The Hairdresser

"What are you doing on the weekend?" she asked me, as she massaged my scalp.

One of those usual vacuous hairdresser questions, I thought.

"Oh, not much. Maybe catch a movie on Saturday night. No plans, really", I said, as I enjoyed the feeling of her nails pressing into my head.

I breathed in the perfume of the shampoo and, with my eyes closed, hardly listened as she talked on. Once or twice, though, I opened my eyes and found myself looking straight up from the basin, into her dark almond eyes.

"You've got really long eyelashes, you know!" she giggled at one point, as she rinsed my hair off.

Her slender fingers playing with my hair and her flirtatious manner made me think of flirting a little too. I've been a little out of practice lately, as I've been seeing someone. However, she's a doctor, studying for exams, so she doesn't often have time to socialise. Besides, she was out of town for a conference this weekend . . .

"Mmmm, that feels nice!" I smiled, eyes still shut, as she rubbed my scalp one last time under the warm water. I jiggled my head a little, like a cat wanting a rub.

"You want more, do you?" she laughed. "OK, just a little, 'cos we're not too busy!" She sat me up in a chair and towelled my hair off a little. I let my head fall back into her skillful hands; she kneaded and pressed just the right spots and if it wasn't so invigorating, I would have fallen asleep.

"Is this nice?" she asked, pressing two spots on my temples.

"Mmmm", I murmured, not wanting the pleasure to stop.

"What about this?" she added, with a little giggle. I felt my head fall back a fraction and rest against something soft. As her fingertips came to the front and pushed my head back, I could feel her soft breasts envelope the back of my head. I was in heaven!

"That feels amazing!" I said quietly, as she massaged my brow and hairline with both hands and leaned forward to knead her tits against me as well.

"OK, time for your haircut now", she said, suddenly moving away and standing behind me. She smoothed her top as she did so and, because her hands - and my hair - were damp, I could see her dark nipples through the thin fabric. For a small girl, she had large shapely tits.

"Mmmm, my t-shirt got a bit wet!" she giggled, patting the damp fabric with her slim hands. "Maybe I should get the blow-dryer out and dry it off, huh?", she added, looking me in the eye through the mirror.

"No, don't worry too much; I like what I see", I replied, with a little wink. She replied with a smile and took up her scissors and comb.

As my haircut went on, Natasha told me a lot about herself: she's 22, born in Malaysia, loves Hollywood flicks and became a hairdresser when she was 16. "I'm a bit of showoff!" she giggled.

"Like what I did to you before!" she added, as she pushed her tits up against my head once more.

"It's a pity I'm turned around the wrong way!" I laughed, looking at her pretty face in the mirror, laughing back at me.

Natasha snipped away for another minute or two in silence while I admired her slender brown arms and the breasts softly jiggling under her shirt. Once more she leaned on my shoulder and, again, brushed her tits against the side of my head.

"What did you say you were doing Saturday night?" she said softly.

I turned my head a little towards her. She didn't pull away at all. Instead, she leaned further forward so my face was virtually nuzzling into her nipple, which I could feel hardening under her shirt.

I pulled away, wondering who else in the salon was watching; nobody seemed to have noticed. I looked up. "About Saturday night, Natasha - well, I've got a girlfriend, although she's out of town."

"I've got a boyfriend too and, funnily enough, he's away too", Natasha said coyly. "Were you going to ask me out?" she pouted.

I thought hard about this dilemma. Surely a night out with such a sexy little bimbo wouldn't do any harm? Especially if I didn't sleep with her. She was a bit of a ditzy type, though, and I wondered if we'd actually find things to talk about for a whole evening. And what if one of Karen's friends saw us together?

"Yeah, I was going to ask you out", I said, feeling myself redden slightly. "I love the company of show-offs", I added, grinning.

* * *

The first thing that struck me when the door of Natasha's flat opened was the smell: powerful incense and aromatherapy oils, mingled with a little marijuana. Second was Natasha herself: transformed completely from the hairdresser in jeans and t-shirt.

