“Bye! I love you! Have fun!” I yell out the door, waving like a maniac as the kids drive away. They’re not even paying attention. They’re teenagers. But I’m barely keeping my nerves in check as it is. If yelling my affections at my children while they drive away is what works, so be it.
Eventually, they’re out of sight and I have to close my front door. Leaning back against it, I close my eyes and take a series of deep breathes.
Tonight is the night. Tonight, I’m going to take the bull by the horns and enjoy the physical affections of dating.
Even in my head, that pun sounds really cheesy and over the top, but it’s been a long time. If I’ve learned anything about Ace over the last few weeks it’s that he’s extremely old fashioned and respectful. He won’t push me. He won’t pressure. And if I change my mind, he’ll back off. I know this with every fiber of my being.
No, what I’m the most nervous about is the prep for tonight.
Glancing up at my wall clock, I cuss under my breath. If I don’t book it I’m going to be late for my very first bikini wax. I’ve always wanted to get one, but never got around to it. It seems easy to just do a quick shave in the shower as needed. But with a new house, a new dating life, and some new-found freedom courtesy of my big brother, I might as well try something new. Especially since I got a discount. Aren’t Groupon’s great?
Grabbing my stuff, I race out the door and into my car, setting the GPS to guide me to the salon.
It only takes a few short minutes to reach the parking lot, not nearly enough time to get my nerves under control. But then I think of my plans for the evening and know I’m doing the right thing. Showing my hoo-ha to a total stranger for the purpose of ripping out my pubic hair is absolutely the right decision.
I giggle at my own ridiculousness and clamor out of the car before I go completely off the deep end and talk myself out of this.
My nerves immediately calm as I walk into the front room. It’s decorated in soft blues and greys, relaxing music piping through some hidden speakers, and one of those glass waterfalls off to the side. I love the sound of water. It’s so soothing.
“Hello. How can I help you?” The woman behind the desk is older than me. Probably in her 50’s. She’s dressed impeccably, hair pulled back in a soft chignon. Her eyes radiating warmth and calm.
Man, I really lucked out with this Groupon. This is a fancy place.
Feeling more confident in what’s about to happen, I approach with a genuine smile. “Yes, I have an appointment for a waxing.”
She looks down at the giant appointment calendar on her desk. Even her handwriting is impeccable. “Oh yes. Greer Declan?” I nod. “You’ll be seeing Rachel today. I see you’re a new customer, so I’m going to have you fill out a few papers for me.”
She hands me a clipboard and gives me instructions on what I’m signing. Within a few minutes, I’ve signed over my rights to sue for any accidental burns, which admittedly caused me to pause for a few seconds, and have been called to the back by a tiny woman.
Maybe tiny is a bit of an exaggeration. She’s definitely short and fit, like an ex-gymnast or cheerleader. She smiles brightly at me, her blond ponytail bobbing back and forth as she leads me into a small room. The walls sport the same color palette as the front and the same music. The biggest difference is the table in the middle of the room.
“I see you’re a new client,” Rachel remarks as she looks over the questionnaire I answered regarding allergies and treatment preferences. “We’re doing a Brazilian wax. Barely there or smooth as a baby’s bum?”
Her question throws me for a loop. I’m too busy processing what she just said. I accidentally scheduled a Brazilian wax, not a bikini wax. I may not be current on the latest grooming trends, but even I know there’s a big difference between the two. “Smooth as… wait, what?”
She smiles kindly. Obviously I’m not the first newbie she’s had. “I try to talk in code a bit. Makes it sounds less clinical. You have your choice of what style of wax you want. We can leave a patch, a strip straight down the middle, or get rid of it altogether. Your preference.”
It occurs to me that this is one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had with a stranger. And I’m a romance editor who has social media, so I’m used to weird.
“Since this is my first time, let’s leave a patch. But can it be kind of small? I know completely bare is the trend and all,” again, romance editor so I know things, “but that’s just weird.”
Rachel laughs and reaches into a cabinet, pulling out some clean towels. “It’s not as much of a trend as you think. I have so many more clients that just want to clean up a bit. Now, go ahead and strip off all your clothes from the waist down and put these on.” Handing me a paper thong that I’m praying doesn’t give me a paper cut and a small towel that gives me flashbacks to my last gynecology appointment, she adds, “Then have a seat on the table and cover yourself with the towel. I’ll be back in a few.”
Worried I’ll be caught with my pants around my ankles, my clothes are off faster than a stripper trying to pay her rent on time. Which leaves me more time to look around the room.
From this vantage point, it reminds me even more of being at the gynecologist. Tiny towel that barely covers me and certainly doesn’t cover my ass. A real sheet on the table, so that’s an upgrade. Giggling, I think about looking down to see if there are stirrups attached. If so, I might have to question which office I actually came to.
Wait… are there stirrups??
A quick peek underneath the table reassures me that I am in the salon after all. That was a close one. Although I’m pretty sure the paper thong just ripped in half with my stretching.
“Knock, knock.” I hear a rap on the door and Rachel sticks her head in the room, still smiling. I suppose she would be happy that it’s not her pubes getting ready to be yanked out.
Okay, breathe, Greer. It will be fine. Millions of women do this every day.
