A Virtual Affair

by Tracie Podger

  “Miss Adams?” I heard.

  A young girl stood just outside an open door along the corridor. I was too late. I rose and smiled at her.

  “My name’s Andi. Have you visited us before?” she asked.

  “I haven’t, I assumed you had only just opened.”

  “Oh, we’ve been here a couple of months now,” she said with a smile. “So what can I offer you today?”

  I swallowed and felt the colour rise to my cheeks. “I’d like a tidy up, erm, you know, down there.” I couldn’t stop the stage whisper or my fingers pointing to the top of my thighs. I cringed.

  “Have you had a bikini wax before?”

  “No, I’m a waxing virgin,” I said, adding an embarrassed chuckle.

  “If you’d like to remove your clothes, you can leave them there,” she pointed to a closet.

  “All of them?”

  “No, just your trousers and pants,” she said with a chuckle.

  Pants? It seemed a strange choice of word but I undressed and grabbed a towel to wrap around my waist.

  “Now, let’s get you settled, shall we? Did you decide on what you wanted?”

  I climbed onto the bed then had to raise my backside in the air so Andi could whip the towel away. She placed another over my waist keeping me partially covered.

  “I don’t know what you mean, I just want a tidy up,” I replied as I watched her snap on rubber gloves. The image of a farmer about to shove his arms up a cow’s vagina to aid birth sprang to mind.

  “Leave it to me.” She held her hands in the air, like a surgeon would before performing an operation.

  She scared me. She was constantly smiling and inspecting my ‘bits’. I wondered what on earth went through her mind every time she did a ‘tidy up’. She reminded me of the gynaecologist, who always smiled as if he had some secret joke running through his mind. Or both found my ninny amusing.

  I watched as she snapped off the top of an applicator and placed a hand on my thigh, gently moving it away. I wanted to fling my arm over my eyes at the thought of her staring. I felt a warm liquid make a trail around an area of my body that hadn’t been viewed by a stranger for many years. (I didn’t class the gynae as a stranger; we seemed to be on first name terms.)

  Andi placed some material over the warm wax and used her other hand to stretch the skin. She smiled over at me.

  “Do you live locally?” she asked.

  I opened my mouth to speak. Instead of words, the sound that left resembled a scream as she theatrically pulled the material from my skin.

  “What the…?”

  I tried to sit up, but the bitch was relentless. As quick as flash, she placed the strip elsewhere and ripped it off.

  “Any pets?” she asked.

  Pets? Was she fucking mad? I thought.

  I clenched my jaw, bit my lip and gripped the sides of the couch as my poor hairs, hairs that hadn’t seen the light of day, were mercilessly ripped from their safe place. Those hairs had done no harm to man or beast, I could hear their screams; they mirrored mine.

  “Any kids?”

  Shut the fuck up, bitch! I screamed, in my head, of course. My mouth was closed so tight the only sound I could make was grunts.

  I breathed in through my nose, trying to absorb the pain. Giving birth hadn’t hurt that much, or maybe I’d just forgotten.

  “All done, now that wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  Are you fucking insane?

  “No,” I whimpered.

  Andi smoothed on some very cold lotion. The heat of being partially flayed wasn’t doused by the icing of the Aloe Vera in the least. I tried not to pant as the sting intensified.

  “You can get up now. I’ll let you get dressed while I wash these bowls, then I’ll be in reception.”

  Get up? My body was in shock, it was trembling. Or at least my legs were. I swung them from the bed, not daring to look, and stumbled to the closet. I dressed as quickly as I could, wincing as my knickers elastic pinged against my poor, sore ninny. I cursed myself for wearing jeans. I should have worn a skirt. I could have walked home commando and let some cool air soothe me.

  With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked to reception.

  “Miss Adams, one Brazilian, that will be £25 please,” the receptionist said.

  My face coloured with the same heat that was coursing over my ninny. Why did she have to do that? I didn’t need the sniggering Mrs. Amazonian to know what I’d had done. And fuck her luck, having those legs waxed!

