AN: I have no beta so all mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out and I'll happily fix them. Please note that all spelling is English/Australian as I am from the land of Oz. I hope you enjoy my first story…on this profile
No Laughing Matter
Hell hath no fury like a woman whose vagina burns like the fiery depths of hell. It's bleeding and broken, and, sadly, it's not from having too much of a good time either. In fact, I'm pretty sure I won't be having a good time for a long while now. Not just because I have given myself a Brazskinning (yes, it's a word now) but if anyone sees me here and finds out why, I will never be able to live this down.
It is because of the latter that I have been standing at the front of the emergency room for about twenty minutes. I may be hiding behind a bush, and I may have been talking to myself like a crazy person for the past ten minutes or so, but that is neither here nor there. What is important here, is that my lady bits are screaming at me and I can't decide if I want to get help, or avoid the embarrassment and live like this forever.
I decide its do or die. I count to three and, determinedly, walk toward the doors. They glide open – much too slowly for my 'woman on a mission' mindset to handle – and, the moment I take a step toward my salvation (and more humiliation), the cool of the air conditioning slaps me in the face.
What in the hell am I doing?
Cursing under my breath, I turn on my heels and head back to my bush of shame, but, the moment I turn around, I realise that I have caught the eye of a patient. I can only imagine that she's a patient, she has a stained dressing gown on and a hospital tag on her arm. She's leaning against a pole about ten feet away from the entrance and I have a sinking feeling that she's been watching me for a while. I stop short for a second and study her. Her facial expression tells me she's concerned about the crazy girl in the bushes, but my charade has also been rather entertaining, and she's unsure whether she should get involved.
"You alright, love? Need me to get the nurse for ya?" She blows out a cloud of nicotine smoke and I grimace as the smell hits my nostrils.
I shake my head and give her a meek "no, thanks." She stubs out her cigarette and shrugs, as though she's done her best, before walking past me, back into the emergency room. A cloud of nicotine smoke follows her in, and so do I. I decide that I am a stupid chicken shit and I don't want this thing stuck on my hoo-ha forever. It's time to face the music.
I am a victim of my own stupidity, and the incorrect advertising of home waxing kits. 'Easy salon finish at home' my hairy coot! My downstairs area has been ripped to shreds, but I have one last strip that needs to come off and I am in too much pain to do it myself. I need help, and fast.
Only it's not going to happen nearly as fast as I would like. The waiting room is fairly busy and there's a sign on the nurses' window which informs me that there is a four hour wait. I'm not so sure I can stand that long, but I sure as hell can't sit.
And sit is just what the nurse asks me to do when I get to her. I gingerly place myself on the very edge of the chair and try my best to return her smile.
"How can I help you today?"
I look at her and blink. In the midst of my inner turmoil, not once had I thought about how I was going to explain this to the nurse, in a room full of people. She's waiting for my answer and my mind is in a spin. I can't even think of words to explain my predicament.
"Can you point to where it hurts?" Her lips turn upward in a knowing smile. This lady is so smart I want to kiss her.
I raise my pointing finger and turn it upside down.
"Waxing." It's all I can manage to get out.
I watch her physically cringe, and I just know that her clam has closed itself tightly in horror. I give her my personal details and as much information as I can with a minimal amount of words. Then I waddle my way to a corner of the room, where I stand for two and a half hours, before I am called in.
I am thankful, but nervous. I follow a plump, grandmotherly type nurse through the large double doors, and we both walk slowly down the hall. Me because my flaps are glued together and I am in some serious pain, and her because she's reading my file.
"Oh, dear…" She slows, almost to a stop, and I can only hum in response. She catches herself and rushes ahead a little, but not before I can see the amused smile on her face.
Once I am put in a curtained off room, she excuses herself rather quickly. I don't blame her. If I were her, I would have got the giggles long before now.
After I've put the hospital gown on, as requested, I settle onto the bed as best as I can, and just hope that she gets all her laughter out real soon, so she can help me get this thing off.
It is another half hour, at least, before I see her again. She has composed herself and is very gentle when I let her look down there. That is until she tries to pull off the strip that's left behind. I find myself feeling stupid and helpless. Tears begin to stream down my face and she stops to comfort me.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm going to be able to do it without some help. You also have a few grazes down there and that's why you're feeling that burning sensation. I tell you what, I'll go get you some pain relief, and then we'll try again when it settles in. Okay, sweetie?"
