Stepping out of the shower, Nadia knew that today was not going to be just another ordinary day. She had this feeling that today was going to be different somehow as she reached for the bathrobe and put it on with her thick red hair tied up into a bun. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and let her ginger curls fall loose over her shoulders. Her hair was the most precious thing about her. Afterall, it was the focal attention of her career as a model. And today she was going to pamper herself the way she wanted. No cameras, no make-up, no sitting around under bright hot lights in a busy fashion studio. Today was all to herself, just being who she was and enjoying the things she wanted.
It started six months ago just after a photo-shoot for some new hair and beauty product. Her image, head, face and shoulders were used to launch the specially formulated shampoo that was to revolutionise natural colour control, even prevent premature grey hair in younger people, and already her picture was on almost every advertising poster across the globe. It was the first time her image had been so widely used and people began to recognise her wherever she went. Friends and family, complete strangers who would stop her in the street, now saw Nadia as the red haired lady on the poster. It was fame and yet not what she had expected. Nadia was beginning to realise what it felt like to be a celebrity and her own private and personal identity was slowly diminishing.
There was this need to escape and do something just for herself and be who she really was instead of being associated with a brand new plastic bottle of shampoo that everyone was now buying, except herself of course. Nadia did not use the product and never would. She had a friend who she visited regularly who had a salon she had always used since her career began. She allowed no one else to fashion her style but them, and it was so uncanny how the advertising industry on this occasion had over looked that one important fact.
Nadia was ready. No heavy make over, just eyeliner and her favourite lip gloss. She ordered a cab on the phone and waited in her secure suburban ground floor apartment. She had only been living there a week, alone and secluded. She had no need for friends, only close ones, even more so now that she was well known in the public eye. She also valued her privacy and self-dignity, never wanting to share her life outside of a closed circle of acquaintances. Fame was not her target in the career she had chosen. Nadia just wanted to better herself, use her natural beauty to secure her future while she could. Today was going to be her moment to escape before going on further and whatever the future may bring.
The cab collected her and dropped her in that part of town where the salon was, in a back street arcade of small businesses hidden from the rush of the more popular establishments. The owner, a small middle-aged lady, who had always been there, greeted her as she walked in. The stylist, known to her customers as Madam Yvette, had realised Nadia's secret and ignored it. She knew that it was her own care and attention that made the product visually popular and not the product itself. Over the years they had become respected friends, as in customer and vendor terms, and so there seemed no place for arguments, if any. Besides, Nadia had no control over what had happened if she was to continue to allow her image to carry on selling the new product. Nobody asked her, and nobody cared.
"You look beautiful as usual Nadia." Yvette told her, taking her coat. "Please make yourself at home."
The salon was quiet. There were only two customers being tended to by Madam Yvette's faithful staff and Nadia took a seat in the foyer and waited. "I am not so busy today as you see." Yvette continued to explain in her Anglo French accent. "Is it the usual that you require?" Nadia nodded shyly and smiled. "Good, then I have someone new who you would love to meet. I have trained him personally and he is almost as good as me. I hope you don't mind if I hand you over to him?"
Yvette called out his name, "Anthony." Then from a private room Anthony appeared. He was tall, dark and young. So dark, it was obvious that this man had African origins. Nadia had a thing for handsome black men and he was no exception. His sexy brown eyes attracted her instantly and he was fit, muscular and smooth skinned, nothing like the person she had expected to be a hair stylist. Her first thoughts were that he could be gay and that would be appropriate, although a possible waste of 'man' in her personal opinion.
Anthony held out his hand and Nadia stood, taking it. "It's nice to meet you. It's not often we have someone as well known as yourself," he told her. Like a gentleman, he kissed her hand and winked an eye. Nadia could feel tingles running up and down her spine. This man was gorgeous and so polite she thought. Her fantasy lover in so many dreams she often had.
"Anthony will take you into the private salon," Yvette explained. "There it will be much better for both of you to get acquainted with each other. He knows what style you require; I have given him instructions and how to treat your hair. He knows all of my secrets and I trust him."
"This way miss, if you please." Nadia followed him into the private salon. It was small yet pleasant. The usual equipment and various bottles of treatments stored on a small table. She sat in the chair and looked at herself in the mirror as Anthony stood behind her, taking her hair in his hands and feeling its texture. He was so gentle and he smiled at her as her eyes locked on his kind and distinctive face in the reflection. "Madam Yvette said that you were her special customer. Your name is Nadia I take it?" She nodded her reply. "Good, then that's the formalities out of the way."
Anthony closed the door and clicked the lock so that they were totally in private. Nadia did not mind being alone with him, yet she felt as if things were becoming a little too personal as he pushed the chair closer to the sink and he asked her kindly to remove her blouse. "I like to work unrestricted if you don't mind." She hesitated and thought for a while, knowing that underneath her blouse she wore the skimpiest bra she had in her wardrobe. He was still a stranger, but she felt as if she already knew him. What she did with this stranger in her most private fantasies left nothing personal about her unrevealed. Here he was, as real as ever, exactly the type of man her own imagine often conjured up. There were no doubts he was sexy and what did she have to hide? It was just herself and he, and nobody else in that private room.
Nadia removed her blouse and Anthony watched, taking it. She was not buxom by any means. She was average and the black lace bra highlighted her pale smooth breasts. He made it obvious he liked what he saw by focusing his eyes upon them. "You have a wonderful complexion Nadia. Very nice," he told her. She returned a smile and felt good about his comment. "You can remove the bra if you wish. I don't want to spoil it with these treatments I am going to use."
