Return to Podash

Shrugging, Tracy urged her to lean back. Soon the water was coursing over her scalp and she was washing Carrie's scalp. "I say it was bad luck but everyone else says it was bad behavior that landed me here. Anyway, I'm getting used to it now. Not too much longer and I'll be eighteen and I can leave. Any preference on shampoo?"

"No, you can choose."

"I'll use something that will give you body. You never know how your hair will react getting it cut."

"You mean like rebound relationships?"

Tracy laughed. "Yeah, the bounce is sometimes worse than the initial drop."

Carrie closed her eyes as Tracy began to work the lather through her hair. She didn't speak unless spoken to because this was just how she liked it. Perhaps if she kept her eyes closed, and wished hard enough, she'd sit back up once Tracy was through and discover her hair was still wonderfully long and silky smooth.

But no matter how hard she tried to meditate her way back to long hair, there was no denying the quick, slippery way Tracy's fingers continued to slide through the short locks.

In what seemed like seconds, Tracy turned off the water and announced, "All done, Miss Carpenter."

As she sat up, a towel was wrapped turban style around her head. Once it was secured with a clip, the damp one around her neck was removed and replaced with a dry one.

Tracy leaned in to add, "We can go back to Betty Lou's station. She'll be ready for you soon."

Feeling wobbly in her knees, Carrie followed the dark haired teen back into the main area of the beauty shop. All the chairs were in use and this time she saw several younger girls had been brought in.

"Just have a seat, Carrie," Betty Lou called out from where she was working on a girl who looked to be no more thirteen.

Tracy touched her arm. "You can have a seat here," and she pointed to where the first bank of dryer stations started. As she straightened, she muttered under her breath, "Say goodbye hair, kiddo."

Startled, Carrie looked from Tracy to Betty Lou's chair.

"Sit still, Ellen. Betty Lou will get out the chair cuffs if we have to restrain you like a baby."

Ellen shook her head, causing her mid-back length brown hair to swing from side to side. "I don't want my hair cut. I take care of it myself. No one has to do anything for me."

Her mother shook her head. "Don't be silly Ellen. You don't want to stand out in your class, do you?"

"There are other girls refusing to let their mothers cut their hair. I'm not alone."

Betty Lou turned the chair the girl was in. "You're wrong, Ellen. Three more girls from class have come in since you came back here. Now stop wiggling or I might cut your ear off!"

The fight flowed right out of the girl. In no time at all, as if Betty Lou put a bowl on the girl's head, but tipped it so the low end was in the nape, her brown hair was cut in the shape, with the bangs being the lip of bowl, high on her forehead. Her temples were shaved to fit the high curve, as well as the nape shaved to meet the short back.

Tears crept down her cheeks as Ellen left the chair.

The other girls didn't say a word as she walked past them. The fear of their own fates kept them silent.

As Betty Lou called her over, the woman at the next station brought back another one of the teen girls. This one had bright coppery curls that went wildly all over her shoulders. The woman shook her as she wrapped a cape around her shoulders.

Betty Lou leaned over and asked softly, "What did her mother suggest?"

"Short. I'm afraid if I got the traditional two inches, it will stick straight out from her head in corkscrew curls, or worse, bent wire."

"Then you have no choice Cora. You'll have to do a short back and sides, and leave a little length on top. Possibly by her second cut, you'll have a better idea of what her hair at this length will do."

Carrie tore her eyes away from the young girl's face. Just the words of short back and sides didn't bode well for anyone's haircut.

Betty Lou removed the towel on her head. "Alright, dearie, let's get started."

Carrie tried to follow what was happening.

Betty Lou sectioned off her hair, halfway round to start, and one inch above her ears. Soon she had a ponytail off the top of her head. Before she could form a question, a buzzing sound indicated something else was going to happen.

"Chin down, dear. I'll do the super short undercut first. The longer this is the more your sides poke out over your ears."

There was nothing to be said so she watched in horror as the inch of straight hair still hanging down was now buzzed to within an eighth of its life. When Betty Lou moved to the side, she gingerly lifted her fingers to try and grab hold of some, but there wasn't any left.

Betty Lou removed the clips and her hair fell down.

