did before a car.

I crossed two blocks of neighborhoods and entered a park. Walking through the park, I noticed something from the corner of my eye--a group of guys. I turned slightly to see who they were: Jack and two friends. Jack was my bully from high school. I looked forward and increased my walking speed. I could hear voices from the group; they were coming for me. It had been two years since we graduated, and this guy still continuously harassed me. I went from a jog straight into a run. I needed to get away from this loser and his friends.

Safety was on the horizon as I saw the train track arms go down, which meant a freight train was coming. I continued to run out of the park. As I approached the end, I collided with something. Instead, something collided with me. I fell to the ground hard. A body was on me; I turned to see it was Thomas--my high school track star. There was no way I was going to run him out. The other two arrived out of breath. Thomas stood up as Jack stood over my body; he grabbed me by the shirt and lifted my thin body off the ground. Jack was on the football team in high school. He was a muscular man. Jack held me up by my shirt; my feet hovered over the grass by a few inches. "Why are you running?" he said to me.

"Running from your pertred stench," I said sarcastically.

Jack's pale face flashed red, and then I felt his fist in my gut. I lurched forward and groaned. He dropped me to the ground as I cried out in pain. It was a good thing I hadn't eaten anything. Jack squatted over me, "You think you're funny?"

"I'm a fucking comedian," I forced a grin. Jack was a piece of shit that was going nowhere in life. It's why I was never afraid of him. Jack grabbed my shoulder bag and held it up, "This is a nice bag I'm going to borrow. I'll give it back..." he paused. "Maybe in a few years when I need a new one."

Rage filled me, and I lifted myself off the ground. I lept towards Jack but never made contact. Thomas' lightning-quick reaction grabbed me from the waist and held me back. Jack stood inches from me, "You think you can swing at me? With those tiny arms of yours?"

"Fuck..." I began to say but was interrupted by another strike to the gut from Jack. Thomas released my arms, and I brought them to my stomach. I hunched over in pain; then I felt hands in my pants. Jack grabbed the waistband of my briefs and tugged on them. He pulled so hard the wedgie lifted me off the ground, and I fell onto my stomach. The three guys laughed as they walked away.

I lay on the grass in pain from my stomach and my ass. I thought to myself, "Who the fuck still does wedgies?" Slowly, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the trees. I heard the roar of the freight train; I felt the rumblings of the heavy vehicle as it drove by.

"I loved that backpack," I said to myself. I need to get it back. Not only was my stuff in that bag, but so was the pair of briefs I stole. "I need to get it back."

I got to my feet and went home.

My parents weren't home when I got home, which was good. Quickly, I went to my bed and pushed it aside. Underneath my bed was a panel of the floorboard that I used to hide my stash of money. I had accumulated a significant amount. I just needed a bit more, and I could finally leave. I wasn't even going to say anything.

After I stuffed away my money, I took a shower. Thankfully, the wedgie hadn't caused any scrapes. I put on a new pair of briefs and a shirt, then lay on the bed. Staring up at the wall, I began to recollect any information I had about Jack's house. I had no idea what security system he had, and I had a weaker signal blocker. But I would have to get pretty close to activate it. There were no dogs, which was good. His mom worked in the afternoons, which meant it would be a later heist--the only piece of the puzzle of what Jack would be doing then. I needed to find out more.

I took a nap, which allowed for more time to pass. I planned to do it tonight.

When I woke, I put on a pair of black pants, a black shirt, and then a blue shirt over it. As it got darker, I would have to do things stealthily. Hopefully, Jack would leave for the afternoon. It was just past 4 pm; the sun was going down.

Across the street from Jack's house was an abandoned home. The place was shut down a few years back for housing a secret meth lab, which threw the entire neighborhood for a loop. Jack's neighborhood was a quiet one, and cars rarely passed. The streets were well-lit, but where it wasn't lit, it provided perfect darkness. Right behind Jack's house was a major freeway with a large wall. A large grassy area would provide ideal cover between the house's back fence and the freeway wall.

I walked on the street across from Jack's house, occasionally staring at it. The only lights on were the porch light and the light to his bedroom next to the porch. The driveway was vacant, which confirmed that his mother was at work. The two shared the car. I just needed to get Jack out of the house.

