I strode into the building, in a wild rush, having very nearly bumped into multiple people on the mad dash to get to the registration counter inside with as much speed as I could possibly muster. Sorry, everyone! Time waits for no woman. Especially not on their 21st birthday.
Once inside, I took a cursory glance at the room around me and found my spot in the queue to talk to the workers at the registration desk. Ahead of me stood three women. I flashed them a quick apologetic smile once they turned around to face the door to the registration office, evidently having been caught slightly off guard by the rush of loud, abrasive footsteps from the jog that brought me to the room. I may have slightly overdone it...
All four of us shared eager, borderline restless anticipatory looks on our faces, and with how revealing their clothes were, it didn't take any mental gymnastics for me to piece together that they were here for the same reason I was. With the understanding of our shared mission, I joined the line behind the women. Two of the women were shorter than me, standing at what I would estimate to be 5 '1 and 5 '4 respectively, and the last woman towered over even me, easily 6 '1 or 6 '2.
The 5 '1 woman had a cardamom brown complexion, presumably of South Asian Desi background, and a head full of ornately braided black hair, reaching the small of her back. Her petite, rounded facial features worked marvelously with her golden nose piercing. Her scarlet red frock hugged her body tightly, revealing her admittedly small yet shapely breasts, but surprisingly voluminous rear.
The 5 '4 woman, on the other hand, had quite pale skin and sharp facial features, with low cheekbones and bright eyes contributing to her charm. I couldn't put a finger on her ethnic background, but she had a vaguely Central European look, made more pronounced by the teal corset crop-top sitting on her lithe, peony frame. We were matching! The teal went oddly well with her platinum-dyed bob-cut hair, with an aqua streak running through it. I really digged the look.
The last woman, who was 6 '2, had both hair and skin similar to mine, although of a slightly darker, more caramel complexion. She exuded a calm confidence, her strong facial features pairing perfectly with the brass-golden portrait-neck top she wore, accentuating a bust and curvaceous build unbefitting of her height. The top of her areola was visible from the low-sitting top, an unapologetically alluring view. How unfair! I wasn't jealous, but definitely a bit slightly thrown off my game as the comparisons I was so used to making began attacking my mentality once more.
Not today, Mara! I pulled my off-shoulder top down another half inch, pulling my skirt up by the same margin. I wasn't here to play. Today is your day and no one is going to stop you from getting your FUP permit. It isn't a competition after all, and I know I'm a catch in my own right. I was quick to reassure myself. There was no room for self-doubt. Not today.
After what seemed like ages, with the women being called up one by one, it was finally my turn to go to the counter, and I could barely contain myself. I had tried to spy in on the conversation between the women in front of me when they went up, but the counter was too far to clearly make out the words, even with me conspicuously leaning in to shorten the distance. Functionally, I was going in blind, but that was okay. I was ready.
The lady at the counter was quick to get me started, seemingly intent on wasting no time, as she uninterestedly got my registration started.
"Name, Age, and reason for today's visit?" her dreary voice rang out. I quickly collected myself.
"Marzanna. Marzanna da Cunha, or Mara for short. 21 years old today actually! I'm here to get my Free Use Provider permit."
"Could I see proof of identification with your date of birth on it?"
"Absolutely, ma'am," I replied with conviction. I handed the woman my ID card, and with a quick look-over, I was handed back the card.
"Very well then. Confirmed 21 years of age, and intent to receive the FUP permit. Thank you for having everything ready, you'd be surprised how many hooligans come here with no documents..." the woman trailed off, handing me a clipboard with a sheet of paper on it reading Consent for Personal Bodily Inspection On-Site.
"What's this?" I asked, though not super interested in the answer, as I started signing before the woman was done explaining. Hey, doesn't hurt to ask, right?
"It's to make sure we have your permission to perform the bodily inspection in the office today. Everyone trying to get their permit has to get one to make sure everything is okay before your trainee free-use provider rights are vested to you. With great power comes great responsibility yada yada yada. Any who, the inspection is a bit... hands-on and... exposing, though I suppose you have no problem with that, right?" the woman asked, expecting my response, as she pensively pushed up her owl glasses.
My mind reeled from the last part of the woman's statement as the warmth that cascaded me on the bus on the trip here began once again blooming in my lower stomach, my imagination feasting on the occasion.
"Yes, ma'am. That sounds perfect, no worries from my end." I handed the signed paper and clipboard back to the women.
