WORK
BY TERESA BEVIN
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BEAUTY ARRIVES ON FRIDAY
Ramona goes to the beauty salon every Friday to have her roots tinted and her hair styled. A facial treatment, manicure, and pedicure are also part of the maintenance program.
"But of course I spend money on myself, Matilde" she tells her admiring neighbor. "We have to keep what we have. The years keep falling on top of us and it's our job to polish and reface, polish and reface until face-lift time. And I must confess that all of that attention placed on my person at the salon is the best therapy I know."
Manolo looks forward to Fridays too, because he finds Ramona looking her best and smiling from ear to ear when he returns from the office.
"On Friday, Ramona is always ready for you-know-what," he tells Agustín, his associate. "Maybe her hormones get a work-out with all the sprays and cosmetics in the beauty salon. I don't know what else it could be. If it were any other day of the week... nothing happens, Agustín, nothing at all no matter what. She's made of marble."
On Friday, Ramona wakes up in a good mood, which she communicates to Manolo with the first sip of coffee that she brings to him in bed. She nurtures and pampers him, she listens without giving advice. He has little reason to complain.
"Today is Friday, Ramona," he says, still half-asleep. "Did you make the appointment?"
"But of course, darling. I make my appointments way ahead of time. You will find me at my best when you get back home tonight. I'll be smelling like a rose, and ready for you." She bats her eyelashes, and then shakes her index finger playfully at him. "But make sure you take your time on your way back. Don't be rushing through a red light."
Ramona still looks good. When she enters the salon in the afternoon, the other women inspect her from head to toe to calculate her age, and how many times a week she goes to the gym. Ramona sucks in her stomach and holds her head high.
The regulars greet her while conducting their own brief evaluation. Two women exchange a significant look, and one of them whispers:
"Don't suffer. She probably isn't much to look at under those expensive rags."
Lila, the head beautician, greets Ramona with a wide, welcoming smile, anticipating the generous tip that she will stuff in her blouse pocket before she leaves.
Lila reaches for a protecting cape, and with a spring in her step she guides her most loyal client to the dressing room. There, Ramona leaves her blazer and blouse in Lila's hands, and substitutes them for the satin cape that she offers her.
Ramona's heartbeat begins to accelerate as she anticipates the attention that is about to be dispensed on her.
Lila is young, pretty, and full of energy. She is poised and confident, as someone who knows herself well. She insists on washing Ramona's hair herself, instead of leaving the task in the hands of one of the lesser attendants. This is an obvious privilege, since Lila is a master hairstylist and the manager of the salon, and naturally, considers herself far beyond that menial task.
But not when Ramona is concerned.
She washes her hair with great care. With the tips of her fingers, she gives her client a relaxing scalp massage. Ramona wants to abandon herself to the sensations, but closes her eyes instead, struggling to contain her secret longings. She will be able to look at Lila when she gets a hold of herself.
When the client's hair is clean and smelling of expensive shampoo and conditioners, Lila wraps Ramona's head and shoulders with a thirsty towel that she uses only on her. She then escorts her client to the rotating chair where she will finish beautifying her.
While Lila hovers around Ramona incessantly, Ramona feels the firm breasts brushing against her shoulders, and her hands grasp the arms of the chair for support. Now she feels the curvature of Lila's hard thigh muscles against the back of her hands and her knuckles, now white with tension.
"You don't need your roots done today," the hairstylist says, softly, running her fingers through her client's hair, which sends chills down Ramona's back.
Lila's breath is pleasant, a mixture of youth, cigarettes, and coffee. Breathing it in, Ramona feels fiery waves that climb up her spine. There's a tingling sensation on her legs and she has to resist the urge to rub them together in ecstasy.
Lila lowers the chair and bends over Ramona's head to reach for the first curler. Now her breasts are parallel with her client's nose. Ramona observes them furtively with her eyelids at half-mast. She figures that those must be the most beautiful breasts she has ever seen in her life. She envies them because of their shape and firmness, and desires them because they are so close, and they belong to Lila.
"Am I setting the curlers too tight?" the beautician asks in a soft whisper.
"No. They're fine. You never make them too tight."
Ramona notices how her own breathing accelerates uncontrollably. She may be able to cover it with conversation, but she feels too nervous and clumsy for even the most inane of conversations. She remains silent, and tries to calm down.
The beautician is amazingly versatile and efficient. Once she has placed the curlers, she begins the facial treatment. She does everything with such care and delicacy, that Ramona loses control momentarily and needs to readjust herself to stop twitching in the chair.
