by Reilly, Cora
She snatched the binoculars from my fingers and peered through them. I lowered my head, feeling absolutely mortified. Could it get worse? Amy caught me watching my neighbor having sex. Now she probably thought I was a pervert and she'd never talk to me again.
I jumped slightly when I heard her excited screech. She bounced up and down, and let out a delighted giggle when she found what she was looking for. Adrian's bedroom window, I assumed.
“I can't believe it!” she exclaimed with more giggles. “Adrian naked, having sex with a brunette!”
I bit my lip, utterly surprised by her reaction and not sure what to say. She didn't seem mad at me or disgusted by what I did. Amy was a strange woman.
“How long have you been doing that?” she asked curiously, not taking her eyes from Adrian's window.
“Ummm....for a while,” I admitted in embarrassment. I could feel the heat in my cheeks increasing. I was only glad that Amy hadn’t caught me with my hand shoved into my panty. I didn’t think I would have gotten over that kind of mortification.
She shook her head, grinning, and lowered the binoculars to look at me. “Damn it. My window doesn't face this way.”
I frowned. “You've got Jared.”
She let out a bell-like laugh. “I know and I'm not interested in Adrian. He's too much of a heart breaker anyway, but it would be fun to watch him. Maybe I'd learn something. Or maybe Jared and I could watch him together. It would be like live-porn.” She giggled again and brought the binoculars back to her eyes, peering through them.
I exchanged a look with Bruno and shook my head in disbelief. My life was getting stranger every day.
Chapter Six
I took another sip from my coffee as I watched Amy. She was drinking her own cup of coffee and was completely immersed in a foodie magazine. Her Matcha tea phase seemed to have passed, or maybe she had returned to coffee for my sake. Of course it wasn’t just any coffee. It was organic and fairtrade. Sometimes I felt bad for buying the regular stuff, but I didn’t have enough money to afford a good conscience. Amy turned a page, taking another sip of her coffee.
It was often like this. We had breakfast together in comfortable silence and it didn't feel awkward at all. Amy and I just seemed perfect for each other. If she were a man and if there Jared weren’t in the picture, we could be the dream couple.
While the silence usually didn’t bother me, I was trying to build up the courage to ask Amy a question that had been bothering me for days. Now that she knew about my voyeuristic tendencies, I didn’t even have to make up a silly reason for why I was interested in the topic. I just wasn't sure how to broach the subject.
Every girl that I'd seen in Adrian's bedroom had been shaved completely. There hadn’t been a single hair. And I was starting to wonder if this was normal, if all girls that had sex on a regular basis were shaved. My hair style down below was rather natural and I began to worry that this wasn't what men preferred. It couldn't really be a coincidence that every girl that Adrian had banged so far had been bare, could it?
So either he asked every woman he met if she was shaved – which I doubted very much. Most women didn’t take it kindly if a guy asked them about their private parts – which I knew from personal experience. Some men at work lost every sense of propriety after their third beer. It was one of the most awkward topics.
But if Adrian didn't ask them, this could only mean that the majority of women were shaved, and that would mean that my haircut wasn't normal.
I was starting to have a headache from the topic. I'd never thought that I would have to worry about a haircut for the “Netherlands”. What a mess. Maybe I should give up on guys and dating and sex for good, and look into becoming a nun.
“So Amy,” I began, twisting the cup in my hands. “What do you think about shaving...”
Amy lifted her gaze from the magazine and frowned at me in confusion.
“Umm...I mean...down there, you know,” I murmured, nodding toward my lap and feeling my face heat in embarrassment.
Amy shook her head with a smile. “Waxing is the magic word. Not shaving. That’s so yesterday’s news. I mean with all the hard stubbles peeking out after a day.”
I blinked. “Waxing?”
