One Week with Esme, or
How Two Friends played Slave and Mistress for One Week and Became Better Friends, or
Just When You Think You Know Everything About Someone...
*
Part One
Esme has done me a great service. She discovered the great regret in my life, for which I'd lose everything were someone important in my life to discover it. She not only did not tell that someone, who she knows well, she destroyed all evidence of my indiscretion and failure. She did this out of friendship and required of me only a single favor.
"Just one thing, dear, and we're even. This other thing will not be part of our future, afterward."
"Esme, of course, whatever you say. I'm just so relieved you've taken care of ... it."
"First you must consider my request, which is not made lightly or frivolously. Our friendship will be set aside while you meet my demands. You will be doing me as great a favor as I've done you, no, actually, much greater, but it will challenge our relationship."
Now, dear Reader, you must understand that Esme and I are best friends. We share everything and we know each other intimately. Yes, we've made love, but she knows I really prefer men, or as she says it, 'Men, and me.' She doesn't make a big deal about it and we've gone months without being 'together' as we call it. She always lets me introduce the topic and is patient with me and the best friend ever in any case. But our relationship counts physical intimacy as only a small part - we are girlfriends and have no secrets. We've felt each others' tears on our cheeks many, many times and given solace and support in the worst of times.
There's nothing I wouldn't do for her. What could she possibly mean?
"I want you to work in my salon for one week. You'll be the 'extra' girl."
"You mean the one that sweeps and cleans and helps, hoping to learn the business and..."
"Yes. You know they never stay long. We don't treat them well and it's so easy to find new ones and, well, it's just part of learning the salon business. You have to be the bitch, first..."
"Well, that seems a small favor, I mean, of course, I'll do it, but I"m just curious..."
"Well, I haven't told you everything, darling, of course," her beautiful smile became evil.
I just stared at her. She is so imaginative.
Normally that is a good thing. In a hot tub, for instance, with all those cheerleaders...
"Pay attention. You know this is the week of that big golf tournament - all the big shots, celebrities, filthy rich men and women from around the world?"
Oh, dear.
"This started a few years ago. The extra girl was a cute little thing with really lovely curves and a saucy manner...during the tournament week, one of my wealthier clients made a special request. She 'bought' the extra girl and had her, exclusively, all week long. Nothing unpleasant, of course, and the sweet little thing found out she enjoyed the company of an attractive older women. She made quite a bit of money and finished college, all on that one week."
"So, you want to sell me to some rich old woman?"
"No, no, dear, that would be much too easy. The woman's friends found out and the demand quickly outstripped supply. I had to be creative and the tradition evolved..."
"Oh, dear." Did I say that out loud?
"It became an ... auction."
"I see." Unfortunately, I meant.
"You'll have to work the week at the salon, disrobed."
"While the ladies come to have their hair done." Not a question.
"Yes, dear, and you'll have to do your best to be attractive to the clients."
"You mean, flirtatious? Sexy? Slutty?"
"Oh, no, darling, nothing so obvious. It's not been my practice to tell the extra what she was doing until later in the week, so you have to pretend to be ... natural, but naturally desirable."
"I'm really not into the whole lesbian thing, Esme, you know that - what is a 'lap dance' for another woman?" That was kind of catty, I know, but ... dear me.
"Now, dear, dear, don't be upset. I'm sure you'll do just fine. My serving for this year fell through at the last minute and you'll be doing me the greatest of personal favors..."
This, or course, subtly brought the conversation back to my debt to her. Of course, but she was so sweet about it.
"I agree." This with a sweet smile. I found myself actually curious about it. I get bored so easily.
Her surprise did not show as she smiled back at me. Normally, we would hug to show our relationship was not affected by something new. I think we both knew this one would be a challenge.
No hug.
Part Two
One Week in Her Service
I showed up at ten on Monday morning. Esme doesn't take clients until noon and I had two hours to get ready. How long does it take to undress?
"Oh, hello, darling. You can change in the blue room."
I went in and removed my clothing and hung everything in the closet. Esme's salon is very upscale and includes a private dressing room and bathroom with shower for the stylists. The shower was big enough for two and frequently served that way since Esme maintained relationships with several of the ladies who worked for her - how they didn't fight with each other all the time, I'll never know, but Esme is a special lady. They all seemed to love each other and maintained boundaries that I never tumbled to in all the time I'd known her. All of them had done my hair and seemed not to resent my friendship with their boss, either. I paid the same rate as everyone and tipped well, too.
Esme walked in and appraised me in what seemed to be the manner of a cattleman eying his prize steer.
"Off with everything, dear, let me see what we have to work with." The bitch, she already knew what I looked like. She'd licked most of it Saturday night two weeks ago. I slipped off my bra and panties and started to put my shoes back on.
"No, no, dear, I bought you some shoes to work in."
They were six inch heels, of course. Beautiful, very expensive, but six inches tall. I looked at her painfully, anticipating my legs after eight hours in torture.
"Oh, well, I think you're legs are so lovely that these will do, instead." She presented me with some shorter heels which were probably what she had in mind from the beginning. We both knew it but we both smiled at each other. I slipped them on and admired my legs in the mirror.
My naked legs, and we both admired them. I turned and watched my girly parts jiggle and bounce.
Esme admired that, too.
Our smiles were icy.
"Hurry, dear, and I'll show you your duties. Our first appointment will be here soon."
We walked into the salon. The girls couldn't suppress a giggle, but otherwise, it was just like they always had a naked 'extra' to sweep and pick up and run about, doing their bidding.
It seems the extra has to stop by each station and greet the stylist, giving them a kiss on the cheek at the beginning of the day. Then, she'd show me how she liked things arranged around her chair and give me any specific directions for her clients that day. If I was lucky, she'd let me know which ones might enjoy me staying close by, or to stand _there_, _just so_ and let the client admire my (boobs, butt, legs, feet, pussy, whatever, pick one) while I pretended not to notice. Sometimes, the client would whisper directions to the stylist which they would pass on to me. I could blush and then without seeming to comply, I'd do what they wanted - turn, jiggle, bend over (?), rub their feet, massage their calves, bend over so my breast caressed their arm, and so forth.
It was exhausting. I quickly got over my self consciousness and the stylists seemed to appreciate my helping generate the best tips of the year. I played a part of being in love with one of the shampoo girls, sneaking over for a quick kiss while one special client watched. The shampoo girl played along, slipping in a caress of varying intimacy while we smacked each others' lips in full view of the client, pretending not to be watched while everyone in the shop pretended not to watch.
