The premise of the checklist was simple. The grooming and the outfit requirements weren’t for the man, but for me, to make me feel more confident in the next step I was about to take and to make me feel sexy in the bedroom. Because the sexier I felt, the more enjoyable it would be for me.
At least that was the disclaimer at the bottom of the list I had been provided.
I closed my eyes and decompressed a bit from my lingerie shopping. I’d never done that before. Hell, I’d never even been in a store like that before. My heart still thundered against my chest at the thought of it. The first half hour had been spent just finding my size, because apparently lingerie sizes were different than Hanes underwear sizes. Then it was a matter of finding the right type of fabric. Some were so silky, they slipped right off my ass in front of the attendant. Some bras had holes where my nipples poked right through. I mean, what was the point if the bra didn’t cover my damn nipples?
I had exposed more to that kind attendant than I had to any person in my entire life.
Though humiliating at times, eventually I found one that fit me nicely, and it went with the outfit I had shopped for earlier. The lacy boy shorts stayed up just fine on my hips, and the matching bralette covered the little pooch I had just underneath my breasts, giving me a smoother appearance over my stomach. And the bra was supportive—a must for the dress I had purchased. The fabric was thin and the fit was flowy, which meant absolutely no support came from the dress itself.
But, man, did nice lingerie cost me a fortune.
I opened my eyes and grabbed the checklist, running over it one last time: fresh haircut and color (if needed), manicure and pedicure, shaved legs, Brazilian wax, outfit that makes you feel sexy, heels recommended but not required, lingerie that makes you feel confident.
That was the list of all the things a woman apparently needed to feel confident in the bedroom. I checked off the outfit, the heels, and the lingerie, then started my car and headed across town. It was time for my spa afternoon, and I couldn’t wait. It had been ages since I’d gotten a decent mani-pedi, and my hair really did need a nice cut. My raven hair had grown way too long. This would also be a good time to change things up a bit, get some highlights or possibly try out a new nail color. I could do anything!
It felt powerful, commanding my own virginity the way I was.
And I was doing it on my watch, in my comfort zone, with my fantasy. And if I wanted, I could still decline. This situation was a dream come true. I pulled into the parking lot of the spa and walked right in, feeling my body instantly relax.
“Welcome to Oasis Day Spa, where every day is a tropical paradise. May I have your name?”
“Ava Leary,” I said proudly.
“Well, Miss Leary, we have you down for an array of appointments. Let’s confirm them before we get you started. We have you down for a mani-pedi.”
“That’s right.”
“A leg and Brazilian wax.”
“Also right.”
“A hair appointment for a cut and possible color.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“Then a facial and back massage combination.”
“Oh, that is so right,” I said, grinning. Why couldn’t I spoil myself a little bit?
“Well, if you’ll sign these forms and check to make sure your information is correct, we’ll get you started with your waxing.”
“Wait, the waxing is first?” I asked.
“We arranged all your appointments from quickest to longest. You’ll start with your waxing, and then you’ll indulge in your mani-pedi. While your nails are drying, you’ll have your hair appointment, and then your facial-and-massage combo will be at the end.”
“But the waxing is first?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Great,” I said breathlessly.
“Wonderful! Just sign here, here, and here. Then double-check your information and we’ll get you started!”
I hadn’t known I was going to be starting with the most stressful item. I’d had my legs waxed before. It was all I did in the summertime because I always nicked myself shaving. But starting off with the Brazilian? I’d never had a Brazilian before. What if it hurt? What if they yanked off my vagina lips? What if it spoiled the entire spa day I had planned because I bled everywhere and had to go to the hospital?
“Miss Leary?”
“Yes?” I asked.
“Your wax technician is ready for you.”
Really, people, could you stop talking about wax already?
I walked into a room I’d seen a dozen times before. All waxing rooms looked the same: a plush table, soft towels, warmed wax filling the room with its scent, and a soft heat to open the pores of the skin. A woman in the corner smiled at me as I was ushered into the room. Then she took my things from my hands and set them in a chair.