Girls Only: The Hairdresser

  eXcessica publishing

  Girls Only: The Hairdresser © February 2012 by Selena Kitt

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

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  Cover design © 2012 Willsin Rowe

  First Edition February 2012

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  GIRLS ONLY:

  The Hairdresser

  By Selena Kitt

  Selena Kitt Singles

  Short Story—Big Bang!

  Amanda’s hairdresser, Jen, has always been her confidante, champion and supporter—nothing short of someone she would call a “friend.” But when Jen discovers Amanda’s first gray hair at a routine appointment, it prompts a re-examination of more than just Amanda’s roots. As the two women commiserate about the dangers of getting older, they discover more in common than bad boyfriends—and a day of beauty and pampering turns into a night of full-blown sexual discovery and pleasure.

  Warning: This title contains hot panty-melting girl-on-girl action!

  Table of Contents

  The Hairdresser

  About Selena Kitt

  Bonus Excerpt!

  More Books from Selena Kitt

  More from Excessica

  The Hairdresser

  “Sorry I’m late!” I apologized as the door closed behind me, leaving the rain outside.

  Jen looked up and smiled. She was sitting in her stylist chair, reading People and drinking something from a tall Starbucks cup. They were just around the corner and I had my own, picked up on the way. I glanced around the normally busy salon at the empty chairs and quiet dryers.

  “We close in fifteen minutes,” she admonished, already standing and beckoning me over. “So what do you have in mind, Mandy? Just a cut?”

  “It’ll be quick, I promise.” I fingered the ends of my auburn hair, looking for split-ends. “Just a trim.”

  She patted the chair. “Hop up.”

  I stashed my purse under her table and slid onto the seat, smoothing my skirt and watching in the mirror as she fastened the black drape around my neck like a reverse Dracula’s cape. Jen ran her hand through my hair, still thick although I was nearing thirty-five. My mother had started losing her hair at forty and I was paranoid about compromising my best feature.

  “Half an inch? An inch?”

  I nodded. “Sounds about right.”

  Pleasantries over, Jen got down to business, hustling me over to the sink to wash my hair before the cut. This was my favorite part of going to a salon—the warm water, the gentle scrubbing of her fingertips over my scalp, the press of her hip against my shoulder, and the lovely view of her cleavage as she bent to rinse the soap out.

  Yes, I had a boyfriend—if you could call him that—but I couldn’t help my sexual proclivities, such as they were. I’d always had a thing for pretty girls, although I’d learned not to confess this fact too often, especially to my male partners. They just wanted to talk about and push threesomes, and who wanted a guy breathing over you while you were trying to enjoy yourself with a girl?

  Of course, I didn’t tell women about it either, most of the time. In spite of what they told their boyfriends in college, most girls weren’t really into other girls, especially if the attention of a guy wasn’t at stake. So I just enjoyed their company and my own little secret, later fantasizing about it in the shower or in the middle of the night while Tom snored away next to me in bed.

  The experience of Jen washing my hair was so pleasurable I often lost track of whatever small talk we were making at the time, and today’s topic of conversation was so oft-traveled, I’m afraid my mind definitely wandered down the front of her blouse. She was complaining about her own on-again, off-again boyfriend, a bodybuilder named Brad who worked out four hours a day and liked mirrors more than his hairdresser girlfriend.

  “Why do we bother with these bastards, Jen?” I met her eyes, shaking my head in disgust as she toweled my hair dry.

  “You got me.” She rolled her pretty blue eyes up under her thick, blonde bangs. Like most hairdressers, she was perfectly coiffed, her hair thicker and blonder then any Rapunzel. I could smell it when she leaned in close, fruity and sweet, and I caught another secret scent, the musky smell of her sweat and deodorant mixed. “Oh sweetie… what do we have here?”

  “Hm?” I inquired, enjoying the way she dried me off like a naughty puppy after a bath too much to really take notice of her frown.

  “A grey hair.”

  I stared at her, horrified, disbelieving, until she plucked it from my temple, the sharp sting making me yelp, my eyes watering.

  “Ouch!” I stared at the hair pressed between her finger and thumb. It was grey all right. “You’re not supposed to pluck them! Doesn’t that make them come back even more?”

  “That’s an old-wives-tale.” She laughed. “Is it really your first?”

  I gulped and nodded, to aghast to speak.

  “You should keep it.”

  She found a perfume card in the middle of a magazine, black with small white lettering. Using Scotch-tape, she fastened my first grey hair to it in stark contrast.

  “Keep it?” I scoffed as she walked me back over to her station, putting the card in front of me on the table as I sat down again. What for?”

  “It’s a sign of wisdom.” She picked up a comb and started working it through my hair. “And it isn’t the end of the world, you know.”

  “Look who’s talking!” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “What are you, twenty?”

  “Thirty.” She smiled and tipped me a wink. “And this isn’t my natural color.”

