Dave was in a near panic, being half-dragged away from the only means of regaining her manhood by a sturdy security guard in no mood for distractions from tonight's game.
She had no choice but to relent when the big bully threatened to either dislocate her shoulder, or toss her over his and carry her in a very unladylike way out of the building!
She'd preferred to walk, her slender wrist held firmly encircled by the big, strong hand of the security guard. In her low-heeled boots and short skirt, she was forced to wiggle and jiggle as she was pulled along: she had to take two steps for every one of his, and her skirt kept snapping tight across her thighs, bringing her strides up shorter still.
She was on the verge of tears, her mind racing with desperate plans to break in again and retrieve the pen, but she couldn't think of a single one that would work, given her current circumstances. What in the hell had she been thinking when she'd written the line which had left her in this condition?!
The front doors were just a few strides away when the lout towing her along pulled up short, his attention summoned by the little voice in his radio.
David shivered in her skimpy outfit, unable to take her eyes off the sidewalk beyond the sliding glass doors, unconsciously hugging herself while wondering what she was going to do if she were about to be thrown out onto the street.
"Dusty Melons?"
Her name being spoken punched right through the dreadful daydream, drawing her attention back to the present in an instant.
"Yes, sir?" she answered, clasping her hands together nervously in front of her.
She blinked, and felt in icy shiver creep up her back.
"W-wait, that isn't-"
"Yes, ma'am. I was about to...well, okay. Whatever you say, ma'am."
The guard's disbelieving voice left no room for argument, once he'd received new orders.
"I'm very sorry for the misunderstanding, Miss Melons," he began, his voice very carefully devoid of emotion. He led her along by the hand once again, back the way they had come. She couldn't see his face from this angle, but she'd have bet anything that it would have been just as carefully free of expression as Mount Rushmore.
"If you'll just please follow me, Mister Latimer will see you shortly."
"W-well, I...th-thanks, I...wait, what?!"
Dave had meant to say 'What did you just call me?', but before she could wrap her pretty head around her slip of tongue, the elevator doors opened and she was once more being towed inexorably forward in the wake of the burly security guard.
She felt her cheeks burning as she realized she'd not have thought he was so intimidating just a few days ago. Now, however, she couldn't even bring herself to ask him a simple question. Questions like: why had he called her that name? Why was she being 'escorted' back up? Or would he please stop bumping against her ass with his groin and pretending it was just the sway of the elevator?
Finally, the elevator doors opened once again and Dace stumbled forward, eager to get away from that lumbering guard and find his magic pen!
Naturally, she was pulled up short by the brute's grip around her wrist.
Bringing her before the desk of the Assistant Department Manager, the six-foot tall, blue-suited goon just wouldn't be satisfied until she was forced into one of the two chairs in front of Jenny's desk.
"Here she is, Miss Jenny. Do you need me to stay for a this?" he asked the curvaceous black woman dubiously. It wasn't that he didn't think she could easily manage this skinny little bimbette! But that was his job. She had better things to do than wrestle around with strippers!
His face went carefully blank when he felt the urge to grin. "Or maybe she didn't?" he thought to himself in that devious part of his mind that never wanted to follow orders.
"Thanks, Tom! No, I don't think Little Miss Melons is going to give us any trouble. Are you, sweety?"