So Sasha returns to the salon. She is hands down one of the most beautiful women that has ever set foot in this salon.
I refered to her as my #1.
She loves to tan and I upsold her to a premium package but she feels like she gets more tan in the Cadillac. (That’s powerful but a non-premium bed) These girls are so picky.
She left for a while because she wanted to take a break from tanning. If you leave you can’t be my #1 anymore.
But one day the beautiful Sasha returns to the salon. I’m delighted to see her. I love beauty. I know I’ve always been a beauty addict. She looks marvelous as always. I welcome her back and tell her I’ve been horribly unfaithful to her and she has lost her spot as my number one. It’s all in good fun and we laugh it off. But there’s a part of me that is serious. I miss my queen. I made her my number one in my head and she left us.
“How are you? I’ve missed you Sasha.”
“I’m having a shitty day and I have a hole in my stockings.”
“I’m sorry. (intrigued by any talk about her legs) They seem okay.”
“It’s high up on my thigh, but their ruined.”
I make lists and rules for the salon and it’s all in good fun. Sasha gets it and knows it’s all just a fun game. It’s a fun way for me to fuss over these girls and create a little competition. They all have fun with it and it makes the place like a lively club.
I do love Sasha in a classic phicklephilly way. Just me being charming to a gaggle of gorgeous women I adore being in the presence of.
But when I converse with Sasha she actually ruins the false dream I create for her. They always do. She seems shallow and high maintenance. She’s really into tanning. I love that. The beautiful addicts. Addicted to anything that they think will make them prettier. They cling to everything they can to hold onto the only thing they truly possess that has carried them through their entire lives. Beautiful DNA lottery winners that have skated through their lives sliding down the rainbow of their own genetic beauty and have had everything handed to them. Please don’t misunderstand me here. I get it. I’m a beauty addict. I love them all. I don’t care what’s going on inside of these lovely vessels.
She says she struggles getting her face tan. She’s not happy about the premium package I totally gave her a deal on to help her. She feels like a different bed works better because it is hands down the strongest bed in the house. I don’t care. Sasha’s paying for the premium package and using a lesser bed. Give the people what they want. Whatever works.
Sasha reveals to me that she is 112 lbs and 23 years old. She’s a spectacular, lean Persian beauty and her mom works in local TV in Boston. This chick is a genetic miracle and born into money. Her face is lovely. Her hair is black and even though her nose is crooked, she is a perfect beauty. She has almost no bustline. I like girl with small breasts because they appear more youthful. Her body is lean and her legs are incredible. So I adore her on just the leg aspect. If you’ve been reading this blog you know I am leg obsessed so I would date a girl with an average face if she had a good landing gear and means of propulsion.
While waiting for the sunbed she wants she also tells me that in high school she was 140 lbs. Fat she says. A bigger girl. Who knows what was going on there but on a girl of her stature that’s chunky. She says in High School she was a bad girl and fooled around with a lot of boys because she felt ugly.
Okay, overweight and low self esteem and your mom was smoking hot. I get it. The blog isn’t going to write itself so I’m all ears.
She’s been with the same boyfriend since she was 17 years old. She now works at an IT Recruitment firm here in Philly with a bunch of girls that tan here. There is one girl who is in my top 5 that brough them all in and she’s gorgeous. I love her too. I can be at the back of the salon without my glasses and I know when this chick comes in just from the slender shapely legs that I see with my special leg targeting super power. Believe me, when it comes to legs, I have a super power. I can hear the rustle of stockings from 50 yards away!
I love stockings and hose. They encase and cling to a woman’s legs to make them look better and keep them warm. Any leg wear and anything related to women’s legs drives me nuts and makes the dopamine drop like mad. I love it.
Anyway, she and the boyfriend live together here in Philly. He goes to Penn and she works in recruitment. They’re both from Boston. So he’s in school and she’s working. So the obvious move financially was to get a place together. They’ve been together for 4 years.
She tells me that if they get married, (Which seems inevitable) she wants a 3 carat diamond ring. She even shows me a photo of the ring she wants. I start to hate my number one. (Former number one)
A ring like that costs anywhere between ten grand and twenty grand. That’s insane. What kind of woman would put that much emphasis on a stone that is in a created market by the DeBeers family.
Most natural diamonds are formed at high temperature and pressure at depths of 140 to 190 kilometers (87 to 118 mi) in the Earth’s mantle. Carbon-containing minerals provide the carbon source, and the growth occurs over periods from 1 billion to 3.3 billion years (25% to 75% of the age of the Earth).
It’s the hardest mineral on the planet but marriage is a complicated and fragile experience. Half of them fail and the wedding business is a billion dollar industry. I’m starting to hate Sasha. She’s a vacuous foolish girl who has watched too many Disney movies and grown up in a place not based in reality.
Think of the pressure this is putting on her man. I tell her he’s going to have to find and incredible career out of college to become that level of debtor to buy her a stone on a ring that could slip off and fall down a sink forever.
