Chapter 4
I unpackand take several trips to the supermarket to buy all the things I need that I didn’t want to pack: toiletries, cooking supplies, new sheets for the bed, a hair dryer. It’s good to practice my conversational Italian—which I’m learning via an app—but also makes me very glad that the MBA program I’m enrolled in is taught in English.
My disastrous night with Santo is still pretty fresh in my mind, and I stare at the aisle of shaving creams, razors, and electrical implements that are, I’m guessing, by their packaging and color and some handy outlines on the back of the box, intended for women’s landscaping.
If I’m going to consider dating again or even just meeting someone in my classes, maybe I need to sit down and consider what I want to do to maintain myself.
I would rather do some research than buy something spur-of-the-moment that goes to waste, so I check out with my normal toiletries and head back to my new place.
Once unpacked, I pick up my phone and text my friends for advice.
Emma
Are y’all available for a phone call?
Sara
I am.
Tessa
Me too.
Jade
I’m out grocery shopping. The fridge is barren. Is this like a call-to-catch up or is this a level 5 emergency?
I take a deep breath.If I’m actually going to go through with this, then I should get more comfortable talking about it with my favorite people in the world.
If I’m going to try dating,I type.
Delete, delete.
What do you do about your–
Delete, delete.
Ugh. I hate that these words aren’t sexy or fun for me. I type out a third attempt and hit send with a cringe.
Emma
I’m looking for um landscaping advice?
Two seconds later,my phone buzzes with an incoming video call from Jade. I answer, and the screen fills with her face, her cheeks flushed and hair bouncing as she power-walks.
“What happened to grocery shopping?”
“Yeah, well, I had just started, and all there was in the cart so far was wine, so I ditched it and am going home so I can give you one hundred percent of my focus. Plus, someone once told me it was extremely inappropriate to discuss our sex lives in the dairy section.” Jade grins at me.
Me. Someone was me.
“I thought you were out of food?”
“Babe, I would rather eat plain spaghetti than miss this.”
The screen swaps over and I see Tessa in her kitchen. We say hello and then Sara pops in. It looks like she’s in the living room of Chris’s house.
The view switches back to Jade. “Emma, tell. Us. Everything. What made you want to do some maintenance? Do you have a date?”
“No, but I will. Someday. And I want to be prepared.”
“Is there something in particular you want to do with it?” Tessa asks.
“What do men like?”
“Oh my god, there’s such a variety,” Jade says. She blows out a breath.
“Well, in the past twenty-three years, it’s only been Bruce, my gyno, and Santo.”
“Did Santo say anything to you about it?”
“No.”
“Were you worried about it?” Sara chimes in.
“Yes.”
“Why?” That’s Jade again.
“I guess…I was maybe worried about stray hairs? And I wanted him to like it. And I was worried it was too much…down there.”
“Look,” Jade says. “My experience is that if a man is going to complain about the hair on your pussy, he’s going to find other things to complain about, too, things that aren’t really any of his business. And those men are never the ones who maintain themselves, either. So, if he does say something negative about it: red flag.”
“The point is to do what makes you comfortable,” Tessa says.
“Yeah,” I say, frustration edging my voice. “But I don’t know what would make me comfortable. And what if I hate it?”
“It’ll grow out,” Jade says, reasonably. “You don’t know how your skin will respond to a wax or a full shave, so I think your best bet, if you want to do anything at all, is to use an electric razor and trim the hair.”
“It won’t be prickly?”
“It might be at first,” she muses. “But it depends how much hair you have. Also, hair can go a ways back, so keep an eye on that.”
“What, like…all the way?”
Jade shrugs. “My waxer does all of that.”
Someone going down on me wouldn’t be able to see that…would they? It’s not like I would ask for anything back there.
“I don’t,” Tessa says. “And Luc doesn’t mind.”
The three of us sigh. Luc doesn’t mind anything about Tessa. I’m so glad she is with someone who appreciates her curves. It gives me hope that someone out there—aside from Bruce—will want to be with me despite my height and shape.
Well, I guess Santo doesn’t mind it. He did take me home with him.
By the time my friends and I hang up, I’ve got a solid plan to trim everything tonight. I already have an electric waterproof razor, so I take it in the shower with me, turning the water as hot as it will go.
After washing my hair, the shower stall is full of steam, and I’m pleasantly relaxed from the heat. I squirt shaving cream onto my palm and lather up. The hair between my legs is coarse, so I run the electric razor against my skin in small strokes, rinsing frequently. It’s awkward, bending over to see myself, pulling my skin this way and that to do a thorough job.
One time, Jade took the four of us to an art museum that had an erotic art exhibit. At the entrance, taking up an entire wall, were plaster casts of vulvas. There must have been at least a hundred, and I remember being shocked at the range and diversity. I couldn’t help but think that some were more pretty than others, even though I know that society has trained me to look at women’s bodies from a male gaze.
With Bruce, we never talked about my body like that. I have no idea if he thought mine was pretty.
Do I? Does Santo?
The back is even more awkward, more feeling by hand than being able to see anything. I think I do a good job, though.
Satisfied, I turn the razor off and put it on the hanging rack. I pick the shower head out of the holder and point the stream between my legs, rubbing with my hands to make sure I get any loose hairs and shaving cream off.
I stroke my hand over my mound, from top to bottom. It’s not smooth like when I shave my legs and the skin is soft and hairless, but I think I like it.
I also like the way the warm water feels, and my stroking hands turn more purposeful.
Leaning against the wall, I let my fingers slip between my folds. I’ve never been one of those women who was into shower heads—there isn’t enough friction and pressure for me—but the combination of my hand and the warm water turns me on.
I pull up the memory of Santo on his knees in front of me from just a few nights ago.
I was so surprised, but the hot, wet kisses he left on my inner thigh made my stomach flip in a delicious way. Even thinking about it makes my stomach flip now. I run a finger up my inner lips and circle my clit, repeating the movement again and again. With my fingers wet, it almost feels like a tongue.
Soon I need more, so I take two fingers and press harder every time I circle my clit. My thighs tense, and my core tugs, urging me to press harder, circle faster, focus on that spot that needs attention, and I’m getting close…I let out a small moan.
On the other side of the wall, Oliver barks.
It startles me so badly that I drop the shower head, which goes crazy in the bottom of the shower stall. I catch it and put it up to the sounds of Eva shouting at her dog. “Oliver! Taci!”
Great, the neighbor I just met has now heard me masturbating. I turn off the shower.
Can this week get any worse?