  “Oh my god, I’m old.” I frowned into the mirror, too focused on my own face to notice her hair color. “Where did these lines come from?”

  Jen turned my chair away from my reflection, leaning in so I couldn’t look anywhere but her bright blue eyes. “You won’t turn into a crone overnight, I promise.”

  “But it’s the beginning of the end,” I protested. Since I didn’t have a mirror to point to, I showed her direct proof. “Look at my hands! Old, I tell you! I’m old!”

  She pressed her lips together, arms akimbo, and then smiled, a slow, sweet smile. “I have an idea. Let’s do a whole beauty regimen. Hair, nails, skin, everything.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Weren’t you getting ready to close?”

  “So? I’m the only one here and Brad’s in Chicago at some bodybuilding conference for the weekend.”

  I looked at her, contemplative. “Funny, Tom’s away on busin
ess this week. He won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

  Jen smiled. “So it’s just us girls.”

  “Guess so.” I glanced back at the mirror, seeing her looking at me. “No one to get all prettied up for.”

  “Do it for you.” She ran a hand through my wet hair, her fingers grazing my scalp lightly, giving me shivers.

  I shrugged and then grinned. “Why not?”

  We spent two hours dying, washing, drying, brushing and coiffing. We also spent that time talking, like we usually did, about everything from my job in graphic design to hers. She was also going to school part-time to get her degree in nursing.

  We also talked about our boyfriends, both of us unhappy but unwilling to make a big change either. Tom had cheated on me—twice—and Jen had let me cry on her shoulder in both instances. But I’d still gone back to him. And Jen’s boyfriend, Brad…well, I didn’t tell her so, but I wasn’t sure the man didn’t swing the other way. He was too pretty for his own good. She complained about him going out to bars a lot. It just made me suspicious.

  When my hair was done and my facial and make-up complete, the last thing we did was my nails, sitting across the little table from each other, heads bent and focused.

  Jen sat back and studied her work, giving a satisfied nod. “Pretty.”

  “We should do you too.”

  She looked up and smiled. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “Hmm?”

  Jen leaned forward, so close I could smell the cappuccino on her breath. “Let’s make it a real girl’s night. Want to come back to my place? I’ve got a bottle of White Zinfandel we can share.”

  The offer was innocent enough, but the look on her face gave me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had a feeling that wasn’t all we were going to share, and I turned out to be right. We polished off the entire bottle of wine sitting on Jen’s bed, going through some of her old photo albums. I’d expressed an interest and had overruled her reluctance, pulling them off the shelves.

  “Damn, girl, look at you in that bikini.” She was gorgeous—slender, lean and tanned.

  She scoffed, sipping her wine. “I was just a baby then.”

  “I bet you still rock a bikini, no problem.” I flipped the page, finding more pictures of a girl on spring break, bright eyes and bare midriffs. “I wish I could say the same!”

  “Are you kidding me? Mandy, you’re gorgeous.”

  “Meh. I’m old.” I rolled my eyes, flipping another page. “Tom better marry me soon or I’m gonna die old and alone with just my vibrator for company.”

  Jen laughed, stretching out on the bed beside me on her belly, mirroring my posture, kicking her feet up behind her. “Well, who needs them?”

  “Men?” I smiled.

  “Yeah.” She turned her face to me, her eyes bright, curious. We were both more than a little drunk. “Tell me the truth—who do you have better orgasms with, Tom or your vibrator?”

  “Well…” I pretended to consider this, but there was really only one answer.

  She grinned. “Yeah, me too.”

  “What kind of vibrator do you have?” I pushed the photo album aside, turning toward her.

  “Want to see it?” Her offer caught me off guard, making my heart race, but I wasn’t about to turn her down.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She went to the place every girl keeps her vibrator—her underwear drawer—and pulled it out, looking both a little shy and a little proud. I had a few vibrators of my own, simple, streamlined things, but this was a monster, at least a foot long with a bright pink dick-head and what looked like—I swear to god—a rabbit attached to the base.

  “Damn, girl—that’s not a vibrator, that’s a party in your pants!”

  “It feels soooo good.” Jen’s eyes sparkled as she sat next to me on the bed, still holding the thing. Up close, I could see all the buttons and controls at the base, and yes, that was a little silicone rabbit attached. “Want to try it?”

  “Are you serious?” I was just asking to be sure. My pussy was already soaking wet from being around her all night long.

  Jen’s shoulders sagged and she started to get up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, wait.” My hand on her arm was electric, like we’d completed a circuit the moment I touched her. “I want to. I want to but…”

  “But what?”

  “I just wish we had two. So we could both… you know…” I flushed. There was no sense not going forward with it now. “Otherwise it might be awkward.”

  “I doubt that, but you’re in luck.” She smirked, handing me the pink vibrator and going back to her underwear drawer. She pulled out another vibrator, this one more familiar to me. Just a plain flesh-colored dildo with a simple dial control at the bottom. “This one isn’t quite as fun as that one, but it’ll do.”

