They always seem to know exactly what you want don’t they, the good ones? Hairdressers, that is. I prefer mine to be male. Gay, straight, that doesn’t matter. Or it hasn’t until now. Marcus was an enigma. Hard to tell which way he played it. He worked out, that was clear from the tight pink T-shirt highlighting the abs and biceps. And he was well-groomed. But wasn’t almost every man a bit metrosexual these days? Sean, my ex, certainly had been. I’d popped in, just for a consultation, on the off-chance they could give me a new look. He’d offered me five minutes; that was all he had time for right then. I could make an appointment if we could agree on a style, he said.
‘So, you’re looking for a complete change? Drop the uber-babe look. Let’s aim for uber-bitch instead?’
He was running his fingers through my smooth blonde hair. I shivered as he rested his hands on my shoulders. It was as though he knew. Like he had some kind of weird sixth sense. Uber-babe had suited me whilst Sean and I had been together. In fact he encouraged, almost demanded it – a trim, blonde version of himself. A trophy girlfriend to show off and be proud of, publicly, at least. But uber-bitch would suit me so much more, right now.
‘I can fit you in later, say sevenish?’
I was surprised, expecting the salon to be closed by then. But I nodded. I had an appointment later that evening, but sevenish would be fine.
‘It’ll be just me by then,’ he said. ‘And my … partner, Monique. We offer a complete package. You could call it pampering.’
Pampering sounded good to me. He nodded in the direction of the woman at the far end of the salon. Long black hair, pale skin, sharp chin, no smile. Tiny waist, round hips. His partner, he said. I wondered. She looked like a right ice maiden.
‘She’ll be in charge of your colour. It will be red. A vibrant, cherry red.’ It was as though I had little say in the matter. As if I wasn’t the customer? He smiled as he led me to the door, pressing his hand in the small of my back. Another shiver.
‘See you later, Clara.’
‘Yes,’ I replied. I was quite happy with that. I thought Marcus and Monique could help me renew myself.
I was back before seven. The blinds were half-closed, and only the rear of the salon was lit. I wondered if we were visible to passers-by. Marcus showed me to a seat facing a mirror. I watched his reflection. He made a quick phone call, then pulled scissors, a brush and a comb from a concealed space. I hoped I wasn’t rushing him. I rarely run late. That had always been one of the problems between me and Sean. And had, ultimately, been our downfall. He expected everyone else to run to his timetable. And he never learnt. So maybe he wasn’t expecting me home that day from work, not right then, like he claimed afterwards. I’d heard giggles as I dropped my handbag in the hallway. All I wanted to do was flop on the sofa with a large glass of red wine and work my way towards a nice slow fuck once I’d wound down. The last thing I wanted to hear was women’s voices coming from the bedroom. I tiptoed down the hallway and listened outside the door for a while, quite certain I wouldn’t hear anything to my advantage. Eavesdroppers rarely do.
Sean was groaning. And I heard one woman laugh, another cajole.
‘Come on, Sean,’ the cajoler was saying. ‘Fuck me. She’s had her fun. It’s my turn. And won’t that bitch of yours be home soon?’
Laughter from the other one.
Looking back, with some sense of perspective and a firmer grip on reality than I had at the time, I knew he wanted me to find them, but never had any intention of inviting me to join in. Bastard. But still, I don’t think he was planning for it all to be over between us. I think he was just showing off, to them and me. And I was mighty disappointed. If I’d known I’d have been up for it, especially with those two. It wasn’t just Sean who liked no-strings-attached fucking. Nor was it just him who was curious, liked a bit of experimentation. I just didn’t want to come home after a long day and find someone else enjoying my boyfriend, with no option or invitation to join in.
And it was also the element of complete surprise that got me. I like feeling in control of a situation. And Sean had disappointed me. There’d been no signs that anything was wrong between us up until now. We fucked often, and, I thought, to each other’s mutual satisfaction. We communicated as well as any couple. We could have planned this together. When we fought our reconciliations left us panting and glistening. But obviously that just hadn’t been enough.
I opened our bedroom door. The curtains were drawn, so it was hard to untangle the three sets of limbs immediately. I thought Sean was sitting in our leather armchair. Slowly it became clearer, and I’d been right. He was sitting there. With a woman grinding away on his lap, and a second sitting on the arm, kissing Sean and cupping the other woman’s full breast, twisting and turning her nipple between her finger and forefinger. My stomach tightened. I loved fucking right there, and I loved my breasts being played with. I could have stayed there and watched. I could feel myself moisten and there was a tingle between my thighs. He’d certainly chosen a couple of fine-figured women to play with. And I liked looking at women’s bodies as much as men’s. On the whole, they’re far more sensual.