“Yes, I know a good waxing studio. I'm going there quite often to get a waxing. They are amazing. A huge percentage of their clients are men, gay men, and if that isn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is. Or course, there are straight men getting a waxing too, swimmers and runners who think smooth legs and arms make them faster, and…” I could tell that she wouldn’t stop talking any time soon. Whenever a topic was important to her, she could go on about it for hours. I just hadn’t known that something like waxing was on that list. Veganism, fairtrade, interior design and yoga, those I could understand, but waxing?
I coughed. “So you're waxed. Completely?” I tried not to let a picture of Amy’s vagina pop up in my head and almost broke into a sweat from the effort.
She laughed again and looked at me like I was the cutest little thing she’d ever seen. I had to admit that it made me feel really dumb. “Yes. Jared loves it. Have you never done it?”
I bit my lip nervously. “No. There was never the need for me to...since I never really had a long-term relationship…”
“Nothing is better than waxing. No hair is a must, really. And you don’t have to be in a relationship to take care of yourself. I think we women should do more things for ourselves,” she said with a grin. When I thought of things I could do for myself, ripping my hair out, root and all, somehow didn’t cross my mind. I’d always filed that under torture and not so much wellness.
“At first I always got the Brazilian Landing strip, but then I decided to get the Brazilian Hollywood Cut, and Jared positively adores it. Nothing is more perturbing than having hair in your mouth all the time.”
I stared at her with wide eyes, not having the slightest clue what she'd just talked about. “Brazilian what?” I was either the dumbest person on the planet, or Amy was simply weird. So far I’d associated Brazil with carnival, the Copacabana and the Amazon.
She giggled, definitely amused by my cluelessness. “I guess we need to deal with the basics first.” She sat up straighter and folded her hands. “Landing strip means that a thin strip of pubic hair remains. Hollywood Cut means that every single hair gets removed. There's also the option of having a Brazilian Triangle, but I've never had it.”
My face felt like it was burning up but I couldn't take my eyes from Amy. She didn't seem embarrassed at all by the topic. She talked about it as though it was the most normal thing in the world, but maybe it was, and I was just a freak.
“So men like it?”
Amy nodded her head vehemently. “Most men don't like their women all bushy.” She paused, scrutinizing me. “I've got an idea. It's Saturday and we both don't have anything better to do. So why don't we go to my favorite waxing studio and get a waxing. I'm due anyway.”
I swallowed, a bit nervous but also very excited. “Sure, why not.”
I yelped in surprise when Amy grabbed my thigh and pushed my trouser leg up. She took a look at my calf and ran a hand over it. I blushed furiously, knowing that I hadn't gotten around to shaving for a few days. Could my mortification get any worse?
Amy tilted her head in contemplation. “I’m not sure if your hair is long enough. We’ll have to ask if we can have your legs waxed as well.”
I nodded numbly, gulping down the rest of my coffee.
Amy jumped up from her chair, startling Bruno who'd been sleeping on his back, snoring loudly. He rolled onto his stomach and watched us. I stood and patted his head in apology.
“Come on, Nora. Let's go. The sooner we get rid of your body hair, the better,” Amy shouted loud enough for probably the entire neighborhood to hear.
My face was as red as a tomato as I followed Amy out of my apartment and down the stairs toward her Mini Cooper.
Amy was a fast driver, even worse than most Cab drivers
, and a few times I actually feared for my life but luckily we arrived safely at our destination. The waxing studio Amy led me into was held in white and light green tones and there were bright orange sofas and armchairs everywhere. The woman behind the counter recognized Amy immediately and greeted us very friendly, which probably should have set me at ease. She was even taller than me and had a waist to kill for. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tidy ponytail. Despite her smile, I was a bit intimidated. This place looked expensive, and even Amy’s words couldn’t get me excited about spending a little fortune on someone torturing me.
“So what can I do for you and your friend?” the woman asked.
Amy smiled. “Armpits, Legs, Brazilian Hollywood Cut,” the words shot out of her mouth without hesitation and I didn't dare to object, though I wondered if the Hollywood Cut was the right thing for me. Maybe I should start small, with a Triangle or something like that. Then an image of Adrian with his women shot through my head and I decided that I could do it. I’d survived two years in Jack’s bar. How bad could this really be?
