Chapter Eight- Brazilian

I hummed a tune to myself as I scanned in the delivery of manga we’d received that morning. After the strange lunch tensions Aria and I had walked out of school together, pausing in the shadow of a nearby building to snuggle and kiss before I made my way to work. I was both looking forward to the next day and terrified. Would we find time to be alone? If we did, what would that mean?

Would we…have sex? I’d searched online and imagined it many times while masturbating but the thought of actually doing it, actually touching Aria, and being touched in ways I never had both thrilled and frightened me. I probably wouldn’t be that skilled, but what if I was really awful? What if I couldn’t touch her the way she wanted? What if I couldn’t give her an orgasm? She’d had a girlfriend in California. What if they’d done that sort of thing and she was much better than I was?

What if she didn’t find me attractive when I was naked? What if, contrary to all I’d seen using the mirror, I had a weird vagina? My left nipple seemed to be slightly off center, maybe half a millimeter and I was relatively sure my right breast was slightly smaller than the left. My belly button wasn’t that deep. Was that ok?

I’d never really paid much attention to my body before. I mean, outside of masturbating. Now I found my thoughts traveling over every inch of me, picking out the flaws and amplifying them. She’d said that I had a great butt with good volume but what if in the past month and a half I’d gotten too much volume? I hadn’t been able to work out the way I normally did since I broke my hand so what if my butt had gotten flabby in the meantime?

I’d tried to inspect my butt, however doing so had proven tricky. The mirrors didn’t seem to want to cooperate, and, in the end, the whole view seemed kind of wavy and off, so I’d taken a picture instead. It seemed fine. I mean, for a butt. I did have a freckle on my right cheek. At least it was probably a freckle. What if it was a mole? I fought down the urge to take out my phone and peer at the photo of my own ass. What was even the difference between them? I honestly had no idea. The mark was by itself, a small spot slightly down and to the right of the center of my cheek. Would it be distracting? Would it be gross? I bit my lip and forced my attention back to the task at hand. That proved effective for about eight seconds before my mind began to wander once more to the myriad flaws in my body I’d never noticed.

“You seem to be in a better mood today,” Komari said from her spot behind the desk, nose buried in a magazine boldly declaring it knew the answer to “Why she doesn’t love you anymore.”

“I’m the same,” I lied, thinking about my treacherous left nipple. Was it also bigger than my right?

“You shouldn’t lie to your employer. I can have you flogged for impudence. Besides, I can tell you and your friend made up,” Komari chastised me.

“You cannot have me flogged for anything, and I can tell you just used air quotes,” I was focused so hard on trying not to focus on my body I was giving myself a headache.

“I’m a citizen,” Komari sniffed. “I have rights. And I can exercise those rights to make air quotes at a time and place of my choosing. So, was it all a misunderstanding?”

“It was… more than it was,” I shrugged, fighting down the temptation to say it was none of her business. I had kind of involved her when I talked about my fears, so I supposed in a way the situation kind of was her business.

“Ehhhh,” Komari seemed disappointed. “Typical.” She shook her head in disappointment and returned to her magazine. I bit my lip in consternation before clearing my throat. Was I really going to ask? I mean, would asking make me look stupid? Probably. Still, I did kind of want to know.

“Can I…uh…can I ask you something?” I finally relented to my fears.

“No, I won’t go out with you,” Komari shook her head. “You’re too young for me. I’d go to jail. You’re cute and all but I won’t go to jail for you or anyone.”

“What?”

“What?” Komari glanced up at me and blinked.

“I wasn’t going to ask if you’d go out with me,” I gaped at her. “Why would you…never mind.”

“Ok,” Komari returned to her magazine, leaving me fuming. I angrily returned to scanning the individual manga, only the sound of beeping echoing through the store breaking the stifling stillness. The minutes dragged on before I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you think I have a good butt?” I finally asked. Komari peered up from her magazine, eyes boring into mine.

“Hah?”

“D-Do I have a nice butt?” I stared down, aware my face was growing redder by the second, and failed to see my butt at all. Kim Kardashian I most certainly was not.

“Hmmm,” Komari put her hand on her chin. “Turn around.” I haltingly obliged, conscious of her eyes on me. “Now bend over.” My blush deepened further as I did. “Now shake that ass! Twerk for me!”

“W-What?!?” I exclaimed, standing abruptly and nearly dropping my scanner.

“You have no sense of humor. I’m sure your butt’s fine. A little scrawny but that’s just a by-product of your age. I mean, it’s not hairy like a sasquatch or something, right?”

“No! What are you talking about? Why would my butt be hai- “Suddenly my eyes flew wide open in shock, realization dawning on me. “Oh, my god. I have pubic hair!”

I was going to be naked. Emi was going to be naked. I’d managed to avoid the issue in Hiroshima thanks to the towels we had to wear but there would be no salvation this time. She’d already assaulted me once and shoved her vagina in my face to show off her sparse pubic hair. There was absolutely no way I could explain having an ample covering of pubic hair grow in the space of less than two months. I threw my head back silently and grabbed my hair with my free hand in frustration. Why had I lied? Why had I told her I didn’t have pubic hair? What do I do? An idea sprang into my head and my eyes found Komari.

“What the hell are you on about, princess?” Komari was understandably confused and, by the expression on her face, more than a bit wary.

“You have to help me,” I pleaded, hurrying toward her.

“What are you talking about?”

“I have pubic hair! I need to get rid of it!” I discarded the scanner on the desk and grabbed her hands, knocking the magazine to the floor with my cast.

“Hah? What’s wrong with you?”

