A Night in the Life

'This place hasn't changed since I was a little girl,' Claire Mooney thought as she took in the unchanged décor of Rossi's Barber Shop. 'It's like stepping back in time.'

From the old style barber chairs to the wall mounted photographs of famous patrons, all seemed exactly like they had been on the thirty-two year old's last visit, back when she was all of thirteen. Once a month, she would accompany her father and younger brother, Brian, to the local landmark and wait patiently while they had their hair cut. She would do so secure in the knowledge that their next stop would be the Ice Cream Emporium just down the street, an establishment nearly as old and famed. The Saturday afternoon ritual had been established on the occasion of her brother's first haircut, and soon became a constant in their young lives.

Staying at her parents' house here in Brooklyn the last few months had brought on a wave of nostalgia to the recently divorced architect, resurrecting a score of old memories. The one about the weekly trip to the Emporium had prompted her to offer to take her nephews Clark and Bruce for their monthly haircuts and in the process, introduce them to the old tradition -- one her brother had shamefully allowed to lapse.

As she waited for her older nephew to be finished, Claire again noted one obvious change in the years since her last visit. Whereas the man who had cut Bruce's hair was unmistakably related to the previous generation of barbers, her recollection of them reinforced by a large photo on the wall, Clark was being attended to by an attractive young woman. If Claire had to guess, she'd put the girl as no more then twenty one or so.

Five nine with short black hair cut an inch above her neckline, she had flawless porcelain skin, classic features, and eyes so deeply brown as to be almost as dark as her hair. Wearing only the slightest trace of makeup, the young woman was a breathtaking beauty. More than once, Claire had caught Clark sneaking a look at the well-proportioned body beneath the open dark blue smock she wore, her ample bust clearly visible against a form fitting t-shirt.

'Boys will be boys,' Claire thought, recalling that her nephew had only recently turned eleven, just about the age his father had been when he'd begun to really notice the differences in the opposite sex.

The thought of those days brought a smile as Claire recalled the lengths Brian, who was three years her junior, would go to in order to catch similar glimpses of her high school girlfriends. Especially in the case of Judy Mitchell, who, ever since she had quite spectacularly hit puberty, took an almost perverse delight in wearing tops guaranteed to give the boys, and even a few of their fathers, impure thoughts.

Putting the memory aside, Claire turned her attention back to the woman before her. Despite the lack of any family resemblance, and given the multi-generational nature of the business -- it had been started by the current owner's grandfathers -- she wondered if the young woman might be a daughter that took more after her mother in appearance.

"All done," said the woman whose name Claire later learned was Adrianna said, holding up a large hand mirror so that Clark could see the back of his head.

Moving his head right and left, Clark satisfied himself that the cut met his standards. Deciding it did, he turned back to Adrianna and smiled, vocalizing his appreciation of her efforts.

"Always glad to have a satisfied customer," Adrianna replied as she unclipped the collar of the protective cape Clark had been wearing, shaking it clean as scattered hair clippings dropped to the floor.

As Clark jumped out of the chair, Adrianna reached for a nearby broom and used it and a dustpan on a pole to quickly sweep up the scattered hair; the motions giving Clark an even better opportunity to admire her well-formed bust as her unbuttoned smock swung open.

With an appreciative smile on his face, Clark headed for the rack on the far wall where Bruce had already retrieved his own jacket. As he did, Claire reached into her purse and withdrew a number of large denomination bills, thinking as she did that the boys' cuts had cost more than twice what she'd remembered her Dad's and Brian's costing.

Cash in hand, Claire stepped toward the old fashioned register where Adrianna was writing up a receipt on an equally old time billing pad. Tearing off the top sheet and a carbon, the dark haired woman impaled the original on a tall spike on the counter, atop a pile that showed it had indeed been a profitable morning.

"And a copy for you," Adrianna said with a warm smile as she handed the other sheet to Claire, accepting at the same time the bills in her other hand. Her smile grew noticeably larger as the older woman motioned for her to keep the difference.

