"You have such beautiful red hair," Carlisle commented. He ran his fingers through Marshall's locks. "So soft and supple. You treat it well, I can tell. What do you use?"
"Just shampoo and conditioner. Whatever's on sale."
"Oh, that's just criminal!" Carlisle tutted. "I'll give you some product before you leave. The same stuff I'm going to use on you today."
Marshall cast a hopeful glance at Lee, but Lee was grinning, and obviously had no intention of interfering in whatever was about to happen. Probably since he'd orchestrated it to begin with.
"How long is your hair?" Carlisle continued. He turned Marshall to look behind him and whistled. "All the way down to your perfect ass. Oh honey, so beautiful." He rotated Marshall once again, facing him. "Would you be interested in donating ten inches of your pretty hair to Locks of Love?"
"What's that?"
"An organization that helps kids who are sick and lose their hair but can't afford wigs. What do you think?"
Marshall never hesitated. "Then let's do that." Taking ten inches would still leave him plenty of length, but he wondered how much. As if the stylist could read his mind, he said, "I think it'll still fall below your shoulders." That would work, Marshall decided.
"I'll be right back, wait right here." Carlisle floated off and Lee took advantage of his absence to lean in and murmur in Marshall's ear. "I'm gonna pamper your ass ten ways to Sunday." Marshall began to tingle, both at his proximity and his words. Lee kissed his ear and stepped back, just as Carlisle returned, a bright blue sheet in his hand.
"Let's start by washing your hair, sweetheart. Right this way. Lee, you're welcome to come too, honey." He led them to a small room, just off the main one. It held four sinks and chairs, and a shelf filled with various product.
Carlisle swept Marshall into one of the chairs and covered him from the neck down with the plastic cover. "There. Don't want to get hair anywhere it shouldn't be. Lean back here. That's good."
Marshall found himself with his head hanging into the sink, but Carlisle quickly supported it with his hand. "You know, Lee, you two make a lovely couple. I'm so jealous."
Lee's reply was drowned out by the water Carlisle suddenly aimed into Marshall's hair, over his ears. It felt good and warm. He gave in to the sensation of floating, relaxing in Carlisle's care as he massaged shampoo into his scalp and hair, followed by conditioner. Carlisle's fingers were strong, yet gentle. He rinsed Marshall's hair and sat him up, toweling his hair dry.
"Feel good?" the stylist asked, and Marshall replied, "Mmmhmmm," producing a chuckle from Lee.
"I wish I could find myself a cute Texas stud like you two," Carlisle commented, as he helped Marshall rise from the chair. "Where'd you find this one, Lee?"
Marshall darted a quick glance at Lee, whose expression never changed. Before he could respond, Carlisle pointed at the seat Marshall had just vacated. "Plop those cute buns down there, Lee," he instructed him.
