The Touch Ch. 30

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"I'll take them upstairs to the kitchen .... Sit in the chair and I will be back in just a minute."

Sharon returned, threw a nylon cape around my neck, and then stood immediately behind me and put her hands on my cheeks turning my face so that we could both see the sides and front of my hair in the mirror over the big basin. Her generous breasts were pressed firmly into my neck cushioning the back of my head in her cleavage; I guessed she wouldn't normally do that for her lady clients. Our eyes met in the mirror and we both smiled. My bout of the miseries was already starting to evaporate fast.

"I think you should wear your hair a little bit shorter," She said very professionally, "it is naturally wavy and quite thick... and I think we will give it a more modern shape at the back, who has been cutting it for you...the butcher?" She ran the fingers of one hand, claw-like, gently across the top of my head making my scalp and bollocks tingle, "I will leave just enough on top that the girls will be able to get their fingers into it!" She laughed.

"That sounds great." Right then she could have done anything she liked to my hair, I didn't give a rat's arse; she was really turning me on. I had always thought the old Sharon 'The Bike', that I had periodically shared a shag with in the woods behind the golf course was sexy, but this new confident, self assured, Sharon was more than that... she was alluring and sensual.

"OK, let's get you washed first," she said and swivelled the chair, reclining the back so that my head hung over the wash basin and I was staring up at the ceiling. "Close your eyes unless you want to get soap in them."

I closed my eyes obediently and felt the warm water from her spray play over my hair and scalp and then there was the coolness of the shampoo gel, followed by her fingers massaging my hair and head, gently probing through my wet hair the tips of her fingers caressing my scalp, her finger nails sexily scratching very, very lightly. It was relaxing and erotic and seemed to go on forever, much longer than I would have expected for a normal hair wash. This was the first time that my hair had been washed by a woman since my mother had bathed me as a child and I decided that I liked the experience. I remember feeling amazed that a simple hair wash had given me an instant hard-on.

The warm spray ceased and I felt her strong hands pressing the surplus water out of my hair and then her breast was pressed against my shoulder as she leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. I thought she probably didn't do that for her lady customers either.

"All done. You can open them now." The chair back was returned to the upright position and she turned me to face the mirror again. Her reflection was smiling happily at mine. "We'll get you cut and dried and then we can eat, OK?"

I don't remember much of the cutting, just the feathery touch of her fingers and the occasional brush of her breasts again my shoulders as she moved around me, snipping and combing at the sides, back and top, until finally she seemed satisfied with her art and gave it a few passes with a hair-dryer. She produced a hand mirror so that I could see the back and sides and I had to admit that it looked good, better than any hair cut I had ever had from old Mr. Beasley at the City Barber Shop, and he didn't have her sparkling green eyes or soft tits.

That was the most erotic haircut of my life. My hair looked good, my scalp still tingled from her touch and she had given me an erection. I decided there and then that nobody but Sharon would ever cut my hair again in the future, and I was certain that I would now need a trim at least every couple of weeks if not more.

"Come on," she said beckoning me to follow her across the shop, "I'm starving and I am dying to show you my new flat." She locked the door to the shop and threw a switch cutting of the salon power then led me to a staircase at the rear which climbed to the flat that she rented above the shop.

I really don't know what I had expected Sharon's home to be like but I was quite surprised. The front door at the top of the stairs, led straight into the main living room, and she stood in the centre and spread her arms.

"What do you think of my little pad?" she asked, pirouetting to encompass the whole of the room.

The room was quite large with two modern double glazed windows looking out onto the street below, there were expensive looking fabric vertical blinds in a cream colour and the windows were flanked by long black curtains. The whole room was very modern and tastefully decorated throughout in black and cream. The walls had been emulsioned a plain magnolia which was broken only by a single black and white photograph in a black bead frame hanging on each of the three inner walls; they were very good enlarged reproductions of old cinema lobby stills, and I recognised pictures from Casablanca, Top Hat and Brief Encounter. The floor was the original deal floor boards which had obviously been professionally sanded and then stained nearly black and polished and there was a single black and white diamond pattern rug filling the centre of the room. The doors were painted cream and the frames and skirting boards were black.

