Cash And Carrie
by Legion


Mitch Santori hated malls.  He most especially hated malls when - as 
now - he found himself trying to find a parking space within the miles 
of concrete parking lot that shimmered with midsummer heat and winked with 
the aluminum and glass of thousands of cars, trucks, minivans and motorcycles 
that denied him a place to bring his ancient, beat up Volkswagen bus to 
sputtering rest.

But... it was his nephew Kenny's birthday. Little Kenny, seven years old
today, knew more about computers and gadgets and electronic toys than Mitch
likely ever would. Mitch had placed an order for birthday toys through a web
site called ThinkGeek.com, for a few nice little toys: a plastic robot modeled
after a character on a sci-if/comedy cartoon; a game controller; a small,
flexible robot action figure with LED lights in its hands and feet... but the
toys were back-ordered, and wouldn't arrive in time.

So here he was, sitting in resigned exasperation in his aged and rapidly
heating WV bus, resolving to find two or three good but inexpensive toys in
the modern Mecca of conspicuous consumption. And there was no place to park.
Mitch Santori hated malls.

Carrie Tedecki sat on the small black leather couch, content to watch the
crowds of shoppers as they passed. Some noticed her kiosk, wondered briefly
what product or service she could possibly offer when the only thing in sight
was an inexpensive but tasteful podium atop which sat a small hardbound binder
next to a cash register and debit card processing system, and all of this
under the wings of a sign that advertised only, "Carrie's Clips & Trips."

A few offered bemused but polite smiles, a few waved, but the majority simply
didn't notice... and that was all right with Carrie. Dressed as modestly as
she was, her "service" might still garner a few complaints from the overly
sensitive, but that's why she maintained an extensive and thorough knowledge
of the mall's vendor guidelines as well as any and all municipal, county,
state and federal regulations under the purview of which she could ever
conceivably find herself. It was all by the book. Not to mention, she
reflected, running an idle hand up her firm, tan thigh to the cuff of her
shorts, mighty damn comfy.

But today, someone noticed - and apparently had no complaints about what he
saw. An older guy, she could see, at least 10 years senior to her tender age
of 22, and a big fella, too - six foot two, she guessed with an expert eye,
between 220 and 230, and not much of that was unnecessary padding.

Warm brown eyes returned her appraisal - a handsome face, she decided, and she
badly wanted to just abandon professionalism, walk right up and ruffle his
short yet somehow-still-unruly black hair.

Instead, she flashed her most welcoming smile, crossed her legs demurely, and
began to bounce the calf of her top leg; a subliminal invitation no leg man
had ever refused. And Mitch Santori, a leg man from the cradle and probably to
his grave, would not be the one to break that streak. Gazing at the five foot
nine, firm, youthful blonde, he muttered, "I love the mall..."

Mitch paused, entranced by the vision of loveliness that smiled back at him
from the couch. "Uh... hi." he opened.

"Hi, there." She added just the barest hint of a wink, hoping it would draw
him in...

And it did. "So, um..." he fumbled, clearly trying to hide his confusion.
"What do you sell here?" He scrutinized her sign again, still trying to puzzle
it out. Haircuts? Travel agent? What the hell could "Clips ‘N' Trips" possibly
mean together like that? Failing to come up with anything, he shrugged and
proffered those guesses.

Carrie giggled, and shook her head. "It's a game." Off his look of even deeper
bemusement, she continued. "How much money are you carrying on you right now?"

His eyes narrowed, his arms crossing over his chest - a bad sign, and one
Carrie didn't want to allow to settle in.

"If you win the game, I give you twice what you bet."

His eyebrows climbed as his lips formed a wry smile. "Oh, really."

"Mm hm."

"And? If you win?"

"If I win, I keep your bet, of course." She repeated the fake wink and threw
the calf bounce back on for good measure. "And I just really enjoy playing the
game." Something faintly predatory came through the word ‘enjoy' that she
hadn't intended to let slip through, but - amazingly - it not only didn't send
him running, as she suddenly feared it might. In fact, it drew him harder than
the wink and the leg bounce had put together. This one was a latent
submissive, she realized, and now she knew how to pull him in just where she
wanted him.

Rising from the couch, she placed her hands on her hips, squared her
shoulders, pinned him with eye contact, and ordered, "Take out your billfold
and hand it to me."

Unable to look away, eyes now wide with shock, he began to stammer - but she
cut him off: "Do it now."

