Getting Her Nails Done Ch. 02

The question caused Connie to look up, and as a smile appeared on her face, she answered, "Bo was horny."

"He looked pretty horny when...you know..." Lynsay replied.

"Yeah, but not like this. I could barely move when he was done. He almost killed me," she laughed.

From there, the older woman began to give a description of everything that had occurred and the further she got, the more detailed and specific she became. Lynsay barely said a word as Connie held the stage, and it made her wonder once again about the woman's need for a confidant. Perhaps, she thought, it was the real motivation behind Connie's invitations and recountings. Maybe, she too, felt uncomfortable and needed a friend to share things with.

"Okay, step over here and let's get you sleek looking," she stated when her mani-pedi was over.

Lynsay had been so distracted by the woman's descriptions that she didn't realize they were almost done. She followed Connie's direction and got in place, but when she felt the woman start to remove her thong, she suddenly realized that something was very wrong. The sudden chilly feeling as the air hit her vagina told her that she was wet. Instantly, her entire body turned beet red and she prayed that somehow the older woman wouldn't notice. However, her hopes were soon dashed.

"Don't worry about that. All my talking has got me worked up, too," she laughed.

"Oh, my God. Connie! I'm so embarrassed," she cried out and put her knees together.

"Stop it!" Connie giggled, and slapped her leg, and when she didn't open them, she used her hands to pull on her knees. When she had Lynsay open, she said, "You're human honey. No big deal."

"Please hurry," she whimpered, wanting to be done so she could flee.

The woman seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to trim her in preparation for the wax, although she knew it could just be her nervousness distorting things.

"What part did you like the best," Connie asked.

"Oh, my God," Lynsay declared as her hands covered her face.

There was no further response from the young wife, and Connie continued about her task for a minute or so before she said, "Sweetie, I need to clean you up a little bit before I put the wax on, so be still."

By now, Lynsay was incapable of speaking and remained silent as the woman went through the process of making her smooth. During the latter part of the ordeal, her thoughts went to her husband and the fact that he might very well query her about the session. She knew there was no way on God's green earth that she would ever admit what had happened.

"Finished," Connie said, and then quickly added, "Calm down honey. You're way too worked up. It ain't a big deal."

"Okay," she let out in a squeak, and then dressed and bolted as fast as she could.

All the way home, she thought about Connie's gossipy nature, and she became terrified as she considered that the woman might tell one of her other customers. They would likely never know the context, only hearing that she had become wet while receiving a waxing. It wore on her so heavily that as soon as she got home, she immediately typed out a text.

"Connie, please, please don't tell anyone," the message said.

She was hoping for a simply affirmation, so she was surprised when she saw the screen filled with words.

"Honey, don't you worry AT ALL. I like you a lot and I would never do that to you. You can trust me. You can always trust me. On everything. I got your back girl," she responded.

In truth, Lynsay had no reason to trust the woman or believe her words, but for some reason she did. For some reason, the words were very reassuring and her anxiousness quickly disappeared.

True to form, her husband went to the subject of the session right after dinner. He was still seeking ways to boost the eroticism in their bedroom, and was hoping something interesting had occurred. Lynsay was prepared for his interrogation and she easily deflected his probes until he gave up and moved on. However, later in bed when they were cuddled together, Mike returned to the subject.

"She didn't ask you to watch again?" he asked from out of the blue.

"No, Mike," she said in an exasperated voice.

"I'm sorry. I know I bug you on this too much, but it's just so bizarre and in a strange way that makes it interesting," he replied.

"I know," she said patting his arm, pleased with his simple apology, and after a moment, she added, "But, no... nothing."

"Would you ever do it again?" he asked.

"No," she responded.

There were no further questions from her husband, but Lynsay wondered if she could have looked into his eyes if she would have seen the same disappointment that was there on the patio.

"Don't you dare cancel, girl!" read the text message from Connie that arrived the day before her scheduled session.

It brought an instant smile to the young wife's face as she had indeed been considering skipping the appointment. Despite, the sweet message from her, she was still deeply embarrassed and humiliated by her reaction during the last session and didn't think she could face the woman.

"I'm not going to!" she answered, deciding to deal with it.

