WAX

Mad? Me? Well maybe. I phoned Master Skinner up, why-
because I have to destroy every nuance of a normal life.
"Skinner? It's Becka."
"Master Skinner, what are you phoning me for?" His voice
was less then impressed. What indeed.
"Because I'm bored."
"Bored? Ahh-what a great compliment!" His voice dripped
sarcasm.
"I meant, I thought you might have a few ideas."
"Oh I have lots of those! Call me when your in a more sensible
mood. Goodbye!" He rudely hung-up! I was fuming, but part
of me, a silly, niggly bit of my persona, liked it. I dialed him
straight back.
"Why did you hang up on me?" I demanded.
"Because you are obviously still playing." His voice was magic.
"I like to play." I said sullenly.
"Yes but you play like a child-I could teach you to play like
a woman."
"You conceited sod!" But that niggly, silly Becka-me was
intrigued.
"Even your insults are juvenile. I could teach you so much."
"Lessons from a gigolo?" I had to get that in.
"If you like-have you ever played with fire Becka? Because
that's what you are doing." His voice was silky and as slippy
as a satin g-string.
"Am I?"
"Bet you haven't even played with wax yet." He teased.
"Wax?"
"Hot wax-dripped onto your skin, I could make a perfect
droplet that would fall on your clit and you would-what
would you do Becka?" That slick voice!
"Call the police you psycho!" I laughed, but he'd got me
more then a bit hot under the collar.
"Try it yourself with a tiny candle, drizzle the wax onto your
breasts, I dare you! Lesson number one!"
He hung up again and this time, I didn't call back.
Wax? Bit pervy sounding for me, but was it really? Did I
care at all what some bald sex maniac thought I should
do? Too bloody right I did! I wondered how to broach the
subject with Alan. I'd bet he'd run for the hills, wouldn't you?
Becka Martin