I've been seeing my barber, Liz, for my haircuts for some 20-plus years. I get a cut every two weeks on Saturday morning; that's just a leftover from my military career. And Liz reserves two appointment blocks for me. She often gives me a shoulder and neck massage, which she does for few others due to her carpel tunnel syndrome in her wrists and hands. Liz jokes that I get a cut every two weeks whether I need it or not. Liz is 15 years younger than me, but we've become good friends through the years, and we've talked about just about everything. We could talk about anything and everything because each barber has their own room to work in. None of the rooms have doors, but there is still a measure of privacy. I talked with her through her divorce several years ago. She has helped me through some struggles in my own marriage. Through the years our talk has become more and more personal and intimate, and it seems she and I both like the direction it takes. My marriage has survived so far, but without the intimacy and excitement I would like. Liz has found a beau and they are steady with each other.
I suppose I should provide the obligatory description of Liz. Liz is in great shape. She has two grown children, but it would be hard to tell that by just looking at her body. Her breasts occasionally brush me as she works her way around the chair, leaning in close to get the trim just right. I like to keep my hands on the arm of the barber chair since she'll move closer with her entire body and I'll get a feel of her legs and once in a while a near feel of paradise. All that comes on the back of my hand or at the elbow. I've never been blatant by feeling or grabbing because when we first met, she made it clear she wasn't pleased when men did that to her. So I accept what she gives - accidently or otherwise.
During one conversation a few weeks ago about oral sex she said, "That's what I'm about - oral, I love oral!" Well, I'm an oral kind of guy. I would rather eat pussy than fuck it. The idea and act of going down on a woman that trusts me enough to spread her legs wide open, allowing me to see all of her, and then allowing me to tenderly work my way up her legs to gently lick, nibble, and suck her lower lips and clit turns me on to no end. That conversation has led to others, and we found we have similar interests in sex.
Recently, as we talked of our mutual love of oral, I mentioned Literotica to her and told her a bit about it. I mentioned that I had been reading it for eight years but only recently had become a member, having decided to try my hand at writing. As we talked about it a bit, she expressed her disappointment that I had not told her about the site sooner. I really had no answer. I had no idea why I had not told her about it, given the depth of our sexually-focused discussions through the years. She said that she thought reading the stories to one another could be exciting and asked if I did that with my wife, Trish. I explained that I had tried, but Trish took to erotic literature like she did other things sexual - not much at all. She expressed her condolences at that and reiterated that she thought it could be fun, and I agreed. I took a chance and told her I would love to do that with someone who appreciated good erotic literature and offered to start our own reading club. she giggled but didn't say anything more, and as I was leaving reiterated that my offer remains open. She simply looked me in the eyes after hugging me and said, "I know".
I had promised to send her the link to Literotica and to my first story, and I did. I didn't hear anything from her and when our next haircut appointment came up, she apologized that she had not read my story or any other story. I understood as it was December and the holiday season was in full swing. She was busy with elderly parents locally, as well as a long-distance daughter, and keeping the business going during a busy time. It's strange to me how people know Liz only earns a living when people are sitting in the chair, but they have no compunction whatsoever calling and cancelling at the last minute. She was busy making calls to generate business and rearranging the calendar around the holidays, as well as helping everyone locally. So it didn't bother me that she hadn't read anything. We had a rather ordinary appointment and didn't talk about anything really special.
Christmas came and went and preparations continued for the New Year's holiday. Then the text arrived.
"Hey, Rick! Would you change your appointment to late Friday afternoon? I need some extra time on Saturday morning for some personal stuff."
"Sure!" I responded. "What time?"
"How about 4:30?"
