She holds the question in her posture — chin tilted, chest forward, daring you to weigh in. Her breasts are full and heavy, the kind that command attention without asking for it, and right now they're the center of a very specific debate.

Your eyes trace the curve where skin pulls taut, imagining a small gleam of metal there — or the clean, unmarked softness that exists right now, warm and untouched. Both versions play out in your mind with equal pull.

She watches you consider it, enjoying the power of the unresolved. The answer matters less than the fact that she's making you think about it this carefully.