Amazing Grayson (#MyNewLife Book 3)

by M. E. Carter

  My nerves immediately calm as I walk into the front room. It’s decorated in soft blues and greys, relaxing music piping through some hidden speakers, and one of those glass waterfalls off to the side. I love the sound of water. It’s so soothing.

  “Hello. How can I help you?” The woman behind the desk is older than me. Probably in her 50’s. She’s dressed impeccably, hair pulled back in a soft chignon. Her eyes radiating warmth and calm.

  Man, I really lucked out with this Groupon. This is a fancy place.

  Feeling more confident in what’s about to happen, I approach with a genuine smile. “Yes, I have an appointment for a waxing.”

  She looks down at the giant appointment calendar on her desk. Even her handwriting is impeccable. “Oh yes. Greer Declan?” I nod. “You’ll be seeing Rachel today. I see you’re a new customer, so I’m going to have you fill out a few papers for me.”

  She hands me a clipboard and gives me instructions on what I’m signing. Within a few minutes, I’ve signed over my rights to sue for any accidental burns, which admittedly caused me to pause for a few seconds, and have been called to the back by a tiny woman.

  Maybe tiny is a bit of an exaggeration. She’s definitely short and fit, like an ex-gymnast or cheerleader. She smiles brightly at me, her blond ponytail bobbing back and forth as she leads me into a small room. The walls sport the same color palette as the front and the same music. The biggest difference is the table in the middle of the room.

  “I see you’re a new client,” Rachel remarks as she looks over the questionnaire I answered regarding allergies and treatment preferences. “We’re doing a Brazilian wax. Barely there or smooth as a baby’s bum?”

  Her question throws me for a loop. I’m too busy processing what she just said. I accidentally scheduled a Brazilian wax, not a bikini wax. I may not be current on the latest grooming trends, but even I know there’s a big difference between the two. “Smooth as… wait, what?”

  She smiles kindly. Obviously I’m not the first newbie she’s had. “I try to talk in code a bit. Makes it sounds less clinical. You have your choice of what style of wax you want. We can leave a patch, a strip straight down the middle, or get rid of it altogether. Your preference.”

  It occurs to me that this is one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had with a stranger. And I’m a romance editor who has social media, so I’m used to weird.

  “Since this is my first time, let’s leave a patch. But can it be kind of small? I know completely bare is the trend and all,” again, romance editor so I know things, “but that’s just weird.”

  Rachel laughs and reaches into a cabinet, pulling out some clean towels. “It’s not as much of a trend as you think. I have so many more clients that just want to clean up a bit. Now, go ahead and strip off all your clothes from the waist down and put these on.” Handing me a paper thong that I’m praying doesn’t give me a paper cut and a small towel that gives me flashbacks to my last gynecology appointment, she adds, “Then have a seat on the table and cover yourself with the towel. I’ll be back in a few.”

  Worried I’ll be caught with my pants around my ankles, my clothes are off faster than a stripper trying to pay her rent on time. Which leaves me more time to look around the room.

  From this vantage point, it reminds me even more of being at the gynecologist. Tiny towel that barely covers me and certainly doesn’t cover my ass. A real sheet on the table, so that’s an upgrade. Giggling, I think about looking down to see if there are stirrups attached. If so, I might have to question which office I actually came to.

  Wait… are there stirrups??

  A quick peek underneath the table reassures me that I am in the salon after all. That was a close one. Although I’m pretty sure the paper thong just ripped in half with my stretching.

  “Knock, knock.” I hear a rap on the door and Rachel sticks her head in the room, still smiling. I suppose she would be happy that it’s not her pubes getting ready to be yanked out.

  Okay, breathe, Greer. It will be fine. Millions of women do this every day.

  “Are you ready?”

  Taking a deep breath, I nod Rachel’s direction. “A little nervous, but I’ll be okay.”

  She closes the door behind her and crosses the room where a bowl of warm wax in a crock pot looking thing is waiting. Why didn’t I notice that before? Oh yeah. I was too busy inspecting the table of doom.

  “That’s to be expected, but I promise, it’ll be over before you know it. Go ahead and lie back.”

  I follow her instructions, praying the towel doesn’t fall off. It’s been a long time since anyone has been down there.

  She moves my leg so it’s bent at the knee, foot resting against my other leg. The good news, I’m more bendy than I thought I was. The bad news… she moves the towel around exposing parts of me that have never seen the light of day.

  “Are you comfortable?” she asks, gloved hand resting on my leg.

  “Yep,” I squeak out, eyes shut tight as I wait for the rip of skin.

  Instead, I feel a cool cloth run across my innermost thigh. That actually feels good, in an uncomfortably intimate way.

  “I’m just cleaning the area of any body oils so the wax works better.” More rubbing. “And now for a nice corn starch powder.”

  My body starts to relax. So far, this isn’t bad at all.

  “And now for the wax.”

  Again, not so bad. It’s warm and comforting. Like a mini heating pad on my inner thigh. She pats and presses and I close my eyes to rest. Why haven’t I done this before?

  Riiiiiip.