"Lynsay, my favorite customer!" Connie declared when she stepped into her salon the next day.

"I bet you say that to everyone," she answered with a laugh.

"No, I don't. Trust me. Now sit," she said pointing at the chair and when the younger woman was seated, the she got a serious expression, and said, "I'm glad you didn't cancel."

"I wasn't going to," she stated.

"You thought about it," Connie challenged her.

"No, I didn't..." she started, but looking at the older woman's fixed gaze she broke down and admitted, "Okay, I was thinking about it."

"Yep, I know...I know Ms. Lynsay better than you think, and I've decided she needs to lighten the fuck up," she replied, and then began to laugh.

"I can't! I'm...I... just can't..." she giggled.

"I know..." Connie said and patted her shoulder.

They started their standard process, chatting and gossiping while the manicurist worked, and they stayed away from any uncomfortable talk until the work began on her feet.

"Did you tell your husband what happened?" the older woman asked.

"No... No, I didn't," Lynsay admitted.

"Why not?" Connie asked.

"I...I...it was too embarrassing, and I didn't want to relive it," she laughed, and strangely the older woman didn't respond. After almost a minute of silence, she added, "He's too interested...he always wants to know what we talk about. And, you know...he brings it up all the time."

"In the bedroom?" Connie asked.

"Sometimes," Lynsay replied.

"Men...they're all damn perverts," she laughed.

"Why? What do you mean?" the young wife asked.

"Honey, you never came right out and said it, but I got the feeling he jumped your bones when he found out you watched Bo. I mean, after he scolded you for not telling him before," she said and began to chuckle, and after a short pause, she continued with, "Now, your telling me he still goes to it when y'all are in bed...sometimes."

"So? That might be true," Lynsay said, still uncomfortable in admitting her sexual activities with her husband.

"It's true. So, that tells me it made him hot. Did he tell you not to watch again?" she asked.

"I...I... guess he mostly left it up to me," she answered, wondering why she was engaging with the woman on such an intimate subject.

"Mostly? Did he say no?" she pushed.

"He didn't say no," she told the woman.

"What'd he say?" Connie probed.

"He...I guess he asks if I... I would ever do it again?" she said.

"Like he wants you to?" came the older woman's quick response.

"No, more like he wants to know my thoughts. That's how it comes out..." she explained but let her words drift off.

"And?" Connie asked.

"And, end of story Connie," Lynsay declared deciding she had said enough.

"C'mon girl. Don't hold back. You'll feel better," she laughed.

Oh, Connie. Why do you do this to me? Why?" she whined.

"Tell me," the older woman demanded.

Lynsay took a deep breath, and then slowly said, "When I told him I wasn't going to watch anymore, he got a look...a disappointed look."

"Uh huh...I knew it. He wants you to watch so you come home and y'all can get all hot again," she said, and then added, "I told you they're all pervs."

"Well, he's going to have to perv alone. No more for me," she declared.

Connie accepted her statement as the end of the discussion, and like the many times before, they easily transitioned to other topics. On the drive home, Lynsay contemplated the woman's message and had to agree that there was some truth in her words. It would certainly account for Mike's constant return to the subject in the bedroom.

Strangely, despite the words of wisdom from Connie, the next few months were surprisingly quiet. The older woman evidently had decided to give her space as there was no further discussion during her appointments, and her husband had backed off as well, only asking once about discussion topics during a visit. Several times, Lynsay thought about asking the older woman for an update on her lover, but each time she dismissed the idea, not wanting to reopen everything. Thus, when Connie went to it one Saturday in late summer, she was caught off-guard.

"Bo's coming over later," she let drop.

"Uhhh...ok, okay," Lynsay replied.

"I haven't seen him for a long time. He want off on a construction job because the money was so good," she explained.

"Okay," the young wife said, still a bit off kilter.

"Yeah, I have to say I missed it. I definitely got the itch," she laughed.

"Connie!" she gasped, and then after a pause, she asked, "When...uhhh...when was the last time?"

"That time you didn't show," she answered.

"Wow, Connie it has been a long time," she responded.

"I know. I'm ready I tell you. I miss that big thing," she giggled.

