Page 279 of Naughty Nelle

Offer expires Sept. 30th

September 30th? That’s today! My chest tightens. What am I going to do? The ball is just hours away. I’ve got to get back to the castle with Marcella’s gown. And get her ready.

I read on about the spa’s services…a relaxing aromatherapy massage with magic hot crystals…a soothing mineral bath in their mermaid lagoon…a deep cleansing facial. And that’s just for starters.

God, this sounds divine. And it’s all mine—FREE! Temptation gnaws away at me. Maybe, I can squeeze in a visit—it’s exactly what I need to clear my head and figure out my complicated mess of a life. A little voice in my head says, “Go for it!” “GO FOR IT!” it says again, this time louder. Yes! Hooray for me! My decision is made.

The Enchanted Spa is all that I remember it to be and more. A luxurious, tranquil wonderland with creamy marble walls and floors, gurgling fountains, and lush lounging areas. Scented candles are everywhere.

Several gorgeous princesses, holding muslin bags like mine, are reading beauty magazines on a plush velvet divan. One of them looks up at me and makes a horrified face. Do I look that bad?

I recognize the front desk receptionist—that peachy-skinned nymph from my previous brief visit. Her head is buried in her reservation book. “What time is your appointment?” she asks me, without lifting her head.

“I don’t have one.”

“Sorry. We’re all booked up today because of the ball.”

I slap the flyer down in front of her. She takes one look at me and shakes her head. “I’ll squeeze you in.”

I must look that bad. My fairest days are definitely over.

“Beauty is our duty,” says Miss Peaches and Cream. She tosses me a white fluffy robe and whisks me off to my first treatment…a deep cleansing facial.

Inside a small, sterile room, an attractive woman, who calls herself Fiora, plunks me down on a pink leather reclining chair. She applies a hot towel to my face. It feels good.

“Beauty is pain,” she says. Removing the towel, she squeezes my pores.

OWW! She wasn’t kidding.

“Your complexion is beautiful,” she says, still poking my face. “I know so many princesses who would kill to have skin like yours.”

The irony of her words tenses up every muscle in my body. I think of Snow White again. Of how I so envied her fair skin. Her incomparable beauty. I wanted her dead, out of my way. My body quakes. How can I ever face Gallant again?

I can’t get Snow White out of my head. That is, until Fiora transforms into an ogress right before my eyes. I almost fall off the chair from shock.

“Don’t freak. It happens every day at this time,” she says. “My husband loves me this way. He’s an ogre too.”

I don’t want to know more. Then I make a connection. That dumb-ass dungeon guard—more bad memories!—was an ogre. He told me his wife worked at a spa and got all the latest beauty magazines free. It had to be Fiora! This is too freaky. Why is this all happening?

Fiora slaps my face. “Very good for circulation.” Then she tells me my facial is over.

I can barely stand up. My face stings. And my body is a contorted bundle of nerves. Maybe coming here was a bad idea.

“You desperately need a massage,” says Fiora.

No kidding.

She escorts me to another similar room where Urma, a brawny woman with inky-blue spiked hair and a strand of coral beads around her neck, awaits me. She has eight strapping arms like an octopus. I guess the more the better for a killer massage.

She orders me to remove my robe and lie face down on a body-length, padded table. I take off everything except Shrink’s mirrored locket and Rump’s name bracelet. These gifts never leave me. Ever.

“Are you going to zee ball tonight?” Her heavily accented voice is deep and raspy.

“Yes,” I lie. I’m in no mood for conversation.

“It eez fundraiser for Faraway,” she says. “Very worthwhile cause. I was sea witch before rehab there.”

Octo-mama’s a Faraway grad? This is beyond weird.

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