  “Ah!” I squeal, barely aware of her pressing down on the area of my skin that was just been violated in the most violent of ways. “Ohmygod, tell me you’re done!”

  I can tell she’s trying not to laugh when she says, “That was about a two-inch section. We have three or four more of those before moving inward.”

  “What?!” I screech, falling into the Lamaze breathing techniques I haven’t employed since Julie’s birth.

  “Give it a second.” Rachel pushes down lightly for a few more seconds until the pain is all but gone.

  Looking down to make sure there isn’t blood all over the table from a gaping wound, I realize, except for that initial sting, it actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

  “Huh,” I remark mostly to myself at this realization.

  Rachel looks down at me with another smile. “It passes quickly, doesn’t it?”

  I nod, still surprised that I didn’t really have anything to be worried about in the first place.

  “The first pull of your first time is always the worst,” she says, applying more wax to another part of my thigh. “Once the anticipation is gone, usually it’s not so bad.”

  As if she’s trying to prove a point, she takes that moment to rip the next strip of wax off.

  “Oof.” That’s the only reaction I give this time. “Wow. You’re right. I think my nerves made it so much worse. It doesn’t tickle. But it’s not horrible.”

  She finishes up my inner thigh, moving to the next one where we go through the same process before cleaning up more intimate parts. While she works, she tells me all about how she got into the business of waxing other people’s business. I concentrate hard on her story while I try not to notice exactly where her fingers are pressing. Turns out, she is, in fact, a former gymnast and waxing was a regular thing when she wore tiny leotards on a daily basis. Makes sense that now some of her regular clients come from the same gym she used to train at.

  Before I know it, I’m done and she’s having me sit up.

  “Wow, that wasn’t bad at all, Rachel,” I remark. “You do a great job.”

  “Well thanks. Now get on your hands and knees.”

  I’m almost positive my brain shorts out because I’m not understanding the last thing she just said. “I’m sorry, what?”

  She waves her hand around. “Hands and knees. We have one last area to wax.”


  Blinking rapidly, I’m trying to figure out if she’s meaning what I think she’s meaning.

  “Greer? You paid for a complete Brazilian. You know that right?”

  “Yes,” I squeak out because no. No, I did not know that.

  She turns away and grabs more cloths and popsicle sticks and other supplies that are now going to go in my bum. What is happening?

  “This is actually the easiest part. We’ll get you nice and cleaned up back there. You won’t need to have it done again for at least a month.”

  “That’s good.”

  That’s good? No it’s not good. I’m about to have the hair on my butthole waxed off and I can’t even think because I didn’t even know I had hair on my butthole.

  Following her instructions, I struggle to keep the tiny little towel draped over my backside. Of course, the effort is futile, and pointless as she just pulls it up, exposing my practically naked rear to the world.

  Okay, not the world. But it is facing the door. That’s going to be awkward if someone accidentally mistakes this room for the restroom.

  Placing her hand on my lower back, Rachel moves my last of the paper panties to the side and spreads the wax where the sun don’t shine.

  Ohmygod, there is hot wax in my ass and lord help me, but it actually feels good.

  I’m going to hell. I just know it.

  Riiiiiip.

  The wax comes off and a cool cloth comes on so fast, I barely register that it’s over and done with until she tells me to turn back over and relax.

  “Wait, that’s it?” I question, just in case she’s tricking me again.

  “That’s it.”

  “For real this time? I don’t have like, hang over the side of the bed or anything to reach some obscure hairs I don’t know about?”

  She laughs and removes her gloves, making a snapping sound. “Nope. All obscure parts are officially hairless now.” She pats my leg again. I’m sure she’s used to having to comfort people while they get over the shock of their first time. “Take your time getting dressed. I’ll meet you outside.”

  The door closes behind her and I’m left still feeling a little stunned by the turn of events. One thing is for sure though.

  If Ace is having any thought of backdoor action, he can forget about it. I’ve had more than enough fingers there for one day.

  “Hi,” Greer says with a huge smile, her face full of excitement and anticipation of tonight. I suspect it has less to do with me and more to do with having a night off of being a parent. Either way, I don’t care. She’s officially a sight for sore eyes.

  Before stepping foot inside her house, I have to get one thing straight, though. “Are the kids here?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. Joie picked them up at noon—”

  Before she can get the next words out of her mouth, I attack her like a starving man. My lips on hers, my hips pressed against hers, my fingers in her hair. Nipping at her bottom lip, her mouth parts just slightly and I take that as my invitation to enter. I should take my time. Should be a gentleman. But alone time is so infrequent, the only thing I can think is to take advantage of it.

  She doesn’t seem to mind. Pressing her into the wall so our bodies are aligned, I press my tongue into her mouth, tasting her, caressing her, enjoying her.

  We stay that way for several minutes, her hands tugging me tight to her, small moans falling from her lips when I press my pelvis into hers so she knows exactly how much I’m looking forward to tonight. I take it by her response, she’s excited about all our prospects, too.

  We see each other a couple times a week and it’s never anything special. Just quality time spent together. But tonight is different and we both know it. Tonight, there’s no time limit. Tonight we can stay out late or go home early. Tonight, we answer to no one, so I take advantage and enjoy the feel of her, the taste of her, the smell of her.

