My Career

The following story is an original work of fiction. All characters described in this story are over the age of 18. If any of these characters resemble historical people, it is a coincidence. All rights are reserved.

This is my first attempt at writing erotic fiction. I will appreciate constructive advice and comments you may have. There is no reason to be gentle; I am a big boy and can take it. As a word of caution, I am a retired scientist and do not write in the flowery style of many stories you read here. You will not see descriptions like "her tunnel full of sweet nectar-like honey, one-eyed snakes" etc. I have news for you-her pussy will never taste like sweet honey and guys' cocks don't have fangs. Although, come to think of it, honey dripped on a beautiful woman's pussy would be nice to taste. I think have a good story for you. I hope you enjoy it.

The editor for this story was XTipsyX. Her spelling and grammar expertise was a critical help along the way. She also provided suggestions on scene descriptions and I always used them. Any errors remaining in this story are mine alone and probably occurred after her last edit.

My Career -- A Barber's Adventures in Shaving Women's Genitals

Chapter 1

My name is Mark. Now that I am 77, the decision to retire is a bit easier than it would have been over the past years. My eyesight and steadiness of hands are slipping away. Only now can I feel comfortable relating the story of my career and how it evolved.

My last clients have moved on to another person I trained. Hopefully, all my former clients will appreciate and also forgive my relating this short account of a very long, interesting life and the parts they played in it. All names are from my imagination. Only if you remember the event as I describe it, would you know your part in my narrative. Please forgive me if you recognize yourself and remember the event with less enthusiasm than I convey. As I promised, your privacy is critically important to me and I will never compromise it.

I am a barber. Or maybe I should say now that I was a barber. Like many guys who returned from war, I had to learn new skills. There was not much opportunity for a sniper in Los Angeles in the 1950's.

My older brother David owned a one-man barbershop not very far from Hollywood. He was an excellent barber and built a solid business. No matter if you were a normal man off the street or a major studio star, he gave everyone a great haircut. Today it would be called a "styling" I suppose, except the styles were much shorter then.

For many men in those days, a close shave was as important as a cut. The combination of oils, heat, shaving foam, facial massage and the sharpness of a straight razor in skilled hands resulted in a shave that lasted far longer than anything they could do at home.

David was proud of my military service (and me) and enjoyed relating the war stories I lived to his many customers. These stories grew both in scope and drama over the years, of course.

1958

"Hey David, how's it going?" I said when entering his shop.

"Hey little brother. Going good, I suppose." He only glanced my way for a second before returning to his job.

There were three men sitting along the wall to the left, absorbed in conversation, waiting their turn in the chair. "Mark! We have been hearing about you and all the great shots you made in Korea," one of them shouted.

"Believe me, with David's help the shots are improving every day," I responded. Laughter filled the shop. "He has a way of making every story better."

"We know, we know, but the old boy gives a great cut and shave. We have to talk about something every week while we wait. We are well practiced in stories. Have you found a job yet?"

"Not yet, still working hard to find one but there are lots of guys looking."

David said, "Mark, I have been thinking about bringing on a trainee to help out around here. You ever think about being a barber?"

I heard a snicker from somewhere along the left wall but was not sure who was honest enough for that sort of reaction.

"What are you saying, David? You want me to be a barber in your shop? You have never indicated any willingness to take on an employee."

"Yeah, I know. But the business is growing and I have three to five guys waiting all the time. I just don't like to hold these guys up like that."

From the left wall again: "David, you expect Mark to go from killing guys in war to using sharp instruments on them here? Uh, I don't know about that."

"Exactly, Steve. Do you realize the nerves, steady hand and patience this guy has? That is exactly what a great barber needs. Besides, you guys know as well as I do that I need to get off my feet and sit down occasionally. With several of you sitting here all the time watching me, I cannot stop at all during the day. So I have been thinking for a long time about training someone. Believe me, it would be the best for all of us."

