Shamira had always been a sweats or jeans kind of girl. It wasn't as if she had nothing slinky, but mostly those were her competition outfits, and those were supposed to show off everything. Now, everything she had seemed to show things off. She had comfortable but tight hip-hugger blue jeans expensive enough to feed an entire African village for a week. All the shirts she had seemed designed to expose as much hard-bodied flesh as they could.

Straps over the shoulders, exposed midriffs, sleeveless, and cleavage-revealing were all primary factors in the other's womens' decisions. The girls had dragged Shamira kicking and screaming (almost literally) into Victoria's Secrets because,...