Take her uniform except the apron

You snap Polly from her revelry: ”So… sandwich!”

”Wh- where’s the Lady Evellyn?” Polly asks, masking her concern.

You contemptuously wave your fingers: ”Oh, she’s fine, she’s on a little sidequest, she’ll probably be home shortly. Anyway, best not to leave her honored guest starving, right?.”

Recognizing the implied threat, Polly quickly turns to begin diligently working on your meal. You ought not to leave her in suspense though: She expected you to pull something, so the wait is just gonna stress her out. You freeze time and rapidly dispose of Polly’s uniform, leaving her plump, stocky figure covered only partially by her white apron.

Time resumes and a sudden gust of air rushes through the room in the wake of the vacuum your movements created, sending the apron fluttering up. Polly yelps and immediately pulls the apron down, clutching it tightly against her body. Her cheeks turn a bright shade of crimson as she attempts to cover herself, the apron doing its best to shield her modesty but failing in most areas.

You casually drape her uniform over your arm. “Polly, dear, let’s not dawdle. Uniform or no, that sandwich won’t make itself!”

”I- uhm- but I- y-yes sir!” she stammers, trying to orient a thigh towards the kitchen counter so she can simultaneously work on the dish and keep her ass directed away from you, though all it does is offer you a very generous, hefty dose of sideboob. You give her a knowing look as you turn to leave the kitchen, her face still burning with aroused embarrassment.