Cut , Dried
This story has been written jointly by Matriarch and EmeraldKitten. Both have put in an equal amount of time and effort, writing a section each consecutively. This story could not have been written without Kitten. It was an immense pleasure working with her, and an honour. She has a huge talent and has taught me a great deal during this time.
As posting can only take place on one site, it was decided to submit on my page, but all comments and voting will be for us both.
I was sitting in the reception area of the salon, reading the newspaper, cursing the slow day. How was I supposed to make money out of invisible people?
The shrill ring of the telephone cut off my thoughts. Aha! At last, some last minute person needing in to get their hair done. I practically ran to the phone, and once I answered, I frowned, realizing it was someone wanting an appointment with a different operator for the following day. Just my luck.
I’d put them on hold, and walked over to Susana’s book, when the bell above the front door jangled. I looked up, saw a woman had entered the salon, told her I’d be with her in a minute, and went about making the appointment. Hanging up the phone, I moved back to the front of the shop, smiling.
“Hi, can I help you?” I asked, as I took in her appearance. She was older, probably somewhere between forty and fifty, with brown hair, shot with silver strands, that reached just past her shoulders. Eyes a cross between green and brown. Wearing a light blue sundress, she looked like she’d just gotten off work, or was about to go in.
“Yes, I don’t have an appointment, but I was wondering if there was a chance to get a hair cut? If no one has time, I understand, but I just thought I’d check.”
“You’re in luck. It’s been an awfully slow day. You’re actually saving me from myself,” I finished, with a laugh. Turning slightly, I said, “You can come on back.”
I led her from the reception area, around the corner, and back to my station. It was a cosy little nook, and I always liked being back there. It seemed so safe, and comforting in a way.
She sat down in my chair, and I spun her to face the mirror.
“So, what are we doing to you today?” I picked up the cape, and draped it over my arm, as I watched her explain through the mirror. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I had been staring at her, instead of listening. Mentally shaking myself, I tuned back in to her words.
“If we could just take maybe an inch or so off the length, then trim up the layers, I think that should do. I don’t like fooling with it much. Just a style that’s quick and easy; a ‘wash and go’ basically.” Laughing, she smiled at me through the mirror.
“Ahh, I see. I think I might be able to handle that.” I smiled, and ran my fingers up through her hair, breaking up the light hair spray.
I was looking down at her hair, and as I stepped to the side to put the cape over her, I caught a glimpse of her cleavage. Right down the front of her dress actually. The fabric fell relatively loosely over her chest, but just snug enough to accentuate the fullness of her breasts. I caught myself staring into the neckline. Stunned, I quickly moved and flicked the cape deftly over the front of the small woman, securing the snaps in the back.
I thought I felt her eyes on me, but shrugged the feeling off, until I glanced in the mirror, and my gaze collided with hers. Quickly looking away, I turned the chair around, and lifted up the top of my station. I grasped the lever, and tilted the back of the seat down, lowering her head into the bowl.
Nothing was said, but I felt a flush start from my chest, and spread to my face. Cursing myself, I grabbed the hose and turned the water on, setting it on a comfortable temperature.
“Is that too hot?” I asked, cringing at the way it sounded coming out of my mouth.
With her eyes shut, she said, “Mmm, no, it feels good.”
I quickly wet her hair, and shut the water off. I put a couple pumps of shampoo in my palm and rubbed them together, and gently applied it to her hair. Once I’d worked up a lather, I began my scalp manipulations. Using the pads of my fingers to massage her head, I worked around the hairline, across the top of her head, sliding them easily through the suds, to the back of her head; gingerly I manipulated the nape of her neck, repeating the procedure a few more times.
Around about the second time, it started feeling different. I’m not sure if it was just me being over imaginative, or if it was because I felt myself becoming aroused.
The thought stopped me in my tracks. ‘Aroused?’ What in the world was I thinking! I retrieved the hose, turned the water back on, and rinsed her hair. Reaching into the cupboard, I pulled out a towel and draped it over her head. Grasping the lever, I lifted the chair back into its upright position.
I combed through her hair, parted it off, and set about cutting. Feeling a little warm, I excused myself and went to turn the bursa eve gelen escort air down. Once I stepped up behind the chair again, I realized that this silence was killing me, and tried to start up a conversation.
