The two careless lovers jumped up off the floor. Miguel followed Genevieve into the staff room, a pile of clothes covering up what they could of their exposed flesh. Liam plopped himself down at the front desk and waited, surfing new messages on his iPad. Nothing. His life at the moment had slowed to a snail’s pace given he was not out and about socially these days. As he watched Genevieve and Miguel tiptoe back into the salon’s main room, he began to have second thoughts about this Lent thing. He was definitely missing out, although, he mused, sex should really have nothing at all to do with drinking. The fact that he had neither in his life was what really worried him.
Before giving up drinking for Lent, Liam hadn’t really been all that happy. Sure, his sexual appetite had been quenched with each visit to the clubs, but even that was getting tired. What he truly longed for was love, and he knew enough that you don’t find that at the Down Under. Nonetheless, he was addicted – addicted to skin, to seeing smooth, taut bodies gyrate and grind with the beats, titillating those who watched by exposing just one small bit at a time It wasn’t only the physical parts that were exposed to him, but with each thrust or wiggle, these beauties showed Liam a little more of who they were inside. The more he watched the more he understood, until he felt he knew them intimately. That was the ultimate turn-on – that and the tease, the playfulness, the ‘don’t touch’ tantalizing aspect of the experience. He had become a first class voyeur. He longed for it, he craved it, yet he wanted out. Was Lent going to save him?
The door rattled and in shuffled Mrs. Furlish. Liam didn’t mind attending to the few elderly ladies who regularly came to Snippets. He felt it kept a nice balance between the outlandish queens and dykes, the tattooed artsy types, the arrogant young stock brokers with their diamond studded wives who were regulars at the salon for cuts and colors, and who offered him a regular diet of the goings on around town. As long as his clientele didn’t object to one another, Liam figured all were welcome.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Furlish. And how are you today?” Liam stood up and gave Vivian Furlish a welcome hug. Her thin arms wrapped around Liam’s wide girth. She patted his broad back with her claw-like hands. Mrs. Furlish had to be in her late seventies, and she looked it. She had been coming to see Liam for six years. Every Friday she had a wash and set, and because she was a smoker she got it dyed once a month, to keep the grey bright and fresh looking.
“Sweetie,” Liam said gently while patting Mrs. Furlish on the top of her thinning head of hair. “I’m going to get Genevieve to wash and set you today. I’ve got a last minute cut and color to do. Rather than reschedule your appointment, I figured Genevieve could take over. Besides, she needs the practice.”
“Making the loyal customers your guinea pigs now, are you, Irish?”
“No, no, that’s not it at all Vivian. You know me better than that. You’ll love Genevieve. I know how much you like to talk and Genevieve is a great girl for gossip. And you know I’d never abandon you or leave you with someone I didn’t feel was capable.”
“Well, I guess so. What choice do I have? I’m not about to go home, now that I’ve parked the car and all.”
Mrs. Furlish glanced toward the back of the salon at Genevieve. She was giggling while snipping away at Miguel’s damp, tangled hair. Every now and then she’d lean in toward his face as if she were straining to hear him, and nibble on his ear.
“You might be right for once, Irish. I’m trusting you on this one, but next time I want my regular routine, okay?” She poked him playfully.
“You got it, sweetheart. Thanks for your understanding.” Liam smiled sincerely. “Now, have a seat. She’ll be right with you. Here,” he handed her a magazine. “We got the new People in today.”
On the cover was a glam shot of the new royals. Prince William was wearing a blue v-neck cashmere sweater over a white shirt and khaki trousers, while his new wife, Catherine, was dressed in white a knit sailor suit. Vivian Furlish flipped the pages until she found what she was looking for and settled in on one of the comfy settees to wait. Seeing that she was alright, Liam casually walked to the back of the salon and hovered politely over Genevieve, watching her every move.
“Your next client is waiting,” Liam said, nonchalantly. “I have a cut and color that just booked. I told Mrs. Furlish you’d be happy to take care of her.”
Genevieve didn’t flinch, but continued to snip and thin Miguel’s hair until satisfied with her work. Liam had to admit, Miguel’s new cut was styling. She had cut most of the length at the back and along the sides, but left it lightly feathered on top to give it a tousled look. She kept his sideburns long to accentuate his jaw line. The look was very GQ and gave him an air of sexy sophistication rather than the look of sexy boyishness he had walked in with.
