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Just sit still for a few minuteswhile I finish drying," she said."Why does that matter?" I asked."Because she doesn't want to ruin her nails while she's waxing you,silly," said Diane, who had overheard the conversation while ushering inanother client. "Here, do you mind waiting out front for a couple ofminutes? Marcia's one o'clock is here." You work here?" I asked Liz."Yep. You thought I was just a customer? I went to esthetician school,and I do all the waxing here," she said. "You just relax a minute whileI dry and set up the waxing room."I strolled out to the front and was about to sit down when Diane said,"Oh, Cara, your color is all gone off your lips. You might want tofreshen them. We have some long-wear liquids. Would you like me to showyou some colors?" Not now, thanks. Maybe later," I said.Liz appeared at the door. "Cara sweetie, I've got the room all set upfor your Brazilian. You know where the room is? Last on the right side.Just go on back there, strip completely and lie. “Weather bureau,” he smiled. “Home page of surfers the world over.” Rupali took her board. “Is this one special?” “Not so much. I use it on rocks and reefs,” Spike said. “Oh,” Rupali looked deflated, realising she’d been handed the surfboard equivalent of a Volkswagon Beetle. “Oh, I almost forgot...” she quickly turned and dashed back to her beach bag, rooted around in the bottom and brought out a black velvet pouch concealing a large, ominous shape that could have been a socket wrench… or a maybe an Xbox controller… but probably wasn’t either. “Pop this in your bag for me, will you, Spike?” “What is it?” we asked in unison, Spike with curiosity, me with incredulity; if I knew Rupali then it had to be some kind of sex toy, but I didn’t recognise it – obviously a new purchase and one that she hadn’t let me in on. “Lipstick,” she smiled. “Touché,” muttered Spike as he knelt down to pack away Rupali’s mystery prize and attach the surfboard’s strap to her ankle. Tease that she is, she.
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