La-La asked. Rikki nodded, then playfully rolled her eyes. “Trust. And maybe a camisole or corset for your performance tonight. We’re gonna need all the help we can get to make you look old enough to get in.” A sultry rainbow of silk, lace, push-up bras, and slinky lingerie greeted them when they entered What’s-Her-Name’s Secret’s trendy establishment. La-La couldn’t help but finger the too-cute fabrics, furry high-heeled slippers, and attached garters. Ninety-million A through DD cups splashed one section, and coordinating undies, purposely displayed nearby, lured one to buy matching pieces. And La-La took the bait, pulling Rikki along as she eyed one panty, then another, confused. They all looked the same to her. Except for the rare regular cut that wasn’t large by her standards. “They all look the same to you?” she whispered the question to Rikki. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been here either,” Rikki answered in disbelief. “First Cyd—can’t believe she refused to come in here and thinks this is a hooker-clothing store—and now you’re just as green as her.
