The Protégé

A companion story to Cadence Prowl's Pursuing the Posh

 

Part One: History

 

My name is Shawn, and if you've followed the adventures of Cadence Prowl, then my name may ring a bell. I am the same person she has both given guidance to and playfully humiliated in one of her stories. That said, I possess a deep admiration for her and her talents, and matching her tenacity at accomplishing the perfect theft is something I've come to strive for.

 

After this past escapade, my mentor has appeared to gain a bit more respect of my development, to the point of inviting me to tell my side of events in her take Pursuing the Posh. I am more than happy to do so, but be warned reader: my fingers talk even more than my mouth does! So do set aside some time of you're ready to indulge in my narrative.

 

First, let me shed some light upon my background:

 

I was born into an upper-middle class family. My father is a successful accountant, while my mother has become a high-ranking staff member at the local hospital after many years of service. I am the second of three children, with an elder brother and younger sister. Have you heard of the so-called "Middle Child Syndrome"? I am the living embodiment of that, constantly competing with siblings who overachieve in both academics and formal events equally. And they've certainly gained favour with my parents in doing so.

 

Not to say that I'm an idiot in comparison; I've certainly applied myself in my studies, and have received respectable grades as a result. I also consider myself to be quite literate....I much enjoy writing, and rarely is there a day goes by where I don't have a fiction book in either my pocket or backpack, as any proper introvert would have.

 

Where my siblings and I vary, at least in our upbringings, are our social skills. Whenever our collective family would attend an event involving high society, I found that I'd fight a losing battle against two natural, outgoing characters for attention; a wallflower versus a duo of social butterflies, if you will. And while my parents did make a concerted effort to balance their pride and affection among their trio of children, it would be painfully obvious (to me) whom would receive the most glory by the end of each gathering.

 

I don't mention this out of self-pity. Instead, it is to state that there is always knowledge to be gained from even the most humbling of experiences. For it is at one of the suaréz that I first dipped my toe into the waters of pickpocketing!

 

My first lift occurred at the age of 15, and I was in the midst of reading "Oliver Twist". While immersing in the chapter where Fagin is teaching Oliver the technique of stealing handkerchiefs, the inquisitive portion of my mind pondered how well I could pick a pocket. The mere concept of it tickled my burgeoning devious nature. So with another formal event on the horizon, I vowed to myself to try and successfully lift an item from someone's pocket - any item, for I was a simple novice after all!

 

As the evening of the party arrived, the circumstances started as normal: introductions, small talk involving personal activities, and so forth. After this stage usually came the moment where I'd be left to my own device. Unlike past scenarios, where I would be dreading this inevitable reality, this time I was awaiting it with a quiet eagerness. In fact, even at this tender age, I had the forethought of devising a strategy of achieving my task, while not separating my presence in the crowd with suspicious behaviour. I brought with me a notebook and pen, and would jot down short notes as I watched people acclimate in the festivities. Anyone who'd ask about my reasons would be told that it was ideas I was considering for an upcoming school report.

 

In truth, I was documenting potential targets while using a special code. For example, I spied Mister Saunders tuck a gold-painted lighter into the right-side pocket of his suit jacket. So I wrote "M - Sau - RSJ - lgtr - 6/10" to indicate who, which pocket, the item, and the probability of success of theft. (His was on the slightly higher side, due to him leaving the flap of the pocket tucked in, allowing for a foreign hand to reach inside.) For any female marks, I simply switched the "M" to an "L". I compiled a list of ten people in about twenty minutes, and swiftly chose Mister Sims (M - Sim - RSB - flk - 9/10) for the flask poking quite precariously from the right back pocket of his trousers. I noted that he was already intoxicated, as his speech was slurred and he struggled to maintain his balance.

 

When the time seemed just right, I arose from my chair and positioned myself close to the drunken elder. I didn't have to wait long for a distraction; a passer- by bumped into his shoulder, making him stumble into me. I held his back with my left hand while I punched the spout of the flask with the middle and index fingers of my right. As he straightened his footing, I slid the item out and casually secreted it into the pocket of my blazer. It felt surprisingly heavy, I'd say it was at least three quarters full! For a brief moment I anticipated him noticing it's absence from his pocket. But he didn't...when he turned to face me, he gave me a clumsy shake of my hand and a barely coherent "thank you" before trudging away.

