The One From That Thing at the Place

“Face me.” Click. “Face right.” Click. “Do you have any, uhhh, tattoos?”, the detention officer asked. Angela stared at him. “I have to ask, ma'am.” She grunted. How fucking young was this kid? Was he dropped on his head as a baby? Angela glanced down at herself. She was a whopping 5’2”, 110 pounds soaking wet. They had already taken her leather jacket, leaving her in her tank top and ripped jeans. The entirety of her right arm was a full sleeve tattoo. Her left arm was a half sleeve, and she had plans to fill in the empty space. The chest piece that was visible on her exposed skin and through her thin shirt was a tangle of thorns with flowers dispersed throughout. Looking further Angela was able to clearly make out her nipples and the barbell piercings through them adoring her A cup chest. She was of the opinion that small tits wouldn't sag or cause back pain. She was also of the opinion that anyone who didn't like her appearance could fuck all the way off.

Like that cop. Brayer? Brewer? Boyer? Whatever his name, fuck him. Bastard kept staring at my tits. What? Never seen pierced ripples before? I bet you'd shit if you saw what I've got under this thong. She had a clit ring, and a ring through each of her labia. Additionally, her bellybutton was pierced, as was her left eyebrow. She lost track of how many holes she had in her ears, but it was in the double digits…. She was distracted from her reverie by the booking desk office. God, is this kid still in high school? I have shoes older than him, I'm prettys sure.

“Uh, do you have any, uh, body jewelry other than in your ears and eyebrow?”

Angela just stared at The Kid, as she'd named him in her mind. Had he been looking at her face, he might have noticed. However, his eyes were locked (as they had been for the last 10 seconds) on her tits. Belatedly, he realized she hadn't answered and had in fact caught him staring. “S-s-sorry”, he stammered. Jesus fucking Mary and Joseph she thought. Don't fucking apologize. Fucking own it. Yeah you were staring at my tits. Don't be a bitch and say you're sorry. Just fucking move on! Apparently some of her thoughts must have shown through her expression,as the Kid cleared his throat and asked her another question. “Huh?”, she said? Was he deliberately mumbling? Was he that shaken up by her demeanor? She looked back towards the booking desk. The Kid looked increasingly frantic and appeared to be raising his voice as he surged from behind the desk. However, before he managed to clear the desk, she was gone.