“Just a quick blow job…I mean blow dry…and I’ll be done.” Genevieve and Miguel giggled like teenagers. Liam glared at her with a twinkle in his eye. He enjoyed the breath of fresh air Genevieve brought to the salon. When Liam had first opened, over eighteen years ago, it was rocking all the time. But over the years, and with staff coming and going, the vibe had mellowed – he had mellowed. This new employee was just what he and Snippets needed. It was great to see someone who could enjoy herself on the job and still accomplish great work, although he had to admit, sex on the salon floor even pushed his limits for acceptable on the job behavior. Maybe he was just jealous, but he’d have to speak with her about it.
“Alright, hurry up you two. You’ve got a lovely but rather impatient Mrs. Furlish reading about Jen Aniston’s newest date in an old People. She’s going to tire of it very soon, so let’s be ready.”
“Right, boss.” Genevieve shot Liam a look and Liam couldn’t help but laugh.
He returned to his desk. By the time Genevieve got Miguel dried and out of the chair, Mrs. Furlish was pacing around the waiting area looking at her watch. Liam pretended not to notice, eyes intent on his iPad. He was looking at the Foxy Lady website, reconsidering his fetish regardless of giving up booze. He looked up at Genevieve, taking care of his client, Vivian Furlish. She didn’t have to take her on. He had just sort of dumped her on Genevieve last minute, without asking, and Genevieve had graciously taken to the task without a word. Despite her outward appearance and ostensible flakiness, she was becoming a valuable asset to Snippets. Liam smiled to himself. Yes, he thought, she is going to work out just fine.
“Here you go, Mrs. Furlish,” Genevieve said. “Come on back to my station with me. I’ll take good care of you.” She turned to Liam.
“That’ll be forty for Miguel, hon. Do you mind taking care of that for me?”
Liam nodded. Genevieve winked and blew Miguel a goodbye kiss. Then she guided Vivian Furlish by the elbow to the back of the salon.
“My goodness, that’s an awfully mini, mini skirt you’re wearing, my dear. I didn’t know they made them that small.” Genevieve smiled to herself.
“Actually they make them smaller, Mrs. Furlish, but I can’t fit into those.”
“Well, better you than me,” Vivian replied as if on par with the lovely Genevieve. Her dentures gave her speech a slight lisp.
Genevieve helped Vivian Furlish into the chair and stepped on the hydraulic pump to raise it. She ran her polished nails through the thin, straggly and yellow-stained strands, but omitted the additional spice she had used with Miguel’s introductory assessment.
“I’m thinking a little trim might be nice today, Mrs. Furlish, as well as a wash and set. It’s getting long, and I know some very cool cuts that would take at least ten years off your age.”
Genevieve played with Vivian’s stringy locks, gently pulling, lifting and fluffing it up to create volume. “Maybe something like this,” she said to her client, cocking her head as if that would produce another image in the mirror.
“Ten years, huh? What do I have to lose, right?
Genevieve pulled Vivian’s fine hair up and let it fall down naturally. Then she cupped her hands around the bottom and puffed it up to just below her ears.
“What do you think?”
“Oh, my!” cried Mrs. Furlish in sudden disbelief. Her dentures clacked as she spoke. Her eyes were like saucers.
“It reeks of sex in here.”
Mrs. Furlish looked slyly in the mirror at Genevieve. In return, Genevieve turned beet red.
“Figuratively speaking of course, darling, I don’t mean it really smells like sex, but this place pulsates with it. You, Irish, the pictures on the wall…all sexy, sexy, sexy. And this haircut!”
Genevieve relaxed a little, and looked around. Sure enough, the framed black and white photographs of women and men bordered on erotic but the bodies in them were tastefully hidden in shadow. A few Picasso-esque paintings that hung in the waiting area of the salon were clearly of nude females. Even the furniture was sexy. A leopard chaise lounge, a couple Herman Miller chairs in pale blue and brown, and a modern light blue settee. There was a peanut-shaped teak table for magazines; all very living room comfy. Genevieve had never really looked at the salon that way, but Mrs. Furlish had a point.
“Sex on the beach. Seems to me they make a cocktail by that name,” she continued matter-of-factly. “In fact I know they do. I read it on a menu a while back at the Clay Hotel in South Beach. What do you say we call my new do sex on the beach? Irish will love it.”
“Why Mrs. Furlish! I think you’ve just become my new BFF”
...stay tuned...Chapter 4 will be posted next Tuesday, August 2nd.
...stay tuned...Chapter 4 will be posted next Tuesday, August 2nd.