It was the pasties that were the problem. This was the first time (and it would be the last) she had ever worn such a thing. The pasties had adhesive in the back requiring you to get them on right the first time. Lena took the one-inch diameter stars out of their pack and placed them over her nipples. There. If there were to be any wardrobe malfunctions, her honor would still be preserved. She stepped into the body-hugging black Mylar leotard, shocked by its sheerness. Lena swore that she could see her pores through it. It had the smooth, tight sheen of a Mylar balloon and it was obvious that it could tear with little effort. “I can't wear this!” she screamed on the phone to Danielle. “Just one bump against a table and this thing is in shreds!” “It’s just for six hours, Lena. And remember, they gave us a spare.” “What spare? I didn’t get a spare,” said Lena. “You didn’t get a spare?” said Danielle. “No.” “Oh.” “And these heels! I’m not wearing these eff-me pumps!
