Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock...Boobies!!!
Sweating in response to the robot Judge's words, your eyes flick to Durham's reflection in the mirror, where you see her staring at you, rolling her eyes and making slight jerking motions with her head.
Deciding she must be hinting for you to get the Hell out of there and find help, you pause, take a deep breath and - when the robot turns its attention back on the bomb - spin and hot-foot it out of the room, sprinting down the hall to the door. "You're wasting your time!" you hear the robot call after you. "It's too late, you won't make it before..." You are through the stage door and back in the lounge before the robot finishes its sentence, your eyes sweeping to the stage to find Anderson and the other Judges have finished their performance and are now taking a break. Quick as a flash, you hop onto the stage and pound across the floor to where they are gathered. Anderson, sitting on the edge of the stage with a cocktail in her hand, looks up as you approach and smiles. "Whoa, take it easy, there's not exactly a queue of people lining for autographs, no need to rush!" Coming to a halt before her, you place your hands on your knees and bend over, shaking your head as you try to catch your breath. "No time," you gasp, fighting to get the words out. "Big trouble. One of the Judges...with the trombone...phony. He's a robot. He's backstage and he's got a bo..." Lifting your gaze from the floor to make eye contact with Anderson, you suddenly notice that how she is sitting, her body twisted towards you, and the way you are standing offers you a clear view down her top into her wonderful, alabaster-skinned cleavage. Oh no, you think, don't do it... But you can't help yourself, and unbidden your imagination conjours up an image of Anderson's voluptuous breasts popping free of her bodice to bounce magnificently before you... "Hey hey hey!" Anderson blurts, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling your legs out from under you. "I saw that, creep!" Losing your balance, you topple backwards to crash down hard and bang your head on the microphone stand. Stars in your eyes, you try to raise a hand to your head only for a boot to pin your arm to the floor. "Don't move!" a commanding voice says, and as your vision clears you see the other Judges standing over you, lawgivers pointed at your head. "You don't understand," you plead. "You have to listen, we don't have much..." Movement ahead draws your eyes from the pointing lawgivers down to stare through the legs of the Judges, and you see Anderson, sashaying away from you as she heads towards the piano, her perfectly formed buttocks gyrating hypnotically within the skin-tight material of her dress. "Ahh, screw it," you sigh, giving up to indulge in one last illegal imagining. A moment later, a deafening explosion fills your ears and an inferno of flame engulfs you...
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