tagMatureThe Hairdresser (Lynette)

The Hairdresser (Lynette)


I've always hated going to the barbers. Maybe it dates back to some traumatic event in my childhood, like being dragged there screaming by my father, but truthfully, I just don't know. I just know that all through my school years I hated going to the barber.

I guess by the time I was in college I was old enough to get over that minor phobia, but I got through by snipping at my own hair, which was cheaper anyway, and having my sister cut my hair on holidays. When I moved town to start my first job, I happened on an ad in a grocery store for a hairdresser who worked out of her home. I liked that idea, called up for an appointment, and that was how I met Lynette.

So, for nearly four years no I've been visiting Lynette once every ten weeks or so, something that has never been a chore and it's a whole lot better than going to the barber.

The first time I arrived at her door her husband answered. He was a short, dorky man who seemed awkward and not very personable. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses his ferret-like eyes moved a lot and didn't meet mine, but he let me in to meet Lynette in their kitchen, where she worked on her customers. I liked the fact that there was no mirror in the kitchen and I didn't have to sit for twenty minutes and look at myself.

Lynette was almost a polar opposite of her husband, friendly, sincere, warm and very pretty. Lynette's features were stunning to my eye. She had beautiful, smooth skin, a wide mouth that smiled readily and a perfect small nose that joined with her gorgeous hazel eyes to form most of the expressions that I got to know over the years. Her hair was just longer than shoulder-length, a wonderful shiny light brown and framed her face with fringe that always tried to part in the middle. If there was a criticism to hurl at Lynette, it was that her clothes were always drab -- always good quality clothes, and she was impeccably dressed, but the colors she chose were always dark and seemed to hide away the bodily curves that she definitely had.

Lynette was at least fifteen years older than me but she was always someone I looked forward to spending some time with every few weeks. It was only a few minutes in reality, but it was always a good quality few minutes. I was always perplexed by why such a stunning woman would be with a dorky, almost strange guy, but as I grew in the world I realized that I'd seen stranger couples.

Sitting in Lynette's kitchen chair and having her walk around me and chop my hair was always a pleasure. We talked about any kind of news of the day, nothing too personal, and it was all so easy and comfortable. Her husband never came near us when I was in the kitchen and the most I ever saw of him was when he opened the door or when he called goodbye on my exit. That part of the visits never bothered me.

That particular evening I parked on the street in front of Lynette's house as usual but as I approached the door I noticed that her husband's pick-up truck was missing from the driveway. In four years of coming to see her, this was the first time the truck wasn't there.

The second unusual occurrence of the evening came when Lynette herself answered the door. "Hi Mike." She greeted me with a familiar smile. "Come on in."

As usual she led me straight through to the kitchen but even in those first few seconds I sensed a different air in the house, a different mood in Lynette. I sat down in the waiting kitchen chair and she threw a hairdresser's cape over me. The kitchen and what I could see of the rest of the house looked tidy and very much the same as I'd come to know, but there was a new aura and as we started to small talk while Lynette dampened down my hair, I was pretty sure everything I sensed was coming directly from her.

"How's work?" She asked. "Been promoted again lately?"

I laughed, trying not to move my head as she started to clip. "Not this month. Hopefully in a year or two." I'd been promoted to a Team Lead a couple of months earlier and shared the good news with her on my last visit.

I wanted to ask if there was anything wrong, but somehow didn't know quite how to approach the subject. I was customer and a fleeting friend and really didn't feel close enough to her to make such a personal enquiry. Lynette continued with her work, maybe a little quieter than normal, but not much. For the first time in all of my visits I did not notice how wonderful Lynette smelled, did not notice every time her thighs leaned against my arms or the curve of her breast brushed me as she moved around the chair and did her work.

When Lynette was finishing up I finally managed to pluck up the courage to ask her what was causing the tension in her that I sensed. "Is everything okay Lynette? You seem a little... distracted."

She came around in front of me and pulled the cape with her. She looked a little sad and seemed to search for words before she spoke. "Brian and I... broke up." She seemed relieved to get the words out. "Well, he left me. I guess that's what happened."

