Bimbo Salon - Girl's Day Out

"I am hardly a prize, Mister Bimbeau." She said meekly. "A woman of my age with a grown child does not receive as much attention from the opposite sex as she once did."

"But you are a prize, Madame. Your inner beauty shines like an uncut diamond and it is by means of my art that I shall bring that to the surface and reveal that truth to you." The bombastic beautician protested as he combed back her fringe. "A prize worth possessing, and I must insist again that you call me Claude."

This was how the last few minutes had gone. Monsieur Claude would make some grand sweeping statement for Courtney to sidestep in a self deprecating manner, inciting the little man to fits of flattery. It may have been playing to his stadium-sized ego but it kept proceedings on a civil, borderline friendly footing.

Always a good idea when the person in question was waving sharp cutting instruments around your vulnerable earlobes.

The kind words were welcome too. Especially when wrapped up in that cultured accent. Much nicer than being called 'Babe' or 'Toots' by the odorous Jack Shefield, who had more money than taste and a lecherous grin.

Though he did have wide shoulders and had avoided the middle-aged gut for the most part. No gray at his temples yet either.

"Do you have any family, Claude?" She asked, lobbing the topic of conversation back onto the fastidious fashionista and away from thoughts of her disagreeable client. "A lovely wife back home in France, perhaps?"

"Alas, but pursuing my art has consumed my life. A small sacrifice for the chance to create works of greatness..." Monsieur Claude paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully with an ivory brush handle. "I have a cousin in Belgium, though he has recently moved here to America to start a new business. An artisanal bakery, if you can believe it. Ha! The laughable title makes him sound like an artist of bread dough."

Courtney smiled along politely as he resumed his cutting, combing and prattling. It was a much needed break from her work-centric lifestyle.

A growing part of her resented that she couldn't afford to take more time like this for herself. More time to spend with Violet before she left the nest for good, or simply set aside the back-breaking load of responsibility once in a while.

"It isn't healthy for a woman of your many fine qualities to push yourself so hard. It's unwise. Unbecoming." Monsieur Claude continued, as though plucking her thoughts straight out of her mind. "You are a precious flower that has been exposed to the harsh weather of the modern age. Drooping and wilting. I have made it my mission today to nurse you back to full bloom. A perfect rose to be nurtured and cherished by a man worthy of your elegance and beauty."

Courtney could feel her cheeks heating at the barrage of unalloyed compliments and took another sip of the Bubbles to hide her flustered face.

A worthy man, huh? Meeting a man like that didn't sound so terrible...

The chilled fruity wine went down a treat but did little to quell her quickening heartbeat. The small confines of the room were beginning to feel uncomfortably warm, her smart business outfit uncomfortably tight. The crisp buttoned blouse was constricting her breathing, and the pinching strap of her straightforward cotton bra was digging into the soft flesh of her armpit.

"You are very kind to say so..." Courtney began, before a rap on the door frame drew their attention back to the curtained entrance.

"Ah, that will be Celine coming to assist in the selection of your new wardrobe." Monsieur Claude calmly informed her. " She is an immensely talented couturier and will have you looking like your best self. You do wish to look your best, do you not, Madame?"

She did, of course she did.

What woman didn't want to look their best? Especially as she began to tug surreptitiously at her ill-fitting clothes. Courtney would have liked to inspect what was going on down there but the awfully comfortable cutting cape blanketed her body from view and she felt loath to remove it.

"Yes, but I might need a minute--" She squirmed.

"Marvelous! Please come in, Celine. You may commence the fashion consultation while I finish styling Madame's hair."

"Oui Monsieur." The prim assistant stepped briskly inside, wheeling a full hanging rack of feminine clothing behind her.

________________

Violet giggled and wiggled in the chair as Adam leaned over her again to spritz her platinum tresses with hairspray and train another curl into place with a silver brush.

She used the opportunity to bury her nose into his burly chest and take a deep inhale of his manly musk. It was almost as good as the Bubbles, the second bottle of which dangled loosely in her left hand. He smelt like polished leather, rock salt and a hint of campfire smoke.

Better yet the hunky assistant either didn't mind--or was too absorbed in his work to notice--that she was breathing him every time he bent close to sculpt her voluminous hair.