I manage a nod and she hands me some tissues with a smile, before bustling out of the room. She is back five minutes later with what she says are very strong pain killers, before leaving me alone again.
I don't know how long I'm left for this time. Time seems to disappear quickly when you're surrounded by bright lights and the noises of a busy hospital. The painkillers have made me so relaxed that I jump when the curtain opens again, and my heart simultaneously skips a beat and sinks when I see who walks into my cubicle. It's a doctor. A male doctor. A hot, young, male doctor.
Fuck. My. Life.
"Hello, Isabella, my name's Doctor Cullen, I'm one of the emergency room registrars on today. How are the painkillers going? Feeling better?"
I am rendered speechless. This guy is no more than a couple of years older than me, and he is about to look at my downstairs area. He's acting like it's just another day in the office. Well, maybe it is just another day for him. Besides, he sees hundreds of faces every day. I'm just another face, right? He'll forget me before I even walk out the door. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing at all. I take a calming breath in.
"Um, good … yep, good."
He smiles and starts to put on a pair of latex gloves. I can't help but notice that he chooses them from a box that says extra-large.
Who the fuck am I kidding? This is the single most embarrassing day of my life. I want to bury my head in the pillow and scream.
"… it looks like a fair amount of grazing down there, so she just wanted to be sure, and there …" He's talking but his voice is background noise to the screaming in my head. I watch his perfect lips move and nod my head in agreement, all the while my mind is telling me to abort the mission and run for my life.
Yet, the moment he touches the inside of my knees, my legs automatically open for him. He coerces me to open them wider and I oblige. I jump slightly when he touches the inside of my upper thigh and he holds onto both my thighs firmly while apologising. I can't breathe. His hands are warm, his fingers long, and his breath manipulates my skin; bringing out goose pimples from the tips of my toes to my hair follicles.
I am a straight up hussy. My vagina is weeping in agony and all I can think about is how good his hands feel on me. I'm going to hell.
It feel like minutes, but I'm sure it's only seconds later, that I feel him gently touch my outer lips. He murmurs something at the same moment I suck in air sharply through gritted teeth. I raise myself quickly onto my elbows and our eyes meet. This is now officially the most awkward moment of my life.
"It's nothing that a bit of cream and rest won't fix, but we have to get this other one off first," he says in a calm tone. Too calm.
I can do nothing but nod.
"Want me to get the nurse in to do it? She might be a bit more –"
I cut him off with a shake of my head. "No. Just, please, get this over and done with."
I don't know what I'm thinking. I'm about to have a hot as fuck doctor rip a strip of wax from my grazed and swollen 'gina. I must be crazy.
I put my legs in the position he recommends and then throw myself back onto the bed. I brace myself by holding onto the bed above me. I can feel him looking at me, but I don't dare look down.
"Ready?" he says.
I nod silently, knowing that he is still watching me. One hand rests gently over my whole privates and I feel a tingle in my clit. I am horrified that my body is reacting the way it is when I'm in such a ridiculously dire situation. His other hand grips firmly onto the wax strip and I grit my teeth in anticipation.
"Okay, one –"
RIP!
I wait for the count of three, but realise it's already done. My reaction is delayed, but loud enough that the patient on the other side of the curtain asks if I'm okay. Although the pain is subsiding, and my screaming has stopped, I can't answer him. Dr Sexy MD still has his hand on my sore spot. Despite the fact that this is to ease the agony he just caused, I can't help but revel in the feel of it.
My eyes are clenched shut when he asks if I'm okay. He squeezes my leg gently with his other hand and holds it there. I open my eyes warily and look down at him. I nod and hum, and he smiles at me.
It's a different smile now, more playful; personal. I smile back and then throw my head back into the bed with a groan. He chuckles and pats my leg.
"The worst is over," he says gently, while placing my legs back together. He puts my gown down and grabs the strip, showing it to me momentarily, before throwing it in the bin. "I'll leave you to get dressed, and I'll be back with a prescription."
Minutes later I am fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed when he returns with a prescription and an envelope.
