Bridget Weiss brushed them aside. "Just a sec, I'll tell you when I'm done in the back." She finished pinning the silver bra band around Sugar's perfectly tanned, perfectly toned rib cage. A rib cage that carried a brand-new set of G-cup breasts, courtesy of a pricey suburban plastic surgeon and paid for by the slack-jawed patrons at Frisky's Gentlemen's Club, not a club that any real gentleman would belong to.

Sugar shifted from one foot to the other and circled the carpeted pedestal, her butt cheeks flexing in the costume's matching silver thong. Bridget bet she could bounce a quarter off those buns. The exotic dancer frowned at her reflection. "I don't think the doc got them quite even."

Bridget stared at the silver-spandex-clad breasts, as dispassionate as a pastry chef making sure her cake was frosted evenly. Sure enough, the left nipple was maybe a half inch higher than the right. At least they weren't off-center, like some other clients of hers. One girl had gone to a cheaper doc and wound up with a pair so asymmetrical, Bridget had found herself tilting her head in a futile attempt to see them as a balanced set.

But padding or a good pasty hid a multitude of sins. Even before starting fashion-design school here in Chicago last fall, Bridget had learned all the bra-design tricks in the book, plus a few more. "Let me pin up the left strap just a smidge."

She quickly made the alteration and Sugar smiled. "Much better. Now that I'm healed from my surgery, I'm going to be a feature dancer—finally a Frisky's Kitten!" She bounced up and down in her excitement.

Bri