eXcessica publishing
Girls Only: The Hairdresser © February 2012 by Selena Kitt
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First Edition February 2012
A Smashwords Edition
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GIRLS ONLY:
The Hairdresser
By Selena Kitt
Selena Kitt Singles
Short Story—Big Bang!
Amanda’s hairdresser, Jen, has always been her confidante, champion and supporter—nothing short of someone she would call a “friend.” But when Jen discovers Amanda’s first gray hair at a routine appointment, it prompts a re-examination of more than just Amanda’s roots. As the two women commiserate about the dangers of getting older, they discover more in common than bad boyfriends—and a day of beauty and pampering turns into a night of full-blown sexual discovery and pleasure.
Warning: This title contains hot panty-melting girl-on-girl action!
“Sorry I’m late!” I apologized as the door closed behind me, leaving the rain outside.
Jen looked up and smiled. She was sitting in her stylist chair, reading People and drinking something from a tall Starbucks cup. They were just around the corner and I had my own, picked up on the way. I glanced around the normally busy salon at the empty chairs and quiet dryers.
“We close in fifteen minutes,” she admonished, already standing and beckoning me over. “So what do you have in mind, Mandy? Just a cut?”
“It’ll be quick, I promise.” I fingered the ends of my auburn hair, looking for split-ends. “Just a trim.”
She patted the chair. “Hop up.”
I stashed my purse under her table and slid onto the seat, smoothing my skirt and watching in the mirror as she fastened the black drape around my neck like a reverse Dracula’s cape. Jen ran her hand through my hair, still thick although I was nearing thirty-five. My mother had started losing her hair at forty and I was paranoid about compromising my best feature.
“Half an inch? An inch?”
I nodded. “Sounds about right.”
Pleasantries over, Jen got down to business, hustling me over to the sink to wash my hair before the cut. This was my favorite part of going to a salon—the warm water, the gentle scrubbing of her fingertips over my scalp, the press of her hip against my shoulder, and the lovely view of her cleavage as she bent to rinse the soap out.
Yes, I had a boyfriend—if you could call him that—but I couldn’t help my sexual proclivities, such as they were. I’d always had a thing for pretty girls, although I’d learned not to confess this fact too often, especially to my male partners. They just wanted to talk about and push threesomes, and who wanted a guy breathing over you while you were trying to enjoy yourself with a girl?
Of course, I didn’t tell women about it either, most of the time. In spite of what they told their boyfriends in college, most girls weren’t really into other girls, especially if the attention of a guy wasn’t at stake. So I just enjoyed their company and my own little secret, later fantasizing about it in the shower or in the middle of the night while Tom snored away next to me in bed.
The experience of Jen washing my hair was so pleasurable I often lost track of whatever small talk we were making at the time, and today’s topic of conversation was so oft-traveled, I’m afraid my mind definitely wandered down the front of her blouse. She was complaining about her own on-again, off-again boyfriend, a bodybuilder named Brad who worked out four hours a day and liked mirrors more than his hairdresser girlfriend.
“Why do we bother with these bastards, Jen?” I met her eyes, shaking my head in disgust as she toweled my hair dry.
“You got me.” She rolled her pretty blue eyes up under her thick, blonde bangs. Like most hairdressers, she was perfectly coiffed, her hair thicker and blonder then any Rapunzel. I could smell it when she leaned in close, fruity and sweet, and I caught another secret scent, the musky smell of her sweat and deodorant mixed. “Oh sweetie… what do we have here?”
“Hm?” I inquired, enjoying the way she dried me off like a naughty puppy after a bath too much to really take notice of her frown.
“A grey hair.”
I stared at her, horrified, disbelieving, until she plucked it from my temple, the sharp sting making me yelp, my eyes watering.
“Ouch!” I stared at the hair pressed between her finger and thumb. It was grey all right. “You’re not supposed to pluck them! Doesn’t that make them come back even more?”