I replied, "OK David. When do we begin? At least I can help you and make a little money. I would like to find a nice lady sometime and will need a steady job to support her." There was another snicker or two from the left.

I did not realize the impact of this decision on my life for many years.

1961

David died. On the way to work, a speeding car whose driver had completely ignored the four-way stop sign broadsided his car. Killed instantly, according to the doctor, so at least he did not suffer. But we did.

Many of his customers and their wives came to the funeral. They all stopped to visit with David's wife Wendy and their two children. Many of them also came to our house-- visiting, telling funny stories from his shop and how much they appreciated David. They all asked what we needed or how they could help. Their big hugs and quiet words of encouragement meant the world to us. Tragic deaths like this were all too common before seat belts so we had a lot of practice in consoling families.

I re-opened the shop for business the following week and several guys came by each day. Even though I was not as good at cutting hair as David, most of them came anyway. My ability to give a very close shave was what really saved me, and eventually my career as a barber.

However, the Gillette introduction of adjustable razors in the late 1950's was the beginning of the end to barbershop shaves -- at least the kind men needed. So it was only a matter of time before my skills at cutting hair (not so good) combined with the lower demand for close shaves. The business that David started slowly died as more and more men found better barbers and no longer needed shaves from me.

Late one afternoon, as I was thinking about closing the shop early, a lady walked in with a gentleman. Ladies rarely came to this shop unless they were trying to raise money for some cause and wanted my contribution. This lady did not look like she wanted to raise money.

She had raven hair, styled into a bouffant with flicked up ends that just touched her shoulder. She was tall, 5'8" or so and was beautiful. Her makeup looked like it was done in one of the studios and she carried herself with confidence. I thought to myself that she had that Jackie Kennedy type of style. As she walked toward me, the rapid click of her high heels on the tile floor indicated that she was on a mission.

"Are you Mark?"

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"My name is Shelley." She offered me her hand. It was delicate, soft and strong all at the same time. This was an unusual lady -- no wimp for sure.

"I would like to have a private conversation with you." She looked straight into my eyes. She had my full attention. What could a lady of her obvious sophistication need to discuss with me?

Shelley did not introduce the man, which I thought was a little odd. Since he did not approach or offer his hand, I gradually realized that he was her bodyguard, not a husband or friend. Now I was really intrigued. I had seen bodyguards with major screen stars and occasionally with some of David's very wealthy customers. They were always in the background and hardly ever came into this shop.

She turned toward him. "Jim, please wait outside for me. It will be just a few minutes," she said. She then turned to me as he left. Her hazel eyes were captivating.

"Mark, I have something very personal and somewhat embarrassing that I want to ask you."

"Yes?"

"My friend has been here several times and the shaves you give him are the very best I have seen. His beard does not grow back for a couple of days and I cannot feel any stubble, which is amazing. Would you consider shaving me?"

I stared at her, totally befuddled.

"What? Shave your face?"

"No. My genital area."

That almost knocked the breath out of me. I never saw that one coming. It is not every day you hear a lady (especially like her) talking about shaving her genital area, at least not in the 1960's. That was a subject men occasionally bragged about after seeing the then rare porn film that featured bare pussy shots. I never heard anyone talk about wives or girl friends that shaved their pussies. Maybe that was happening but no one talked about it. I had never seen a bare one on a grown woman.

"Shelley, I have no experience with that. Sure, I shave guys' faces every day but for areas like you mention, I always thought you used hot wax or some other method of controlling hair growth."

"I know, Mark, but that is very painful and I thought that the shave like you do would be much better for short term purposes. I realize that I am asking you for a personal favor that goes far beyond normal. I understand completely if you do not want to do it. However, I cannot do it myself as well as you could and I really don't trust anyone else to do it. But I would like to surprise my boy friend on his 30th birthday next week."

I hesitated for what seemed like a minute but was probably only a few seconds.

"Shelley, I am going take a chance. I am willing to try if you are sure about this." What I really thought was that I needed the work. It had really been slow in the shop. But I also wanted to see this woman's pussy. It was probably one of the easiest decisions I ever made.

