Chapter 15 Lottie #2
A warm rush of herb-scented steam rises through the heart-shaped opening directly between my knees, answering my question before I can finish asking it.
“This is a va-jay-jay FACIAL!” Carlotta shrieks with delight.
“It’s a traditional treatment dating back centuries,” Seraphina explains smoothly, as if this is a perfectly normal spa conversation. “The steam opens your sacred portal to receive the healing energy it craves.”
“My sacred portal wasn’t expecting visitors today,” I hiss to Keelie, who looks equally alarmed and possibly traumatized. “At least not this early in the day, and definitely not without an appointment.”
“I’ve paid good money to keep things closed down there since I had little Bear,” she whispers back.
Meg, meanwhile, adjusts her position like she’s finding the optimal angle for steam coverage. “This is actually kind of nice,” she muses. “Like a jacuzzi, but more targeted and with better intentions.”
“Is this sanitary?” Lily asks, eyeing the rising steam with the suspicion of a woman who alphabetizes her cleaning products and color-codes her medicine cabinet.
“More sanitary than that firefighter you were assaulting last night,” Carlotta points out helpfully.
“I was not assaulting—” Lily begins, then reconsiders. “Okay, maybe a little. But that was consensual assaulting.”
Poor Lainey has gone into full meditation mode with her eyes closed and deep breathing. “I’m embracing the experience,” she announces serenely. “My lady parts are being honored by ancient wisdom and expensive herbs.”
“My lady parts are confused and would like to speak to management,” I counter because someone needs to voice the obvious concerns here.
Suze, ever practical, looks as if she’s resigned herself to the situation. “Well, it can’t be worse than what Noah’s father did to it,” she mutters darkly.
“Suze!” I gasp, genuinely scandalized. And not only that, but he’s continuing his tirade on my mother.
“What?” she balks my way. “You’ve got three kids. We all know what happened. It’s basic biology, not state secrets.”
“Can we please not discuss my reproductive history while my lady bits are in a steam bath?” I plead, because there has to be some limit to the humiliation.
Carlotta, naturally, is having the time of her life. She’s reclined on her box like it’s a throne, her towel abandoned while she regales us with stories of previous intimate steam experiences that make this one seem positively clinical by comparison and definitely more legal.
“—and that’s when the wizard told me to stick to the yellow brick road, and that my ex-husband’s wallet wasn’t the road to riches.” She concludes a story I’ve been desperately trying to tune out for the sake of my mental health.
“So how long does this fun last?” I ask Seraphina, who’s busying herself adjusting the temperature of the steam pots like she’s fine-tuning a scientific experiment.
“Twenty minutes for optimal benefit,” she replies from her strategic post by the exit. “Then we’ll move to the crystal sound bath.”
“As long as the crystals stay external,” Suze mutters, voicing what we’re all thinking.
The minutes pass in a haze of steam and increasingly inappropriate conversation.
Carlotta shares techniques for—well, never mind, because I’m fairly certain it violates several state laws.
Meg discusses which wrestling holds can double as bedroom moves.
Lily reveals surprisingly detailed knowledge about erogenous zones that has us all reconsidering her prim image. Not that I ever believed in it.
Just as I’m beginning to adjust to the sensation of having my nethers hot-boxed, Ray-Ray materializes in the center of our circle, his ghostly form flickering with evident confusion and what might be trauma.
“Sweet heavens above!” he exclaims, taking in the scene of a gaggle of naked women perched on steaming boxes. “What in the name of blue suede shoes is happening here?”
I desperately try to communicate with my eyes that now is NOT the time for a ghostly visitor, especially one dressed like Elvis and prone to break out in song regarding any and every situation at hand. I do not need that commentary.
“Ladies,” Ray-Ray announces, completely oblivious to my silent pleas, “I hate to interrupt whatever ritual this is, but there’s news about that slick event fella!”
“Are you okay, Lottie?” Lainey asks, noticing my sudden wide-eyed panic. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The irony is not lost on me, and under different circumstances, I might appreciate the humor.
“I’m fine!” I squeak. “Just embracing the experience and possibly having a spiritual awakening.”
Ray-Ray circulates around our circle, stopping in front of me. “Sugar cube, this is important! That Chuck fella—he’s got—”
“Yes, surrender to the sacred steam,” Seraphina cuts him off while adding more herbs to my pot than should ever be legal. “Let it cleanse your spiritual pathways.”
I force a tight smile and try to ignore Ray-Ray, who looks increasingly uncomfortable with his accidental invasion of our intimate steam session.
“Hon, this is more than I bargained for,” Ray-Ray mutters, backing away. “I’ll catch you later, sugar cube. Some things even the King shouldn’t witness.” With that, he vanishes in a shower of blue and pink stars, taking his urgent message with him.
“Did anyone else feel a sudden chill?” Lily asks, glancing around.
“Impossible,” Meg replies. “My undercarriage is currently experiencing the climate of tropical rainforest during monsoon season.”
Carlotta has entered a state of blissful meditation that would be impressive if she weren’t simultaneously providing a running commentary on the sensation.
