Elevator Music To Your Ears

By now, Gwendolyn was starting to notice the vacant, dead-eyed, and imbecilic look on Clyde's face whenever she properly addressed him. For fear of her words going completely over the feeble-minded cowboy's head, she made a mental note to at least attempt to make her words more understandable to the irritatingly thick-headed Texan before her. Though she feared her efforts would be for naught, Gwen did just that by making her request as simple as possible...

...when Clyde would suddenly start getting horribly flustered and sputtering wildly. Gwen balked with wide eyes from his exaggerated reaction, trying to understand what he thought she meant...the heiress getting just as red-faced and flustered when she realized the misunderstanding. Her mouth agape in wordless shock before she responded the only way she knew how...by pelting with him consecutive stomps!!!

"G-Get your delusional, dim-witted mind out of the gutter!!" Gwen snarled out during her trampling of the scruffy-haired Texan, only stopping once she got her indignation out of her system. Then taking an extended breath to settle her nerves, hoping that the sheer idea of them engaging in..."that"...wouldn't linger long in her thoughts.

"What I MEANT...was for you to give me a boost!!" Gwen pointed up at the ceiling and the noticeable hatch above them. "By using my pen to jimmy open the maintenance hatch, I should be able to maneuver unencumbered around the roof of the elevator and either finagle open the next floors doors, or crawl through the adjacent air ducts until I find an opening wide enough for me to slip through and gracefully fall to the floor below. Simple~..." Gwen confidently stated her ludicrous plan with absolute honesty towards her intentions, crossing her arms and feeling rather proud of her foolproof plan.

After having thoroughly vented her righteous indignation at Clyde's misjudgement by imprinting the treadmarks of her boot on his back, Gwendolyn took a calming breath and returned to the task at hand. Namely finding a way out of her enclosed imprisonment and return to her multinational-conglomerate before she went stir crazy.

However, the heiress did take note of how relatively simple it was to get Clyde to do what she said as he went down to prostrate himself before her on his hands and knees. Easily manipulated and ostensibly dim-witted. A trait that Gwendolyn truly appreciates in her menial underlings. It took some time, but she finally found something about Clyde she liked~...

"Oh, never you mind. Once I'm liberated from this claustrophobic enclosure, I'll spend every considerable resource at my disposal to expedite the repair of this confounded contraption and not rest until you too are emancipated and safely escorted to your humble domicile~..." Gwen reassured Clyde with mock sincerity as she daintily stepped on the back of the bent over cowboy. She had no intentions of doing anything of the sort, but for now, keeping Clyde complacent and willing to follow orders was pivotal towards her liberation. The heiress now balancing her nimble ballerina frame between his shoulder blades while beginning to use her pen as a makeshift screwdriver.

"Eeeasy does it...Ah, très bien. Now...remain...perfectly...still...*giggle*...A crackerjack team you and I make, Monsieur Gastin~..." It took some time but eventually Gwen would get her pen jammed into the ridges of the screw, now slowly twisting and loosening it. Her precise unscrewing would go absolutely smoothly so long as Clyde kept himself as rigid as possible...

...which may be a slight issue. Considering that if Clyde were to turn his head to the side and risk unbalancing Gwen, the young cowboy would get an unobstructed view of a miraculous sight never beheld by any other man...up Gwen's flowing dress skirt. Her white garter belts trailing up her smooth thighs...connecting her frilly stockings to the flowery embroidered, silken panties clinging oh so tightly to the curvaceous contours of her shapely rump.

Blissfully unaware of the awe-inspiring view she was offering Clyde, Gwen meticulously continued her handyman laboring with utmost concentration. Smiling from the sense of accomplishment she felt from feeling the first screw loosen. The heiress now geeeeently turning it so as not to dislodge her pen, fully intending to ignore Clyde's banal commentary until he curiously called her "Ms. Gwendolyn". Gwen rolled her eyes in annoyance before getting back to work, not noticing the elevator suddenly start moving.

