High Heels & Pink Glitter (the heavily edited version)

Backs, sacks and cracks

There was no sign of Nell, Kelly noted as she approached the Pure Spa therapy lounge door on West Neil Street. Her best friend had treated her to vouchers for her birthday, dismissing Kelly's protests that £150 was far too much, claiming that she and Danny could afford it, and that it was a gift for her as well, and they'd only just got around to spending them.

Sorry! Running ten mins late. I'll get you inside. X

She pushed the door open. Three chairs were arranged around a small black wood table covered in well-thumbed issues of Vogue and Harpers Bazaar. A man sat there, desultorily flicking through one of them.

He glanced up, catching her eye.

Oh, fan-dabby-dozy. Super-rude Nate. The keto diet bore who thought all she did was a 'wee bit o' writing'. He looked no more pleased to see her than she did him. But, because the other seat was already occupied, she was forced to take the one next to him.

"Here for the back, sack and crack wax then?" she asked, not bothering to lower her voice.

He grimaced. "God, no! What a terrible thing to dae to yoursel'."

One of the seats' other occupants—a young man whose hair colour and luxuriant beard hinted at substantial fur coverage of his back and genitals—glared at him, and Nate, spotting it, jumped in with a hasty apology, "Though if you are a bit gorilla-like across the back, mebbe it is a good idea", which only made the original remark much worse.

A therapist dressed in the regulation black tunic and trousers emerged from one of the treatment rooms and called out a name. The young man rose to his feet and scurried after her. They heard her assuring the man that whatever he was getting done wouldn't be that painful.

Kelly found herself grinning. She leant in, noting that Nate used the same aftershave as Mark, although Nate was much scruffier. His T'shirt had a washed-out fade and shapelessness to it, and the trackie bottoms he wore had holey knees. He'd had his hair done since she'd last seen him. The classic short back and sides, spiky front, and shorter cut suited him.

"Are you always this tactless?"

He nodded, rueful. "Aye, my mother says I'm just like ma faither. Chronic case o' foot in mouth disease, for which there's nae cure. I'm waiting for ma daughter. She's having her nails done. Those stupid-looking fake things that every lassie at her school seems to—"

He came to a halt, his gaze shifting to Kelly's hands. She raised an eyebrow and extended them out in front of her, studying her nails, which were currently an inch-long and painted purple, with the middle finger done in silver, because it was far hipper not to have each nail an identical colour.

"Aw, shite. I've done it again, haven't I?"

"You sure have."

A blood-curdling scream sounded from the treatment room the man had entered, and she winced. "Whoops! They always start with the back since it's the largest area to cover, so she won't even have reached his balls yet, poor sod."

Nate shook his head. "Would ye no' be scarred for life if a woman did that tae your balls? I dinnae think you'd ever let someone touch ye there again."

"Depends on the individual," Kelly said. "I taught myself the art of waxing some years ago to save money, and the guy I was with at the time requested I carry out the procedure on him. Didn't seem to put him off afterwards."

The elaborate S&M game had resulted in Mark yelling so loudly, his neighbours called the police. He'd shut the door and buried his head in his hands, shaking with laughter, after he'd explained that he was in no immediate danger. Fuck's sake, Kelly! I've now got a hard-on that's gonnae last intae the middle o' next month. Gonnae finish me off?