I had made an appointment with my usual hairdresser for midday, as I would be meeting friends for lunch afterwards and thought that it would give me plenty of time to get to the restaurant for 1pm, the time we had arranged to meet. The hairdressing salon, where I have been going for a number of years, is unisex and is owned and run by a middle aged lady, who knows me as a regular client.
I am in my early forties and considered not unattractive to the opposite sex. My dark hair seems to grow quite quickly and as I like to keep it looking reasonably well groomed, so I visit the salon once every few weeks.
It was a beautiful warm July day, hardly a cloud to be seen; I was dressed smartly, but casual, in light cargo shorts and a short sleeved, button-up shirt. The restaurants around here aren't too fussy about dress code and we would probably be eating outside on the terrace as it was such a pleasantly warm day
There was a young lady behind the reception desk as I entered the salon, which was unusual, as I know the owner runs the salon herself. She looked up and smiled as I approached the desk.
"Hi," I said, "I have come for my 12 o'clock appointment for a trim, the name's Pete Blake."
"Ok, let me just check your booking," she replied, and looked down at the appointment book.
As I waited, listening to the usual music playing in the background, I looked more closely at her and could see she was quite attractive; slim, perhaps early twenties, hair shoulder length, light coloured, but with clearly professionally styled streaks of other light and dark colours mixed in. I watched her running her finger down the page and could see that her fingernails were also carefully manicured and then painted with straight lines across the ends, in a different colour to the main nail colour. She was leaning forwards and as I was standing and she seated, it afforded me small glimpse down the front of her loose top, just enough to see a small amount of cleavage and surmise that she had smallish breasts hiding under there...
"What do you think?" I suddenly heard her say, a bit louder than I thought necessary.
"Err... what about," I stuttered, feeling my face warming up and assuming she had caught me looking down her top.
"I asked you if you would mind me washing and cutting your hair today, as I qualified from college a few weeks ago and I would like to gain more experience," she said. "Don't worry, I have been cutting hair for a while and my aunt will be supervising me."
"Your aunt," I said, a bit stupidly, recovering a little from what I thought was going to be an embarrassing incident and a bit lost in this conversation.
At that moment the owner who had been finishing up with another customer came over.
"I'm sorry," she said, glaring a little at the girl, "I should have been the one to ask you first if Sarah could wash and cut your hair. There will be a small reduction to the normal charge of course, if you agree."
"Yes, it's fine," I said, glad to finally understand what was happening and that I hadn't been caught staring.
"Thank you," Sarah said, "please come this way, Mr. Blake."
She stood up and moved from behind the desk, heading towards the area where there were a couple of hair washbasins.
As she walked in front of me, I could see she was about five foot six, wearing a light, flowery skirt, that came just few inches above her knees, slip-on sandals on her feet, and her tanned legs were bare. Her hips moved from side to side as she walked, the thin skirt flicking this way and that, giving me tantalizing glimpses of more thigh.
She helped me into the back fastening coverall, sat me down with my back to the basin and positioned my head backwards over it, my neck in the basin cut-out.
I heard the water start as she got the temperature right, then she began to wet my hair, brushing her fingers through it to wet it thoroughly. There was a brief delay and then I felt her lather my hair with shampoo. It was very pleasant. Normally, her aunt takes only a minutes and then washes it off, but Sarah seemed to be giving me a head massage too.
"Mmm, that very relaxing," I said.
"They said at college that it helps to relax the scalp and makes the styling easier. I am not sure if it is true, but the customers seem to like it," she replied, with a smile in her voice, all the time gently moving her fingers all over my head, around my temples and through my hair.
"Well, I agree with that," I murmured, starting to feel that it was a little arousing having a young, attractive girl running her fingers through my hair in such a sensual way.
Just as I was letting my thoughts drift under her ministrations, the salon's 'phone rang out loudly. As Sarah had her hands covered in shampoo and was busy with me, her aunt answered it.