“That’s an old-wives-tale.” She laughed. “Is it really your first?”
I gulped and nodded, to aghast to speak.
“You should keep it.”
She found a perfume card in the middle of a magazine, black with small white lettering. Using Scotch-tape, she fastened my first grey hair to it in stark contrast.
“Keep it?” I scoffed as she walked me back over to her station, putting the card in front of me on the table as I sat down again. What for?”
“It’s a sign of wisdom.” She picked up a comb and started working it through my hair. “And it isn’t the end of the world, you know.”
“Look who’s talking!” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “What are you, twenty?”
“Thirty.” She smiled and tipped me a wink. “And this isn’t my natural color.”
“Oh my god, I’m old.” I frowned into the mirror, too focused on my own face to notice her hair color. “Where did these lines come from?”
Jen turned my chair away from my reflection, leaning in so I couldn’t look anywhere but her bright blue eyes. “You won’t turn into a crone overnight, I promise.”
“But it’s the beginning of the end,” I protested. Since I didn’t have a mirror to point to, I showed her direct proof. “Look at my hands! Old, I tell you! I’m old!”
She pressed her lips together, arms akimbo, and then smiled, a slow, sweet smile. “I have an idea. Let’s do a whole beauty regimen. Hair, nails, skin, everything.”
I blinked in surprise. “Weren’t you getting ready to close?”
“So? I’m the only one here and Brad’s in Chicago at some bodybuilding conference for the weekend.”
I looked at her, contemplative. “Funny, Tom’s away on business this week. He won’t be back until tomorrow night.”
Jen smiled. “So it’s just us girls.”
“Guess so.” I glanced back at the mirror, seeing her looking at me. “No one to get all prettied up for.”
“Do it for you.” She ran a hand through my wet hair, her fingers grazing my scalp lightly, giving me shivers.
I shrugged and then grinned. “Why not?”
We spent two hours dying, washing, drying, brushing and coiffing. We also spent that time talking, like we usually did, about everything from my job in graphic design to hers. She was also going to school part-time to get her degree in nursing.
We also talked about our boyfriends, both of us unhappy but unwilling to make a big change either. Tom had cheated on me—twice—and Jen had let me cry on her shoulder in both instances. But I’d still gone back to him. And Jen’s boyfriend, Brad…well, I didn’t tell her so, but I wasn’t sure the man didn’t swing the other way. He was too pretty for his own good. She complained about him going out to bars a lot. It just made me suspicious.
When my hair was done and my facial and make-up complete, the last thing we did was my nails, sitting across the little table from each other, heads bent and focused.
Jen sat back and studied her work, giving a satisfied nod. “Pretty.”
“We should do you too.”
She looked up and smiled. “I’ve got a better idea.”
“Hmm?”
Jen leaned forward, so close I could smell the cappuccino on her breath. “Let’s make it a real girl’s night. Want to come back to my place? I’ve got a bottle of White Zinfandel we can share.”
The offer was innocent enough, but the look on her face gave me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had a feeling that wasn’t all we were going to share, and I turned out to be right. We polished off the entire bottle of wine sitting on Jen’s bed, going through some of her old photo albums. I’d expressed an interest and had overruled her reluctance, pulling them off the shelves.
“Damn, girl, look at you in that bikini.” She was gorgeous—slender, lean and tanned.
She scoffed, sipping her wine. “I was just a baby then.”
“I bet you still rock a bikini, no problem.” I flipped the page, finding more pictures of a girl on spring break, bright eyes and bare midriffs. “I wish I could say the same!”
“Are you kidding me? Mandy, you’re gorgeous.”
“Meh. I’m old.” I rolled my eyes, flipping another page. “Tom better marry me soon or I’m gonna die old and alone with just my vibrator for company.”
Jen laughed, stretching out on the bed beside me on her belly, mirroring my posture, kicking her feet up behind her. “Well, who needs them?”