Troubles and Treats (18 page)

This is beyond embarrassing.  I really did not expect that the waxing of my bits included
someone getting this intimate with me.

“What if I’m like, moist, down there?  Will the wax even stick?”

Liz makes a gagging sound at this point and gives me a dirty look.  “Seriously. 
Folds
and now
moist
?  Cut that shit out or I’m going to puke all over this floor.”

The door opens before I can ask any more questions and a short, cute, bubbly blonde
walks in and introduces herself.

“Hi!  My name is Stephanie and I’ll be taking care of your waxing needs today,” she
says as she walks over to the waxing station next to the table and stirs the already
melted wax in the warming pot and begins setting out all of the waxing strips and
the wooden sticks she’ll use to torture me to death.

“Have you ever had a Brazilian before?” she asks as she turns around and helps me
lay down on the table.

“No, I usually just shave, but it’s been a while” I tell her as she rolls the work
station on wheels closer to the table so she can reach it better.

“Careful, you might poke an eye out or something when you get a look in there.  Prepare
yourself,” Liz jokes from her chair over against the wall.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s not as bad as some of the women I’ve seen come in here,”
she reassures me with a smile as she parts my towel to get a look at what she’s working
with.

“Oh my,” she says softly and then quickly steps away.  “Well, um.  Wow.  Okay, I think
I’m going to need more waxing strips.  And maybe more wax,” Stephanie says as she
moves away from the table to grab extra supplies out of the cabinet against the wall.

Liz is full on laughing and snorting at this point, and I lift up my hand and give
her the finger without raising my head from the table.

Stephanie comes back moments later and adds the extra supplies to the table.  She
dips one of the wooden sticks into the wax and holds her hand under it to catch any
excess dripping, then she
spreads it out all over my SUPA
–
skinny
upper pussy area.

It’s warm and soothing when she spreads it around and I kind of like it.

Who knew this would actually be enjoyab-

“AAAAAHHH MY VAGINA!” I scream suddenly at the top of my lungs, my hands flying down
to cover myself and press down on the area that burns like it’s on fire to try and
alleviate some of the pain.

“OH MY GOD DID YOU PULL MY CLIT OFF?!” I yell at Stephanie in horror as she stands
there holding the cloth strip that’s full of hair and quite possibly my pleasure button.

“Sorry, I should have probably warned you I was going to do that but I find it’s best
not to warn someone for the first one because they’ll just tense up and it will hurt
worse,” Stephanie explains with a happy smile as she turns and picks up another wax
strip and dips the wooden stick into the hot wax.

“The first one is always the worst.  Suck it up, bitch,” Liz tells me from her chair.

The next half hour doesn’t go by quickly at all, and several times I have to stop
myself from smacking Stephanie in her face.  Liz must have sensed my desire to choke
the poor woman and came up to the table to hold my arms down.  Luckily, Stephanie
redeemed herself by telling us horror stories about other women she’s waxed: women
getting their monthly visitor right in the middle of waxing or women having orgasms
during the event.  That right there boogers my mind but then I remember how much Drew
liked it when I had to rip the pieces of tree bark off of his ass during “The Great
Honey Adventure”.

One thing I can say about this whole thing is my ass has never looked better.  When
she had me up on all fours so she could get down in that area, she got a mirror for
me. Let me just say, it’s so smooth I kind of want to pet my own asshole.  Liz keeps
asking me if I want some alone time so I can finger my ass, and I think she's  joking
so I give Stephanie’s mirror back to her before I get carried away.

The only good part about this day is that I don’t feel so self-conscious about myself
anymore.  Maybe this whole time I haven’t really been worried about left-over baby
fat; I’ve been worried about my vagina being too furry.  I really do feel a whole
lot sexier knowing what’s going on down there in my underwear right now.  Once Stephanie
could actually see my vagina, she had told me it was very nice.  And since she’s seen
a lot of vaginas in her line of work, I trust her judgment.

