I mean, come on, there’s just something a bit off to me about willingly waving your ass in the air in front of some stranger’s face and holding your own butt cheeks open for the said stranger to layer your skin with hot wax to forcefully yank out your hair. It was the sort of situation that always ended up in badly retold horror stories. I tried not to think much about the process. Seriously, we all knew my imagination tended to run away with me, and I’d rather not die of an anxiety attack naked with my butt waving in the air. It was bad enough I was beginning to feel a little nervous, complete with the trembling of the limbs and fluttering of the belly.
“Ms. Zolendz? Ms. Stone? Right this way please,” a soft voice cooed from one of the back rooms. “Your waxing rooms are ready for you.” I gulped back the rest of my glass of wine and grabbed another from one of the trays. If the bottle were around, I would have swiped the whole thing. Maybe I did have a few kleptomaniac tendencies.
How hard could this be? I’ve had two C-sections, an ablation, a hysterectomy, and a root canal. This should be cake. At least that was what my thoughts were at the bottom of the second glass of wine.
What looked like two Victoria’s Secret models came out from the back and escorted Angelisa and me into our separate waxing closets. My supermodel looked barely twenty years old with soft, creamy, stupid, non-wrinkled skin and was dressed in a silky white toga-like thing. My steps faltered; the scenario just had wrong written all over it. How the Hell did someone my age continuously get into these kinds of positions? Positions! Ha.
“Hi, my name is Lindsey,” the girl said, handing me yet another glass of white wine with a dainty little hand.
A small helpless groan escaped past my lips.
“Is this your first time?” she inquired, sweetly.
“Uh huh,” I said, cringing and sipping at the wine. Okay, I gulped. Sue me, I was about to get my hoo-ha ripped to shreds; I was a wee bit nervous.
Lindsey then proceeded to explain the horror of the waxing process to me. Before she could even finish saying how she’d remove the most sensitive areas first there was a loud buzzing in my ears, and my heart was palpitating.
Black dots formed in my vision, and the room spun around me. I was immediately disrobed and placed in the most inappropriate position, which caused me to bust out in the most obnoxious round of giggles I’d ever partaken in.
Next door, I could just about hear Angelisa’s whispers, “What the Hell are you doing in there? Aren’t you getting waxed? You should not be giggling in there!” Her words were followed by a “hush hush” from her waxer.
“Okay,” Lindsey spoke softly. “I’m going to begin with your most sensitive area first. Here we go.” Then, there was a pause.
A long pause.
Lindsey did nothing. I waited. Still nothing.
Then—
“SONOFAMOTHERHUMPINGCOCKSUCKINGMONKEY’SBITCHASSUNCLE!” The words tore out of my vocal chords uncontrollably. I was blinded by a white-hot thunderbolt of sheer fiery pain. Lucifer-licking Lindsey tsked and spread on some more hot wax. There was no time to brace myself, no way of escaping the small wax chamber of doom without getting tangled in the long strips of hot wax that seemed to be strangely laying on every surface in the little wax chamber in wait to bite into my poor skin.
“BITCH!” I screamed. Her eyes narrowed in my direction. Her face remained expressionless with just a small tug of curled up lip. More wax was poured. Breathe. I had to keep breathing. There were just so many spots swimming in front of my eyes. I had to fight to remain conscious or this evil waxing witch might tear out every single strand of loose hair she found across my body.
Wax. Rip.
“YOULIKETHIS!YOUSTUPIDTORTUROUSWHORE!” The evil witch paused for a brief second, then triumphantly held a wax covered strip stuck with my hair right in front of my face, taunting me.
From next door, Angelisa’s screams where louder, albeit a bit more incomprehensible than mine. “GRRRASSSHITFUCKACAT!”
Lucifer-licking Lindsey continued her torture. Wax. Rip. “STUPIDCUNTRIPPINGBITCH!” I screamed. I wanted to pour hot wax in her wide open eyes!
“FUCKINGUGLYSKINNYVAGINATEARINGBITCH!” Angelisa shrieked next door.
