Brad stares in wonder (and alarm) at his painted-white face in the mirror. He reaches for his glasses; maybe he'll go back to normal once he can see clearly, says his subconscious. But his hand is slapped away.

"Don't smudge it, lover," Frank N. Furter drawls in his ear, nibbling a little. Brad gasps and squirms.

"You don't ... think this corset is ... too much?" he asks, tugging at its laces insecurely.

Frank's lips form a red "o" of disbelief.

"Lord, no!" he exclaims. He fingers an exposed nipple with a sultry smirk, saying, "It's never too much."