No Backing Out Now

The clock in the bar rang the hour and Tifa jumped, pulling her arms close to her self, reflexively shielding her body. She wanted to run. To keep the bar closed for the night and just hide.

"No!" Tifa slapped her cheeks, psyching herself up. "They're all counting on me. I have to do this." Her wavering voice belied the false confidence of her words.

First, she removed her studded gloves and slid the softer, longer gloves underneath them off. She then put her fighting gauntlets back on. They were her primary means of self defense and also held her materia. There was no way she was working without them. Not when she was clothed and especially if she was naked.

With trembling hands, she slid the suspenders holding her skirt up off of her shoulders. The garment fell to the flood softly, revealing the black spats she wore underneath. She wore the skirt loose. It wasn't there for modest, that's what the spats were for, but for looks. A vestige of the pugilist's femininity. It also served another purpose. The lower body workouts she did as part of her martial arts training gave her a butt that she always felt was too big. The pleated skirt helped hide this fact.

Next, she kick of her boots, leaving her stockings in. In one swift motion, like ripping off a bandage, she pulled her spats and panties down and stepped out of them. The feeling of air on her exposed lower half was foreign and embarrassing. The sensation created a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. She was only halfway stripped in privacy and she was already queasy. How was she going to pull this off?

She had agonized the night prior about her pubic hair. She normally kept things trimmed and "under control," but that wouldn't cut it if she was going to be...on display. She eventually decided that a full shave would be too much and settled on a small landing strip.

Her hands fully quaking now, she rolled one of her stockings down and stepped back into her boot, then repeated the process with the other leg. The floor boards of 7th Heaven were already in bad shape when she gathered them from a scrap heap, and time had not been kind to them. Tonight was already going to be bad enough. She didn't need to add picking splinters out of her feet on top.

Awkwardly, with her hands and fingers nearly totally out of her control, she pulled off her white tank top. Exhaling, she pulled the black sports bra she wore underneath up and over her head. Her large, heavy breasts fell our, slapping loudly in the quite room against her ribs. Unlike most other large breasted women she talked to, she didn't mind her's all that much. The worst part about the girls was how sweat they would get when fighting. Otherwise, her sports bras kept them strapped down and out of the way, and her workouts kept her back muscles strong.

What she did mind was they way other people reacted to them. Openly staring. Talking to them instead of her. The comments when people though she couldn't hear you knew that she could. Maybe, Tifa thought in **** optimism, this would be good for everyone. Get an eye full so they could get it out of their system.

Now naked except for her gloves and shoes, Tifa was as ready as she would ever be. If this was her way of supporting AVALANCHE from the sidelines, she was going to start going on missions.

[contributions to this thread are more than welcome]