"Hiya!" she said cheerfully as she reached up and kissed me on the lips. Her eyes were done up with lots of dark makeup, making her look very exotic and her full lips were glossy from lipstick. "Come in to my little den!"

As she turned and walked in front of me, I realised how tiny she really was. Slender legs, miniscule waist, only about 5 feet tall. She was wearing a slinky satiny skirt, mid-thigh length, and just a tiny top, exposing a lot of midriff. She'd piled her hair up on her head, accentuating her slender neck and shoulders.

"Nice little place you've got here", I commented, as I looked around the dimly lit room. No furniture really, just piles of cushions on the floor, a big boombox stereo which was thumping out some dub reggae thing and a few cartoons in plain black frames on the walls.

"I'm just having a little smoke", Natasha giggled as she took a burning butt from an ashtray. "Here", she said as she handed it to me, "Oh, and take a seat".

I did as I was told, partly because I wanted a better view of Natasha's slim brown legs as she walked barefoot around the room. "So where's your boyfriend tonight?" I asked, to make conversation.

"Like your girlfriend, he's out of the way - for tonight", she laughed as she swished her skirt around her hips. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll go and get ready".

Get ready? I wondered what that meant. I could hear her in the bedroom rummaging around. Pretty soon, a voice spoke. "I was thinking of this dress, but it shrunk a little when I washed it".

Natasha appeared at the doorway holding up a tiny tube of white fabric. She stretched it across her breasts and, she was right, the lower hem barely covered her thighs.

"It looks just fine to me!" I laughed, hoping she'd have the guts to at least try it on in front of me.

"Yeah, right! I'm just looking for some shoes", she laughed back, turning her cute butt away from the door. "Hey, I need some more of that smoke", she added as I stretched out on the cushions once more.

I took it in to her and found her sitting on the bed, tying the straps of some extraorinarily high heeled platforms. The satin of her skirt sat loosely across the very top of her thighs, revealing most of her slim brown legs.

"You like?" she asked, pointing her feet straight out at me, once both shoes were on.

I handed her the smoke and took one slim foot in my hand. The skin was smooth and brown and she had bright pink painted nails. Like her wrists, her ankles were impossibly narrow. It gave me a hard on just feeling the silkiness of her skin and watching her tiny foot arch with pleasure as I stroked it.

"Can you walk in these?" I laughed. They must have been six inch heels, at least.

"Of course!" Natasha giggled. "They're a tiny bit big for me but, then, nearly everything is!" She gave me a little wink, which stirred my hard-on, then stood up in her shoes.

Standing, her feet arched strongly upward, outlining the musculature of her smooth legs; the extra height made the skirt cling nicely to her shapely butt. She handed the smoke back to me and took a step to look at herself in the mirror.

Natasha gave her butt a little shake. "No VPL, huh?" she asked as she studied our reflections in the mirror. I gave her a querying look.

"Visible Panty Line?" she giggled, as she smoothed the back of her skirt down with her pretty hands.

"Not that I can see" I replied, moving to stand right behind her and looking down at the smooth satin that fell into the cleft of her butt cheeks. Her perfume caught my nostrils and I took a deep breath as a wisp of her hair brushed against my face.

"Bra?" Natasha asked, moving her hands to her tits. Only as she said this did it register that she hadn't been wearing one. Her top was finely crocheted white cotton with a halter neck. It was held together at the front with a large silver ring; through it, Natasha's deep brown cleavage could be seen.

I was wondering if such big tits on such a tiny girl were natural, when Natasha answered the question for me.

"I'm lucky with these, huh?" she said, squeezing the flesh up and almost out of her top. "Dad's Malaysian and mum's English, so I got his skin and her tits!" she giggled.

* * *

As we walked down The Promenade, Natasha talked and talked: soap opera and movie star gossip, that sort of thing. I didn't say much - I think the smoking shut me up a bit - but I did enjoy all the looks Natasha got, from men and women alike.

"Is this place OK?" I pointed at Federini's, a place which does bad, over-priced Italian food, but has some intimate booths to sit in.

