My heart pounded. Really? Open them just like that under these medical office lights? This was not like the visit to the gynecologist. At least I had paper wrapped around my waist so I couldn’t see the doctor going about her business.
“You okay. Open legs,” she said, prodding my knees apart.
I closed my eyes. I thought that might help. Plus, those lights were starting to really irritate me. My body jumped at the first contact of warm wax. She spread it all over. I don’t remember telling her exactly what I wanted. Avery said some girls just do bikini waxes. A Brazilian meant it all came off. Did I tell Luana I wanted a Brazilian?
“Deep breath,” Luana said.
Deep breath? Avery wasn’t joking. Oh my God, I’m about to die . . .
One rip! and one very loud “FUCK!”
“I know,” Luana giggled, and fanned my vagina. She fanned it. And it felt so good.
“Two more times for the bad, and then good,” she explained.
“Two more times for the bad” kept repeating over in my head as she ripped the hair out on the other side and then the majority of hair on my mound. She pressed her hand against my vagina and fanned me rapidly. I thought I should feel embarrassed that her hand was pressed against my open legs, but it soothed the pain, and I didn’t want her to stop. I was sweating on the paper cover. I could feel my back radiating heat like a furnace.
“Good girl,” Luana said. “Now easy part.”
“How long have you been doing this?” I gasped.
She smiled. “I’m thirty-three. I give waxes at fourteen.”
“Fourteen years old?!”
She giggled again and went to work ripping out the rest of the errant hairs. I didn’t even feel it. She used a magnifying glass and tweezers to get a few finer hairs. All the while she worked she explained the hygienic and sexual advantages of waxing. I understood none of it. She also explained how I needed to take care of my skin. I didn’t understand that either apart from some words that sounded vaguely close to “Neosporin” and “fluffy poof.”
After it was over she rubbed baby powder all over me. I admit that there was something strangely erotic about it, and suddenly I realized why Avery was a sexual deviant. She never really gave me details about Gavin, but every once in awhile she’d let something slip, and it was always scandalous. Now I understood. She got waxes. That’s what happens to a girl when she gets a wax. She turns . . . sexual.
“Okay, now turn over,” Luana instructed.
“Huh?”
“Over over,” she said, motioning with her hands.
Oh my God.
“No, I’m okay,” I said.
Luana giggled. Again. “You be fine. We get backside and make it pretty.”
Make it pretty?
“Um . . .”
“Your husband like,” Luana explained.
“I’m not married.”
“Your boyfriend like.”
“I . . . he . . . um . . . no.”
Luana encouraged me by pushing on my arm. I turned over because I didn’t know how to argue with someone who couldn’t speak English all that well. Violent shaking of my head didn’t seem to translate, and she didn’t look like she was letting me leave until she put some hot wax in my crack. I brought most of the paper table cover with me as I rolled over. We had fun peeling it off my sweaty body.
“Please, Luana,” I whispered. I swear I thought I was going to cry.
“Spread,” came the cheery reply.
“I can’t. I can’t do this. No one has ever seen me up close and personal like this.”
“You have cute booty! Let’s make better. Now spread.”
Okay. The woman barely spoke English yet she knew the word “booty”?
Aside from feeling like I shit myself, the wax wasn’t that bad. It was over in two seconds flat, and then Luana rubbed more baby powder on me.
“You look,” she said as I sat up on the table feeling utterly violated.
“At?”
“Look look!”
“My vagina?”
Luana laughed. “You so silly. Look how pretty you are.”
I glimpsed myself, something I was too scared to do while she was ripping out my hair. And I gasped. All gone. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Completely bald and exposed.
“See? Pretty,” Luana said, patting my thigh.
I smiled weakly and let her kiss my face before telling me she’d see me in the lobby for payment.
“So?” Avery asked on our way out.
“You’re a bitch and a half.”
Avery burst out laughing. “Look, if I would have told you everything, you’d never agree to come.”
“Damn right!” I snapped.
“You could have told her no,” Avery replied.
“I tried. I. Tried. The woman barely speaks English. All she knows how to do is giggle.”
Avery unlocked the car doors, and I climbed in.
“Cadence. You’ll be happy you turned over.”
I shook my head, yanking on the seatbelt and shoving the buckle in place.
“Easy on my baby, please,” Avery said.
“What does that mean? I’ll be glad I turned over?”
Avery smiled that all-too-familiar mischievous smile.
“Look, all I’m saying is that men in our generation are much more . . . experimental. And I’ve learned that it’s not so bad to experiment. It can be quite nice, actually.”
“Oh. My. God. I am not hearing this,” I replied. “You’re eighteen! You’re like a baby! What are you doing having anal sex?!”
“First of all, I’m not a baby. I’m a grown woman. Check it. Second, I never said anything about anal sex. I said I experiment,” Avery clarified.
“Yeah, which means you’re having anal sex.”
Avery shrugged. “All right.”
“All right as in yes, you’re having anal sex?” I couldn’t let it go. It was fascinating and revolting and . . . fascinating. Really freaking fascinating.
“You haven’t earned the details, sister. Sorry,” Avery replied with a smug smile.
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t even care.”
“You totally care.”
“You’re right. I totally care! Please tell me, Avery. I’m dying to know,” I pleaded.
“I feel like I’m corrupting you or something.”
“You are, and I don’t care. I just have to know about this because my mind refuses to believe it.”
Avery let out a long sigh and nodded. “Okay, first and most important: Lube.”