I did a U-turn on the sidewalk and walked down the cross street. The grassy area behind Jack's house was fenced off, and barbed wire was on top. I looked around and saw no one outside. The area next to the fence was quite dark. I removed my blue shirt, tucked it into my bag, and knelt beside the wall. Using my wire cutters, I began to clip the bottom of the fence, just enough to slide my slim body through. Once again, I looked around and saw no one; I slid under the wall and crouched to the back fence of Jack's yard.

The plan was simple: I would break in and take the bag as soon as Jack left. Hopefully, it will be a less than ten-minute job. It could be longer if he had a security system. I looked over the fence and saw only the porch light on. The back rooms were dark, which told me he was still there. I climbed the wall and sprinted to the back porch. Slowly, I approached the back glass sliding door and saw something surprising. It didn't have a security sticker. Sometimes, people had stickers on their back sliding doors. I opened my shoulder bag and took out my security scanner. I held my scanner an inch from the wall, waiting for the beep, but none came. There was no security system, which was surprising. I had to do things the old-fashioned way.

I grabbed the sliding door handle and tried to turn it but failed. It was locked. I put the scanner away and brought out my lock pick. It had been a while since I had to lock pick a door. I was about to put the needle in when the light in the kitchen turned on. Quickly, I backed away from the door. I had to hope that he wouldn't come out. Underneath me was a window. I heard Jack talking, but I wasn't sure what he was saying. I had to disappear for a moment. But as I moved along the wall of the house, I accidentally bumped into a trash bin. I immediately froze.

"The fuck was that?" I heard Jack say. He approached the sliding door with a hand on the handle, waiting to come out.

My heart began to beat faster. I couldn't get caught.

The sliding door unlocked; he was about to step out. If he did and looked my way, I would be seen immediately.

Another noise came, but it wasn't from me. We both turned our attention to the source: a cat on top of the fence. Jack cursed, "Stupid cat!" his hand left the handle and walked back into the kitchen. Relieved, I waited for him to leave. I didn't hear the sliding door lock, which was good. Let's just hope he doesn't remember to lock it.

Jack cursed again, "There is no milk! What the fuck, mom!" He groaned and locked the back door, "Guess I got to go buy some."

This gave me the opportunity I needed. Since he didn't have a car, he would have to walk to the 7-Eleven down the street, which was at least a 25-minute walk. There's plenty of time to break in and take my stuff back.

It took Jack about five minutes to leave; when he did, I waited an additional five to ensure he didn't return. I stuck the needles into the lock and began to jimmy it. Thankfully, I still had my skills because it unlocked after a few tries. I slid the door open and slowly walked through the dark house. From the kitchen, I entered the living room and entered a hallway; the first door to my right was Jack's room. The wooden door squeaked open to show a dark room. The only light came from the street light outside.

Without wasting a second, I began to look through Jack's belongings. First, I checked the bed and found nothing. Next, I checked his drawers, bottom to top. When I reached the middle drawer, I saw his underwear drawer. It had a few pairs of boxers and boxer briefs, but to my surprise, I found a few pairs of briefs underneath it all. It was shocking because I never thought of Jack being a brief wearer. Heck, in high school, he would tease me for wearing them. He had a few colors: black, blue, red, gray, and white. Despite finding this secret, my bag or underwear was not in there.

I looked underneath his bed and found nothing. I turned my attention to the closet next to his bed. It had to be in there. I opened the door and, using the flashlight, pushed aside his hung clothes and found nothing. I found folded bed sheets at the bottom of the closet, which I removed to find a box with a lock on it. It had to be in there, but why would he lock it in a box?

Using my needles, I attempted to open the lock. After a moment, the golden-colored lock unlocked. I removed it and opened the box slowly. My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped open. Inside the metal box was my bag, as well as other things. Pictures of me! I went through the pictures and saw each of me at school and other public places. I knew in high school that Jack was in a photography class. Was Jack obsessed with me?