Gawd but she was wet and steamy as a tropical monsoon down below. The ass of her skinny jeans soaked through with her girly nectar and slippery against the vinyl seat cushion.

Violet softly moaned as he straightened and moved around to attack the other side of her spinning skull. Half opening her heavy lidded eyes, she smiled at the girl reflected in the mounted wall mirror.

She was sexy as a centerfold with rouged cheeks, shadowy eyeliner, and scarlet painted lips that looked pumped as two flotation devices on her made-up face. Adam's tireless efforts on her silvery blonde hair was the real show-stopper though. Through the mystical application of pins, clips and wishes, he had wrangled the wavy golden mess into a high puffy chignon bun with thick drill curl bangs spiraling all the way down to her shoulders.

"Oh Adam, you're, like, totally amazing!" She flushed before taking another pull on the wine bottle and stifling a burp. Her thighs squeezed together again and her pretty pussy throbbed in burning need. "I look like a smoking hot version of Cinderella!"

"I am pleased you are satisfied, Miss Vi." He said with the ghost of a smile on his chiseled face as he carefully teased a few more strands out of her shiny bun to dangle down behind her slender neck. "Our clients' happiness is paramount here at Bimbeau's Salon."

Violet let the bottle rest in the thick crease of her cleavage which was pushing out the yellow blanket thingamajiggy more than it should. Jeepers but had she worn a push-up bra this morning? She couldn't rightly recall through the cloying clouds of perfumed hairspray and Adam's overwhelmingly masculine scent, but it looked as though she was smuggling a pair of winter melons under the warm draping fabric.

"Um, I don't know if I'm completely satisfied yet..." She purred, fucking him with her smoky hazel eyes through the mirror. "But I can think of a few ways we might work out a happy ending that both of us would enjoy."

He met her heated stare with placid professionalism and a curt nod of his handsome head, before standing and turning away.

"Next up, I shall showcase a selection of outfits for you to choose from to complete your new look. Your input is encouraged and appreciated, Miss Vi."

"Hurry back, Stud." She called after him, licking her lush ruby lips at the glimpse of the prominent bulge outlined in his tented slacks as he retreated. "I miss you already."

________________

"...and this skirt is part of last season's Dior line, the vertical lines would accentuate your legs and classic figure perfectly."

Celine displayed a high-waisted, cherry-striped swing skirt that flared out at the bottom and would probably reach down past Courtney's knees.

"Oh... I just don't know." She replied, feeling pressured and wishing there was a more decisive presence by her side to make the decision for her. "It looks a little... old-fashioned, doesn't it?"

It was the seventh or, maybe eighth, article of clothing that the raven-haired assistant had presented for Courtney's approval and all of them had seemed outdated. Last century. She was more accustomed to the charcoal pencil skirts and pressed cotton blouses commonly found in the women's business wear section of ethically sourced and affordable brand name stores.

Everything she had seen so far had appeared unironically rockabilly at best. Reeked of early boomer fashion at worst.

"You do the term 'old-fashioned' a disservice, Madame, when using it as criticism." Claude protested, wrapping thick lengths of her glowing caramel hair around a heat wand. "Think back to your childhood. Are there not values and customs you miss from those simpler times? Things that seem lacking in the social moorings of the present day?"

Well, of course there were. Everything moved so quickly now.

Information and technology. Gender identity and politics. Flash fire trends and the myriad new ways people could suddenly interact. Courtney had barely got a grip on using virtual marketplaces to promote her property listings before her competition was launching camera drones for live streamed showings.

She could still remember when Google street view was the eighth wonder of the world.

That was over fifteen years ago and the avalanche of advancement had only gathered momentum since then.

"This rib-knit, off the shoulder tee would emphasize your bust and neck nicely." Celine offered, holding up a sheer black short-sleeve top with a dipping neckline. "Maybe attract the gaze of that special someone in your life?"

"There... There isn't..."

"Madame Courtney is a woman of quality and refinement, Celine." Claude admonished pointedly, misting Courtney's backcombed updo with aerosol before applying the hot curler again. "She needs to see and feel how the clothing suits her before making a decision. Not buying directly off the rack like a peasant."

