Lucy twirled in the mirror, deciding. The skirt flared nicely, and the blue satin set off her eyes, but - "The skirt's too long," she told the tailor regretfully. "The base of my tail is constrained. And can't you do something here to define it better?" She shaped her breasts with her hands, demonstrating. While normally submissive, about her appearance she was deadly serious and accepted no compromises.
"I like the ivory and gold lace corset," she said presently, "and the jade silk mini-kimino. But the rest is just far too modest." She prided herself on having learned the meaning of the foreign word. "In this..." she indicated the simple blue cocktail dress - "I'd look like some kind of human!"
After discussing the rest of the alterations for a wardrobe that could outfit an empress (of libertine leanings), she went about the rest of her errands. There were still her claws to be manicured, the appointment with the sacred piercer to give her a second set of ear-piercings (Faye had given her the most lovely diamond studs!) Then there was the consultation with the jeweler, the last lesson with her instructor of modern dances, the little brass drum which needed reheading... So much work to do before she could enjoy herself on stage!
She sang to herself as she walked, getting those muscles into shape. It was a crazy little ditty that Miss Calico had composed, with a very catchy beat.
"The Corporation! We're not a syndicate, we're a corp-or-a-tion!
We sell wine-and drugs-and guns-and people-and coffee-and ivory-and silks-and spices-and leather!
Oh, we'll rob ya blind, and you won't mind.
We have more sexy women than a bucket full of kittens
We have armies of demons that have never been bitten
We rob from the rich what we take from the poor,
And leave all them wanting just a little bit more.
The Corporation! We're not illegal, we're a corp-or-a-tion!
We sell parrots-and pearls-and monkeys-and rum-and jewels-and pleasure-and politicians-and hardwood-and people like you and me!"
As singing was second nature to her, it took her conscious mind a few moments to catch up with what the lyrics were about. Perhaps she shouldn't be singing an obviously satirical song about her future employers. On a slow night, though, maybe she could get away with it... People tended to be forgiving of beautiful felines who made them lots of money.
