That question answered itself quickly enough, the thin cotton of the chemise revealing bare skin to the waist, and there only remaining the flimsy lace of a pair of panties and the garter belt that held up Jane's stockings. Standing there topless with her granny boots still on, the situation edged precariously toward the ridiculous, and for a moment Jane wavered on the thin line between a sudden wave of vulnerability and an acute awareness of her own power. Ignoring the desperate instinct to cover her bare breasts, she instead lifted shaking fingers to pull the pins from her hair.