"Sorry I'm late," I said, out of breath, "I got held up in traffic and the parking is horrendous at this time."
"I'd given up on you," said Geeta, "you're my last client. Everyone's gone home, and I was about to shut the salon."
"It's OK, though ... isn't it?"
"Of course it is ... let's see what you're in for," she said, fingering through the appointments book. "Oh, full legs ... and a Brazilian ... we'd better get on with it."
She took me into the treatment room and told me to lie on the couch, while pulling on a pair of latex gloves and stirring the molten wax in the pot on the side table. Reedy mood music played from the speaker in one corner, punctuated with tinkling bells and strange violin sounds -- like oriental muzak.
"Not seen you for a while," she said, flashing her wide eyes at me before pasting my leg with wax.
"I'm so busy at the moment ... with my summer job and preparing for university ... and my social life is so-o hectic," I said, staring up at the brightness of fluorescent light over me.
"A beautiful girl like you, Ashleigh ... I bet the boys won't leave you alone."
"They all want to get their hands on me."
"Who wouldn't want to get hold of a girlie like you ... with your figure and looks?"
I liked Geeta. She was tiny compared to me with pencil thin arms. Her hands were small, but strong from years of massaging and pampering clients. I loved the golden brown colour of her skin -- something that would take me a fortnight in the Mediterranean sun to develop.
She always asked lots of questions, suggestive questions, probing into my affairs, as though she wanted to know everything about me. It didn't bother me. There was nothing to be ashamed of in my private life. Over the time I visited her, I'd told her lots about my relationships -- even filling in some of the details.
I winced as she worked away on my legs. Her professional pace told me she wanted to get the job done and go home. Our beauty parlour talk continued: about my social life; about leaving school; about the boys I'd meet studying law at university; about my summer job in my Dad's estate agent office; about trivia -- never finishing one topic before moving to the next.
"You've never had a Brazilian before," Geeta said, as she finished off smoothing down my legs with lotion. Her soft brown eyes looked into mine, full of questions.
"I've been shaving myself ... but find it awkward."
"It hurts, you know."
"It'll be worth it."
"There's two ways of doing this ... you put on paper knickers and I work around them ... or the full on way.
"I'm not shy ... I'll take off my knickers and you can just go for it."
"You got a hot date then?"
"You're always very inquisitive, Geeta."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"You must think I put myself around a bit."
"That's what I did at your age."
The wax hit the area inside my bikini line and made me shiver, which surprised me because it was warm. Within seconds, she was zipping away at my bush and, after each pull, rubbing her fingers into the cleaned off area. I tried to listen to the music to ease the pain.
"It's good that you've been shaving ... the hairs aren't too long. So what's it to be? Do you want me to leave a landing strip ... or do you want everything off?"
"I want every hair gone."
She started again at the top and I felt more wax slopping over my mound and running down slightly. It was smoothed over and whipped away in a trice. The pain made me jump as every hair was taken with it.
"How did you learn to do a Brazilian?"
"A friend and I paired off at college and we did it on each other."
"That must have been embarrassing."
"It was one of the most erotic things I've ever done ... it made us so horny ... we were almost ravishing each other on the bus home."
"I thought you were married."
"I am ... but I've had my moments," Geeta said, her eyes filling with mischief, letting me in on one of her secrets.
"I think being married would be too restrictive for me," I said, "I like my freedom too much."
"I had the full Indian wedding ... but the deal was that I could still have my girlies."
The pain of another strip of pubic hair being yanked out from the roots overwhelmed the significance of her reply. This time, tears welled up in my eyes.
"Doesn't he mind?" I asked as the hurt diminished under the massage of her strong fingers.
"Certainly not ... his part of the deal was to get to share some of them." She laughed and raised a sculpted eyebrow at me.
I felt my eyes widening as I looked up at the fluorescent light above me and studied the dead flies caught inside the fitting -- possibly killed by the boredom of the repetitive music. My attention was diverted by the next application of wax being spread across me -- each one getting closer to my slit.
"I never realised you were so naughty, Geeta."
"I know a lot about women who have Brazilian waxes, Ashleigh."
"Like what?"
"Like a woman only has a Brazilian for a lover ... man or woman ... and expects to be rewarded for going through the agony."
"You must have seen some sights."
"I've had the lot ... young and old ... large and small ... wide open and tight shut ... no two the same."
"How does mine rate?" I asked, opening my legs slightly.
She stopped work and looked at me, turning her head from side to side. "Young and tight ... but now I need you to open your legs wider ... to let me get at the intimate bits."
The wax was spread alongside my vulva, then zip and I felt the draught as another area became exposed. I worried what the tears were doing to my mascara as she started work on the other side, all thoughts of the muzak gone from my mind.