So pretty but so superficial. I find that behavior empty and gross. So pretty on the outside. Ugly and stupid on the inside.
Can you imagine a guy dropping $20K on a fucking ring for a girl with no tits and working at a recruitment firm? And she’s a shitty person. She’s just really pretty. That’s it.
Run, dude. But that poor sap can’t believe that he finally gets to fuck the hottest girl in the room. Run, dude.
Sasha tells me if they ever move back to Boston she’s going to get a roommate and they will live separately I ask her why if they’ve been together for so long. She says she doesn’t like the idea of them acting like they’re married and not actually being married.
But they’re doing that now. It’s just tradition and ideals at this point. That would be expensive and stupid.
I can see all of this insanity from where I’m sitting now at 55. I’ve lived through every nonsense relationship tradition you could probably imagine. It always ends the same.
I look at Sasha and I’d love to fuck her back to the stone age, but that’s it at this point. She has officially lost her superficial silly title as the number one babe at the tanning salon. (I know it’s just a game, but we gotta have some standards here people)
Somehow when she’s sitting there and we’re chatting and we’re getting into work stuff she says the phrase:
“I’m not going to be a pussy about it.”
Me with six 5 star Yelp reviews has to embrace my fallen number one using the word “Pussy” I have to do this. We’re close enough now.
“Sasha. It’s funny that people use that word as being soft or weak.”
‘I know, right?”
“I hear that phrase a lot and I’ve given it some thought.” I say this as the older statesman of the tanning salon in Rittenhouse. I’m the guy that the girls listen to in regard to which bed, lotion, exposure time and program they should adhere to be beautiful now.
“What are you thinking about that?”
I love that we’re going to have this conversation. I’m going to risk it.
“When men say things like, grow a pair of balls, or sack up, they mean be a man and be hard. Be brave and stand up for yourself. But in reality, the testicles are the most fragile part of a man. If you strike or kick a man in the balls he will fall to the ground and actually feel broken and nauseous from that. You can basically take a man out by hitting him in the balls. They hang outside his body in a bag and aren’t even strong enough to be inside his body to manufacture sperm. Fucking weak. One swift kick and we’re down. On the other hand, pussy is strong. Stronger than balls. A pussy can take a solid pounding and is strong enough to push out a baby. A human being. Pussy is mighty.”
I know I risk being fired for this view.
“I totally agree with you Charles, and think about that all of the time.”
I love that Sasha think about how strong her sweet pussy is all of the time. I would like nothing more that to test the tenacity of her vagina. But I digress.
This is as intimate as I’ve ever been with hot, shallow, Sasha and I offer the Sweet and Sexy hot bronzer. She accepts it after hearing of its effects and actually like the idea of me giving it to her for free.
This is so fun! I love this tanning drama!
She comes out after her session and looks a little red. I tell her rosy complexion is the tingler activating the melanin in her skin to make her darker. She likes that. She tells me she had micro blading done on her eyebrows. I don’t know what that is, but apparently it’s something that will make this already perfect girl more beautiful.
Microblading, also known by a variety of names such as embroidery, microstroking, feather touch and hair like strokes, is a form of permanent makeup that provides a means to partially or fully camouflage missing eyebrow hair with the appearance of simulated hair using fine deposits of cosmetic tattoo pigments. Over time the strokes can blur and fade and will need to be refreshed.
Sasha tells me she has to protect her eyebrows from tanning while she is microblading. I wish I had come up with a nonsense product that people felt like they needed their whole life.
No. I could never do that to another person because that’s a lie. Sasha is beautiful and fucked up, but I’m here to serve her.
She comes out a little rosy from the lotion.
“Look. It worked. You look darker. Amazing.”
“I do right?”
I touch her forehead and arm. She’s red. My fingers gentle touch leaves a white impression then returns to red/brown. She’s happy with the results and I am the therapist. I am the one that delivers the tan. The beauty, The thing they all crave and don’t really need, but this is a business and it’s what Achilles and I do now. (See: Achilles – The Bronze God)
I notice her lovely legs are bare when she comes out of the booth.
“What happened? Won’t you be cold?”
“I told you I ripped a hole in my stockings today.”
I watch as she throws a black cloth wad into the trash.
“See you Thursday and thank you for everything!”
Off she goes.
I slowly walk her to the door and wave goodbye.
I watch her bound down the steps. Her shapely lean legs flexing as she makes her way back to Walnut street.
I turn back to the trash. That’s Sasha’s black sheer stockings that encased her lovely legs all day in the trash. The ones with the disappointing hole.
The disappointing hole.
It’s really high on Sasha’s thigh. I don’t know why she was so upset. The stockings seem fine and still carry the scent of the former number one that just discarded this artifact and left.
I guess I’ll take out that trash to the dumpster.
You decide what I did.
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