The young barber handed Ryan the mirror. Then he gave a crinkled smile.
“I’m… I’m new,” the barber said weakly. His brow broke.
Ryan saw the uneven fade, the misshaped styling, the thatches of missed clumps.
“You don’t have to pay me. I mean, please don’t. It’s…”
Ryan was silent.
The barber flung the sheet off of Ryan. The snipped hair scattered around the barber chair, where other clumps already lay.
Ryan walked out, zombie-like, dejected. His head hanged down. The only thing he could do was buzz off all his hair.
Later, Ryan’s friends were shocked when they saw him.
“Dude, you got a—”
“You got butchered!”
The girls there came close to sympathize with him and observe the details of the errors. They gave him sad faces and sweet hugs.
“Oh, Ryan, this is… I’m so sorry,” Elaine said. “One time in high school, a hairdresser cut my bangs too short. I was embarrassed for a full year. It’s the reason for my self-hatred now.” She shivered remembering the experience. Yet, she gave him another squeeze.
“No one’s done me that bad, and my mom has cut my hair all my life,” a guy said.
“All I can do is buzz it all off,” Ryan said. “I’m heading to the store to buy an electric clipper.”
“Wait, Ryan, wait,” Christie said. “I have some experience with cutting hair.”
The sweet blonde circled Ryan. She ran her fingers through his hair and moved his head this way and that to look from different angles. “I think this is salvageable. Maybe. I just don’t want you to cut it all off right away. I’ve always thought you have great hair.”
Elaine agreed. “Some guys have what women want. And too many times, they don’t care.”
Christie locked her arm through Ryan’s. “Let’s go to my apartment. If nothing works out, well, I have an electric clipper.”
A half-hour later, the two were in Christie’s kitchen. Ryan sat in the middle of the room on a dining room chair. It was set in the center of a shower curtain on the floor, which she had laid down for easy clean-up.
Christie put on fluid ambient music and gave Ryan a glass of cold, cucumber water.
Ryn sipped it. “This doesn’t taste like anything but regular water.”
“It’s what a hairdresser might offer her customer,” Christie said.
Ryan sipped it again. Nevertheless, no flavored water or music could lighten the weight in the pit of his stomach, even having cute Christie hovering around him.
Christie was a girl who attracted all guys. She had a kind, innocent smile and a thin body. But her cleavage was impossible to ignore. At the club, the guys and their come-ons bothered her like fruit flies.
Her fingers ran through Ryan’s hair.
“That barber really got you,” she said. “Make sure you give him a bad review online. Protect other people.”
Ryan shrugged. “He was new, so…”
“And he took it out on you.” She tsked her tongue while studying Ryan.
She began her attempt at salvation.
There were a few snips of her scissors. Dark hair floated to the floor.
She stopped. Hands on her narrow hips, her chest filling from a deep breath.
“That’s the first part of this,” she said.
Christie turned on the water faucet. Coming back, she leaned against the kitchen counter across from Ryan.
“My grandma gave me perms when I was a little girl. Curling up my hair in little pink rollers. The perm smelled terrible and stunk up the whole house. My brothers and Dad complained and complained. Finally, they would leave for somewhere else. We loved when they left, because, Grandma and me, we’d watch soap operas the whole time. No matter what, all of it was worth it to us. The necessary price for beauty.”
“All that for curly hair?” Ryan asked.
“You could never understand what women do to themselves.”
“All for guys, huh.”
“Guys!” She waved off the notion. “Not guys at all. They honestly don’t matter. We do all we do to look better than other women—better than our friends.”
“Really?”
“There’s nothing greater than walking into a room and having eyes follow. Not guys’ looks, that’s nothing. But other women. To make them want to get the same style—to make them jealous—it’s like a different kind of ‘orgasm.’”
Ryan’s neck stiffened, and his eyes widened at the word.
“Oops! That might have been a bit forward. But it’s that good.” Christie shrugged. “Come over here. Time for a shampoo.”