“So, do you live around here?”
“Yep. Been here for a couple years now. It’s a nice quaint little town.”
Laughing, I replied, “Yeah, ‘quaint’ isn’t how I’d describe it, though.”
After a few moments, I spoke again. “By the way, I’m Danielle. And you are?”
“Oh, I’m Rebecca.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I paused for a split second, “Rebecca.” as thought I was testing her name on my tongue.
There was another lull in the conversation, but I let it sit. I focused on making sure the length was even, and holding the hair at the correct angle to get the layers in properly. I felt her gaze on me through the mirror once more, and I knew if I looked I’d meet her eyes. I didn’t. I just kept cutting.
I set my shears and comb down on the station, and ran my fingers through her hair; checking the length, shaking it, picking it up and letting it fall, making sure the layers looked even.
Each time my fingertips grazed against her scalp, I felt like an electric charge had been sent through my fingers straight down to my toes. Maybe it was because I knew Rebecca was staring at me in the mirror, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I glanced at my hands, and saw that they trembled slightly. Just enough to notice. I felt myself flush. I decided that the haircut was perfect.
“Would you like me to blow dry it?” I asked, cringing inwardly at the husky resonance in my voice.
“Yes, please. That would be great.” As she spoke, I summoned the courage to look into the mirror at her. She had a small smirk on her face as if she was trying not to break out in a full smile. As I watched, her gaze flicked down from my face, and she looked over every inch of my body that was visible in the mirror.
Swallowing hard, I grabbed the blow dryer and flipped it on. Thank god her hair fell into its natural part, because I wasn’t sure I could’ve found my voice to ask which way it needed to go.
The few minutes it took to dry were enough for me to find my brain and my voice again.
“Does that look about right?” I asked, running my fingers through it a few more times, for no good reason.
“Yep, I’d say that it’s perfect.” Rebecca said, smiling.
“Well then, I suppose I’m done torturing you,” I giggled. Unsnapping the cape I lifted it off her, careful not to get any hair on her dress.
However, as I did that I again caught myself staring at her cleavage. My eyes drifted down to the expanse of leg that showed. That time I looked away quickly, folding the cape and laying it over the arm of the chair as she stood.
I led her back up to the front desk, taking a few deep breaths on the way.
“That’ll be fifteen dollars.” I told her over my shoulder, while I wrote the total on my tablet.
She laid a twenty on the counter, and told me to keep the change.
“Thank you very much.” I looked up then and smiled, but it was lost on Rebecca. Her head was bent while she dug through her billfold.
“Here. I may as well give you one of these.” Smiling, she offered me a business card. I reached and took hold of it, but she didn’t let go immediately. I glanced back up into her eyes and was lost in them. Neither of us moved, and my breath caught in my throat.
Rebecca let go, albeit hesitantly. She smiled, said thank you again and headed for the door. Once there she turned to look at me. I was still staring after her. With a smile and a wink, she exited the salon.
I glanced at the card, my mouth falling open in surprise.
I glanced at the card, my mouth falling open in surprise. It was plain white, with a thin silver border. The legend consisted of just 5 words and a telephone number, also in silver. ‘Rebecca Stone ~ Fun Party Consultant’
For the rest of that day, my thoughts kept drifting back to Rebecca. The way she looked, the way she smelled, the sight of her cleavage, the feel of her hair; but most of all, the look on her face, in her eyes as they met mine in the mirror. And every time I remembered, the stirring, shivery arousal returned.
I was confused; I’d never felt this way about a woman before. Not saying I hadn’t thought about it, what it would be like to make love with a woman, but I had never been aroused by a woman; until now; it made me….uncomfortable. No. Wrong word. Not uncomfortable. Disconcerted. And excited. Yes, I had to admit, I was damn turned on by it. By her.
I got through the rest of the day, dealt with the few clients that turned up, even managed not to see her face when I looked into the mirror at a client.
At last the day ended. I closed up the salon and left for home.
As I walked to my car, I passed women in the street, and for the first bursa escort time I found myself looking at them, appraising them. I noticed that one had her hair the same as Rebecca, one was the same height, one had a similar figure.