“It’s like my hoo-ha is having a spa day of its own,” she announces to the room at large. “Like she’s at a little steamy nightclub with a velvet rope and VIP service.”
“Please stop personifying your nether regions,” Suze groans. “It doesn’t have its own social calendar.”
“Speak for yourself,” Carlotta sniffs. “Mine has more bookings than the Bellagio fountain show.”
Disturbing, but true as gospel.
A spa attendant enters with a tray of cucumber water, looking determinedly professional despite the scene before her—a handful of naked women sitting on steaming boxes while discussing their personified you-know-whats.
“How are we feeling, ladies?” she asks, distributing glasses with the calm of someone who does this for a living.
“My sacred portal feels very acknowledged,” Lainey says dreamily.
“My sacred portal is wondering about the liability waiver I should have signed,” I counter.
“Mine wants to know if this counts as foreplay,” Carlotta adds.
“You would,” I mutter.
The attendant’s smile doesn’t falter, though her eye twitches slightly. “Ten more minutes for optimal benefits,” she says, backing toward the door as if afraid sudden movements might provoke us.
Keelie snorts at the thought. “Is anyone else worried about what this steam is doing to our pH balance?” she asks, shifting uncomfortably on her box. “Because I’m pretty sure my lady bits now glow in the dark.”
“Don’t worry,” Carlotta assures her. “After this, they give you a probiotic yogurt dipping for balance.”
“They absolutely do not.” Lily gasps, horrified.
“How would you know?” Carlotta challenges. “Have you had your hoo-ha steamed and dipped before?”
“No, but I understand basic hygiene and food safety!”
Seraphina clears her throat. “Ladies, please. The sacred feminine steam requires inner silence for optimal benefit.”
“My inner voice is loudly questioning my decision to blindly follow Carlotta anywhere,” I mutter.
“Mine is composing its last will and testament,” Suze adds.
Meg, always the practical one, appears to have fully embraced the experience. “You know, this actually has potential for pre-match preparation. Imagine Mad Madge the Badge—now with steam-powered fury.”
“I’m adding this to my cleansing regimen,” Lainey announces. “Forest is going to be so jealous.”
“Does Forest know what you were doing with that construction worker’s hammer last night?” Lily asks innocently.
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” Lainey shoots back just before breaking into giggles. “But oh my goodness, did you see the SIZE of that hammer?”
“Ladies!” Seraphina’s composure finally cracks. “Please! This is a sacred ritual!”
“Sorry,” I apologize, even though I’m not remotely sorry. “We’ll be good.”
We manage to maintain approximately thirty seconds of silence before Carlotta breaks.
“So, Suze,” she whispers as loud as she can, “on a scale of one to ten, how does this compare to Wiley’s performance?”
“Carlotta!” I hiss, mortified.
“What? It’s a legitimate question! Steam versus Fox—which one wins?”
Suze, to my utter horror, appears to be genuinely considering the question. “Well,” she says thoughtfully, “the steam doesn’t disappear for eight years faking its own death, so it automatically scores higher.”
The room erupts in laughter so loud that two more spa attendants rush in, clearly expecting some kind of steamy emergency.
“Everything is fine,” Seraphina assures them, though her tight smile suggests she’s considering adjusting the gratuity charge. “The ladies are just connecting deeply with the experience.” She frowns my way as if I was the ringleader.
“Actually, I am connecting with parts of myself I haven’t spoken to since before the twins,” I agree, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes.
“I’m naming mine Steamy Steamerson,” Carlotta announces. “She deserves an identity after all this attention.”
“Please don’t name your—” I begin, then give up. “You know what? Fine. Name away.”
“Mine shall henceforth be known as The Honorable Judge Hoo-Ha,” Keelie declares, getting into the spirit.
I shoot her a look because she totally stole my name and she knows it.
“Mad Madge Junior,” Meg contributes.
“Lily of the Valley.” Lily smirks.
“Serenity Now,” Lainey adds with a giggle.
“Absolutely not.” Suze shakes her head firmly. “I draw the line at nether region naming ceremonies.”
“Your loss.” Carlotta shrugs. “Naming builds a bond. Steamy and I are now besties.”
As the timer finally signals the end of our steam session, Seraphina approaches with visible relief. “Ladies, your Celestial Renewal Journey will now continue with our crystal sound bath.”
We wrap ourselves back in our robes, following Seraphina to the next treatment room. As we file out, I can’t help but think that amid all the laughter and personification, I’ve missed something important—something Ray-Ray was trying to tell me about Chuck.
But right now, I’m being led to a room filled with crystal singing bowls, and Carlotta is already asking if the crystals respond to specific requests like song dedications for Steamy Steamerson.
Whatever revelations await, they’ll have to wait indeed.
And in this moment, I realize this just might be the real Vegas experience—bizarre luxury, inappropriate oversharing, and the nagging feeling that somewhere, somehow, someone is getting away with murder.
At least we can honestly say we’ve experienced all Vegas has to offer—and then some.