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I have to admit that, when I first met Rae, I was a bit of a mess. I’d be avoiding a haircut for months by this point — to be honest, I had been avoiding pretty much everything that involved people since my fiancé had walked out on me on a sunny Thursday afternoon. I’d just sort of… let myself go. All those things you do when things seem normal — washing, working, grooming, dressing and eating healthily — suddenly felt empty and pointless. Computer games and junk food consumed me.
I lost my job within a couple of weeks and barely noticed. I didn’t have any living relatives, and what friends I had seemed to have sided with Chloe and stayed away. My phone was silent and my Facebook feed empty. I was alone, and thought I was quite happy that way.
After a few weeks of wallowing I received an email from an old colleague, Tim. He was setting up his own company and wondered if I wanted to come in to discuss a job opportunity, blah blah. I deleted it without thinking, and that was that until the mail arrived the next day.
Getting any post at all had become pretty rare, but that morning there were two items — a glossy colour flyer and a stern letter from my letting agency warning me that I was overdue on my rent and would be evicted in four weeks if I didn’t pay.
For some reason that broke through my miserable mindset. I could sink pretty low, but I wasn’t yet ready to be homeless. I immediately thought of the email from Tim, undeleted it, and within a couple of hours he had arranged a meeting for the next day — he wasn’t waiting around!
Feeling more positive than I had for weeks, I suddenly caught sight of myself in the bedroom mirror — and was horrified by the shaggy mess I had become. My hair flopped over my eyes and hung down my neck in lank tendrils, and I hadn’t shaved for weeks; I looked like I was already homeless, and was sure Nick would never hire me looking like that.
And that’s when I noticed the flyer lying on the coffee table. It was for a new salon which had just opened down the street and was offering 75 percent off haircuts all week. Even I could afford that!
I called, and was answered by a pleasant Australian woman who told me she was all booked up for the rest of the week. I can’t remember what I said, but I must have sounded pretty desperate at that point, and begged her to check again. She laughed and said no — she was sure. I was defeated — there would be no job and I would lose my flat. But then she said:
“You know, I could fit you in this evening after hours if you’re really desperate?”
I couldn’t thank her enough! She laughed, and booked me in for 8:30. Success!
The salon was large and airy, and seemed very quiet when the door closed behind me. I was greeted by the mingling scents of shampoo and bleach and something else — maybe nail polish? There was no one about, so I had time to take it all in as I waited at the reception desk. There were six comfortable-looking leather chairs in front of tall mirrors, each surrounded by an array of bright hair products, styling tools and hair dryers. The walls had been painted white, but then splattered violently with colours to give it a slightly grungy look. A sign pointed through a backroom door to “Treatment Rooms”. I wondered idly what sort of treatments they offered.
“Hey there! You must be Simon?” I turned, startled by the cheerful Australian voice behind me.
“Er — yeah. Hi!”
Rae wasn’t at all what I’d imagined. She wasn’t tall — perhaps 5’3″ or 5’4″ — but everything about her made an instant impression. Her long, platinum blond hair was streaked with blue and styled carefully to look messy and unkempt. Her skin was pale, and her lips were a deep red. She wore dark blue ripped jeans topped with a silver belt and a loose grey sleeveless top which had been artfully ripped to show just a little cleavage and quite a lot of her firm, flat stomach. Both arms were adorned with tattoos, some fresh and bright, others slightly faded. One in particular caught my eye — a devil-eyed fairy on her wrist, bending over in stockings to pick something up.
But it was her eyes that really captivated me. They were piercing, electric blue, surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner, dark eye shadow and heavily mascaraed eyelashes. Just for a second, for some inexplicable reason, I wondered what my eyes would look like made up in that way. Why had I thought that?
“So what are we doing today?”
I was already sat in one the chairs (definitely comfortable), and Rae was lifting my hair and running her fingers through it. I was glad I had washed it the day before.
“I’m not really sure,” I stuttered. I’ve never know the answer to that question. “I have an interview tomorrow, so I guess something short and neat?”
She frowned and ran her fingers through my hair again as if weighing it.
“No — I don’t think we’re going to do that,” she said with a smile.
“You have such lovely hair, and it’s just starting to get to a good length. It would be a crime maltepe escort to cut it all off now.”
