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Suzy rang the doorbell and glanced at her watch. 11:58AM. She was used to Professor Williams taking a while to answer the door: He was, after all, nearly 70. After a minute or so, she heard the snick of the latch and the door swung open.
“Ah! Do come in, my dear.” The professor said, stepping back slightly and gesturing with his free hand. Suzy brushed past him, making no attempt to avoid contact, even though there was ample room to do so. She liked her old professor and letting her tits graze against him was just her way of letting him know that.
“Good Morning, Professor. In the dining room as usual?” She flashed him a smile as the door clunked shut behind him.
“Indeed.” He let his gaze fall to her fingers, which were halfway down the line of poppers on her lilac uniform and working quickly. He watched as the last popper opened and, without preamble, Suzy shucked off the polycotton frock revealing her tanned and toned body, innocent of under garments except for her white stockings.
She hung her uniform on the hat stand then picked up her bag and strode naked to the dining room. As usual, one chair had been placed facing the long mirror over the sideboard. Suzy was used to mirrors. Some client’s used more than one to get value for money. She put her bag down by the sideboard and, bending from the hips, rummaged for a cape.
The professor sat in the chair, his eyes glued to Suzy’s pert posterior. He absentmindedly licked his lips as he gazed at the cleft of her buttocks and the shadowy recess where he could not quite make out her anus.
Suzy knew exactly where his attention was. People tell their barbers things that shrinks would have to spend months wheedling out of them. She stood, drawing a navy blue nylon cape from the bag. This she tied around the Professor’s neck from behind. Making eye contact with his reflection, she lightly stroked both his cheeks with her palms, noting the stubble.
“A shave too?” She asked via the mirror.
“Indeed, my dear.” The Professor nodded.
Suzy bent over her bag again for her comb, scissors and her water spray bottle.
“Do you like my stockings?” She asked as she damped his silver grey hair and ran the comb through it. Suzy made a point of always wearing stockings when she visited the Prof. He was old school and most of his more intimate memories were from the era when all ladies wore them. Today though, she was wearing sheer, white, seamed hold-ups so she didn’t need suspenders. Combined with her black patent pumps, she knew she looked sensational.
“They’re lovely. A gift from a gentleman?”
“From a lady.”
“Ahh! Of course.” The professor acted as if this was entirely natural. “And how is your…companion?”
“My lesbian lover, you mean?” Suzy knew from experience that he enjoyed her frank speech, even though he would never deign to speak so plainly. “She’s fine. This is her handiwork.” Suzy moved in front of him and patted her bare mons veneris. Until a fortnight ago, she’d made a habit of wearing her pubis quite bushy, limiting just how much her clients got to see of her but her girlfriend had persuaded her to lose the curls, saying “Show’em lips and you’ll get more tips.”
“Well that answers the ancient riddle of who shaves the barber.” The Professor looked at her crotch without any hint of furtiveness. Suzy liked that about him. The shy ones always made her laugh: Fancy paying $100 a time to not look at a naked barber.
“Not shaved, waxed.” She got on with his haircut.
“That must hurt somewhat.” The Prof observed.
“It does, but the results are really smooth. Besides…” Suzy added “Kim kissed it better…all night.” Under the cape, she could see the slight movements of his hands as he kneaded his penis. This too she was used to. Quite a few of her clientele jacked off while she cut their hair. Her policy was to ignore it.
“Such a loss to the world of men.” The Prof sighed lackadaisically.
“I’ve got nothing against men. I’m just taking a sabbatical from them. You must recall the string of boys I wore out when you were my tutor.”
“I remember.” The Prof got a faraway look in his eyes as he recalled Suzy as a student. From the first time she’d sidled out of one of his tutorials, her bottom had held a fascination for him. “I remember being quite unprofessionally envious of them.”
“You called me callipygian. I had to look it up in the library.”
“And it’s still true.”
“And it’s still the nicest way anyone’s ever found to say I have a great ass.”
The professor said nothing. He just looked to the mirror and the reflection of her truly splendid bottom.
Suzy concentrated on her work, leaving him with his thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the slow rhythm of his moving hand. She did wonder if he could actually get an erection at his age.
“Did your wife have a pretty bottom?” She asked. The professor, she knew, had been a widower for 5 years. His wife had passed away shortly before his retirement.
“It’s bahçelievler escort hard to say. I wasn’t that well acquainted with it.”
