One Foot Onto the Ice (19 page)

“Do
any
lesbians have hair?” whispered Susan.

“No, of course not. It’s 2013. Genital hair’s been bred out of the
lesbian species.” Jenna paused and took stock of Susan’s wide eyes. “Sorry, no,
I’m exaggerating.” She sat back down on the bed and smiled. “Lots of women have
little landing strips, or maybe, you know, those tiny little triangles.” She
paused. “Is that what you’ve got? Everyone’s different and I haven’t got a
preference. I just want to see you, Susan, and I want to hold you and kiss you
and make love to you.”

Susan coughed lightly and bent down to lift Jenna’s pink top from
the floor. “I
want
you to see me and I
want
us to do this. I want
us to do
all
of this.” She smiled. “But I need a drink first. A cold
one. And I promise I won’t stop us again, but I need a cold drink first.” She
held onto her boobs as she slid off the bed and grabbed Jenna’s sloggi bottoms
and bra. “Is there any chance you could pop down to the bar and get us some
drinks? No one’s around. Marcus is in bed and Sylvie said she was going over to
The Tavern to try and patch things up with Delphine.”

Jenna stood up and took the clothes from Susan. “You want a cold
drink?”

Susan nodded quickly.

“Okay,” smiled Jenna, kissing Susan on the lips and moving both of
their bodies towards the wall. “It would be my pleasure.”

Susan gasped as the kiss got deeper and Jenna’s naked breasts pressed
harder into her own. “I want this,” she moaned, finding it difficult to stop, “b-b-but
I need a drink first.”

Jenna pulled away and took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, quickly
throwing on her clothes. “Give me five minutes and don’t you dare go anywhere.”

Susan waited for the door to close before dashing straight into Jenna’s
bathroom. She pulled down her trousers and stared in horror at her huge thatch
of freshly washed bouncing black pubic hair. Compared to Jenna’s bald eagle it
looked like she’d got a prize winning topiary hedge growing between her legs,
or a genuine 60s afro with added hair extensions. She gasped and pressed on it
gently, watching as it sprung back into position: something that she’d been
terribly proud of only an hour ago.

Susan panicked. She’d spent a good ten minutes, when getting
ready, plucking away at the odd runaway hair on the inside of her thighs or the
base of her stomach, and had assumed that that degree of preening would be
enough.
How wrong had she been?
Susan Quinn took a deep breath and
looked down at herself once more. Her muff was plump. No, it was more than
plump. It was vivacious, and up until now she’d considered it a fairly
redeeming feature. She didn’t have a minge with long or lanky lengths of hair,
she had a muff that was fully thatched and laughing with life.

Susan caught sight of herself in Jenna’s bathroom mirror and
watched as the colour drained from her face. It
has
to go, she realised,
scanning around the small space for any signs of a sharp instrument. She
spotted Jenna’s stripy wash bag resting next to the sink and reached for the
zip, sighing with relief as she saw the electric lady shave nestled neatly in
an inside pocket. She pulled it out and switched it on, reassured by the
powerful buzzing and the tilting blades. Susan silenced the machine and yanked
off her bottom half, quickly lifting the lid of the toilet. She sat down and spread
her legs, positioning the shaver at the top of her thatch. She’d just mow it
all off, she decided, quickly flicking the switch back to life. With one swift
action Susan Quinn plunged the machine deep down into her mountain of muff. Her
scream was shrill.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” she cried as the blades ripped the hair from the
root.

“Fuckkkkkkkk!” she screamed as her muff started to matt.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooo!” she wailed as the stabbing got slower
and the churning got louder and the buzzing ground to a sudden halt.