She had a point — I had always had a thick head of straight chestnut hair, which I’d worn longer back in my early 20s. But I was 30 now, and I really needed to look professional. I needed that job!
“Thanks…” I stammered. “But I really need to look…”
“Professional, yeah I get that. But does anyone really care how long their employees hair is these days?”
Seeing I was about to object that yes, a lot of them do care, she changed tack.
“How about this — you let me give your hair some shape and texture, and if you still think it’s too long I’ll cut it as short as you want?”
That seemed fair, so I agreed (a little reluctantly) and she led me back to the treatment area, sat me down at a sink with a towel around my neck and began to wash my hair. Her fingers felt strong and gentle as they massaged my scalp, and I could smell her perfume as she leaned over me.
The experience was so sensual, and I felt my cock start to stiffen in my trousers. Worried that she might notice, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head in an effort to distract myself.
“So… I saw you have treatment rooms out back. What other sorts of treatments do you offer?”
Rae laughed. “What are you in the market for?” she asked mischievously. I didn’t know what to saw to that, and felt myself blushing. Stupid question! She didn’t seem to notice though, and went on:
“To be honest I see this as a holistic beauty augmentation salon — I know, that sounds pretty pretentious, but it’s sort of what I want it to be. I’m a trained stylist, colourist and beauty therapist, so that’s the basics covered. But I’m also a qualified piercer and a trainee tattoo artist, so I’ll be offering those services too. Along with some other things.”
“Oh wow — tattoos as well! Did you do your own tattoos? They’re amazing!”
She laughed again. “Thanks — but no way. That was my friend Katy. She has her own salon up in town — she’s been teaching me, but artists don’t usually do their own tattoos.”
I flushed again. “Sorry — stupid question!” I said it out loud this time.
“Not at all — I guess it’s not something you know about if you’re not in the scene. I’m guessing you don’t have any tats or piercings yourself?”
I shook my head, suddenly wishing I did.
Rae had rinsed my hair, and was wrapping a towel round my shoulders. She winked at me with those beautiful, dark eyes.
“Hey — perhaps I can persuade you to do something about that?”
I laughed nervously and shook my head, but as she was leading back to the main salon I thought: why wouldn’t I?
Back in the chair, Rae combed through my hair carefully, then took a bottle off a nearby shelf, squeezed a large blob of something thick and creamy into her hand and smoothed it through my hair. That was hot. Why was that hot?
Then she started combing the longer bits of my hair in different directions, creating neat sections which she wound up and secured in place with long clips. My scalp felt tight and was quickly becoming more and more sensitive to her touch.
“You really do have amazing hair!” she said as she worked. “Lots of my female customers would kill for locks like this.”
I smiled into the mirror, pleased at the compliment but unsure how to respond. She slipped a final clip into place and stood back with a critical look on her face.
“It’s just a shame about the colour,” she said.
For some reason, the fact that she didn’t find my hair perfect stung me.
“Oh yeah?” I tried to sound nonchalant.
She shook her head. “Oh, it’s nothing big. It’s just a little… mousy, I guess.” She took out her scissors and began trimming my neckline.
“I guess — if your were a female client — I’d be suggesting some changes. Like a few highlights. Or maybe a slightly more vibrant colour. Or, you know what — a glossing treatment to really give it some oomph.”
I laughed nervously. I had never dyed my hair before, even as a teenager — it had always felt a bit girly to me, even if my hair was a bit dull.
Rae seemed to sense that the topic made me uncomfortable, and changed the subject. We talked about movies and TV shows and music, and it turned out we liked a lot of the same things, especially bands and songs. We both hated the current “classic rock” revival, loved The Ramones, and were excited by Bully. The only real difference was that, while I listened from the comfort of my bedroom floor, Rae had travelled the world and seen hundreds of bands live, from grungy dive bars in Arizona to huge arenas in Berlin.
“I guess I’ve always thought of myself as a rock chick,” she said as she steered the scissors expertly above my ear. “I was even in a band, but I guess I decided that I like the look more than the music.”
“I really like your look,” I blurted. “It’s very cool!” Smooth. I felt my cheeks start to flush again.
She smiled though, and touched my arm. “Oh, mamak escort you’re cute to say. Thanks — I guess I’ve always liked looking a bit different. Who wants to be boring, am I right? Hey — check these out.”
