As<strong>Felina</strong>leaped from her bike, she did not feel quite right. She had taken a long, very long shower, trying to get rid of smell in her hair, but still it seemed to be floating around her, although she could not tell for sure whether it was for real or just a phantasm of her imagination. At least, her lovers had forgotten about their project to take her pills. But there were other problems. The loose jeans, the loose, white T-shirt she had knotted above her belly button, the absence of bra so that her very dark nipples seemed to have pierced through the cotton of her top, even the flat tennis shoes she was wearing, the tight bum she had gathered her hair into, covered with one of those thick red-yellow-green rasta hats, the big mirror-like sun-glasses... everything was unusual to her. She missed the tightness of her leather outfits, the vertiginous towering effect of her heels. And her friends, she did not recognise them either. The only familiar thing was her belt, which she had kept on her, along with its precious pouches, which held her lock-picking tools and other precious stuff.<br/><br/>She followed Bex as she entered the shop but quickly moved to a side aisle so as to let her friend free to play her role. She glanced at her to see how the affair was developping. To her, she seemed to be 'too much'. She was acting so much like a slut. Would the shop-keeper fall for it? He had looked a bit defiant, nervous, when they had entered the station.<br/><br/>Whatever happened, Felina was ready to act though.