Page 45 of From Wink to Kink

And I'm bringing my own ice pack. Just in case.

21

RUBY

As Chuckand I leave the massage room, I'm feeling more relaxed than I have since… forever. Despite the initial awkwardness, the massage was incredible. My muscles feel like jelly, and even the lingering... sensitivity from my earlier waxing adventure has faded considerably. Now, there’s just a dull throb down there. Annoying, but nothing that’s going to kill me.

"Thank you," I blurt. "For, you know, setting this up. Very generous of you. But don’t expect me to reciprocate. I don’t have your kind of money."

He throws me a cocky smile, the one that used to irritate me, but now does funny things to my insides. "Anytime, Brooks. Happy to help you loosen up a bit."

Impulsively, I step forward and hug him. For a moment, he seems startled, but then his arms wrap around me, strong and warm. I pull back, intending to give him a friendly peck on the cheek.

But he turns his head at the last second, and suddenly, we're kissing. For real.

It's brief, just a brush of warm, wet lips really, but it sends a jolt through me like I've touched a live wire. We spring apart, both wide-eyed and flustered.

"I... uh..." I stammer, my face burning. "That was..."

"Yeah," Chuck says, looking equally stunned. "It was..."

We're saved from further awkwardness by a chipper staff member approaching us. "There you are! Your body painting seminar is about to start. Right this way!"

Body painting?

We're ushered into a room filled with easels, paints, and several other couples in various states of undress. A perky instructor greets us, handing us each a paintbrush.

"Welcome, lovebirds! Today, we'll be exploring the sensual art of body painting. Please, choose a canvas and let your passion guide your brush!" she sing-songs.

Chuck and I exchange a panicked look. "Uh, when they say 'canvas'..." he whispers.

"I think they meanus," I finish, feeling a mix of fear and bizarre excitement.

We awkwardly maneuver to an easel, and after a brief, whispered argument—No way am I taking my shirt off! andCome on, Brooks, live a little!"—I find myself sitting backwards on a chair, my shirt hiked up to expose my back. I unhook my bra and pulls the sides under my arms.

As Chuck starts painting, his brush cool and ticklish against my skin, we fall into conversation. It's easier somehow, not having to look at each other.

"So," I say, trying to ignore the pleasant shivers his strokes are sending down my spine, "what made you suggest the spa day?"

I feel him shrug behind me. "Thought it might be fun. Plus, I figured you could use some relaxation after everything that’s happened."

“Well, part of it was relaxing, but the other part—” I start to say, but stop myself.

He does not need to know about my adventures with pubic hair removal.

“The other part was not so good? You mean the waxing part?” he asks.

I whip my head around, no doubt making a mess of his masterpiece. "How did you?—”

He grins, annoyingly smug. "Come on, Brooks. 'Body scrub'? With an ice pack chaser? I'm not that stupid. Plus, on the way out, I snagged a brochure to see exactly what was included in our package. Imagine my surprise!"

I groan, letting my head fall forward. "Great. Just great."

"Hey," he says, his hand resting on my shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think it's kind of badass. I mean, what was it like having hair ripped off your privates? If I had that done to me, I have no doubt I’d cry like a baby, then double over and die. No, no wax for my balls."

“Okay, Chuck. I don’t need a visual."

He laughs, continuing to paint, the conversation flowing. We talk about being kids, our dreams, our fears. And, to my surprise, Chuck starts discussing books he's recently read.

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