The Salon Assistant Part 3
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The Salon Assistant - Part 1 free porn video
I'd been sitting in the waiting area of the hairdresser's for almost
three hours but despite that my leg still hadn't stopped twitching
nervously. I'd spent most of that time staring at the floor or my grubby
Converse, although every now and again I couldn't help raising my gaze
when a new customer came in just in time to catch their quizzical
expressions or bemused stares.
Can't say that I really blamed them for that though as I wasn't the type
of sight that they'd normally see in an establishment with as much class
as Taylor's. This is a top-notch parlour, full of white furniture,
wooden floors, chrome and glass sinks and basins with top of the range
hairdressing equipment and dryers. If it sounds expensive, that's
because it is. It's also the type of place that advertised itself as
unisex but, in reality, the only males who came in through the door were
here to pick up their wives, girlfriends or were the boyfriends of the
two male stylists that worked here.
Despite the modern appearance though this salon wasn't on the cutting
edge (if you'll pardon the pun) of fashion. There was never any danger
of a woman leaving this place looking as if she'd been dragged through a
hedge backwards or had stuck her finger in an electric socket: even if
that was currently all the rage in the magazines or catwalks. No, what
this place specialised in was providing people with hairstyles that
actually suited them and making sure that when they left they were
looking their very best.
The entrance and waiting area were at street level, and a very busy
street it was at that. I'd certainly lost count of the number of times
that somebody had rapped on the window that afternoon to give me abuse
about my current hairdo....or lack of it to be more precise.
To get to where the magic happened though you had to climb up a few
stairs to a mini-mezzanine level that held ten hairdressing stations and
a manicure booth. I had accompanied my mum here this afternoon for her
appointment (bit of an embarrassing admission for an 18 year-old I'll
admit) but she had now been and gone and left me behind waiting for a
rare cancellation that would allow them to fit me in to their busy
afternoon.
Despite my restless leg and queasy stomach, I was no stranger to this
establishment, although the last time I was here was 3-4 years ago. My
mum used to bring my brother and I in to get our haircut while she got
her monthly trim and root treatment. The stylists really used to make a
fuss of both of us, but I'm not sure if this was because we were so
young or if it was just because we allowed them to keep their hands in
at cutting male styles.
I was especially fond of Becky, the owner of the place who, if I
remembered correctly, made much more of a fuss over me than she did my
brother because of my thick curly hair. I blushed every time that she
told me how lovely my hair was and how any girl would be proud to have
hair as thick and as curly as mine.
I had a massive crush on Becky at that time and this place is where I
can remember getting my first erection as she cut my hair. That was
definitely a WTF moment for me when that happened and certainly took me
by surprise. I can still feel the searing heat of my red face as I
realised what was happening. Surprising really that I had any blood left
to rush to my face given how raging hard I was at that time. On
reflection that was the moment that had set me on the road to where I
was now.
Anyway, I stopped coming here just before my fifteenth birthday when my
mother had declared that I was now old enough to look after my own hair
and allowed me to go to the barber shop unaccompanied. One look at me
today would let you know that was a mistake. I hadn't had my hair cut in
nearly three years.
For people with straight hair leaving it that long to get a cut usually
wouldn't be a problem, but for those of us afflicted by the curly haired
curse this is a major issue. If your hair is curly and you don't keep it
in check then, unfortunately, you accumulate volume not length. And I
had accumulated more volume than a Metallica concert. My hair collapsed
under its own weight and I had a shapeless, untamed explosion on my
head. So many people had told me that they thought they saw some birds
nesting in it that I had genuinely began to worry that a bird might land
in it when I was outside.
Try as I might though I just couldn't pluck up the courage to get it cut
up until now. Not after my first disastrous trip to the barber's on my
own. It was a traditional gents barber shop and from the moment that the
handsome Turkish barber draped the grey hairdressing cape round my neck
my member got hard and it stayed that way for the entire ten minutes he
was cutting my hair with the odd tremor every time that his hands pushed
my head gently to the right or left, back or forward as the cut
progressed. The entire experience came to a climax (almost literally)
when he buzzed the electric clippers round my ears and neck and it took
every ounce of self-control that I possessed at that time to stop the
dam from bursting.
