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"There's no hair in this spot. Look."
She's right. Clever.
I chuckle. "All right. Wash up again then grab the gun."
She tears the stencil off, ripping out a handful of leg hairs.
"Fuck. Careful with that thing."
"Sorry." She pushes herself to her feet and sets the stencil on the tray. "I have to clean you up first."
"Do it."
She raises a brow. Taps her toes into the ground. Confusion flares in her eyes. She has no idea what to make of me. "Is this a dare?"
"No. It's an order." I am her boss. I'm responsible for teaching her. A quarter responsible, but that's still a fucking lot.
"Shouldn't I get some experience."
"How else are you gonna get it?"
"Grapefruits."
"You've never?"
"Never."
Fuck, maybe this is a dare. I should have her do a hundred bananas before I let her anywhere near skin. But I've come this far. I'm not backing down now. "I'm your teacher. If I don't trust you to do me, how can I ask anyone to trust you?"
Her eyes fix on mine.
"Yeah?"
"You're being reasonable."
No. I'm being stubborn. And impulsive. But I guess, for me, that's reasonable. "I'm always reasonable."
"Uh-huh." She moves to the sink. Washes up. Returns with fresh gloves and an I can do anything look on her face.
"Pick up the gun."
She does.
"You know how to turn it on?"
"Yeah."
"Do it."
She yelps as it buzzes against her hand.
"New pad of ink behind you."
"You sanitized the needle?"
"Yeah."
She turns it off. Swallows hard. "I have to clean you up."