When Lila finishes applying moisturizing cream on Ramona's face, she places her client under the dryer and begins the manicure.
The two women look at each other. Ramona's eyes sparkle like stars from the white background of the facial cream. Her hands, cold with nervousness and excitement, are held by Lila, who warms them up by rubbing them lightly. She caresses the hands and admires their softness before Ramona's pining gaze.
Lila smiles, and looks in her client's eyes, trying not to betray her thoughts. "Her Magesty has never had to work a day in her life. No wonder she keeps herself so milky white and buffed. She's like a French doll in a store window. I bet she never gives her husband a blow-job. I wonder what would happen if I take this game a little further? It may be worth it for both of us. Hmm."
Ramona can't stop the flow of her imagination either. She has a vision of herself with Lila, in another place... But she quickly becomes ashamed of her own thoughts and the scene that she has allowed herself to imagine. She feels herself blushing under the moisturizer. But she can't stop thinking the forbidden. "Ah, Lila! If you only knew what I'm imagining."
Ramona's feet are soaking while Lila polishes her fingernails. She is in heaven. When Lila begins to massage her feet, Ramona fears she may orgasm, so she forces herself to think of something else. Should she drive straight home? Should she stop for a bottle of wine to share with Manolo? Should she make reservations at their favorite restaurant? There, that's better.
Lila begins to undo the curlers, gliding around her client, as if she were licking an icecream cone. She makes sure she brushes against her client, leaning a little now, brushing lightly, withdrawing completely later. She whispers gossip that Ramona can't hear. But she knows that Ramona just wants her to talk, and talk.
Ramona closes her eyes to allow a new image to enter her consciousness, where she sees Lila as her massage therapist. Perhaps next Friday she would have the courage to ask her if she knows how to give massages, or if she wants to practice on her body. But the mere thought scares her stiff.
Ramona admires Lila's energy, her air of sensual knowledge, her scent, a simple cologne mixed with sweat. She receives the warmth of those hands in mute gratitude, and she falls into a trance, lulled by Lila's warm voice.
As she works, the hairstylist moves efficiently but without haste, though she knows that her next client is waiting.
The woman is beginning to get impatient in the waiting area, looking at her watch as she walks by them with fire in her eyes as she repeatedly goes to the powder room.
Ramona is floating among clouds, as if she were infused with new energy, as if she were rejuvenated with each caress of the busy hands, with each word dedicated to her alone. She feels as if time rushed by. But on occasion, she feels as if she could stop the minutes and hang onto them a little longer.
Lila is now removing the cream from Ramona's face while talking about her dreams of opening her own salon. She's very animated when she tells about how she would like to decorate the establishment, and the details that she would dispense on her clients. She even tells Ramona that when those dreams are fulfilled, she would enjoy unconditional privileges for her years of loyal patronage.
Ramona has been trying to convince Manolo to allow Lila to rent one of his business properties at half price, if only until the business grows, but she hasn't told Lila yet. She's expecting to convince him completely and then she will bring her the welcome news. Lila would be eternally grateful.
Lila brushes Ramona's neck gently, to remove errant clippings, and she delineates her eyebrows carefully with a tiny brush. She applies the make-up with delicate strokes, enhancing the strong points of her client's features and fading the slightest defects. Ramona feels faint when Lila's face is so close to hers. She can feel the air leaving Lila's nostrils to bounce lightly against her cheeks.
The styling of Ramona's hair is the last stage. And that's where Lila displays the best of her talents. She takes care of each lock with creativity and ease, and continuously evaluates the general effect.
At the end of the session, Lila holds her client by the shoulders to admire her own work. Obviously satisfied, she places a mirror in front of Ramona, and they smile at each other.
Lila accompanies Ramona to the dressing room once more. She helps her with the cape, holds the blouse up for her to slip her arms into it. She rests her eyes on Ramona's naked shoulders and cleavage, noticing tiny freckles everywhere. Lila holds up the blazer, and turns Ramona around to look at her one more time. She fluffs here and there as a final touch, and they smile at each other.
"I'll see you next Friday, Lila," she says, placing a tip of two twenty dollar bills in the front pocket of the beautician's blouse. Then she holds out her hand, which Lila takes into hers for a few seconds.
"Until next Friday at the same time, Ramona. Today, you look better than ever."
"You always flatter me so," Ramona blushes.
"The truth can never be flattery."
"Thank you," She whispers as she floats more than walks to the cashier.
Ramona smiles at her own image on the rear-view mirror. Today she really looks better than ever. Manolo won't be able to wait until after dinner.