“Take off your clothes and get up on the table”, she instructs me. A beautiful brown skinned 18-year old Brazilian girl with the face of a cherub and the body of Anna Kournikova. She’s been performing bikini waxes since the tender age of 13 in her native country where it is as common a practice there as it is here to visit Walmart. Her mother taught her, and her mother's mother taught her. Imagine a generational grooming and coifing technique passed down from her ancestors that they moved here to perform and get paid damn good money doing it. You Gotta Love America! I know all this because she makes small talk as she is busy working away on me. Needless to say, she is somewhat of an expert at her craft. She is so young and soft spoken yet there is something very commanding about her, powerful. It might be all the sharp instruments that she grips and employs within inches of my nether regions. First, she works on my eyebrows so I am lying there totally naked from the waist down for a good 20 minutes as she powders, waxes, aloes, and plucks my brows into a perfect shape. Not too thin, not too thick with even peaks and valleys in all the right places to accentuate my heart-shaped face.

The girl is truly an artist which is why I endure the pain and suffering she inflicts on me. The hot lamp is shining down brightly, it feels like I’m in a tanning bed it’s so hot. Indian Flute music is playing in the background and her long black curly hair with red highlights is brushing against my bare legs, tickling me. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. She is very hands-on, up close and personal. Her face only inches away from my target areas. She smells like bananas as she leans in closer to me, I think it must be her lip-gloss or bubble gum. "Okay, we ‘er done wit' your eyebrows now.” She moves down to the lower end of the table, grabs my legs and places them exactly how she wants them for optimal access, into a wide spread position. She blankets her hands in a cloaking of talc powder and rubs them all over me, prepping what is the canvas of her masterpiece. I think I might have a crush on her.

The wax is dark green and sweltering hot, it actually feels really amazing going on. There is something oddly erotic about all of this which causes the slightest bit of unrest. But, the native flutist and burning eucalyptus candles are very relaxing so I close my eyes and just go with it. I am starting to feel warm and peaceful but at the same time, I’m cringing inside anticipating how the heated wax will feel being extricated from the most delicate parts of my womanhood. She starts on the outside and works her way inward. Oh Dear God, does she have to go “Inward”? Yes, I remind myself that is why I’m here. I dread this part but am always so glad when it’s over. For those of you who haven’t experienced the “Brazilian”, it is like no pain you have ever felt before or will feel again. The good news is the pain only lasts seconds and then disappears completely. One of my girlfriends has to take a Xanax with a Martini chaser before undergoing this barbaric treatment. Not me, I wince and hunker down with each pull of the dreaded strip as she gets closer and closer to the target zone. I am okay with the outer regions; the skin isn’t so sensitive there. But I start to get panicky when I feel her begin to lift and separate the inner skin. Until I can feel the hot wax going on, overlaying the supple folds, closer and closer with her applicator directly onto what feels like.....the clitoris. Why?....Why is she applying wax there??? The last time I checked, I didn’t have a hairy clitoris!! The truth is I am not even that hairy if you must know but I like the way it feels to be hairless, it’s cleaner, more hygienic, not to mention it makes things more shall we say, sensitive. She puts a leg up on the table so she is partially straddling me. She is very thorough and really applies herself to her vocation.

With the spotlight shining down on everything the Good Lord gave me and her face just inches away from it all.....she works in circles, slabbing piping hot wax onto places that some of my most intimate of partners haven't seen in this much detail. Then covering it over with a fine strip of linen, rubbing it on with her fingers and leaving it sit there for what seems like a full 5 minutes. It starts to feel heavy....like it is becoming a part of my flesh.....making me think it will hurt like holy hell when she goes to rip it off!! But she leaves it there to seep in as she moves to an "outer" area where she starts surgically removing ingrown hairs. This actually hurts worse than the waxing. She takes razor sharp tweezers and begins prying ingrown hairs out from under my skin. I didn’t even know I had them. It feels like needles are being injected as she lectures me about the importance of daily exfoliation and the type of loofah I should use. She stops, goes back down and gets ready to rip off one of the uh, “inner” strips. There is about a 7 second delay as she pulls the skin back taught (instead of making one quick pull like you would to remove a band aid) she makes several slow motion pulls back, so I have all that time to dread what is about to happen. I am wincing before she even makes the final tear and then, “ EEEYYYOOOWWWW!! Am I bleeding!?!?!?” I squelch out at her..."It feels like I’m bleeding!" It’s even worse than I imagined, but it’s brief. Very brief. “You okay?” she asks and pat, pat, pat, she pats the pink swollen skin like a mother would pat her newborn baby’s bottom, then she blows on it to cool me off as she moves on to the next side. Methodically and rhythmically, repeating this process about 8 times in places I didn’t even think I had hair. My hands are sweating profusely and my legs are starting to cramp up after 35 minutes of this sheer torture.

“Almost finished!”, she assures me as she places a caring hand on my inner thigh and leaves it rest there a couple seconds stroking it back and forth to comfort me. “Look!” She says, as she takes a hand-mirror and proudly holds it there so I will see that the end result was worth all the pain. One eye is open and I peak through a timid squint, and then getting a glimpse of the new lesser version of me, my eyes POP to get a better view, Holy shit....it was TOTALLY worth it! This girl is the fucking Picasso of Body Waxing!! And…just as I start to feel better, “Almost done!” She chirps....What does she mean “Almost”, it looks done to me...there is nothing else left to remove!! Or so I thought...... “Flip over onto your tummy and spread your cheeks apart!” OMG…Why? Why? I don’t have any friggin’ hair there!!!! I hesitate...Please don’t make me.....She repeats, "Go on, flip over!" She is in total control and I am submissive to her. It's clear that she has to be firm with her clients during this part of the procedure. So I do as she says and flip over onto my stomach, spreading my posterior as far and wide as I can to the point of total humiliation and em-bare-ass-ment. She starts poking and proding making sure there are no strays....I am just praying for it to be over soon. And next thing I know, “Ok, You’re all done now, I hope your boyfriend likes it!” I look up at her sheepishly, feeling like we just shared something special together and a little bit sad that I have to leave now. Checking out, I add on a 25% gratuity and book my next appointment with her for the following month. I exit the salon craving a cigarette and some sushi for lunch. And I’m walking with a whole new spring in my step.