There was a large comfortable looking white leather sofa and the rest of the furniture was very modern, angular black ash, a long bookcase under the windows, a small round dining table and two chairs and a side unit with draws and cupboards and a stereo record and cassette player. It was good quality pre-packed furniture, not terribly expensive but it looked very smart and classy.

"Wow! This is really fantastic," I enthused, and meant it. Her face lit up with a big proud smile, I thought she really looked happy these days.

"I'll lay the table and you can get busy with whatever you intend to do in the kitchen...it's through there..." she pointed to an open door, "If you need to pee the bathroom is at the top of the stairs to the left..." she indicated a narrow staircase in the corner of the room.

I went into the kitchen and started to unpack the bags. "Can I scrounge some bits from your fridge?" I called to her.

She poked her head around the door. "Of course, use what ever you like.... Sorry about the mess in here.." she added, "I only had enough money saved to do the sitting room and bedroom, so the kitchen and bathroom are still much as they were when I moved in."

The kitchen really wasn't that bad. The units and the cooker were a bit old and worn but the fridge freezer was new as was the washing machine and the whole kitchen was spotlessly clean and the walls and ceiling had been given a recent coat of white emulsion.

I put the little Anya potatoes in a saucepan to boil and simmer, then seared off the lamb steaks in a pan, whilst I scraped and then thinly sliced the sweet potatoes and some red onion into a roasting dish with a couple of spoonfuls of olive oil and put them into the oven. Once the lamb was sealed nicely on both sides I glazed the steaks with some of the redcurrant jelly and then added them to the dish, sprinkled on the rosemary and some freshly ground black pepper.

I quickly made one of my 'cheat' desserts; chopped strawberries from the farm shop in an instant packet mousse made with cream instead of milk and put them in the fridge to cool.

It was a simple and tasty supper which would be on the table in about twenty minutes. I uncorked one of the bottles of wine and went back into the living room.

Sharon had obviously gone upstairs but had laid the table with a dainty white embroidered table cloth and two place settings of white china and plain glass goblets. I poured two of glasses of the Chianti and took one and explored the room, curious about her choice of music and reading. I had known Sharon for years, I knew something of her sad life history, we had often had a drink together at the King's Head pub and if I was feeling randy and she was lonely we would then go somewhere for a quick 'knee trembler' shag, I genuinely liked her, but we had never really talked and a I didn't know much about her personal likes and dislikes and she was several years older than me.

Most of her books were coffee table illustrated volumes about classic films and film stars, at least that was one interest we shared, and there were a few show biz biographies and romantic novels, but she had two complete shelves of fashion or professional hair and beauty magazines, all pristine and obviously prized. Her records and cassettes were mostly 70's and 80's pop and rock, Rod Stewart, Queen, Spandau Ballet, Sting and the like, with a smattering of soul and easy listening.

I was drawn to a couple of small framed photographs on the small occasional table at one end of the sofa. One was of a younger Sharon with a middle aged grey haired man in a suit and the other was more recent and made my mouth drop open with surprise.... It was a photograph of me. More exactly it was one of the photographs that had appeared in the press following the re-launch of the garden centre and had originally been a group with Maggie, myself and Jack. Sharon had obviously ordered an enlargement from the press office and had trimmed the photograph so that it became a portrait of me.

"I meant to hide that.... You weren't supposed to see it." I hadn't heard Sharon return until she was right behind me. I felt her arms slip around my waist and her breasts were pressed tightly against my back, warm and soft through my shirt as she laid her cheek against my shoulder. It was too late to pretend that I hadn't noticed the picture but decided not to ask about it.

"Who is the guy in the other photo?" I asked, mainly to deflect any embarrassment she might be feeling.

Sharon hugged me a little bit tighter. "That is my lovely, lovely Roy," she disclosed a little sadly. "We were together for nearly two years.... I was eighteen... he was forty, and married of course... but we had lot of good times... and then he died... a heart attack, very sudden." I felt rather than heard her take a deep breath, "Do I get a glass of that?" She asked, suddenly her usual chirpy self again.