Unfortunately, that self-control didn't extend to being able to reduce
the swelling in certain parts of my body and I was so convinced he
spotted my raging hard-on as I was paying that my face went beetroot red
and I couldn't get out of that place fast enough. As I was running down
the stairs I heard laughter and was convinced that it was about me. All
of this was just too much for my fifteen-year-old brain to compute and I
was so confused and disorientated by this experience that then and there
I vowed never to get my haircut again.
I didn't know it at the time but this decision had two benefits to it.
It gave me time to figure out exactly why this happened to me every time
I got my hair cut and also, given my unconventional appearance, meant
that I didn't fit into any group at school. This meant social death for
me and I was more or less left to my own devices for the next few years.
Ok, I was still a virgin, but at least it meant I had got some good
grades and was headed to university in a few months.
It was this potential for a new start that had finally brought me here
with my mother earlier this afternoon after much cajoling and pleading
from her. However after waiting for so long I was no longer sure that
this was such a good idea and, just as I was about to leave, Becky came
down from her station and said, "Stephen? Is that you Stephen?" I nodded
in confirmation that it was indeed me. "My goodness," she said, brushing
some of the hair off my forehead. "What have you done to your hair?"
"Just growing it," I mumbled. "Look, I'm really sorry but it doesn't
look as if we're going to be able to fit you in today. Saturday is our
busiest day unfortunately."
"No worries, I was eh....just going anyway. Wasn't even my idea to come
here. It's cool." Becky looked at my with a mixture of frustration and
pity and said, "Look, we're shut tomorrow but I'm going to be here doing
the month end accounts. Why don't you come in about just after one in
the afternoon and I'll see what I can do to sort out this mess for you?"
As she said that she took the opportunity to flick my hair with her hand
and shake her head.
"Eh, yeah, maybe. I'll check what I'm doing and if I can make it I'll
drop in," I said virtually tossing her offer of help back in her face.
"Okay, I might see you tomorrow then. If not no worries, I've got plenty
to be getting on with here." At that I mumbled my goodbyes and left.
After an extremely restless night and a morning that had seemed to take
an eternity to pass, I found myself standing outside Taylor's at about
12:30, a full thirty minutes before Becky had told me to show up. As I
stood there debating about whether to go away and come back in thirty
minutes or even just to go away completely destiny played its cards as
Becky emerged from the back of the shop and saw me standing outside.
I hadn't noticed yesterday, probably due to the nerves and my
pathological desire to avoid making eye contact with anyone, but her
hair had changed since the last time I had been here. She was in her
early forties and like a lot of women of that age had decided to go for
a shorter hairstyle.
For Becky though the shorter style really suited her. Her brown hair was
really short at the back and sides, exposing the nape of her long,
elegant neck, and on top she had long, beautifully crafted curls that
tumbled over her forehead and were swept to one side, just above her
left eye. I later found out that this style she was sporting was a pixie
style with a shaved undercut.
Becky wasn't wearing much make-up, had on just a plain white shirt and
some jeans and trainers but I really couldn't take my eyes off her. She
wasn't beautiful in the conventional sense of the word, but there was no
doubt that she was striking. This was a woman that had made the most out
of every natural feature that she had and there was something incredibly
appealing to me about that. She wasn't born attractive, she had made
herself that way.
This brief period of reflection was brought to a close by the sound of
the lock on the salon door opening and I was greeted by, "Hope you
haven't been standing out there too long? You'll get this shop a bad
reputation with a hair don't like that." This was quickly followed by a
brief smile to indicate that she was just joking. "Well, come in if
you're coming in then?"
"Oh, okay. Sorry," I stammered.
"Here, give me your jacket and go and take a seat in front of the first
mirror up there." As I walked towards it I heard Becky locking the door
behind me. This was obviously just a Sunday precaution to stop any
passing trade from dropping in but somehow it seemed to resonate a bit
deeper than that for me.
"I'm just finishing off my lunch. Do you want a tea or coffee?"
"Eh, no, I'm ok thanks," I said wincing uncomfortably as I caught a
glance of myself in the mirror.
"Not a pretty sight, eh?" Becky said as she noticed my discomfort at my
reflection. "Don't worry, I'll soon sort that out."