"Y-yes, Ma'am." A tanned hand disappeared into a back trouser pocket, returned
with a roughened black nylon wallet stuffed fat with $20s, $10s and $5s. His
fingers nervelessly let her take it from him, and only too weakly and too late
did his voice of reason protest.

Carrie took the wallet, and thumbed first through the slim plastic of the
card-holders. "Mitch Santori," she noted aloud to herself, then looked up.
"Good Italian name. Who are you shopping for?"

"My nephew. It's his birthday, day after tomorrow."

Carrie paused amidst counting the bills, her expression turning thoughtful.
She wanted to play with this man. She didn't want to rob a little kid of
birthday presents. But... she wanted to play... "I'll tell you what." She said
after a moment's consideration. "If I win, I still get your money -- but you
and me, we'll find your nephew his birthday presents together. And I don't
skimp on birthday presents."

Mitch smiled a little - hey, guilt free, right? Good thing, too. He was never
much good at trivia games. "Okay, you got a deal." He relaxed, smiling. "Let's
play. What's the first question?"

Carrie was momentarily confused, then burst into laughter.

"What?"

She got hold of herself, but it took a knee-slapping, gut-laughing second or
two to do it. "This..." she let the laughter trail off, then tried again.
"This isn't a trivia game, Mr. Santori."

Now it was his turn to be confused. "Then what -- ?"

"It's a game of endurance." She corrected him. "If you can get me all the way
to the Food Court from here, then you win, I bring you back here and give you
your money. If you can't get me down there - all the way down there, mind you
- then I win, and I get to buy your nephew his birthday presents, and - "

He gulped, then cleared his throat nervously. "And?"

She grinned like a shark, "I get to give them to him. There's about $200 here.
Probably more than you meant to spend, but since you won't be the one spending
it..."

"You... wha... give to..." Mitch couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then he
realized - what did she weigh, about 130? Maybe 140? Piece of cake. He
chuckled. "Yeah, okay. You got a deal. Let's play."

Her grin brightened and her eyes lit up. "Okay! Turn around." She stood
expectantly as he did as instructed, obviously having no idea of what was
coming. He figured it out, though, when he felt her weight hit him as she
stepped off the couch to wrap her arms around his neck and her thighs around
his midsection for a piggyback ride.

He managed a surprised, "Ungh!" before his arms came down and braced under her
thighs to take some of the strain of supporting her weight off his neck and
rib cage. He was surprised and more than a little aroused at the feel of those
arms and legs - while she'd been seated on the couch, he'd thought they looked
firm. Now, feeling them, he found they were hard, muscle groups bunching and
relaxing rhythmically under tanned, silken skin.

"So this is all I have to do, huh?" he smiled, hoping she'd unlock her ankles
now that he had her braced firmly under his arms. "Just carry you down to the
food court? And you'll triple my money for that?" His smile as he asked this
felt to him as fake as it looked to the grinning counter girl at the shop
across from Clips'N'Trips, and a cold thrill of simultaneous exhilaration and
fear shot down his spine. Mitch had loved to be scissored - starting with his
babysitter when he was twelve, then ex-girlfriends, dancers at clubs... he'd
even hired a tall, shapely escort to do it the one time in college. And now
here he was in the leggy grip of a woman who could probably give him the
scissor of his life, or at least he could pretend she was, and this one would
pay him? But there was fear, too, because no woman he'd ever coaxed into
scissoring him had been as well-equipped to do it as he was discovering Carrie
to be, not even the dancers who'd left him sore and wearing ear-to-ear grins
for days.

"Well, more or less." Carrie giggled into his ear. "Less talking. More of
this." With that, she confirmed his hope and his fear simultaneously,
straightening her legs and punching in on him just hard enough to make good on
her demand for less talk. "Now here's the real challenge, big man." She
pointed ahead and gave an extra little pulse of her thick, ropey adductor
muscles to indicate he should start walking, then continued, "With every shop
we pass on the way to the Food Court, I'm going to squeeze a little harder. If
I touch the ground before we get there, I get your money. If not, then you
win, I carry what's left of you back to my kiosk and give you six cold, crisp
Benjamins. That isn't going to happen, though." She gave his ear a sweet
little kiss. "Okay. Move it." She eased up on the hold, and off they went.

The first store they passed was the Lady Footlocker. "Hi, Carrie!" a voice
called out as the legs around Mitch tightened their first notch. "Got another
victi... I mean customer, huh?" Laughter rolled from a small, waifish blonde
of perhaps 17 years.

"Hold please." Carrie whispered into his ear, and he stopped, feeling the
comfortable snugness of her limbs wrapped around him. She turned him toward
the girl.

