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My Life With A Muscular CheerleaderChapter 9 free porn video
When we returned home, we set up a temporary apartment in Patti's parents' house. Although there was plenty of room for us all, the plan was that we would find an apartment of our own and move out as soon as possible. This was both for their sanity and ours. After several weeks of searching, mostly on weekends, we hadn't found anything that was both affordable and that satisfied our basic needs.
"Bill, maybe we've been going about this all wrong. I've been working towards the goal of opening my own shop someday. You've said that your parents still have money set aside that had been intended for your college tuition. Why don't we see if they would be willing to lend us the money for the down payment on a building? That would kill two birds with one stone. There are many buildings downtown that have a retail business on the first floor and an apartment on the second. If we can find one of those, and we can afford the payments, I can open my shop and we can live above it."
"Patti, that's taking an awfully big risk, don't you think?"
My conservative nature was coming forth.
"I've been thinking about this since before we got married. Even on our honeymoon, while I was working on my tan I was planning the theme of the shop, who my clientele were going to be, and how best to attract customers. Listen to my plans for the shop and you tell me."
Intrigued, I let her continue.
"One evening about a week before the wedding, I was watching TV and a car commercial came on. I forget what kind of car it was about, but it was the way they got my attention that intrigued me. They showed the car in a showroom setting, but the most prominent eye-catching thing about the scene was the absolutely gorgeous model that was practically making love to the car. The spot just reeked of sexuality. That's when it came to me, sex sells, and it can sell just about anything; especially to an over-hormoned young adult male. If it can work for a car commercial, why couldn't it work for a barber shop?"
Now she had my full attention.
"I checked around; the only barbershops within thirty miles of here are Vinnie's downtown, and the one in the shopping mall in Joliot. Most of the guys from school traveled to the shop in Joliot to get their haircuts. Vinnie, the barber here in town is sixty-five years old; most of his customers are older than he is. If I can open a shop that appeals to the guys in the high school, and to the young adults and business people in the area, I can capture a lot of the local trade; more than enough to earn a good living."
"But you'd have to be careful not to go overboard on the sex appeal. You know this town; they're pretty old fashioned and prudish when it comes to sex."
"I considered that. I'd have three, maybe four, hair stylists, myself included. All would be attractive young women; not scantily clad, but dressed to get the attention of any guy who has a pulse. I'm thinking hip hugging jeans and tight tee shirt, something with the shop's name and number on the back, would be the uniform of the shop. I'd give the girls pretty much free reign as to how much or how little they wanted to entice their customers. There'd be no nudity, no touching the girls and only the contact with the customers would be the occasional rubbing of breast on the arm or shoulder during the course of doing their job. We'd have a TV mounted high over the chairs, tuned to the sporting events and when none were available, we'd have current rock music playing. The décor in the shop would feature all sport-related items pertaining to the regional high school, the local colleges and the pro teams from Chicago."
"How much do you think it would cost to set up a shop like that?"
"The work stations are the most expensive part of the shop. I'd figure close to $5,000 a station and another $10,000 for the rest of the furniture, fixtures, equipment and décor. We'd have to do most of the clean out and the prep work ourselves, but I figure we can get the whole shop set up for a little over $30,000."
"How much income could you generate?"
"In the beginning, it would be me full-time, and maybe one other stylist part-time. Depending on how quickly the business grows, I can add more as needed. Based on a $12 haircut, a good stylist can generate about $300 - $360 per day; tips of course not included. You can add about $90 a day to that total for tips ... The shop gets half of the business generated by each stylist; they of course get to keep their tips."
"So, in the beginning you figure on average to clear about $400 per day and could potentially grow to a maximum of about $800 a day before expenses and debt service."
"That's what I figure. The expenses are minimal; electric, water, insurance, payroll taxes and supplies are the biggest expenses, with some occasional repairs and maintenance thrown in as well. I also plan on selling high-end hair-related products, such as shampoos, conditioners and styling products."
"At lunch tomorrow I'll run the numbers and come up with the financial portion of the business plan. I want you to write up the marketing and business strategy. We can put a package together for our parents and for the bank. Then we can start looking for a building."
Our love making that night was intense, fueled by the excitement generated by our future endeavor.
I was shocked the next day when I ran the numbers. Even using a more conservative number for income and padding additional amounts for expenses, the shop would generate in the first year about $4,000 a month for debt service; more than enough to cover the acquisition of a building and any term loan for set up costs. Now all we had to do was find a building.
Sometimes you just get lucky I guess. Two weeks after we had our discussions with our parents, a building came up for sale in the older part of town. It was a corner property built at the turn of the century. The first floor had been a convenience store, selling candy, newspaper, cigarettes and lottery tickets; the second floor was an apartment. There was a full basement and attic for storage, and best of all, the back yard had been converted into a parking lot with space available for six cars. Because the front of the building faced New Lenox Avenue, the side of the building ran along a residential side street, which allowed for easy access to the parking lot. The owner of the building had lived all of his life above the family store that his father had started. Now, at the age of seventy-five, he decided that he'd had enough and was going to retire in Florida.