She responded, "Let's try it one time and see. From what my friend says, you are an expert with a razor. I need you to promise that you will not tell anyone that I was here. As you know, word gets around this town overnight if you ever betray my trust."

"Yes, I know, and you can trust me completely. When would you like to do this? More importantly, where would you like me to do it? Your home or somewhere else?"

"His birthday party is Friday night. Lots of people are coming and the decorators will be working at the house next week. So I would like to come here on Thursday night about 8pm."

"Here?" I asked.

"Yes, maybe you can set up a table or something behind a privacy curtain."

I glanced around the shop and immediately started problem solving on how I would do that.

"Of course, let me put some thought to this and I will be ready for you."

I watched as she departed. She looked as marvelous from the back as from the front. Shelley was one knockout lady, even in a town full of them.

A hundred thoughts at a time raced through my brain. What did I just agree to? Where do I learn how to do this? I don't know any man that has ever tried to shave a woman's pussy. Now, I have seen several pussies; who hasn't? But how do you go about shaving one? What happens if I nick her? Does her bodyguard kick my ass? Can I use my regular face oil on her sensitive areas? What about the foam and creams I always massage into a guy's face? How can I apply them to a pussy without massaging it in? Will she slap the shit out of me when I even try? Oh man, this is not going to end up well.

For the next few days, my brain worked overtime. Although I had a number of the normal customers in, my mind was on the task coming up. Obviously, I needed to have a table she can lie on, and a strong light source so I can see all the details of her skin. Any little bump or blemish could end up as a cut.

With men, I push up or down on their cheeks, jaws or their chin to stretch and smooth out the skin for the razor. That is the only way I know to avoid nicks and allow maximum closeness. With a woman's pussy, what do I hold? How will my straight razor fit around the folds and crevices? How do I shave those little hairs between the outer and inner labia? This was too much to think about, especially since I suffered from hard-ons every time I thought about the details. Why did I ever agree to this?

Thursday evening came quickly. Shelley was fifteen minutes late but I expected that.

"Hi Mark, sorry I am late. I really appreciate you staying a couple of hours past your closing to help me."

"Hi Shelley, no problem. I have been giving a lot of thought to this and I think I am ready when you are. Could I suggest that you slip off your dress and put on this gown? I will lock the front door unless your associate would like to wait inside."

"You can lock it. He is waiting in the car and knows it may take a while. He is just a hired guard to make sure nothing happens to me. I am not worried about you since I came to you based on your reputation."

"Good, just step into the restroom if you would like to change. I am just about ready to go."

"Mark, you are about to shave the most private parts of my body. Why should I bother to change in another room?" Her smile was captivating and I felt like a fool. Somehow, that logic had completely escaped my mind.

"Of course, you are right. I'm sorry."

She unzipped the dress, unhooked the fastener behind her neck and slipped out of it in just a few seconds. I think that once she committed to this, her mind slipped into a professional mode much like it would if she were going to a gynecologist. Since I am not one of those guys, this was a major event for me. She hung the dress on a hanger I provided and I took it over to the coat rack.

I was expecting to see nylons and a garter belt but she was only wearing panties. Her legs really were as tan as they looked. Wow, she had an amazing body.

Her bra was beautiful, with lace, and it covered and supported very full breasts. I am not an expert on breast size but they would certainly be more than a handful. Her cleavage was what men dream about.

Shelley's lacy panties also matched the bra. She slipped them off with little fanfare and put them in her purse. Double wow! Her body showed no obvious fat but she was certainly not skinny. She had to be in her early to mid-30's but time had been very good to her. Everything was firm and fit. My cock was starting to react so I hurriedly asked her to climb onto the table and lie flat on her back. I did not want her to see my unprofessional cock, which had its own mind.

