Lady Business
by Randolph O. Mann

Karen moaned, “Linnnda weee need tooo talkkkkk’”

“Girlfriendddd I am getttttting really dizzzzy.”

“Me too, the roooom iiis spining rrrrounnnd anddd rouuuund.”

“Karennn, weeee need to fiiiind-aaa cuuuuple of chairsssss.”

A woman wearing a white smock said briskly, “Come along, ladies, and let Auntie Morris find the two of you naughty little girls an open clinician’s treatment table where both of you can lie down before either of you fall down. Jannika! Grethe! I have a couple of wayward clients in desperate need of pampering.”

A first notion rippled through Linda's brain, This is just not right! There is a totally soothing feeling overwhelming my extremities.

This was followed by second thoughts. Extremities? I did not just use the word 'extremities’!

This is bad, very very bad! What have I just gotten into? Inside my head everything is orderly and working overtime, while on the outside everything is operating in ultra slow motion. I feel like ‘reason’ is six moves ahead of the status quo and I have to lay here and wait until my fate catches up with my panic. This is truly bad. Very, very, bad.

Where are those ruby slippers, Dorothy?

Well, my sarcastic sense of humor seems in fine operating order. Thank God for the simple pleasures. On only my second margarita, I am so totally out of control, NO? I only wish I was totally out of control. Instead, I am lingering in a prone position.

‘Prone position'? There I go again, where are these words coming from? I have not only lost control of my limbs but my ‘inner-thesaurus’ too! This is like dreaming in a 3-D color movie with surround sound AND smell-o-vision and I cannot wake up.

Eeoou!? Linda, compose yourself, ‘Dear’, I am fast becoming my own worst enemy. Focus yourself, little lady, and just calmly think your way through this problem. Take a quick inventory of your resources; my body is entirely out of sync, that is to say, the motor-skills associated with the muscular functioning in all of my extremities seem to be dawdling.

‘Dawdling'? This vocabulary orgy is really pissing me off!

Where was I? Wacky, my body is totally wacky, out of control and been placed upon this very public stage too! None of my parts want to work right or if they do, they only work at half-speed and at only one third strength, just like Randy...

Randolph! It has to be him! I just know he is at the bottom of this and ‘Oh God’, when I get back to work on Monday Randy’s ass is Mine! I can still hear him, “Fashion, Exhibiting, Merchandising Administrators Ladies Escape...get it, F.E.M.A.L.E. retreat. Everyone that is anyone in the fashion world... the ones that are not ‘packing’ anyway. You just have to go!” Then when Karen and I get here the welcoming sign read “Female Egalitarian Mixer And Lesbian Elopement.” Randolph arranged the whole itinerary for this working holiday and I am holding him personally responsible for this whole affair. Oh God? I hope that was not a prophetic slip of the tongue. Slip of the tongue, my “Freudian-na” slip is showing.

Back to my task at hand. I think Karen and I are in some big trouble. Here we are positioned with our faces buried into the padded openings at the head of these treatment divans resting on our bellies while under the ever watchful eyes of everybody that is a somebody in the textile industry.

Well the ‘girl-ones’ anyway, thanks to our ‘F.E.M.A.L.E Weekend Retreat’ being only available only to the feminine sector of the Corporate Fashion World.

This situation could be worse, at least we have been permitted to maintain a semblance of reticence as we have retained our spa-turbans and waffle weave spa-wraps, safeguarding one’s modesty. The heighten sensory atmosphere combined with a total lack of motor skills seems to have rendered our natural flight instinct impotent, leaving the two of us very defenseless and entirely at the whims of this very communal arrangement. Quite frankly this very public setting has placed us on an extremely awkward exhibition. This is so truly frustrating, my mind is clear as a bell but try as I might my arms and legs simply refuse to obey any intellectual instructions.

This is just like Randy... and he had better have a very good explanation how this Fashion Exhibiting, Manufacturing & Administrating Ladies Escape went so far wide of the mark. Monday just will not get here fast enough for my liking!

Speaking of getting here too fast, I see two of Sweden’s most visually pleasing creatures, Jannika and Grethe, have just arrived at the scene of this crime to exercise a couple of helplessly vulnerable victims...

And those fatalities would be us, Karen and Linda...

...sprawled in harm’s way.

I find thinking in the third person does not make this regrettable occasion any easier to endure. And speaking of a third person, Anita Morris appears to be orchestrating this occasion.

I am sure these two technicians are arriving with an extremely slippery itinerary and the notion of making this afternoon a tactually invigorating affair.

Tactually invigorating?, tactually invigorating! There’s an understatement. Hell, these misguided blond bimbos are about to ‘let their fingers do the walking’ into my ‘parts unknown’ and upon their own, self guided, tour of my nether regions while I am obliged to lay here powerless to prevent this molestation. Randolph, really we need to talk about this first thing Monday morning!

Now I will expect that both of these ‘Tow Heads’ will be observing customary discretion during their preliminary survey considering my compromised pose, after all, we are all professionals at this Corporate Escape.


