The Security Guard
Amos slid a CD into his stereo and sat back while the machine ate, digested, and
began to play. He tipped his chair back and balanced precariously, occasionally
looking at the bank of video screens before him. Amos felt lucky, he had been
hired as a security guard during the Christmas season, and management like the
job he did so well, he was hired on a full time basis.
Yeah, right, he thought to himself. He was simply the token black dude,
the only black employee in a store filled with 38 employees. He was certain that
the only reason he was hired was because he was locked away in the small
concrete office, where the average rich white guy couldn't see him. Amos didn't
have to like it, to take home a substantial paycheck. He just listened to his
music and checked out the sweet-assed tail wandering through the store. Theft?
Sure, there was theft, the store was full of light fingered guys and girls, some
were his acquaintances. Who cared? If they needed the shit, they could have it.
He knew how it was. Of course if they threatened his sweet job, they were going
down. He didn't know them well enough to give up 800 per month and a 10 percent
"Security, please keep an eye on isle 13," a voice came from behind his
head. He slammed the feet of his chair down on the floor and turned to press the
"What's up, Mikey?"
"Two guys with a sack. One is blocking while the other stuffs the bag. Get
Amos didn't like the manager, Michael B. Cox Jr. He had been a classmate
back in '98. Now he was a manager? Who's ass had he been kissing?"
Amos changed the view of the closest camera, while drumming on the desk
with his left hand. He had to drop the camera to the limits of it's range,
before he caught a glimpse of the two thieves. He started the video and sat back
watching. He was practically looking down into the bag from directly above. He
got some really righteous video of the bag being stuffed to the breaking point.
"Got it," Amos said slapping the button on the intercom.
"Ok, come on down and give me a hand," Mike said as he left his own
office, far above the store. Amos sprinted down the hallway and followed Mike
down the stairs. They intercepted the two guys as they were leaving the store.
One struggled, the other ran. Amos tackled him just outside of the store. His
face hit the pavement. He heard murmured complaints from the gathering crowd.
"What the hell are you doing?" A fat man in a trenchcoat growled, about to
reach for Amos.
Amos held the thieve's hand behind his back as he stood and turned him
toward the store.
"Touch me, you fat fuck, and I'll break your fucking face. Get out of my
way," he growled to the crowd gathering before the door. Mike put tie-wrap
around the second boy's hands, then pushed both toward a bench near the front
door. Gloria, a fine looking redhead, was scooping up the spilled, stolen loot.
She had a great pair of legs, the kind you'd like to lick for hours. They were
peaking out beneath a short store uniform skirt. She made the uniform look
"Let me help," Amos said, getting a good look at Gloria's panties as he
did. They gathered up the stolen items and handed the bag to Mike, who glowered
at Amos. He had seen Amos looking under Gloria's skirt, and he didn't like it.
He had personal interests in Gloria.
IN THE MEMBERS SECTION