Page 37 of Beautiful Liar

10

FIRST TAKE

Lucky

Iarrive at the penthouse at the arranged time of six thirty. The uniformed doorman holds the door open without questioning my status, and calls the elevator for me. I make eye contact long enough to murmur thanks and breathe a sigh of relief when the doors shut. The relief lasts as long as it takes for me to tug the cap off my head and stuff it into my bag. I’m beset by a whole new set of nerves when I exit the elevator to find Fionnella waiting for me, minus her clipboard. For the first time, she’s less than total sparkle.

“There you are. We need to get straight to it. The boss wants the first shots done tonight.”

“Shots?”

She nods and falls into step with me when I reach her. “Yes. Todd can’t start until we have you properly prepped.”

I’m ushered down the hall to the great room and straight across to the grooming area. She introduces me to Angela, the technician who was absent on Monday and yesterday, when I met with the fitness trainer. The petite woman with a mop of dark brown hair beckons me into her section and pulls the curtain closed.

“I’ll leave you to it. We need to finalize your lingerie choices.” Fionnella stops when her gaze lands on my extra piece of luggage. She glances back up but doesn’t voice the question lingering in her eyes. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll get you something for when you’re done waxing. You can eat while your hair is being done.”

Satisfied with her schedule, she nods and exits.

I drop my stuff in one corner and turn around to find Angela staring at me. I’m not sure whether she’s assessing me for work purposes or her personal curiosity is getting the better of her.

“Your face, honey,” she eventually says. “Are you temporarily blotchy or am I dealing with something else?”

Heat surges into my face. I’d forgotten about my epic crying jag among the detritus of everything else I’m dealing with. I swipe self-consciously at my cheeks. “It’s temporary.”

“Great. That helps a lot. Okay, get your clothes off, slip into the white gown and hop on the bed. Have you had a Brazilian before?”

I shake my head as I toe off my boots.

“What about a bleach?”

“No.”

“Depending on your coloring down there, we may not need the bleach, but prepare yourself for the possibility.”

She heads to the prepping table and turns on a machine that looks like a fondue set without the tower. I get rid of my clothes, tug the gown over my head and stretch out on the massage table. She returns with a small bowl, which she sets down at the foot of the bed. In the grand scheme of the huge obstacles I face, I’m mildly shocked to find myself nervous at the thought of having a patch of hair ripped off my pussy. But my nerves clearly filter through because she lays a hand on my knee.

“Relax, honey. The first time is a bitch, I won’t lie, but tensing up will make it worse. I’ll go as fast as I can.”

Laughter spills out before I can hold it in. Even to my ears, I sound a touch off my rocker. “I’m sorry. This is all a little…surreal.”

She nods as if she totally understands. Maybe she does. I wonder how often she does this for…the boss.

Q.

Did I really name him that? And what exactly did he mean by bravo?

My spinning thoughts refocus on the room and what’s being done to my private parts. I take a slow, deep breath and force my limbs to slacken.

Twenty minutes later, I’m a full member of the Brazilian club, shock and pain-induced tears included.

Luckily, I pass the no-need-for-a-bleached-butthole test, much to my semi-hysterical relief. When Angela instructs me to, I get off the bed and hobble gingerly to the hair wash section of her domain.

The touch of firm fingers massaging heavenly smelling shampoo into my hair takes my mind off the stinging in my crotch. And thanks to the miraculous hypoallergenic mist she sprayed down there, by the time I’m seated in front of the mirror with my dinner of fettuccini, garlic bread and slice of cheesecake in my lap, the pain is almost gone.

---