Just as I assumed, the waffle weave spa-wraps are slowly being drawn apart revealing my sparsely festooned ‘backstage’ scenery.

Festooned stage? Lighten up, Linda, you would think there was a glossary embedded into the ‘back of your mind’ where all is made clear. I am afraid I might be the only person on the face of the earth with footnotes attached to my inner voice. Festooned stage, where is this crap coming from?

For that matter, where was I? I remember I am poolside, in the wine country enjoying this holiday villa under the intense scrutiny of every female luminary in the fashion trade with my ‘diminutive derrière...'

If I do say so myself.

...upon exhibit and the worst of my apprehensions personified...

‘Personified? Nobody says personified, this word-maze needs to stop before I totally lose it. the flaxen-headed forms of Grethe and Jannika. Whom I fear will flip me over allowing my abundant personal wherewithal to pass into the unrestricted line of sight for all and sundry to see. This is just dreadful! I can not help but consider it might be less disturbing to be displayed naked and wrapped around a stripper’s pole under the callous gaze of perverted male spectators than being exposed to the scrutiny of this critical female panel of adjudicators in this pathetic arrangement...

‘Adjudicators', for Christ’s sake, I am stuck in a vocabulary brainteaser from Hell.

...women can be so very cruel and frightfully carping. Men on the other hand would focus their full attention mainly upon the inspection of my private parts. While these malevolent...

It is only a multi-syllable word, just let it go, Linda.

...women are examining every inch of my body for imperfections, with each of my flaws and every disturbing sag and unwanted blemish dully noted and applying extra scrutiny to my personal grooming skills and my choice of appropriate cosmetics. I do believe I would prefer submitting oneself to the hungry leering of a male eyeballing than this feminine ‘white-rubber’ glove inspection.

Waxing? Did that ‘Butter Cookie’ just drop the “W” bomb?

Oh crap! Karen and I are about to have our ‘pubic forests’ fall victim to these ‘Square Head’ strip loggers.

Waxing! NO Way!

Ladies! Let us not be too hasty; I think we need to talk! There is a multiplicity of hair raising options at our disposal, for crying out loud. Shaving, sugaring, and chemical depilatory creams are three that come quickly to mind. Come on girls, can we please try thinking outside of the box?

Outside of MY box anyway! Where in hell is that “Infra- Red Hair Eradicator” when we really need it? This could get very embarrassing!

Great! Anita Morris, speaking as an official representative for the T. Winston, INC Legal Department has just invited every “mermaid” loitering at pool side to huddle-up, so all interested parties can observe my public depilation project.

I am sure this has to be unlawful. I am talking Fifth Amendment rights here for Christ’s sake! What about my civil liberties, Anita? My right of first refusal, consenting adults, what about a Miranda warning!

Anita seems to be employing a red flag punch list for this waxing venture. (1) Disregard any and all modesty drapery, check! (2) Place each of the client’s legs over the edge of the clinician’s table,

and spreading my ‘Lady Business’ as wide as possible!

...check! (3) Cleanse the area to be depilated,

That was cold!

...check! (4) Pat dry the ‘Beef Curtain’ with tissue, check! (5) Mist the ‘Attic’ with anesthetic numbing spray, ...

That is a very GOOD idea!

...(6) Generously sprinkle the ‘Dew-flaps’ with a dusting of powder, check!

Hey! You ‘guys’ forgot the 'misting' part!

(7) Affix the stencil and using a red lip liner to outline the shape...

Shape? What the hell are those ‘deviant divers’ talking about? What shape? I was not consulted on such an enterprise.

...of the Cupid’s Arrow.

My pubics are going to be sculpted into the silhouette of a projectile? Eeoou, AGAIN! Who’s brain fart was that? I do not want an arrow pointing down there! Randy is a dead man!


Whoa! These tomboys need to slow down and backup. We have completely skipped over Step Number Five and I was not made privy to any ‘Hen Party’ straw polling where my ‘Bearded Clam’ hair style was discussed. So can everyone just take a ‘chill pill,’ please?

...Using the spatula...

This is NOT good! Somebody mist my ‘Quim’! Missed? Mist? Whatever, we have a very important article in procedural protocol that has been bypassed. Bi-passed? The play on words never ends does it, Linda

...extend a thick coat of hard wax, applied at a 45 degree angle, in the direction of hair growth.

No, no, no! Not before revisiting step number FIVE! Read my lips, mist my ‘Oracle’! Very important piece to this hairless Cooter puzzle! HELLO?

Ouch! Oh my God, that is hot!

If the governor has not called by now I guess I should order my last meal while we wait for the wax to cool, and ask for a bullet to bite down on.

(9) Hold the skin taut and pull...

MOTHER FUUUUU... the wax with one quick motion in the opposite direction of hair growth.


(10) Immediately apply firm pressure to depilated area with the cushion of your fingers or palm of hand to calm the skin.

Randolph O. Mann I HATE YOU!

The End