Joint hanging from her lips, she bent down to pick up two wine glasses from the floor. In denim hot-pants, the full length of her radiant, tanned legs was visible. Her ginger bob was ruffled, part of it swung down over her eyes nearly touching the end of the joint. She brushed it behind her ear with her free hand. The glasses clinked. The room was hazy from smoke.
I'd always got on better with girls than with other boys my age, and since I'd met Jenny at college two years before, we'd been best friends. No one could believe we weren't having sex and we enjoyed playing up to them- holding hands and whispering in public, she often called me 'baby' and I called her 'Pixie'. A name which reflected her facial features, and light stature. At twenty she looked young for her age. I thought she was beautiful and she often called me handsome but we had strict rules against any kind of sexual contact with each other. We both knew that would be emotional suicide.
"I really need to get laid tonight" she complained, standing up, taking the joint from her lips. "You will" I idly indulged her. Normally I'd scold her for making herself so 'available' but tonight we both had Valentines dates and my objectives were the same as hers! Besides, all the smoke I'd passively inhaled was making my eyelids heavy and I was in no mood for disagreement. She collapsed onto the settee next to me. The soft, bare skin of her arm rubbed against mine. She put the joint back in her mouth and reached down for the wine bottle on the floor between us. Holding both glasses precariously in one hand she filled them too full, spilling a few drops on her leg. She didn't seem to notice and I watched as a droplet succumbed to gravity and slid down over her inner thigh into the shadow of her shorts.
"Are you ready for tonight then?" She purred nonchalantly. I only had one hour to go and I intended to go out in the t-shirt and jeans I had on. I made some lazy, stoned indication to this effect. She took a deep drag and then exhaled, shaking her head, making the smoke dance around her pretty face and dishevelled hair
"Scruffy bastard!" This sent us both into fits of giggles. She had a point, but I'd met my date in a heavy metal bar so she couldn't be expecting anything too upmarket. I was slumped back into the soft cushions of the settee, my chin nearly resting on my chest. It seemed like slow motion when she twisted herself round to face me, placed both her hands on my leg and leaned towards me putting her face close to mine. I sensed her small breasts were peering at me from within the smiling aperture of her vest top and I resisted the invisible force that pulled my gaze down towards them. She held my eye contact and said in a half whisper "You are nicely trimmed and clipped, down there, aren't you?" I lost my battle with the invisible force and glanced down. She must have noticed. The mischievous look in her eye was very familiar to me but her words were disconcerting. "What are you on about" I said defensively.
"Well, if you're hoping to get some action tonight you ought to think about what the poor girl might come up against. You wouldn't expect to have to go down on someone who looked like they were giving birth to a yetti. Why do men assume that the rules don't apply to them!?" This kind of tirade was typical. There wasn't much point arguing and anyway, although I was quite confident with girls I didn't have much experience. I needed all the help I could get. In my defence I said
"I don't have much body hair"
"I know" she answered cocking her head sideways and thinking. A fire was igniting in her eyes "Show me your pubes!" she ordered. I protested weakly, but once she latched on to something it was almost impossible to resist her demands.
"Show me your pubes!" she repeated.
Embarrassed, I undid my belt and pulled the front of my jeans down just enough to expose the top of my pubic hair. A tangled, straw-coloured bundle sprung forth. Her eyes widened before she collapsed into fits of laughter. Leaning back and pointing to the offending region she struggled between laughs to inform me "That has got to go!"
I hoped I wasn't a red as I felt. My confidence about my swift approaching date was draining away.
"But I've got no clippers or anything"
"You can use my scissors"
"I'll probably make a mess of it." I complained after thinking for a second. I'd already had a bottle of wine. She sprung to her feet and with an outstretched hand she ordered
"Come with me." I felt myself being pulled like a stubborn child across the floor of her flat and into her small, disorganised bathroom, my belt still hanging undone jingled as I walked. She turned towards me. From somewhere she had produced a shiny pair of hair cutting scissors. It seemed like slow motion again as she placed her hand on my chest to steady herself and began to sink to her knees. I was silent, in awe of the commanding efficiency of my tiny, troubled and beautiful little pixie. Her head was level with my crotch. She tugged the top of my jeans down to expose my pubes. I nervously held on to the waste band preventing her from pulling them down further. After she had suppressed a laugh by placing her hand over her mouth she began to snip away large chunks of hair with one hand, catching them in the other so they didn't fall inside my pants and reaching up to throw the liberated clumps into the sink behind me.
The scent of luxurious shampoos and shower-gels, put me on edge slightly and the touch of her cold fingers brushing against my lower belly sent electric shocks up and down my spine. She always pouted slightly when she was concentrating hard on something, which made her young lips look slightly slutty. Her long eyelashes blinked occasionally as she continued reaching up to the sink to expel the tufts of hair.
After a couple of minutes the exposed hair was neatly cropped.