Susan Quinn almost threw up. The pain was utterly unbearable.
Matted amongst her mound of pubic hair was Jenna’s shaving implement of choice:
a top of the range electric epilator that used forcible extraction to rid the
body of hair. Susan leaned backwards and was momentarily relieved by the cool toilet
seat pressing against her naked back. She bit her bottom lip and told herself
not to cry. She had time, she thought, moving forwards and supporting the
machine with one hand. She rose from the seat and hobbled to the sink, reaching
for the wash bag and praying she’d find some scissors. Susan gasped.
No
scissors
. She told herself to calm down and unclipped the pocket at the
front. It was tight and she struggled to push her fingers all the way in. She
patted around and discovered a loose tampon, two hair grips and a large amount
of crushed up facial power. Susan wailed in despair and leaned over the sink, knocking
the epilator out of her grasp and sending it swinging between her legs. She
yowled out in pain as her prized pubes were stretched taut, and fell to her
knees in an attempt to scoop the machine back to the safety of her bush. Susan dropped
backwards onto her bottom and was about to close her eyes in defeat when she
spotted the small manicure box on the floor next to the pipes
. It must have
fallen
, she realised, grabbing it quickly and flicking it open, praying she’d
find something sharp. Her eyes widened at the sight of the two small implements:
a pair of nail clippers and a metal nail file.

Susan pulled herself up and waddled back to the toilet. She sat
down, making sure she lowered the epilator as she went. Taking a deep breath,
Susan looked at the two tools. She opted for the sharpness of the nail clippers
first and dropped the nail file back down to the floor. She held the tangled
machine in her left hand and pulled it as taut as she could handle, gripping
the small metal clippers in her right hand and starting to snip. One singular,
rather damaged pubic hair broke free. “
Noooo,
” she gasped, trying to
repeat the action more quickly. One more broke free. Susan’s eyes widened at
the mound of muff that was still completely entangled around the blades of the
machine. Snipping would take far too long. Maybe the file would slice it off instead?
Susan dropped the nail clippers and reached for the metal file, pulling the
machine taut once more. She started to saw. Nothing happened so she pulled even
harder and thrust the file forwards and backwards at speed. Still nothing
happened. “
Noooo!
” she cried in total despair.

“All okay in there?” asked the voice.

Susan looked at the door in horror. “Yes, I’m fine, it’s…” She
dropped her head down to the mess between her legs and found herself at a total
loss for words. “It’s, I’m—”

“Can I come in?” Jenna sounded concerned.

“No, I’m in a mess, I’m…” Susan felt the tears begin to gather
behind her eyes and the lump that had formed at the back of her throat was making
it very difficult to talk. “I’m, I’m, I need…”

“What do you need?” Jenna pushed on the handle. “Something’s
wrong. I’m coming in.”

“No!” shouted Susan, trying to cover her boobs and her mangled
muff all at the same time.

Jenna glimpsed the sight and stepped back behind the door, leaving
it slightly ajar so she could talk, but at the same time save Susan’s dignity.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were on the toilet.” Jenna paused realising what
she’d just seen. “You’re naked, on the toilet? Are you okay? Why are you naked,
Susan?”

Susan didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. She’d
never been in such a jaw-droppingly embarrassing situation in her whole entire
life. What choice did she have but to sniff back a tear and admit defeat? “I’m
so sorry, Jenna. I need your help.”

Jenna burst back through the door and dropped onto her knees next
to Susan. “What’s going on? Are you ill? Are you in pain? What can I do?”

Susan looked down and slowly removed the hand that had been
covering the mound of mangled muff. “Get rid of this?”

Jenna gulped. “The grass on the field or the lawnmower that’s stuck
in the bush?”

Susan started to sob. “I didn’t know I was meant to be bald.”

“Oh, Susan, you’re not!” Jenna smiled. “Look at you, you’re so…” she
pushed lightly on the plump hair, “…bouncy.”

“Stop it.”

Jenna leaned backwards and tilted her head to the side, absorbing
the full effect. “I like it.”

“No you don’t. It’s ridiculous. Look at me.”

“I am,” smiled Jenna. “I like it, and if we can’t break the ice
now, then we never will.” Jenna stood up and pulled on the mirror above the
sink, opening it up to reveal a row of shelves stacked with further toiletries.
“Here,” she said, lifting a pair of scissors and a bikini trimmer. “You didn’t
fancy using these?”

Susan closed her eyes. “I was in such a panic that I only looked
in your wash bag.”

“And you decided you’d use my absolute bitch of an epilator to
minimise that muff?”