  When I think I’m about to combust, I force myself to pull away, but not too much. I don’t want to completely lose this connection. Instead, I press my forehead to hers and lick my lips.

  “Hi,” I whisper, still feeling the surge of hormones racing through me, but holding tightly to my control. I have plans for tonight that don’t’ include ripping her clothes off and having my way with her in her front hallway. With her door wide open.

  “Oh shit. Your door is still wide open.”

  I turn to grab the handle and slam it, her giggling behind me. Honest to goodness giggling, which I’ve never heard her do before. She laughs. She chuckles. But she’s never giggled like a school girl with a crush before.

  I spin back around slowly, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Are you… nervous?”

  Her face turns pink with her blush as she stammers “What? Why would I be nervous?”

  “Because I asked you to pack an overnight bag.” I stalk towards her, enjoying that she’s as on edge as I am. I don’t like playing games, but flirting like this is making the anticipation that much more fun.

  She presses herself back against the wall keeping her eyes glued to mine. “I’m not nervous about spending the night.”

  “Oh you’re not.” I box her in, leaning in as much as I can without actually touching her. We’re so close, I can feel her breath on my lips. I know I’m pushing my own limits, but I can’t help myself. The prospect of this evening combined with an empty house and her taste now on my tongue has me questioning my own resolve.

  “No.” She toys with my collar, straightening it absentmindedly. “I’m ready.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nods and then says the words I wasn’t expecting. “I went and got waxed just in case.”

  Aaaaaaand my brain shorts out.

  I can practically feel sparks coming from my ears. I’m sure my face goes completely blank as I blink. And blink again. And blink one more time.

  “We need to leave,” I grit out and pull my body away from hers quickly.

  This time she just laughs. No giggling. She knows how she just affected me. It was part of her evil little plan. A plan I can totally get on board with.

  “Wait.” She grabs my arm and spins me around, her thumb coming to my lips. “I don’t think this shade of lipstick is your color.”

  I smile as I watch her concentrate on wiping her lipstick off my mouth. I love being this close to her. I love making her smile and laugh. I love how effortless it is to be with her. We can spend an hour at night talking about an interesting topic. Or we can spend an hour having a silent lunch in the park enjoying the sunshine. We’ve done both.

  “There,” she finally says. “Good as new.”

  Never taking my eyes off hers I whisper, “Thank you,” and give her another quick peck.

  “Hey!” she protests. “Don’t dirty yourself up again.”

  “Sorry.” I’m not sorry. Looking around, I see a duffle bag on the floor by the door. “Are we bringing this with us?”

  Her blush returns. “Um, yeah. I know we talked about being presumptuous, but since I’m not under any time constraints tonight…”

  “Greer,” I stop her, putting my hand on her cheek making her look at me. “Nothing has to happen if we don’t want it to. Actually, if you don’t want it to because I already know I won’t turn you down.” She giggles again and I admit how much I like hearing it. It’s endearing that she’s nervous about spending the night with me.

  “I know. It’s just… it’s been a long time.”

  “For me, too.”

  She nods and takes a deep breathe. “Well then let’s go. You need to wine and dine me and see if this goes anywhere from here.”

  My heart swells, along with another appendage. I don’t give her a chance to change her mind. I grab her duffle, then grab her hand, and out the door we go.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I can’t believe you brought me here,” she squeals. “I’ve always wanted to go to a real Texas rodeo. I didn’t even know it was in town.”

  Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright as she t
akes in the arena. There’s a lot to look at. From the professional riders to the rodeo clowns to the people watching, she hasn’t looked at me once since we sat down. There’s just too much excitement. That’s what I was hoping would happen. That she would enjoy herself.

  “What? There’s at least one ad every commercial break these days.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t really watch TV. I don’t even have cable.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Then what do you watch?”

  “Nothing really. I’d rather read. We have one of those internet stick things so if we want to stream something we can.”

  I think for a second but I’m still confused. “But our first date, Jack was watching sports.”

  “Jack set the whole thing up since I’m not that technologically inclined. Who knows what he found. It could have been old games for all I know.”

  She continues to look around, taking it all in. “So what are we going to see anyway?”

  “Whatever we want. We can go see the farm animals or ride the carnival rides.”

  She scrunches her nose, clearly not thrilled with that idea, making me laugh.

  “What? Not a fan of rollercoasters?”

  “Oh I love rollercoasters,” she says. “Ones that are actually bolted into the ground permanently. I have the weird obsession with not flying through the air and landing in the parking lot.”

  Squeezing her shoulder because she’s so close and yet I can’t help wanting her even closer, I laugh. “We’ll stay away from the fairgrounds then. You might like the events tonight anyway. They’re starting with Mutton Busting in just a few minutes.”

  She looks at me for the first time since we sat down. “Is that where the little kids ride the sheep?”

  I nod, grinning at her because I know she’s going to love this event. “Sure is. It’s like a miniature version of bull riding, but with little kids. To win, they have to stay on for six seconds.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, we see a group of kids all dressed in protective gear cross through the arena. Sure enough, the sheep are being set up in the stalls, ready to take off and run.