The Salon was just next door to my workplace, so I booked in around lunchtime and took an extended break from the office. I arrived, was offered a cup of coffee and introduced to my hairdresser, Jimmy -who was probably about 10 years younger than me (late 20's, perhaps early 30's) with short blond hair, a number of tattoos, and a friendly, engaging smile. I thought he was French at first, but he told me later that he was from Italy. I think Jimmy had only been in Australia for less than a month, so communicating in English was a little challenging at times.
Jimmy came over to where I was sitting waiting, and asked me what I wanted done with my hair. He sat on the arm of the lounge chair, while I rambled a response. Truth be told, I have my hair cut so infrequently that I didn't have a clue what I should do with my hair. I told him that it had been 10 months since my last cut - to which Jimmy reacted in only a way a male hairdresser could - horrified then told me it was FAR too long in a very flamboyant way. I asked him if he could recommend what to do. He looked at me, paused for a moment, then suggested that I keep the length, that he'd add some layers at the back, and long layers around my face. He picked up a magazine and tried to find a photo of what he meant. I laughed after he scanned 2/3rds of the pages, before finding anything like what he meant. I agreed to the first thing he suggested, even though some of my girlfriends, who knew about my cheating husband, had told me to get something radical done given the circumstances. I had imagined that I was going to finally get my hair cut REALLY short - or perhaps a serious fringe. Either way a dramatic change.
Jimmy took me to put on the shiny black salon gown - and as he held out the gown, I was strangely flustered and couldn't work out how to put it on. He then took me to the back of the salon to have my hair washed. The young apprentice was given the job of washing my hair. As I lay in the chair with my head in the sink, I started to relax, enjoying the sensation. I was surprised when I sat up and realised it was Jimmy drying my hair. I wondered how long he had been there.
So then he took me the area where he was going to cut my hair, and asked me to sit at one chair, before switching to a different one. Thinking back, I had been kind of uneasy at that moment and not my normal confident self. I don't know why. We started talking a little. He described again what he was going to do with my hair, and said if I wanted it shorter, I had to ask now. I said, no - just do what you suggest. He said "I can do whatever I like to you?" - I said Yes - well within reason. No shaving all of my hair off!
We talked for a while. Enough to get a feel for each other, but without getting anywhere near the usual over-disclosure that happens with hairdressers. I consciously tried to slow my speech down, as English wasn't his first language (and my Italian extended merely to Bonjourno and the numbers from one to 10). Then we fell silent. I noticed he didn't use the usual alligator clips to hold hair as he cut, preferring to sweep sections over my face. I watched his fingers and arms when he was close to me. He had a tattoo with his name on his upper arm, and a cross on one of his fingers. There were other tattoos too. I recall thinking how times were changing that this classy salon would hire a man with so many tattoos. He also didn't have the usual cart full of equipment that most hairdressers have. He simply held a pair of scissors and a comb, and had two clips on his clothing (which he never used).
I sat very still in the chair, my arms resting comfortably on the arm rests, while he cut hair in sections over my head. I was surprised to feel his crotch suddenly pressing gently against my hand. It was hard to ignore, but I felt it would be rude to pull my hand away - so I left my hand there. Jimmy pressed in gently at first. Never missing a beat with cutting my hair. I decided it must have been accidental, or at least unintentional. I figured it happened occasionally. Then he moved to my left side. His penis, through his black jeans, again pressed gently into my hand. Did that really just happen? I've had men cut my hair before - including a lovely and very talented hairdresser although somewhat crazy, slightly older man who among other things told me he ironed his underpants. With him it was him always over-disclosing and given what he had told me, I'm pretty sure he was straight too - but he never let his body touch me. Jimmy was now leaning in solidly, his leg against mine, and his dick brushing my hand. It felt warm and actually really nice, despite so unconventional.
So then I started wondering how much was his natural Italian flirtatious style, and how much was deliberate. I wonder whether he had classed me as that slightly older, married, undersexed woman who he could build a repeat client base with by sexually teasing, or did he honestly find me attractive? When I had gotten to the salon, I think I had assumed he was probably gay - but the more he cut my hair, shedding layers of unhappy history, the more I sensed he was likely hetero. The next thing he did was plant is forearm directly along my sternum as he cut the layers into my long fringe. It took my breath away.
I noticed from this point on, that every moment he could find a reason, he used my body as his resting point for his arm to steady his hand while he cut. Was this something that Italian hairdressers are taught? I couldn't complain. The physical contact was welcomed, given how little physical contact I'd had since finding out my husband was having an affair. Just being touched, while being made more beautiful, felt amazing.
Then he moved around to the front again to cut, my hair was completely over my face. Again his thigh pressed against mine. This time there really was no doubting it, he was grinding his crotch against my hand. I could feel his penis in his pants and it was getting firmer. Then to the other side. The same thing. Really, was this happening? I'm sure I had started to breathe more heavily.
