Pauline Plummer
In the Salon
While I buffed his immaculate nails
I sized up the rows of transplanted hair,
The designer immaculate clothes
Paid for by months on the rigs.
When his wife and the kids were away
I glued on the lash extensions -
Nothing too brash - and slipped him
A bit of remover, in case.
In the intimacy of the booth
With the cloying smell of melting wax
As I wrenched off his leg hair in strips
He told me about the lingerie bought for his wife,
How he snapped into her basque
And slipped on something cool
And cobwebbed while she clacked away
Into her own face in the monitor.
He likes our new line in varnish
The warm blush colours
And the artificial tan mousse.
Go on, try it I said, but he’s not sure.
Page(s) 44
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