"My apologies, Monsieur and Madame." Celine made a contrite bow, then reached around to unclip the pastel pink drape from Courtney's neck. With a flourish she whipped it away like a magician stealing a tablecloth from beneath a five course dining setting. "With your permission, I shall begin with your skirt."

Looking down at herself, Courtney experienced a serious bout of disassociation. Several buttons of her business blouse had popped loose and the swollen squeeze of her creamy breasts in the white satin bra was out and at large by every possible definition.

The charcoal fabric of her pencil skirt was pulled taut, constricting a set of rounded hips and full thighs that the overworked, undernourished property agent couldn't make fit into the sketch outline of her scrawny self-image.

Especially with a head full of fizzing bubbles and acrid hairspray. A distracting moistness gathering in her loins.

"Wha--What?"

"She will assist you in dressing while we chat and I craft living art!" Claude raved with a flourish of his scissors. "Celine is a consummate professional and shall remain discreet as she works."

"Please excuse me, Madame." The enchanting Frenchwoman whispered, deftly unzipping the side of the tightening skirt and firmly wiggling it down Courtney's trembling legs. "Oh my... are those spanks? Those won't do for you at all."

Courtney was mortified. Of course they were spanks. She hadn't left the house that morning with any intention of revealing her unmentionables to anyone and a woman of her age sometimes needed the added support in certain embarrassing areas.

Except now it appeared that she didn't.

The soft bulge of her belly was slowly receding and the signs of any sag around her saddle region were visibly shoring up. Even the skin of her abdomen looked firmer and healthier than it had any right too. Perfectly smooth, hairless and warm under the other woman's tender touch.

Clucking her tongue, Celine reached for the waistband with a shake of her pretty head.

"I believe we were discussing the sad state of present affairs when compared to our younger days." Claude spoke up from behind a mountain of glossy caramel tresses. "You were telling me what you miss from those early years. What has been callously discarded on the wayside of progress."

She was?

Courtney couldn't tear her eyes away from the manicured fingers of the gorgeous assistant as they gently peeled away her underwear to expose the flawlessly changed flesh hidden beneath. The elasticated material coming away with a scruff of coarse brown hair stuck to a moist patch on the gusset.

Celine was face-to-mound with her freshly bared womanhood, giving it an approving nod before looking up to meet her wide-eyed stare and held a forefinger to her silently mouthing lips.

One single word.

Discretion.

"Um, oh yes. As you said, Monsieur. Ah... simpler times." Courtney dithered, her mouth dry as old shoe leather. Another sip of Bubbles calmed her nerves. "Slower times too. Everything seemed more straight forward back then. Less confusing."

"Exactement, Madame. You strike the nail on the head, and you must call me Claude." He insisted again, the quiet hiss of his heat wand accompanying the hot breath she blew out from between her teeth as Celine traced that same forefinger over her dewy cleft. "Easier times indeed. People today are so eager to dismiss the previous generation's values and traditions without examining why they came to prominence in the first place.

"They label such views as irrelevant or old-fashioned in the current socio-political climate. One that is fractured by tribal identity and division rather than the harmonious unity of communities standing beside one another and the security that is found in the clear definition of roles."

Courtney moaned an affirmative mumble as Celine dredged two slim fingers through her wetness and gathered the slick honey up over her budding clit. She gnawed on her bottom lip as the strictly-attired assistant painted sweet circles there before raising the dripping digits to her smirking lips for a taste.

"Sure... Yes, Claude. Ummm~, what you just said..."

"It has been postulated that there are only three roles required to sustain civilization; the doctor, the teacher and the lawkeeper. The first heals, the second passes on knowledge and learning, the last maintains peaceful coexistence." Claude ranted, his voice badly muffled under a load of toffee-colored locks as he continued to comb, curl and cut. "No one mentions the oldest profession anymore; motherhood. A proud woman bearing and raising her young. Nurturing and guiding them through the trials and tribulations of life's many harsh lessons."

"Madame needs cleaning down here before she can be properly dressed." Celine purred softly, lowering her modelesque face into the valley of Courtney's spreading thighs. "I shall attend... discreetly.

Courtney's back arched and her lush hips bucked in the seat as the raven-haired assistant began to lap languidly at her soaked pussy. Long and slow, Celine's pink tongue ran in broad strokes, parting her hairless folds and licking up her steamy nectar.

