I'm a good friend.
When Cousin was going through esthetician school, she needed a model for one of her practical exams. She asked around, but because it was on a Friday afternoon, everyone else was in school or work.
I volunteered. You know, because I'm a good friend.
I should probably have asked what the practical exam was first.
But I didn't.
So I got my legs waxed. And my bikini line.
As in: left tuck, right tuck, and straight across the top.
The sides weren't so bad, but when she did the strip across the top I nearly punched a hole in the wall, and held back a high pitched scream.
My pores started bleeding.
But, a tiny piece of wax was stubborn, and decided to stay. Which was apparently unacceptable, so the strip got stuck on and pulled off again.
And again.
My survival instincts finally kicked in and my hands shot towards my boutique of leathers in a protective fashion.
My fingers did a miniature version of the macarena in an attempt to ward off the next attack from the wax strip, and I let out a whimper.
At this point, Cousin was laughing so hard she was unable to continue anyway.
She got 98% on the exam. 2% reduction for 'unprofessionalism' because she was laughing at me. To which she said, and I quote: "TOTALLY worth it!"
I was in a lot of pain, so I decided to grab a drink that night.
My jeans felt weird against my completely smooth legs, and I found out later that comfortable bed sheets are transformed into heavenly satin when you're smooth as a baby's ass. The boxer elastic rubbing against my freshly raw pubic skin felt like the worst case of crabs I ever imagined having. Every time I used the urinal, I had to pry the elastic off, which re-opened the bleeding follicles. It took about three hours of drinking before they had healed over.
So, there I was squirming on my bar stool trying to drink enough rum and coke to make it all go away, when a girl tapped me on the shoulder and asked if her and her friends could use the seats next to me.
Only one thought went through my head, "This cutie is in trouble tonight."
I noticed the ring on her hand and didn't give a shit.
I was already drunk. But not to the point I was out of it. Not 'shit-show' drunk. And now that she was here, I intended to keep it that way.
After hooking up in a cab and getting to her friend's place, as I was taking off my pants, I remembered that my legs had just been waxed.
I decided not to say anything, and just kept the momentum going.
It wasn't until we were done a couple rounds and taking a quick break before she said anything about it. I told her the whole story. And how I was such a good friend.
She told me she was bisexual, and found it sexy. Then she said, "I kind of hate body hair. You may have noticed."
I had.
She asked for my number. And told me she wanted to introduce me to her girlfriend.
Bisexuals are better in bed. I've decided.