"What, today?"

Lynette handed me a mirror so I could check her work. I didn't take the slightest look.

"No, no, it was a couple of weeks ago. I've just not been able to talk about it much." She took the mirror back, either convinced I wasn't going to use it, or paying no attention to my movements. "It's been tough, I haven't been out for a week, but I'll get over it. I'm sorry, you don't need to know all of this."

"It's okay." I tried my best to be a sympathetic adult, a mode I was still developing back then. "I'm just sorry to hear about it. You always seemed so... comfortable together."

Lynette smiled a little at the thought. "Yes, comfortable. I guess I thought the same. Apparently not though, not for him at least."

"It's just a little unsettling." She started to tidy her combs, scissors and neck towels as she spoke. I didn't move from the chair. "I think it's not so much a surprise, when I think about it. It's just hard to deal with, hard to talk about, and I don't think I'm very good at talking with my friends about it yet. You shouldn't have to worry about that though. Your hair looks nice." She obviously tried to shake off the funk.

I knew, as I pulled some cash from my wallet, that I should probably just say "sorry" again and get out of there, but I really did want to help Lynette if I could. I didn't have enough experience of dealing with crappy situations like this, and didn't really know what to say. Fortunately I managed to find something reasonable to offer when I asked, "You know, I understand it's tough, but if you'd like to talk about it... I'm not family or friends. If you'd like to go get a coffee... we could talk a bit. And it would get you out for a while."

"Oh, don't worry about me." was her immediate reply. "I'll be fine. You don't want to waste your evening listening to my sob story."

"No, it's okay." I probably sounded earnest now, mostly because I actually felt like I was being true and did want to help her. "If you want to, we can talk. It will probably do you good; a change of scenery."

I could see her weighing the situation carefully as she used a brush to tidy up my hair on the tiled floor. Should she sit at home and cry all night, or go get a coffee and have a chat with a virtual stranger whose hair she knew a whole lot better than the rest of him? Well, that's what I thought she was thinking.

"Are you sure?" She looked up, broom still in hand and looking vulnerable and forlorn.

"I'm sure."

"Okay." Lynette's face brightened a little, she put the broom against the kitchen table and started to walk out of the kitchen quickly. Behind her she called out, "Just give me a minute to get ready to go out."

I drove us to a Starbucks near a local mall. Lynette had kept her black skirt on but changed into a white blouse and I thought it was the first time I'd seen her wear anything that wasn't black, grey, brown or dark green. She looked good, but I could see that she was nervous, probably not about being with me, but how she could open up about her husband leaving. I wasn't having a great time wondering how I could get her to open up, or if I wanted to deal with the conversation, and emotions, that might ensue.

The coffee shop was almost empty when we got there and while I got our drinks Lynette settled into a big easy chair with a small table next to it, leaving the adjacent chair for me. I watched from the counter as she fussed with a cushion and made herself comfortable, and wondered what the hell I was doing.

By the time I'd arrived with our coffee Lynette looked tense and unsure. She thanked me for the coffee and confirmed my suspicion when she said, "I'm not sure I can just sit here and discuss my marriage. I'm not sure why I came out." She didn't seem stressed, but definitely a little unsure.

"Don't worry." I reassured, growing in confidence in my new role as adult confidant. "We can just talk, relax. It'll do you good for a while."

Lynette nodded and sipped at her drink. She smiled over to me and said softly, "You're very kind. Thank you."

Prompted by a poster in the window, I started us off talking about the local high school football team who were having a great season. Lynette asked what sports I'd played and confessed that her sports experience was minimal but that she'd like to play tennis and maybe even golf. We went on to talk about local restaurants and at some point during that half-hour I saw the relaxed and warm Lynette come back into her body.

Inevitably, as it seemed at that age, our conversation turned to the subject of girlfriends. I laughed through the usual evasive answers that I gave and Lynette seemed to enjoy playfully probing at me and the slight discomfort I expressed on the subject. I'd had a few girlfriends at that stage in life, one or two had even been serious, but I was single at the time. When Lynette asked what I liked in a girl and I stumbled through a few drab answers I noticed that she'd drifted off and was staring at her coffee cup.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"No, no," Lynette shook herself back to the moment. "I was just thinking... don't worry."