Then he adjusted my seat height, and pulled a chair up behind me for himself. He put his arms completely around me and told me he needed me straight. I think I apologized and asked ‘am I not?' I pulled myself back in the chair and asked if that was better. He said yes. Then got me to lean my head forward while he cut the back sections.
He slid the chair around to the side of me, and placed his arm across my breast, while his scissors grazed my jawline, making very fine and deliberate cuts while he lent in with his body. His face very close to mine. Jimmy then went and did exactly the same of the other side. I felt the cold of the scissors on my skin, and almost said to him that it was a good thing I trusted him - but I was scared to break the spell so I said nothing.
Jimmy made a few finishing touches, then walked away without saying anything. He came back after a minute or so with a hairdryer and brush. He used the hairdryer to blow the offcuts from my hair down to the floor, it felt funny so I laughed. Then it got serious. Every part of Jimmy blowdrying my hair felt like he was making love to me. He brushed sections of my hair over the brush with a sharpness initially - like he was thinking of thrusting into me. Then he would slide the brush along unravelling the hair, drying the strands with the hot air. Then again, sharp at first and controlled out. Again and again. He started at the back, and then moved around to the front.
Fuck. This time he pressed in against me, his body almost sinusoidal as he worked my hair. His crotch pressing in time with the hairbrush, each time making stronger contact with my hand. I was acutely aware of my own response at this moment. My clit was tingling, there was no mistaking the wetness. I was in a reputable salon, and I felt like I was being made love to. I don't know what my face gave away at this moment. I am short-sighted, and my glasses were in my handbag - so I barely got to make eye contact with Jimmy - or myself in the mirror.
He moved around to the left side, and repeated the performance. Each section of hair was a firmer thrust. I think he had probably doubled in size from the first time his jeans-clad dick brushed my hand.
And then he was done. He walked away again, always moving with conviction - this time if felt like he was gone for a couple of minutes. I was still breathing heavily, bewildered by what had just happened. So turned on, but fuck, I was in a hair salon, I shouldn't be feeling like this. I wasn't sure where he had gone, but figured he had probably gone to get a mirror so I could see the back of my haircut.
Jimmy came back without a mirror in his hands. Again pulled the chair up behind me, and started rubbing oil across the back of my neck, my shoulders and even my upper chest (which was exposed from my top). Every part of me tingled. He then encouraged me to tilt my head forward and ran his hands up into my hair, and back down over my shoulders. Oh I melted. It felt so sensual, so good and smelled nice too.
He then told me I was done. Did I like it? What could I say - the haircut was magnificent. Probably the best one I have had since the first cut the man who irons his underpants gave me more than 10 years ago. I was glowing - and so sexually distracted. It felt like I'd just had an hour of serious foreplay. I was soaking wet and now had to leave the salon.
Jimmy then asked how often I washed my hair. I told him the truth... every day. He couldn't believe it. Spun a full 360 degrees on the tiles. He asked why. I said, I like getting my hair wet!.. was just habit. He then walked over to the wall of products and paused a moment. ¬I figured I was meant to follow, so did.
He told me about two products. His eyes big and dark. The oil he said he had used on my skin. Explained how to use it... and how good he thought it would be for my hair. Then also a shampoo (after ascertaining with horror that I use pharmacy brand products). The oil I think I was meant to apply before and after blow-drying. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I almost NEVER blowdry my hair. And as for the instructions for how to use them - I think they went in one ear and out the other. If he'd asked me to follow him out the back - I would have at that moment and probably at least given him a blowjob or let him lick me.
I think he then asked me for a hug or a kiss. He gave me both - just a quick, very European hug and a kiss on the cheek. I think he said ‘Thank you darling' at this point and took the products to the counter - and disappeared out the back.
This salon had different staff on the front counter, and she asked me if I wanted the products (how could I say no), and how I liked my haircut. It was strange to make small-talk, as I feared everyone could tell how turned on I was. But I also felt like I was glowing. My hair felt so light, springy and lovely.
And then I left. I went back into the office... and sat stunned at my desk. I couldn't believe what had just happened. I could barely turn my mind back to my job.
This would have to be the most erotic encounter I have ever had. Was I shagged by my hairdresser (as my gay friend suggested when I confided in about what had happened - complaining that it never happens to him) ... or was this just standard Italian hairdressing style to be overtly flirty? Did he sense I needed a bit of special treatment - even though I hadn't told him of my cheating husband? Was it because I told him he could do what he liked with my hair? Please let me know if you have an opinion.
I'm fairly sure it could have been considered sexual harassment and gotten him fired - but it made me feel amazing. Desirable. And I haven't managed to get it out of my head since. Which is why I wrote this story down.
How long should I wait before I go back? It was 10 months between haircuts last time... I doubt I'll leave it that long this time. Plus I really like my new haircut. Just fabulous, though pretty much every time I see my new hair in the mirror I get a tingle down below. I've never dyed my hair, but perhaps I'll go back to the salon much sooner, and ask for some highlights or some sort of colour treatment... and of course request Jimmy if he hasn't got himself fired!
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