"Oh yeah! I love Federini's!" Natasha squealed. "Let's get a booth!" she added, clattering through the entrance in her high heels.

The head waiter took in Natasha as she walked up to him. Walking in high heels made her tits bounce nicely and, in the dim light, her long smooth legs looked made of copper.

"A booth?" he said as I approached and nodded. "This way, sir".

Natasha took my hand and almost ran to the booth the waiter pointed to. It was upholstered in plush blue velvet and had a tasselled tent-like top, rather like a four-poster bed. She slid in one side and, rather than let me sit opposite, pulled me in next to her.

"This is cosy", I said, as she pressed up against me. Her hand went to my thigh as we looked over the menu and it stayed there after we'd ordered.

"I've had such a busy week!" Natasha said, "And it's so good to just relax. Can I stretch out, honey?"

Without waiting for any reply, she leaned against the corner of the booth and stretched her long legs out across my lap. "You don't mind, do you?" she winked.

"Not if you don't mind me stroking them" I replied, beginning at her toes and soles, and moving my hand up to knees and, then, her thighs.

While I did this, she chattered on, occasionally sipping her drink, once or twice sitting upright. However, she'd always return her legs to my lap where, by now, I had quite a hard-on. As she drank more, Natasha also became more careless with her skirt and, after a while, stopped pulling it down when she shifted position.

"Yummy ravioli!" she giggled, wiping her mouth with her napkin. During her meal, her thigh had been hard up against mine and she hadn't flinched when my hand rested on her bare skin once or twice.

"I'm so full!" she went on, leaning into the corner of the booth once more. "I can hardly fit into this skirt now", she added, looking at me, as she undid the side-lace which held it together.

I watched as her nimble fingers untied the lace and pulled the sides of her skirt apart an inch. She slid both hands down into the front of her skirt and clutched her belly. "Oh, God! I've eaten too, too, too much!"

"Can I rest on you again?" she asked, as she swung both legs up onto my lap once more. As she did this, I noticed with interest that where she'd untied the lace, there was no sign of underwear, just the smooth brown skin of her hip. I wondered if she'd been flirting with me all evening, with just a skimpy satin skirt between me and her bare pussy?

"Is there some drink that's good to have if you've eaten too much?" she asked, her big eyes glowing at me from the dim corner of the booth while she continued to rub her belly.

I ordered a digestive from the waiter. "That'll fix you up!" I smiled.

Natasha kept massaging her stomach and moaning softly. "Where does your stomach hurt?" I asked.

"I'll show you". She leaned right back, pushing her legs onto me even further. She untied the side-lace until all of the bare flesh of her thigh, hip and waist could be seen through the slit she'd created. Definitely no panties there, I thought to myself.

"Right down here!" she murmured, her hands on her lower stomach, pushing her skirt down even further. As she said this, the waiter returned with Natasha's Underberg. He eyed us both carefully as he put the drink down and gave me a barely perceptible smile.

"I should sit up to drink this, huh?" Natasha smiled. She held her hand out to me and I pulled her upright. This meant that her skirt was now just loosely bunched fabric around her waist but her legs were together, still on my lap.

"Wow, it's bitter!" she said, as she sipped it. She placed one foot on the floor, leaving the other on my lap. Her legs spread like this, I couldn't resist looking down, to see if she'd showed herself.

"Does that feel any better?" I asked in a concerned tone, as my hand stroked her upper thigh.

I could hardly believe it when Natasha responded by arching her body back and resumed stroking her belly with her hands. This time, though, she'd pushed the skirt down so far I could see her closely trimmed bush quite clearly.

She saw what I was looking at straight away. "Whoops!" she giggled. "Skirt's too low, huh?"

She slowly pulled the waist of the skirt up just an inch and, then, toying with the side lace, undid it even further, leaving her entire side bare, but her pubic hair covered.

"VPL's certainly not a problem now!" I joked.

"Yeah, but what if Boffo, you know, the waiter, comes back?" She giggled at the name she'd given him, as she stretched the edge of her crumpled skirt down between her still spread thighs.

