She is as beautiful as I remembered, though it has been a month since my first appointment. As it was the first time I saw her, her hair was the first thing to catch my attention. The color has changed. It isn't the shade of bright pink that first caught my attention. She has had it dyed a vibrant two-toned blue that is just as eye catching. The color is a stark contrast to the elegant décor of the day spa. I am sitting in an uncomfortable chair surrounded by candles and somber paintings. I suppose it is supposed to be relaxing, but I find the ambiance slightly irritating. I am much more interested in watching the bright haired woman about to take me back to a room for a bikini wax. My mind wanders...
As she did the previous month, my blue haired specialist leads me down the hall to a room on our left. The room looks like the room we used last time, but they really all look the same so its impossible for me to be sure. There is a table in the middle of the room covered in that same paper material doctor's offices use to cover their exam tables. Generic flowery paintings line the walls. Just to the right of the table is a countertop and drawers that hold the waxing products. I see the familiar dark blue wax, the tweezers, the cotton balls, and the wooden applicators all arranged neatly, waiting to be used. She keeps her waxing station tidy, I like that. I gladly follow her inside. I slip my mask off to smile widely as she closes the door. I compliment her hair. I'm flirting a little, I'll admit.
"This will be our room today" she says cheerfully. He voice is melodic, like a song I have enjoyed before. "I have you down for a bikini wax, is that right?" I nod, suddenly shy.
"Go ahead and undress, then have a seat on my table." She smiles at me and I wonder at the bit of wickedness in that grin. I reach down to unbutton my jeans, tugging them off my hips. I feel her eyes on me. She should have turned around by now. Instead, she watches as I step out of my jeans and slowly slip off the black lace underneath.
"Take your top off too. Your shirt is too long, it will be in the way," she commands me smoothly. That's bullshit I think, but I have no intention of arguing. I'm not sure to what end this game will come, but I am happy to play along. I peel off my cumbersome shirt. I reach back and unhook my bra letting the straps slide off my shoulders, then toss it in on top of the rest of my discarded cloths. I feel vulnerable, but she rewards my efforts with a nod of approval. Her big brown eyes travel down my body. I feel my cheeks turning red. I fold my arms across my chest, hiding my rigid nipples that threaten to give away my desire. I want her. She takes a step closer to me. She reaches out to pull my arms away from my chest.
"There is no need to hide beautiful one," she whispers to me. My blush deepens, creeping down my neck and onto my exposed chest. She reaches out to slip the mask off my face. In the excitement I had forgotten all about it. She traces a finger across my cheek and over my lips where she lingers just a moment.
"Lay down. Legs apart." I scramble to follow her instruction.
"Come on now beautiful. Bend your knees and let your legs drop to the side. You know how this works," she encourages. Normally yes, I know what to expect. In this moment though, I have no idea. She puts a hand on each of my thighs and presses down gently, spreading me further apart. Desire shots through me like fire. She teases me with soft, little strokes on the inside of my thighs. Her touch is so soft it almost tickles. I let out a moan of appreciation. She leans over and kisses me carefully. Then she moves one hand up beside my head to steady herself as she leans closer to deepen the kiss. Too soon she straightens, pulling away from my mouth. I reach out for her; I want her softness and curves close to me again. She smiles and bats away my hand. Her hands trace down my stomach sending shivers though me. Her hands reach between my legs and again I let out a small moan. I feel her push apart my lips with her fingers. She begins to stroke either side of my clitoris with long, teasing motions. She is steady until she flicks my clit. I clutch the table beneath me, gasping.
"Please..." I whimper, lifting my head so that I can watch her. She meets my gaze.
"You like a little pain then beautiful one?" she asks, but doesn't bother to wait for my reply. She switches her strokes. She makes tight fast circles on my clit. The direct pressure is almost too much. She switches directions, her fingers now moving in larger circles the opposite direction. I can barely get my bearings before she changes her strokes again. My back arcs, my body raising up to meet her hand. I'm all short gasps and happy moans now. I tense, building toward climax.
"Not yet beautiful," she tells me and quickly pulls her hands away from me. I squirm again the empty space where she had been. My body aches to finish, but she is not allowing it. She steps away from me. I collapse back onto the table. I cannot yet form the words to protest. I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for my mind to come back to me. I can hear her near me, shuffling items on the countertop. I turn my head to look at her. Her loose t-shirt cannot hide the roundness of full breasts waiting beneath the spa's logo. Her jeans are tight, hugging her shapely legs. I envy her soft curves, so feminine and inviting. After a few moments she decides I have had enough time to recover myself. She turns to face me.
