This is a fictitious story of a young man's first and later visits to a hairdressing salon.
Any sexual activity occurs when all protagonists are aged 18 or over.
This is a slow build up story, so for those who desire more prompt gratification I would recommend Chapter 2 which will be submitted shortly.
Regards Steve
*****
Jeremy an only child, lived in small English market town with his parents. Up until the age of sixteen he accompanied his father to the barbers. The establishment was run by an elderly Greek man called George who reeked of strong cigarettes and had at least four days growth of stubble on his chin.
At sixteen Jeremy entered his school's Sixth Form and obtained a Saturday job in a local supermarket. This provided him for the first time, a degree of financial independence from his parents which allowed him to seek out somewhere else to have his hair cut. It may have been an inadvertently overheard a comment or just his view that his new classmates had hairstyles which seemed cool and trendy which led him to this. As he looked at his hair in the mirror, no shape, no style not remotely in touching distance of the latest fashion he decided to visit The Salon.
The Salon was a permanent fixture in the town. Opened just after the war by Marco, an ex Italian POW, it was now managed by his grandson Nico.
Jeremy knew he didn't have to book appointment so one Thursday afternoon after double maths he visited The Salon for the first time.
He was greeted by Nico who rather disdainfully looked him up and down, 'cut is it sir?'
He nodded, but what immediately struck Jeremy was the absence of tobacco and petrol smells. The smell of petrol courtesy of the car parts which George left at the rear of his shop. The unfamiliar smells of The Salon included perfume, hairspray and talcum powder.
'Take a seat.'
A few moments later a surly looking girl aged about nineteen with dyed red hair sauntered over to him. Jeremy's eyes narrowed as he vaguely recognised her from school although she was in her final year when he was in his first year.
'What can I do for you?' She asked in between chews of her gum.
Jeremy had conducted research on the type of cut and style he wanted to the extent he had cut out a few pictures of a well known trendy young actor. Whilst he didn't want to mimic the actors exact cut, something near would suffice.
'Well,' he stumbled, 'something like this...' as he pulled out a magazine cutting from his pocket, 'you know so, I'd...don't look such a geek.'
She smiled to herself as she thought it would require more than a haircut to prevent this. 'Okay, I'll see what I can do, but no promises.'
Jeremy did not hold out much hope as she started off spraying water into his hair, not even apologising when a jet went directly into his left eye. As he blinked, he pictured her shaving all his hair off, or cutting it really short with tramlines in all the wrong places.
As she busied herself away he looked ahead in the mirror. Later he felt himself blush as she leant in to make sure her cuts were straight. This was an unexpected bonus, a true virgin, Jeremy had never been as close to a girl and could smell her perfume as her face was only inches away from his. Taking in a deep breath as he hoped he would not get an erection. Even if her cut was as bad as he thought it would be, having a woman cut his hair was so much better than smelly old George.
He was too shy to attempt conversation, but felt rather left out as the other customers in The Salon seemed to all be chatting to their stylists. Apart from his natural shyness, she was so much older and consequently mature so he felt intimidated by her. If he was too shy to say anything to girls his own age at school what hope was there of him saying anything to her?
'Hmm,' Donna said to herself a few times as she cut the young mans hair. As she snipped away she wondered who on earth was the culprit who had cut his hair so badly and was rather amused that he had presented her with some clippings and a request to look just like the young actor who she had a secret crush on.
Jeremy tried not to catch her eye but when he did in the mirror a few times felt himself turn scarlet. During the cut he tried to see what she was doing but she worked very quickly in sharp contrast to her surly initial manner.
'Right that's you done then,' as she removed the drape, brushing a few stray hairs away.
Jeremy blinked as he could not believe how different he looked, 'wow,' was all he said, 'that's amazing I look really...' he reigned in his potential complementary adjectives, 'thanks.'
Donna smiled to herself she was not used to such compliments and without that horrible hair-style her customer was indeed quite handsome, something she did not notice when she first saw him.
'So...,' she said, 'student?'
He nodded.
'Β£7.00 then.'
Jeremy handed over Β£10.00 note.
When Donna made to give him his change, 'no, no keep it, you've done a really fantastic job.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes.'
She smiled again, not to herself but to her new favourite customer, 'thank you, I'm not used to such compliments.'
'You should be, that's the best haircut I've ever had.'
'That's very sweet of you, I'll see you again then?'
'Yes definitely.'
Donna was left surprised and wished all her customers were like that not just with the generous tip but with the genuine compliments. Moreover she felt a bit bad about her initial manner with him. She had vaguely recognised him, but could not think from where, a friends younger brother maybe? And in hindsight regretted not striking up a conversation.
Around three months later Jeremy returned to The Salon immediately noticing the girl who had cut his hair. Fortunately she was not with a client so she was available to cut his hair again.
'Hello,' she greeted him.
'Hi,' he replied and then summoning up all his courage, 'you gave me a fantastic hair cut last time, it was so excellent.'
Donna smiled as his old fashioned almost boy-scout manner of speaking, 'yes and you gave me a really nice tip, so let's hope I can do a good as job as last time.'
On his second cut there was conversation which flowed with ease, Donna asking, 'did you go to Napier School?'
'Yes.'
'I thought your face looked familiar, is Mr Kerslake still there?'
'Yes.'
'What about that old witch Mrs Kitchener?'
'Yes,' and realising he was answering her questions in exactly the same manner added, 'she's still there.'
'She really hated me, always giving me detentions.'