This story is a work of fiction. The story mentions or implies some real places and institutions. They are used fictitiously here. To the author's knowledge, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.
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I had gotten a football scholarship to a major midwestern university. I spent most of my time as a scout team and later back-up tight end, although I did catch a touchdown against our in-state rivals senior year. Fortunately, I was a better student than football player and graduated on time with a Bachelor's in economics. While I wasn't a star athlete, I enjoyed college sports and wanted to stay around that environment, so I got a Master's in Sports Administration from another midwestern university.
The job market was tight when I graduated. I started sending resumes in January of my second year. I may have sent one to every college and university athletic department in the country. A couple weeks after graduation, I was called by a big school in the Pacific Northwest. Could I appear for an interview in two days? I'd have liked more notice; but this was a major sports school. Yes, I'll be there day after tomorrow.
I got an airline ticket with bad connections. I hastily packed a bag, checking to make sure I had the jacket and trousers from the same suit. It was about 4:00 p.m. Pacific time the next day when I got to my overpriced hotel in a large Northwest city. Once in my tiny room, I looked in the mirror and realized I hadn't gotten a haircut recently. I didn't look professional. The woman at the front desk hesitantly said the nearest salon was four blocks away, "if you're willing to go there." I didn't ask about that qualification. I just started walking in the direction she'd given me.
It didn't register at the time that the salon's storefront was opaque. Most salons let passersby see in. This one's windows were painted over. Not thinking about that, I went in. All they had available, the receptionist told me, was a stylist and "GB," who would be available in about twenty minutes. I'd wait. The waiting area had the typical shelves of hair care products. Behind the front desk, to my right, I could see a few stations where people, mainly women, were having their hair done. To my left, was a wall with shelves and a door in the middle.
About twenty minutes later, a woman about my age in jeans and a knit top walked out of the door between the shelves. She was smiling and I saw her hand a tip to the woman who followed her. The tip, and the smock the second woman was wearing, told me she was probably the stylist. The woman in the smock went to the front desk and talked to the receptionist for a moment. Then, the woman walked to me, smiled, and asked "are you ready Mr. Stone?" I nodded affirmatively and stood. The woman, whose name tag said "Rikki" led me to the door she'd just come out of. She opened the door and said, please step in.
I stepped into a room that looked pretty much like any other hair salon I'd seen. There were four chairs and basins, two on either side of a walkway and four tables at the end of the room. I wondered why this area was walled off from the rest of the salon. However, Rikki gestured for me to sit in a chair and asked me what I wanted her to do with my hair.
Rikki took about twenty-five minutes to shampoo my hair and make it look moderately respectable. She was just finishing when the door opened. A young woman in a white polo shirt and white slacks walked in followed by a guy, also wearing a smock, who looked like a bodybuilder. The young woman's slacks and top fit tightly enough to an outstanding figure she got my attention. Rikki brought me back to earth by asking, "I assume you want your pubic hair trimmed?"
"Uh, what?" I asked.
"Most people who come to this side also want their pubic hair trimmed," Rikki replied. She could not have said what I heard. Looking across the walkway, I watched the young woman who'd just come in unbutton her slacks and drop them and her panties to her feet. She stepped out of them and turned to face me. I'd seen naked women before many times, of course, but I'd never seen hips, thighs, and a pubic mound that looked as beautiful as hers. She smiled at me, sat down, and spread her legs. The bodybuilder pulled up a stool and sat between the young woman's legs.
"Mr. Stone, the pubic hair?" Rikki asked with a hint of annoyance.
What the hell I thought. "Sure," I said.
"Please remove your pants and underwear," Rikki said. I did and noticed that the woman across the walkway was watching me. Rikki put a towel in the chair I'd been sitting in and said, "please sit down and spread your legs." I did as I was told. Rikki pulled up a stool, sat between my legs, and began trimming my pubic hair.
After a minute, Rikki relaxed a little and asked, "you've never been to a genital beautician before, have you?"
"No," I replied. "I didn't know there was such a thing."
"I think we're the only state that has licensed genital beauticians" Rikki said. "The only places you'll find them are here and a couple other towns along the coast. The rest of the state is too conservative. Now, I'm going to hold your penis up so I can trim the hair on your scrotum." Rikki took my dick in her left hand and held it against my belly while she snipped carefully around my balls with the small scissors in her right hand. I'd never had a woman whom I'd met less than half an hour earlier handling my dick, but it wasn't an unpleasant experience.
I looked across the walkway again. The pubic area that had looked so inviting on the young woman was blocked from my view by the broad shoulders of her genital beautician. She was, I guessed, my age. She had long, light brown hair. The first thing you noticed about her face was a big nose. However, with her big eyes, dimples, wide mouth, and strong chin, it worked. It wasn't a fashion model's face. It was warmer and friendlier. The longer I looked, the more attractive I realized she was. The woman caught be looking at her. We made eye contact and she smiled.
Rikki let go of my dick. "I should also do the anal hair," she said.
"Yeah, sure," I replied, still half-thinking I was asleep on the plane dreaming.
"Please follow me," Rikki said. She turned and walked towards the tables. I really had no choice. I stood up, naked from the waist down, and followed her. She put a sheet of paper like you see in doctor's offices over a table and said, "lie face down." I did.
Seconds later, I heard another sheet of paper being laid out and the young woman got on the table to my right. I had to look. She was facing me. She smiled a wide smile. "Hi, I'm Vickie," she said.
"Will," I replied. "Nice to meet you."
"I heard you tell Rikki you've never been to a salon like this before," Vickie said. "Things are a bit different up here in the Northwest, probably because we're so far from the rest of the country." I couldn't resist looking back. The bodybuilder stylist was bent over what looked from the side like a very nice ass. Guilty, I looked back at Vickie. She was still smiling. "Carlo can get hairs I can't reach," she said pleasantly.
A moment later, Carlo said, "all done Vic." Vickie stood up from the table. I expected her to walk off, but she stayed where she was.
A few seconds later, Rikki said, "You're finished Mr. Stone. You can get up."
