Chapter 20
20
RUBY
I’ve never had a ‘spa day’ before. I’m so ready.
But what I'm not prepared for is the cheerful technician who greets me with, "So, are you ready for your Brazilian wax?"
I blink. I’m sure I misheard. "I'm sorry, but my what ?"
She smiles brightly, gesturing to the treatment table. "Your Brazilian wax. It's part of your package."
Of course it is. Because nothing says "serenity" like having all your body hair ripped out by the roots.
"Oh," I say with a weak laugh. "I've never had one before."
The technician – her name tag reads 'Sunshine', because of course – waves off my concern. "Don't worry, honey. I'll be gentle. Now, let's get you ready."
Before I can protest, I find myself lying on the table, bare-assed, wondering how exactly I got here. As Sunshine chatters away about the benefits of waxing, I have a moment of doubt. But then I think, how bad could it really be?
Turns out, the answer is… bad. Excruciatingly bad.
After having me undress from the waist down, she puts me in a frog position with my legs splayed and my lady bits on full display. I want to slam my knees together when the air hits me there, but how else is Sunshine going to work her magic?
After cleaning me and rubbing a few different lotions on, which is weird in itself because she’s getting all up in there , she smears some warm wax down one side of my labia. Guess they only do a bit at a time. That seems prudent. The wax itself is only slightly of warm and, actually feels kind of nice.
Then Sunshine picks up a strip of something, not sure if it’s paper or fabric, and places it right on the waxed area, which she rubs with her fingers. It’s a little weird, but I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.
Until I’m not.
With a quick whoosh, she pulls the paper off and even before the pain sets in, I see spots before my eyes and am certain I’m going to vomit. The intensity of the agony increases as if my poor body is only able to slowly realize what I’m doing to it
“HOLY FUCK!” I scream. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. I can’t take it. STOP!”
But she doesn’t. "Breathe through it, honey," she says as she pulls open my labia to make sure I don’t have a forest growing in there . "It'll be over in a couple minutes.”
Moving faster now, as if it would be a personal affront to her should I leave with my crotch half waxed and half hairy, she slaps her warm goo on my other side and does her thing with the paper before I can escape.
Then she asks about my butthole.
What in the actual fuck? How do women do this all the time?
I should get up and leave. I really should. I am under my own power and can do any damn thing I want. But the truth is, I am defeated. With neither pride nor dignity left, I allow Sunshine to lead me to my hands and knees in order to stick my ass in the air so she can clean me up between the cheeks.
I have a moment of clarity as hair I wasn’t aware I had is ripped from me— this is it . This is how I die. Not surrounded by my beloved books, but naked and afraid in a Costa Rican spa.
"All done!" she chirps while I’m still on my knees. “You look great. Smooth as a baby’s bottom. That hunky guy you’re with is gonna love it.”
I manage to lift my head from the table and with one eye see her beaming, proud of her handiwork. “We’re not togeth—" I start to explain. “Oh, never mind.”
She pats me on the back as I crawl off the table. "You did great for your first time!"
I manage a weak smile, feeling like I've just gone ten rounds with a professional boxer. "Thanks," I croak.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine," Sunshine says, handing me an ice pack. "Just pop this on any sensitive areas. Now, let's get you to your massage!"
I follow her on wobbly legs, the ice pack clutched to my... well, you know. We enter another room, and my heart sinks as I see two massage tables. Of course. A couples' massage. Because this day hasn't been awkward enough already.
I hear Chuck's voice in the hallway and panic. In a move that would make Olympic gymnasts proud, I leap onto the nearest table and yank the sheet over me just as the door opens.
Chuck saunters in, looking annoyingly relaxed. "Hey, Brooks! How was your?—"
He stops short when he sees I'm already on the table trying to relax. "Oh, uh, sorry. I'll just..."
I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling as Chuck awkwardly maneuvers around the room, trying to undress without giving me a show. But as he turns to climb onto his table, I can't help but sneak a peek.
Oh. My. God.
I knew the man was in good shape, he's a professional athlete, after all, but I wasn't prepared for... that. His back is a work of art, all sculpted muscle leading down to what can only be described as a truly spectacular ass.
I quickly avert my gaze as he turns back around, my face burning. Get it together, Ruby. This is Chuck. Your brother's teammate. The guy who, up until yesterday, you could barely tolerate.
"So," Chuck says as he settles onto his table, "where were you just now? I got shuffled off to some kind of facial treatment. It was actually kind of nice, once I got over the weirdness of having goopy shit smeared all over my face. It smelled nice. Still does. Can you smell me from over there? Kind of orangey, huh?”
I snort. There’s no way in fucking hell I’m telling him what I just went through. So, I try to ignore the way my newly sensitive skin is protesting against the massage table, the ice pack strategically positioned on the most painful bits. "Oh, you know. Just... a body scrub. Nothing exciting."
Chuck raises an eyebrow. "A body scrub, huh? Is that why you're clutching that ice pack under there like it's a life preserver?"
Busted. I open my mouth, trying to come up with a plausible lie, when our massage therapists enter the room.
"Welcome, beautiful souls!" a familiar voice booms. I lift my head to see none other than Leaf, our overly enthusiastic yoga instructor, beaming at us. "Are you ready to embark on a journey of relaxation and connection?"
Chuck and I exchange a quick panicked look.
As Leaf and his equally peppy partner start explaining the intricacies of their ‘soul-bonding massage technique,’ I can't help but wonder how I got here. Just days ago, I was a normal girl who’d been dumped by a guy and was looking forward to a quiet librarian retreat. Now, I'm lying nearly naked next to Chuck Newcomb, trying not to think about his perfect butt or the fact that I'm smoother than a dolphin in places where the sun don’t shine.
"Now," Leaf says, clapping his hands together, "let's begin with some deep breathing exercises. Feel your energy aligning with your partner's..."
I close my eyes, trying to focus on my breath and not on the lingering pain between my legs, nor the proximity of Chuck's muscular form.
This is fine. Everything is fine. I'm just getting a massage. With my brother's teammate. After getting all my body hair ripped out.
Just a day in the life of... not me. This is not how I live. I don’t do shit like this.
No, I get up in the morning, take the light rail to work, shelve books, go home, and do it all over again the next day.
As Leaf's hands start working on my shoulders, I make a silent vow—if I survive this massage without completely embarrassing myself, I'm never setting foot in a spa again. Give me a quiet library any day.
Actually, every day. I swear, when I get back home, I’m never leaving again. Travel and adventure are just not for me.
But my muscles tell me otherwise as they are kneaded and pulled, driving away the tension in my body and brain. I like this ! they’re saying. I want more ! Like I personally get no vote in the matter.
Naturally, I can't help but sneak another glance at Chuck. He catches my eye and winks, a small smile dancing on his mellowed-out face.
Okay, maybe spas aren't all bad. But next time, I'm definitely reading the fine print before agreeing to any "Couples' Serenity" packages.
And I'm bringing my own ice pack. Just in case.