Thinking the handwritten receipt quaint in a world of ATM cards and Smart Phone transactions, Claire was about to simply slip it into her pocket when she noticed that Adrianna had written something across the bottom of it. Much to the older woman's surprise, it was her name and number, along with the notation to give her a call.

"I'm afraid I already have a stylist," Claire said, assuming the young woman was simply trying to drum up business.

"And she does excellent work," Adrianna said in reference to Claire's shoulder length blonde hair, "but I, well, I don't normally do things like this, at least not at work, but from the way you kept staring at me while I was cutting your nephew's hair, I thought that perhaps you might like to have a drink sometime."

"A drink?" Claire repeated, confusion evident in her tone and expression.

"I guess I read it wrong," Adrianna quickly replied, Claire's reaction prompting her reply. "I hope you're not offended."

"Read it wrong?" Claire repeated, still not understanding what had just happened.

Realizing that, Adrianna felt obligated to offer more of an explanation.

"Like I said, I normally don't do things like this, giving my number to women I don't even know," she began, "but it seemed like every time I glanced into the wall mirror, I could see your eyes on me. Not seeing a ring on your finger or anything, I thought, well, I thought it worth letting you know that if you were interested, I ...Oh never mind, I was wrong and let's just leave it at that."

'Oh my goodness,' Claire thought, finally realizing what the woman was talking about.

She also realized that perhaps she had encouraged the assumption by spending what now did indeed seem an inappropriate amount of time staring at her. If anything, she should be the one apologizing. Before she did, however, she glanced back over her shoulder, making sure that her nephews were too far away to have overheard the exchange.

Satisfied that they were, she apologized for her part in the misunderstanding, explaining that her interest had been motivated solely by the inconsistency between Adrianna's presence and the memories of her youth.

"No harm done," the short haired girl smiled, "and again, I hope it didn't offend you."

For the second time, Claire glanced backward to check on the boys and their distance, taking note that Clark now had his coat on and both of them had impatient looks on their faces. Well, they could wait another minute, she thought.

"Not at all. If anything, I guess I should be flattered," Claire said in an equally low voice, alluding to their obvious age difference. "It's been a long time since anyone..."

"I find that hard to believe," Adrianna interrupted, making it clear she thought Claire an attractive woman.

Whatever response Claire might have made next was interrupted by the appearance of Bruce at her side, querying if they were ready to go. Saying that they would be a moment, she turned back toward Adrianna, only to find that the young woman was already seating her next customer in the recently vacated chair.

The moment having passed, she slipped the receipt into her pocket and followed Bruce toward his brother, who was waiting by the door.

-=-=-=-

Thirty minutes later, sitting in a booth at the Emporium, Claire discovered the brief conversation in the barber shop still on her mind. She'd barely touched the dish of ice cream now melting in front of her, and Bruce, who had quickly finished his, was offering to see that it didn't go to waste. With a half smile, she slid it over towards him.

With Bruce's attention now on the additional treat, and Clark's centered on a quartet of girls from his school in an adjacent booth, Claire allowed her mind to wander. As it did, it touched on an unrealized truth.

Her explanation as to why she had been staring at Adrianna was indeed true, but only partially so. Even if Claire hadn't realized it at the time, the attractive young woman had reawakened thoughts in the divorcee that had been dormant for so many years that she had failed to recognize them.

A decade before, while attending college in San Francisco, Claire had gone through a bisexual period. Being twenty-five hundred miles from home and everyone she knew had allowed her the freedom to explore her curiosity about Sapphic love. She had never considered it anything more than a bit of experimentation, a gay until graduation phase that she had left behind with the California sun. After all, once back home, she'd led a more conventional sex life, as least as far as gender was concerned. One which involved a number of men, until she finally found the one she'd married.

Claire had met Dave Mooney, who was six years her senior, at a New Year's Eve party a few years after coming back East. Fellow architects, they seemed to hit it off almost immediately and in what, in hindsight, now seemed much too short a time, they went from dating exclusively to living together to walking down the aisle.