“How long were you married?” Suzy asked in incredulity.
“41 years, but I’ve seen more of you naked than I ever saw of her.”
“Indeed. I accidentally caught her sans raiment a couple of times in the early years but…”
“Suffice to say, my Betty was a fine woman but she was never comfortable with intimacy.”
“Oh you poor thing.” Suzy was genuinely sympathetic. Fancy never seeing his own wife spread naked across a bed? Poor dear. She went over to her bag for the talc and a soft brush, making an extra effort to arch her back down so as to present the most appealing view of her bottom she could contrive.
As she brushed the clippings off his neck, she noticed his hand had stopped moving under the cape. Good. Time to shave him. She packed her hair-cutting gear and took out a bowl, a jar full of sterilizing fluid with the cutthroat razor in it, a towel, a badger hair brush and a mug for the foam. When she’d started offering shaves too, she’d used canned foam but she found that the clients preferred the old brush and mug routine: Probably, she thought, for the wrist action and the way it made her tits jiggle.
“I’ll just get some hot water.” She announced, sashaying to the kitchen door. She was back in a moment, empty-handed. “It’ll need to run a bit to get hot.” She explained the sound of running water while she pulled another dining chair alongside the Professor’s. A few more moments in the kitchen and she returned with a bowl of steaming water that got placed on the second chair.
Suzy made a show of working up a lather in the mug then, straddling the old man’s lap like a table dancer and perching her firm bottom on his bony knees, she proceeded to brush the foam onto his chin and cheeks. This lap action was why her shaves had become popular and why she charged fifty bucks extra for them. She set down the mug and unfolded the razor, swilling it gently in the bowl of hot water. With steady strokes she pared away the foam and stubble until the prof’s cheeks were smooth under her fingers.
Standing, she towelled away the last traces of foam and water. “You’re done.” She announced, pulling the ribbon to untie the cape and folding it neatly. She took the shaving things into the kitchen to clean them then vacuumed up the clippings with a little Dust-buster from her bag while the professor went to the bathroom. Some of her clients made a point of watching her tidying up, enjoying seeing her down on her knees, but not the Prof. He didn’t seem interested in such submissive behaviour.
As Suzy finished repacking her bag, Professor Williams returned with her money, pressing it into her hand and letting his fingertips linger just a moment on her wrist.
“Will you stay for lunch, my dear?” This was a ritual too. He always invited her to lunch and, on those days when she didn’t have another haircut booked, she was delighted to accept.
“Why not?” She glanced at her watch. It was nearly one o’clock. “I’m not due anywhere until six. I’ll just go and put my gear back in the car.” This was, of course, her excuse for putting her uniform back on. The show was over. She put on her panties too. She hadn’t bothered for the ten minute drive from her previous appointment: she’d just stuffed them into a pocket.
“Are you still painting?” The professor asked while Suzy made herself a tuna salad for lunch. His housekeeper had left him a plate of sandwiches as usual.
“A bit. I’m doing a self portrait at the moment.”
“I’d like to see it, when you’ve finished.”
“I bet you would. It’s a copy of Courbet’s l’origine du monde.”
“Good grief! I take it you’re working from photographs.”
“But surely… you couldn’t pose for that and paint at the same time.” The professor got a puzzled look as he tried to figure out the geometry of the task.
“Video, Professor.” Suzy said, bringing her plate to the table and sitting down opposite him. “I lay in front of a video camera for an hour and taped myself. While I’m painting, I run the tape through the VCR. It’s just like working with a live model.”
“I see. Clever.”
“Thanks. I thought so too.”
“You were such a talented student: one of my best. I wonder sometimes why you…” His voice trailed off.
“Why I cut hair in the buff? Money. A fine art degree doesn’t pay the bills. My ass earned nearly eighty grand last year. My painting doesn’t even cover the cost of materials. When I told Mama I was going to study art, she paid for me to learn hairdressing at night school first. She always says good hairdressers are never out of work and she’s right.”
“So its just for the money?”
“Not just. I like my job, Professor. I like being naked in front of people. It excites me. I go home every night gagging for sex. If I could dance, I’d have tried pole dancing, balgat escort but I ain’t got rhythm so I cut hair. Besides, I meet much nicer people than I would shimmying up and down a pole in some bar.” She reached across the table and took his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze to indicate that she meant people like him.
“Well, you are certainly a good hairdresser.”