  She took the initiative, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them over her slim hips. She was gorgeous, every glorious inch of her. Her panties were gone in an instant, revealing the truth she’d stated earlier—Jen wasn’t a real blonde at all. Her pussy was nicely trimmed, though—what else could you expect from a hairdresser?—a neat little landing strip on top and completely shaved down below.

  I wanted to see her breasts too, but she was already climbing onto the bed, shoving the photo albums to the floor and stretching out beside me. I’d been too stunned by the sight of her to do anything with the vibrator in my hand, but when she spread her legs and turned hers on, I remembered my own.

  “Ohhhh yes.” Her eyes closed as she teased the fake cock head between her smooth lips, the buzz of it filling the room. “So good.”

  It was. My pussy throbbed and I squeezed my legs together, feeling the wetness in the crotch of my panties. Thankfully, I didn’t have as much to take off to get to the goods. All I had to do was inch up my skirt and nudge my panties aside with the vibrator. Its pink head was soft silicone, not quite as good as a tongue but almost, and I rubbed it easily through my slick slit, watching Jen play with herself.

  She opened her eyes briefly to glance at me, giving me a dreamy half-smile. “Don’t forget to turn it on.”

  “Oh. Right.” I was loathe to take the thing away from my pussy, but I had to inspect the controls. They were far too complicated for my booze-addled brain. “Are you sure this thing doesn’t control the space shuttle?”

  Jen giggled, half sitting to take it from me. It was still glistening with my juices and I watched, my heart caught in my throat, as she licked the head of it with the pointed, pink tip of her tongue.

  “You’re bad.”

  She gave a throaty laugh, flashing a mischievous smile before peeling off her t-shirt. “I can be far worse.”

  I would have been lying if I’d said I’d been hoping for anything different when she pushed my legs open wider and settled between them, now completely nude. Her breasts were small and ripe, like little plums, her nipples a dark contrast to her pale skin and the corn silk of her hair. I wanted to look at them more but she had settled on her belly, urging my hips up, pulling my panties off, showing me how to work the contraption in her hand.

  “Like this.” She pushed a button and the vibrator hummed to life between my legs. I tried to pay attention to her instructions—how to turn it up, how to change the pulse—but the way she had the head of it pressed right against my clit all the while made it far too difficult to concentrate on anything mechanical.

  “Jen,” I whispered, biting my lower lip. She was talking about the speeds—three of them I think? “Oh god… Jen…”

  She lifted her blonde head, her eyes meeting mine, and smiled. “You like it on your clit?”

  I moaned, shifting my hips forward and up in response. “Make it go faster.”

  “Okay.” She did, and my thighs trembled, my pussy so wet I was sure I was soaking her bed. “Better?”

  “Oh god yes.” The vibrations sent lovely shivers through me and I found myself unbuttoning my blouse and unhooking my bra without t
hinking, letting it fall open so I could tweak my nipples while she worked the head of the dildo over my sensitive clit.

  “But you haven’t really felt the full effect yet.” Jen’s remark would have opened my eyes, but it was the feel of the vibrator parting my swollen lips, sliding down to my hole, that really did it. I gulped and gasped but I let her slip it slowly in, the whole thing making my pelvis buzz.

  “My clit,” I protested. I was one of those girls who wanted—needed—direct clitoral stimulation.

  “No worries, sweetheart.” She pressed it in deeper and suddenly that pelvic hum became centered again right where I liked it. Gasping, I looked down to see the silicone rabbit pressing against my clit, the vibrator deep inside me now.

  “Oh my god!” I reached out for something to hold onto, finding her wrist and forcing the toy even deeper, the rabbit’s ears mashed against the aching bud of my clit, teasing me into submission. “That’s fucking good!”

  “Oh it gets better.” Jen did something with the controls and before I knew what was happening, the whole thing was moving inside of me, turning in delicious circles.

  “You weren’t kidding!” I gasped. I didn’t tell her that I normally didn’t insert vibrators—I just used them to tease my clit to orgasm. But this! This thing was out of this world! It not only vibrated against my clit, but there were beads along the length that turned, little ridges teasing the walls off my pussy with every pass. I’d never felt anything like it.

  “Told you.” She smiled. “It makes me come so hard. It’s fucking epic.”

  I could imagine. I was imagining. I wanted to find out! “Faster, Jen. Oh god, please.”

  “The vibration? Or the rotation? Or—”

  “All of it!” I cried. I couldn’t believe I was saying it, but I was. My whole pussy was spasming, aching for release. I couldn’t hold it back. “Oh god, fuck me faster, harder, deeper!”

  “Mmmm!” She did as I asked, so skilled with the thing that I knew she must have fucked herself a thousand times with it. Thinking of her doing that—knowing that this very vibrator had been inside of Jen’s wet pussy—sent me flying into orbit.