Nope! (mild bondage path)

No one becomes a master assassin without having a lot of fight in her. Fennec shifted her grip on the cutlery concealed in her palm to ready for a fight.

The enforcers approaching her split and went around opposite sides of the table. Her eyes couldn't decide if they wanted to follow the swarthy woman with the red-striped hair and long, taut physique or the big guy with his sweet, rippling muscles. She could imagine either's arms wrapped around her. Maybe both. What was she thinking? Damned **** were already affecting her mind.

She started to throw her weapon at "Mr. Muscles" but some urging inside of her wanted her to get physically close, so Fennec waited till he drew close and lashed out, striking Muscles across the throat instead. She then pivoted her weapon to an icepick grip and brought it down on his chest.

“That hurt!” grunted Muscles.

“Dank Farrik!” In her **** addled state she’d grabbed an oyster fork instead of the knife. Won’t anything go right today?

His heavy fingers easily wrapped around her slim wrist and locked like a clamp. He peeled her hand back until the useless fork clattered to the ground. There was no way she was winning in a barehanded contest of strength, so she decided to change the rules and reached back to bring her left heel into the fight but she never got near it. Instead, the red-headed enforcer was there to quickly wrapped up that arm. Muscles shoved the arm he was holding back into Ms. Red-Stripe’s grip and now both were trapped behind her.

Fennec knew a technique to get out of this easily. As she twisted in Red-Stripe's grip to execute it, she realized that at some point in the short melee her boobs had come free from the tiny straps that covered them. Standing there, feeling the other woman's firm breasts pushing into her back, her toned thighs brushing the backs of her thighs, she writhed in her captor’s grasp as her bare tits swayed in the cool air. She must have looked like some stupid damsel in distress. That thought filled the master assassin with embarrassment, humiliation, and... anticipation?

Wait. Wasn’t she supposed to be doing a technique?

Before she could remember, Red-Stripe yanked back making her trip on those ridiculous platform heels. She fell back into the waiting enforcer, who easily threaded her arms into a much stronger hold. Then she was spun to face Muscles. The stunning slap of his beefy hand on her cheek rung in the air. He jammed a thick finger in her face. “That was for stabbing me,” he declared.