Page 66 of The Money Shot
“Shh!” Nessa’s voice cut in, sharp but not sharp enough to mask her laughter. “Moira, there are old ladies out here! Keep it PG.”
“Fine,” Moira said, giggling. “But, you know, when he’s on his knees, remember you told me he needed that patch of hair on his lower back waxed?”
“Oh yeah, girl,” Nessa said, her voice growing louder. “I remember. Hey, Lola! Wax his back too!”
My head whipped toward Lola in alarm. “No, no, no, no—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Lola interrupted, pointing a lacquered pink nail at me. “Turn over, honey. Back’s next.”
I groaned and swiped at my eyes—what dignity did I have left to save at this point?—then flipped onto my stomach. Theleopard-print sheet barely covered me, leaving my bare ass exposed. I buried my face in the table, hoping if I pressed hard enough, I’d just disappear into it.
Lola whistled low. “Oof, they weren’t kidding.”
“Oh my God,” I mumbled into the table, wishing for death. “Can we just get this over with?”
She didn’t bother answering. The warmth of the wax spread over my lower back, and I clenched every muscle I had.
As she pressed a strip onto the wax and smoothed it down, all I could think about was Jack. Would he like this? Would he even notice? Maybe he’d prefer me without all the extra hair. If he did, then maybe—maybe—this would all be worth it.
“You’re doing great, sugar,” Lola murmured, as if I’d just run a marathon instead of laying there naked while she ripped my dignity off in chunks.
She yanked the strip off, and I yelped, biting my lip to keep from screaming again.
From the hallway, Moira’s voice floated through the door. “You think she’s doing his legs too? Because in that one video—”
“Moira!” Nessa barked. “Keep it PG!”
“Well, I was just saying!” Moira shot back, clearly unimpressed by the reprimand.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for it all to end. Lola patted the tender spot on my back, sending a fresh wave of humiliation through me. “All done, honey. Fabulous ass, by the way. You’re smooth as a baby’s bottom.”
“Great,” I croaked.
She peeled off her gloves and gave me a satisfied smile. “Now, let’s move on to your facial. Gotta get that glow, baby.”
Lola hummed to herself as she prepped for the facial, arranging jars and brushes on a little tray with the focus of someone performing life-saving surgery. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about how I was paying for theprivilege of being tortured. My skin felt like it was on fire, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from the indignity of having my butt critiqued by a woman old enough to be my grandmother.
“There we go,” Lola said, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. “Let’s get you glowing, sugar. Close your eyes and relax.”
Relax? Sure, that was easy—for someone who wasn’t me.
I exhaled slowly, willing my body to melt into the table, when the door burst open. I shot up, clutching the sheet to my chest like I was the heroine in a Victorian drama.
“Liam!” Nessa’s voice rang out. “Oh my God, Lola, you do such amazing work!”
Moira was right behind her, eyes wide and bright. “Wow, look at him! You’re like a whole new man already.”
Before I could protest, Nessa strode right up to the table and yanked the sheet down to my knees. “Let me see the bikini wax!”
“Nessa!” I gasped, too stunned to move.
“Oh, relax, honey,” she said, waving me off. “We’re all friends here.”
Moira leaned in, scrutinizing my crotch like it was a piece of art in a gallery. “Wow, Lola, this is… flawless. He’s so smooth.”
Lola beamed, clearly taking pride in her handiwork. “I know, right? Like butter. I got the magic touch.”
“Girl, you really do,” Nessa said, patting Lola’s arm. Then she turned to Moira. “You know what? That girl I go to sucks. Book me an appointment for a bikini wax with Lola.”