my pants were black, high rise, lacy, I wanted her to notice as I slipped them over the curves of my thighs, she was humming to herself, Li’l Bow Wow, now rapping in time with the mini speaker, slight crackle, I ain't never had nobody show me all the things that you done showed me and the special way I feel when you hold me, legs first, she said, not a question, I could smell jasmine, not actual jasmine from a shrub - gentle and honeyed, but sickly sweet, a poor recreation of the scent in the wax, with hint of cherry, she buttered me up, from knee to ankle, it slid like treacle, clinging to every crevice, that sticky film that forms above a milky drink, she wore five rings, spread over two hands, I wanted to know about her life, wanted to ask about the silver snake wrapping round her index, ruby eyes, about the smell of the wax, does she use it on herself, about her lovers, turn over, you don’t know my name, Alicia Keys now, baby baby baby with each hair, each root, my hairs and their roots now in her hands, she, carefully folding the wax strips like concertina, we were getting closer to something she and I, lives in Brixton, came from Brazil, aunt owns the salon, loud family inhabit the upstairs, kid always leaves wrappers in the stairwell, her tooth gem glinted, baby pink, Missy Elliot pass that dutch, pop that, jiggle that, legs almost bare like winter, she compliments my follicles, the next one’s hot, the next one stings, fixate on the fluorescent lights, on her white tank, her blue jeans, her smooth arms, Mario chiming, I just don’t get it, do you enjoy being hurt, her french-tipped nails, ok finally, her beautiful smile, now open up