She released me and I turned to face her. She had changed out of the jeans and t-shirt that she had been working in and put on a dress, it was the first time that I had ever seen Sharon in a proper dress. It was really modern with a black layered bodice and very thin shoulder strings and a tulip shaped skirt of red with bold black spots, like a ladybird; she looked cute and very sexy. She had touched up her make-up and brushed her long flowing hair and with her bright green eyes sparkling I thought that she was looking really classy and attractive these days. In the old days Sharon had always been a bleached blonde and worn her hair almost down to her waist; she had now let it grow out and her real light brown hair was shorter and streaked golden blonde, it looked great.

"Oh God, Sharon... you look terrific..."

She didn't say anything just stepped forward and reached up to put her arms around my neck and pull my mouth down to hers, our lips meeting in a soft rolling kiss, the tips of our tongues just lightly touching. I was very aware of her fulsome breasts pressed against me and instinctively reached up to cup them lightly through the fabric of her dress, she didn't object. She was already making me horny again and I could feel the stirrings of an erection. I knew that I had every intention of shagging with Sharon if she wanted to, but I could smell those lamb steaks were about ready to eat and the wine and sexual arousal was making me hungry.

"Supper should be ready in a few minutes," I said breaking gently away to hand her a glass of the wine.

The meal went really well, Sharon enjoyed the food and seemed to be very impressed with my cooking.

"That was the first time that a man has ever cooked dinner for me, or any meal at all actually," she said smiling, "it was so much nicer than a bag of fritters from the chippy...." That was the only reference that either of us made to the way that Sharon's life had been in the past, and the casual liaisons with younger boys, of which I had been one.

We shared the chore of washing up, Sharon was for leaving it until the morning but I insisted on getting it done, and then we took the remains of the second bottle of Chianti through to the sitting room and she dimmed the lights and put on a soft background music record, James Last I think. I sat on the sofa and Sharon curled up on the floor her cheek resting on my knee and we chatted about nothing of any importance, mutual acquaintances, old films, favourite actors, and drank and smoked, for an hour or so until the wine ran out and it was dark outside.

Suddenly she seemed to be very unsure of herself and twisted round to look up into my face. "Will you stay with me tonight if I ask you to...." She whispered, her face held a slightly wistful look and her eyes were pleading, "It has been such a wonderful evening and I don't want it to end, or to be alone tonight."

"I'd really like that," I said gently.

She stood up and took my hand and led me across the room to the staircase and then up to the next floor. There were three doors leading off the corridor, the nearest was ajar and was obviously a further flight of stairs to the top floor. "That is the bedroom," she said, indicating a door on which was mounted a large red and white, metal NO ENTRY road sign, the pedestrian version showing the figure of a man blocked by a crossed circle. "It's a sort of personal joke reminding me that I don't do that anymore," she chuckled.

"Do I need an entry permit?" I teased gently.

She ran the finger tips of one hand lightly down the front of my shirt in a sort of affectionate caress. "No," she smiled, "You get a season ticket..... come on, I'll give you the free tour of my secret hideaway." She took my hand and led me through the door.

Her bedroom was the exact opposite to the living room, it was pretty, feminine and fussy, in pale pink and white, dominated by a double bed with a white enamelled old fashioned wrought iron bed-head and a thick soft duvet and pillows, pink with frills and delicately embroidered flowers matching the curtains at the window. The duvet was turned back and the bed looked soft and inviting.

One wall was completely taken up with a run of floor to ceiling wardrobes with sliding doors which had obviously been fitted years ago, but recently repainted satin white and decorated with good quality decals of pink and white roses which exactly matched the bed cover and curtains, I guessed from the style they were all from Laura Ashley. The floor was covered with a plain pale pink fitted carpet and the only other furniture was a white, kidney shaped dressing table with mirror, a stool with a pink velvet seat and a small pink and white fabric tub chair occupied by a large pale blue rabbit stuffed toy. Unlike most girl's rooms that I had been in it was almost completely void of clutter and very neat and tidy.

Sharon turned and looped her arms around my neck and hauled herself close up to me and presented her lips for a kiss. Our lips met and the kiss was firm and long and a bit tentative at the beginning but after a few moments she seemed to relax and her tongue started to respond to mine and pushed into my mouth, flicking and darting over my tongue and teeth.