 

Upon attaining this, I excused myself for the outdoors and some air. My entire body shook, the rush of the lift captivated my entire being. As I increased my steps, I found there to be a cement walkway circling the house. There was a soft glow from the home's windows that provided adequate illumination, and just off of one corner a garden was adorned with stone benches to sit. I took a seat and pulled out my new acquisition, admiring it as well as the way I had taken it.

 

My silent victory was short-lived, for a moment later I caught the sound of footsteps approaching me. I stood back up sharply as I pocketed the flask once more. I sensed the steps belonging to a woman, as it seemed to sound like heels against the hard surface, and I also heard the light swish of fabric that suggested a long dress. Confirming my theory as I tried to keep my composure, a feminine voice broke through the night: "Hello there. Aren't you a wee bit young to be drinking that?"

 

I leaned in to get a better view of the approaching figure, expecting to be scolded by an adult. However, it was a young woman about my age, standing in a rose-pink satin dress that hugged the curves of her body. She wasn't thin, but certainly not overweight either; her height and outline of her form suggested that she was athletic on some level.

 

"What do you mean?" I finally stammered, a hint of nervousness in my words.

 

" Oh..so that wasn't you whom I saw filch the flask from my uncle's pocket then? " She took a few steps closer, hands behind her back, in the form of a school teacher admonishing her students. "And if I were to frisk you, I certainly wouldn't find that same flask in the pocket of your blazer, would I?"

 

Her sarcasm and confidence alone were enough to deflate me. I cocked the left-side of my jacket towards her, slipped a couple of fingers inside that pocket, and tapped the metal to confirm that it was there. She let out a gentle laugh, and came up close enough for me to see her face; her skin was slightly darker than the average Brit, and I surmised she might be of Mediterranean descent. This attractively brazen girl then plucked the flask from my pocket with a movement more fluid than water in a stream.

 

"Don't fret, I'll keep mum about all of this. Truth be told, I had my eye on this meself." She unscrewed the cap, placed it upon her lips and thrust her head backwards, swallowing a healthy amount. Leveling her face after injecting whatever was in there, she grimaced and declared, "Oh Christ, what is this swill?" I chuckled as she took a second, more modest full while seating herself on the bench. She tapped the spot next to her, inviting me to sit as she said, "My name is Josselyn, Josselyn Coconis. And you are -"

 

" Shawn. " I sat beside her as a brief, awkward pause followed.

 

"Shawn...just Shawn? Are you one of those weirdo celebrities like Cher or Madonna or Bono who has no surname?"

 

" Why, yes! " I responded with a sly grin.

 

Josselyn shook her head with a smile and continued: "Fair enough. Well, Just Shawn, what is it that made you nick this flask? You haven't touched a drop of its contents."

 

it is then that I divulged what I've just told you, reader. Despite my long monologue, Josselyn proved to be an apt listener, reacting to different details in appropriate fashion. As I wound up my history with events of that particular evening, my new acquaintance abruptly grabbed my hand and gasped, "Is that what you were doing with that notebook?! I saw you from a distance and wondered what in bloody Hell you were up to!"

 

I pulled out the folded notebook from one of my inside pockets of my jacket to show her my codes. After a moment's glance, Josselyn stifled a giggle. Then any semblance of composure turned into flat-out hysterics. She leaned into my right-side shoulder, resting her head upon it while laughing with the notebook in her hand. I repeatedly asked her why she was carrying on, and she eventually calmed herself enough to sit up, refold my notebook and return it to my inside pocket. She smoothed my blazer with rapid fingers as she put me in my place:

 

"Not to be rude, but I can tell this was your virgin lift! If you want to have some fun with this, then you can't be afraid to be spontaneous. Do you think your marks are gonna stand around and wait while you take notes on them? "

 

"No, of course not, but-" Josselyn covered my mouth with her hand before I could explain myself further.

 

"Listen, Just Shawn, you don't have to sell me on your enthusiasm or instinct to pick pockets. I know it's there." She removed her hand, knowing that I'd let her proceed. " I've been looking for a partner since I moved here with my family. And you're the first person I've met who's shown any inclination for using some light fingers to get what they want. Honestly, that lift was a cinch; my arthritic nana could have swiped this flask! But if you let me train you, you'll be astounded at what you can accomplish. So are you willing to be my protégé? "

 

There was a part of me that thought she was daft for asking such an arrogant question; but the other, stronger part found her bravado quite enthralling, and it tapped into the growing curiosity I'd been fostering for this skill. "Agreed. Shall we start tonight?"