The real estate agent took us to the building. We walked around the property. Although it was old and needed a paint job, the outside of the building seemed to be in pretty good shape. Entering the first floor shop was like traveling back in time. The store fixtures were ancient, the walls were a dingy pale green, and the floor consisted of wide planks of oak and must have been the original flooring. Although it was in desperate need of refinishing, the floor seemed surprising solid. There was a small bathroom on the alley side of the building. At the rear of the store was a door to the staircases; one that led upstairs to the second floor, and one that led to the basement below. We climbed the staircase to the apartment above, noting that there appeared to be enough room to bring furniture to the second floor, provided that the furniture wasn't too big and bulky. Upon entering the apartment it was clear that nothing had been done to modernize the kitchen. The stove was small, the linoleum floor was cracked and peeling, and the bathroom was as dated as the one downstairs. An old claw foot free-standing tub with a shower curtain dominated the room. The next room we encountered was a large living room, and finally, in the front of the house, was the only bedroom. It was relatively large; a single light bulb hung on a cord from the center of the ceiling. This place was going to take a lot of work to bring it up to the standards we were accustomed to.
Going down to the basement was a pleasant surprise; the space was relatively clean and free of clutter. Two modern boilers were attached to the chimney and a modern water heater stood nearby. Apparently there must have been a problem with the old mechanicals and the owner had been forced to install all new equipment. The floor joists for the shop above were massive hand-honed six-by-eight timbers; no wonder the floor had seemed solid. All in all the building would suit our needs just fine.
The real estate agent told us that the building had just come on to the market and that at $250,000 was priced to sell quickly. He suggested that we offer the asking price and push for a fast closing. I pulled out my hand held calculator and after several minutes of calculations figured that with 10% down and over thirty years, with an interest rate of nearly 15.75% the debt service would run about $3,000 a month. That left about a thousand dollars a month for taxes and building insurance, which I figured was more than enough.
We signed the offer sheet and drove home to tell our parents the news. Everything was going as planned. That evening we celebrated our good fortune with another marathon love-making session.
Two days later we received a call from the real estate agent; the owner had accepted our offer and had agreed to let us begin cleaning out the building on the basis that if we didn't get our mortgage approval, all improvements made to the property would revert to him. The next morning, contract in hand, along with a copy of my pay stub and our business plan, we met with a friend of Patti's father who worked in the mortgage department of the local savings and loan. Not only was he impressed with the business plan itself, he also said that he was impressed with our overall presentation. After several hours of questions and preparation we signed and submitted a mortgage application which was immediately pre-approved. That meant that he was convinced that it was a sound business move to lend us the money; now the bank's mortgage committee had to approve the loan. That, he said, would take about two weeks. The approval process would be fast-tracked because the property was local and there had only been one owner, the family being one of the original settlers in the area was well known.
That weekend we started the process of cleaning out the first floor; that being the most critical part of the building. We threw out most of the junk, and were able to sell several of the old store fixtures. We kept one of the smaller display cabinets and the old manual cash register, both of which we planned to place right next to the front door. We figured to replace the old drop ceiling, but when Patti pulled back one of the filthy old tiles she shouted with joy.
"Bill, you're not going to believe this. Above this drop ceiling is an old tin ceiling. From what I can see it looks to be in pretty good shape."
We removed all of the old tiles and sure enough, there about two feet above the framework was the original sheet-metal ceiling; each tile had been hammered by hand with an intricate geometric design. All it needed was a good cleaning and to remove the screws that held the wires for the drop ceiling. The old owner had even left the original gaslight fixtures. I believed with a little TLC they could be cleaned up and electrified for modern lights. We had several contractors come in to give us estimates for installing four workstations along the wall that ran along the side street. The opposite wall would be for customer seating while they waited. The bathroom on that wall would be expanded and new fixtures installed. A small coffee and lunch nook would be added along the same wall. Both rooms would be hidden from the rest of the shop. There would be a door into a tiny vestibule, turn left and you were facing the door to the bathroom; turn right and you were looking into the lunch and coffee nook. The last of the workstations would be located in the rear of the shop, separated from the three others by a wall with a large arched entrance. This workstation would be used for hair coloring, which takes longer and requires long periods of waiting between steps. A separate exhaust fan would be installed to pull the unpleasant fumes from the process out of the shop, minimizing the effect on the other customers. The separate workstation would also allow the stylist to leave that customer and work on another customer, minimizing the down time. Patti asked that the two windows on the street side be moved so that they fell between each of the first three workstations, thus allowing for natural lighting and airflow.
When we had done as much as we could down stairs we started on the upstairs apartment. There wasn't much we could do with the layout of the rooms; the building was too narrow for anything more than a railroad layout. The old owner had already removed anything that was of value to him, meaning that everything left behind was basically junk. From the kitchen we removed the old stove, an old forties-style kitchen table and four chairs, the forty plus year old refrigerator, whose tiny icebox was frozen over with about six inches of ice, and finally we scraped up the old flooring. The flooring below was old but solid and would provide a good base for a new ceramic tile floor.
In the bathroom, nothing could be saved. Due to the lack of work in the area, a local plumber gave us a good price on remodeling the entire bathroom; updating the fixtures, placing the bath -tub on the side wall, and moving the door so that you entered the room in the center. On the opposite wall was a window that had been hidden by the bathtub curtain, the bathtub was on the right and the toilet and sink were on the left. He would take an additional two hundred dollars off his price if he could have all of the old fixtures. He said he knew a guy who could refinish them.
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- 02.05.2020
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