Wax. Rip. “HOLYMOTHEROFSHITBALLSFUCKINGBITCH!” I screeched, clenching my teeth. “I’ll pour this shit on your tongue and rip it right out,” I threatened as Lucifer-licking Lindsey just hummed as she worked.
“COCKSUCKERBITCHFACESTUPIDHEAD!” Angelisa roared.
It went on like that for what felt like hours. I desperately tried to focus all my thoughts on breathing and not kicking Lucifer-licking Lindsey in the neck and stuffing hot wax down her throat.
When it was done, I had never felt more violated in my life. I was freaking bald. Like a newborn baby bald. How was this supposed to be sexy?
I could barely walk out of the spa. “It feels like someone took a bat to my vagina.”
“It goes away in a few minutes,” Ang said as she swiped two more glasses of wine from the waiting area. I wanted to grab the glasses of wine from her and pour them down my underwear to ease the burning, singeing feeling that was radiating from my freshly fried hoo-ha.
“The crappy part is now I feel like a prepubescent girl,” I said, downing the glass of whine she handed to me in one enormous gulp.
My knees began to tingle. I was still such a lightweight.
We walked out of the spa as another group of middle-aged women were walking in all excited, giggling about getting waxed down there. Meanwhile, my eyes were still tearing, and I was half drunk and walking like a cowboy. I wanted to warn them. I wanted to protest for innocent vaginas everywhere.
Then Skye Jordan walked in and Angelisa and I forgot all about our burning, raw vags and went into full fangirl mode, complete with high-pitched squeals and Angelisa asking if she could pet her hair. Skye looked at Ang and shook her head vehemently. As if anyone would ever allow some stranger to pet her?
Trying to be cool and compose myself, I warned her about getting a Brazilian wax. Skye smiled shyly, and said, “I had one last week, so I wouldn’t be walking funny at the signing tomorrow.”
“The signing tomorrow?” Angelisa questioned.
“Yes, aren’t you both authors?” Skye asked, looking back and forth between us.
Ang and I nodded, speechlessly.
“I thought so. You’re both so funny. You should write a book together,” she complimented and walked through the spa door.
“Holy shit,” I marveled. “Skye Jordan—THE Skye Jordan knows us.”
“Holy shit is right! Skye Jordan! Do you think the Renegades are real, because if so, I’d love to meet the guy she based Wes off of?” Angelisa asked, staring at the door like she could will Skye to come back through it.
“Sometimes, I wonder about you,” I said, shaking my head. “You morph between being so normal and then immediately turn into some bumbling idiot.”
“Oh I do, do I?” Ang said, angrily. “Man, you’ve been such a treat these past few days.
I didn’t want to get into it with her, but I did want her to know that I still had some serious issues and misgivings about her recent choices. She and I needed to clear the air and stop ignoring the giant white elephant in the room. But then, my phone started buzzing in my bag, and we all know how short my attention span is when I hear things that make cool noises.
And vibrate.
“Bare Bottom MacLadyParts Incorporated. Baldilocks speaking,” I answered the phone.
“Do I even want to know why you’re answering your phone like that?” Jake’s deep voice barked into the phone.
“No. No, you definitely do not want to know anything about any of that,” I sighed, even though he was the one to put the idea into my head when he was explaining to me some of the things that guys liked sexually. There just wasn’t any way I could possibly tell him that I actually took his advice.
No.
Nope.
My plan was that if I ever did meet him I wou
ld just get even by super gluing his balls to a chair or something. One of those folding chairs.
“What’s going on?” I whispered into the phone. Angelisa rolled her eyes at me. I should just tell her I was trying to suck out all the advice I could from her brother, but then she’d be all pissy that I didn’t just go to her. She thinks she knows everything.
“We need your help,” he said, his voice urgent.
“Say whaaa?” I asked. Crap. How many glasses of wine did I have?
“Matt wants to win Angelisa back.”
What the hell?
Is this high school? I heard it never ends.
“What does that even mean?” I asked, laughing.
