I squirmed when I realised what she was asking. ‘I’m not so sure about doing anything down south.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘I’m very gentle.’
Oh, I had no doubt. As she rinsed my sudsy hair, I considered my options. I’d been interested in a Brazilian for a while now, but I’d never been able to work up the courage to book one. I mean, having my eyebrows waxed left me teary and blotchy. Having that waxed? I’d probably pass out or scream like a baby.
But as Blake’s skilful hands worked conditioner into my hair, I started to wonder what it would feel like to have her hands on me. That was an incredibly intimate procedure. I’d be laid bare to her and completely vulnerable. Just the thought of her soft hands manipulating my flesh left me breathless. How could I survive the real thing?
Blake’s fingers massaged the back of my neck as she waited for the conditioner to soak in thoroughly. ‘So what do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted nervously. ‘I’m not a huge fan of pain.’
She grinned mischievously as she kneaded my neck. ‘I know a really good way to make you forget about the pain.’
My belly wobbled as her insinuation hit home. Electric zings arced across my chest. My nipples drew tight as visions of Blake’s fingers and mouth between my thighs danced before my eyes. Was I really considering putting myself through the hell of a Brazilian wax for the chance to share an illicit tryst with her? Yes. Yes, I totally was considering just that.
Swallowing hard, I met her unwavering gaze and nodded. ‘All right.’
She smiled triumphantly. ‘Great.’
I vibrated with anxiety and excitement as Blake finished my shampoo and conditioning and wound my hair tight in a towel. She grasped my hand and helped me sit up in the squishy vinyl chair. My gaze fell to our interlaced fingers. She sported an electric-blue manicure that looked so playful and flirty compared to my rather staid French tips. We reluctantly parted hands as I stood and put my hand to the damp towel wrapped around my wet hair.
She gestured to my stylist’s station. ‘After you get your hair done, I’ll find you and take you to one of the private rooms in the back.’
‘OK.’ My wild emotions settled down a bit as I headed over to my stylist’s open chair. Candie draped a cape across my front and fastened it at the nape of my neck. As she unwound the towel and wiggled her fingers through my hair, we discussed how much I wanted trimmed and whether or not I wanted a blow dry and straightening. Once that was settled, she got to work and struck up a conversation with me.
I tried to pay attention, but I kept catching glimpses of Blake in the mirror as she dealt with other clients at the busy upscale salon and spa. We exchanged knowing smiles that sent swarms of butterflies racing through my belly. The quick trim and style was the longest thirty minutes of my life. I wanted out of that chair and into one of those private rooms at the back of the salon. Oh, sure, there was going to be pain, but there was also going to be a lot of pleasure.
And I really wanted to get to the pleasure part.
As Candie whipped free the cape, Blake casually joined us. I tried to keep my excitement in check as the three of us chatted about my hair. The taut string of sexual tension between Blake and me kept pulling us closer and closer together until our arms were brushing. Every tiny contact sent shivers down my spine. God, I couldn’t wait a moment longer. I needed to touch her.
She seemed to sense my need and gave a little wave of her hand. ‘Come on. I’ll get us set up in one of the private rooms.’
Relieved, I shot a quick smile at Candie before pivoting on my heel and trailing Blake to the back of the salon. My gaze shifted to the playful cut of her hot-pink ruffled skirt. It made the black salon T-shirt she wore pop. The sexy swing of her hips enthralled me. I tried not to openly ogle her derrière as we passed by the row of occupied chairs and sinks at the shampoo station, but it was so damn hard to drag away my gaze.
I practically vibrated with anticipation as we neared our room. The knowledge that something awfully naughty and totally against the rules was about to happen left me weak in the knees. My pussy actually pulsed as my clit throbbed and that first slick of arousal seeped from my core. My breasts ached. My nipples begged for attention. I was suddenly very glad of the moulded cups of my bra that hid those stiff peaks. At least they allowed me to maintain an outward semblance of modesty.
I slipped by Blake and into the room she indicated. She flipped the ‘occupied’ sign on the door. My gut clenched as I heard the telltale snick of the door locking behind us. She leaned back against it and stared at me. I clasped my hands together in front of me and chewed my lower lip. She unsettled me. I was used to being the aggressor in my relationships, but I had the distinct feeling Blake wanted that role.
And I liked it. I found the idea of deferring to her rather intoxicating.
‘Why don’t you go behind the curtain there and change.’ She pointed to a screened-off area in the corner of the room. ‘There are paper undies in the drawers marked by size, and some sheets. Just wrap one around your waist and come back to the table.’
My gaze moved to the paper-covered table and the counter covered in waxing supplies. My bravery started to diminish as I spotted the cloth strips and wooden sticks. Then I remembered Blake’s offer to make the pain go away. That put a little spring in my step as I headed for the curtain. I made quick work of toeing off my pumps and peeling out of my cuffed trousers and simple panties. I felt a bit ridiculous as I emerged from behind the curtain wearing the paper undies with a sheet wrapped around my waist. Not exactly the sexiest of looks.
I slid onto the table and reclined against the padded top. As I rearranged the sheet across my thighs and lower belly, Blake moved into view and smiled down at me. She’d wheeled over a cart holding pots of hot wax, little spreader sticks and various sizes of cloth strips. She picked up a bottle of lavender-coloured liquid and soaked a cotton ball. Wordlessly, she swept the primer over my eyebrows to prepare my skin for the wax.
My fingers curled into fists at my sides as the hot wax smeared across my skin. This part I could handle. It wasn’t until her fingers started to smooth the strip of cloth that the dreadful panicky sensation invaded my belly. I tried not to hyperventilate as I anticipated the rip and sting of the first bit of cloth being lifted quickly from my skin.
A soft yelp escaped my lips as the cotton whooshed free of my skin. I’d been waxing and plucking my eyebrows for the better part of twelve years, and I still couldn’t get a grip on the pain. Thankfully, Blake worked fast and efficiently as she shaped my eyebrows.
Try as I might, I couldn’t enjoy the feel of her hands on me. My excitement deflated as I realised that, although this illicit tryst we’d planned with secret looks and a bit of innuendo sounded like it would be hot, hot, hot, it was probably going to be torture for me.
‘Maybe we won’t do the Brazilian today,’ Blake remarked as she smoothed the cooling gel across my abused eyebrows with a clean cotton ball. Her fingertips caressed my cheek. ‘It’s not for everyone.’
I glanced up at her and caught her amused smile. ‘How can you tell?’
‘Well –’ she set aside the cotton ball and stroked my upper arms ‘– you’ve ripped the paper under your hands to shreds, and your knees are shaking under that sheet.’
‘Oh,’