A woman who looked to be in her late twenties with curly, brown hair introduced herself as Marie, my Depiladora. Apparently, that was the correct term for someone who removed people's hair. There was so much I needed to learn. The word sounded glamorous. Maybe I should consider changing jobs. But the thought of ripping someone’s hair from their lady parts somehow sounded even worse than serving beer to drunk assholes. Oh well…
Amy waved me good bye as she was led into a room, and I followed Marie into another small room where I had to undress and lie down on a orange lounger. Marie smiled at me while she put something that looked like honey on my calf. It was warm and felt quite nice.
“This will hurt a little,” my Depiladora warned me.
I prepared myself for the pain, or so I'd thought, and nearly passed out when Marie ripped the wax from my calf. I might have screamed, I wasn't sure, but little stars were dancing in front of my eyes. Marie smiled at me and showed me the wax with my hair. I tried to smile in return but it turned into a grimace. Why did people do this on a regular basis? Were all those people masochists? Amy didn't seem to me like she enjoyed pain, but how could she do this over and over again?
I felt more wax being put on my calf and I was about to protest when I thought of Adrian and all his stupid bimbos that could do this. I bit down on my lip and didn't make a noise when the hair was ripped from my calf. I hope you’ll reward me, Adrian.
“It will get less painful if you get a waxing regularly. The hair gets thinner and soon you won't feel the pain anymore,” Marie assured me while she worked on my thighs. Maybe she was right.
“We need to crop your pubic hair a bit before we can start. It's too long for waxing,” she explained when she was done with my legs and I felt myself blush deeply. Now it was official, I was a freak. My hair was even too long for waxing. Nora, the bushy freak.
I tried to think of anything but the woman who was currently cropping my hair down there with scissors.
“Done,” she said after a moment. “Now you can get your Hollywood Cut.”
My bravery evaporated when I felt the warm wax being spread on my cubic bone. I stared at the ceiling, trying to think of Adrian, and then my vision turned black for an instant. I sat up, my eyes wide while I tried to get over the pain. I drew in a shaky breath and stared at my pubic area where a strip of hair was missing. My skin was turning red fast. That had hurt like hell. But I had to admit that it looked good without hair, or it would look good once the redness went away.
Marie made fast work of the hair on my pubic bone but then she turned her attention to my labia and I cursed Amy, and all men, but particularly Adrian.
“Turn around, please,” Marie said when she was done with my front.
I followed her orders. She'd already removed the hair from the back of my legs, so I didn't know what she was doing there. I almost screamed in shock when I felt her spread the wax on my buttocks and the groove between my thighs and buttocks. I didn't even know that I had hair there.
I closed my eyes and endured the rest of the torture. A sigh of relief left my lips when Marie told me that we were done. She spread a cooling cream that smelled like lavender on my skin and the pain lessened. With a smile, she left the room to give me some privacy, so I could get dressed. But really what was the point? She’d seen it all. The muscles in my legs were quivering when I got dressed. The last time I’d felt like that, Amy had talked me into running a 5k with her. I wasn’t sure what was worse.
I walked out of the room and Amy was already waiting for me, her perfectly waxed legs crossed and another foodie magazine in her hands. It wasn’t all that surprising that her waxing hadn’t taken as long as my treatment. Her Depiladora probably hadn’t wished for a lawnmower when Amy had pulled down her panties. Nora, the bush freak. Maybe I should get it on a t-shirt. Who knew, maybe the guys in the bar would stop patting my ass if I wore it, or maybe some would be turned on by it. She smiled sympathetically when she saw my face. I guess I didn't look too good. “Painful?” she asked. She put down her magazine and walked over to me.
I nodded my head, still marveling at the feeling of my underwear without hair down there. It felt strange.
“It will get better,” Amy assured me. “And new experiences make life interesting.”
