Her hands were clasped neatly in front of her, staring straight ahead- or, trying to, as your scantily clad figure stepped up in line to preform your signature catwalk.

The wings you wore were practically the biggest of the night, massive white wings shooting up behind you and dragging on the floor when you walked.

She was trying to be good, she really was, but the way you looked modeling that gem-encrusted lingerie did something to her.

After you finished, returning backstage to get unready, she quickly composed herself.