For the first time she decided her hair didn't look too bad.

Betty Lou didn't wait before she gathered hair up to the top of her head. This time she left a strip that went from top of her ear, more even with her temple and draping over the top curve.

This new curtain of thin hair was now cut to end half an inch above the highest part of her ear. Betty Lou caught each section in her comb, turning it slightly before cutting. Finally all of her remaining hair was released. Betty Lou combed it quickly down all around her hair. Again she began combing, and then catching each small section with her comb, catching it, lifting it and snipping. As the hair fell Betty Lou stopped to comb it into place, making sure it curved under. If not, she repeated her efforts. When the older woman reached the back of her head, Carrie could clearly how her hair looked.

Above the cape, her neck looked long. Her face looked rounder. Sitting atop her head, almost like a beret, was a golden red hair, except it didn't seem like it was hers.

Muffin top.

That's what it looked like.

The run over part of one of really big, oversized muffins.

She loved those huge muffins, especially cranberry macadamia nut or banana nut.

Hated one on her head!

Betty Lou had reached the other side of her head. She spent a few seconds working on her bangs. Then she combed it all out and spent a long time combing and snipping again to make sure she hadn't missed any stray hairs.

"Alright. Now we'll put you under the diffuser to dry you out before we do your makeup."

The machine was blaring loudly before Carrie could formulate a question regarding the subject of makeup.

"I really should have read the fine print," she muttered under her breath.

She lost track of how long she was there. Eventually the dryer was turned off. Gratefully she let herself be led to a different area. It resembled the main parlor, except the mirror was lit more brightly but the chair the same. Another woman had taken over, directing her to the makeup area.

"My name is Earlene. I'll be teaching you how to apply the correct amount of makeup as well as instructing you as to what is not allowed. Do you have basic knowledge?"

"Yes, I've been using all kinds since I was twelve."

Betty Lou, never really that far away, overheard her answer. "Oh dear me that would never be allowed around here. That's why the young girls here get their hair cut early.

Earlene nodded her head. "Those three girls today all were late getting their cuts. One of them had been caught slipping out at night to meet a boy. Since the three were friends, it was decided they all get cut together."

Betty Lou nodded. "Either that way or perhaps the school board will finally agree to change the age."

Earlene had already opened a bottle of foundation. Using a white sponge, she began to dab it all over Carrie's face. She ended at her jaw line, making a perfect line that was quite obvious.

Carrie could see immediately the color was the wrong shade for her. "Uh, it seems a little too dark. It should blend into my skin and be invisible."

"No. Your base is to show you are wearing it. Now we'll put nice blush on your cheeks."

Pink was circled on each cheek. If she smiled it would be sitting on each "apple." A bright pink lipstick was brought out.

Carrie made an "o" copying the example of Earlene.

The other woman applied a thick layer of the pink lipstick, which Carrie was sure was an exact match to blush used seconds earlier.

Miss Cavendish appeared over her shoulder a few seconds later. "Good, we're done. Come along. We're running behind."

Earlene quickly placed the cosmetics into a bag and placed it in Carrie's limp grasp. "There you go. We carry any refills you might need."

Carrie struggled to follow Mary. "My bags..."

"They are already in the car. Hurry now."

Having to reopen the door, Carrie rushed again. As she hurried after the retreating figure, she had one over ruling thought—

I must have fallen down the rabbit hole!

Chapter Four

Carrie stopped abruptly when she saw Mary had stopped beside a large black town car.

Mary opened the door, leaning down to look inside. She appeared to be speaking to someone and then she straightened up and looked at Carrie. "Come along, Miss. We're running late." She stepped back to hold the door open.

Carrie entered the back of the car with trepidation. She'd never ridden in a car this nice before. As she sat down, the leather seat enveloped her. Looking forward, she saw the driver had the dividing window lowered. She guessed that was who Miss Cavendish had been speaking.

A large three ring binder bounced onto a lap a second after the car started forward.

"That is your employee handbook. Your contract is inside, as well as everything we've covered today. Inside you'll find your expectations as far as your work hours and leisure hours are concerned. You'll travel to and from the office each day via the town car. Harold will most likely be your driver, but that could vary depending on whether he is required elsewhere. If you don't have any questions, I'll have Harold drop me off and leave you free to start reading."