‘Clara,’ he grinned. ‘Welcome home. We’re nearly done.’
‘Glass of wine, Clara? White or red?’
Monique’s voice broke right into my reminiscence. Her voice was cool, off-hand.
‘Red, please.’ That was one of my last memories of that day, picking up a full glass of red wine and throwing it in Sean’s face. And it was also the last time we’d seen each other. We’d spoken, of course, to sort out the practicalities, but we hadn’t met since.
‘So, I was thinking, a lot shorter. A geometric bob.’
Marcus was there now and he wasn’t asking my opinion. He was telling me that was what he was going to do. And that was a relief. I’d had to make too many decisions lately, not least deciding where I would live.
‘Colour first,’ he said, leading me over to Monique. She didn’t say a word as she combed the colour through my hair. I watched her in the mirror. Useful, these mirrors. She worked carefully, precisely and quickly.
She was dressed in hairdresser’s black. Short tight black skirt, loose silk blouse with several buttons open, revealing a lacy black bra. I watched her breasts lift as she combed. They were small and looked firm. I wondered how they’d feel. Her skin was like porcelain. Her thighs were creamy against the tiny skirt. A beautiful contrast, in my opinion. I couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of her looked like. How she moved when unclothed.
Once she had finished Marcus took me to the sink, and I laid back and surrendered as he washed my hair. His fingers massaged my head slowly and firmly. I closed my eyes. This was always my favourite part. And then they began to venture down my neck and across my shoulders. His touch was firm, forcing me to relax. I squeezed my thighs shut, feeling a familiar tightening in my cunt. He was good at this.
‘The colour we’ve chosen will be just right. It will complement the cut beautifully.’
I was startled, opened my eyes. Monique had drawn up a stool and was sitting alongside me, her hand resting on my thigh. Her touch was light. We hadn’t chosen it. She and Marcus had. But I was happy to concur. I’d never been a redhead. There was always a first time for everything. Monique’s hand was still resting on my thigh. And then she began to move it. Not away, but further up, teasing. I didn’t protest. I was curious. Wanted to know what she intended to do. She tucked her fingers under the hem of my dress and slid them round, positioning them between my thighs, parting them slightly as she moved up. I allowed her to do it, and all this time Marcus was massaging my shoulders. So this is what they meant by pampering. Fine with me, so far. At least I was being included. And then Monique pulled her fingers away, stood and turned her back on me, walking away. Bitch, I thought. Teasing me like that. Marcus wrapped my head in a towel and took me over to a chair.
‘Trust us,’ he said. ‘We know what we’re doing.’
I raised my eyebrows. They were complete strangers. Why should I trust them? My faith in human nature had, after all, been a little shaken lately.
His chair was at the front of the salon. The blinds were half closed. He worked quickly too. I watched my hair, darker now, fall to the floor as the cut took shape. I watched Monique in the mirror, clearing up. She looked up after a while and met my gaze, unsmiling. Then she came over.
‘Your dress is beautiful. Handmade lace?’
I nodded.
‘May I touch it?’
Monique had pulled her stool over again, and was sitting next to me. Marcus had finished, and had taken the cape away from around my shoulders. What could I say? I shrugged, allowing her. I’d bought the dress today. It was figure hugging, and way out of my price bracket. But what the fuck? I deserved a treat.
This time her hand wandered up over my skirt, up to my waist, stopping just short of my breasts. I held my breath.
‘Really beautiful,’ she whispered.
‘You too,’ I replied, accepting the compliment, kind of assuming she didn’t just mean my dress. And so I touched her back. I started with her skirt too. It started out short, but by the time she’d sat down it was virtually up over her hips anyway, so all it needed was a little encouraging push, aided by a wriggle on Monique’s part and it was around her waist. She was wearing knickers. Just. A tight black satin thong that barely covered her mound. I looked at her and she held my gaze. It felt like a Mexican stand off. She hadn’t been expecting this. I understood the game she and Marcus had been going to play. And I’d subverted it. Taken charge. They’d misjudged me. No doubt I was supposed to give in to her ministrations, to offer no resistance. But that wasn’t the game I liked playing. I looked at Marcus too. He’d stepped back and was watching us. He gave me a small nod.
‘I think we should swap places,’ I said to Monique. Her eyes widened. And then she stood. I reached forwards, pulled her towards me and kissed her. She responded immediately, her lips warm and full, tangling her tongue with mine. I began unbuttoning her blouse, slipping my hands inside, pulling her breasts from her bra, twisting her small tight nipples. She gasped. I wondered if this was what she had been planning for me. I slid her blouse over her shoulders, unhooked her bra and bent to take one nipple between my lips. Another gasp. She was beautiful. Her skin was cool to the touch. Her breasts were, as I’d thought, small and firm. I love women’s breasts, any shape or size will do. My own excitement was building, and I could see Monique’s was too. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth open. I kissed her throat, taking the skin between my teeth and biting, knowing I would leave my mark.