"No, it's okay," I insisted, "You can tell me."

Lynette considered the situation for a few seconds before making a decision. "It's just, hearing what you want in a girl, fun, friendly, smart... all he wanted was a porn star."

I was startled by her statement but tried not to let it show. After a few seconds Lynette continued, "He watched a lot of porn, and wanted me to be like the girls he watched."

"Did that bother you?"

"Not the porn itself," she admitted, "that was... well, all men do, don't they? What got to me was that he wanted me to be like the women he watched. And that wasn't me. That was why he left in the end. I stopped doing what he wanted me to."

I couldn't resist the obvious question, "What kinds of things?"

Lynette seemed to catch herself, realizing that we were edging into the intimate details of her relationship. She considered this for a moment and then said, "You know, the usual things, like having me say... nasty things while he... and, he always wanted to... ejaculate on my face." She averted her eyes from mine as she struggled with the words. It was obvious that she wanted to get them out, but she was still not sure what she was doing telling them to me in a coffee shop.

"I'm sorry." It seemed like all I could say, especially as I was slightly compromised as having had facial fantasies of my own, even though I'd never done it and could plainly see it wasn't the most romantic act that sexual partners could perform.

Lynette shook her head, not at my sympathy, but her situation. "It's okay. You know, I'm not... well, those things are okay once in a while, but not all the time. Is this an uncomfortable conversation for you?" She looked hard into my face now. "I'm sorry, we should stop."

"It's fine." I instinctively reached across the table and placed my hand over hers. "I'm just glad you can get some of this out. I'm happy to talk about anything."

Lynette smiled. She pulled her hand away to push her hair to the side but it came back to rest on mine. "You're really are very kind. It's been hard not being able to explain why he left. Maybe this will make it easier to explain to other people." She gave a big sigh and sat back a bit in the chair. "He was such a pain when it came to things like that."

She went on to explain to me that in most other ways he had been a good husband, She wasn't sure about their decision, years ago, not to have a family, but other than his sexual preferences, he was a good man. She didn't give many details, but explained how he would watch porn, often while she was with customers and later demand that they basically act out the things he'd watched. I got the impression that occasionally this was painful for her and almost always unsatisfying. Hell, even I knew that sometimes women needed to make love the way they wanted! And there lay the bottom line in Lynette's marriage: he wanted sex, and she needed to make love occasionally.

There was nothing erotic about our conversation. I was too busy listening and working out how to respond to the things Lynette said, and she was busy exorcising thoughts and events that had haunted her for too long. It seemed somewhat surreal to be sitting with the lovely Lynette, listening to her relate the failings of her sex life, but it also made me feel closer to her than I'd ever imagined.

"I mean, not all men are like that, are they?"

I tried to be honest. "All men have fantasies, but I'm sure most men as a bit more sympathetic to their partners' wants and needs."

"That's what I thought." Lynette seemed to reach the summit of our conversation, verbally confirming at least some of her self-doubt had been vanquished. "Men!"

I smiled softly at her small transformation.

"Present company accepted." she laughed.

"You know," Lynette paused to down the last of her, now stone cold, coffee, "he even wanted me to find a woman so he could have a threesome." She shook her head. "He asked that all the time. Is that something you would ever ask a girl?"

I'm pretty sure I flushed a little with the directness of the question, and maybe knowing that it was another thing I'd fantasized about. However, I answered honestly. "I have a hard enough time worrying about pleasing one woman, never mind how I'd satisfy two."

Lynette watched my face intently as I answered, and then laughed out loud.

I offered her another coffee but she elected to go home. I thought that would be the end of an interesting evening but when I pulled up to Lynette's house she started to get out and nonchalantly commanded, "Come on in and have a glass of wine with me. It's the least I can do. You've wasted all of this time on my sob story."

I was about to say I didn't consider it wasted time, but she was gone, so I switched off the engine and followed her into the house.

"Sit down." She called from the kitchen. "White okay for you?"

