It Was Supposed To Be Just Us Girls

I have the best dermatologist in Atlanta. At least she is the best for me. A lovely French woman, about my age, she is the epitome of class and taste.

"Mrs. XXXXX, you look very young for your age," she complains every time I see her.

At that point, I whip out the most recent photos of my seventy five year old mother, a study in glowing pink and white, smooth skin with nary a wrinkle. She's an earthy Italian woman complete with quirks and affinities. Dr. De Peau shook her head with mock envy.

"What brings you here today? Surely it is not your face," she said wryly.

Slightly embarrassed, I looked at her and hesitated. She tilted her head and patiently waited, as if she knew I was broaching a delicate subject.

"I have umm, some ingrown hairs, down there, and they need your attention." I blurted. "Regular shaving to keep the stubble down has caused an unpleasant situation. "

As an athletic female with a hormonally improved sex life, smoothness is a daily turn on and therefore, a must. Yes, it gets very abrasive when the coarse hairs grow out, especially when I have to skip a day.

"Well, let's have a look."

She took me with all seriousness and didn't need to call the nurse in. After all, it was just us girls.

"We all go through this, dear." SHE called ME dear. I sighed. It's the price of being a woman."

"Yeah? I'm not the only one?"

Dr. De Peau smiled indulgently and patted me on the arm.

"But of course you are not. I see many women with this kind of thing."

Her French accent is so alluring. I could listen to her all day. Once in awhile, I practice my French on her. She listens with amusement and never corrects my pronunciation.

"Your skin looks very tender."

I've heard THAT before.

"Have you ever considered laser treatments for hair removal?"

My ears perked up as I hung on to every word.

"Uh, no."

Dr. De Peau enlightened me about laser treatments. This is a progressive doctor. She admitted to being totally hairless from neck down with this treatment. Why would I be surprised? A woman like Dr. De Peau can afford pretty much whatever she wants.

"Even there?" I pushed.

"Of course, Mrs. XXXXX, where it counts!" she said with a twinkle.

I got a special discount.

I arrived as clean shaven as possible. The treatment will reach the roots more effectively on a bald landing pad. Kayla, a bawdy southern gal and a real hoot, was the laser technician. Now I knew it was going to be a lot of fun. Almost naked from the waist down, she stood back to admire my thigh high stockings and high heels. I was going to church! Kayla whistled in admiration as she strapped my thighs to the side of the treatment chaise.

"Girl! Mmm. You ain't going to church. You're going to an ASSignation!" she joked.

Well, I did get a charge out of putting on this get up. It was always a fantasy, and, well, it was just us girls.

"This is going to be real cold," she waved a jar of clear gel. "It keeps the sting down."

Wait a minute, nobody told me about the sting!

Kayla approached me as if she was ready to serve a cup of coffee. My legs splayed, I brace myself for the cold sensation. Oh...my...God...She applied to all the nooks and crannies of my pussy, even inside the tender pink labia, then she reached to my asshole and rubbed with her long nailed finger. Oh, I just knew it was going to hurt. I squirmed and ground my ass deep into the examination table, wondering how many females lost control of their bowels here.

The laser tip looks like a slim size magic marker or the size of a thick pencil, allowing access to all the nether regions that don't see the light of day. The zaps were just that; zaps that made your butt jolt out of the seat.

"Sit still girl. Ya don't want the little man in the boat zapped, do ya?" she laughed as she moved to the Black Hole of Calcutta.

In no time at all, I got used to the zapping. It felt like a pleasurable little pain. There wasn't anything we didn't talk about and the time flew by. Before long I couldn't wait the six weeks to go back.

"Wait here sugar, I'm going to get more wet wipes to clean you up."

She left the door ajar! It just so happened Dr. De Peau was talking to a male patient of hers outside the examination room across the hall. His head rubber banded to my splayed legs, spike heels, and shiny glob of liquid at the center. Dr. De Peau followed his gaze to my stupefied face.

Dr. De Peau scanned the hall as she approached the room.

"Don't worry dear, you just got yourself another admirer," she grinned, and closed the door.