“And I’m callipygian. C’mon, Prof! You know you can get a decent haircut for ten bucks in town. You pay way over the odds because you like looking at my bottom so quit trying to talk me out of my chosen vocation.”
“Nolo Contendre” He answered. “I decline to argue the point.”
“Good. Thanks for lunch. I’d better make tracks. I have a block booking tonight: a bachelor party.” She came around the table and bent over the professor to kiss his forehead. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Bye and bye, my dear. Shall I see you in, say, two weeks?”
“Two weeks. The usual time. I’ll put it in my appointments book.”
The professor listened to her receding footsteps then the quiet click of the front door closing behind her.
Suzy spent a couple of hours at the mall, picking up some supplies from the art shop and a new pair of shoes. She had plenty of time to drop off her shopping and freshen up before heading off for her evening booking. She arrived ten minutes early and was let into the frankly ostentatious house by a grinning young man who smelled a little of bourbon.
“I’m the barber. Suzy.” She said, by way of introduction. The young man looked non-plussed.
“There’s supposed to be four of you.” She prompted, starting to wonder if she had the right address.
“That’s right.” A confident sounding voice cut in. Suzy turned towards a second guy, framed in a double doorway into what looked to be the family room. “Sorry for the confusion. I didn’t tell Ritchie you were coming. You’re meant to be a surprise.”
“Ritchie.” She looked at the smiling and slightly toasted groom while quickly taking off her uniform and holding it out to him. “Be a dear and hang this up somewhere for me.”
Ritchie took the uniform without taking his eyes off Suzy’s pert breasts. He made no move whatsoever, as Suzy slipped off her panties and tucked them into the side pocket of her hold-all. She shrugged at the entranced youth, picked up her bag and walked into the family room.
She was greeted by a wolf whistle from one of the two guys on the sofa. She flashed him her sweetest “fuck me” smile then surveyed the room for a suitable chair, which wasn’t there. “Would one of you like to fetch a dining chair or a bar stool?”
“I’ll get it.” Offered the confident guy whose voice she vaguely recognised from the telephone booking.
While she waited for him to return, she put her bag on the coffee table and started pulling stuff out of it. “I’m Suzy.” She said to break the silence.
“Charlie.” said the whistler.
“Michael.” The fourth guy almost whispered. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her crotch since she’d walked in. The quiet ones were always the worst, thought Suzy.
“I’m guessing Ritchie’s the one getting married tomorrow. Who’s the best man?”
“That’d be me.” The confident one returned carrying a bar stool and with Ritchie in tow. “Wilson Prendergast.” He announced, putting down the stool and offering her his hand. Suzy shook it. Yes, he certainly was a confident one. Not many men could manage a normal conversation with a naked woman they’d never met before. “Will this do?” Wilson nodded to the stool. “It’s adjustable. I thought that might be handy.”
“It’ll do just fine. Who’s first?”
“Ritchie, of course.” Wilson ushered the still grinning inebriate towards the stool then went over to the bar in the corner of the room. “Would you like a drink?” He asked, over his shoulder. Suzy was tying the cape tapes around Ritchie’s neck. She glanced over and caught Wilson checking her out via the mirror behind the bar. When he made eye contact she smiled warmly. “A cock — a coke would be nice.” Her deliberate Freudian slip made Michael sputter his own drink. She winked so that only Wilson could see.
“Diet?” Wilson asked, ignoring his friend’s coughing.
“No thanks. Just leave it in the bottle.”
Wilson brought her the chilled bottle and watched appreciatively as she wrapped her lips around its neck. Suzy knew all too well the phallic imagery of drinking like this: Coke had used it in their marketing for years. It was a cheap trick but to good purpose: The hornier these guys got, the bigger her tip would be. So she planned on taking every opportunity to get them hot under the collar.
“Thank you.” She put the bottle down, picked up her water spray and started to damp down Ritchie’s hair.
Wilson joined the others on the sofa to enjoy the show.
Only one pair of eyes wasn’t exclusively on her. Charlie kept glancing at a camcorder on the table next to him. His hand surreptitiously wandered toward ankara escort it every time he reached for his glass. Suzy noticed. As she picked up her scissors and comb she said “Go right ahead, Charlie. I’m not camera shy.”
Charlie snatched up the camera with unseemly haste and flipped off the lens cap.
Suzy concentrated on Ritchie’s hair, ignoring the three rather quiet men on the sofa.