She had Ryan lean into the sink. Almost like a punisher, she held his head under the scorching-hot water. She roughly worked the coconut-scented shampoo into Ryan’s hair.
“Wait, wait,” Ryan said, squirming in the chair.
Christie paused.
“Don’t be so mean and cool down the water,” Ryan said.
Christie rolled her eyes. “Men.”
However, she didn’t cool the water or ease up. She washed the shampoo from his hair with the pull-down sprayer. Finally, she dried his hair with a bath towel.
“I don’t like you,” Ryan said when he was back in the chair. “Don’t be so ruthless. You’re supposed to massage me.”
She shook her head. “That was a massage. You don’t know what it’s like to be a woman.”
“After that, I don’t want to.”
Again came the scissors. Christie leaned in close to Ryan, studying the lines and shape of his head and hair. She stepped back for a different perspective. Then she came close again for more snips.
Christie’s tongue pushed at the corner of her mouth as she focused. She stepped in front of Ryan to look at his bangs. She leaned forward.
Ryan tried to keep his eyes away but couldn’t. Christie wore a small shirt with a low neck. Underneath, a white bra held her petite breasts.
She noticed his look, so she adjusted her shirt to cover the view.
“Sorry,” he said simply.
“It’s all right.” However, she was still concentrating on the haircut.
She combed his hair straight forward.
He felt the cool metal of the scissor blades move across his forehead.
Christie stood up and shook out the combed hair.
Ryan glanced up. His eyes slid again from her tightened lips to her narrow neck.
The neckline of her shirt had lowered once more.
She saw his eyes.
“I can’t control where this shirt goes,” she said, lightly.
“I struggle to keep my eyes from breasts,” he said. “Oops, might have been a little forward.”
She rolled her eyes. Ryan was glad she didn’t smack the side of his head or scold him, or anything for that matter with a pair of scissors in her hand.
She leaned to him still focused on the haircut.
Ryan felt her breast brush his shoulder.
Christie quieted in her concentration. Ryan only heard a soft breathing between the scissor’s snips. She walked behind him and put her hands on his neck to straighten it. This time she was tender. Her fingers spidered up his neck and into his hair.
Ryan shivered. “Feels good.”
“I hope so.”
She continued to lean forward, and, as she came close, her body touched his.
The weight in Ryan’s stomach from his bad haircut eased. Instead, a lump formed in the lap of his basketball shorts. He took a deep breath and shifted his legs.
“Don’t move,” she said, putting her soft hands on his cheeks.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“This might turn out all right. I’m impressed with myself.”
“Me too.”
She stood tall before him, looked down, and offered a sweet smile. “You haven’t seen your hair yet.”
He touched her thigh. “You’re good.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe you sometimes—the things you say.”
Christie ruffled up Ryan’s hair.
He enjoyed her hands but also kept looking at her quivering breasts that were level with his eyes.
Then her knees bumped his. She ignored the touch as she styled his hair one way. She moved one leg slightly between his, as she restyled his hair.
Having her so close, he put his hands on the back of her knees. Without a swat or a rebuke, he kept them there, but only touching lightly, not grabbing. As she ruffled and restyled his hair, Ryan’s hands slinked up the back of her thighs.
She stopped styling—hands frozen in the fresh haircut. Ryan felt her legs tighten from the sensual move and then shudder.
His hands came to the base of her butt. He waited. Still without a swish of her hands, he squeezed her butt and then took hold of more. He slowly massaged deeply into the flesh.
Christie’s breathing quickened with shortened inhales. In this close encounter, her hands relaxed, sliding from his hair to cling to his ears. She held them tight as he held her ass.
The pair were silent, except for the breaths and the moan of the dining room chair.
His hands moved to her waist. He could feel her hips. Her hand touched the center of his chest and the other slid down to the base of his neck.
Ryan skimmed his hand across her waist to settle his palm on her lean belly.
Christie gulped.
Her eyes stared at his mouth. To Ryan’s surprise, she reached forward and pushed her thumb across his bottom lip.
Ryan touched the button of Christie’s jeans.
