The school's biggest pervert.

The calming, yet eerie motions of your solitary shower cease, when a girls voice cuts menacingly through the sounds of falling water, confirming to your horror— you weren't the only one here.

"Did you seriously make the mistake of coming in here alone? You must possess equivalent levels of both naïveté and sexiness, by which I mean you're preeminently fucking sexy, and just made the biggest mistake of your life."

You would recognize that socially unacceptably verbose and sesquipedalian sexual harassment anywhere! The most infamous pervert in your school was just watching you shower!

This time you whirl a full 180° and catch the shameless ogling of Charlotte, the bespectacled chess club captain. She's skinny, redheaded, holding a camera, and staring straight at your dripping wet cock.

You blush crimson, and shriek, frantically throwing a hand down to hide your exposed penis from this licentious, boy-hunting girl, though, unfortunately not until after she's taken a compromising picture of you. One that would allow her to savor every last inch of your sexy, naked body at her perverse leisure.

Licking her lips and laughing, Charlotte says, "Well, with that thing between your legs, Denise will undoubtedly flip her shit!"

You try to sink into the stall to escape her lusty gaze, but she mentioned a certain sexy basketball player, and that brings your attention back, sufficient to inquire, "Denise!? What do you mean Denise!?"

"Oh please, it's as evident as the cock you're trying to obscure that you possess a crush on her. All that obnoxious romantic-slash-sexual tension you morons share, the years you've spent forcing everyone to watch you stare longingly and twitter-pated at that ungainly jock. You. Like. Denise."

"I, I... I,- Wait, what does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm in the business of making boys blush so hard they scream for mercy, so if I can get a comely fellow like you naked, where your little crush can see everything, and you can't hide what you're most **** to... I'd say I've done my job."

The deviant young woman emits a cruel, condescending chuckle, "And you've facilitated my job so, so, well, leaving your storage unit ajar like that."

Your mind races back to that locker you didn't bother closing and your eyes go wide in dread, "What did you do to my clothes?!"

"Not especially much, I wouldn't want to have blame pinned on myself for ruining this institution's obnoxious pep rally, no, just an unpleasant little surprise for the sexpot playing guitar."

Charlotte takes a few additional snapshots of you, soaking wet, blushing, hunched with both hands covering your crotch, then laughs again, that same humiliating giggle, before wolf-whistling, winking, and walking out, apparently done harassing you— at least for the moment.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you see that she hadn't taken any towels; after drying yourself off in uneasy peace, you wrap the terrycloth around your waist and go to check your locker, fearing the worst.