Damn, this woman had got to me. What the hell was going on?
I drove home, distracted; thank heavens there wasn’t too much traffic on the road. All evening, no matter what I was doing, cooking supper, watching TV, my thoughts kept drifting back to her.
Finally I decided to take a shower, go to bed, sleep and get over it.
As I unbuttoned my shirt and released my bra, a sudden thought of Rebecca undressing me brought a firmness to my nipples; as I removed my pants and panties that same thought brought a sudden dampness and tingling between my legs.
What was wrong with me? I was as horny as hell, over a woman. I had never experienced this before; it was driving me crazy.
I turned on the shower, my body tingling with need, and as I stepped under the water the touch of the spray on my skin made my nipples harder, my breasts ache. Without realising I was doing it, the fingers of one hand moved to caress my breasts, playing over my nipples, the nails dragging over them making me moan softly. My other hand slid down over my soft belly, teasing my curls, before dipping between my lips. God, I was so wet! I had to do something about this, or I wouldn’t get any sleep.
I relaxed and allowed my mind to take over, and suddenly she was there. Rebecca. Standing in front of me, those barely glimpsed breasts pressing against mine, dragging her nipples over mine, making me moan all the more. Her lips hovered over my own, barely touching, whispering to me. “You want me Danielle, I could see it in your eyes in the salon. I could see it while you were cutting my hair, I could feel it in your hands, while you were washing my hair, and when they touched my skin. You want me. What do you want me to do?” Her lips brushed me softly, but enough to send a shock of desire right through me.
“I…I…want…” I stammered, as I felt one hand replace mine on my breast and the other move down my skin to gently push my own away. Her fingers slid between my legs, caressing my lips. With a groan, I moved my legs further apart, bracing one hand on the shower wall. My mouth was dry, and as I licked over my lips, I felt her lips cover it and gently suck it into her mouth, her lips melding with mine, her tongue playing over mine.
“Oh god, please…I want…you… to…fuck me!”
No sooner had I said the words than I felt her fingers move and two of them slid easily into me. I was so wet, so aroused by this vision, that I could hardly believe it. Her tongue moved over mine, her lips sucked mine, her hand squeezed my breast, pulling on the nipple, and her fingers began to pump me with long, slow, deep strokes.
With a groan I began to move my hips against her fingers, meeting her thrusts. The tingles began at the base of my spine, the tightness deep in my pussy. I tore my mouth from hers as a cry welled up out of me. “God… Yes… Rebecca!!”
Her thumb moved to stroke my clit making me cry out again, and with a surge of my hips against her fingers, the orgasm rushed over me. Arching my back, I pressed my breast harder into her hand; my pussy clenched her fingers holding them inside me as my body shook and trembled with the power of the sensations.
I leaned against the shower wall, my body shaking still, breathing heavily with my fingers still buried inside me. I was stunned at the depth of the fantasy, of the images in my head, of the tremors still rippling through my body. I had just got myself off at the thought of being fucked by a woman!!
Shakily, I finished showering and dried myself off, moving slowly to my bed and climbing in.
Eventually I fell asleep. It was a strange sleep, filled with visions of a small woman with dark hair shot with grey; of a pair of green eyes that smiled into mine; of a soft voice saying my name.
For the rest of that week I was in a semi-daze. I used my work, which was thankfully busy, to distract me from the images and fantasies filling my head every time I stopped or rested, or slept. I was going crazy, fucking myself every night to images of her and the sound of her voice in my head.
On Friday the manager called me over to ask if I would be okay to do an ‘at-home’ session that evening for a client who had called. It was for a woman who was going to a big party, and wanted me to do her hair at home for her after she had dressed. This was part of the service we offered, and we have a few regulars who use it.
I had no plans for the evening, and I figured it would be a good distraction at the moment. I could definitely use a diversion, so I said yes. The manager gave me the address, saying that it wasn’t a regular. The bill was to be made out to the woman’s company, ‘Entertainment Inc., ‘ or some such thing. All I had to do was take görükle escort my own equipment as she had a room set up as a salon, complete with chair and work station. Sounded like this lady was well set up, and it might mean a generous tip.
That evening, I finished up my last client, took a quick shower in the back, and changed into a clean work uniform. Picking up my equipment case, I left for the address.