“We’re here—in Vegas. Look, just tell her you need to go to the revolving, rooftop restaurant on the top of the Stratosphere,” he made a muffled sound on the end of the phone, and then his voice cleared again, “You need to be there in an hour. You go down to the bar in the lobby after you drop her off at the restaurant. I’ll meet you there.”
“I’ll get the crazy glue—and folding chair.”
“What?” he asked.
“Uhhh, nothing. Forget it. You’ll see. Oh, one day. You will see.”
The jerk hung up on me. I needed a hot glue gun for my revenge.
I glanced over at Ang whose lips were squished into a tight frowny line. She knew I was hiding stuff from her, and she was upset.
“Ummm… so we have some meeting in an hour at the Stratosphere?” I said.
It came out sounding more like a question than something she should do. I couldn’t help it; I was blindsided. I couldn’t think up something fast enough. Oh wait, there was a lie that she’d kill me for, but hey, I was desperate. “I think someone wants to meet and talk about our book. They heard a rumor and they want to…”
“Oh my GOD!” she screamed, clapping her hands and busting out into some weird Ohio State cheer thingy-dance… thing. “Oh. My. God.” She chanted it over and over again and was doing weird waves with her arms. I had to physically stop her from continuing.
“Come on, let’s hit the rest rooms and freshen up a bit. I have a feeling this meeting is going to change lives… I hope for the better.” I said, really hoping that I didn’t completely screw things up for Matt and her.
From what I had witnessed over the last few months traveling with Angelisa, it was obvious that she had a really great marriage. She had someone she could trust and depend on, but she just needed to be more open and honest with him about what she was going through—and what she wanted in life. Even though I was screwed over by Scott, I wanted to believe that a relationship could make it even if it was weathered by a few storms. I think if both parties wanted to make it work, they could.
After making sure her makeup and outfit was perfect, I walked her to the restaurant and stood back by the door. I couldn’t go any further, because there were too many tears in my eyes. I wanted this to work for her so badly. I wanted her to have that happily ever after we love to slap at the end of books that made readers breathless.
I wanted that—for her.
I needed that—for her.
We all needed that.
When I saw that she realized what was going on, she took a fast glance at me and narrowed her eyes. I blew a kiss to her and hoped she knew how much I loved and respected her as a friend and how much I just wanted her to find her happiness again. Whatever she decided.
I walked down through the extravagant lobby and made my way toward the front bar. I needed more alcohol like I needed a hole in my head, but hey, what else was there to do in Vegas but drink and gamble? I was holding off all the gambling until later, just so I could max out Scott’s card for a little extra turn of the knife.
I’m such a bitch.
Scanning the area as I stepped inside, I froze when my eyes meet Jake Ryan’s. Jake Ryan in the flesh. He was looking straight at me, casually leaning up against the bar, smiling.
He must have recognized me, because he held up his beer with one hand and saluted me with his other.
A strange awkward feeling curled through my belly.
Ewww.
God.
Why did Jake Ryan have to be good looking? Son-of-a-bitch.
I was staring at him. Gawking. Kill me now.
My face turned hot, cheeks burning and scorching with embarrassment. Why? Because when I looked at him, the first thought that popped into my empty head was the realization that I hadn’t had sex in over six months. Six months. God, that was like 180 days—at least. Jesus. That was vaginal degradation and desperation. Couldn’t even remember the last time I had an orgasm. I squeezed my eyes closed. Jake was so off limits—friends don’t do friends’ brothers. It’s like the universal girl code or at least it was in, say, 1991, when I last dated.
Throughout my dumb inner monologue, Jake just held my gaze. He was tall and lean with dark, almost pure black hair and striking blue eyes. He better have a mouth full of messed up teeth.
Summer teeth. Some are here—some are there! Summer teeth. Please have “summer teeth.”
I didn’t want to look at my best friend’s brother and like what I saw. My hands clenched against my sides as I walked up to the stool next to him and sat down.
“So, I finally get to meet my little sexual apprentice,” he laughed, sliding himself over onto the bar stool next to mine.
I flinched back. “You make it so sound deviant. I’ve only asked you for a few pointers, Mister. And you know what? Some of your advice sucks ass.”
