"They probably just want a four way." Jennifer said and I tried not to look at her or react in any way. "So, when are your brothers friends planning to come from Germany for a visit?"
"I don't believe they will, he'll go there to visit them. They wouldn't like the US in any event... I think if they came here they'd be crying to go home after three or four days."
She stood behind me and pressed her braless tits against my shoulder while combing some of the hair upwards and trimming it back with scissors. "Why wouldn't they like it here?"
"Traffic for a big reason. They are fussy and nervous women, I knew them before my brother did and it was because of me that they met. But, they are very nervous in traffic and the sheer volume of traffic in this area would have them frantic within days, even as passengers."
She stepped around to the side and continued combing up and trimming hair as we talked. Leaning close so her voice wouldn't carry to the other seats she said very low, "You know, I've never been in a foursome before, nor a three-way for that matter." She smiled and stood then, pushing her crotch against my elbow, where it rested on the arm of the barber chair, through the barber sheet.
I was a little in shock today over the way she was carrying on. Thinking she must either be having another fight with her husband, or he wasn't paying the proper attention to her - again. She always seemed more blatantly flirty when frustrated, but had never made an outright pass like she seemed to few minutes ago, nor pushed the conversations into the areas she was steering this one.
"You know, I'll bet I could find a few volunteers for you if you're really interested," I said softly as she worked.
"I'll bet you just could, but I wouldn't be interested in just anyone," and she emphasized her comment with a slight movement of her hips, she was still in contact with my elbow.
She stepped to the front then and turned to check her work, bending slightly more than normal and giving me a nice view down her blouse - her freckled breasts swinging slightly as she moved her head and body this way and that in examination. I made an obvious point of enjoying the view and her smile widened as she straightened, turning her back to choose her next tools from the rack. Knowingly or not she was now presenting me with a view I always enjoyed during my haircuts. Narrow waisted, with a high butt, she always wore skin tight jeans that were designed to separate and then lift the cheeks of her ass, the half inch center seam riding well within the valley between the moons. The leggings molding to the shape of her thighs and most of her calves as she moved.
For the umpteenth time since I'd started coming to her for my haircuts I wondered if she had to oil herself in the mornings to get into those britches. They pegged out just above delicate looking bare ankles which in turn disappeared into sneaker socks and designer tennis shoes with a two inch heel lift. The eight gold bangle bracelets on her wrist tinked together as she placed the small scissors into the drawer and switched combs with another from the jar of blue goop that always inhabited a barbers tool shelf. She dropped the comb and bent at the waist to retrieve it, moving somewhat slowly and giving me the impression it was intentional. As I watched a very definite set of 'camel toes' form around the center seam of her Calvin Kleins, she looked back at me around the edge of her leg and smiled, confirming my suspicion.
I can't say I was much impressed by her current hair style, which changed as often as she changed the color of her hair. She was still brown haired this time, though a slightly lighter brown than a few weeks ago, but it was the cut and style that bothered me a bit as it was now jaw length with an outward flip. She looked like that Dutch Boy I used to see on all of those paint commercials, or the drawings of the boy sticking his finger in the dike in those books from childhood. All she was missing was the right clothing and wooden shoes.
Rising, she retrieved another pair of scissors from the drawer and new comb before stepping once more behind me. Using her finger tips she guided my head forward and into the position she wanted for trimming the hair on the back of my head. Before she released me she scratched lightly at my scalp with her nails, commenting again about my birth mark and how much she enjoyed the blonde streak of hair within the darker brown. She had gotten into the habit of trimming the hair carefully around it and leaving it longer so it was more pronounced. and I allowed it, never commenting about her habit as long as she kept it trimmed above my collar. I never saw it anyway, since it was on the back of my head, never giving it a thought unless someone commented on it.
"Well, I still think they are coming here so they can have a foursome."
"If so Jennifer, I doubt they will want to include me. I was engaged to one of them for a couple of years and neither care much for me since."
"You and your brother have the most amazing stories of things in your life. They are so much more interesting than anyone else's. Have you ever been in a foursome?"
"Just after I left High School, back before you were born, I shared an apartment with eight other people for a while. It was a flop house really, sometimes having up to fifteen people sleeping in the same room, but get a good party going and some of the nights could get very interesting. At seventeen, on most nights, I usually slept sandwiched between two women, one twenty-two and the other thirty."
"You've both done so much more than other people who come in here."
"Not really. You're what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? I'm right at twice your age, which gives me a lot more time to have experienced things, but I've not really experienced or done things much different than so many others have. You just haven't asked them the same questions you've asked me, have you?"
"No, probably not. You just seem so much more relaxed about things than most, I don't have any worries about saying something that may offend you. I don't think I could." She pressed her left breast tightly into my arm as she leaned to look at my eyebrows. "Shall I trim your eyebrows for you? They're getting a little wild again."
"If they need it, yes. It will keep them from hanging into my vision and bothering me." She returned the scissors to the drawer and took up a small pair of electric clippers. Turning to me she stepped up to my legs, resting her thighs against my knees and pressing tightly. Using a fine comb she raised the longer hairs and ran the clippers over the comb, trimming them back. That was one of the drawbacks of getting older, about half the hairs in my eyebrows grew wild and needed constant trimming.
She must really be in frustration mode right now if she was initiating so much direct body contact. Normally we flirted back and forth as we talked about whatever topic she brought up, but she was usually careful about things and had never done more than lightly brush against me here and there, while working. Today, she was really pushing the limits and warping the hell out of that imaginary line we never crossed in our dealings with one another. She began moving around me, giving my hair the light feathering I like so it wasn't over bulked and wouldn't stick out oddly in places, running her fingers into my hair at the sides, examining the length as she used the opportunity to stroke my ears and the edge of my jawline with her finger tips.
Much more of this and I might embarrass myself when I stood up. "Careful," I said softly.
Equally as softly she replied, "You know what they say, if there is something you want, or want to accomplish, you need to go after it. I believe that. So many people are satisfied to wait for things to come to them and it often doesn't, so if I want it, I go after it. I find it much more productive and satisfying for me if I do. "
Stepping around in front of me she stepped back and looked closely at me. "Turn your head to the right." She looked closely at the hair on the left side of my head. "Now to the left." An equally close look at the right side of my head. "Now look directly at me." I looked directly into her eyes as she tipped her head and upper body this way and that, studying her work before her eyes finally met mine. Her lips were slightly parted and she allowed the tip of tongue to appear, just a tiny bit, and trace the inside of her upper lips, the look in her eyes seemed to be saying, 'You have only to ask.'
I let it slide. I was very flattered that I might still be attractive to someone half my age, and I was very tempted to find out how serious she was, but she was not the only hairdresser in the place today. The shop was shared by four women, two of the others were present and tending to their female customers, Jennifer was the only one who cut men's hair. I had learned many years before that I had a very distinctive voice, low and rumbling in character it carried very well, even at lower tones and 'always' if I didn't want it to. I did not wish to cause problems for either of us, so I remained quiet.
Turning her back and retrieving a large hand mirror she stepped behind me to show a reflection of my new haircut. I was satisfied with it and told her so.
.... There is more of this story ...