The Story Behind the Waxing

There are many reasons one has to get waxed. And I am talking about any form of waxing, whether it be for the pleasure of the pain or merely the fabulous end results...

It had been several months since my last waxing. I tend to go to people that I trust really know what they are doing when it comes to my pussy. So, moving to NYC posed a challenge. The last place I went was akward and uncomfortable for both of us. I sent a friend there due to its convenient locality and price, but she said the same thing. Now I really couldn't go back. Being waxed doesn't have to be a transcendental experience, although it has been with some people, I really am just looking for a professional that knows hair removal. (I am of the almost hairless variety, so this is much more of a pleasure and treat than it is a necessity of life.)

Today I found Max Wax. All they do is waxing and it is two blocks up from my Bikram yoga studio. I couldn't say it was existential, but here is how it went:

Wearing a jersey black skirt and a black T from KEXP radio station, I sauntered into the waxing studio. I was taken into a private room almost immediately. The woman who was about to wax me started putting on latex gloves, snapping them as she pulled them down. I think she is Swedish. She stands there and waits for me to disrobe. I like this imposition on my personal space. It is nice that the "niceties" of waiting outside the room have been left out. Quickly I pull off my black lace thong and jersey skirt in one fell swoop.

Hopping up onto the table I feel a twinge of OB/GYN coming on. There are no soft blankets or warmed cushions. It is a parchment sterile sheet pulled over the table, waiting for my placement.

However, those thoughts quickly dissipate as the hot wax is placed on the crevasse of my inner thigh and pussy. She lays down the first piece of fine cotton canvas and rips. Ahhhh...fuck! I hadn't remembered the pain. Crap! She is so fast! More hot wax, I start to breathe through my chakras. Over a period of two deep and long breaths and two more strips, I found my pleasure. Yes, this is what I was looking for. The technician moved down from the outside top to the inside bottom. As she reached the inner labia I was in ecstasy. The tearing of the canvas off of my pussy was akin to being pounded by my lover.

Then she had me tuck my legs up to my chest. I knew what was coming next. This part is most enjoyable as there are fewer nerve cells by the anus than the clitoris. Plus, by this time, my endorphins are raging and the only pain I feel is pleasure. In a few deft movements she is done and lubing me up. My legs drop over the table is exhaustion and completion.

On the way home I stop and have a gin and ginger ale. This act and drink are both rarities, but I felt like I needed something to bring me down from my visceral endorphin high. Walking back and very relaxed from this experience to go and meet the chair of my department, I saw up ahead of me, my very hot friend from A Moment Captured speaking with two other people on the street. Instinctively I ran my finger across his smooth back as I passed behind him. I could hear his voice change as he turned his head in mid sentence to look as I waived behind me. Suddenly I could feel every move of every joint in my body. I could feel the curves of my ass and hips as my feet landed and the sway of my skirt from my hips. My smile must have spanned the Brooklyn bridge. I meet him again for lunch tomorrow, you know...