Carrie sat frozen, unable to force the words out.

The lipstick must have glued her lips together!

Not ten minutes later, Carrie was alone in the back of car. The binder was open on her lap, but she couldn't make herself read more than two or three words at a time. Not one of stayed in her brain though.

Looking through the darkened windows didn't help because she had no idea where she was going, or how long it would take to get there.

"We've arrived, Miss." Harold called out as the car came to a halt.

She barely had time to close the binder when the rear passenger door opened. A different voice spoke this time.

"This way, Miss. Welcome to the Meadows. My name is John. I am the house steward." He bowed his head just the slightest as she climbed out awkwardly, not used to the longer, narrow skirt.

"Nice to meet you, John. I'm Carrie."

"Please follow me, Carrie. I'll show you to your room. Your boss isn't home yet."

Feeling like there was a brief reprieve, she walked beside John through what she soon realized was a fairly large home. They went up a main staircase that split in two at halfway, to proceed in opposite directions to the second floor.

As they walked, John explained different things about the house, including ways to remember how to get from one place to another. She tried to follow, but most of it was hedge podge and made no sense.

She was shown into a large room that had a sitting area separate from the bedroom. Carrie was impressed and walked into the room as John explained and pointed certain things about the room.

"One of the staff will be back to show you the way downstairs for dinner. You have about two hours until then." He stood by the door.

She guessed that he was wishing himself gone from here. Smiling she nodded. "Thanks a lot, John. Hopefully I figure my way out and about quickly."

"As you please, Miss," he ended, exiting through her bedroom door.

...Carrie rolled over on the bed, luxuriating in the wonderful mattress. She'd kicked her shoes off, removed the undergarments and laid down on the downy silk comforter. It didn't take long before she was sound asleep.

Blinking her eyes, she tried to regain her bearings. Lifting her wrist, she squinted to look at her watch.

"Damn! I forgot I packed it!." she told herself angrily.

"IT's almost seven."

"Eek!" Carrie shrieked in surprise hearing someone else so close to her. Sitting jack-knife straight on the bed, she stared into hypnotically entrancing golden eyes. He blinked once. Carrie noticed the thick black eyelashes surrounded surrounding the golden starbursts his iris. There was a loud buzz going on in her head and she hit the side of her head with the base of her palm.

"I'm sorry for scaring you but I was not sure on how to awaken you."

Carrie shook her head. "It's alright. I should have been up long before now. I don't think I'm supposed to still be lying in bed."

Like a light on inside of her, she took in the appearance of the gorgeous man standing so close she could reach out and touch—

"I came to wake you and show you the way to the dining room for dinner. It's about an hour past when dinner is normally eaten."

"Oh my God!" Carrie shouted and jumped off the bed.

Unfortunately she gave no warning and he didn't move.

The force she hit him with was close to a body slam. Seconds later they were on the floor, in a tangle of arms and legs.

Normally Carrie would have been pushing her hair out of her face. Now she was pre-occupied with the well-built man on the floor with her.

Damn! He was so hot!

Then she realized how close he really was since she'd removed the heavy undergarments before sleep. Pressing down on top of him, she could feel the strong muscles of his chest against the squishy softness of her breasts. Her nipples were hard and rubbed between the silky polyester top and his body, was stimulating to even tighter and longer buds.

She scrambled to try and stand and managed to turn them over, with him now on top of her, pressing down.

His knee shifted as she moved and a second later it pressed intimately against her warmth. Moving his hand, the heat shocked him and he lost his balance. To stop falling on her, he fell on one shoulder, pressing his other hand flat.

Carrie gasped as his big hand cupped around her breast intimately, naturally. Desire rushed through her, the like of which she'd never felt before. All the feelings she'd thought buried or gone came pouring back through her body.

Neither one moved for several long seconds.

Then he smoothly removed all contact between them simultaneously.

She watched as he stood gracefully. All evidence of his previous awkwardness was gone instantly. As he extended one hand to her for assistance, she was reminded of the grace, strength and stealth of a black jaguar, which was partly due to the black shirt and pants he wore. Combined with his night dark hair and tanned skin, he could have easily passed for a pirate.

