Elvis Presley Imagines

Steppin' out of line...

|| My adorable readers, thank for all the support you keep giving me so far. I'm here to say that this story might be slightly shorter than the others, since it's gonna focus on just an 'event'. I hope you enjoy! ||

Los Angeles, 1963.

It is a beautiful day in Los Angeles. You are walking down Sunset Boulevard and you stop at the cafe, to get a takeaway cappuccino. You love it here, every morning, your routine... Mostly because you are the beautician of the famous movie production house, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. You have been seeing celebrities of all sorts; today, you feel like it is going to be the most special meeting you will ever have.

You make your way to the main entrance of the studios, smiling at your colleagues. "Good morning, Y/N." You hear, so you turn and smile. "Good morning, Maxwell!" Maxwell, the main stylist, has been your best friend ever since you started working. You are only twenty-five, but you have been working since you were fifteen. You are one of the few people who are so talented in skincare, you won several prizes in your hometown, Dallas, one of them being the most important prize, it sent you here in Los Angeles, the home of movie stars!

Slowly, sipping your cappuccino, you enter your beauty studio and begin to gather your things, tidying up the place a little bit since you do not want your clients to be disgusted of what surrounds them while you are taking care of them. "Let's put on some music." You tell yourself, walking to the record player and turning it on, bending down to choose a vinyl record to play. You decide to play the soundtrack to one of your favorite movies, 'Blue Hawaii'. Even if it is from Paramount Pictures, you still love it so much... Mostly because you love the main actor, Elvis Presley! 

As you listen to the music, the first hour of work passes quickly: you already tidied up everything that you needed to! So, you decide to check your appointments, you slide your finger down the names and you read this name, Rusty Wells; it rings a bell to you, but you must be already high from your coffee-drinking. "Never mind." You say as you stand up, going to put the vinyl back in its case, playing another one by Nancy Sinatra, one of your favorites. Just while you are about to press the button to play it, you hear a knock on the door. "Coming!" You say, playing the record and standing up, fixing your uniform and walking to the door. You open it: it cannot be real.

There is a man standing on the other side of the door, he is wearing a scarf around his face, only his eyes are visible. You can recognize those eyes from a distance, it is totally him. As he takes off the scarf, being sure not to have anyone looking, you notice that he has a week-long, thick, brownish beard.

"G'mornin', ma'am, I-" The man begins, but you quickly close the door again. "SHIT." You silently mumble to yourself, before opening the door again, acting as if it is the heaviest door you have ever held. "Pardon me! This door malfunctions most of the time, ugh!" You say, doing your best to keep it open. "Come on in!" You add, as the man enters your studio. "You must be Rusty Wells?" You ask bluntly, but the man chuckles. "Uh, no, ma'am. I'm Elvis Presley. That was just for the appointment..." He says, going to sit down on the little couch. "Oh, yes, how dumb! Well, what do you need to do?" You ask, placing your hands on your hips, waiting for him to reply. "I need to wax my face and- have a manicure, a pedicure and I think that's it. The producers want me to wax my chest as well but- but I don't think I gotta..." Elvis tells you, looking down. "Okay! Would you mind taking off your shirt, mister Presley? I don't want to get it dirty with the wax." You say, walking out of the studio and closing the door to let him have some privacy. 

A few minutes later, you walk back into the room and smile at your handsome client. "Should we start?" You ask, moving towards the shelf with the boiling wax, looking at Elvis. "Y- Yes..." He says, gulping loudly; you giggle lightly at his behavior, you think he is adorable. Yet, you try your best to be professional and you slowly begin to apply the wax on his cheek with the little waxing paddle. "Please, don't be too harsh..." Elvis begs you as you take the small-enough viscose strip, laying it on the wax. "I'll try not to." You kindly reply, before softly pulling his skin in the opposite direction of the hair growth, using your other hand.