It was my turn to lead, to take complete control of the situation. It was now or never. I pushed her back into the chair I’d just vacated. By now she was only wearing her skirt, around her waist, and her thong. Two items of clothing too many. I knelt in front of her, and she raised her hips in anticipation. Her skirt was soon lying on top of her blouse, a messy black puddle of discarded clothing. There was just the thong. I pulled her hips forward and pushed her thighs apart, burying my head between them. She made the sweetest, most encouraging sound, so I continued. I licked her thighs, kissed her mound through the black satin, hooked my finger under it and felt her wetness, her readiness.
I glanced in the mirror to my left. I could see Marcus. He was standing right behind me. It was my turn to give him a nod, and he quickly confirmed the sixth sense I had suspected him of having when he leant behind me and began unbuttoning the many tiny buttons at the back of my dress. Exactly what I wanted him to do. I stood for a moment, allowing him to finish. What was going on was good, but what I needed more was a bit of skin on skin action. My skin against Monique’s preferably, but looking at the bulge in Marcus’s black jeans, I could envisage some girl on boy action happening today, too. Perfect. And fuck you, Rob. You’re not the only one who can have good, old-fashioned fun with strangers.
My dress soon joined Monique’s clothes. Admiring noises came from Monique as the rest of me was revealed. I don’t think I was quite what she was expecting. Tonight I was braless, my breasts still held their own. My nipples matched hers, they were tight with desire. They needed touching. I wore stockings, suspenders, but nothing else. I saw her glance at the tiny tattoo of a bluebird on my right hip. Then to focus on my cunt. I was shaven. And my cunt lips were moist. Monique echoed the moistness by licking her lips. I glanced at Marcus again in the mirror. He had unbuttoned his and shed his jeans and was tugging slowly on his cock, obviously enjoying the sight before him. If he was happy to watch for now, I hoped he’d get involved sooner rather than later.
‘Silk stockings,’ Monique smiled.
I nodded. Another indulgence.
‘And your cunt …’ her voice faded.
‘Yes, it feels good like this, enhances my pleasure.’
She held out her hand, and I stepped towards her. She traced her fingers over my waist. I held my breath for a few moments. One hand headed upwards, towards my breasts, just skimming my flesh, then pinching my right nipple. The other headed southwards, stroking down my thighs, then back up again to my cunt. She delved into my heat, her fingers flicking over my cunt. This was nice, very nice, but it wasn’t where I wanted to go. I could so easily surrender. But what I needed was to regain control. So I pushed her hand away and dropped to my knees again. I tugged at Monique’s thong. The flimsy fabric gave way, and I smiled as I gazed at her cunt. Shaven too, just like me.
I had planned on going down on her, but seeing her bare flesh forced me to change my mind. That was OK, I’m flexible. So that was when I straddled her instead, sliding my thighs over hers, tucking my legs under the arms of the chair and heard her sigh as my cunt met her cunt. Marcus gave me a grin in obvious approval and, letting go of his cock for now, he stepped behind the chair and held Monique’s arms. She gave him a look, perhaps of protest or surprise I doubted this was how things generally went when they pampered a female in distress, but then she acquiesced and relaxed. After all, he was holding her tight; I was on her lap, my cunt against hers. What else could she do?
Then I began to move. I wriggled, twisted and ground down on her, using my fingers too, mingling our juices. I pushed three fingers inside her, feeling her tighten around them, and I knew from experience she was soon close to release, turned on, maybe by the turn things had taken. I planted tiny kisses on her, starting with her shoulders, moving down to her mouth-watering breasts, circling her nipples. Her cunt tightened more, and more still as I bit her. I felt her shudder. I pulled my fingers out, finding her hardened nub again, and began to stroke.
‘Faster,’ she moaned. But I wasn’t having her command me what to do. So, instead, I slid my hands over her body, her own juices making her skin glow in the half light. And then I scratched her. Delicately, down her sides and abdomen. Leaving the finest of red lines behind, which I kissed, drinking in the sweetness. And still Marcus held her, though now she fought him a little. She couldn’t fool me; I could see she was faking it. Not the pleasure, but the resistance.
