Chapter 15

LAYLA

I grabbed the ~holy shit~ handle, squeezing my eyes closed when Bonnie merged onto Highway 400 and pushed the pedal to the floor.

“Where are we going first?” I asked, opening one eye just in time to see the front end of the tractor-trailer we cut off.

“The shops,” Blaire replied.

“Are we going to Vaughan Mills?”

“What’s that?” Bonnie asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“A huge shopping mall. I’ve never been there, but I heard they have everything.”

“They have everything you need where we’re going,” Blaire explained.

“I don’t need much,” I said. “Some new sneakers, a bathing suit, some shorts, and maybe some T-shirts.”

Bonnie and Blaire exchanged a look of amusement. Did they bring me on the trip just so they could make fun of me? I was feeling very uncomfortable, and I had to spend two days with them.

My discomfort morphed into dread when Bonnie turned into the shopping center. A large sign stood in the center of a bed of pink roses. The name of the mall was spelled out in shiny pink letters.

~Posh.~

The mall was surrounded by a fancy white fence, with a security gate regulating entry. Bonnie pulled up and rolled down the window.

“Do you have a reservation?” the guard asked.

“Yes. Bonnie Westinghouse.”

The guard consulted his phone before pushing a button to raise the gate.

“You need a reservation to shop here?” I gasped.

“Yes,” Blaire replied. “It keeps out the riffraff.”

“It didn’t work today,” I muttered, glancing down at my cheap clothes. I would be the laughingstock of this place.

Bonnie found a parking space close to the main entrance. I climbed out of the backseat, taking in the flowerbeds and fountains dotting the interlocking brick walkway leading up to glass doors.

“I’m guessing they don’t sell men’s clothes here,” I said, laughing nervously when we stepped into a two-story atrium decorated with pink marble and white columns.

“No,” Blaire said. “Posh is strictly for women. We have one in Vancouver.”

“I’ll be lucky if I have enough money to buy a pair of underwear in this place.”

“Good thing Briggs is footing the bill then,” Bonnie chuckled.

“I think we should start with her underwear,” Blaire suggested.

“Good plan.”

I followed them into the lingerie store, standing awkwardly next to a rack of panties while they talked about me as if I wasn’t even there. My eyes landed on the fancy tag hanging from a white thong.

~$135 for a thong?!~

“Come with me, young lady.”

I glanced up at the saleswoman standing in front of me. Kind gray eyes stared back at me, a sympathetic smile flashing across her mouth as she took in my outfit and shoes.

At least she wasn’t looking down her nose at me. I didn’t get that feeling anyway. But it was possible she was a really good actress, who saw a huge commission coming her way.

I followed her through the store, past racks of lingerie and expensive underwear. Maybe I could get a bra that actually fit me. It would probably cost hundreds of dollars if one thong cost that much.

“I’m Linda,” the saleswoman said, glancing over her shoulder.

“Hi. I’m Layla.”

“I’m going to do a bra fitting first if that’s okay?”

“Um, sure,” I said. “I had no idea there was such a thing, but okay.” I followed her into a bright pink fitting room with mirrors on every wall.

“What size bra are you wearing, Layla?”

“34D,” I replied quietly.

“Your breasts are quite large for your small frame,” she commented while she studied my chest. “That can make it challenging to find a properly fitting bra.”

I stared at the pink tile floor, wishing I was somewhere else.

~How embarrassing.~

“Would you like to take your shirt off?” Linda asked.

I pushed my shirt over my head, holding my breath while she measured me.

“Layla, you would probably have better support in a DD cup.”

“Really?”

“Yes, hon.”

“Great.”

“Big breasts don’t really live up to their hype, do they?” she chuckled.

I glanced at her chest, noticing that she had very large breasts as well. “No,” I agreed. “They don’t. Bras are really expensive.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighed.

“Don’t you get a discount?”

“I do. But I still can’t afford anything here.”

“Me either,” I confessed. “I can barely afford to buy a bra from Walmart.”

“Well, I guess today is your lucky day.”

“I suppose.”

She studied me thoughtfully for a moment. “You aren’t comfortable with this shopping spree.”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I don’t like to take handouts or charity.”

“Sometimes, it’s okay to accept help,” she said, rubbing my arm. “And think about how much your commission is going to help a fellow Walmart bra girl like me.”

I laughed. “You have a point there, Linda.”

Linda ended up with a nice commission, and I had enough bra and panty sets to last a lifetime. Not to mention the lingerie. How many different satin nighties does one girl need?

Not to mention some items in my bag, which I had no intention of wearing. Strange contraptions with lace and garter belts.

***

I stared at the glass monstrosity sitting at the end of the long driveway. ~Ugly~ was the first word that popped into my head, followed by ~garish~.

The Yeoseong Spa was all glass and weird angles, the three floors appearing as though they’d been stacked haphazardly and unevenly.

We pulled up under the portico, where a valet ushered us out of the car and jumped into the driver’s seat.

“What about our bags?” I asked when he drove off.

