“You don’t think so?” Tiffany put down her coffee and came over to open one of the oversized dressing rooms. She gestured for Abby to step inside. “Face the mirror.”

Abby did as directed and tried to look anywhere but at herself, anywhere but at the woman who so desperately wanted to be different but didn’t know where to begin.

“Is it okay if I get personal?”

“Ah, sure. I guess so.”

Tiffany unbuttoned Abby’s blouse and pushed it off her shoulders, revealing the utilitarian white bra that Abby had worn since she was old enough to wear bras. “Hmm,” Tiffany said. “Nice tattoo. Just got it?”

“Today.”

“Good for you. I’m guessing a D cup?”

Abby’s face flushed with color. She’d always been sensitive about breasts that had gotten too big too fast when she was a teenager. “Yes.”

“Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Tiffany Sturgil changed Abby Callahan’s entire perspective about lingerie and how important it could be to feeling sexy. Once she got a load of what her too-big breasts looked like in a lacy midnight-blue bra, it hadn’t taken much encouragement for Tiffany to talk her into enough underwear for two weeks’ worth of sexy, not to mention several new dresses designed to show off her assets.

“You’re going to need a thong for that dress,” Tiffany said, taking a close look at Abby’s posterior in a slinky black number that hugged her curves. All thoughts of shyness had disappeared the first time she bared her breasts to try on the bra that Tiffany insisted would do wonders for her cleavage. She’d been right about that and about every other choice she’d made for Abby.

“I’ve never worn a thong before. I can’t get past the feeling of having a nonstop wedgie.”

Tiffany laughed. “I hear that all the time from first-timers, but trust me, once you go thong, you never go back.” She held up a scrap of midnight-blue lace, dangling it in front of Abby like a metaphor for the life she wanted so badly but hadn’t known how to find.

Abby took hold of it, stepped into the dressing room and closed the door, not wanting Tiffany to see the basic cotton panties that matched her equally boring bra. She slid the thong into position, grimacing at the sensation of having fabric wedged where it didn’t belong. “How long does it take before you don’t notice that you’ve got something jammed up there?”

“A couple of days max.”

“If you say so.”

“Check out what it does for the dress,” Tiffany said.

Abby turned, putting her back end to the mirror and looking over her shoulder. She had to admit the dress flowed better with the thong than it had without it. “Okay. I’m sold.”