It was time to taste her. I suspected she tasted as good as she looked. So I slid off her lap, and back down onto my knees. Her thighs were parted in readiness, and in a nanosecond my mouth was buried in her cunt. My tongue was inside her, then on her clit, teasing it, feeling it harden. I felt her hands push my head down. So Marcus had released her. I approved. It was about time he played a more active role. Her hands were free to push my head into her pussy. He was behind me, kneeling too, massaging my back, reaching round, kneading my firm breasts. I could feel his cock press against my buttocks. It was hard and ready. I wriggled a little, and opened my thighs. I was ready too, and wanted him to know it. And then his fingers were in there, tracing round my butt hole, down my inner thighs, into my cunt, over my clit, everywhere. He knew exactly what he was doing. I groaned with satisfaction, causing Monique to groan too, the vibration on her clit almost tipping her over.
‘Now,’ she pleaded. But I pulled my tongue away, momentarily. Soon, but not yet. I wasn’t having this wanton bitch dictate when her release would come. And then I felt his cock between my cheeks. I wondered where he was heading. Cunt or butt? I could take either. But he took the safe option, and forged his way deep into my cunt, holding my hips in place as he drove in, and began thrusting. One hand reached round my hips and found my clit. He was obviously a man of many talents, for which I was grateful as with each flick over my clit my cunt tightened round his thrusting cock. This was the kind of pampering I desired. I buried my head back in Monique, flicking, licking, biting, finger-fucking her, showing no mercy. She’d come now, at my command, and she did, her hips bucking, her juices flowing over my hands.
And that was when Marcus increased the pressure, and I was able to concentrate fully on my own needs. He was penetrating me to my core, working my cunt and clit in tandem, as I had done to Monique. I held myself steady against her soft, milky thighs as he ground into me and, finally, for the first time in weeks, I let myself go. The ache inside me was finally being indulged and I called out as he fucked me to the most exquisite orgasm of my life. My cunt pulsed as I melted into pleasure, finally resting my head on Monique’s thighs, vaguely aware of her stroking my hair as I shuddered through the death throes of my orgasm. My orgasm ensured his, a few final thrusts and he was finished too. He withdrew slowly, his come trickling down my thighs. There was no doubt he’d found the whole experience satisfying too.
As we recovered I admired Monique. Stroking her body, planting kisses on her thighs, stomach, breasts and finally lips. She was truly beautiful. Not flawless, but then who is? And who wants complete perfection? And I compared her pale softness to Marcus’s tanned hardness. Both were delicious to me. I’d got the best of both worlds, being attracted to the male and female of the species. It was a win win situation.
I perched on a stool, my skin cooling. And I watched Marcus and Monique. It became apparent they were well practised partners, and that they weren’t quite sated. He’d got up and was sitting back in the chair, his cock still glistening from my juices resting on his thigh, and it was her turn to fall to her knees.
I rubbed my hand over my still tingling shaven mound as Monique massaged life back into his cock, stroking and licking his balls, finally taking him into her mouth. He sat back and allowed it to happen, smiling at me as I parted my lips, insinuating my fingers between my folds, matching Monique’s rhythm as I stimulated myself again. If I couldn’t be part of the action I was quite happy to be a voyeur, hungry for thrills. My cunt tightened as Marcus groaned, clearly close to coming again. Monique had done this before, many times, that was clear. I pinched my left nipple as my right hand did the work on my clit and cunt. And then it happened for both of us. Marcus pumped his come into Monique’s welcoming mouth as my cunt pulsed and throbbed around my fingers. I sighed as my appetite for carnal pleasure was satisfied, and Marcus cried out as his gratification was complete. They were doing this for me and that felt good.
I glanced at the clock. 10.00 p.m. I was late for my appointment. But still I dressed slowly, and they helped me. Marcus finished my hair, smoothing it around my chin. This was the final stage in the pampering process I guessed. I watched in the mirror as Monique buttoned my dress, kissing my back as she did so. My skin was glowing and my hair flattered my new image.
‘Will you come again,’ she asked. Tentative. I shrugged. I expected I would but I wasn’t going to make any promises, become anyone’s prisoner. If that was what they wanted they should have thought of it before they helped create the woman who stood here now. The uber-bitch.
I left the salon without saying goodbye.
For almost the first time in my life I was late. I’d kept Sean waiting. He’d called last night. Said he was lonely. Had been abandoned by the beauties I’d encountered in our flat that day. I hadn’t been surprised. Maybe they’d have stayed around if I’d had a chance to work on them. I’d agreed to meet him. And I would, if he was still waiting. I wondered what he’d think about my new look. If I wanted to, I might even grant him a mercy fuck. But that would be it. After that we’d be finished for good. I never wanted to see him again. Sean had nothing to offer me. After all, tonight, with Marcus and Monique, I’d got my mojo back.