Jake smiled. And his stupid teeth were perfect and white. Why couldn’t he have “summer teeth?” Why couldn’t I just catch a break, here?
Chuckling, he asked, “Sucks ass? Please. Do tell me what advice I’ve given you that sucks ass.”
“For one, Brazilian waxing. That was the most horrible thing that I ever—”
“You… got a Brazilian wax?” I swore his pupils dilated. I’d never actually seen that happen before.
I narrowed my eyes at him and scrunched up my face. “Definitely not talking about this with you. Anyway… so, I just escorted Angelisa to the restaurant. Let’s have a drink and hope I didn’t mess up a good marriage.”
Jake shifted on his stool, and the heat of his body rolled over me. Oh crap, crap crap. Think of dead bodies. Grandmas and mothballs and—
“So if they’re in the restaurant that means there’s an enormous luxury suite upstairs. Empty.” The words were spoken slow and sensual, whispered and intentional. I froze as a spark of heat unfurled and crept across my chest. Jake lifted a hand and ran his thumb over my cheek. My heart jolted, and I sucked in a gasp as his finger glided over my skin and down my neck.
My thoughts spun in circles. I needed to think of the most disgusting things possible and walk away.
Dead puppies.
My eighth grade teacher with that nasty mole on the edge of his nose.
The tips of Jake’s finger followed the low scoop line of my shirt, slowly tracing the skin just underneath. The touch was soft and made me ache with need and want and so many other things that made me wiggle on my stool. Jake’s gaze darkened as his fingers reached the lowest dip in the material, and he ran the back of one of his fingers over the soft curve of my breasts.
My heart slammed against his touch; my flesh tingled wherever his finger landed. The skin pricked into goose bumps that spread across my chest. My entire body reacted to his touch. My insides ached. My breasts felt heavy, heady, and my hands grasped onto the edge of the bar, fingernails digging into the wood. The Brazilian wax I’d just had added to the sensations. My God, I felt everything down there as if he were already touching me.
“Come on, gorgeous,” Jake whispered, his body shifting closer. His lips were against my ear; the heat of his breath prickled at the flesh of my neck making me shiver. “Take me upstairs. Let me really teach you all those things you’ve been asking about.”
I turned my face only to find his lips no more than an inch away from mine. They
were perfect.
He launched off the stool and pulled me to my feet, slipping his arms around my shoulders and tugging me to the exit. He seemed comfortable in the situation. My God, did he do this often? My belly flipped and tugged as we reached the elevator. Jake leaned his body against mine as he pushed the up button. His gaze darted back and forth between my eyes and lips. I felt so out of sorts, out of control, and the Brazilian wax was making everything tingle. Son-of-a-gun, he was so right about the Brazilian wax. So very right. I felt like pure sex. If sex were a person who hadn’t had an orgasm in a million years and was just about to dry hump an almost stranger up against a wall, then that is what I felt like.
Once inside the elevator, Jake’s hands squeezed at my waist. He wanted me. Lowering his head, his lips kissed and nipped at the base of my neck and along my shoulder. I hadn’t done anything like this in… in… God, too damn long.
Fiery flicks of sensation soared across my skin, twisting and churning and aching between my thighs. My head thudded back against the wall of the elevator, and his mouth was instantly on mine. I leaned into him. My body relaxing into his as my breasts pressed against the warmth of his chest, and his hands cupped the curve of my neck and the swell of my hips. His mouth tasted like liquor and mint and wild hunger. A hoarse needy sound vibrated in the back of his throat as his tongue slid against mine, and his hands clutched tighter at my skin. I never wanted the elevator to stop. Just keep floating up, break through the roof, fly me up to the sky. His lips were like fire; his hands an inferno, and I wanted to be burned to nothing but ash.
The elevator slowed to a stop on the top floor. As the doors slid open, Jake stepped out and fisted my shirt in his hands to tug me out and draw me up against him. His lips brushed against mine and growled against them, “Card key. Now.”
#TripleX Page 22
