Were it anybody else, Gina would have been royally pissed off at the woman's condescending tone, the way she talks about her like she's a pet who doesn't quite understand. Instead, she smiled, weirdly delighted to be found appealing, even in this ridiculous outfit - clothing that, suddenly, is less repellent simply because it seems to make the woman happy.<br/><br/>Gina tensed a little, resettling her feet on the floor, and gathered her muscles, tensing to lift to her feet; the boots made her unsteady, but she found herself managing to stay upright, a ghostly muscle-memory of dreaming, of being in the dancer's body helping her find a center. The impossibly high heels of the boots made her toned calves even more rounded in the sheer stockings, her ass sticking out a little more behind, where her own bound fists rest upon the bare globes. The garter belt frames her shorn skin perfectly, the corset lifting her breasts like a presentation of pale skin rising above the edge of the white silk.<br/><br/>She watches the woman, and a little bit her two beautiful companions, inexplicably eager for the woman to be pleased with her clothing, her body, though none of it was her own choosing.