Page 139 of A Better Place

I raise my hands in surrender, still wondering how the hell I was going to salvage the hair covered in the wax that was sticking on parts of her eyebrows and forehead.

She huffs. “So, I grabbed the little spreading stick and got what I thought was an appropriate amount of wax then spread the lava on my—” Her cheeks burn bright red as she coughs out. “—area. It burned. A lot. I figured well, my hair must be singed off. No need to wax. But no such luck.”

I choke down a laugh.

“Anyway…”

Ah, hell, there was more? Just how long has she been in here?

“I grabbed one of the wide strips because I figured the bigger the strip, the more leverage, you know?”

“Makes sense,” I murmur, trying desperately not to smile, because it actually makes no sense whatsoever. It doesn’t work. I rub my hand over my face to hide it.

“I thought so too!” she says excitedly as if I completely agreed with her asinine logic and understand her inability to read directions correctly. “Then, after the wax is smeared in the right place, I take the strip and press it into the goo. Only, the wax may have still been too hot and runny because it just sort of bled through the strip. By this time my hand that I used to press the strip into the wax is all sticky, and the strip is almost flimsy. I took a deep breath and r-r-r-i-i-i-p!” She makes the hand motion along with the ripping sound, and now I can’t hold back the laughter. “I saw stars. STARS, James!” she yells, pointing at me like I had something to do with it. “The pain! Oh, the pain. Sweet mother, it hurts! So, after the blinding pain finally settled, I thought, well, I can’t stop now. And I had to look at the strip, you know? To make sure that it actually helped, or whatever.”

I wipe a tear from my eye and beg her to continue. “And? Don’t leave me hanging, beautiful.”

“And nothing! Not one single hair! Dammit!” she hollers while shaking her fist, having to pry her fingers apart when she tries releasing her fingers because they are covered in wax. “I thought. Okay, maybe that side was just not ready or something?”

“Not. Ready,” I repeat. How the hell does a strip prepare itself anyway?

“Whatever.” She motions at me with the flick of her wrist. “I moved to the other side of my… you know… area.” She whispers in a low voice like I’ve never seen an area before and had to tread lightly lest I scar said location. “By this time, I can literally hear my heartbeat pounding away in my ears. It sounded like a steel drum. I thought, well, I’m in this deep, so I can’t go back now. I take the wax-covered stick and put more of the molten lava on my other side. It’s not quite as hot now, but it’s still to the point where I have to look down to make sure nothing just sizzled away. After using another one of the big strips — because, remember, leverage—” she says logically.

“Leverage. Got it.” If she says leverage one more time I’m going to lose it. And I’m barely hanging on as it is.

“I grabbed hold of the corner and r-r-r-i-i-i-p again. Only this time. Nothing came off. NOTHING! As in… no wax. No hair. NOTHING! I threw the malfunctioning strip on the ground because clearly it was the stupid defective strip’s fault that time. But then I had all this hardened wax just kind of sitting there, so I had to remove it.” She points to the ground where I see a washcloth covered in wax.

“So you rubbed it off?”

“Well, I tried. But as you can imagine, it’s kind of sticky. I did the best I could do and got it cleaned off. Went back a THIRD time. Yes, third. I have inflicted this pain upon myself three times now, mind you. Not a single hair has been removed in all this busted-up mess. So, back I go to smear and rip and hope for the best, but as you can see… I have been defeated by the MOOM wax. And bonus is that it’s in my hair — and not the hair I wanted it in. And on my forehead. I have to pee but well… I kind of closed my legs slightly after the last time I tried and failed to rip the strip off, and now — I’m stuck. So yup. That’s the gist of it. That’s what I need help with. Getting hair off and my legs to separate — and possibly maybe help getting off the tub because I’m a little stuck to that too.”

There’s no way I can hold back. I fall to my knees laughing.

“James! Just wait ‘til we try it on your chest!”

I’m wiping the tears from my eyes but manage to inform her, “Uh, no. I’m not planning on modeling any time soon, so I have no intentions of shaving — or waxing —my chest hair.”

“Little help? Please?”

I’m still on the ground from laughing so I crawl over to her. She’s looking so pathetic on the tub, her big eyes staring at me.

“Hi,” I tell her when I get close.

She sighs. “Hi. This was supposed to be kind of for you. Or us. Whatever. I wanted to surprise you. And it’s your sister’s fault! She and Lauren…”

I hold up my hand. “I’ll stop you there. Any time she and Lauren are together, they come up with doozies. Nothing good comes of their ideas.”

“You tell me that now,” she mumbles. “They told me it wasn’t that bad.”

“Carly, it’s ripping hair off your body with hot wax. When does that ever equal not bad?”

“Well, I’ve done my eyebrows. It’s never this bad.”

“I can’t be certain because we are made from entirely different parts, for which I’m very grateful, but I’m pretty confident that I can say your area, as you call it, is probably slightly more sensitive than your eyebrows.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Can you just help me?”

“In a minute.” I smile.

“Wha—”

I cut her off by kissing her. My hands go into her hair at the base of her neck that’s not also covered in wax. My tongue begs for entry to which she immediately allows. I angle her head back so I have better access, and she responds by moaning slightly. I know if I continue this I won’t be able to stop, and we have something a bit more pressing to deal with at the moment. Like ungluing her girly bits from the tub — and her legs. I pull away from her just slightly, rub my nose up and down her neck, then rest my forehead on hers.

“Sorry, I needed to do that first. Damn, I missed you.”

She swallows and croaks out, her voice husky, “No problem. I missed you too.”

I smile at her. “Let’s see what we can do about unsticking you.”

After several minutes of spreading lotion and very gently pulling apart her legs, she’s free, albeit with several curse words involved. She also swore me to secrecy. I denied it. There’s no way I can’t at least tell Tess. Or let her tell it. But this story — it’s too good. It should be on the internet. It’s like those reviews of Sugarless Gummy Bears. They bring people happiness. And this would bring others so much joy.

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