Chrissie flattened her back against the wall inside the warehouse listening to the lone pair of footsteps approaching. They walked noisily without caution, a good sign, she thought—they must not know they have a visitor.
She readied her pistol in her upraised right hand, though she wasn't planning to fire it. The informant said there could be as many as five others and she didn't want to alert them.
Chrissie felt foolish creeping around the dusty, greasy building in her purple babydoll dress, but when the agency called she had to tell Steve the date would have to wait. She thought the dress looked good on her, sexy in fact. Her size-D breasts bloomed disproportionately over the high waist of the short, flared frock, mixing voluptuousness with schoolgirl appeal in a way she imagined would be exciting to men. Her effort was aided by a cute, round face, a light-brown bob that reached just below her ears, and a height not quite measuring 5'4".
Earlier she'd hoped the fashion combination would lead to finding Steve's cock buried deep in her pussy that night. Now she hoped he'd accept the change in plans as a postponement rather than an end to the brief relationship. When she started wondering what Steve's cock in fact looked like, she jerked herself back to the warehouse. She needed all her senses present in the now.
When Chrissie saw the first approaching toe swing into view around the corner, she launched her left foot and pivoted on her right, briefly coming face to face with a bespectacled blond man of medium height. The toe of her spike heel crashed into his left temple, bending his steel frame glasses and giving him a spectacular beaver shot before his lights went out.
"Well, at least it's easy to move in this dress," thought Chrissie, checking for a pulse.
Dead.
"He won't be much good in the interrogation room," she thought. "But he won't be bothering me while I look for the others."
Next to him she found a gun and a thick roll of blueprints he'd dropped—detailed plans of the munitions warehouse. She tossed the blueprints out of sight onto a cabinet several feet above her head, hid his gun under his body, and tiptoed off to look for the others.
Near the end of a hallway she heard voices in an open area and she peered in, staying in the dark. She saw three men, two squat beefy ones and one tall and thin, near the middle of a mostly empty room nearly the size of a small airplane hangar. They seemed to be fidgeting and toying with their guns. Chrissie figured they were waiting for the dead man and soon would figure out he wasn't coming. She hoped her backup agent would be there before that.
While crouching in the shadows waiting, she sensed a movement and ducked her head just in time to avoid getting it cracked open with what turned out to be the butt of a pistol. The weapon landed on the back of her shoulder, painful but dull. She wheeled her gun hand around to deliver a weak, glancing blow at the head of the attacking shape, which delivered a punch just above stomach level, knocking Chrissie onto her back and stunning the gun from her hand, the clatter attracting the attention of the men in the next room. They turned in time to see Chrissie's attacker lunge at her. She raised a leg and the heel of her right shoe popped four inches deep into the abdomen of their heavy-set partner. As he screamed she pulled her foot back and in the same motion reclaimed her gun and filled the room with an explosion, sending a bullet from her position on the floor up into the bottom of his chin.
The bullet stopped his screaming but Chrissie wasn't listening anyway. She rolled to face the three men racing at her with guns pointing. She sent a slug straight through the heart of the thin man while the other two returned shots in the direction of the shadows, then fell and tried to hide themselves against the nearest wall. One of their bullets hit the hallway several feet above Chrissie, another skipped off the cement floor inches away. Then a high-pitched voice from farther down the shadowy hallway yelled, "Enough."
By now Chrissie was on one knee, and her wrestling had moved her out of the hallway and into the light of the large room. The voice said calmly, "You won't be able to shoot all three of us."
The logic was chillingly sound. Chrissie was too exposed to the widely separated shooters, one of which she couldn't even see. But the voice made a mistake letting her know she had exactly three opponents.
"Slide your gun into the middle of the next room and stand up with your hands extended," said the voice.
Chrissie did some quick calculating without coming up with any option better than following the instructions. She raised herself with arms out like she hoped to fly away.
"Now, walk slowly to the middle of the room. Alex, Benji, keep your guns on her and ready to shoot. I think we have a formidable opponent. Benji, grab her gun." The hulk to Chrissie's left ran to the middle of the room, retrieved her exit visa, and returned to his position.