She pushed her long, white hair back from her right ear, and I saw that it had been pierced in about a dozen places up the side with silver rings and studs. Her lobe had been stretched with a thick, tapered spike, and even the flap in front of her ear had a ring through it. But it was the top of her ear that was the most extraordinary — it had been swept back and shaped into an elegant point, like an elf from Lord of the Rings.
It was the first time I’d ever seen piercings like these up close, and definitely the first time I’d seen any body modifications. I’d always thought I’d find them weird and off-putting, but on Rae they looked… beautiful. More than beautiful — natural. As if she was supposed to look that way.
“Wow!” was all I could think to say. What was wrong with me? I tried desperately to think of something intelligent to say.
“Did they hurt?”
Dammit! “Sorry — I bet everyone asks that.”
She frowned and thought about it for a second. “I guess they hurt, but I always thought the pain was part of it, you know?”
I nodded, not knowing at all.
“Put it this way — you know how a really, really good orgasm can be pleasurable and painful at the same time? Well, it’s a bit like that. Better, really, because you have a physical reminder of the sensation at the end of it.”
I didn’t know where to look after that — my cheeks were burning, but Rae just carried on running her hands through my hair and snipping softly at the ends as if we were talking about the weather. I’d had long-term girlfriends who’d never described their orgasms to me, let alone a total stranger!
She changed the subject again, and after another half hour Rae declared herself almost finished.
“Just a little product, and we’re done!”
She grabbed a can from the shelf and fired a blast into her hand, releasing a ball of foamy mousse which she gently stroked through my hair, pulling it back from my face. Then she dried it and used some light styling paste to set it.
I had to admit, the style looked good! Rae hadn’t taken off much of the length on top, but she’d shortened and graded the sides and swept the front back. As promised, it was neat and definitely professional.
“So I guess we don’t need to go and shorter then?” Rae was smiling.
“No — it’s awesome! Thank you so much — you’ve really saved my life!”
She laughed again and took my credit card. “No worries — glad to help you out! Maybe next time we’ll go with something a little more adventurous?”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Depends what you have in mind!”
“That would be telling. I can think of a few things that would look good on you. But you’d have to trust me…” She winked as she handed back my card.
“Sure!” I said. “Why not?”
“Is that a promise?”
I nodded solemnly. “My word is my bond!” And in that moment I definitely meant it.
“Great — I’ll hold you to that! Hey — good luck with that interview, OK. I’ll see you soon!”
I waved and stepped back out into the darkened street, little realising how dramatically that haircut would change my life.
It was 2:30 in the afternoon when the text arrived and, to be honest, I barely looked at it. It wasn’t work-related and I was totally and utterly swamped, so I mentally filed it away and threw myself back into an long afternoon of deep client research.
So yeah — I’d nailed the interview. I turned up looking good and feeling better, and the formal meeting quickly turned into a long boozy lunch with Tim and his business partner. By that evening I was a Senior Account Manager for one of the city’s most exciting new communications agencies!
You’d have thought I’d be on top of the world, but to be honest I felt hopelessly out of my depth. For some reason, though, Tim had total faith in me and I really, really didn’t want to let him down. So, after three weeks, I was eating, sleeping and breathing client portfolios, pitch decks and new business meetings.
I had thought about Rae a few times, of course, though I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why. Sure, she had given me an awesome haircut, which had definitely boosted my confidence in the interview. And she was undeniably attractive as well, in an edgy, achingly-cool way. But there was something else as well — things Rae had said or done that had got under my skin and were quietly gnawing at me…
The next evening I got back to the flat long after dark and plopped down in front of the TV with a beer and pizza for a couple of hours of mindless distraction. After a couple of slices I got out my phone and was scrolling idly through my notifications when I spotted the text from the previous day. It started: “You have been selected…” so I nearly deleted it, but since I so rarely got any messages at all — ankara ofise gelen escort even spam — I opened it.
“You have been selected by Razor’s Edge Salon to receive 90% off all treatments for one year. (Ts&Cs apply) Call xxxx xxxxxx by 03/01 or miss out!”
It was from Rae! I checked the date on my phone — that was today! Without thinking, I pressed the number and listened as it rang. And rang.