After the honeymoon, they settled into a comfortable life, both growing professionally and personally, each secure of the other's support. The sex hadn't been bad either; the only disappointment in that regard being that it hadn't led to children. As time went on, however, things began to slowly change.

Even now, looking back, Claire couldn't explain why what had been passionate fires had inexplicably cooled. There was never any single incident she could point to, only the realization that, without warning and in a very brief time, they inexplicably went from lovers to little more than roommates -- at much too young an age for the marriage to survive. They'd tried for almost a year to rekindle the spark, but found little success. Finally, by mutual consent, they faced the inevitable and dissolved the marriage. That had been eight months ago.

Dropping her nephews off at her brother's apartment, Claire continued around the block to her parents' home. For the first six months after the divorce, she'd sublet an apartment from a co-worker working on an assignment out in the Midwest. When that was no longer an option, she'd accepted her father's offer of the basement apartment that had been originally built for her grandmother.

Originally, she'd only planned to stay a week or two, certainly no more than a month -- just long enough to get her life back on track and find her own place. Eventually, however, the convenience of being only a short train ride to her office in lower Manhattan proved irresistible, and she was still there.

Her parents were away for the weekend, and with nothing to do until later that evening, Claire decided to catch up on the laundry. That was another advantage of having moved back home, a washer and dryer that wasn't several blocks away at a commercial Laundromat.

Loading up the washer, she was about to close the top when she noticed a stain on her blouse. Without a second thought, she pulled it off and added it to the load. Then, deciding she might as well wash the whole outfit, she tossed the rest in as well. Standing totally naked, she turned on the machine and exited back to the renovated half of the basement.

Pulling an oversized t-shirt from a drawer, she was about to put it on, then paused as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the bureau. Even two years past the dreaded thirtieth birthday, Claire had to say she was still satisfied with the body looking back at her.

At just a hair under five ten, she still weighed close to what she had in college. Her breasts might not have been the sort that drew her nephew's interest earlier, but she couldn't recall ever having a complaint about them.

The bush over her mound was naturally lightly haired, generally eliminating her need for more than casual grooming. Once, as a surprise for Dave, she had shaved it totally bare. That was a mistake that hadn't been repeated. The memory of how much it had itched until it grew back still stayed with her.

Turning around and looking back over her shoulder, her gaze rolled down her back and across the cheeks of her ass. She still had the same 'killer ass' that had drawn attention back in high school.

The ring of her cell phone interrupted that thought and, stepping over to the table where she'd left it, she saw the name of Judy Levy on the display. Judy's own marriage hadn't lasted two years, but she insisted on keeping her husband's name to remind everyone that she had been married to Yale Levy, DDS, who was considered the catch of their graduating class. Ever since Claire had moved back home, Judy had been trying to reintegrate her into the social life of the neighborhood. Not sure if that was something she wanted, Claire had begged off for the last three weekends, but finally agreed to go out for a drink tonight.

"All ready for tonight, girlfriend?" Judy asked once the obligatory greetings were out of the way.

"I guess so," Claire replied, still unsure if this was a good idea. "But I've been thinking and maybe..."

"Let's have none of that," Judy interrupted. "We're going out and you're going to have a good time whether you want to or not. Who knows, maybe we'll even get you laid."

Even though she laughed afterward, Claire knew that Judy was serious. In the brief time they'd had to become reacquainted, Claire had discovered that, as far as the curvaceous brunette was concerned, the party that had been high school had never ended. Every weekend was still party time.

Not that Claire was opposed to the possibility. It had been nearly a year since she'd had sex and she did miss it. More so since she'd learned that, two months ago, Dave had started dating a woman in his office. According to common friends, the relationship had already progressed to the bedroom.

Claire had actually met the woman now sharing Dave's bed at the last office Christmas party. Three years her junior, making her nearly a decade younger than Dave, Sharon McCord had struck Claire as the sort who used her admittedly impressive physical attributes to gain what her less developed intellect couldn't. She'd never thought that was Dave's type, but then again, after having been a dutiful husband, perhaps he was now just looking for a bit of unadulterated fun.

