Page 22 of For Pleasure Or Worse

“So Frankie and I are public enemy number one at the Duran wedding,” she noted. “Got it.”

“For being two of the most delightful and giving people on the planet. Whom we love and cherish so much we couldn’t imagine it any other way.” I put Ophelia on speaker phone to free my hands and gave the esthetician beside me a silent thumbs-up. “You are so welcome for him, by the way. Not everyone gets to live out their real-life Hallmark Christmas dreams.”

“Thank you,” she said. “For not only inspiring orgasms all over the internet, but also all over the bedroom in my apartment. And the kitchen, and the shower, and the linen closet, interestingly enough.”

“I want to know the details.”

“You really don’t.”

“Please,” I pressed. “Sex biz over here is taking everything out of me. Mateo works late every night now that Frankie’s gone, and I’m pulling double time between the sheets. Do you understand how boring playing DJ on the downstairs turntable gets when the vault of daydreams runs dry? I can only picture Winston Duke naked so many times.”

“Playing DJ on the what?” Ophelia laughed.

“Masturbating, Phee. I am sick and tired of masturbating ten feet down the hall from Mateo’s mother, because that isallI can think about when I’m doing it. Indulge me. Does Frankie hold your hand when he goes down on you? Does he wash your hairall slow and clumsy-like when you’re in the shower? Does he put a towel down on the bed? God, please say yes.”

Phee sucked in a deep breath. “What if…I tell you he puts the towel in the dryer first?”

“Oh, shut the fuckup,” I yelped, followed by a low hiss as a strip of wax was ripped from between my legs.

“Where are you right now?” she asked. I focused on the dim ceiling lights above me, balancing my phone on my chest and butterflying my knees apart. “Are you getting your pussy waxed while you’re on the phone with me?”

“How do you know that?” I looked up as if Ophelia’s bright blue eyes would be watching me from across the room. Another hot dollop of wax hit my skin and I tensed.

“I have your location on,” she said. “Duh.”

“Duh,” I repeated. “I have a very specific client this afternoon who requests a borderline hairless cat. I make him settle for Bermuda Triangle. Mateo isn’t a fan of hardwood floors and neither am I.”

“Have you ever seen a guy clean-shaven down there?”

“Atrocious,” I commented.

“Agreed,” she said. “I call those men Pinocchios. And the rug burn on your nose isnotworth it.”

My esthetician let out a humored grunt before ripping another long strip of wax off me. “Some of us have a gag reflex.” I released the breath I’d been holding in anticipation of the pain. “Notme. But some of us.”

“So what’s the deal with the client?” Ophelia asked.

“He’s a loner with internet access. We chat once a month for a few hours, and I make a couple thousand dollars talking about the weather with my tits out while he jerks off.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” I shrugged. “It’s almost Valentine’s Day, I’m going to be drowning in company-keeping for the next two weeks.Then the personalized requests. Do you know that people gift their significant others videos of Mateo and I boning?”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “It’s like Build-A-Bear for porn.”

“Exactly,” I sang. “Why can’t you be my real sister? Or my mom? You basically already are like my mom. I never would have passed that Excel lecture sophomore year without you writing my assignment schedule out on our whiteboard. I’ll call you Mommy any day if it means I’ll feel like less of an idiot to my own family.”

“You arenotan idiot. You are a beautiful, smart, badass businesswoman with more heart and work ethic than anyone I’ve ever met. And you’re going to be married to the male version of yourself in six short months.”

I took a deep, reprieving breath. “Hopefully I’ll just fly under the radar for the most part so I can plan this wedding between disappointed phone calls and obligatory events.”

“Don’t overstress, Frankie and I are handling everything we can. The Vegas stay is secured, everyone’s been informed?—”

“What did my sisters say?”

“Well.” A nervous little laugh escaped her. “They didn’t exactly answer the group chat.But, I know they received the message because I was sent money for…‘Natalia’s final fuck’.” She paused. “And I’m putting together all the scheduling and reservations for that weekend, so it’s going to be epic and I hope you remember none of it.”

“That makes two of us.” My wax specialist sat back and motioned for me to flip around. “Gotta go, I need to spread my cheeks for the butthole strips.”

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