I’m a little more confident now about talking to Drew as well and telling him what
I need.  Weird how a hairless vagina can do that for you.  I’m pretty excited to finally
be honest with Drew and take my new vagina out for a spin.  I wish it wasn’t frowned
upon to go without pants in public.

“So how good looking are we talking here?  Like Chace Crawford hot or Penn Badgley
hot?” Carter asks me while we’re packing up our work bags and getting ready to clock
out for the night.

Of course I tell my boys everything about the fucking home wrecker that moved in across
the street.  They know he’s trying to move in on my territory and take over as hottest
guy on the block.  Oh, hell no!  That position has been mine for four years.  Plus,
I don’t like the way he looked at Jenny the other night.  And she had made him cookies. 
COOKIES!  She only makes cookies for me.  Just like I’m the only one who ever surprises
her with little candy treats.  Well, I used to do that.  I guess I’ve kind of forgot
lately.

“Who the fuck are Chace Penn and Crawford Badgley?” Jim asks as he walks with us towards
the exit doors of the automotive plant.

“It’s Chace
Crawford
and
Penn
Badgley.  The two leading actors on
Gossip Girl
,” I tell him.  “It’s like you’ve never even picked up an US Weekly.  Live a little,
Jim.”

We head out to the parking lot and make our way to our cars.  I can’t get the picture
of Fuckson out of my head and the way he was so casually friendly with my wife.

“Oh, Jenny!  Thank you so much for the cookies.  I can’t wait to eat your scrumptious
cookies and then fuck you in the living room on a pile of cookies while your husband
is at work,” I say in a high pitched voice.

“Does he really sound like that?  Because I gotta say, if he does, you have nothing
to worry about,” Carter tells me as we wave to a few other guys heading out to their
cars.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly like that.  It was more like, ‘Mmmm, me like cookies.  Me
eat cookies all gone,” I say in a deep, voice.

“So easy a caveman can do it,” Jim says with a laugh.

“This is no laughing matter, Jim.  I know I made a huge mistake when I had my dad
trail Jenny because I thought she was hiding something from me a few weeks ago. and
I’m still in the doghouse for it, but what if she’s decided to get back at me by
actually
hiding something?”

In all honesty, I really don’t think the stuff going on with us lately is that serious,
even though I went along with the therapy and the disastrous dinner with the neighbors. 
I kind of just do it to humor Jenny.  If she thinks something needs to be fixed, then
who am I to tell her it doesn’t?  I figure she will just eventually bounce back to
the Jenny I know and love.  The crazy, nympho Jenny who likes to test out Ben Wa balls
in a sex toy store and who lets me put a remote control vibrator on her during our
wedding ceremony.

“Do you, Jenny, take Drew to be your-”

“OH MY GOD!  OH YES, YES, YES!  OH JESUS YES!”

“Well, alright then.  I think that means I can now pronounce you husband and-”

“KEEP GOING!  OH GOD DON’T STOP!”

“Um, wife?  Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”

“Suddenly, after becoming buddy-buddy with Shirtless McFucker Face, she wants vanilla
sex.  She wants to just…do it.  No bells and whistles, no live animals, no power strips
for electrical safety precautions, and no elbow pads or helmets.  I don’t understand,”
I complain to the guys as we get to Jim’s car first and we all stop next to it.  “She
ruined me for vanilla sex.  She ruined me and it was the best way to be ruined ever. 
And now she just expects me to go back to missionary position only with the lights
off?”

Jim opens his car door and throws his bag in the backseat.

“Elbow pads and a helmet?” Carter asks.

“Oh man, best day ever.  We went to a skateboard park and did it sliding down the
ramp,” I tell him.  “We had to keep stopping, getting up, and going to the top so
we could slip back down again so it took a while, but it was still magical.”

Man, those were the days.

“Before we make any snap judgments, I think we need to meet this Jackson guy,” Jim
explains.