She’d probably closed for the night. This was stupid — I’d only received the text the day before. What sort of treatments did I need anyw…
“Hello, Razor’s Edge Salon.”
A surge of adrenaline ran through me at the sound of Rae’s voice.
“Uh… hi. I got a message from you about a discount. It said to call by today or miss out…
“Oh, yeah great.”
There was a pause on the line.
“Can I take your name?”
My heart deflated in my chest. She didn’t recognise my voice!
“It’s, uh, Simon. Simon Finch.”
“Oh, hi Simon! How was the interview?”
“Uh, good thanks! Great in fact — I got the job!”
“That’s awesome! Looks like it’s your lucky month then.”
“I guess so. Thanks to you.” That was a weird thing to say!
She laughed. “You’re too sweet! Now, about this offer… It’s pretty generous as you can see, but because of that we have to stick pretty close to the terms and conditions. Do you think that’ll be OK?”
I answered without thinking: “I can’t see why not.”
“That’s great! We really need to get this signed today or the computer will cancel your offer and notify another winner first thing tomorrow. How quickly do you reckon you can make it down here?”
I was totally thrown now. “Do I really need to sign something? It’s just a discount, right? I mean, I don’t want to be ungrateful, but…”
“No, I get it it — it’s late, and you’re probably really busy…” Rae was trying to sound cheerful, but I thought I could hear a little disappointment in her voice. I looked down at the congealing pizza and the warm beer and immediately felt guilty.
“It’s just that it’s a really big discount, and I need to be sure whoever gets it will be like a brand ambassador for the salon. Not exactly rock and roll, I know, but I’ve been jerked around by clients before who just take the discount and then refuse to take part in any publicity. Plus…”
She suddenly sounded almost shy.
“…I’m really glad it’s you who won. Believe it or not, but I don’t really have much in common with a lot of my clients, and it would be nice to work with someone I actually like and can talk to…”
It was my turn to interrupt. “Of course — I’d be happy to help out! Give me 10 minutes and I’ll be there!”
“Are you serious? Oh, thanks Simon! See you in bit.”
Before I’d given myself a second to think, I’d tossed the pizza aside, grabbed my jacket and hurried out into the night.
Rae’s salon was the only shop on the street still lit. I pushed open the door and was greeted by that unique mix of chemical and floral smells. A band I didn’t know was playing on the sound system. Rae was sitting on one of the chairs in the waiting area with an iPad in her lap. The blue in her platinum hair was gone, and had been replaced with very fine neon pink and black streaks.
She smiled and stood up as I came in, and I could see her eye makeup was just as dark and sultry as the previous week, although she’d added some dark pink eyeshadow to match her hair, and her eyeliner had little upticks at the end. (Why had I noticed that? I never noticed women’s makeup!). She was wearing a loose, sheer black top, through which I could faintly see that her shoulders weren’t supporting any bra straps.
Rae gave me a brief hug, and I breathed in the scent of perfume and hair products. For some reason it was that smell, rather than the knowledge that she was braless, that aroused me more. As soon as we sat down, though, she was all business.
“Thanks for coming, Simon — this means so much to me! I’ve got the contract here — basically it guarantees you 90 percent off all the treatments and services we offer here for the next year. That includes any new services as well, so you’ll get your pick of everything going on in the salon. In return, you’ll agree to do a bit of publicity — be in some photos, some demos, write a few reviews for the site, etc etc. Does that all sound OK?”
I nodded, trying hard not to stare out the shadow of her breasts beneath her top. “Sure, absolutely…” I made a concerted effort to pull my attention back to the topic in hand.
“I just… are you sure you don’t want a girl? I mean, I’m totally happy to help out in any way I can. And I’m not exactly earning the big bucks, so I could really use a year’s worth of super cheap haircuts! It’s just that — I’m not exactly a model, am I?” I glanced down at my belly, which was gently curved under my t-shirt. I sucked in my cheeks and threw her my best selfie pout to illustrate my point.
Rae laughed and touched my shoulder. “Oh — no worries at all. The whole ethos of the salon is about expressing your true self — that’s just as true with men as it is with women. And as for your looks…” she looked me up and down with a sculpted eyebrow raised in mock critique, “I think you’ll scrub up just fine.” She winked one of those beautiful smoky eyes at me.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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