It was all Courtney could do to suppress a hitched cry of ecstasy and sit still in the chair.

How long had it been? How long since anyone, man or woman, had paid her physical needs any attention. Evidently too long if her heightened reactions were any indication.

Courtney's fingernails dug into the armrests as she fought to control her breathing. Needing desperately to tell the other woman to stop before Claude discovered their sapphic infraction. Needing desperately for her to continue until the roiling pressure in her boiling core found sweetest release.

"--it became gauche for a female to depend upon another for support." Gosh, but Claude was still rabbiting on back there. "Heaven's forbid it's a man fulfilling a duty of protection and provision that millennia of evolution has bred into them. Sooner fault a duck for swimming than blame a man for following his primal imperatives.

"Because it's not ownership, as the huckstering so-called intellectuals would have you believe... It's a partnership! A joyous union reaching back to the birth of humanity. Two halves, otherwise incomplete without each other, forming a beautiful whole. Don't you agree, Madame?"

A man? Courtney hadn't had a man in years and a certain overstimulated hole of her own was suddenly feeling the lack despite Celine's masterful ministrations.

She really should seek one out when all this salon business was said and done. Find a steady, reliable guy and really put him through his paces... but who did she know?

...Then Celine did something particularly clever with her twisting tongue and Courtney seized up in an explosion of heart-stopping, pussy-squirting, face-drenching rapture.

"Yeeessss~, oh fuck YES!"

"Bless you, Madame. I knew you would understand."

________________

Violet was sucking a cock.

Not just any cock though. It was Adam's brawny, meaty cock that stuffed her barely-legal mouth full and crushed her uvular to the back of her throat. It felt like he was rough-riding her damn tonsils.

It had taken him long enough.

She kept her hazel eyes open wide and gazing up at the dark-haired young buck as she sloppily slurped at his engorged tip. Eagerly pumping his impressive shaft with both hands, liberally lubricated with her drooling saliva and glistening wetly under the bright overhead lights.

Adam, for his part, stood like a granite monolith above her kneeling form. He would occasionally reach down to adjust a few silvery hairs here, curl an errant lock back there, but wasn't particularly responsive apart from his intense smoky stare down at Violet and his obvious arousal which threatened to choke off her oxygen supply.

"Gah! What's the matter, Stud?" She slurred, taking a break from sucking yummy dick to wash down his salty flavor with a swig from her third bottle of Bubbles. "Not enjoying the show?"

The wine just made everything easier. Frothing and foaming happily in her flat belly, as all the giggly carbonation seemed to rise to her airy head and inflating tits. She could feel it filling out her expanding chest like two sloshing water balloons. It had smoothed out her gag reflex too--a blissful blessing as Violet had always been more about the wind up than the follow through with boys her own age.

Not a natural born cock-sucker. At least until now.

"That isn't the case at all, Miss Vi." Adam assured, he was still fully dressed except where she had unzipped his fly. There were smeared crimson lipstick stains along his beefy member as evidence of her ardent oral efforts. "I merely remain cognizant of my position as your humble stylist and did not wish to interfere in your expression of passion."

Maundering fucking artists. Couldn't he see how much she wanted him?

Violet glared a challenge up at Adam as she lodged his bulbous crown between her puckered lips and nursed hungrily at the furious tip.

"Interfere away, Stud." She lisped, tonguing his dilated urethra. "Show me what you got."

Her eyes flicked off to one side to view the two of them in a wall-to-ceiling mirror. They looked sooo~ fucking hot together.

Violet on her knees--brilliantly blonde, hugely busty and looking drop-dead sexy in a black zebra embossed micro dress with cut-outs on the chest and sides--lip locked around the handsome hunk's hefty cock head. Adam standing so tall and well-built above her, perfectly groomed and put together, letting her show appreciation in the most sensual way possible.

He had picked out her slinky little dress and the open toed lace-up pumps with seven inch stiletto heels which were currently crossed under her wriggling rump. The fuzzy white cropped coat currently folded beneath her fishnetted knees for comfort too. Huge hoop earrings dangled prettily from her ears and a diamante studded choker glistened around her neck