“It’s Fuckson.  Get it right,” I tell him sternly.

“Fine,
Fuckson.
  I want to meet him and see for myself if he poses a threat.”

Jenny volunteered to coach Veronica’s peewee soccer team and they have their first
game tomorrow afternoon.  She must really be bored with work and the kids to sign
up for something like that.  Maybe that’s why she’s been so different lately.  She’s
bored and doesn’t have enough to do.  Too bad she doesn’t know a thing about soccer,
so I don’t think coaching is going to be as life fulfilling as she might think.

Veronica had told me she asked Fuckson if he would come watch her game and he said
yes.

Fucking crapbag.

Of course
she
doesn’t call him Fuckson.  She calls him her best friend ever.  Well you know who
my best friends are?  My two fists.  And they’re eager to meet Shit on a Stick’s face. 
Booyah!

The guys are already planning on coming to Veronica’s game, so I let them know they
will get their chance to form an opinion the following afternoon.  As we say our good-byes
and pull out of the parking lot, I'm actually excited about this.  My boys will meet
this tool and realize what a loser he is and then we can all warn Jenny together. 
Like an intervention.  A Fuck Face intervention.  She’ll thank me by getting naked
and our lives will go back to the way they should be.

~

“No!  Wrong way, Alex!  The touchdown is that way!” Jenny screams, pointing to the
opposite end of the field where little Alex is currently running with the soccer ball.

“It’s a GOAL, Jenny.  A GOAL!  Touchdown is in football,” I tell her quickly as we
both start yelling from the sidelines for Alex to turn around.

“Oh my God, this soccer thing is hard.  Why are there so many rules for three and
four year olds?” Jenny complains as she pulls one of the kids out of the game for
a break and gets Veronica ready to take her place.

“Hey, Drew.  I need to tell you something,” Jenny says as she hands Veronica her water
bottle.

Oh shit, she’s going to tell me she’s leaving me.  This can’t happen!

“Nope, no talking.  This is a serious game.  Pay attention.”

Jenny rolls her eyes at me and squats down to talk to Veronica.

“Okay, honey, remember, don’t take the ball away from your teammates.  And if you
get the ball, spike it all the way down the track,” Jenny explains to a confused Veronica.

“Or, you could
kick it
down the
field
,” I confirm for Veronica.

“Soccer sucks,” Veronica complains, folding her arms in front of her and refusing
to move.

“I know, soccer totally sucks and it will probably make you gay.  But there’s not
much else to pick from when you’re three.  Suck it up and go make me a goal!” I tell
her as I grab her shoulders, turn her around to face the field and give her a little
shove.

“Okay, seriously.  You and I need to talk.  I have something I need-”

The ref blows the whistle right next to Jenny for the kickoff, and she stops in the
middle of her sentence to wince.  There’s a flurry of kids all racing for the ball,
hitting and shoving and pulling hair to get to it.  They don’t care what team they’re
playing for; the just want the ball.  It’s soccer anarchy.

“NO, JUSTIN!  WE DON’T BITE IN SOCCER!” Jenny yells to one of the kids.

“Get the ball, Veronica!  Take that ball away and pitch it past the catcher!”

“You are majorly screwing up your sports talk.  Pitch and catcher are for baseball,”
I explain to her as the crowd erupts in cheers when someone makes a goal.  No clue
who made it or what team just got the point because all these little
bastards
look the same.

“But we get two points for a basket, right?” she asks as the kids come in for a water
break.

“No, you get one point for a
goal
.  Basket is in basketball.”

“But you told the kids earlier to dribble the ball down the field.  I KNOW dribbling
is basketball,” she argues.

“Dribbling is basketball
and
soccer.”

“Who stops someone from dribbling in basketball?” she asks.

“Defense.”

“Then who stops them from dribbling a ball in soccer?”

“The defender,” I tell her, wondering if this is going to turn into the worst “Who’s
on First” moment in history.