After taking the final bite from her sandwich and washing it down with
some tea Becky announced, "Right, let the trimmer see the hedge," to
which I immediately blushed. Becky grabbed one of the hairdressing capes
from the stand and approached me. I knew that this was the moment of
truth. She shook out the cape and swooshed it around me as I sat in the
chair and fastened it at the back of my neck. This was the moment, this
is what had caused me so much discomfort on my last trip to the
barber's.
As my hands disappeared under that soft and flimsy piece of nylon I felt
helpless, powerless.....and I absolutely loved it. I had now surrendered
control to the person wielding the scissors and it felt truly wonderful.
So much so that, right on cue, my penis immediately shot to attention.
Stuck underneath this cape it felt as if I was being subjected to the
most gentle, most subtle form of bondage and domination and it felt
truly amazing. Becky could do anything to my hair now and this thin
piece of nylon was all that she needed to restrain me.
I was woken from this quiet reverie by a tugging sensation on my scalp.
"Ouch!" I cried. "When was the last time you combed this mess?" Becky
chided me.
"This morning," I rather unconvincingly replied as she kept pulling and
tugging at my scalp.
"It's got more knots in it than a scout master's rope. Might be better
just shaving it all off and start again."
"That's ok for me," I said.
"Yes, but not for me," Becky said under her breath. "Look, I'm just
going to cut all of these tugs and knots out of your hair and then we
can see what we're left with."
At that large clumps of my hair started falling to the floor or onto the
hairdressing cape with every shear of the scissors. It was only then
that I noticed that the cape she was using on me wasn't one of the
standard, stylish black capes that the customers were wrapped in
yesterday when I was sitting in the waiting area. This was an electric
pink one that had the words Princess, Barbie, Frozen and Cinderella on
it. Had Becky accidentally wrapped me in a cape they use when cutting
the hair of little girls? I blushed with embarrassment.
As she hacked her way through the undergrowth Becky started to engage me
in conversation. "So, what age are you now Stephen?"
"Eighteen," I replied.
"Just left school then? What are you going to do now?" Becky asked.
"Eh, I'm going to Uni to study Accountancy."
"That's a few months away though. What are you going to do until then?
You going to get yourself a job?"
"Eh, not sure Becky. I might get a weekend job to get a bit of extra
cash."
"Good, then you'll be able to treat your girlfriend to the cinema or a
pizza," she said knowing full well that looking the way I did when I
came through the door that there was no way I had a girlfriend. I
blushed at this question and she smirked and went on to say, "No
girlfriend? Boyfriend then?"
"What? No, I'm not...." My face turned bright red with embarrassment and
penis twitched in discomfort as it became apparent that she was enjoying
making me squirm.
"Right, looks like I've got rid of all of those snags and knots so let's
see what we've got to work with." She started to comb out my hair and as
I looked up into the mirror I was now sporting the hairstyle of a
twelve-year-old that had decided to cut their own hair. It looked
lopsided and uneven and, to my eyes anyway, as if it would be impossible
to fashion anything remotely presentable out of this mess. Becky seemed
to be unfazed though and she grabbed her water bottle and started to
spray my hair to make it damp enough to start styling.
As she was doing this, and to take my mind off the raging hard-on that
was literally poking Barbie in the "I" I thought I'd try and turn the
tables on Becky and start to ask her some personal questions. "So, how
come you're not married yet then Becky?"
"How do you know I'm not married?" she replied.
"Eh....eh...no wedding ring."
"Been checking me out have you?"
My face turned crimson red and I sputtered, "What? No. sorry....I
mean....no....sorry," immediately regretting starting this line of
conversation.
"No, if you must know Mr Nosey there's no husband or boyfriend. I'm like
Bridget Jones, only with a better lingerie drawer."
"That's crazy, you're gorgeous. The men of this city must be blind," I
said.
"That's very kind of you but I'm single through choice right now. You
see, I'm a bit of a cougar." I'd become familiar with this term after
flicking through all of those women's magazines during the long wait
yesterday, but even knowing what that meant I was still stunned that
someone like Becky was on her own.
"But surely somebody like you would have the young men lining round the
block?"