 

" No. Me folks are here and privé to my delinquent behaviour. I must appear to be in top form for them. We'll start at school; the uniforms we wear are excellent for executing lifts! "

 

With that, Josselyn stood up and I followed suit. She started to adjust the chest portion of her outfit; I turned my back as to not embarrass her. She chuckled at my chivalrous gesture and remarked, "Showing respect for me already? We'll certainly get along just fine."

 

I laughed at her statement. Once she completed fixing her dress, I turned back around and extended an arm for her to take. She wrapped her arm around mine and we started our walk back towards the party. I soon felt the heft of the flask present in the pocket of my blazer. I looked down at it, then her. "Weren't you going to return this to your uncle?"

 

Josselyn shook her head. "I figure any pickpocket worth their weight keeps the first item they steal. Even if the lift was as sinfully easy as yours, it still counts! " She pulled the flap over the pocket, gave it a pat, then suddenly pressed her mouth near my ear. "And by the by, that WASN'T my uncle!"

 

This admission made me cover my face sheepishly, and Josselyn giggled with delight at my reaction. "You see? I was being spontaneous with you, and it worked like a charm!"

 

We soon approached the doors. "Speaking of charm," I started, taking Josselyn's hand and kissing it . This caused her to let out a mock gasp of pleasure. "I look forward to our next meeting, Miss Coconis."

 

She nodded and responded, "And I look forward to taking you under my wing, Mister Coghlan. 'Til we meet again." I opened the door for her, and she shot me a smile and a quick flip of her curly hair as she stepped inside.

 

It took a few seconds, but it suddenly dawned on me that she had figured out my surname! As I re-entered the house, it was on the tip of my tongue to ask her. But I discovered that she had already engaged in conversation with an entire group of people. Still befuddled, I took the same seat where I'd been before, soaking in the excitement of meeting someone so different and vibrant. Eventually my instincts told me to take inventory of what I was carrying. One item I'd had at the start of the evening was conspicuously absent: my wallet!

 

Of course, it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out who the culprit was! Sitting there, I replayed every moment of my time with Josselyn in my mind. I concluded that she must have done the lift after she had returned my notebook and fussed with my blazer. It was the only moment her hand was anywhere near that particular pocket.

 

Indeed, I received a non-verbal confirmation of this as people were leaving the gathering. I spotted Joss with her parents, and upon catching her eye gave an inquisitive grin; with raised eyebrows, I pointed towards the inside pocket of my jacket. She flashed a smile and caressed her leg, close to where her pocket opened. Her motion gave me a sense of x-ray vision, I could almost see my wallet nestled against her thigh.

 

That night started what would be a defining relationship in my life. For the next eight months, Joss and I spent a considerable amount of time together. It wasn't always easy, between classes, family and friends, having one-on-one sessions took some creativity to attain. But she was an excellent tutor, and she gradually taught me many of the ins-and-outs of pickpocketing while keeping our actions discreet. Her lessons always had a flow, where she would demonstrate technique on several types of pockets, what to look for in a mark's behaviour, the best and worst situations for committing a lift, and so on. After showing me how to perform a certain dip, she would have me try it on her. And she would be brutally honest, but her critiques would be constructive and show me any errors I was making.

 

When the time came where we both felt I was ready for some action, Joss started me on some of our classmates. Like any good teacher, she gave me easy items to pluck: pens, small notebooks, even notes with juicy information written on them from time to time. The blazers on our school uniforms had side pockets with no flaps, so just about any item would cause the pocket to bulge away from the owner's body. I soon found that simply brushing past anyone sporting this weakness in between classes was effective most times.

 

Upon graduating that level, Joss then had me target the teachers. She instructed me to watch their tendencies, spot where they kept personal belongings on a day-to-day basis. Doing this, I found that certain male professors kept their wallet or keys in attainable pockets to pick. And with Joss creating a distraction, pretending to inquire about "problems" she was having with the course material, I'd pretend to be listening in with the same issues, all the while relieving them of personal items under their very noses. Female teachers were easier; they kept their wallets in purses, and the two of us found a simple distraction was often enough to get them.

