This is... not good, and it's entirely down to the main character of this one-act play. Salome lacks the remotest sense of credibility, and when I say she lacks it, I mean that she lacks it entirely. Consider my paraphrasing of some of the events in this play:

Salome: I love your body, it's so perfect, let me touch it!
John the Baptist: Hell no.
Salome: I hate your body! But your hair, it's so perfect, let me touch it.
John the Baptist: Hell. No.
Salome: I hate your hair! But your mouth, it's so perfect, let me touch it.
John the Baptist: Are you fucking deaf?
Salome: Well die then. I can snog your decapitated head instead.

You see what I mean? Unless the point of Salome is to present the main character as absolutely off her rocker, completely erratic in her incel behaviour, this makes no sense. Keep in mind that the above takes place over, oh, fifteen minutes or so, as she meets a man, falls in immediate lust, and then sulks off to murder in less time than it takes most of us to eat breakfast. Salome's mother Herodias comes off as credible, and Herod as well - both are unpleasant, but they're believable enough. Salome, however... it's like Wilde wrote her while very, very drunk and she never made it past a first draft version of herself. She doesn't need a creepy incestuous stepdad and his bribery promises, she needs a padded room and medication.