"Are you sure you're not hitting on me sweetie?" she said and I blushed
furiously. She smiled seeing the discomfort that she had caused me and
went on to explain, "Yes, sadly you're right, there is no shortage of
young men out there looking for someone like me. However I'm quite
selective and any young man that I'm going to have a relationship with
needs to have something a little bit special about them."
"I'm sure you'll find someone," I reassured her.
"Oh so am I. In fact I've got my eye on somebody that might just have
what I'm looking for. He's showing promise but we'll just need to wait
and see." And that was the end of the small talk as my hair had become
saturated by the bottle spray and Becky now turned her full attention to
the cut.
After about ten or fifteen minutes of cutting and snipping I started to
feel the air against my neck and ears so it was clear that Becky was
going for something a bit shorter. Having said that a quick glance in
the mirror made it apparent that she had left a reasonable length on top
so I was sure that whatever I was going to end up with it would be
extremely stylish. After another ten minutes of snipping and Becky's
beautifully manicured hands moving my head this way and that, and the
tingling sensation this gave me every time she did this, I heard the
buzzing noise of the hair clippers. She pushed my head forward so that I
was staring straight at the pink cape I was wearing and started to run
the clippers up and down the back of my head and round the side of my
ears. After several minutes of this Becky then took a set of mini
clippers to get a more detailed and refined finish at the nape of my
neck and round my ears. This was starting to look like a short-back-and-
sides I was getting here. Once she had finished with the clippers Becky
announced that it was time to dry what was left of my hair.
Becky got her handheld hairdryer and, as she called it, her styling
brush and immediately started to take long sweeps through my hair as she
applied the heat of the hairdryer to it. I wasn't sure but this seemed
to me a bit more than just drying the hair.
This was feeling a bit strange but I felt helpless to stop what was
happening and the still throbbing erection under the hairdressing cape
was an indication that the experience wasn't entirely objectionable.
After about ten minutes of drying and brushing Becky turned off the
hairdryer and told me to shut my eyes. As I did this I heard the sound
of an aerosol being liberally sprayed and the unmistakeable smell of
hairspray filled the air. Did men wear hairspray I thought to myself. No
sooner had this thought left me though I could hear Becky letting out a
sigh.
"Hmmmm, it's still not right. Keep your eyes shut for me sweetheart will
you?" I of course did what I was told and immediately started to feel
Becky come closer to me followed by some pulling and prodding above my
right eye. I let out a cry of pain as I felt something being pulled out
of my skin. "Oh don't be such a girl," Becky admonished. I soon started
to feel the same sensations above my left eye but this time I gritted my
teeth and was determined not to let her know that this was just as sore
as the right one. Anyway, after about five minutes of this torture Becky
finally announced that she was finished and sounded pretty happy with
her handiwork.
"What do you think?" she asked as she held the mirror to the back of my
head. I looked straight ahead not knowing what to say. This haircut
definitely wasn't what I was expecting, but it had a familiar look to
it. Becky then placed her head next to mine and looking straight at my
reflection in the mirror asked, "What's up, cat got your tongue?" It was
only then that my hair was cut in an almost identical style to hers,
apart from the highlights of course.
"it's a bit more....eh....girly than I thought it was going to be."
"Don't be silly," she said. "I think it looks great, even if I say so
myself."
The praise caused my penis to throb slightly and it was only when Becky
was brushing the removed hair from the hairdressing cape that I noticed
my eyebrows. What had happened here? They were looking....groomed.
As I noticed this I started to move my head to the right and left to get
a better look at the new me.
Becky noticed this and said, "Looks like someone is starting to like
their new look."
"What, no....I don't know....I'm not sure." My throbbing penis was
telling a different story.
As I stood up and got out of the chair, and doing my very best to try
and conceal my throbbing erection, Becky threw her arms around me.
"Congratulations sweetie, you've got the job."
"What? Wait...what job?" I stammered.
"You're my new salon assistant."
"Salon assistant?" I murmured.
Becky smiled and handed me a sweeping brush. "And your first task is to
get all of that horrible boy hair off my nice floor." After a brief
pause I started sweeping and wondering where this was going to end.
Bess
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