Abigail is about to learn that she must be careful who she flirts with

"Hi, honey," Abigail said to the big, handsome guy at her table. "I'm Abigail, your waitress, and it'll be my pleasure to serve you tonight." She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward as she spoke, letting her customer have a good look down her top.

Abigail was tall, blonde, and curvy. She had brown eyes and pouty lips. She wore her hair loose, letting it fall down over her shoulders and back. She had found that her looks were an asset in her job as a waitress. She'd modified the club's issue top to give her more cleavage, and made sure to wear the right bra whenever she was on the job. Her firm round D-cups were worth a lot of tip money.

"Hi," the guy said. He was rather blatantly looking at Abigail's breasts.

"What can I get you?"

"Uh, Mich -- Michelob Golden. Golden Draft."

"You got it, honey," she said. She straightened up, backed away from the table. "I'll be right back."

"What about me?" said the dark-haired woman sitting across from the handsome guy. "I'll have a glass of red wine."

"Sure," Abigail said. "One glass of red wine, and one Michelob Golden Draft."

Abigail came back fairly quickly with the drinks. She set the woman's glass in front of her, then carefully placed a full beer glass in front of the guy. She leaned forward again as she served his beer, to give him another look at her boobs. "Here you are, honey. I'll be back soon to take your order." She hit him with her dazzling smile.

"Sure," the guy said. "Thanks." He didn't seem to notice the look his girlfriend was giving him. In fact, he didn't seem to be aware of her at all.

By the end of the night, Rachel was fuming. All night long, Abigail, their waitress, shamelessly flirted with her boyfriend, Cooper, and more or less ignored her. She was at their table more often than she needed to be, and she talked only to Cooper. She had to interrupt any time she wanted to order anything. In a way, she couldn't blame Abigail; Cooper left the little tramp a tip of almost 30%, obviously the result of all the attention she was giving him. It was only natural that she use what she had to make money. But not with Rachel's boyfriend.

By the end of the night, she'd had enough. Excusing herself, she went into the Ladies Room. It was empty. She looked into the mirror and formed a mental picture of the waitress, Abigail. "If you want to use your boobs to get better tips," she said, quietly, "why not do it right? Starting tomorrow, as long as you wait tables, you will be unable to wear anything at all above the waist, unless and until I lift this spell."

She saw a shimmering in the mirror. She nodded in satisfaction and went back to her table.

(THE NEXT DAY) Abigail slid her badge into the time-card reader and pressed, Start Work. Now that she was properly clocked in, she fastened her nametag to her uniform shirt, then turned and started to walk out of the office.

She opened the door and started through. As she did so, her shirt caught on a nail in the door frame and came off, ripping at the seams before she could realize what was happening.

"Shit," Abigail said. She picked up her ruined shirt and inspected it, quickly deciding that it was ruined beyond repair. Fortunately, she had another in her locker.

She went to her locker, opened it, and took out her spare shirt. She watched in alarm as it fell apart in her hand. "What the --"

She was now holding only two small squares of cloth, one in each hand. She squinted at them. That was when she realized that she wasn't wearing a bra. She'd put one on that morning, as usual, but now, she was braless. Her unsupported breasts bounced as she lurched backwards in surprise.

"What the heck?" Abigail said. "Where did my bra go? And what's happening to my shirts?"

She was due on the floor, but she couldn't go out there like this. She looked around. She didn't see anything she could wear obviously at hand, but there were other lockers. Maybe one of the other girls had something in their locker she could borrow for tonight.