 

The crowning achievement was lifting the wallet of our headmaster. It occurred when the school hosted a fair as a fundraiser. Joss had showed me a trick to pick pocket using napkins, but because the headmaster was aware of her past indiscretions, she felt that any move she made would be sniffed out by him. So I took it upon myself to do the lift. We watched where he kept his wallet - inside blazer pocket - and I also noted a stain from tea spilled upon his lapel. I got an idea...I came up to him and made mention of the stain, and held up the napkins to offer assist to dry it up. He agreed, and as I mopped up the spill with one hand my other slipped inside his blazer. With all that movement of my two hands, he failed to notice me slip his wallet out and into the cover of the napkins I wasn't using. Completing my favour, I dropped the enveloped wallet into my pocket and wished him a good day.

 

Joss' reaction was priceless: after I had safely separated myself from the crowd, she came from behind and nearly tackled me while laughing wildly. "That was utterly brilliant! I was watching and thought for sure he'd catch you! Gimme his wallet! " She snatched it before I could properly defend myself and started rifling through the contents curiously. "We're returning this anonymously. I actually like him, he's given me some respect unlike my last headmaster. But this shows me that you're ready to do some real lifts...the ones that earn some profit! " I expressed disappointment at this, but was eventually convinced this was the right call.

 

Having gained her trust as a competent thief, Joss and I spared the occupants of our school and turned our sights on the public. There was a bustling city nearby with plenty of shoppes and even a mall. We would take turns on who would distract and who would dip. Sometimes there would be some improvisation, where the person dipping would slip the stolen items to the partner. These days would end with us gathering at Joss' house....we'd tally our loot and come to a fair disbursement of cash and goods. Generally I'd let her keep a little more, since pickpocketing was my way of thrill-seeking, with monetary benefits being secondary.

 

With this shared secret of pilfering between the two of us, something else was emerging: a growing attraction to one another. It started with my training, sometimes her hand would slide in a personal spot upon my body during a practice pick, or standing close to one another while positioning ourselves would cause momentary awkward laughter. As we got involved in group lifts, the intimacy between ourselves increased; we'd be cuddling with one another while simultaneously emptying each other's pockets, even stealing a kiss here and there as our frisky hands made sure all pockets had been cleaned out between us!

 

The pinnacle of our unorthodox courtship came one afternoon after a typical few hours of pickpocketing. We had both done well, nabbing several wallets and purses and securing them in large shopping bags. Upon entering Joss' bedroom, we divided our spoils as usual and started to fill our respective pockets with notes. My trouser pockets must of had significant bulges, for Joss made a cheeky comment of it: " Seems like somebody's got delusions of grandeur! "

 

I laughed out loud and responded, "Whatever puts a smile upon my face!" while giving my pockets a solid tap.

 

It's then that Josselyn looked me up and down, and took a seat at the edge of the bed as I continued to stand in front of her. "I'll wager that I can make that smile even brighter." She placed her hands upon my waist and pulled me slightly forward; her deep-brown eyes were penetrating , showcasing a "come hither" quality that was more seductive than I'd ever seen.

 

She gently slid first her fingers, then her whole hands, inside my front pockets. The act caused a wave of pleasure that shot my head upward, and I began to breathe heavily as her hands fluttered inside them teasingly. "If you're planning on pickpocketing, you've turned me into an easy target."

 

"No," she whispered softly. Her fingers glided past the money and along my inner thigh, caressing them nicely with the assistance of the lining. "There's something else in there that I desire to hold. " Her inference was clear, but before I could respond Joss' hands plunged between my legs and firmly grabbed hold of the arousal she had created.

 

I let out the first orgasm of my life, and placed my hands upon her shoulders as I started kissing first her forehead, and worked my way down her face and upon her lips. Her grip methodically tightened as I did this, and my stimulated organ was beyond throbbing when I leaned my body forward and tackled her on the bed.

 

We frantically started undressing one another. Having pulled her hands from my pockets - spilling money on the mattress and floor - Joss removed my shirt and unbuckled my belt, while my own hands expertly unbuttoned her smooth, cream-colored blouse and unzipped her skirt. One could count the passing seconds on two hands before we were both practically in the buff.

 

Joss then rolled us both over, where she was on top and had me pinned down beneath her beautifully fit body. The smile on her face was indescribable; she planted a long, wet kiss on my mouth before lustfully asking, "Is this your first time?"

 

" Yes. I'm thrilled it's with you, Joss. I've dreamt of this for some time. "

 

She winked at me. "Same here. Come now, let's celebrate me bringing you out of your shell." We locked our lips together as she guided me inside of her.