I sat on the sofa and answered, "White's fine. Just a small one, I'm driving."

Lynette came in and handed me a moderately large glass of wine. She sat at the other side of the sofa and offered me her glass to clink. "Cheers."

I think I was the uncomfortable one now, thoughts of porn scenes that may have taken place in this very room, with the woman sitting next to me, were flitting though my brain. I looked at the gorgeous Lynette sipping at her wine and for the first time that night I found the situation arousing.

"Don't move." Lynette almost shouted as I lowered the glass from my lips. "Just stay completely still."

She got off the sofa and went back into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with her scissors. She came next to me and knelt on the sofa, pointing the scissors at my left ear. "I missed a bit." I heard a "clip" and relaxed as she withdrew the scissors. "There." She smiled, but didn't move away.

Our eyes met and locked for a few seconds. I felt an instantaneous rise in the tension in the room and just about had time to recognize it when Lynette brought her face closer to mine and kissed me.

It was a soft, non-committal kiss, wonderfully sensual in the way our lips pressed and moved slightly to explore each other's' interest in the moment. Lynette's hand came up to gently caress my cheek and I opened my lips for her, letting her tongue come inside and confirming our shared desire. I pushed into her mouth, tasting her and feeling the soft warmth of her tongue as it slowly moved around and explored.

In a night of surprises, somehow the words Lynette spoke when we broke the kiss and looked into each other's eyes at a distance of four inches did not surprise me. "I'd like to make love with you."

This was not a time for words. We'd talked a lot that evening and it was time for our senses to take over and find peace for Lynette, and who knew what for me. I kissed her again, confirming beyond a doubt where we were headed as she kissed back hungrily and sensually.

When we broke again Lynette reached behind and switched off one of the two table lamps that lit the room. A softer light folded around us as she straddled me, sat in my lap and kissed me again.

I wrapped my arms around Lynette's back and pulled her into me as we locked mouths and I felt her hands start to stroke the sides of my face. She felt warm beneath her blouse and for one moment I reflected that being here with Lynette was something I'd thought about many times but dared not even hope for. She pulled her face away but continued to rest her hands on the sides of my face while she looked at me. She smiled the softest, warmest smile I'd ever seen.

"You don't mind that I'm an older woman, do you?"

"You look wonderful." was all I could manage, and apparently all I needed to say.

Lynette continued to sit in my lap as she unbuttoned her blouse, slowly, and watched my face as she did. When the last button was loose she pulled the shirt off her arms and let it fall to the floor, revealing her plain white bra and the gorgeous promise of her breasts being held in there. "Do you want to take it off?" she offered.

I reached behind her and thankfully managed to unclip the bra without major difficulty or delay. It fell loose on her shoulders and I waited for a few seconds, savoring the moment, before I pulled the straps off her shoulders and revealed her breasts. Lynette may have been worried about her age, but her breasts didn't droop at all, they just sat there, displaying her lovely dark nipples that were well defined even in the soft light and looked like they were already excited. I carefully brought up my hand to feel the weight of her breast and then to feel the nipple as I brushed my fingers across it. Her eyes closed as my soft touch set off pleasure sensors all over her body.

Lynette's hands came up to my shoulders and I used both of my hands to explore her breast, the exposed skin down to her waist.

"You look beautiful." I cooed again as I looked at her and watched the movements of my hands and how her skin reacted to my touch.

"You make me feel it." Lynette breathed. She let her hands fall and start to unbutton my shirt and my hands fell lower, now feeling around the waistband of her skirt. I leaned up from the sofa and kissed her nipples gently - first one and then the other, licking at her and biting gently. This stopped her unbuttoning my shirt and I felt Lynette's breathing deepen.

She reached behind her and undid the zipper on her skirt. I felt the waistband of the skirt loosen and I pushed my fingers down the front. I felt Lynette's panties and as I slid further down I felt her softness, the distinct outline of her pussy lips and the heat she was generating.

Slowly, Lynette's head arched back and she closed her eyes with pleasure as my fingers covered her pussy from the outside of her panties. "God, that feels so good." she panted as I pushed a little harder and a little deeper down between her legs.

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