I had purchased a very soft pad and white sheets to make the table as comfortable as I could. But I did not want to use any sort of stirrup to support her legs as that is always very uncomfortable to a woman, or so I had heard and read. The plan was that she would open her legs to give me access as needed on each side. If she became concerned, her legs would not be restrained and she could close them quickly.

"Shelley, let me go through the process I am planning to use and see if you have any better ideas. The first thing is that I need to turn on a lamp that is on the stand over there which will give me the proper light I need to protect your safety and avoid any nicks. As you can see, the standard lighting in here is not good, especially at night, so that is the reason for this extra light.

Then I will put on these new latex gloves, again for your protection.

Next, I am going to remove the largest part of your hair with these electric clippers. I will be very careful to not let the clipper touch your skin. After that, I will use a hot towel applied directly to your genital area to soften the remaining hair. If it is too hot for you, just let me know and I can remove it quickly. It will be at the same temperature as the towels I use when shaving a man's face but I don't know how sensitive you are to the heat. I am going to be very careful to assure your comfort."

Jamie responded, "That sounds fine. I have used hot towels before and it should be no problem. What comes after the heat treatment?"

"The next part is what I want to discuss. Normally, with a man's shave, I would apply some warm oil and then a shaving cream and massage it into the skin with my hands. Since this is my first time at this, what are you comfortable in allowing me to do? Do you want to massage the oil and cream into the hairs?"

"Mark, I am laying here with my genitals fully on display to you. I know you are a professional and will not take advantage of me. Please do what you need to do and let's get going."

"OK, so I will apply the oil and cream and then carefully begin to shave the area as needed. Please know that I will have to gently stretch the skin around your vulva to allow the razor to remove all the hair. To do that, I will have to touch your labia majora and possibly the labia minora to stretch the skin. But I promise to do the least amount I can and not touch your most sensitive areas more than necessary." I was proud of my knowledge of the proper names for a woman's genital parts. It took two trips to the library to find a medical book that showed them.

"Sounds good. I will let you know if I get uncomfortable but I trust you." I noticed a slight smile on her lips.

"Good, so please lie back on the pillow while I pull the light into place."

"Mark, do you think you can also remove the hair around my anus."

I almost knocked the light over. Never once did I even think about hair growing in the butt crack of a woman. Oh god, why did I agree to this?

"Of course, Shelley, I was planning to ask you about that." I lied, but did it convincingly.

"Yes, I think while you are working there, just go ahead and make me as hairless as you can."

"While we are thinking ahead, would you like the hair above your Mons shaped into some pattern or removed totally?"

Without missing a beat, she said "How about trimming it to form a small neat triangle with the bottom pointing to my clitoris."

Again, I swallowed hard and felt my cock jump. Sophisticated women just did not talk to men using those words in the 1960's, at least not in polite company. But this was a whole new world to me and I needed to grow into it. It was clear that Shelley had thought about this and her decisions were both quick and final.

I picked up the trimmer normally used on men's hair, held it so that Shelley could see what I was doing and cleaned it carefully with disinfectant.

"I want to make sure everything that comes anywhere near you is clean and bacteria free. This is the trimmer I will use for initial hair removal." She nodded.

I turned on the trimmer and its quiet hum began the next stage in my career. Carefully trimming all the longer hair from her pussy area took only a couple of minutes and did not require me to touch her. I then took a small new brush and swept away the cut hair. I must have touched her clit with the brush bristles since she jumped a bit. But she didn't say anything and I continued.

I did notice the hair in her anal area while I worked but decided to not try that trimmer between her cheeks due to its size and shape. I also did not think the vibration to her ass would be appreciated. (By the end of my career, I learned this was not an issue at all. I will tell you more later.)

I removed the hot towel from the steamer and carefully unfolded it with tongs to cool to the proper temperature. Normally, while I waited for this to happen, I would be telling jokes or listening to an extravagant lie about something. With Shelley, I really could not think of anything to say. Being speechless was never a characteristic of mine before tonight. She was likewise quite with her eyes closed. After a couple of minutes, the towel felt right to me and I folded it to fit between her legs.