Like the back of a Volkswagon

You’re still in Beth’s ass, no longer thrusting, the proud piece of flesh between your legs wilting now, spent. You extend a hand downward and take Beth’s where it’s tied between her legs (seriously... how the hell did she do that herself?). She clutches back weakly, and you slowly remove tab D from slot A. You sink down so that your face is next to hers and kiss her tenderly on the lips. “Thank you Little Sister. That was amazing.”

She smiles back at you, “I’ve never trusted anyone else to do that, Jimmy. I wanted to give you something special.” She sighs contentedly, but then quirks her eyebrow. “Any chance you’d be willing to untie me... and cuddle for a while?”

You still have a couple hours before your plan goes into motion, and it’s not as if you were planning on just leaving her like this anyway. With a little direction from her, you have her mostly untrussed in a matter of minutes, but she insists on you leaving her wrists bound. With that you settle in for some serious aftercare.

About an hour of just gently snuggling later she has you undo her wrists, and you inform her that you need to “work” tonight and have to get ready. She watches with interest as you begin doing your makeup and brushing powder through your hair to grey it slightly. Years back you learned that when people remember someone, they tend to focus on one particular feature, and you apply that to your upper lip with a bit of spirit gum. A ridiculous handlebar mustache that matches your hair. Then it’s a matter of the grey uniform. The patch on the shoulder reads Securitas; the one on your left breast Jensen. An AirSoft pistol goes into the holster, and a grey watch cap goes onto your head. Beth just watches as you transform yourself into an aging security guard. “Hjalmer Jensen at your service, ma’am.”

You look at the clock on the nightstand, and note that you still have 45 minutes to get everything in place. “Wanna spend the night Little Sister?”

“Sure. I could use a hot bath, and as long as you don’t mind my alarm clock going off at Oh Fuck in the morning, I’d love waking up next to you.”

“I don’t mind in the least. Ok. I’ll be back in about an hour and a half.”

With a parting kiss you’re out the door, in your car, and heading up the hill to Miller Hill Mall, but more specifically to Members Cooperative Credit Union.

MCCU is in a smaller building across the Mall’s parking lot from JC Penny. It’s lit by a single lamppost, but otherwise dark this time of night. Perfect. You pull a sign from your back seat and slap it over the night deposit slot. Out Of Order. Then you pull a foot tall drop box out of your trunk and set it down just outside of the lamppost’s corona. You then pull out your phone, note that the holiday hours of the mall just ended about five minutes ago, and settle in to wait.

It’s a quarter hour later before the first pigeon pulls into the lot. She’s youngish. Early twenties. Wearing an Abercrombie jacket. Stuck up preppy bitch working for a stuck up preppy company. She sees the out of order sign before she sees you, and seems to be a little distraught before you clear your throat, causing her to jump, and possibly pee herself a little bit. “Evening Miss,” you announce in a gruff voice, “Dunno what them bank types did to the slot but they dragged me out here to wait for any night deposits. Money ain’t bad, but I’d just as soon be watching my grandson’s curling practice.”

You drawl that out in an exaggerated Iron Range accent, sounding for all the world like William H. Macy in Fargo, recalling a lesson you learned in New Jersey from an old Italian guy named Sammy Nine-Fingers. “People remember the character, not the face.”

She seems hesitant so you push on, “So you just drop yer deposit in this box... all locked up, see?” - You jingle the padlock- “And you can be on yer way.”

“How do I know this is real?” Miracle of miracles, you’ve found a mythical creature... a semi-intelligent A & F employee. You hand her one of the business cards you had printed last night.

“Call my supervisor. Ain’t like I’m in a hurry.”

She takes the business card and calls immediately. Eric is sitting in the Perkins on the opposite side of the mall nursing his coffee and waiting on just this call.

After being reassured by your “supervisor” she complies, slipping a blue locked bag into the drop box. This starts a chain reaction, applying another of Nine-Fingers’ theorems. He called it The Lemming Principle. People are more inclined to follow through on an act that they’ve witnessed someone else do. Secure pouches start finding their way into your box. You only need to hand out four business cards (proof of the power of the Affection Multiplier... last time you pulled this one you unloaded fifty cards), and forty five minutes later you’re taking down the out of order sign and getting into your car.