Deflect it.

Moving at amazing speed, you grab a silver platter from inside the tavern and place it in the way of the bolt. You know enough about magic to predict what will happen next. The bolt is deflected off the makeshift mirror and zooms back the way it came, back towards its caster. It all happens so fast she has no time to respond. It strikes her dead centre, briefly suffusing her body with blue light.

She looks down at her fingers, remnant magic still sparking from them, and up at you, smirking and holding the platter. "What... just..."

"Hands on your head," you say. "And stand up straight."

She puts her hands on her head and stands up straight.

"No," she says, below her breath, then louder. "No! I won't be made a victim of my own charm spell. You can't turn me into a... a laughingstock!"

The laughter that surrounds her swiftly proves her wrong.

"You were going to do the same thing to me," you say, enjoying the sight of her utterly uncovered body. "Give me a little twirl. Go on, do it."

She spins around for you, showing off her slim hips, her supple bottom, her smooth back and her waves of mahogany hair. She really is very pretty, and furious, hating every moment of the torment you're putting her through. You feast your eyes on her helpless, hapless, excruciatingly public nudity, taking immense pleasure in the spectacle of her frustration.

"Alright," you say thoughtfully. "What now?