Susan laughed despite herself. “I thought it was a regular lady
shave and I should have asked, but I was just so embarrassed. I’m so sorry.”

“Okay, lesson one in the removal of hair.” Jenna tapped the pink
bikini trimmer against the palm of her hand. “
This
is for
that
,”
she pointed at the machine stuck in the mound of muff, “and
that
is for
here
,”
she bent down and stroked Susan’s legs, “and in there,” she nodded towards the
shower, “is a razor blade that I use under
here
,” she lifted Susan’s
shoulder and stroked her underarm skin.

“Jenna, please don’t. I’m sitting on your toilet, completely
naked, with a terrifyingly painful epilator, that I can’t for the life of me
understand why you’d own, even if it
is
just for your legs, but you do own
it and it’s wrapped around my pubes, and there’s nothing about this scenario that’s
even remotely arousing. So please stop.”

“We’ll see about that, shall we?” smiled Jenna as she dropped to
her knees and pushed herself between Susan’s legs. “I’ll need you wider,” she
smiled.

Susan lifted her head and looked to the ceiling, taking a sharp
intake of breath and trying to transport herself to another place entirely.

Jenna started to snip. “You’ve got yourself pretty churned up down
here.” She nodded and chopped away quickly. “But now you’re free.” Jenna lifted
the epilator with triumph.

Susan glanced down and looked at the machine that had clumps of
curly black hairs sprouting out from the blades. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you
another one.”

Jenna chucked it in the bathroom bin. “No. I always hated that
bugger. Right, what’s next?” She studied the muff as if she were a surgical
specialist.

“I want it all off.”

“Really?”

“Of course. That’s why I dashed in here and put myself through
this. I want you to want me, Jenna, and I know I have absolutely zero chance of
that now you’ve seen me like this—”

Jenna moved forwards and silenced her with a kiss. “
This
is
better than anything I could have imagined. Don’t you realise how comfortable
you’re going to be with me now?”

“I’m not. I’m dying here.” Susan shook her head. “Can’t you tell
by the colour of my cheeks?”

“You’re actually looking pretty pale.”

Susan gritted her teeth. “That’s probably the pain.”

“I can imagine. That thing tears each individual hair from the
root.” Jenna nodded. “You may need some cream, but not until I can assess the
wound in its entirety.”

“Stop talking like you’re a doctor.”

“Don’t spoil my fun. I’m role playing, and you, madam, may need an
internal.”

“Jenna.”

“What? Spread ‘em, I’m snipping.”

Susan closed her eyes as Jenna continued to cut away at the bulk
of the hair. “Someone kill me right now,” she muttered as the embarrassment
burned through her body.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” said Jenna laughing. “Now, would the
lady like a short back and sides?”

Susan sighed. “Doesn’t
anything
faze you?”

“Not if it’s not important, no.” Jenna tapped the scissors against
the toilet seat before dropping them to the floor and reaching for the pink
trimmer. “This is funny. We’ll laugh about this in years to come.”

Susan opened her eyes and watched as her old classmate slowly
started to shave away the remaining hair. “You think we’ll stay in contact?”

Jenna paused and looked up. “Of course we will. I think you’re
brilliant, Susan, and I want your friendship.” She smiled. “I want you in my
life.”

Susan swallowed as a lump caught in her throat. “I’ve never had a
friend like you.”

Jenna continued with the trimmer. “Everyone needs their own
personal pussy pruner.”

“Stop joking around. I need to thank you. You’re being so great
with me.”

“Only because I want to get you into bed.”

Susan frowned. “Still? After all of this?”

“Fuck yes! Look at you! Your legs are spread and I’m slowly
revealing the sweetest little—”

“Stop it!”

“I am! You’re beautiful and I’ve no idea why you were hiding this
perfect pussy under that pile of pubes. It’s the same with your clothes. You
hide yourself, Susan. You’ve got one smoking hot figure going on and you should
show it off.” Jenna handed over the trimmer. “Here, I’ll leave you alone. You
finish off the underneath bits and use my razor if you like, but then you
must
do something for me.”