"Feeling any better?" I asked, admiring her taut belly and watching her fingers caress under her skirt.

"It feels much better after that drink and without my skirt so tight", she sighed. "But I shouldn't sit here massaging myself like this, should I?" she added with a little giggle. "You might get the wrong idea!"

"I sure don't mind", I grinned. "Even I do get the wrong idea . . ."

"Hmmm, alright then", she smiled. "You know, this massaging feels real good, but my skirt's gone all twisted".

"Do you want a hand?" I asked, probably too eagerly.

"We are in a public place!" she said sharply, but with a wicked grin.

For a couple of minutes, we sat like that: I sipped my dessert wine, Natasha finished her Underberg and returned to stroking her belly. Then, she surprised me.

"I'm gonna take this damn thing off!" she said, in a mock angry tone of voice.

Her hands moved to the loosened side of her skirt and, one eyelet at a time, she unlaced it completely. She leaned forward and dangled the lace above her glass and let it fall in, laughing loudly.

Natasha gave me a challenging look as she lay back again, arching even further, causing the fabric of her skirt to shift and, almost, to fall away from her pussy completely.

"I can see you're feeling a whole lot better!" I said quietly.

I still couldn't believe I had this almost naked bimbo lying half on top of me in a public restaurant.

"Mmmm", Natasha murmured. At that moment, our waiter returned to take our empty glasses. He stopped and flushed bright red when he saw Natasha sprawled like that. She smiled at him and slowly took the corner of her skirt and stretched it across her pussy which, moments before, was almost in full view.

"Sorry", she said to the waiter in a low, flirtatious voice, "But I had a bit of a tummy-ache, so I loosened my skirt. I hope that's OK".

The waiter had recovered a bit of his composure. "Oh, that's just fine, miss. These booths are, after all, quite private".

She looked down at the satin across her lap. The waiter's and my eyes followed her pretty hand as she rubbed the fabric against her mound. "Mmmm, privacy. That's good, isn't it?" she said, looking at us both under her lowered eyelashes.

The waiter was rooted to the spot and my eyes were fixed on Natasha's hand, which was now making circling movements. She raised her hips up off the seat and slowly pushed the satin of her skirt against her pussy with a finger.

"Man!" said the waiter softly, as he continued to stare.

Natasha drank in all the attention and kept pushing the satin into her slit, a big grin on her face.

"I've drunk far too much. I've gotta go to the bathroom", she giggled eventually, looking directly at me.

I looked at the waiter's dumbstruck face and then back at Natasha, who pulled the skirt around her and sat up with it crumpled in her lap. She pulled the lace out of her glass and held it up. "How the hell do I get this back in?" she giggled.

"Doesn't matter!" she added, as she pushed past me. I felt her bare butt brush against my cock as she slid past and then watched as she held the skirt together at the waist with her fingers. Like that, she walked towards the restrooms.

"One hell of a young lady there", the waiter commented, as he cleared the table. "Anything else you'll be needing sir?"

"I don't think so. Just the bill, thanks".

By the time Natasha came back, I'd paid and was leaning back in the corner of the booth, running my imagination through what I'd just seen. She was smiling again now and her long strides were making it obvious that she wore nothing under her improvised skirt which she only just held together at her hip.

"That's better!" she giggled, as she squeezed in next to me. She let the side of her skirt fall open as she again picked up her lace from the table and toyed with it. "I don't think I need this, huh?".

"No, neither do I", I said, running my hand up her thigh and hip where the skirt had fallen away. I pushed the fabric off altogether and was pleased to see that Natasha simply giggled and let her knees fall apart.

At last I had a clear view of her beautiful pussy. Natasha also looked down. "So, what're we going to do now?" she smiled, as she swung her legs together and, then, apart even further.

Her thighs were now as far apart as possible and little whiffs of her pussy scent were driving me crazy. "I think you can guess!!" I said.

"What about your girlfriend?" Natasha giggled.

"Like your boyfriend, she's out of the way - for tonight!" I laughed.