"Alright, one drink," Claire finally said, deciding that it probably wouldn't hurt her to do the same.

At that, Judy quickly brought the conversation to a close before Claire had a chance to change her mind.

'Well, if I am going out,' Claire thought as she said her own goodbye, 'I guess I should start getting ready.'

Luckily, the renovations to the basement apartment had included its own water line, so it was possible to use the shower even though there was also a load in the washer. Returning the unused t-shirt back to the drawer she had taken it from, Claire pulled out an oversized towel from the linen closet and, carrying it under her arm, headed for the bathroom.

Turning on the water, careful to apply the right mix of cold and hot to make it comfortable, Claire let it run for a few minutes before stepping into the phone booth sized shower. The warm spray felt good against her skin, the heat of it penetrating deep into her muscles. Taking a loofah from a hook on the wall, she covered it with body wash from a bottle on the ledge below.

Starting in the middle of her stomach, Claire began to move her hand outward in expanding concentric circles, sliding across and between her breasts until, reaching the top of her arc, reversing direction down to between her legs. From there it was onto the cheeks of her ass and above it her lower back. In no time at all, the bulk of her body was covered in thick, soapy foam.

Unexpectedly, Claire felt a pleasing tingle dance across her wet flesh. It had been a long time since she'd had such a quick reaction, especially to something as gentle as just a touch. In recent years, she had become accustomed to the idea that it took a lot more effort to get her motor running. Whatever the reason, however, she was more than happy to simply enjoy the result without overanalyzing the cause.

Bringing both hands up to her breasts, Claire squeezed the soft flesh, feeling her pert nipples grow hard. Ever since they had first begun to develop in her pre-teens, she had always loved playing with her breasts and their highly sensitive tips. Her college experiences had allowed her to appreciate what boys saw in them.

Leaving one hand on her breasts, Claire dropped the other back between her legs, letting out a soft sigh as her fingers ran across the length of her pussy. Then, parting the folds, she continued onto the even more responsive flesh within.

If her first touch had been electric, her second proved explosive, thrilling tremors cascading outward as, with eyes tightly closed, she leaned back against the tin wall. Again, the intensity and urgency of her arousal surprised her, not being able to remember the last time she'd felt this horny.

"Oh yes," Claire said softly as she furiously fingerfucked herself, the waves of delight radiating outward. "That feels so good!"

What had started as a spark became a flame, and soon roared into a conflagration. One that caused her body to quake in a mindless frenzy as she teetered on the precipice of orgasm.

Her lips formed a silent O as the raging inferno exploded within her, causing her legs and arms to go weak as waves of joy rippled up and down her form. She couldn't remember the last time she had come so hard.

Standing under the slowly cooling stream from above, it took a few minutes for Claire to regain her composure. Eventually, her heartbeat slowed to normal, as did the frequency of her breaths. A pleasing thought filled her mind.

'If that's not a sign that things are going to be better, I don't know what is,' Claire thought, taking a few last moments to rinse her body of the more resistant traces of her climax before shutting the water off.

-=-=-=-

'Now this place certainly has changed,' Claire thought as she looked out from the bar at Starlight.

The popular nightspot had been a favorite hangout the summer between high school and college. Now, the music blaring out from the loudspeakers was nothing she recognized, but it did seem to resonate with the majority of the crowd around her. A crowd that seemed so damned young. Or was it that, next to them, she felt so much older?

Age didn't seem to be a concern for Judy, however, as she flirted and accepted drinks from young men who, while not quite young enough to be her sons, were nevertheless a half generation junior. Even her outfit was something that Claire couldn't have imagined wearing, even when she was the age when it might have been considered appropriate.

Whereas the architect wore a light blue short sleeved blouse and black skirt combo, flattering but still respectable, Judy was decked out in a low cut blouse that left little to the imagination. Especially since she'd gone braless beneath, her dark nipples clearly visible. Additionally, her skirt was so short that it barely qualified as one, the amount of material involved barely enough to conceal the fact that she'd also gone without panties. As daring as it might be, Claire had to admit, her old friend still had the body to pull it off.