  I paid and left. I tried my hardest not to walk like John Wayne after a twenty-four hour horse ride through the Rockies, or wherever he rode.

  As soon as I arrived home, I made a call.

  “You nasty, horrible, bitch, cow sucking, nasty… Give me a minute, I’ll come up with more,” I said to Carla as she answered her phone.

  “Cow sucking?”

  “Yeah, cow sucking, shit face.”

  She laughed so hard down the phone I had no choice but to join in.

  “I take it you’re in pain?” she said.

  “Yes, I’m in fucking pain, pain like I’ve never felt before. You should have warned me.”

  “Take a hot bath,” she said.

  “A hot bath! I’m on fire here already!” I screeched, actually screeched.

  “Take a cold bath then.”

  “I’m that hot, I’d turn a cold bath into a Jacuzzi.”

  “Oh, you do exaggerate, Jayne.”

  “Okay, so not quite that hot but you know what I mean.”

  “It will settle down in a couple of hours. Put a packet of frozen peas on your fanny.”

  “I hate you,” I said with a laugh.

  “You’ll love me when he goes down on you and…”

  I cut the call before she could finish her sentence. I wasn’t a prude; I’d had sex. Okay, boring sex, and not for a long time, but I wasn’t about to be given a sex education lesson from my best friend.

  I walked upstairs and into my bedroom. Gently peeling off my jeans then pants, I stared. Oh my! It wasn’t often that I took a good look at my ninny. In fact, I couldn’t recall a time I had, but there it was, all pink and practically bare. A small line of black hair was all that was left. Andi should have put a V on the end to create an arrow! I looked ridiculous. What was I thinking?

  I rifled through my knickers drawer and found some old period pants, as Carla would call them, big knickers that would leave a little breathing space. I then slipped on my pyjama bottoms.

  “Are you okay?” I heard as I walked down the stairs.

  “I’m fine,” I said through partially gritted teeth.

  “You sure?” Kerry asked.

  “No, actually I feel like I’ve just been assaulted.”

  “Assaulted?”

  “I had a bikini wax. Why? I have no idea, well, Carla had the idea.”

  I watched her bite her lip to stifle the giggle. “I could have done that for you.”

  “Kerry, it was embarrassing enough with a stranger, let alone family.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They plastered me in hot wax and tortured me with material strips.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t sound good. Did they soften the hairs first?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Next time, let me do it. It’s no different to your doctor looking at you. I see body parts all the time.”

  “Darling, I haven’t seen that particular body part for many years. I have no intention of showing it again.”

  She laughed as we walked to the kitchen.

  “I’ll make you a cup of tea,” she said.

  As she sat opposite she smiled. “I like the new you. Not that I didn’t like the old you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re happier. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you joke or laugh as much.”

  “I guess being single suits me.”

  “Ben says that you should have left him years ago. I never liked him; he always made m
e feel inferior. Sorry if I’m talking out of turn.”

  “You’re not. He made me feel inferior too.”

  “I’m going to take a nap. This baby is exhausting me,” she said.

  I patted her belly as she walked past and settled down to check my emails.

  To: Jayne

  From: Stefan

  Date: 1 November 2014

  Subject: Brrrr!

  Snowing here and my apartment is freezing. I need warming up. ;) Flights are booked and I’ve rented a car. I know you offered to pick me up from the airport but I don’t want to trouble you. I’m flying into Exeter, so I’ll meet you at the cottage. I’ll email times later. Has Ben & Kerry moved in yet? I bet you’re excited. Can’t be long now before the baby arrives.

  S xx

  To: Stefan

  From: Jayne

  Date: 1 November 2014

  Subject: I have ideas for warming up ;)

  I am excited, although still in denial that I’m about to be a grandmother. Did you print off directions? I can send them, if you want. Do you know that if you’re ever stranded in a snowstorm the best way to warm up is get naked? I saw it on a survival programme once. Spoon naked! ;)

  J xx

  To: Jayne

  From: Stefan

  Date: 1 November 2014

  Subject: Spoon!