Lynsay recalled the man's cock and how he had gone slow with Connie before taking her to a big orgasm. It had indeed seemed large to her and Mike had been shocked when she described it.

"Does it...you know...feel that different...from a... a normal one?" Lynsay stammered, and as soon as the words were out, she was shocked she had asked the question.

"Oh, honey its night and day...night and day, but remember, I'm not all innocent like you. I've been around," she laughed.

"I'm not innocent," the young wife said defensively.

"How many men you been with?" Connie asked bluntly.

"Four," Lynsay answered, thinking it was a reasonable number.

The manicurist broke out in laughter, and said, "Oh, honey. Trust me, you're innocent. You don't want to know my number. Plus, I've had kids, so I'm not all tight down there like you."

"You're embarrassing me," she whined while squirming in the chair.

"Be still now. We're about done here," she said as she put the last coat on her customer's toenails.

"I got to say, it's never dull," Lynsay laughed when they were finished.

"I hope not! No one wants boring. Now, go hop in the other chair and will get the waxing done," Connie directed.

"Uhhh...not today," the young wife replied.

Since she hadn't said anything about skipping the service earlier, Connie suspected the reason was that she had been turned on some by their discussion and didn't want her to know. She truly thought the young woman was being silly, and she was also curios, so she decided to challenge her.

"Honey, go over there now. I don't care if you got a little wet," she said.

"Connie! Dear Lord, help me..." she declared.

"Go on now," she shooed her.

"I can't. I'm ashamed," Lynsay whined taking on a sudden vulnerable look.

"Go on now or your husband will be mad," she pushed.

"I...I... I can't believe this," she sighed as she moved into place.

Connie pulled her sundress up, stripped her of her thong and quickly began to do some minor trimming with the scissor. It only took a few minutes and Lynsay was preparing to feel the hot wax when she felt something moving along the edge of her labia.

"I need to clean you up a little," the older woman said in a soft voice, and after Lynsay took in and released a deep breath, she added in the same voice, "Honey, you come back at two and just come through here to the back. You know your husband wants you to."

There was silence between them as Connie finished the waxing, but when it was over, the young wife looked at the woman with a pained expression.

"Connie..." she began, but was interrupted.

"You think about it," she was instructed, and with that she left the salon.

Lynsay was shaking so hard that she barely made it home. She had thought she was out of the woods on the sordid sex thing, but in the course of less than thirty minutes, it had all come flying back and crushed her senses. On top of it all was her disgusting reactions to the talk that Connie had easily spotted. Her inner self had been laid bare and she had been discovered as nothing but a needy tramp with a seeping pussy.

When she pulled into the driveway, she was happy to see that Mike was out. Stopping only to drop her purse and keys on the table, she went to the kitchen, pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured a healthy glass. The liquid left the glass mostly in gulps and was quickly refilled. Only when she was halfway through this one did she begin to calm. She thought back to the small salon and wondered how the woman had known she was aroused. Was it that evident? Was it something she wore on her face that she never realized? Unable to stop herself, she glanced at the clock and saw it was now almost twelve-thirty.

Lynsay had just poured her third glass when she heard the door opening and seconds later her husband appeared.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he spotted her.

The strange look on her face, her wide eyes and the almost empty bottle of wine told him that something was going on, and since he knew she had recently been with Connie, he suspected it had to do with her visit.

"Do you want me to watch them again? Be honest," Lynsay demanded.

"Whoa honey...what's going on?" he asked as his hand took hers.

"I got asked again and I want to know what you want. Connie, says you want me to watch and I..." she fired out and then paused, but before her husband could respond, she added, "I'd like to know."

"Connie doesn't speak for me, Lynsay," he answered.

The truth was that he did want her to be in the room again. The primary reason was that it had lit something in her sexually, a charge, that lasted for months. They had enjoyed an amazing amount of awesome sex, but over time it faded. Thus, he hoped she would become re-charged by the experience. The other part was harder to understand. He found the situation raw and exciting, and the fact that his sweet wife had a front row seat, somehow made it even more arousing. He knew he should have found the whole thing disgusting, but the truth was just the opposite. That's why he pestered his wife for details, so he could be titillated second hand.

"That's not an answer," his wife said after several moments.

