She didn’t like the idea of being photographed without her shirt on. The text read, “Tits: 32D, real. Xnxx ‘Let me tell you a little about Titcage,’ said Michael. Here’s your ID. ‘Let me tell you a little about Titcage,’ said Michael. This place was creepy with its collars and degrading badges. Maybe it was just like a medical examination. ‘Titcage uniform. ‘Glad to hear it,’ said Girl. When Girl was done, she told Claire to wait while she stepped out. ‘Your relevant statistics, silly,’ replied Girl. The first showed her face, as expected, but the other two were focused on her breasts and crotch. He didn’t make eye contact at all. Michael was expecting you. ‘Girl, be a good twat and leave us.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Girl, exiting.Did he just call her a twat? I need to get your measurements.’
Claire didn’t like this at all but felt trapped. ‘You’re only temporary, you don’t need any of that.’
‘This is demeaning,’ said Claire. Here’s your ID. And so Claire found herself on a Monday arriving, nervous and scared, at the fifth floor offices of the political think-tank colloquially known as Titcage.