"Hi, Cait!" she urged him toward the counter. "This one's a rich bet, too.
$200 says he doesn't make it." Carrie snuggled her cheek against his neck.

"Mmmm, I dunno..." the girl cocked her head, weighing his size and build.
"He's a big boy, and that ain't chump change he's playin' for."

"Yeah, you might be right, Cait. I might have to really lay it on him."

Mitch felt himself stiffen in his jeans, hearing this and feeling the warm
bulk of her arms and legs cinch a little tighter around him, her breasts
pressing against his back through their clothing.

"Oh my God..." Cait gasped, staring.

"What? What's going on?"

"Um, Carrie - " she pointed at the growing bulge as Mitch's cheeks flushed a
deep crimson - "I think this one likes that idea!"

In response, she cinched the hold down another notch, compressing Mitch's
sides a little tighter, and spoke into his ear. "Is that right, sweetie? Well,
you can like the idea all you want. Come on, next stop. See ya, Cait!" The
girl waved, her blue eyes twinkling, as Carrie aimed him back out into the
concourse and onward to the next set of shops.

And now, as she punched down still another notch with her legs, he started to
understand the very real nature of this challenge. His breath was labored now,
and he was only two sets of stores down, with four to go.

Their next goalpost turned out to be a GAP, where the lanky but
plainly-sinewed black girl stocking shirts near the door gave a yelp of
delight.

"Another lucky challenger!" she bubbled.

"Cait thinks this one will give me a run for his money, Shawna." Carrie pulled
him up short by the neck, cutting his breath even further as a dull ache rose
in his sides. "What do you think?"

"Huh." Shawna gave him a critical eye up, then down, gave his solar plexus an
experimental poke with one long finger. "Maybe. He's kinda rugged, y'know?"

"Shawna!" someone called from the back.

"Gotta go." The girl sighed. "Stop by on the way back and tell me how far he
got."

"You know it." Carrie waved, then aimed him out the door.

Mitch was starting to feel just a touch of anxiety as they approached the
border between the GAP and Nordstrom's - but he couldn't give up, and wouldn't
slow down. He figured the best way through this would be, well, through it.
Just keep going, drive straight on through, and -

The second they passed the border between the two stores, those iron thighs
closed down another notch. Now his breath came shallow, and he had to work for
it. And his member was tenting his jeans obscenely; people were staring, and
he couldn't tell if it was in admiration - he'd like to think that was it - or
plain slack-jawed shock, which he feared was more likely.

"Holy shit, Carrie, you got a ragin' stiffy under you!" a sultry female voice
called out, followed by a tall, raven-headed amazon whose muscular development
nearly scared Mitch straight to death. "And look, there's a man attached to
it!"

"Gina!" Carrie squealed, squeezing Mitch brutally in her excitement. "Oh my
god, why haven't you come to see me?!"

The older woman looked down at Mitch. "Didn't want to scare away your
customers, sweetie. But I'll come see you just as soon as I pick up some
things. We got a couple new toys at the gym, you should get your little butt
out to the coast some weekend. You, Becky and me, we'll all have a girls'
night out, it's been so long since we've seen you and Becky misses her ‘little
sister' a ton. Me, too."

"Well, I'll be back this way sooner or later." Carrie eased up on Mitch's
aching sides a little. "Are you gonna be here for a little bit?"

Gina looked thoughtful. "I've got a better idea. How about I walk with you?"

Mitch's eyes bugged out comically; he grunted, "As long as... I don't have
to... carry you... both..." Both women burst into laughter.

"It's a game, sweetie, not an execution." Carrie reassured him.

The two women chatted as they passed milestone 4... then 5. By now, Mitch's
ribs had graduated from ache to rage, and his vision started to blur. His
muscles were numb, rubbery, and his erection had long since subsided.

Carrie had been right - the idea of being scissored in the warm, smooth thighs
of a gorgeous woman was unbelievably sensual; this, though, the actual
experience... He'd never hurt like this in a woman's embrace. Ever.

His mind began to close down like an iris, his entire world narrowing to a
single brilliant pinpoint. The width, breadth and depth of his being resolved
into a single mechanical movement:

Pick up your foot.

Move it forward.

Put it down.

Over and over again, with a maelstrom of burning and dizziness and darkness
swirling just outside the stark eye of this single, dumb motor command
sequence, he moved. Every step was an eternity of suffering outside this
pinpoint, and the pinpoint was fading away.

