You Will Show Me Everything Ch. 04

"Sorry, did that hurt?"

I blink, confused. Dominica is holding a strip in her fingers and I can see a pinkish patch on my skin. Her concern appears to be genuine.

"I can do smaller sections if that's easier?"

She laughs, and it's like it pops the bubble, snapping me out of my head and back to reality. I'm not a bimbo slut. I'm getting a body wax. Women do this all the time. She isn't staring at my pussy. I just need to get a grip.

"No," I reply. "I, uh, I'm just not used... I don't normally do this."

"Gotcha. You seem a little tense. Don't stress, it's all good. I remember my first time, we're all in this together, hey?"

"All of us? What?"

Dominica lathers my other shin with warm wax, pressing the paper strip down firmly. She pauses for a second and then tugs. I hiss, but it doesn't feel as bad as I'd expected. I hadn't even noticed the first one.

"Girls. The effort of looking good. I mean, I get guys as well. Some types, you know, they're more bear than human. When you start, it's like clearing a landing strip in the jungle."

She applies the next strip as she talks.

"Guy gets sent in here by his wife every six months to tidy him up. He's so hirsute I need a tea break halfway through."

"His wife?"

"Yeah, says she likes him smooth. I guess he does look a lot better by the time I'm done. But then, I would say that, right? It's how I make my living, doing the gardening. Brazilian?"

"What? As in the country?"

"No, you. I've got you down for the full wax. You going bare?"

I stare at her and then I have the presence of mind to nod.

"First time?"

"Yes."

"I can't say it's going to be painless. My first time was uncomfortable. The body isn't used to it. The follicles."

"You... you are?"

"Yep. Years now. Never looked back. Man prefers it too. Less flossing more loving, he says."

Dominica cackles, raising her eyebrows. I smile back at her too. I put the picture to the back of my mind and concentrate on the flow of Dominica's conversation, letting her do her work. By the time she's done my armpits and moves on to my crotch, I'm in control again. But, she's right. It hurts like hell. The risk of her touching my sopping pussy is dispelled with the first tug. There's nothing remotely sexy about this.

Afterwards, Dominica leaves me to get dressed. I swing my legs off the table and stand up, naked. I can't help it, I run my fingers over my newly shorn body, reveling in the exquisite sensitivity of the freshly exposed skin. The fire is there again as if it had never left, coming on stronger until it's all I can do to resist touching myself in the middle of the treatment room. I'm desperately aroused by my new body, the glistening smoothness of it, like I've been airbrushed in real life. I stare down at my puffy, pink labia, revealed at last in their full glory.

I get my phone out again and pose for the picture. This is the after-shot, and I try to pose the same as I did for the before-shot, to give him options to work with. I take half a dozen shots and then scroll through them, zooming in to check the details. There is one I like the best. I have a little, sexy smile on my face, chin raised confidently. There's something else too, and I look down my bare body again. Unencumbered by pubic hair, my swollen outer lips glisten. My entire crotch area has a pinkish sheen, like I'm polished. I reach down and part myself gently, shivering with the thrill of opening myself up. Dominica could come back in at any moment and catch me with my fingers splaying myself open in the middle of the room. She would be able to see everything. I have no way of camouflaging my arousal anymore. But, I can't help myself, I need to do it.

Opened up, I turn to face the door. If Dominica came through right now, she'd stare directly at my parted lips. I force myself to count to thirty, waiting to be discovered, and it pushes my arousal further. With ten seconds to go, I begin to tease my clit with my middle finger. This is so much worse. If she came in now, she'd catch me masturbating myself. The humiliation would be overwhelming. She'd tell everyone she knows about the bimbo slut customer at work today. I'd never be able to live it down.

I reach thirty and straighten up again. I force myself to pick up my dress, sliding my arms through the sleeves and buttoning myself up. I'm looking presentable now, but the heat is still there, it isn't going away. I feel different, my skin sensitised to the brush of the cotton dress over it, each movement reminding me that I'm completely bare now, not just free of my underwear. I pick up my bag and head back into the main area, inspecting the photo one last time. I hit send and feel a delicious jolt that goes all the way down between my legs.

"All done?" the receptionist calls out.

"Yes, thank you," I reply. "Shall I settle the bill?"

"It went through already. You're good to go."

She smiles at me and I feel relieved. My body is in such a heightened state that I just want to get through the doors and out onto the street. I need air. I need to come down.

There is another woman in the reception area, fumbling with her phone. She's about the same height as me, older, with coffee-coloured skin and black hair tied up in braids. She's wearing a dark grey v-neck jacket and pants, and when she heads towards the door I follow her. As she pulls the door open, I see her left hand and catch the glint of diamonds. She looks back over her shoulder at me and smiles knowlingly.

The eyes are the same, but the skin colour is different. The hair too, but then, the radiant sunburst headpiece is all I see because her hair is behind her head. She isn't white. I don't understand.

Out on the street, we come to a halt.

"Hi," she says at last. "Did you go okay?"

Her voice is deep, melodious, maybe Jamaican.

"You."

It's all I can say. Even getting that one word out feels like a victory.

"Yeah, me," she drawls, and then she smiles and I'm captivated. She's utterly beguiling.

"You," I repeat.

"You didn't recognise me, did you?"

I shake my head slowly.

"It's what he does. Dark skin or light, it's down to exposure. Hair back, hair forward, make-up. He's an artist."

"He's put you on the internet."

"He's put me on the internet, naked," she corrects me with another flash of that smile. "And I could put one of those pictures on a billboard opposite work and still no-one would know it's me. Though, I'd maybe have trouble getting the ad company to accept the booking."

She looks at me for a moment, sizing me up.

"Imagine that, looking out of the boardroom window at a larger-than-life picture of your own bare body. Imagine watching all the guys around the table stealing glances out the window when they think they're not being watched. Imagine all those people passing by every day, looking up at you on display."

I can't stop the feeling. She is the siren and looking at her on my phone screen for months was one thing, but in the flesh she's utterly hypnotic. When she suggests we go somewhere to continue our conversation, I can't resist.

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[Next chapter: The photographer's wife, a hotel room, and an astounding awakening.

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