Although we had had sex together several times over the years it had always been a quick shag, outside somewhere, standing up, without any real fore play or kissing, except for that last time back in September when she had gone off like a rocket and now the feel of her tongue in my mouth and the memory of that wild, energetic shag was enough to cause my prick to stiffen in my chinos and I ground my hardness against her soft belly, clutching her rounded buttocks and pulling her tight against me.

Our mouths broke apart, both panting lightly, although I continued to press her body to me, very aware of her chest heaving and rubbing those fantastic tits against me. She kicked off her shoes and I suddenly realised how tiny she was, probably less than five feet tall in her bare feet, my chin rested comfortably on the top of her head as she nuzzled into my shoulder.

"Please Jamie, be patient with me," she whispered. "I haven't done this with anybody since... well, not since that last time that we...... and I have never brought a man into my flat before." Her breath was warm on my throat and her long blonde tinted hair had a pleasant perfume, something slightly floral but exotic, lotus blossom maybe. "I haven't made love to a man.... Not properly .... Not really making love like we both meant it... Not since Roy," she added, "But I want to with you."

I didn't reply, I just hooked my finger beneath her chin and raised her lips to mine again and we kissed gently and tenderly for a few moments. I held her like that, standing at the side of her bed for a little bit longer and then brought my hands up, running them gently over her waist to rest lightly cupping her breasts.

"I really do want to make love to you, Sharon," I breathed against her ear, "Not just sex... more than that..."

My fingers fumbled briefly behind her until I found the zipper at the back of her dress and slowly drew it down, then thumbed the narrow strings from her shoulders and eased the top of the dress down to her waist. Her hands joined mine to push the waistband over her hips until the dress dropped to the floor and she could step out of it, and stood before me in a black embroidered low cut bra and matching bikini panties.

She looked good, really sexy and desirable, her breasts were generous but her waist was narrow above wide hips and slim shapely legs, I remember that I noticed her feet were very small, her toes tiny.

Her hands moved to my waist as I tugged my shirt over my head and she flipped the waist button of my chinos and slowly pulled down the fly zip, whilst her lips fluttered across my chest leaving a trail of little moist kisses. I helped her to push the waistband over my hips and shrugged and kicked my way out of my trousers and shorts, and leaned back to pull off my socks. My erection was swinging hard and ready between us the tip bumping across her belly. There was no shyness, there was too much history between us for that.

Our lips met again in a slow hard, lip mashing kiss, and I felt her reach around to unfasten her bra and pull it from between us so that the pliant softness of her breasts pressed against me and I could feel the warmth of her small nipples as they lay against my ribs, and lowered my head to kiss those smooth heavy globes and gently lick at the small hard nipples.

I pushed my finger tips into the elastic waistband of her knickers, pulling it away from her body and unhurriedly sliding them down her thighs and calves until she could step out of them, all the time tracing a thin damp line from her breasts to her navel with the tip of my tongue and then up again. My hand found and covered her pussy, my fingers exploring the dark, furry, softness of her bush, her slit felt warm and wet and open and my finger had no problem locating her clit.

Sharon gave a small moan deep in her throat as my finger pressed and rolled around her small firm butterball and her hips jerked, causing my erection to slam against her belly leaving a small bead of pre-cum smeared close to her navel. The tip was only inches from her pussy and almost instinctively I grasped her buttocks and raised her up onto her toes until it touched her clit.

Her hand came down to rest lightly on my prick, not pushing it away just holding it still. "Please Jamie.... Not like this," she whispered urgently, "please take me to bed... I want you to make love to me properly... please!"

I suppose that standing there was a little bit like those 'knee tremblers' in the woods that she wanted to put behind her. A half step brought the back of my knees into contact with the edge of the bed and I sat down, drawing her after me until we were lying full length, Sharon on her back and my leg crooked over hers my erection throbbing against her thigh. I raised myself onto one elbow and gave her a soft lingering kiss on the lips and then trailed my finger tips down her body, pausing to gently knead one nipple and then massaging lightly over her ribs and belly finally letting my hand rest over her pussy without penetrating.