Now he was alone, moving toward an objective he could no longer identify,
unaware of where he was, what he was doing or why he was doing it. And now he
didn't even know his own name. The pinpoint vanished, darkness rolled over his
mind like the tide at sunset, and he hit something cold and hard.

Something warm and soft hit his cheek, lightly, and his head was gently
shaking.

"No... nothing broken. He should be okay, just need to bring him around. Hey.
Hey, Mitch, come on back to us. Hey."

He gasped, his eyes flying open, and sucked in greedy lungfuls of precious,
sacred air despite the dimming rage in his sides. His senses began to put the
world back together for him; he was lying on his back on tile flooring under
bright lights. He turned his head, and saw the orange and white neon sign of
an A&W restaurant, as well as half a dozen faces - some concerned, some angry
- staring down at him, at the two women. "How many on me?! Ass end of a truck
smack!" he slurred, still half out of it. He coughed, sputtered, then sat up,
pressing a hand to his side before wincing and pulling it away. "Did I win?"

Carrie's and Gina's shocked faces told him there was a reason to hope he had.
At last, Carrie nodded.

"Holy shit, you mean I'm not dead?" he climbed to his feet, which weren't
entirely ready to support him, grabbing the chair just in his reach and
pulling it closer to sit down. "Could've fooled me."

"You almost fooled us, too." Gina laid a hand on his shoulder. "You were out
almost two full minutes."

Carrie giggled, but this time it had a panicky, almost hysterical quality to
it. More faces were joining the crowd, curious expressions turning to concern
and consternation as whispers and murmurs flew between them.

Mitch suddenly felt bad; not for himself, but for Carrie. Turning to the
crowd, he raised his arms, smiled brightly and announced: "I won! I won!" The
sour expressions reverted to confusion again.

"You were playing a game?" a teenage boy in a basketball jersey and a
ridiculous haircut asked suspiciously.

"Yep! And I won!" Mitch heard a few muttered. "Oh."s and "Huh."s, faces
turning away.

"What is it, kinda like ‘Fear Factor'?" the kid asked, looking more interested
now than upset.

"Exactly." Gina spoke up. "And this guy just won himself a fat handful of
cash. Come on, Mister Santori, let's go get you your money." Seeing that
Carrie was still shaken, Gina bent at the waist and easily scooped the
unprepared man into her arms, cradle-style.

"Way to go, dude!" the kid called out as they turned away.

"What are you doing?!" Mitch demanded in the lowest voice he could manage.
Carrie managed to keep up with them, regaining her composure.

"You won." Gina opened. "The deal, if you won, was that Carrie would carry you
back to her kiosk and pay you your winnings. Except I think you scared her a
little going out on her like that, so we're doing a little substitution."

"But... what... she meant she was going to really carry me back?!" They passed
milestone 5, and Gina paused.

"Well, this is part of your winnings." She said, slyness to her voice. "Now,
if you don't want your winnings..."

"Okay! Okay!" Mitch relented.

"Good. Now, up we go - " she pulled his torso up, pushing his legs over, until
he was draped over her right shoulder, his head hanging just above one
magnificent skirt-clad ass cheek and his legs braced in the powerful grip of
her right arm.

As she walked, he watched. Watched the gigantic, inhumanly powerful glutes,
hamstrings, quadriceps and calves below him stretch and bunch, and with every
step he thanked a God he hadn't believed in in years that it had been little
Carrie and not this terrifying giantess that had been running the game. The
mental picture he had of the last five minutes grew more hazy and uncertain
with every step she took.

At milestone 4, Carrie was almost back to her old self. "Okay," she tapped
Gina's tricep. "I can handle him from here." Although Mitch couldn't see
Carrie's outstretched arms behind him, he could feel them as Gina reeled him
up her back and one of those arms caught his legs, then the other caught his
torso as the younger woman took the handoff.

"Oh, hey." Gina took a folded sheaf of papers from her purse, thumbed through
them until she found a particular one, then reached around Carrie to tuck it
into the back pocket of her shorts. "You'll need that, if you don't have any
already. You can get copies online if you need them, but he needs to sign that
one."

He could feel Carrie draw breath, maybe to ask what it was - then she stopped
and a faint smile painted her lips. She nodded. "I'll call you, Gina." With
that, she turned and started back toward milepost 3, cradling him in her arms
like an infant, the improbably sight drawing stares, a nod here and a smile
there from adults where children turned their heads, called out taunts at
Mitch or just hooted with laughter.

Shawna was standing outside the GAP as they approached and Carrie set Mitch on
his feet, then stood close in front of him and ordered him to climb on for a
piggyback ride of his own. Mitch complied, the size difference somehow even
more jarring to him. He felt like an elephant climbing onto a unicycle.