"...*sigh*...If you must attempt to address me formally, I insist you refer to me as Lady Bettencourt...or Madame Bettencourt...or Her Grand Exalted Eminence Betten-WAH!!!" Gwen's lengthy list of monikers for herself would be interrupted by the sudden jarring stop of the elevator, the heiress scrambling to stay atop the prostrating cowboy before she would collapse back down to the elevator floor. Or more rather, her smooth backside would comfortably land on the back of Clyde's noggin.

"...ngh..." Gwen groaned and winced from the tumultuous fall, no worse for the wear all things considered. Unlike her pen. Which she lifted to her face with a frustrated glare to see it having been bent in half and rendered completely useless towards her escape plans. The haughty noblewoman would pick herself back up and glare down towards Clyde with her arms folded and boot tapping feverishly on the floor.

"Hmph, Well done. Now we have NO means of escape whatsoever thanks to your ineptitude at the simplest of tasks. I certainly hope you have a plan of your own to deal with this predicament, because I am officially all...tapped...out." Gwen pouted while staring directly into Clyde's eyes, intentionally dumbing down her words so it could get through Clyde's thick skull.

Gwendolyn was having none of Clyde's half-baked excuses about the elevator suddenly coming to life or some such nonsense. And even if he were telling her the absolute truth, she still found it vastly more therapeutic towards her agitated demeanor to vent her frustrations and heap blame on the only other person in the room.

"It is LADY Betten-!!!...*sigh*...nevermind." Gwen bristled and immaturely stomped her foot before eventually giving up all hope of getting Clyde to remember even the most basic of titles for her. Resigning herself to being trapped with a dullard...whom she guessed was attempting to lighten up the mood. With her plans up in smoke and her attention focused solely on him now, Gwendolyn supposed she found his dim-witted smile and overt optimism somewhat charming...but only somewhat.

"Of course I know we're not going to meet our demise here. It's just that....I just so happen to pride myself on being in absolute and complete control of my daily life. And being rendered utterly powerless...shackled and incapable of controlling my own fate...it just..." Gwen turned to the side and slumped down to the floor with her back to the wall and arms folded like a pouty child. "...vexes me." Gwen sighed wistfully after unexpectedly opening up towards the scruffy haired cowboy, looking genuinely troubled. The heiress glancing back up at him, rolling her eyes before saying..."...that means it bothers me." Gwen highly doubted Clyde knew what "vexes" meant and offered a more simple interpretation before he would look at her with that blank, dumbfounded stare of his.

Aside from a cocked eyebrow and a perplexed glance, not much in the way of sympathy was offered towards Clyde as he cryptically reminisced to some manner of past trauma that Gwen had nary the foggiest idea about. But apparently, feeling powerless was a notion he was intimately familiar with. Whereas it was entirely uncharted territory for Gwendolyn.  It did give her time to ponder as to why she unexpectedly divulged that tidbit of personal information. To him, of all people.

"Hmm...I can name a few of my fellow co-workers in this league who may not look upon my commanding persona with as much..." Gwen glanced off and to the side as if she were searching for the right word in the corner of the room before looking back at Clyde. "...acceptance, as you, Monsieur Gastin~..." A deceptively sinister Cheshire smile on Gwen's face as she herself reminisced about all the numerous competitors she's slighted and made miserable during her extensively successful and equally unscrupulous wrestling career.

"...*sigh*...very well. I humbly admit my defeat." Gwen mused with an air of sorrowful woe to her elegant tone of voice, than daintily flicking her wrist in a brief sweeping motion beside her. The heiress subtly insinuating that she would allow Clyde the absolute privilege of sitting beside her...just this once though.

"Please...do regale me as to what could have possibly compelled the notorious Clyde T. Gastin to gallivant through the expansive halls of the AFW executive offices this chilly Winter night...*giggle*...I imagine the reason must be quite compelling if you saw fit to don such a horribly drab tuxedo just for the occasion~..." Gwen folded her hands across her bent right knee with a teasing smirk. The heiress finally conceding that, much to her restrained displeasure, idle chit-chat with Clyde was her absolutely final option to make time pass more quickly.