“Whatever, as long as they don’t kill each other, I don’t care.  Anyway, we really
need to talk about  something important and-”

“Shhhhhhhhh!” I tell her, putting my finger against her lips.  “Game.  We play.  No
talk.”

Fuck!  I sound like a God dammed Neanderthal but I can’t help it.  Whatever important
thing she needs to tell me is probably going to be that she’s decided she wants a
younger penis that likes to eat vanilla.

Luckily, something shiny distracts her.  Unfortunately, that shiny thing is Fuckson,
Mr. Vanilla himself.

Not to be confused with Vanilla Ice, obviously.  If Mr. Ice walked over here right
now, I would freak the fuck out!  Best rapper since Milli Vanilli.  You can’t blame
it on the rain without first stopping, collaborating, and then listening.  Genius.

He saunters (yes, I said saunters, shut it) over to us and hey, look at that.  He’s
wearing a fucking shirt for once.

“Jackson!  You made it,” she says with a smile as she gives crap hole a quick hug
before ushering the team back out on the field.

“OH MY GOSH YAAAAY!  I’m so excited you’re here!” I squeal in sarcastic delight, clapping
my hands together and jumping up and down.

Jenny gives me a dirty look before turning away to face Vaginal Itch Vanilla.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!  You’re doing a great job coaching.  Drew, you
didn’t play soccer in school, did you?” shit dick asks.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?  I’m not good enough to play soccer?  He doesn’t
think I know how to play sports?  Did this shit on a shingle just insult me?

“What, you don’t think I would totally kick ass at soccer?” I ask him, trying to rein
in my anger before I’m kicked out of a peewee soccer game for bloodying someone’s
face.

“Oh, no!  I didn’t mean that at all!  I just meant, with your size, I’m betting you
played football or rugby.  Some full contact sport where you could really kick ass
and not just run around the field.  You seem like you could play a mean game of football.”

He’s right.  I CAN play a mean game of football.

“I was a total loser in school and didn’t play any sports.  You must have been like
the coolest guy in school.  I can tell just by looking at you that everyone liked
you.  We’re you homecoming king or anything?” he asks curiously.

“Actually, yeah.  I was homecoming king AND prom king.  It was the first time in the
history of the school that it happened.  You should have seen how loud everyone cheered
when they called my name.  Dude, it was fucking amazing.”

What the fuck am I doing?  I just called him 'dude'!  And I’m sharing a memory with
him.  I don’t like this guy.  I hate this guy.  Do NOT be nice to him.

“Oh man, I wish I could have seen that!  I bet you won everything,” he says.  He stares
at me for a few minutes, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable when the next thing
pops out of his mouth.

“Wait, Drew Parritt?  Holy shit, I knew that name sounded familiar!  You were
first team
, all-
state
during all four years of high school and got a scholarship but blew your knee out
senior year.  Oh my God!  You’re a fucking legend!”

He knows me!  He’s heard of me!  I am a fucking legend!

“Shit, man!  That last game of the season sucked major ass.  I could have worked harder
with the physical therapy and possibly been back on the field sophomore year of college
but I was too busy with the ladies at that point,” I say with a laugh, quickly cutting
it off and dropping my smile when I remember who the hell I’m talking to – Public
Enemy Number One!

“Man, do you still have all of your trophies and awards and shit?  I would love to
see all of them,” he gushes.

Noooo, the force is strong!  Resist!  Resist!

“Yes!  I have them all in the basement on a dinky shelf.  I really want to build some
kind of cabinet for them but I’m not good with that stuff.”

Fuck!  What the fuck am I doing?  Stop talking to him. He’s my arch nemesis!

“Hey, I can totally build that for you.  I went to school for carpentry actually and
my teachers all said I had great natural talent.  I build stuff for everyone in the
family, and I’m trying to start my own business.  I could come over later and you
could show me your trophies, and I can get an idea on how big of a cabinet you’ll
need,” he says excitedly.