Alison was always getting caught up in one cause or another. Her husband, Mark, tried to be supporti

Alison was always getting caught up in one cause or another. Her husband, Mark, tried to be supportive, but she sometimes went overboard. One morning, she told him she was going to be at a protest in the city, near Mark’s office.

At lunchtime, Mark decided to see if he could find her in the protest. Just as he arrived, the police were beginning to make arrests. He saw a small, petite woman in bodypaint being handcuffed. When she turned, he could see it was his wife.

He rushed over and called her name, telling the officers it was his wife. She motioned for him to back off, as if she were proud to be arrested for the cause. One of the officers held him back and told Mark he could pick her up at central booking.

“Where are your clothes?” Mark shouted to his wife. He had no idea why she was naked or wearing bodypaint. She couldn’t hear or didn’t answer and was quickly hurried away by the cops.

One of the other protesters got Mark’s attention and explained that they were protesting clothing manufacturers exploiting natural resources. She seemed to think the arrest was no big deal.

“They just like to harrass us,” the woman told him. “A lot of times, they don’t even make a record of the arrest,” she said, which prompted her to launch into a longwinded conspiracy theory about the police.

Mark tried to find Alison at central booking, but got the runaround. She wasn’t answering her phone and Mark had no way to contact her, so, after several hours, he headed home to wait for her. She was already there.

“Oh, the cops let me go,” she said, having washed off all of her bodypaint, she was wearing loose fitting clothes, watching documentaries about hemp. “You don’t have to worry, I’ve been arrested tons of times,” she said casually. “Never been booked yet,” she added proudly.

“How is thay even possible?!?” Mark asked, shocked at her revelation and how calm she was about it.

“Well, usually it’s just one cop,” she said. “They’re pretty young, the ones they send to cover the protests. Once we’re in the car, usually a blowjob is all it takes.” Before Mark could react, she chuckled unnervingly. “But these boys today were a lot more work. I think the big one fucked me three times! Glad I got his number,” she added. “He was the one who gave me the ride home,” she said, as if that answered her husband’s astonished stare.