“They’ll put everything in our suite,” Blaire explained.

I followed them into the lobby, my eyes darting around the large open space with decor that kind of reminded me of a Chinese buffet I used to go to with my best friend and her parents; on a grander scale, though.

I had a feeling we wouldn’t be stuffing our bellies with chicken balls and egg rolls at this place.

“Take your shoes off,” Blaire whispered when a tiny woman with Chinese features approached, holding out a basket. She pointed to my shoes and then to the basket.

I slipped off my sneakers and dropped them on top of Bonnie and Blaire’s expensive sandals. Then the woman left with the basket! With our shoes!

“We’ll get them back when we check out,” Blaire explained.

“I’ll go check us in,” Bonnie said. She walked up to the desk and started talking in Chinese.

“Bonnie knows Chinese?” I whispered.

“Korean,” Blaire chortled.

What kind of half-wit couldn’t tell the difference between Chinese and Korean people? Me, that’s who. I was so woefully uncultured.

Our suite was extravagant. I don’t know why I was surprised. I wasn’t hanging out with girls from the trailer park.

“Are you okay, Layla?” Blaire studied me with a concerned frown. “You look a tad peaked.”

“I’m feeling a little overwhelmed,” I admitted. “I grew up dirt poor. I’ve never owned expensive clothes. And I’ve never stayed in a place like this.”

I took in the mountain of shopping bags in the corner of the living room. After the lingerie store, Bonnie and Blaire dragged me through several other stores, hence the mountain.

I now owned an entire new wardrobe of clothing, shoes, and accessories for every occasion.

“We have a bit of time before our spa appointment,” Bonnie announced, clapping her hands together. “What do you say we crack open some bubbly?”

“That’s a splendid idea!” Blaire gushed.

I accepted a flute from Bonnie, taking a small, hesitant sip. “Yuck!” I exclaimed, sticking my tongue out.

“You’ve never had champagne before?” Bonnie gasped.

“No. I’ve only been legal for a year. And people mostly drank beer where I grew up. I’ve never had an alcoholic drink in my life.”

“Wow!” Blaire gasped. “You’re quite the wholesome girl, aren’t you?”

I stared at the floor, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Bonnie said. “But I think you need a little corrupting. You’re twenty. When I was your age, I was going through a wild phase.

“Partying every night, fucking guys I barely knew. I even spent the night with a chick, to explore my options and see if I took after my dear mother. Turns out, I don’t. I like men. But only for sex. I can’t live with them.”

“Bonnie has been married three times,” Blaire explained.

“Anyways,” Bonnie continued. “What I was trying to say was, while your behavior is commendable, it’s time to let loose. This might be your only chance before you get saddled down with an old man and his kids.”

“I’m not gonna ~marry~ your brother,” I laughed. “He’s too old for me.”

“We’ll see,” Blaire sang.

“He’s a smitten kitten,” Bonnie chuckled.

“He’s just looking for sex, and I’m convenient.”

“Oh Layla,” Bonnie sighed, shaking her head. “If Briggs was just looking for a place to dip his wick, he wouldn’t do it with his nanny. My brother isn’t stupid.”

“I think he learned his lesson with bunnies after my sister.”

“Perhaps. But I guarantee you, he’s interested in more than just sex with you.”

“Drink up,” Blaire said, tapping her finger against my glass. “You need to relax before we go down to the spa.”

“Isn’t the spa supposed to be relaxing?”

“It is. But it can be a bit overwhelming for a newb.”

“What are they going to do to me?”

“Drink up,” Bonnie ordered, ignoring my question.

I took another sip. By the time I emptied the glass, I had decided it actually tasted good. Bonnie refilled my flute, and I chugged it down.

“You might wanna slow down,” Blaire suggested.

I was definitely relaxed when we headed downstairs to the spa. The twins knew what they were doing when they fed me the alcohol. I would’ve never agreed to the treatments they picked out for me if I was sober.

Two Korean women dragged me off to their chamber of vaginal torture, and I agreed to whatever they had planned. Because I had no idea what they were saying!

I skimmed the consent form they handed me.

~Was I menstruating?~

~Was I pregnant?~

~Was I trying to get pregnant?~

~Was I experiencing hot flashes?~

What were they planning to do to me? I thought I was getting a massage or one of those mud bath things.

~Not.~

Turns out the Yeoseong Spa offers a variety of ~diverse~ services that extend beyond Korean culture. My first order of business was more of a South American treatment.

My Brazilian wax was, well, definitely ~not~ relaxing. It hurt like heck! And the worst part? The women laughed and joked—In Korean!—while they ripped out my pubes.

I had no idea what they were saying, but I think they were making fun of my bush! I kept things trimmed as best as I could down there. But I couldn’t afford to wax.

After they balded my lady parts, the real fun began. I’d never even heard of vaginal steaming.

“You want me to do ~what~?” I gasped, staring at the steaming cauldron.

“Gaehoehada!”

“What?”

“Sit!”

I blinked, looking back and forth between the cauldron and the Koreans.