She took in another deep breath. She gently touched his hand.
“Do it,” she whispered.
There was a hard pop. Her tight jeans slackened and appeared a plain pair of pink panties.
She flopped into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She mashed her lips to his.
The two kissed hard and intensely. They pressed into each other. Their heads twisted. Their tongues wrestled. Moans slipped from her mouth.
Christie finally broke the kiss. Her face was flushed. She was heaving for air.
“I have a mirror—” she said through rough breaths. “—a mirror in my bedroom.”
She tugged him from the chair and down the hall.
Ryan banged his shoulder against the door frame as he entered the bedroom. At that time though, pain did not distract from pleasure.
Christie shed her shirt before sitting on the bed. She wrestled to get Ryan’s shirt over his head.
She then yanked his shorts to his knees.
Christie’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open when seeing the length trapped behind his white briefs.
“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly. It did not sound like she meant it to be heard.
Her face came near to the dick. She rubbed her cheek against the hardness, like it was one of her stuffed animals that she loved. Her hands ran up his thighs, as his had done earlier to hers. They scaled over his round butt and reached the band of the briefs.
She looked up at him. It wasn’t clear to Ryan whether it was for permission or ensuring his pleasure.
Her fingers dragged along the elastic band to the front and then drew the briefs forward. There was the thick, pulsing cock capped with a narrowed head.
“Wow.” Another simple word slipped, faintly, from her lips.
Her hand gripped the monolith. It moved to the base and then up to cover the head.
Ryan’s toes squeezed at the feminine touch. His hand cupped the back of Christie’s head. He pulled her mouth close to him.
Timid but willing, she let his dick into her mouth, filling it fully. She bobbed, amateurishly at first, but found a smooth rhythm, with the help of Ryan’s guiding hand.
Soon a froth of saliva appeared at the corners of her mouth. She pulled back, strands still connected to the length. She stroked the wet dick with one hand, while she rubbed the back of her free hand across her messy lips.
Christie gave Ryan an innocent look. “You like that?”
“Definitely.” He brought her face to him again, but this time with more force.
Christie took his cock deeply into her mouth and then pulled back coughing and gagging. She kept going, until Ryan wanted more.
He tugged at her bra until her breasts fell free. Her pink nipples were set on teardrop-shaped breasts.
Christie pulled away from his cock. She wiped her mouth and then shuffled to the center of the bed. She urged him forward. He obliged and immediately put his mouth all over her tits. She arched her back and twisted her head at the feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth.
“Put them in your mouth,” she said softly.
As Ryan worked his mouth, Christie dragged his free hand to her pussy. She shifted her panties off her hips and ass.
His hand wasn’t enough.
“Your dick,” she whimpered in the intensity. “Don’t make me wait.”
Hearing the command, Ryan aligned himself with her and charged in. Their bodies smacked together. Ryan rose up high with his thrusts while Christie stiffened as if speared deadly. Her body remained tense and strained. Her face was gnarled and scrunched in the intensity.
Ryan thrusted faster with quicker, shorter blitzes.
They both were enjoying themselves. Ryan loved seeing the woman below him reacting to his dick.
Suddenly, Christie’s body flattened out. All its intensity escaped, vanished. Christie seemed wobbly.
Ryan rammed himself in again and again, despite her weakened state. But he then felt her pussy tightening around his cock. It rushed him to his peak.
In a moment, he pulled out and gave a few quick strokes. Christie smiled as she watched. Her eyes tired from her orgasm.
“All over me,” she said. She smashed her breasts.
His cum landed on her stomach and in her trim bush. Ryan squeezed out the last bits onto her.
Christie looked at the cum and then at Ryan. Her demeanor was calm and happy as she lay there with the man above her.
“I loved it,” she said. “I’m glad you got that bad haircut.”
“Agreed.”
“Now,” she said with an exhale. “Let’s get my clipper. We’ll buzz your head and then shower off.”
“Wait what? I thought you …”
She tugged his hand to lead him into the bathroom.
“Your hair will grow back.”
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