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.
Then his briefs and trousers were back up.
-So, Sandy, when d’you want me to provide this service? Fridays work for me, my lassie’s at her gran’s, so it’s usually my day for me.
-Friday works for me too, I work part-time and Friday’s usually a day for me too. This Friday?
-Aye, fine. About ten in the morning mibbe? I’ve no idea how long it’ll take, haven’t done it in wee while…
He handed her his card:
-Ten on Friday then Linda. I’m looking forward to it. D’you know where I live?
-I think I might be looking forward to it too… not absolutely certain… never provided this service before commercially. Here, you’d better have my mobile number, just in case anything unexpected comes up… and yes, I know where you are, I’ll find it no problem.
She patted his erection through the clothes, and ushered him from the shop.
He stood in the pedestrianised street, watched folk wander by, immersed in their own worlds. Two days ago, when he entered the shop for a simple haircut, he’d never dared dream of what he’d agreed with Linda. What she had suggested, in response to his lewd enquiry.
The evening and Thursday dragged, and he could barely focus on his work. He scoured his flat as it was only ever cleaned when he was expecting his partner’s arrival.
At ten sharp on Friday, the doorbell rang. He’d decided it’d be daft to get dressed, was wearing just his dressing-gown when he answered the door.
He gasped as he saw her, when she removed her coat. She was the portrait of a slut. No, more like a whore. Fuck. For the first time, he dared hope they might, though she’d been his every fantasy since Monday. But this wasn’t fantasy. She was here in his home. And had dressed so that he could have no doubt of her intentions. Well, he hoped… Just as well he’d drawn a couple of hundred from the bank the previous evening. Hope before reality… and he’d bought condoms too, something he rarely used, and never with his partner.
She twirled before him, and when her skirt flapped up, she was naked under it:
-Like what you see? I thought I should dress the part. I wanted to look like one of the working girls who’d have serviced you, had you chosen the sleazy option.
He stared at her, unable to find words.
-Maybe you did choose the sleaziest option… you must know I’ve never ever been in anything like this situation before… now, any chance of coffee before the working girl begins her services for you?
He nodded and led her by the hand into the living room. The plural wasn’t lost on him. Nor the term she’d used on herself. He’d never paid for sex in his life. Well, not in cash… She noticed his rueful grin at that thought:
-A penny for them?
-Och, I was just thinking I’ve never been in anything like this situation either. Now – smiling in her eyes – is Blue Mountain good for you? Otherwise it’s instant…
-Don’t remember Blue Mountain from Starbucks… so I don’t think I’ve had it. I’ll give it a try.
-It’s from Jamaica. I wouldn’t be surprised if Starbucks don’t offer it. It has real taste. North Americans appear to prefer blandness. I like coffee to taste like coffee. Make yourself at home whilst I fix it, please.
When he reappeared from his small kitchen, she was looking at the pictures on his walls:
-They’re all real paintings, aren’t they?
Her voice was a throaty whisper.
-Um, nope, not all of them. That one’s a print. By a friend of mine.
His living room and its contents had interested her. He was clearly an educated man, and cared about his home environment. But she was here to provide a service for him. Hmmm, maybe more than one. Her cunt was juicing. She felt it would be inappropriate to get to know him as a man. She had no intention of having a ‘relationship’ with him. So she sipped her coffee when it came:
-Now, this working girl’s here on business. I think it would be best to shave my client on his bed. That OK with you Sandy?
-Um, aye, wherever you think’s best.
-Will the working girl’s client want more than professionally shaved genitals?
-Depends what you’re willing to share with me. And what it costs. So what’s on offer?
-I haven’t decided yet. But by the time I’ve shaved you, I’ll want my cunt eaten. It’s soaking already. I won’t charge you for that pleasure. If I decide to allow you anything else, there’ll be professional fees.
-Aye. Of course. I’m ready to be shaved when the working girl’s ready to provide the service. Very ready…
She leaned over his chair, parted his dressing gown:
-Oh yes, you’re so ready… shaving an erect cock is much easier than doing a flaccid one. Well – she giggled – so I imagine. Come, let’s begin… I’ll need a bowl of very hot water. I’ve brought an electric shaver and a razor, but maybe you’d prefer me to use your own kit?
-The kettle’s not long boiled. I’ll get the bowl. The bedroom’s on the right, nearest the front door. My shaving kit’s there already, but I’m fine if you prefer to use your own.
She moved to the bedroom. Noted the handcuffs dangling from the head- and foot-boards. So, the man has kinks? Her cunt gushed at the thought…
An eyemask and some toys were on the dressing-table, with his shaving kit. She didn’t recognise some of the toys. A pile of towels lay on the bed. The man was organised. She liked that. The only things she didn’t see were condoms.
He entered with a steaming bowl of water. She needed to get his measure, so she’d know how to play this. The eyemask was in her hand:
-Put the bowl beside the bed, and come here, client.
She thrilled as he obeyed, and she slipped the mask over his eyes:
-Lose the dressing gown, client, and lie on the bed on your back. Arms and legs spread wide.
He obeyed. She grabbed his ankle, cuffed it to the bed. Then the other one.
-What the fuck… this wasn’t part of the deal, girl…
-It is now, client.
Her scarcely-clothed tits brushed his face as she secured his wrists. She was salivating and juicing as she watched his dripping cock:
-Now we’re ready for me to begin my … professional services.
