“We didn’t abuse it,” Xena clarifies. “He bitched about the bills from the salon for manicures, so I mentioned Vixen’s interest in cosmetology.”
Lifting my head, I pull the cold mask from my eyes and look down at Vixen. “He put you through cosmetology school?”
Vixen huffs and shakes her head. “Lynch put me through school, but Cowboy never had to bitch about the salon bills anymore.”
“He sent me to school for massage therapy,” Xena adds.
“And for waxing?” I ask as Legs hobbles down from the table and Xena begins to sanitize it.
“YouTube taught me to do that,” Xena laughs.
“And I got stuck at some girls only fucking private academy,” Molly mutters.
“No boys?” Legs hisses. “Fuck that.”
I smile, remembering that she’s as new to the clubhouse as I am.
“That didn’t stop us from finding guys.” I smile over at my friend before remembering exactly why we’re here. My smile drops, and she glares at me.
“Excuse me?” Piper chimes in for the first time since we arrived.
She doesn’t have any makeup on today. Her fresh face reveals the hairline wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. It’s the only thing revealing that she’s decades older than the rest of us. Her body is fit, and her hair is always perfect.
“She’s joking,” Molly lies.
“Your dad sent you there to keep you away from boys?” Legs is still stuck on the fact that the school we went to in Andover was girls only. I’m grateful for the reprieve from Piper’s questioning gaze. I need to touch base with my friend later and find out specifically which topics are safe and which ones aren’t.
“Lynch sent me to Andover,” Molly answers. “Cowboy was too stoned most days to remember he had a damn daughter.”
My friend pulls her feet from the basin and dabs them dry with a towel.
“God rest his soul, he was a difficult man, but your father loved you,” Piper says.
“You’re fucking my brother,” Molly snaps as she walks toward the door. “Stop mothering me.”
Silence fills the room until Legs says, “Awkward,” and leaves.
Piper follows shortly behind
Vixen paints my fingernails, dries my toes, and adds polish to them before handing me the bottle and disappearing herself.
“I sure know how to clear a room,” I mumble, turning over the Made in Jade nail polish in my hands.
“There’s a lot of history between Molly and Piper,” Xena says. “Did you mention needing a massage?”
She holds up a bottle of oil with a purple label.
“Lavender?” I ask as I stand.
“I also have coconut, honeydew, and hibiscus.”
“Lavender is perfect,” I respond.
“Well,” she gives me a sweet smile, “Can’t do much with clothes on. Strip and get on the table.”
I don’t even bother folding my clothes. I just pull them off and place them wadded up in the nearby chair. Nudity isn’t a big deal for me, and even if it was before, I got over it years ago at an all-girls school.
Face down on her table, I position my arms by my sides and my face through the oval void in the headrest.
Warm, strong hands stroke over my skin. She doesn’t miss a muscle group on my back as she digs in deep, forcing my body to relax.
“That’s so good,” I praise when her hands leave me, and I hear her pump the bottle of oil.
“You’re too young to be this damn tense.”
Her hands run over my ass and work my thighs. It takes everything in me not to spread my legs a few inches when she works my inner thighs, and her fingers brush over my center.
Disappointment fills me when she moves lower, pressing her fingers into my calves. Vixen rubbed my feet earlier when I had my pedicure, so she stops at my ankles.
“Turn over,” she instructs, handing me a small towel to keep the overhead light out of my eyes.
My upper shoulders and arms are next. I’m boneless under her hands.
“Sorry,” she whispers when her hands brush over my nipples on her way down my sternum.
A moan escapes my lips when she digs in deep at my hips bones.
“Feel good?” Her tone is breathy, aroused.
“So good,” I answer when her fingers brush my nipples again.
I’d be embarrassed at my growing arousal, but the fact that she may be turned on as well soothes that voice in my head that tells me this is wrong.
Her hands ghost down my body once more, rubbing the sweet-smelling oil on my thighs. Timing it as perfectly as I can, I let my legs widen with each outward stroke as if the rotation of her hands on my skin is forcing them open.
“Now I know what Prez was talking about.” Her fingers trace the line where my thigh meets my body. “Such a pretty pussy.”
One finger sweeps over my seam, and my hips buck up of their own accord.
“Legs told all of the girls that Prez was addicted to the taste of you the second his mouth got close.” I moan again. “Can I have a taste?”