"He won?" Shawna stood agape.

"Yep. I can't believe it, but this man might be literally too stubborn for his
own good." Carrie walked over to Shawna with two hundred plus pounds of man on
her back as easily as if he weighed nothing at all. "He's gotta be feeling
pretty lucky." She craned her neck to look up and over her shoulder at him.

"Lucky to be alive..." Mitch offered, then thrust the pain in his sides back
out of sight and mind.

"How much did he bet?" Shawna asked, beaming up at him.

"Two hundred."

The girl blew air through her teeth, eyes wide, then gave him an impish look.
"You like the GAP, don'tcha?"

"I might stop in and look around," Mitch said politely. "but I have birthday
shopping to do first. Is there a Toys'R'Us in this mall somewhere?"

"Oh. Yeah, I better get him back to Clips'N'Trips, Shawna. We've got birthday
presents to buy."

Shawna waved as they departed.

"We?" Mitch wanted to know.

"Two sets of eyes are better than one." Carrie pointed out. "Besides, I've
already lost four hundred bucks today, and I don't want to start a losing
streak. Or bust anybody up trying to prevent one." When Mitch didn't consent
right away, she added, "Look at it this way: you'll be performing a public
service."

Cait, too, was astonished to see Carrie come to a stop before her counter,
allowing Mitch to drop back to his feet before she knelt on one knee and
invited him to climb onto her shoulders.

"Oh, I don't know about - " Both Mitch and Cait stopped as they discovered
they were sharing the same sentence. Cait scanned rapidly, left to right.
"Okay," she continued, seeing no shoppers in sight. "Go for it."

Mitch still wasn't convinced, though. "Look, I think that's... you know, if -"

"Someone's coming!" Cait urged. "Get on now!"

Hoping it would work a second time, Carrie used her Domme voice on him: "On my
shoulders. Now."

With his stomach sinking to add to the general discomfort he was already
suffering, Mitch reluctantly complied, and felt her fingers encircle his
wrists like iron bands. Then he rose... and rose... and rose, until he could
stare straight down at the part in Cait's pretty platinum hair and the
overhead lights were uncomfortably close.

The conversation with Cait was much the same as it had been with Shawna -
shock, incredulity, then admiration. At least Cait didn't try to hustle him
into buying womens' shoes.

When they finally reached Clips'N'Trips, Mitch waited for Carrie to release
her vise-like grip on his wrists and set him down. Instead, she ordered, "Hold
still." And that tone was still in her voice - he didn't know why he responded
to that the way he did, but all his reason could offer was the suggestion that
she might be about to do something that he wouldn't be able to pull off unless
he did exactly as she said. And so he held still.

Her fingers released his wrists, and her forearms folded up under his thighs,
then braced there, palms under him and fingers pointed outward. Then she
instructed: "Arms out to the side." He obediently extended his arms, palms
down, like wings. "Good. Now. Breathe in..." he inhaled. "Breathe out..."
Exhalation. "Breathe in..." Inhalation. "Breathe out..." The breath left him
as she pushed up with her arms, ducking from under his legs, and straightened
her own legs to drive him up overhead and hold him there.

His mind was blank, his breath caught in his chest and his limbs stiff with
raw adrenaline.

"Breathe in..." Inhalation - slowly, and in starts and stops, but here it was.
"Breathe out." Again it went piecemeal, but smoother now. "Okay up there?" she
asked, after it seemed he'd regained control.

"This... is amazing." he managed. He looked around now, his heart still racing
but his breathing deeper, more controlled. Soon, though, he could feel her
arms begin to tremble under his weight.

"Okay," she sighed. "Show's over. On the count of three, I want you to extend
your legs as I bring you back down. One... two... three." She stepped
backward, giving her arms a forward thrust to keep him stationary as gravity
took over and his legs straightened. He caught his balance perfectly this
time, then turned to see her run her forearm across her forehead, glowing with
exertion and an overall look of... he couldn't quite say. It was just a look
of someone who's just been having a good, healthy dose of fun, and the look
was contagious.

"Hey," she said, after a minute's consideration. "I've got an idea."

Little Kenny's birthday party was a stunning success. He loved the presents -
an Xbox360, complete with two wireless controllers, a wireless network adapter
so he could play online with his friends, and a slew of games. He loved the
kid sized leather bomber jacket - although dad Mike and mother Janine were
dubious as to how long that would last - and he loved his future aunt Carrie
probably most of all.