She tries to get used to the situation

It had only taken me a day to figure out that I wasn't getting out of the outfit. In my line of work I knew a thing or two about escapes, and I knew when I was caught. I had tried various tools, even a blowtorch, and I knew that if the costume wasn't invulnerable, it was close enough. I would break long before it would, and had the scratches to prove it. Sometimes I'd still tear at it though. It's rubbery, clinging embrace made me feel claustrophobic.

Besides the obvious inconveniences of being trapped in a costume that teases you but won't provide any satisfaction, not to mention the weird bulb I had to use to pee, there were other problems I wouldn't have thought of. I was used to jogging five miles every morning, but the heels put a stop to that. I did sit ups and some weight lifting instead, but it wasn't the same. I had initially worried about sweating in the costume since I couldn't remove it to shower, but every morning at six a weird tingling would wake me up, as if a low level electric current was being conducted through my body anywhere the costume covered me. My theory was that it kept me clean, since I'd been in the thing for three days now and hadn't started to smell. I still had to shower to wash my bare skin, and it's an odd thing to shower clothed.

And I was deeply, achingly, horny. The costume teased me mercilessly, several times a day. I had probably spent as much time trying to relieve my sexual frustration as I had trying to escape the costume. I don't think my nipples had softened since the first time the costume teased me in front of Belli. And the dreams I'd been having… I shuddered to think what I'd be reduced to if I didn't get out of this thing. I had sent Belli a text, trying to get some information about the museum's new security and was surprised when he texted back. The message read:

You're an alley cat, not a house cat. Take care of it yourself. The clock is ticking. Be seeing you soon.

Real helpful.