"Alex, Benji? Sounds like a couple of dogs," thought Chrissie as she clacked her heels softly into the middle of the room. The two big guys inched a couple steps out from the wall, and the voice stepped out of the hallway shadow.
Chrissie turned, arms still outstretched, to face the voice. He was medium height and build, pale with a long blond ponytail and wearing sneakers, jeans, and a solid black t-shirt. His right arm extended toward Chrissie, pointing a gun at her.
"Aren't you a pretty little thing," he said. "Take off your clothes."
"What? You're insane," Chrissie laughed. The ponytail responded, "Irrelevant. You're not in charge here. I am."
This guy wasn't much of a talker, thought Chrissie, he might be hard to distract. There was a hallway behind the guy named Alex, but she didn't like her chances of making a break for it. Three guns aimed at her from three different directions, and she stood in tall heels in the middle of the empty room—her closest foe was more than 15 feet away.
Without any more comment Chrissie grabbed the bottom edge of her little dress and started raising it over her head. In the process she slipped an inch-long flesh-colored blade from the hem and concealed it between her fingers, in a move she'd practiced hundreds of times until no human eye could notice. She didn't see much of a chance to use it, but it was all she had.
The dress pulled off awkwardly over her head, mussing her hair. She dropped it on the floor and felt ridiculous, standing in a grimy room, strands of hair seductively over one eye, wearing her skimpiest, highest-end matching shiny blue underwear meant for Steve's room, not a warehouse audience of thugs. She didn't know which was more humiliating: treating the bad guys to her provocative, low-cut brassiere that pushed most of her mountainous boobs out the top and the teeny panties that barely covered her crotch, or the full frontal show she was about to give them.
Chrissie didn't spend much time pondering the dilemma. She reached back, unhooked her bra and tossed it on the dress. Her young and round breasts barely sagged at all when they were unleashed. She grabbed the wisp of panties and stepped out of them, keeping her back straight and not breaking eye contact with Mr. Ponytail. He'd tried to act cool but Chrissie detected a couple flickers around the eyes and mouth. From the sides of her eyes she detected the two sidekick's pupils widen and their jaws go slack. She knew she looked good. Her breasts pointed upward, proud and high on her chest, small, light pink areoles set dead center, nipples pointing straight out. Her rib cage sloped dramatically down to a tiny waist, above slim hips easily ignored in favor of the wisps of light pubic hair that drew attention to the little triangle of skin and joints below her belly that seemed to point downward and inside her at the same time.
"The shoes, too," said Ponytail. "I've seen how you use those."
Chrissie crooked one leg at a time, again keeping her body upright as she unbuckled and dropped the last of her wardrobe on the pile. The concrete floor chilled her bare feet, raising goose bumps on her short legs. The loss of her heels made her look even tinier in the middle of the cavernous room. Chrissie was raised to be modest about her body, and this was about as far from that as she could get. Still, maybe she could find a way to turn this exposure to her advantage, though standing stark naked in a roomful of guns pointed at her didn't strike her as the kind of competitive edge most people would choose. She took the chance of dropping her arms to her sides, without objection from her aggressors. She took that as small victory, and a lapse of attention on their part.
"Alex, fetch something to tie her up," said Ponytail. "I saw some rope and electric cords in the next room."
"Fetch? Maybe they really are dogs," thought Chrissie, as Hulk #2 disappeared down the hallway.
Ponytail took two steps toward Chrissie and straightened his gun arm at her, more for effect than anything else.
"How did you know to come here?" He asked. "If there's a tattletale among us, we'd like to know."
"All I know is I got a call," she answered. She was telling the truth, but she wasn't sure whether that would prove to be to her benefit.
"We'll see," he threatened.
As Alex came running in with a handful of ropes and cords, Ponytail said, "Face down on the floor."
Chrissie again reviewed the limited options, and slowly lowered herself, meeting the cement with the full length of the front of her body. Ponytail walked over quickly and placed a foot firmly and squarely in the middle of her bare back, pushing out some of her breath.
"Tie her hands together," he commanded.
Alex arced Chrissie's arms until they met at the front of her prone figure. She thought of several moves she might make, but Ponytail seemed to have anticipated all of them.