“Not all of it! Just most of it! You have to help me!”

“Pubic hair? What the… look, if it’s that big of a deal just shave it or something,” Komari stared down at my hands as if not entirely sure what to do to make the crazy person stop.

“You don’t understand! I’m not supposed to have pubic hair! I lied and said I didn’t when I do and now, she’s going to know, and I have to get rid of it! She’ll know if I shave it. You have to help!” I was, quite honestly, in a panic. I was a drowning woman casting about for a life raft and the only thing resembling such a device sat behind the desk staring at me like I’d lost what little sense I possessed.

“I have no idea what you’re saying, but if this is some kind of Tik Tok challenge or something I want no part in it. Especially after that pee your pants thing,” Komari shook her head and grimaced with the memory. “That was… not well thought out on my part. That’s for sure…”

“I don’t know what that is, but I need to get rid of my pubic hair! This is important!”

“You mean, you want, like, a wax or something?” I’d vaguely heard of it, though wasn’t familiar with the specifics.

“Will that make it look like I don’t have pubic hair?”

“Uh, I mean, I suppose? I’ve never had it done myself,” Komari appeared a bit lost and, honestly, I couldn’t blame her.

“Yes! You have to help me! I want a wax!” I implored with desperate eyes. I didn’t know what a wax entailed but if it did the job that was all that mattered. “Help me Komari wan Kenobi! You’re my only hope!” After a moment’s hesitation a smile flickered across her lips, and she nodded.

“Of course! A friend of mine owns a salon where they do stuff like that. Do you have money? ‘Cuz I’m not paying for it.”

“I have a card!” I produced the silvery bank card as proof.

“I can see this is important to you, so let’s close up shop, head over and get you smooth as a bowling ball.”

“Unh!” I nodded excitedly, reminding myself to never lie again. At least not about something so easily disprovable.

“Komari!” the young woman behind the counter called as soon as we entered the salon situated downtown between a pet store and sushi restaurant. Her hair vaguely resembled an Italian flag with stripes of red and green set astride a shock of bright white. I could only imagine the color scheme was intentional, though the reason, honestly, eluded me. “You aren’t due for a cut for three weeks! Who’s this? Girlfriend?”

“This isn’t for me, Natsumi,” she jabbed her thumb at me. “The princess here wants waxed and needs to be smooth as your dad’s head.”

“That is smooth,” Natsumi whistled.

“Think manhwa protagonist sans the light of god covering the naughty bits smooth,” Komari emphasized.

“Daaamn,” Natsumi marveled. “Full Brazilian. Gotcha. What’s your name, honey?”

“Uh, Kasumi,” I replied, not nearly as confident as I had been during the drive over.

“This your first time getting the full treatment?” Natsumi had come around the corner and taken hold of my elbow, leading me toward the back of the store and a line of curtains set up there.

“It’s her first time getting any treatment,” Komari answered for me.

“Ohoho!” Natsumi clucked. “Komachan, turn the sign for me, this is going to take some time.”

“Gotcha!” Komari seemed far more enthused than I felt she should be, which set off alarm bells.

“Now, head on in there and strip off your pants and panties then lay down on the bed while I get ready, honey,” Natsumi gently steered me toward a curtained off room.

“O-Oh, all right,” I decided in that moment I did not want to do that at all, but I’d already committed and so, steeling myself I walked through the curtain and into a room walled on three sides. It looked vaguely like a hospital room, I thought as I slipped out of my shoes and socks. Or a prison cell, albeit one lacking in security. Or walls that went all the way to the ceiling, apparently. “Once you’re naked feel free to put the towel over you!”

“O-Ok,” I mumbled nervously, becoming rather more frightened at the sounds of things being gathered on the other side of the wall. A happy Emi is a happy world, I reminded myself, stripping off my pants and panties and laying them aside. I dropped my jacket and sweater on top of the small pile of clothes on the plain white dresser near the bed and laid down, covering my groin and upper thighs with the dark towel I’d been provided.

I folded my hands over my belly nervously and stared up at the ceiling. What a harmless lie, I thought to myself. A good deed to assuage Emi’s discomfort at having not grown pubic hair at the same rate as the rest of us. The lie was nothing world changing. I’d not stolen government secrets or embezzled money from a company, I’d simply said I didn’t have pubic hair. I stared up at the wildly prancing unicorn stickers framed by chunky stars on the ceiling and wondered briefly how they could even be remotely considered a proper aesthetic choice. Still, this could be exciting! Or a nightmare. Either way, it would at least be different.

“My name is Natsumi Imai, and I’ll be your esthetician today!” Natsumi declared brightly, pushing a cart laden with cloth strips and bubbling cauldrons and oils and powders and things I couldn’t even begin to describe into the room. “You can call me Nacchan if you want!”

“K-Kasumi Fujimura,” I replied unsteadily, eyes not leaving the cart as she wheeled the thing up near my head. “Wait! What’s she doing here?” I demanded, pointing at Komari who had settled herself on a chair by the curtain and folded one leg over the other, a magazine placed in her lap.

“Moral support,” Komari grinned in reply, a sadistic light gleaming in her eye.

“Do you want her to leave?” Natsumi smiled, grabbing a mask from the cart, and placing it over her mouth and nose.

“It’s f-fine,” I muttered. What difference did it make? We were, I reasoned, all girls. I grimaced as I thought it. That whole saying seemed so contrived and trite I felt bad even thinking it. Too many manga and too much Mizuki, I decided. “Uh…is…um…is this going to hurt?” My heart dropped as I heard Komari snort in laughter.

“Liiitle pinch,” Natsumi lied.