Whisked Backstage

Tonya, Laura and I were cleaned, then whisked off- naked- to separate salon stations. Although they were small, each station was a sleek, cutting-edge triumph of modern age machinery and hair treatment. At least, I hoped that was the case. This was my hair they were doing, dammit.

I looked at the station tech as I sat down. He was a big guy, with even larger muscles than the tuxedoed beefcake that had escorted me off the stage. He looked up from his monitor as I arrived, then nodded as I sat down.

"So you're the guy doing my hair?" I said, with as much attitude as I could muster. I couldn't believe I had to get my hair and nails done while naked. "You're not what I expected."

"I'm doing your nails, too," he said, in a gruff voice that sounded like it had a difficult time emerging from the guy's thick chest.

I raised my eyebrows. "You look more like a biker than a beautician," I said.

"I was a biker," he said. "This pays better."

"Oh," I said.

The tech continued looking at the monitor in front of him. Then he chuckled. "The computer finally decided on your look. You're going to be adorable," he said. "Sit back and lock your seat belt."