It was on the other side of town, easy to find, a big, classy place with a long driveway. To someone like me, who lived in a two-bedroom apartment, it looked like a mansion
Parking my car, I walked to the door and pushed the bell, noticing the well-kept grounds and very pleasant surroundings. ‘Nice,’ I thought. ‘Very nice.’
A maid opened the door. I told her I was from the salon, suddenly realizing I didn’t know the name of my client.
The maid smiled. “Please come in, madam is expecting you.”
She led the way and I followed her up a wide, curving staircase, and along corridors, until she ushered me into a small, but luxurious side room. It had been set up as a dressing room, complete with washbasin, mirror and a hydraulic chair.
I smiled. Impressive set up. Definitely loaded.
I set my bag down on a side table, took out my equipment and put it on the empty trolley standing beside the chair. Having time in hand now, I strolled around the room, taking in the expensive drapes, carpet, pictures, and the enormous walk in closets along one side of the room. Then I noticed an open door into adjoining room.
There wasn’t anyone around, so I decided to take a peek. ‘Wow! What a bedroom,’ I thought. It was enormous, bigger than my whole sitting room and kitchen. One wall was filled with windows, hung with rich, cream and gold drapes. In another wall there was an open fireplace, set with logs, and around that two very comfortable looking armchairs, each flanked by a small side table. On one table sat an ice bucket complete with bottle of champagne, and two glasses. The most remarkable part of the room was the huge four-poster bed. Dark wood pillars, and draped with the same fabric as the curtains.
I stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame taking it all in, and jumped when I heard a voice behind me. A voice I recognised instantly; it had been talking in my head day and night for the last 5 days.
“Do you like what you see?”
Holding my breath as I turned, I knew I would like what I would see. I would see Rebecca.
I turned around slowly, dreading and anticipating the moment when I’d look into her face.
“Yes, I do. Y-you’ve got a wonderful home.” I stammered, flinching inwardly at my halting speech.
“Thank you. I’ve worked hard.” Rebecca said with a smile.
My gaze flickered downwards, taking in Rebecca’s appearance. She was dressed in a bathrobe of the palest blue that was almost transparent. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a clip, and she looked quite at ease. I fervently wished I looked as calm as she appeared to be. I also tried to conceal my surprise. Normally, patrons are dressed when we go to their homes. They didn’t meet us in almost sheer robes! And not ones where you can make out the outline of their figure, and see the swell of their breasts along the neckline, and catch glimpses of their nipples standing proudly under the fabric, and see the colour difference!
I cleared my throat, stunned at the direction my thoughts had taken. What was wrong with me? I quickly looked back to her face, and saw the smile tugging the corners of her mouth. I smiled at her, and stepped behind the chair.
“Are you ready, Madame?” I said in an exaggerated accent, as I dipped into a curtsy.
“But of course.” Rebecca said, stepping and sitting delicately in the chair.
I removed the clip from her hair, and the damp strands fell to her shoulders. Grabbing the bottle of mousse, I applied a generous amount in my hands, and began smoothing it through the small woman’s tresses. She moaned at the feel of my hands on her scalp.
‘Oh God!’ I thought to myself. ‘She can’t do that! There’s no moaning!’
I wiped my hands off on a towel, and picked up the blow dryer, swallowing hard at the same time. Feeling a flush creep from my chest, I rolled my eyes at myself. I was acting like a teenager! A hormonal one at that; one that was aroused by the client in her chair!
I flipped on the dryer and sighed. It was going to be a long evening.
Little did I know Rebecca was looking at me from the corner of her eye through the mirror. I’d worn a mid-thigh black skirt, with slits on each side, black sandals, and a red button down shirt. My smock, which buttoned up, was thrown on over the top of it. I had the top two buttons undone as I always did and it would seem that Rebecca was taking her time getting to know my attire.
I turned the dryer off, laid it on the counter top. Grabbing the curling iron, I used a comb to part off sections as I curled them.
I’d just reached to do the side, when Rebecca spoke.
“Goodness, what a lovely bracelet.” Rebecca said, her fingers circling my wrist, holding it still while she inspected my diamond tennis bracelet.
“T-thank you.” I managed, while I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up from her touch.