Her phone rang. She answered it briefly, some sort of prearranged code, he thought. Then the buzzing of his Remington, and her fingers on his cock:
-Your Remington looks better than my electric for this part, but I’ll use my razor for the wetshave. It’s smaller than your Wilkinson, it’ll get into the creases better.
He quivered in suspense at her professional movements on him. Professional, but infinitely arousing. He shook as he felt her tongue on his cockhead, lapping at dribbling precum:
-You need to be completely dry for the electric.
She used a towel to pat him dry and continued:
-Now client, I need better access under your balls. And to check whether your arse needs attention too.
She unfastened his ankles. Raised his feet to the headboard so he was bent double, fastened him there:
-Hmm, some hair round your arse. Want the treatment there too?
He grunted something unintelligible. She set to work on his scrotum and arse, flicking the shavings onto the towel, her cunt dribbling copiously now:
-OK client, ready for the wetshave?
It was weird, feeling but unable to see. It had never been like this with his partner, and he was excited at the difference. And the fact that this woman wasn’t his partner, was providing a ‘professional’ service. The application of the searing mix of water and foam from the shaving brush had his cock as hard as it’d ever been. The gentle scrape of the blades as they removed the stubble. The care in her fingers as they teased to maintain his erection. A most amazing new erotic experience. For which he was paying. Somehow the emotional detachment, the cash involved, made it all even more arousing, taboo.
After some minutes, the woman ran her fingers all over his soapy scrotum and parted arse. She breathed:
-Mmm, think I’ve finished there…
He felt the hot washcloth wiping the soap from him. So gentle, so arousing… then her fingers on his ankle-cuffs. Her hands lowering his legs back into a more normal position, re-fastening him to the footboard.
The extent of his arousal excited her further. The thought flashed through her that she could make a lot of money this day if she wanted to. But she was worried about the absence of condoms. No way was he going to take her bareback. She’d need to see how it went. Meantime, she was over-dressed, and he was her prisoner:
-I think you need to rest a bit, allow your body to re-adjust to the new position before I start on the main course.
Fuck, the ‘main course’? His cock quivered in anticipation. He heard sounds which might mean she was undressing. Then something at his mouth. The very erect nipple of a small firm breast.
He did. The nipple grew firmer as he sucked and nibbled. Was replaced by the other. Then she moved, clambered over him. He smelled her cunt. So close…
-The client will eat the working girl to orgasm when she’s finished shaving you. D’you understand? You’ve no choice in the matter. Even working girls need to cum sometimes.
He grunted in need as she moved and the cuntscent retreated. Then a wet finger smeared his lips, pressed between them. Earthy, needy sex-taste.
-Just an appetiser, client. There’s a lot more where that came from, I promise you.
Hot foam all over his cock and the stubble above it. Steel harvesting pubic hair. His cock twitched with every intense movement of her hands and the instrument she used on him. Finally, her fingers slid over smooth skin, a cock stark naked for the first time in months:
-Hmmm. I think this work’s about done.
The hot washcloth, the towel. Her lips kissing the cocktip. He tried to thrust, but she withdrew. Shuffled up over his quivering body. Settled her spread crotch over his sightless face:
-Eat your working girl, client. If you get me off properly, there may be the opportunity of gratification for you. At a price.
-Godyes, love eating cunt. Such a beautiful scent, taste…
And his mouth went to work on her. He’d give her an orgasm all right, even without his hands to assist. It helped that the juice was sliding from her, the tops of her thighs soaking, needing licked. Before he dealt properly with her cunt. He asked her to move so he could access her thighs. She pressed her crotch more firmly on his face:
-I told you to eat me, manslut. Obey, or there’s nothing else negotiable.
He obeyed. She’d sensed he’d be good, and he was. She rewarded his efforts with a succession of gushing orgasms. Eventually she lifted herself off his wet cuntstinking face:
-Enough. Well, for now… and your mouth and tongue must be a wee bit tired too.
She was off the bed. He felt her eyes scan his body. Hungrily, he hoped. Then her fingers, freeing his wrists and ankles. She lifted the mask from his eyes, and for the first time, he saw her nakedness. God, she was sexuality incarnate.
-Does the client have anything for the working girl to eat? Food, I mean. We can discuss any further services you may require as we eat.
He sat up, pulled on his dressing gown. Watched her take his partner’s gown from where it hung on the back of the door. He thought to say something, but didn’t. Instead:
-Aye, I’ve the makings of lunch. And a rather nice Rioja, if the working girl wants a sip.
He drew her into the living room, wanting to appear in charge:
-There’s homemade minestrone, wholemeal bread, smoked salmon, Parma ham, a variety of cheeses, olives, artichoke hearts… what does the working girl fancy?
-Umm… all of the above.
Somehow she wasn’t surprised that the only bread on offer was wholemeal.
He busied himself in the kitchen with the soup, after taking the bread, opened wine, and other foods to the dining table in the living room.
When he emerged with two bowls of soup, she was at his laptop. Shit, he shouldn’t have left it open. Then he smelled her cunt. Her fingers were between her spread thighs, working hard. He looked at the screen. A photo of his partner was up. A very lewd one. Linda tensed, every muscle in her body taut. Screamed in orgasm, her squirt soaking his chair. Sank back, gasping:
-She’s… incredibly sexy… no wonder you miss her.