Just a Trim Please by NCfan
A young man, a hair stylist with few boundaries. , I was in high school, my hair was long, kind of disheveled, lacking in any kind of style. It was the early 1980’s; one of those new hair styling places had opened a couple towns over so I decided to go in and see what they could do.
My name is Jim Carson. I was 5-10 at the time. Kind of skinny at 155 lbs. And not much experience with the girls at my school. A couple of them had said I was cute, but it seemed they liked the stronger, hot guys better. Oh well, I was young, there was time. Maybe a new hair style would help.
I took the bus up the avenue and got off a block from Cricket’s Hair Salon. I wasn’t too sure just yet. After years of going into the local barber shop for a trim, this was a different looking place. I decided, what the hell, and walked in. Once inside I realized this was NOT your daddy’s barbershop. Missing was that barbershop smell. And the four older men ready with scissors at an industrial strength chair. At Cricket’s there were plants and lighter decorations. Different color lights, the room separated into work areas by decorative curtains. And women everywhere. Young women. Attractive young women. There was a receptionist. Pretty, with a ready smile,
“Hi, welcome to Cricket’s. Do you have an appointment?” I was tongue tied. I wasn’t used to talking to women her age who were so hot.
“I, um, uh, I didn’t know I needed one. Sorry, can I come back?”
“Oh no, no problem. We take walk-ins, but next time call and you can schedule a time and a stylist. Let me have your name and you can wait right over there.”
“OK, I’m Jim. Thanks.” I took a seat and tried not to stare at the receptionist. That got easier as I realized I could also watch the stylists as they were coming and going. Wow, this was better than the high school hallway. They were all in their early 20’s, one nicer looking than the next. I saw other men and women coming in. Those with appointments getting matched up with their chosen stylist. Then a tall thin young woman came out from behind a curtain. She looked over at me, smiled, then went to the reception desk. She chatted a moment with the recptionist, nodded and turned to me,
“Jim, come on back.” As I followed her, she led me to a chair by a sink. “I’m Crystal. I’ll be cutting you’re hair, but first everyone gets their hair washed. Carol here will get you washed up then you’ll meet me over there.” She was pointing to one of the cutting stations. I was nodding, but taking in everything about Crystal. She was my height. Long slim legs, rounded tight butt, encased in jeans. She was thin all the way up, small breasts, maybe no bra. Her hair was dark brown, and of course, styled nicely. When she turned back to me and smiled I took in her cute face, large white teeth, pouty lips. I watched her go, then sat back in the chair as Carol tilted my head back and began washing.
“First time here?”
“Uh-huh.” It was nice to have someone washing and running their hands through my hair. From the corner of my eye I tried getting a look at Carol. All I saw were her larger breasts shaking as her hands vigorously shampooed and washed. I relaxed and tried not to get an erection in my own jeans. When she was done Carol led me over to Crystal’s work area. I noted that Carol was a bit shorter and a little thicker all around. Still way beyond the kind of girls who talked to me. As she handed me over to Crystal I noticed a quick wink and,
“Good luck.” Was that for me, or Crystal? I sat on the chair and looked around as Crystal pulled the curtain over and got a covering for me. She brushed my hair back then stood back to look at me. She asked,
“So what are we doing?”
“I’m not really sure, my first time here. I usually just let a barber give me a trim.”
“Oh, no, no. Not here. Trust me? I’ll do something that’ll have all the girls checking you out.”
“Ha, that never happens.”
“Why, you’re cute.”
“They all like the big football guys. I’m too skinny.” Now she was running her fingers through my hair, fluffing it up, watching it fall. Kind of casually she said,
“I like skinny guys.” That was it. No more explanation. Just, “You want it a lot shorter, or still long?”
“What ever you like, er, think.” She almost giggled. Crystal began working on my hair. I was used to being in and out of the barbershop in no time. But this was a process. She began moving from side to side, tilting my head this way and that. As she worked on my right side I felt her pressing against my hand as I held the edge of the chair. Her crotch was settled right against my bent fingers. She must have known, but she kept cutting. Then when the scissors stopped and she was again running her hand through my hair I’d swear she was grinding againt me. Very subtly, but she was moving against me. Then she moved away. I let out the breath I’d been holding. She worked around the back. I could smell her scent. A light perfume. Subtle. Nice, very nice. She made small talk. Asked about school. Noted that she went to the same school a few years ago when she lived over that way. When she moved around to my left, I’d made sure my hand was in the same position as the other side. She did it again. Right up tight against my hand. The sheet, her jeans and whatever underwear she had separating my knuckles from her pussy. She cut, she fluffed my hair, she ground her crotch. Then maybe having gotten further along than she intended, she stopped. Cutting, not grinding. She put a hand on my shoulder, now there was no doubt. I turned my head slightly left. Her smooth belly showing as her shirt lifted with each breath, her tight jeans pressed against my covered hand. She sucked in a breath, held it as she gripped my shoulder hard, then relaxed. She stepped back.
“Oh, ok. Whew.” Then without further comment Crystal finished my hair. When she turned me to the mirror I was looking at a new me. Looking up I also saw a flushed Crystal holding a mirror to give me a view of the back. My hair looked great. I nodded my head.
“Thanks, looks great.” She leaned forward and whispered,
“My pleasure.” Then she cleaned me up and took off the sheet. As she used the hair blower to clear away clippings I wondered if she could see the lump in my jeans. She walked me out to the reception desk where the girl glanced at us, then did a double take at Crystal, raising an eyebrow. I paid and gave Crytal a generous tip. She thanked me then before turning to go back said, “Ask for me next time.” The receptionist asked if I wanted to make an appointment.
“Yeah sure, next month?” She looked at their book,
“Maybe sooner? Crystal is free three weeks from today.” I’d have to work some more odd jobs to afford this place so often. Coming in I wasn’t even sure if I’d come back. But I liked my new look and,
“OK sure.”
Three weeks later I was there, right on time. The same receptionist was there. She checked me in and pointed to the waiting area,
“Crystal will be a few minutes. Running late with a walk in, sorry.” I shrugged,