 

I should look upon this memory with fondness, even with a sense of a crowning achievement. Which I do....but added to that is a taste of bittersweet. For just forty-eight hours after losing my virginity, my parents uprooted me from this school and into an all-boys academy. You see, my grades had trended downward as I spent more time with Joss. I also incurred more truancies than allowed, and the headmaster soon put these two details together and sent a message to my parents. They weren't about to tolerate an underachiever in their family!

 

I was, naturally, livid with this decision; what teenager with raging hormones in the throws of a first love wouldn't? But in the end I decided to just make the best of it. Joss and I kept in touch via letters. She preferred this to e-mail, it was more private, and she liked the feel of them in her pocket; she stated that it was if a piece of me was there with her. We did this weekly for two months. In what would be her last letter, she mentioned a plan to set off the school's fire alarm as a ploy to sneak into the faculty room and raid all the pockets and purses she could find. I sent Joss three letters after that, one more pleading and desperate for news than the next, but all to no avail. At one point, I assumed she'd been caught and herself sent to some strict boarding school. It would be years before I found out about her outcome.

 

As for school, over time I established a balance between my studies and lifting. I had fine-tuned a specific skill, I wasn't about to give it up so easily! I raised my grades to a point where it pleased my parents, all the while proficiently picking the pockets of fellow students and, less often, teachers. Joss had inadvertently taught me confidence, and with this bonus I cultivated relationships where I was well liked without the burden of being overtly popular. Even more fortuitous, I discovered that my roommate, an unassuming lad named Thomas, had a penchant for picking locks. This tidbit of information assured me that I could conduct my covert activity without fear of reprisal. We did get along well, even dubbing ourselves "The Pick Brothers" in private conversations about potential heists.

 

While there were sporting events to keep us young men occupied on a casual level, most coveted were the dances held in conjunction with the all-girl school a short distance away. I, for one, never pursued any of the girls to date. Flirt with (to eventually lift something), yes, but the hangover of losing Joss was a strong and constant one. As fetching as many of them were, all seemed to pale in comparison to her charm, wit, and devilish will to commit unscrupulous activity!

 

 

It's at one of these dances that I first met Cadence Prowl. Of course, she accurately described our initial encounter in her story. I was immediately taken with her talents at thievery, not to mention her audacity to crash a private function. She showed me techniques Josselyn had never touched upon. Even referring to me as her protégé brought a smile to my face as we worked on form together.

 

I can even forgive what Cade did afterwards, at the pond. I've rationalized it as a lesson in never keeping your guard down! The lass I was with at that moment wasn't as forgiving, though! Aye, what a long walk back to school that was!

 

Upon completing school, I gained employment of an entry-level job as a manager's assistant for a company specializing in financial retirement planning. It's as mundane as it sounds, and I quickly realized that it's not the lucrative career as it was posed to me. After listening to one soon-to-be pensioner after another, squabbling over every last euro in their possession, I would be left feeling I'd been drained of a life with every day's end.

 

I had "retired" from thieving when I first entered the workforce, and for two years kept my nose clean. That's not to say that the temptation wasn't there! I recall one client whom I was assisting, left his suit jacket tossed on the back of a chair when he and my boss excused themselves to use the loo. Sitting visibly in his inside pocket was a very plump wallet. I had to resist every thought racing in my head telling me to snatch it. When the two returned, the client made light of it when he saw how exposed his wallet was: "Oh, look at that. I was inviting anyone who sees this to rob me! Were you thinking of taking it?"

 

" No, not me job. We leave that to the government, " I retorted, trying to sound humorous.

 

As time passed, I gained more solid footing within the firm, steadily gaining small yet significant amenities as a token of appreciation. One was a longer break for lunchtime. I took full advantage and frequented the nearest pub as often as I could afford, grabbing a bite while usually partaking in a pint of stout.

 

It's at this same establishment that my passion for thieving was reignited. And it came in the form of a sassy waitress, whom deftly plucked the wallet from the back pocket of one of the older regulars frequenting the place. Seeing me witness her prank (for she returned the wallet shortly after), she grinned, winked her eye and put a finger upon her lips. Like a siren's song to a wayward sailor, I was once more eager to participate in the game!

 

These midday escapes also lead to a rather pleasing moment. For shortly after my rebirth, I was treated to an act of serendipity: I was once more in the vicinity of Cadence Prowl herself!

 

 

End Part One

Done