Chapter Two: Pat Gets Her Licks In
Curlers laid on the floor, mewing plaintively, feline eyes gazing at Pat begging (if that was possible for a cat) her not to leave him.
For a moment Pat stared down at him, before--with an exasperated sigh--she bent down and picked him up.
"You know you're not supposed to come with me to the salon," Pat scolded her pet, but the only reply she received was more mournful meowing. "Well, alright, the salon is closed today anyway, so I guess you can come with...but just this once, buster," she admonished, wagging a finger for emphasis.
As she left her apartment, Curlers purred contentedly in Pat's arms. Taking the elevator to the parking garage, Pat loaded herself and her furry companion into her sedan. The vehicle was on loan from her cousin, who had deemed it dangerous for Pat to be tooling around New York City in a normal car. Of course, as the Man of Bronze had commented after experiencing her driving for the first time, it was dangerous for Pat to drive, period. To say she had an aggressive style would be an understatement, though her superb reflexes had--to this point--managed to prevent her from having any accidents.
Today was no exception. With the weather warm and sunny, Pat reached the modernistic building on Park Avenue which housed her beauty establishment in only a few minutes and, pulling around back, parked the blue sedan at the mouth of the tunnel behind the building. She fumbled at the rear entrance for a moment for the proper key then, finding it, opened the door and stepped inside. Behind her, the door clicked shut. Turning on the lights, Pat bent down to release her now struggling burden.
"There you go, you pesky cat," she laughed. "Explore all you like, but stay out of trouble!" As she wandered further into her salon, she mused to herself, "Stay out of trouble? Jeesh--I'd better watch it or I'll be sounding like Doc!" Curlers followed her with his eyes as she walked away, meowed once, and wandered off to investigate things.
The Park Avenue Beautician--for that was the name of the lovely lady Savage's salon--was nearly as impressive looking as its owner. Chromium, enamel and plush, colored rugs created an air of modern opulence which Pat tried hard to cultivate. Normally, the place would be bustling in the morning, with stately, striking attendants taking care of all her fashionable clientele's beauty needs. In keeping with the atmosphere she was trying to create, Pat's female employees were invariably stunning in appearance. Pat did have some male clients, but as she had once told Doc, "I don't know whether they come to have their looks improved, or to flirt with my snappy assistants." However, the beauty of those assistants was overshadowed by the radiance of their boss.
Today, however, the place was deserted. Pat was expanding the gymnasium which occupied the second story of her establishment, and Pat had closed the salon for a week until the work was completed, deeming it too noisy for her hoity toity customers. However, the workmen had not yet arrived this morning; out getting some supplies, Pat didn't expect them to show up for a couple more hours.
Pat ambled through the main room of the salon to her private office, where she figured on putting in some time going through the books. Pat charged through the roof and, even better, got most of her money upfront, as her customers purchased exclusive memberships to the Park Avenue Beautician. Though she had a team of crack accountants, she liked to look through the figures herself once in a while, though she rarely had the opportunity when the place was jumping. This would be a good chance for her to catch up.
Slipping her high-heeled shoes off her stocking feet, Pat swivelled in her chair and, putting her shapely feet up on the credenza behind her desk, began flipping through files. Though her demeanor might have seemed casual to an onlooker, her sharp eyes and keen mind were focused intently on her work, totally absorbed in her task in the empty salon.
When the hand touched her shoulder, Pat nearly hit the roof.
Exclaiming loudly, Pat shot out of the chair as if propelled and whipped around. The sight that met her golden eyes was a petite young woman, convulsed in laughter.
"Gee, I'm so sorry Pat," the newcomer managed to choke out between her hysterics. "But if you could only see the way you jumped..." Another burst of mirth prevented her from continuing, as she clutched her sides.
"Yea, very funny," shot Pat, though the corners of her delectable mouth had begun to turn upwards in a smile. "Honestly Melissa--you nearly startled me back to Canada!"
The young woman Pat had addressed as Melissa wiped the tears from her eyes, fought to regain her breath. She was a diminutive vision, scarcely topping five feet, with long, lustrous black hair which fell nearly to her slim waist. Her matching eyes glistened with her tears. She was attired in a blue blouse and skirt outfit which showed off her svelte figure to tremendous advantage, revealing her shapely calves and accentuating her small but perky bosom.
"I'm so sorry, you just seemed so intent, I couldn't resist."
"I'll show you sorry, you little minx," Pat retorted. "You owe me big time for that, and I'll pay you back, just wait!"
Feigning fright at the mock severity of Pat's tone, Melissa put a tiny hand to her mouth. "Oh please, Miss Savage, don't be too hard on me! I'll make it worth your while to forgive me, honest I will!"
And so saying, she stepped forward. One of her slender arms snaked around Pat's waist, while the other reached up around Pat's neck.
"Very much worth your while," Melissa muttered, as she turned her bright face up and pulled Pat's unresisting head down. Her ruby lips met Pat's in a kiss that went on for some time, slowly growing in passion. The pink tip of Melissa's tongue poked out, seeking entrance to Pat's mouth. The bronzed Venus willingly parted her lips, welcoming the intruder, as her own tongue crept forth to meet and play with the newcomer.
One of Pat's "snappy assistants", Melissa Stone had developed a crush on the female Savage from the moment she'd first laid eyes on her. Determined to seduce her, she still wasn't sure if she hadn't been seduced herself, so quickly had their relationship moved beyond that of employer-employee or mere friendship. Though Pat hadn't yet told Monk about Melissa, she thought that he probably suspected something of the truth, based on comments he had made on more than one occasion about her "perfume" when she would return from the salon fresh from eating her young lover's delicious quim.
Breaking the lingering kiss, one of Pat's hands lazily stroked Melissa's soft cheek, while the two gorgeous women caressed each other's backs.
"Not that I'm complaining, love, but what are you doing here?" Pat asked.
One of Melissa's hands moved around to Pat's front, where it decided that Pat's blouse being buttoned was a condition that was totally unacceptable which must be remedied. As her hand began its self-appointed task, Melissa replied, "Since things were closed down today and there wasn't going to be any noise from the work crew for awhile, I thought I'd take inventory."
"I can see that you're taking inventory," Pat responded dryly, looking down at her blouse, which by this point had been entirely unbuttoned and pushed open, revealing her twin bronzed globes, temptingly encased in a lacy white brassiere.
"Yes," murmured Melissa, as her hands slid along Pat's back to the clasp of her bra, unhooking it, before softly moving forward again and pushing the white lace over the top of Pat's breasts, cupping them in her tiny hands and gently kneading them. "And I'm happy to report, boss, that everything appears to be present and accounted for."