“Have you ever been pleasured by a woman?”
she asked. I shook my head, words caught in my throat.
“A woman’s touch is the best,”
she said.
“Women understand other women. And I know exactly what you want right now.”
She leaned in so close that her lips were just a few millimeters from my aching body.
She looks to be around thirty and impeccably put together. Her face is flawlessly made up, with striking red lipstick perfectly matching her polished nails. A sharp black bob frames her defined features, making her green eyes pop. Her crisp, white beautician’s uniform hugs her slim figure, radiating absolute professionalism.
In contrast, my eighteen-year-old self is tucked into loose sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. My hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail, and my face is completely bare, without a trace of makeup.
Holy crap I feel inadequate!
“Lisa Smith?”
therapist woman asks me her green eyes piercing into me.
“Yes”
I stammer heat rising in my face.
Why am I blushing? This woman is making me feel seriously uncomfortable.
“Is this your first waxing?”
I nod. My mouth is dry. I’m not sure my voice will work.
“And you’re having underarms and Hollywood wax today?”
I swallow painfully, nod again and look at my feet.