"Strip."

"...What?" Violet's not sure she heard you right.

"Strip, here and now, on the roof of your beloved Tigers HQ, or everyone in the Tigers gets an urgent email with a link to your cute little solo show." You don't bother masking the malice in your voice. You can see the gears turn in the blonde cheerleader's head. However, you're running low on patience to let her dawdle her options.

"But..." Violet stammers. You decide to add on a consequence.

"Now, or maybe I'll embed a clip into the next Tigers promo on TV, too." you say as you lean a shoulder against the wall casually, as if it's easy as snapping a finger. She seems to deflate.

Violet slowly, hesitantly, slips off the straps of her leather shoulder holster. The leather webbing drops to the floor with a heavy thud. Her pretty hands reach down to her gold-studded rocker belt, undoing the clasp, and letting the heavy leather drop to the floor. Her boots come off next. She pauses again, clearly very **** to reveal any more to you.

"Skirt next." you say. Zipper along the right comes down, along with the rest of the frilly fabric. Her bare legs seem to shine in the afternoon light. You've been holding in your erection ever since the recording, but now it's pretty much impossible to ignore. You even notice Violet eyeing your bulge through your cargos. Her eyes flicker up at yours, and she immediately turns her head away, in shame and anger.

"Top off." Crossing her arms over each other, she lifts her cream-colored wool sweater over her head, then drops it awkwardly in the pile of fabric that makes up the rest of her clothing. She's now only wearing a cream-colored lacy bra, thong, and knee-high socks.