Proof That I Really am an Evil Wench

After the club picnic on Saturday we had a bunch of people come over to the house for a night of drinking and poker – after getting busted out, R fell asleep in the chair in the living room and after I too got busted out, I very quickly became restless – by then I’d had some wine and a couple of margaritas and I was feeling a little mischievious (and impatient – we were waiting for the game to end so that we could partake in other activities ;). Finding R asleep in the chair was all I needed, and after fetching a bottle of nail polish from upstairs, I quickly set to the task of painting his fingernails before he could wake up.

As evil as I may be, I was very careful not to get any polish on his shirt and I didn’t even try to tackle the other hand that was curled under and when he woke up before the nail polish could dry and I was sure to ask him to give me his hand so that he wouldn’t accidentally brush up against anything (plus I didn’t want him to ruin his manicure).

R looked at his fingernails (painted a lovely mauvy pink – in fact, in asking another guest if he wanted HIS nails painted he said no, they’d had it done before to which I replied but not Jauva-Mauva and held up the bottle to which he said, it was probably the same color, if what I was holding up was indeed MAC. I looked at him with some disdain and said, UMM, Nooooooo it’s not MAC it’s OPI, thank you very much (not that I have anything against MAC but I worked in a salon long enough that I am an OPI girl through and through) and R then laughed at what had transpired while he had slept. Because of the way his hand was held while I was painting his nails some of his fingertips were poorly done and I begged him to let me do them properly, not thinking that he would agree but R, as it turns out is a VERY good sport (none of the OTHER guys would let me near their fingernails) and he graciously held out his hand to allow me to finish.

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I was only allowed to do the one hand though and later, after his nails finished drying, he held his hand out and questioned my color choice – it would appear that he thought that perhaps a darker polish would look better on his dark skin and I agreed that it probably would but again, I was being VERY considerate and went with a color of polish that would be easy to remove because I know what a pain dark colors can be, especially when it gets in along your cuticles.

Maybe I won’t mention how, later when he was in watching television with the others, I went to fetch his some nail polish remover but filled the trial size OPI bottle with water (and rosewater toner to give it a pinkish hue and a nice, rosy scent) and brought the bottle back down to give to R. My plan was for him to try and remove the polish and freak out when it wouldn’t come off, at which point I’d give him actual polish remover that I had left on the stairs but when I offered it to R, he said he’d do it later. M was watching me do all this and he kept shaking his head, and asked me why he EVER thought that I was a sweet, nice girl when it was very clear to him now that I was an evil, evil wench. I shrugged and laughed and agreed that apparences can be deceiving. Of course, I did wake up the next morning to find both bottles in the bathroom and R’s nails bare and when I asked him about it his response was to ask what I had ever done to him to deserve such wenchery.

I didn’t know what to say to him other than to shrug and indicate that maybe he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time – and sleeping during all of it :).

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One Response to Proof That I Really am an Evil Wench

  1. Jody says:

    Sounds like fun. I hope you get laid back enough to have a few drinks with Stace and I in Halifax. Remember, other than Richard Hill’s party, I have never seen you pleasantly drunk (well sort of at our hen night, but stil) I hope you have a few drinks (or more) on your weekend with us!!! 🙂 (I’m a bit buzzed as I write this) It always seems I’m reading about you drunk, but never see it!!!!

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