“Are you ready?”
Taking a deep breath, I nod Rachel’s direction. “A little nervous, but I’ll be okay.”
She closes the door behind her and crosses the room where a bowl of warm wax in a crock pot looking thing is waiting. Why didn’t I notice that before? Oh yeah. I was too busy inspecting the table of doom.
“That’s to be expected, but I promise, it’ll be over before you know it. Go ahead and lie back.”
I follow her instructions, praying the towel doesn’t fall off. It’s been a long time since anyone has been down there.
She moves my leg so it’s bent at the knee, foot resting against my other leg. The good news, I’m more bendy than I thought I was. The bad news… she moves the towel around exposing parts of me that have never seen the light of day.
“Are you comfortable?” she asks, gloved hand resting on my leg.
“Yep,” I squeak out, eyes shut tight as I wait for the rip of skin.
Instead, I feel a cool cloth run across my innermost thigh. That actually feels good, in an uncomfortably intimate way.
“I’m just cleaning the area of any body oils so the wax works better.” More rubbing. “And now for a nice corn starch powder.”
My body starts to relax. So far, this isn’t bad at all.
“And now for the wax.”
Again, not so bad. It’s warm and comforting. Like a mini heating pad on my inner thigh. She pats and presses and I close my eyes to rest. Why haven’t I done this before?
Riiiiiip.
“Ah!” I squeal, barely aware of her pressing down on the area of my skin that was just been violated in the most violent of ways. “Ohmygod, tell me you’re done!”
I can tell she’s trying not to laugh when she says, “That was about a two-inch section. We have three or four more of those before moving inward.”
“What?!” I screech, falling into the Lamaze breathing techniques I haven’t employed since Julie’s birth.
“Give it a second.” Rachel pushes down lightly for a few more seconds until the pain is all but gone.
Looking down to make sure there isn’t blood all over the table from a gaping wound, I realize, except for that initial sting, it actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
“Huh,” I remark mostly to myself at this realization.
Rachel looks down at me with another smile. “It passes quickly, doesn’t it?”
I nod, still surprised that I didn’t really have anything to be worried about in the first place.
“The first pull of your first time is always the worst,” she says, applying more wax to another part of my thigh. “Once the anticipation is gone, usually it’s not so bad.”
As if she’s trying to prove a point, she takes that moment to rip the next strip of wax off.
“Oof.” That’s the only reaction I give this time. “Wow. You’re right. I think my nerves made it so much worse. It doesn’t tickle. But it’s not horrible.”
She finishes up my inner thigh, moving to the next one where we go through the same process before cleaning up more intimate parts. While she works, she tells me all about how she got into the business of waxing other people’s business. I concentrate hard on her story while I try not to notice exactly where her fingers are pressing. Turns out, she is, in fact, a former gymnast and waxing was a regular thing when she wore tiny leotards on a daily basis. Makes sense that now some of her regular clients come from the same gym she used to train at.
Before I know it, I’m done and she’s having me sit up.
“Wow, that wasn’t bad at all, Rachel,” I remark. “You do a great job.”
“Well thanks. Now get on your hands and knees.”
I’m almost positive my brain shorts out because I’m not understanding the last thing she just said. “I’m sorry, what?”
She waves her hand around. “Hands and knees. We have one last area to wax.”
Blinking rapidly, I’m trying to figure out if she’s meaning what I think she’s meaning.
“Greer? You paid for a complete Brazilian. You know that right?”
“Yes,” I squeak out because no. No, I did not know that.
She turns away and grabs more cloths and popsicle sticks and other supplies that are now going to go in my bum. What is happening?
“This is actually the easiest part. We’ll get you nice and cleaned up back there. You won’t need to have it done again for at least a month.”
“That’s good.”
That’s good? No it’s not good. I’m about to have the hair on my butthole waxed off and I can’t even think because I didn’t even know I had hair on my butthole.
Following her instructions, I struggle to keep the tiny little towel draped over my backside. Of course, the effort is futile, and pointless as she just pulls it up, exposing my practically naked rear to the world.
Okay, not the world. But it is facing the door. That’s going to be awkward if someone accidentally mistakes this room for the restroom.
Placing her hand on my lower back, Rachel moves my last of the paper panties to the side and spreads the wax where the sun don’t shine.
Ohmygod, there is hot wax in my ass and lord help me, but it actually feels good.
I’m going to hell. I just know it.
Riiiiiip.
The wax comes off and a cool cloth comes on so fast, I barely register that it’s over and done with until she tells me to turn back over and relax.
“Wait, that’s it?” I question, just in case she’s tricking me again.
“That’s it.”
“For real this time? I don’t have like, hang over the side of the bed or anything to reach some obscure hairs I don’t know about?”
She laughs and removes her gloves, making a snapping sound. “Nope. All obscure parts are officially hairless now.” She pats my leg again. I’m sure she’s used to having to comfort people while they get over the shock of their first time. “Take your time getting dressed. I’ll meet you outside.”
The door closes behind her and I’m left still feeling a little stunned by the turn of events. One thing is for sure though.
If Ace is having any thought of backdoor action, he can forget about it. I’ve had more than enough fingers there for one day.