“So Ritchie, Where’s the wedding?” She asked.
“St Mary’s.” Ritchie finally spoke to her.
“Are you Catholic?” Suzy knew that church was.
“My fiancée is. It’s her family’s church.”
“It’s certainly a lovely church. I went to a wedding there last year… Head down a bit. Thanks… Have you known her long? Your fiancée?”
“About 10 years.”
“High school sweethearts?”
“That’s sweet. Well I hope you’ll both be very happy together.”
“You’re welcome. Going somewhere nice for your honeymoon?”
“Hawaii. But not until the day after. We…we’re spending our first night together here.”
“Your first night… together?”
“Yes.” The sweet guy actually blushed. Suzy was gentle with him.
“Ok Ritchie… Do you mind if I give you some advice?”
“In about, say thirty hours, when your wife’s dressed like this.” Suzy moved in front of him. “Don’t just stare at her crotch.”
Ritchie, whose eyes had been unblinkingly focused on her smooth slit, snapped his head back, looking sheepish. He mumbled an apology. Suzy moved closer, letting her thighs rest against his knees as she combed and trimmed his fringe. “No need for that. Staring at me is fine. Just don’t stare at her. Kiss her instead. Its all in the kiss.”
“I-I’ll remember. Thank you.” Ritchie was target locked on her tits now.
She shook them, making them jiggle. “My girlfriend calls them Pinky and Perky.” She told him. “But I can never remember which one’s which.”
“They’re both pink and perky.” Ritchie husked.
Suzy straightened up, slipping her scissors into the band of one of her stockings and reaching for the clippers to trim Ritchie’s sideburns. The buzz of the clippers ended the conversation. She moved from side to side, trimming around his ears, half squatting in front of him to get her eyes low enough to check the symmetry then tipping his head forward to trim the nape of his neck.
Turning off the clippers, she observed “You’d have thought, if they can make vibrators quiet, they should be able to make these things quiet too.” Again, she was playing to the crowd. Let them wonder what she did with the clippers when she wasn’t cutting hair. The truth was that the rechargeable clippers worked bloody well as a vibrator and had probably spent more time pressed to her clit than they’d ever spent clipping hair.
She brushed the clippings from Ritchie’s neck and face then untied the cape, shaking the bits off onto the carpet. “Who’s next?” She asked as Ritchie stood carefully, trying to hide the tent pole in his trousers. Suzy glanced at the all too obvious bulge and pecked him on the cheek. “Save it for tomorrow night.” She whispered while her lips were still close to his face. She could feel the head of his cock against her hip. She stepped back and made way for Charlie, who was also sporting a hard-on but who, in contrast, was making no attempt to hide it. He perched on the bar stool and leered at her. Suzy flipped the cape around him and tied it on. Charlie was altogether too cocky but she had a cure for that. She took several tissues from the box in her bag, lifted the edge of the cape and handed them to Charlie, saying “Just in case.” just loud enough for everyone to hear. There was embarrassed laughter from the sofa and Charlie said absolutely nothing. He still got his money’s worth though, including the ‘tipping his head back against her breasts’ routine and the best seat in the house when she had to bend over to retrieve a ‘dropped’ comb.
When she’d finished his hair and Charlie stood up, it was clear to her that he hadn’t been too emasculated by her put-down. He even thanked her politely before swapping seats with Pete and resuming custody of the camcorder.
Pete really was a shy one and getting conversation out of him was like getting blood out of a stone but she did glean that he was the youngest, only 19, Ritchie’s brother, an usher tomorrow and going steady with one of the bride’s maids.
“You know something, Pete? You’re my first teenage client.” Suzy said. She was quiet turned on by the shy way he tried not to get caught looking at her tits and bits. “But that little beard doesn’t suit you. Will you let me shave it off?”
“Um…Ok.” Pete consented.
Suzy dug out her shaving kit and asked Wilson for some hot water. He smiled knowingly and fetched a bowlful. She lowered the stool right down and pushed the cape up to free Pete’s hands so that he could hold the plastic bowl for her. Then she straddled his lap, resting her butt on his knees so that her inner thighs pressed against Pete’s hands. She got the impression he would have pulled them away if he hadn’t been holding the bowl. The goatee was history in a couple of minutes and Suzy stood up, taking the bowl from the boy’s unresisting grip.
As he stood up too, she said “You’re not seeing your girlfriend tonight?”
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