Page 23 of Serenity
An inescapable fate. Whether I cleared my interest in Serenity with her father or not was of little consequence.
I was doomed either way.
WAXED OFF
“A little pull.”
Alongside the sensation of a little pull came the discomforting sting of my nether region and the fracturing of my facial features. A little pull. The mismatch of words in adjunct to the pain I felt disrupted a small fraction of sense in my subconscious, making the pain tolerable.
Overhead, the fluorescent light whizzed and hissed, further aggravating the sterile-inducing mood. I focused on the blinding bulb, attempting to distract myself from what was taking place in my center.
“How’s the family?”
Dream, my esthetician and friend, proffered the question. Simultaneously, warm wax was spread around a small section on the vulva of my vagina. The soothing sensation would be diminished once the wax was removed. She didn’t care about the welfare of my family. It was simply a question to sidetrack me from the horror yet to come.
“Good,” I winced as hair was jerked from my vulva. “They’re good.”
She repeated the action, causing me to question what level of insanity I’d endured to agree to this. Warm wax and,
“A little pull,”
fractured those questions to bits.
Again, I winced, freeing a single gangster tear from my right eye. Dream had accomplished the easiest of her task. Next on the list of my self-induced torture session were my pussy lips. Lips were the absolute worst. Always the worst.
“A little pull.”
Far from a little, the abrupt burning of my vagina lips left me ready to flee the table. Every time, I promised it would be my last time getting waxed. Lasering the petulant hairs away permanently was the agreed-upon solution, but somehow, I always ended up back on Dream’s table. A busy schedule was to blame, so… I settled for her little pulls.
“Just a few clean-up strips now,” she announced. “How was the date the other night?”
Dream’s question prompted my eyes to roll unsanctioned.
“Girl, a damn disappointment.”
These niggas.
These men.
They were all such disappointments.
But I wasn’t thinking about that date with Joe or whatever the fuck his name was. I was thinking about Duke’s fine ass. Thinking about his restraint and how much I both loved and hated it. I wanted him from the moment my eyes rested on him. From that night at Genevieve.
“What happened? I thought y’all were having a good time together. It was date number two for you all, right? A little pull.”
“Yes.”
Nostrils flared, I gritted as Dream snatched the remainder of hairs left on my bikini line. Well-versed in my hardships with modern dating, she sympathized. With my pubic hair, however, she didn’t give a fuck. The rear end was next.
“Knees to chest. And spill the tea. What happened on the date?”
Warm wax coated the anal section of my rear. As swiftly as she tugged for information, wax was tugged from my chocolate star. The rear was a mere fraction of the discomfort I felt in the front. Not half as bad as far as pain went. It ranked a two on my one-to-ten pain scale.
“It was going good until we got on the topic of careers…”
“Oh, hell. Bitch, what happened? A little pull. Just doing some final clean up to your rear.”
“He was…intimidated by me. By my success.”