  Sounds good. I have a nice mental picture now. ;) Will there be snow in Cornwall?

  S xx

  To: Stefan

  From: Jayne

  Date: 1 November 2014

  Subject: Snow in Cornwall!

  Sadly, no. I don’t think our coastal towns get much snow. You’d need the highlands for that. We are scheduled for a terrible winter though. Wind and rain will probably be the norm. Huddled in front of the fire, listening to the storms—my idea of bliss.

  J xx

  I smiled as I read back. I’d questioned myself many times as to why we emailed when we could speak on the telephone. Our emails were always more fun, more flirtatious than our calls, and it worried me a little. Would there be that fun and banter when we met? I hoped so.

  With just a few days before my holiday, I was frantic. I had no real winter clothes other than jeans and the odd sweater. Carla had loaned me a couple of items but I was too much of a klutz to be allowed her designer wear. I’d be mortified to find I’d dripped red wine down the front of her cream cashmere cardigan. I sat on my bed looking at a pile of clothes. There was little to do in Cornwall except walk so I’d made sure to add some jeans, socks and my walking boots. I’d telephoned Nora to ask what the weather was like. We’d stayed in contact, perhaps speaking once a month, and I filled her on what the boys were up to. Both Greg and Scott emailed periodically, often with tales of adventures or wanting girlfriend advice. I was hoping that Ben and Kerry would join me next year in Cornwall so they could all meet.

  “I need to go into the village, want to meet for a coffee?” I asked Carla.

  I’d telephoned her with my clothes woe.

  “Sure, give me ten minutes?”

  “I’ll meet you there. I’m going to walk.”

  I wrapped up warm and headed out. The cold air stung my face but it felt invigorating. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck and stuck my gloved hands in my coat pocket.

  The warmth and steamy atmosphere of the coffee shop was welcome. I took a seat by the window and was immediately reminded of the time I’d sat there and Carla had mentioned our holiday. It was nearly a year to the day. So much had happened in the previous year. I watched Carla as she walked across the green. She had a military style red coat with brass buttons, a black fur hat, all Russian style, and black gloves. I knew those gloves would be kid leather and Burberry. Carla had a thing for leather gloves; I think she must have owned at least five pairs. They were all the same colour and all the same brand.

  “Hello, my friend,” she said as she approached.

  “I just ordered you a coffee, good timing.”

  “So, tell me about the clothes woe, or whatever you called it.”

  “I have jeans, t-shirts, a couple of sweaters and what you’ve loaned me. I need something to wear if we go out for dinner.”

  “I know it sounds odd but that black dress you wore at your dad’s…” She hadn’t wanted to say the word.

  “Oh, yes. Good idea. I have a red silk scarf somewhere that will jazz it up.”

  “So, check list. Manicure? Pedicure? Waxing? Condoms?”

  “Done, done, not doing, and what?”

  “Condoms, Jayne. You need to be prepared.”

  “For what? I’m not having sex with him, and I’m beyond getting pregnant, I think. Anyway, I’m on the pill.”

  “You might, and it’s to prevent disease,” she said just as Jo, the coffee shop owner, placed our coffees on the table.

  “Cake, dears? We don’t sell condoms here,” Jo asked.

  Both Carla and I looked at her. I turned beetroot, Carla laughed.

  “Oh, in my day, we had to reuse them. Washed them out in the sink, we did.”

  I wanted to die. I wanted to swallow my tongue and choke but then my ears would still be active. I needed to find a way to die instantly at that table. I was mortified.

  “Oh, recycling at it’s best, I guess,” Carla said.

  “We have coffee and walnut on offer today.”

  “Huh?” I asked, still in shock.

  “Cake, dear. We have coffee and walnut.”

  “Erm, yes, thank you,” I said.

  Jo walked away; I stared at Carla.

  “You can take that smile off your face. You know what will happen now, don’t you? Every-fucking-one in the village will think I’m a raving slut.”