I shook my head. “I don't think I'll do it again.”
“Of course, you will. Once you know how smooth your skin can feel, you won't want it any other way,” she said.
***
Later that day, when I was alone in my bedroom, I realized that Amy was probably right. I guess waxing was like giving birth. During labor, women swore to themselves that this was their last child and as soon as the pain was forgotten and they saw the reward for their efforts, those words were null and void.
I couldn't stop looking at myself and I almost felt like a pervert for staring at my private parts for so long, but I couldn't help it. I was completely bare and now that the redness had faded it looked fantastic. Hesitantly, I ran a finger over my vulva, amazed by the softness of the skin. Now I understood why Adrian liked it. It felt amazing. The only problem was that Adrian would probably never feel or see it.
I groaned. The thought that all the pain was for nothing made me unreasonably angry.
I took another look at my reflection in the mirror and frowned. Somehow my labia looked strange. Did all women look like this down there when they were waxed? I'd never paid close attention to other women’s nether parts in the changing room. I couldn't help but feel self-conscious about how I looked down there. Did men really like the sight of it? Hard to imagine. I guess sex only in the dark for me.
Bruno sat next to me, staring at me intently. He looked as if he approved of my new haircut. I covered my private parts with my hand and glared at him. His little pink tongue dropped out of his mouth and he started panting. I let out a frustrated sigh and got dressed hastily.
I ignored Bruno and walked toward my bedroom window. After extinguishing the lights, I drew back the curtains and took my usual seat on the windowsill. I peered through my binoculars and found Adrian's window within seconds. It was illuminated, but I hadn't expected anything else.
Another redhead was pressing her body against Adrian, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He was already shirtless and a soft sigh left my lips as I gazed at his perfect chest. I didn't approve of his changing sex partners but I tried not to think about it. Not that it was any of my business. The women probably knew what they were getting into and as long as I got to see him naked, I was satisfied.
Adrian unzipped the dress of the redhead and it dropped to the ground, leaving her completely naked. She wasn't even wearing underwear! Where did Adrian get his women? I never went anywhere without underwear. That felt wrong. Almost perverted. But who was I to call someone a pervert? I was a waxed peeping Tom with strange looking labia. I certainly didn't have the right to judge anyone.
I returned my attention to t
he scene in Adrian's bedroom. He'd gotten naked during my inner monologue and had the women bent over and bracing herself on the windowsill. Her forehead was leaning against the glass of the window and Adrian was standing behind her. I had to admit I was a bit worried. If Adrian pounded her with his usual vigor, the poor woman would probably end up with a concussion from having her forehead thrust against the glass. The redhead didn’t seem to share my worries, though. She looked as if she couldn't wait for Adrian to push into her. I shifted my binoculars slightly to take a look at Adrian's face.
And then I was staring directly into green eyes and he was staring back at me.
He. Was. Staring. Back. At. ME.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
There wasn't a single doubt in my mind that Adrian was currently looking at me while I was watching him like a freaking stalker. Oh shit, shit, shit.
I should have been more careful. He had noticed me! I froze and for a seemingly endless amount of time, we were just looking at each other. The woman didn’t seem to notice. She wiggled her ass against him, encouraging him to get started. Suddenly the corner of Adrian’s mouth lifted and he smiled at me smugly.
What?
My heart skipped a beat.
Holy shit! Was he actually flirting with me?
My hand that was holding the binoculars shook so much, I was worried I'd drop them any second. Not taking his eyes off me and still smiling this cocky smile, he grabbed the hips of the redhead and pushed into her, never taking his eyes off me. I gasped and my hand covered my mouth in shock. He'd noticed me and yet he didn't stop. He seemed to like it. His green eyes were so intense as his face clouded with ecstasy.
I backed away, wrenched the curtains shut, dropped the binoculars and threw myself on my bed. My heart felt like it was going to burst through my ribcage. Every thud reverberated in my temples. He'd noticed me. I was so screwed, and not in a good way…