"The prescription is for a cream, just apply it as often as needed. The letter is for your employer, I figured you might want a couple of days off work to … you know … rest. Don't worry, it doesn't say what, um, happened, just that you might need time off."
I laugh awkwardly and he gives me another playful smile. I take the papers from his hand and thank him.
"I can go now?" I ask, hopeful.
"You can go now." He nods.
I thank him again and walk out of there so fast, I don't care that it irritates my sore spot. I am forever grateful that I don't ever have to see him again.
TWO WEEKS LATER
While I'm still tender down there, I'm no longer having to ice it every day. All of my friends and work colleagues are none the wiser of the most embarrassing day of my life. I am pretty impressed with myself for having escaped utter mortification. Not a single soul knows.
Well, besides the doctor, who has to abide by some kind of patient/doctor confidentiality clause … I hope. Plus I'll never see the guy again, because I have learned my lesson; I am never waxing at home again. From now on, it's professionals only. And that's what I've decided to do today. See a professional; this time, for my eyebrows.
At the same moment I reach the door to the salon, someone is walking out and I literally bump into their chest. A flurry or apologies are shared between us, and I move to let them pass, but instead they stop.
"Isabella?"
I look up and meet the beautiful green eyes of none other, but Dr Sexy MD, AKA Dr Cullen, hooch holder extraordinaire. I can feel my eyes widen like saucers.
His furrowed, neatly shaped, eyebrows make me pause, before I correct him.
"It's just Bella."
Instead of responding, he pulls me aside gently and I shiver slightly at the feel of his hand on my arm. Memories come flooding back of where those hands have been and I feel my skin begin to flush, as a wave of humiliation heats it up.
"Are you sure you should be … you know … so soon?" He nods downward and looks at me with such concern it makes me forget all about my mortification.
I smile at him and shake my head. "I'm not … for that. I promise. I have a while before any wax will be going there again." Heat flushes my face anew. I can't believe I'm talking about this with a stranger. A gorgeous one at that.
"Oh, good … that's good."
An awkward pause follows. He's still holding my arm, though now his hand has slid down and it is clasped gently around my wrist. He's leaning in slightly and I find myself looking straight up to meet his eyes. A question comes to mind and my mouth blurts it out before the rest of my brain can prevent me.
"Dr Cullen? What were you doing in there?"
He pulls back now and I miss his close proximity almost instantly.
"Sorry, that's none of my business. Sorry," I mumble once more.
"No. No. That's okay." He straightens up and glances around us momentarily, before looking back at me. A half smile. That playful smile. "And it's Edward, by the way. Just Edward."
I nod and wait for him to continue. He looks uncomfortable, but I decide I'm not wavering. This guy saw me in my most vulnerable moment. A little bit of revenge would be kind of sweet, even if he was just doing his job.
"Well, I … you know." He looks down toward his feet and tilts his head to the side to emphasize. I am a little stumped, but then it hits me.
"Oh my God!" I yell louder than I had anticipated. I glance around us and move in closer. "I mean … um, wow. Okay."
He smiles, albeit awkwardly. "Yeah. So now we're even."
"Even? I hardly think we're even. Maybe if I did it for you –" I bite my lips and smile. I cannot believe that just came out of my mouth and neither can he.
We stare at each other in disbelief, and our laughter builds up slowly, but before long we are both in hysterics. I apologise, but he shakes his head. We stop laughing and gaze at each other for a moment.
The air has changed around us. It's no longer an awkward moment between two strangers. It is now one of two people with a mutual attraction.
His hand slides from my wrist down to my hand, but just our fingers touch. "I better let you get to your appointment."
I nod in agreement and try not to melt into a puddle on the pavement from his touch. "Yeah, I should."
"Be safe."
"Don't worry, I have no plans to end up back in hospital any time soon," I assure him.
We smile at each other once more and say goodbye. I turn and walk back toward the salon, but his fingers grab mine tighter and he gently pulls me back.
"Bella?"
I turn back to him in surprise.
"Would you like to go out to dinner some time? I mean is that … would that be okay?"
He looks so nervous and I'm happy for a moment to know that he's just as human as I am.
"Well you have seen my vagina, so I guess dinner would be the next step," I joke.
His face turns a rosy shade of red and I can't help but laugh.
After we swap numbers and he promises topick me up that Friday at seven, I float into the salon with a stupid smile on my face.