Bereft of warmth, she felt awkward and stilted as she took his offer of help. Coming upright, she only had to look up a few inches to meet his gaze. "Thank you," she murmured as she ran her hand over her clothes.

"Do you need a little more time to get ready?" the stranger asked quietly.

"The bathroom," she said, embarrassed.

"I'll wait on the sofa over there," he gestured.

Michael Winston walked over to the small settee at the far end of the room. As he looked around, everything looked the same as it had yesterday, even just ten minutes ago. But something was different.

Hell!

He couldn't shake the sense that everything was different.

First thing he wanted to do was punch a couple of friends in the kisser. They had all been in favor of his doing this. Now that she was here, he was pretty sure something was wrong. Or as the cartooned character said, "Vaawy vaawy wong."

Several months earlier his personal assistant had been promoted. The suggestion came up that he use the town's finder service to find a personal assistant, but this time get a woman. Podash didn't attract a lot of women, not like it did men. Nearly all the women here were married, or born into the town. The strict rules for appearance and conduct for women, and men, cut down on affairs and there had been no teen pregnancy for years.

Late one night, after they finished playing poker and a little bit too drunk, he had filled the forms to obtain his assistant along with his friends. By the end of the four page document, each man was drunker and laughed way too much. To his great regret, he had left Danny, a former friend, to take the paperwork and mail it. The next day Michael tried to get it back. And for the first time in years, Danny was up early. On his way to work out, he went by the post office.

Now he was face to face with the consequences.

A real life, breathing, walking and talking woman.

Damn!

What a woman!

If he had sat down and started writing about good qualities, she could have fulfilled his first ten easily. Everything else was nice, but...

Holy Crap!

A noise caused him to turn and he watched as she walked toward him slowly. Immediately he noticed the nice bounce and sway of her full breasts beneath the silky top of her dress. The sweater had been removed, for which he was eternally grateful, even though it went against the details of the contract.

But Hell! He was the one who decided what went in and out of the personal contract and he was making a change. Smiling, he said, "Well, we should probably get going. I can give you a tour of the place after we eat."

She smiled.

Michael felt like he was suddenly punched in his gut. The way her eyes sparkled and the corners of her soft, naturally colored lips turned up on the corners set off fireworks inside. He had not anticipated being this attracted to his assistant.

Sure he'd thought it might be nice if he found her palatable, and the two of them started a companionable affair. Beyond that he'd held little promise.

Of course, she had yet to know who he was...what he was.

Gesturing with his hand, he held open the door.

They stopped on the way downstairs. Michael used a house phone, which she had noticed placed in nooks and crannies along the way.

When they got downstairs, they were greeted and led into a small room where a table for two was set up. As he held her chair, Michael smiled. "It's just the two of us this evening for dinner."

Carrie relaxed when she heard this. Something about this man she'd just met felt comfortable. She was glad to have another day or two to become accustomed to her new looks and surroundings.

As he sat down, he met her gaze. "My name is Michael. Sorry I forgot to introduce myself officially."

"Oh, that's alright. I was just tired and groggy." She stopped as the person dressed in butler livery entered the room. Gesturing with a nod of her head. "I guess dressing correctly is a big thing for the boss."

Michael jerked his head around. "Why do you say that?"

"The fancy costume for the waiter, and my wardrobe has been completely lined out on what I'm supposed to wear. Even now I'm not completely dressed right, or correctly."

He paused in filling their wine glasses. "No one could possibly object to the way you look. Now let's enjoy our meal. I think you'll find the food particularly good. The wine is also exceptional."

Carrie shrugged. "I'm no specialist. I know it irritates oenophiles and gourmands to say I know what I like, same as with art and the black velvet painting of Elvis and bull fighters. But I don't know anything about food or wine beyond red and white or bubbles."

"The wine cellar just collapsed."

"Oh no. My poor boss. I'll have to remember to apologize when I meet him." She lifted her plate for the waiter to fill her plate with things that looked good from tray he'd wheeled out containing a number of different chafing dishes. "Hmm. It all smells delicious." She smiled at the waiter. "Hi. I'm Carrie. I don't know who cooked this, but please tell them it looks almost to eat."