Two men in expensive Mafia suits struggled against duct tape wrapping their bodies. A short distance separated them, but there was no hope of moving an inch to get help from the other. Mummified with tape and left in upright sitting positions, their shoulders banged against a wall of metal computer cabinets behind them. Hundreds of surrounding rack mounted CPU cabinets created a maze of narrow pathways. The men found themselves lost in the deadly center portion ruled over by the labyrinth's deadly minotaur, standing before them - and her name was Dixie.
They both surely knew they had more than screwed up. Their occasional double takes and looks of confusion on their gagged faces seemed to show that they just didn't know how they messed up so badly. How had it come to this?
"Stop hitting the thingy-thing-ma-bob wall thingy!" yelled Dixie, a tall blonde bombshell, aiming her anger at the hoodlums. She huffed. "Can't you see I'm trying to hear?"
A yoke of a child's pink plastic stethoscope hung from her ears. She unbuttoned her blouse a bit more and pressed the listening end a few times against different places on her bosom.
"Say it louder!" she yelled down at her pillowy breasts. "I know it's hard for you to hear me. It's noisy and these two assholes won't stop banging things." She pressed the pink stethoscope's diaphragm against her left breast and then her right.
"What!" she yelled in protest. "Don't you two talk to each other? Gees." She let go of the pink flexible tube letting it nest in between her boobs as she squeezed them together. The blouse and bra struggled to contain her modesty as she lifted her buxom heft up a bit pressing the two volumes closer and closer, deepening her already notable cleavage. She cringed when her arms began to tire while she waited a few more seconds.
She looked down into her deep central valley between her two smooth rolling hills - mountains actually. "There. Now can you two just agree for once?" She gave her arms a rest, letting her bosom bounce down into her bra.
The two gunmen stared at each other then back at her. Their faces showed their conclusion and then their disappointment in themselves. Once again their eyes should how they just asked themselves: but how? How had they let a complete wacko woman capture them?
Dixie looked up at the two men. "Stop looking at me like that! You look like you're judging me. I hate that!" She squeezed her boobs together again. "Can't you see Lefty and Righty are having a hard time hearing each other as it is?"
The faces on the men contorted as they struggled to think with the constant noise from thousands of spinning harddrives and whirring fans and pumping climate control systems. The blondie had taken a tactical advantage even though she didn't seem to have the cognitive skills for it at all. Maybe that was her power. There were no real thoughts in her head that the constant din would interfere with. Her empty mind left her immune to the room's cacophony.
The guys returned to twisting their shoulders trying to free their arms. She had taped both men with the deft handy work of a dominatrix. They both looked at each other again as if they had the same thought. They silently questioned it. But no. Dominatrix? Her? She didn't seem the type. Then again...
Dixie pressed the little horn end of her silly pink stethoscope to the top of "Lefty." She then moved it over to "Righty."
Both men sighed, loathing themselves as they struggled against layers of duct tape.
She stared down at her boobs as she lifted them and then angrily let go giving herself another wonderful bounce.
The two men helplessly stopped their struggles long enough to enjoy the view as her heft's jiggling finally settled.
"Fuck you two," she said, listening to her stethoscope. She looked at the guys, "and fuck you two too." Back at her boobs, "You want a scan! I'm here with two guys and bunch of loud machines with a bazillion little flashy reddy greeny lighty thingies. What more do you need to know!" She paused. "Ok, but I get to blindfold them first. What do you mean there is no time?" She stomped her right high heeled shoe and pouted, "There's always time for a blindfold! I'm not a hooker!" She flashed a look of disgust at the two duct taped men.
Whatever she was thinking made the men want to escape even more. The way she held her eyes scared them. She had that Fatal Attraction look. The guys knew then that other men on dates with her must have wanted to run away as well. Those previous guys probably never got tied up though. They were lucky. In short, they had been allowed a chance.
She pouted as she pondered something about the men. The crazy blonde looked like Marilyn Monroe's younger bustier sister - just a bit dumber, if that were possible, but then again Marilyn was said to be smart, separating her persona from real herself, but the hoodlums understood in their guts that Dixie was just dumb.
The suited thugs kept a close eye on her, no longer spending all their thoughts on the shape of her ass as she paced, but more on escape. It was her appearance that gave her an advantage over men in general. Anyone would underestimate this one. And certainly for that one unforeseen second that led to their present predicament, they did too.
She glanced at the wide-eyed men as they scooted back, pressing their sitting pose harder against the computer racks.
"Fine," she said to her chest. She began unbuttoning her white silk blouse and pulling the shirttails free from her tight black pencil skirt waist.
The men's startled looks led to a more relaxed fascination.
She then reached behind under the back of her blouse and popped her bra. Her breasts lifted and jiggled, returning to their perfect pyramid built out position as she freed them. Her arms struggled with the bra shoulder straps and then she realized she'd have to take her blouse off entirely, which she did with an angry fling, throwing her garment to the floor.
Her dainty hands cupped underneath her perfectly round orbs, lifting them just a tad and, oddly, aiming them.