  “No one thinks that. Maybe that you’re about to have rampant sex with a hot Danish guy, but that’s all.”

  “No Danish, just cake,” I heard.

  “Jo, do you have your hearing aid in today?” Carla asked.

  “I hear perfectly well. Now, did you want a Danish?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I whispered.

  “I think Jayne wants a Danish, shame you don’t have one here. The cake will do.”

  Jo placed two plates of cake on the table and winked at me as she walked away.

  “I think a little bit of Danish won’t hurt. Beats that twit of a husband of yours,” she said over her shoulder.

  “That’s it, I’m out of here,” I said.

  Carla was still laughing; I was trying very hard to stay mortified. Jo was a clever old bird. She’d pretend to be deaf but she knew everything that went on in the village. The coffee shop was the hub; I guess she got to hear a lot of gossip.

  “Kerry said something interesting today. She said she liked the ‘new me’.”

  “You can’t see how much you’ve changed since Michael left. You’re nearly back to the Jayne I knew pre-prick.”

  “Pre-prick? And nearly?”

  “Pre-Michael. You’ve blossomed. When was the last time you rang me and invited me out for coffee? A long time ago, Jayne. I always had to nag you to leave the house.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Now, can we get back to the condoms? This is a serious discussion.”

  “I doubt anything will happen. I’m not sure I want anything to happen, and shouldn’t it be up to him to sort that type of thing out?”

  “Maybe it will, maybe you will, and perhaps back in the fifties.”

  “I don’t have time to drive into town anyway,” I said.

  “Then it’s lucky we have a chemist here,” she said with a smile.

  “I’m not buying condoms from our chemist! I’ve known Mr. Harris since the kids were little.”

  “Drink up,” she said.

  “I’m not…”

  “We are. I’ll hold your hand.”

  We finished our coffees, ate the cake and left our payment on the table. I wrapped my scarf around my neck as we stepped from the warmth of the coffee shop into the biting cold.

  “I’m not
buying them,” I said, pouting as I did.

  “Think of it as part of your liberation.”

  We pushed through the chemist door, the bell tinkled to alert Mr. Harris he had a customer.

  “Oh, God! It’s her,” I whispered.

  Leaning on the counter was the gum-chewing sullen assistant. Thankfully she hadn’t bothered to look up, she was too engrossed in her trash mag.

  “Even better, that one won’t bat an eyelash at you buying condoms.”

  “Stop saying the word and keep your voice down.”

  “Okay, keep your knickers on. Now, down that aisle.”

  As I started to walk, Sullen Girl looked up. I gulped; she’d seen me. I stopped to look at the row of shampoo and selected one, not that I needed shampoo. I began to read the label. I glanced, as subtly as I could, towards her. She stared back. I turned to speak to Carla; she wasn’t there. The bitch had deserted me.

  “Liberated,” I whispered to myself. I took two sideways steps while still holding the bottle of shampoo.

  Trying to appear as if I wasn’t looking, I scanned the shelf in front of me. I gasped. I could hear the clip clop of high heeled boots and knew Carla was somewhere in the shop. She had to be ducking down so I couldn’t see her. I cursed her under my breath. Fishing in my pocket for my phone, I sent her a text.

  There are three fucking sizes!! Small, medium and large!! I wanted to overdo the exclamation marks so she knew I was in a serious dilemma.

  Pick one. Came the reply.

  I studied the shelves squinting to read the small text.

  I furiously typed. How the fuck do I know what size to pick! I might be insulting him, not that I’m going to use them.

  Ha ha ha, go for safe, medium.

  “Medium,” I whispered. I gasped again.

  My fingers fumbled over my phone as I tried to text.

  They are flavoured! This is not good.

  Strawberry medium then.

  Why are they flavoured?

  So they taste nice when you blow him?

  I dropped the shampoo, the bottle exploded, and a creamy liquid pooled over the grimy tiled floor.

  I heard a tut and looked over in time to see Sullen Girl slam her trash mag on the counter.