"Sweetheart, I don't want you to be upset, and you sure seem upset," he replied.

"Mike, that's bullshit, too. It's a yes or no question...yes or no."

"Then, my answer is no. Not if your upset," he said.

"And if I wasn't upset? Would it be yes?" she pushed.

There was a long silence that was only broken when he replied, "I guess..."

"I see..." Lynsay whispered and took another gulp from her glass.

"When is it?" Mike croaked.

"Two..." she answered.

"Honey, let's go lay down for a while," Mike suggested, thinking things were over.

"No, I'm fine," she stated and he could see her nervous look was rapidly being replaced by one of determination.

Mike poured himself some wine, killing the bottle, and stood silently stroking his wife's back wondering what was going through her mind. He was happy that she seemed to be re-gaining her self-control and he hoped she would rest after finishing her glass.

"C'mon, let's go to bed," he said when she was done.

"No, I need to get ready in a bit," she stated.

"For what?" Mike asked, truly confused.

"To go back to Connie's. I'm going to go back," she declared.

"No, Lynsay. You're upset and you've been drinking," he told her.

"I'm fine...really I'm fine," she said and gave him a forced smile.

"Lynsay, I don't think this is a good idea," he pleaded.

"Ssshhhh...it's okay. I'm fine..." she responded, and turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Mike was about to reply when his phone suddenly rang and looking at it, he saw it was his boss who only called on weekends if it was important.

"Shit...I'll be right back," he said.

The call took less than ten minutes, but when he returned, his wife had opened another bottle and had poured a fresh glass.

"Ssshhhh...don't," Lynsay said when she anticipated he was about to comment.

He was going to speak anyway when he noticed her little nipples were causing bumps in her sundress and he was left to ponder whether it was a result of nervousness or excitement.

"Look, go easy on the wine if you...if you really plan to go..." he counseled.

The young wife had consumed well over a bottle when the time came to leave. He tried once more to get her to reconsider, but she was adamant, continuing to claim she wasn't upset. Next, he told her forcefully that she was in no condition to drive, but he didn't get the response he expected.

"Drive me over then," she said.

"Lynsay..." he started.

"Okay, fine. I'll call a cab," she declared.

Mike wondered if there was even a taxi service in the small town, and decided to let her try, thinking she would fail in her attempt, get tired and pass out.

"Okay," he said.

"Never mind, I'll call Connie. She'll pick me up," she said.

"Okay, Lynsay. I give up. I think it's a bad idea in your condition, but if you're going to be pig headed, I'll take you," he said in frustration.

"Good," came her swift reply as she sipped some more.

At five minutes before the appointed time, Mike pulled into the driveway. His wife gave him a lingering look that was accompanied by a tipsy smile.

"Come if I call," she said.

"Of course, and please be careful," he said.

After a quick kiss, she left the car and made the short distance to the outer door. It was open, as expected, and she stepped over to the inner door, slowly turned the knob and slipped inside. She was easing her way towards the bedroom when Connie suddenly appeared at the far end of the hall wearing the same robe as before.

"Hey, girl. He's late as usual. Come down here for a bit," she said, and as Lynsay approached, she added, "I'm glad you came."

They entered the kitchen and the older woman went to the fridge and returned with a bottle of wine. It was more down market than Lynsay was used to, and they were drinking out of plastic cups instead of stem ware, but she was happy to have it.

"I can't believe I'm doing this?" she sighed.

"Oh, honey. Don't get all worked up. Just relax and enjoy it. Then you can go home, tell your husband what you saw and get freaky," she laughed, and after a moment she grabbed the bottle and said, "C'mon, let's go back here."

They entered another bedroom that had a sewing table set up and the older woman took a chair while Lynsay sat on the bed. They started a discussion that was amazingly free-flowing given the circumstances, but after a few minutes, during a lull, the young wife asked about the situation.

"When he is coming?" she probed.

"He called and said he was going to be thirty minutes late, which means he should be here in about ten," she explained.

"Are you...uhhh...looking forward to it?" she asked.

"Oh, honey...I'm so ready. I've been dripping like a faucet for days! I told you that it was Tucker's thing to start, but damn I got into it and boy did I miss it," she responded.