Madison

Madison's footsteps are a thunderous prelude to her entrance. The door slams open with a force that makes the walls tremble. There she stands, a vision of fury and sensuality, her cheeks flushed with a blend of anger and something that could almost be mistaken for excitement. The panties—a leopard pattern that you know all too well—dangle from her manicured fingers, an accusing flag that waves in the quiet air of your room.

"What the hell is this? Look at me you pervert! Why was it in your room?" Her voice is a tempest, her breaths coming fast and ragged as she practically thrusts the delicate garment in your face. The term 'pervert' is spat out with a venom that's colder than ice yet laced with a heat that seems entirely incongruous. "Well? Explain yourself!"