Page 81 of My So-Called Perfect Life

“Ooh, this sounds like it’s going to be good.” Mercy laughs. “Let’s hear it.”

“He mentioned a slutty librarian fantasy.” I glance at Mercy. “You know, tight button-up shirt, pencil skirt, heels. Basically, how you look every day for work.”

“Fuck off.” She flips me off. “I do not look like a slutty librarian.”

“You do look like a walking pinup girl,” Amelia agrees with me.

“Keep it up, and I’ll hang up,” she snaps before looking pointedly at me. “Before helping you with your plan.”

“Touchy, touchy.” I laugh.

She glares so hard that I can feel it through the phone. “Get on with it, Dani.”

“I was thinking about playing out that fantasy.”

Amelia has a devilish smile. “I need more details. How far are you thinking about taking this?”

“What do you mean, how far am I thinking about taking this?” I ask, not following. “I mean, how much is involved in dressing up as a librarian? A tight skirt, a lacy bra sticking out of the top of my shirt, some glasses, and a bun?”

Both of them laugh like hyenas.

“Oh, Dani, you have so much to learn. This is much more than some sexy lingerie.”

I have a pit forming in the bottom of my stomach as these two start listing all these things I should do if I want to pull this off.

“Anything worth doing, is worth doing right, girl.” Mercy chuckles, and I hang my head in my hands.

* * *

“Is this really necessary?”I ask as we approach the door of the waxing center. “Ryan hasn’t complained about my maintenance before.”

“Yes,” the two co-conspirators say in unison.

“Trust us, you will thank us when Ryan jumps you harder than ever before,” Mercy vows.

I’m having serious reservations about this. Don’t get me wrong; I get my eyebrows waxed but waxing my hoo-ha hasn’t been on my to-do list. From what I’ve gathered, there’s not an in-between; it’s either horrible or easy-breezy.

Mercy and Amelia, who have both had it done, keep telling me it’s worth it, but I don’t know if I believe them as we enter the building.

I check in at the desk.

“Did you exfoliate today?” the woman at the desk asks.

When I booked the appointment, the woman I spoke with informed me, for the best results, I needed to exfoliate before the appointment, which I did. The skin down there feels kind of sore from all that scrubbing. If I’m doing this, I want the best damn results I can get. I don’t care what my sister or Mercy said; I know this is going to hurt.

“Yes.”

“Great,” she says and points to the chairs. “Have a seat, and we’ll call you back in a minute or two.”

We take a seat, and the lady’s eyes follow the three of us. Her eyes bounce between us as if she’s trying to figure out why there are three of us for one Brazilian wax.

Yes, ma’am, I need a support system to go through with this.

My leg bounces as I think,Why the hell am I about to let some woman pour hot wax on my body and then yank out all my pubic hair at once?

I must have lost my mind.

A short, middle-aged woman comes out from behind the wall framing the reception desk and smiles our way. “Danielle, we’re ready for you.”