I put the pictures aside and saw a folded piece of gray underwear. It wasn't the pair I stole; instead, it was a pair of briefs Jack had taken once after a wedgie. I remembered the day very well. Right before graduation, we had gone to a pizza place to celebrate. He was there with his stupid friends. I went to the bathroom, and he had gone in with me and given me a wedgie so hard that it ripped my briefs right out of my pants. I remember bleeding from that event. I could've sworn he had tossed them in the trash. I looked through the briefs and saw a bit of blood.

Underneath the underwear was a small notebook. I opened it and began to read its contents. They were journal entries. Journal entries about me! Jack wrote about his feelings towards me in detail. He mentioned what I wore, and on the back of the page, he wrote some sexual content. Jack had a colossal crush on me and wanted to have sex with me! It started to make sense, all the shoving and wedges. The man was a closeted homosexual. It's why he kept harassing me after high school. The irony of the whole situation was that Jack was a pretty good-looking guy. He worked out and kept in shape; he wasn't bulky, but he had an athletic build. If he weren't such a jackass, I would like him.

I read through some more journal entries. Each had dates that went back as early as the first year. It was funny to see Jack's writing progress over the years. He got more detailed and more expressive; he could be a writer--an erotic writer, for sure. I had to admit I was getting aroused reading the sexual content. He was eager to pleasure me. Worship me. A word that I saw repeatedly in his sexual writings.

A journal entry caught my eye. It was dated a month before graduation. It told of him wanting to confess his feelings for me, but he was still with his girlfriend. Not wanting to come out gay at the end of the school year, he suppressed his feelings for me, only for them to resurface on the day of graduation. That entry ended with a very detailed sexual fantasy.

I closed the notebook when I heard the keys at the front door. I put the stuff back into the box and closed the closet. I had nowhere to go, so I slid underneath the bed and waited. I heard footsteps after the door opened and closed. A dark figure entered the room and flipped the switch; it was Jack. He had on gray sweats and his varsity jacket. I watched him from the shadows as he walked around the bed to his dresser, and then I saw him walk to the closet. He opened it and saw the boxer with the open lock to the side. I had forgotten to lock it.

"What the? I swear I locked this," Jack whispered to himself.

He knelt beside the box and looked through the contents. It was my opportunity to leave. Slowly, I slide myself out from underneath the bed towards the door. When my body was about to leave the bed, my phone vibrated against the wooden floor. Jack shot to his feet and looked over the bed. Our eyes met, "Shit!" I spat out.

I got to my feet and ran out of the room, aiming to reach the back door. Unfortunately, Jack gave chase and, without any effort, grabbed me. He pushed me against the dining table. "What the hell are you doing in my house, Dylan?"

I tried to break the hold, but Jack held his arms tight around my chest, locking my arms under his. When I refused to answer, Jack lifted my thin body into the air and tossed me onto the ground. My butt landed hard on the wooden floor. Jack stood over me, anger on his face. I pulled back my right leg and drove into his left leg. Jack bent over in pain as I got to my feet. The front door was locked, so I went straight into his room. As soon as I entered, I turned around to attempt to close it, but Jack managed to get to the door, and with one hand, he stopped it from closing. He was strong.

Jack pushed open the door, and I fell onto the side of the bed. Before I could react, Jack grabbed me by the shirt and held me against the wall, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

I couldn't think of an excuse. It was the first time I had ever gotten caught breaking into a home. I let my curiosity over Jack's obsession with me cloud my senses. Then it hit me. Jack had one hand free. I grabbed it and brought it against my bulge. Jack widened his eyes and stepped away, "What the fuck was that?" he spat out.

I smiled, "In one of your journal entries, you said you wanted to rub my bulge."

Jack's face grew red, but not from anger. From embarrassment, "You read my journal? Is that why you broke into my house? Who told you about my journal?"

For the first time in six years, I had something over Jack. The strong man looked weak and frightened before me. It was great. "No one. I broke in to take my bag back. Finding out about your little obsession with me was a bonus. I'm looking forward to sharing a secret with your two friends."

Jack grinned, "No one will believe you."

I grinned back, "Actually, I took some pics. Made sure your room was visible for recognition."

His grin became brittle, then a frown. "What do you want?"

"Just my stuff back."

"Fine," he said under his breath, looking down at the floor.