Waxing is for Pussies

By: Giselle Renarde | Other books by Giselle Renarde

Published By: loveyoudivine

Published: Jun 23, 2011

ISBN # 5057_1051

Word Count: 6,575

Heat Index

Claire is a butch dyke who doesn't go in for all the "girly" stuff. Her girlfriend Billie works at a salon, joyfully painting nails all day. When Billie takes up hot waxing, she asks Claire to be her test subject. She also asks her salon buddy Soo Jin to give her hand. How will Claire and Billie react when Soo Jin takes the request for help as an invitation to play?

Excerpt:

“Have you ever had a bikini wax?” Billie asked as she ate.



I laughed. “Do I look like someone who gets waxed?”



With a shrug, she said, “I don’t know. You got a pedicure once.”



“From you,” I added as she lifted a piece of sushi saturated in soy
sauce to her mouth. “I just wanted to meet you. Every time I tried to
say hi on the street, I chickened out. I get nervous talking to
beautiful girls.”



Billie smiled as she chewed. “Want one?”



I waved away the sushi. “Nah, I already ate, but thanks.”



Shaking her pretty head, she leaned forward to kiss my cheek. I knew
she’d have left a big red lipstick stain in her wake, but I left it for
the moment. “Not sushi, sweety.” She cooed like a crafty little dove. “A
bikini wax. Want one?”



Without meaning to, I laughed out loud. There were so many reasons to
say no, I didn’t know where to begin. “What, you mean at the salon?
Because I’m pretty sure your boss just banned me for life.”



“We could do it after hours,” she said with a sneaky grin. “I’m a key holder.”



What other excuses could I come up with? “I’ve heard it hurts like hell.”



“Oh, don’t give me that.” She spread some wasabi on her sushi and topped
it with pickled ginger before setting it in a pool of soy sauce. “You
have how many tattoos? I think you can handle a little hot wax.”



She sure wasn’t making it easy for me to resist the call of the wax. I
tried to think up a better excuse than, “I’m a pussy and I can’t take
the pain,” but it wasn’t happening.



“Besides,” she went on, “I think you’d taste great bare. My lips would
like it.” When she winked at me, my jaw swung open. Hell, yeah! My lips
would like it too! “And—who knows?—you might just enjoy the process.”



Rising from the footstool, she pulled down on the hem of the black
cotton dress that served as her uniform. The one last piece of sushi,
she left in front of me in its plastic box. I stared at it in displaced
awe. After tiptoeing to the door, she turned around and said, “Come down
after hours. We’ll have a good time.”