The bell rang as he pushed the door open. He was the only customer, unsurprisingly as it was late afternoon. Ravi, his usual barber, wasn't there. Nobody was, but there were interesting sounds coming from the door at the back of the wee shop. Then a face emerged, a rather flushed face:
-Sorry, I'll be with you in a minute.
-That's OK, no rush.
The sound of a tap running, then she appeared, drying her hands. Fairly tall, slim, sexy, maybe early thirties he guessed:
-Hello, I haven't seen you here before. Ravi's my usual barber. Not – smiling – that I mind he's not here today. Not often I get a woman to cut my hair.
Especially a gorgeous one like you, he thought.
She smiled back. With her eyes:
-I'm Linda. Ravi doesn't work Mondays, so if you come on a Monday it'll always be me. What can I do for you today, sir?
-I'm Sandy, none of the 'sir', please. Take a fair bit off, summer's finally arrived. Oh, and please don't leave it long over my bald patch: I am who I am, and don't try to disguise it.
He sat in the chair, watched in the mirror as Linda set to work. She smiled, liking his candour about the bald patch. Most men wanted theirs disguised, and she'd always thought that silly. They chatted as barber and client normally do. She had a five-year-old daughter who was starting primary school in August. It sounded as though she was a lone parent, but he didn't enquire. Her fingers were long and agile as they worked the scissors and electric razor. She moved from his back to his left side, squeezing close to the chair. So close that her jeans-clad groin pressed against his left arm on the armrest. He couldn't see that it was necessary for her to be so near to him. Then she bent over, and her tits brushed his shoulder.
Jesusfuck, was she coming on to him? He was thirty years older than her. He couldn't remember the last time a woman of her age had acted so suggestively with him.
-Want your eyebrows trimmed, Sandy?
She barely breathed the words. He nodded and she crouched before him, between his thighs, so he could see something of the unrestrained tits beneath her partly-unbuttoned white blouse. Her hands rose to his face to stroke his brows. And let him smell them. Recent soap, yes. And cuntscent lingering beneath it. His cock, already tumescent, rose sharply. Just as well he was wearing the barber's apron. He knew what she'd been doing in the back shop. The flush on her face...
His head was a confusion of thoughts and lust. He couldn't bring himself to say anything overt, just in case. He hated being knocked back, and he wanted to get to know this openly sexual barbergirl better.
She moved round to attend to the right side of his head. Again, her cunt pressed firmly against his arm, her tits occasionally brushing him. She took a lot longer to cut his hair than Ravi ever did. Finally she pronounced herself finished, and held a mirror to the sides and back of his head. Perfect: one of the best haircuts he'd ever had, and he told her so.
He was nervous about standing and losing the apron, but it had to be done. And he'd thought of a way forward with this provocative young woman. He was gratified when her eyes fell unashamedly to his crotch as the apron fell from him. She brushed him down, sensually he thought:
-There, that's you done si... Sandy. Anything more I can do for you?
She was looking directly in his eyes.
He fumbled for the money, tipping her more generously than he ever did Ravi:
-Um, I don't know... – he felt himself blushing – but maybe you can help me...
She cocked her head enquiringly, her entire face a smile. He looked directly in her eyes, knowing his nervousness was showing:
-Do you know anywhere I could get my genitals shaved? Not waxed, I think, I'm told that's painful, and I'm a wimp about pain... but shaved naked. I can only trim myself with my Remington, don't dare wetshave myself. But I've liked it when my partner does it. The process, and the results.
She smiled, appearing unflustered by his enquiry:
-Well! No customer has ever asked me that before! I'm sure there are places which provide that service... I'll find out for you. Your partner sounds an interesting woman – she is a woman, isn't she?
She giggled nervously, a wee-girl giggle.
-Aye, she's very much a woman. We just can't see each other very often.
-I'm here every Monday, and every Wednesday afternoon. If you can pop in Wednesday afternoon, I'll have an answer to your... enquiry.
She leant very close and stroked his arm.
-Um... thank you so much. I'll see you on Wednesday.
She held the door open for him and he walked out. It was five o'clock. He heard the lock click on the door behind him, and knew what she was going to do. He hurried home to do the same.
*****
For the next two days he couldn't get the woman out of his mind. On Wednesday he was rather more careful in his choice of clothes than usual. As if he was on a date. He hurried to the barber shop, timing himself to arrive about four-thirty.
When he entered the shop, Linda was attending to a customer, a good-looking guy in his forties. Sandy sat as if waiting for a haircut, watching closely whilst pretending to read the paper. There was no hint of the intimate contact she'd given him. Finally she was finished, and the guy left the shop. Linda locked the door and put up the 'Closed' sign. Looked at him carefully:
-I've found two answers to your question, Sandy. There are some places in the city offering the ... service you enquired about. From what I can gather, they're a bit sleazy. And expensive. I'm not sure they're the sort of places a gentleman like you would want to visit. Isn't it strange, because most of the places that cater for women are quite classy. I've used a few myself. I like being waxed... But there may be another choice for you, a better one I hope.
His heart was thumping as she spoke, and he felt his face flush:
-Uhuh, and what's the other choice? You're right, sleazy isn't my style.
It was her turn to blush, all over her face, down to the top of her tits. She was more provocatively dressed than she had been on Monday.
-Um... I could do you myself. I've done it before, but not on a professional basis. Couldn't do it here though, it would have to be your place. Do you live alone?
Jesus, he hadn't seen that one coming. His cock was throbbing: just as well he was wearing dress trousers. The erection would have been painful in jeans:
-Aye, I live alone when my partner's not around, and she'll not be here for a wee while. It'd be fine to do it at my place. But wouldn't that be a bit insecure for you? I mean, I'm not a rapist, but you don't know me, and only have my word for that.
-Och, I can handle myself. My karate's not bad... and I'll arrange for a friend to call me whilst I'm at your place. But I know you won't try anything with me: after all, I'll know where you live, if you want to proceed with this ... arrangement. My fee for shaving you is thirty quid.
His mouth had never been so dry, and he told her so, asking for a glass of water. She drew him into the back shop, poured from the tap, handed him the glass, brushing his fingers. Her face was delightfully enigmatic. Her fingers went to the buckle of his belt:
-There's one condition, before we arrange for your... treatment. I need to see what I'll be dealing with. Just professional interest...
Her fingers worked quickly. His trousers and briefs slid down his legs. She crouched before him. More deft fingerwork, and she licked the precum from her fingers:
-Umm. Aye. I might even enjoy shaving you here.
