Chapter 1

My name is Mark. I've just turned 77 and the decision to retire is a bit easier now than it would've been earlier. My eyesight and steady hands are slowly slipping away. Only now do I feel comfortable relating the story of my unique career and how it evolved.

My last clients have now moved on to someone I trained. Hopefully, all my former clients will appreciate and also forgive my relating this short account of our experiences together. I've changed everyone's names. Only if you remember the event as I describe it, would you know your part in my narrative. If you do recognize yourself and remember the event with less enthusiasm than I convey, please forgive me. As I promised, your privacy is critically important to me and I'll never compromise it.

I was a barber. Like many guys who returned from war, I had to learn new skills. There wasn't much opportunity for a sniper in Los Angeles in the 1950's.

My older brother David owned a one-man barbershop not far from Hollywood. He was an excellent barber and built a solid business. No matter if you were a regular man off the street or a major studio star, he gave everyone a great haircut. Today it'd be called a "styling" I suppose, except the styles were much shorter then.

For men in those days, a close shave was as important as a haircut. The combination of oils, heat, shaving foam, facial massage and the sharpness of a straight razor in skilled hands resulted in a shave that was much closer and lasted far longer than anything they could do at home.

David was proud of me and my military service and enjoyed relating the war stories I lived to his many customers. These stories grew both in scope and drama over the years, of course.

1956


My career began.

"Hey David, how's it going?" I asked when entering my brother's shop.

"Hey Mark. Going good, I suppose." He only glanced my way for a second before returning to his work.

There were three men sitting along the wall to the left, absorbed in conversation, waiting their turn in the chair.

"Mark! We've been hearing about you and your experiences in Korea," one of them said.

I grinned and responded, "Believe me, with David's help, the stories are improving every day."

Laughter filled the shop.

"He does have a way of making every story better," one replied.

Another asked, "Have you found a job yet?"

"Not yet. There're lots of guys looking."

David said, "Mark, I've been thinking about bringing on a trainee to help out around here. You ever think about being a barber?"

I heard a snicker from somewhere along the left wall.

"You've never indicated a willingness to take on an employee. Why now?" I asked.

"Yeah, I know. But the business is growing and I've three to five guys waiting all the time. I just don't like to hold these guys up like that."

From the left wall again, "David, you expect Mark to go from killing guys in war to using sharp instruments on them here? Uh, I don't know about that."
They laughed.

"Exactly, Steve. Do you realize the nerves, steady hand and patience this guy has? That's exactly what a skilled barber needs. Besides, you guys know as well as I do that I need to get off my feet and rest occasionally. With several of you sitting here all the time waiting for me, I can't stop at all during the day. I've been thinking for a good while about training someone. Believe me, it'd be best for all of us."

I replied, "Okay David. When do we begin? At least I can help you and make a little money."
I didn't realize the impact of that decision on my life for several years.

1961

David died. A drunk driver completely ignored a four-way stop sign and broadsided his car at high speed. Killed instantly, according to the doctor, so at least he didn't suffer. But we did.

Many of his customers and their wives came to the funeral. They all stopped to visit with David's wife Wendy and their two children. Some also came to my parents' house ... visiting, telling funny stories from his shop and how much they appreciated David. They also asked what we needed or how they could help. Their big hugs and quiet words of encouragement meant the world to us. Tragic deaths like this were all too common before seat belts; so we, unfortunately, had a lot of practice in consoling families.

I re-opened the shop for business the following week. Even though I wasn't as good at cutting hair as David, most of the regulars came anyway. My ability to give a very close shave was what really saved me, and eventually my career.

However, the Gillette Company introduction of adjustable razors in the late 1950's was the beginning of the end for barbershop shaves ... at least the kind men needed. It was only a matter of time before my limited skills at cutting hair combined with the lower demand for close shaves. The business that David built slowly died as more and more men found better barbers and no longer needed shaves from me.

Late one afternoon, as I was thinking about closing the shop early, a lady walked in with a gentleman following her. Ladies rarely came to this shop unless they were trying to raise money for some cause and wanted my contribution. This lady didn't look like she needed to raise money. She had raven hair, styled into a bouffant with flicked up ends that just touched her shoulders. She was tall, 5'8" or so, and was beautiful. Her makeup looked like it was done in one of the studios and she carried herself with confidence. I thought to myself that she had that Jackie Kennedy type of style. As she walked toward me, the rapid click of her high heels on the tile floor indicated that she was on a mission.

"Are you Mark?"

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"My name is Shelley." She offered me her hand. It was delicate, soft and strong all at the same time. This was an unusual lady ... no wimp for sure.

"I'd like to have a private conversation with you."

"Yes ma'am."

She looked straight into my eyes and had my full attention. What could a lady of her obvious sophistication need to discuss with me?

Shelley didn't introduce the man, which I thought was a little odd. Since he didn't approach or offer his hand, I soon realized that he was her bodyguard. I was intrigued. I'd seen bodyguards with major screen stars and occasionally with some of David's very wealthy customers. They were always in the background and hardly ever came into the shop.

She turned toward him. "Jim, please wait outside. It'll be just a few minutes." She turned to me as he left. Her hazel eyes were captivating.

"Mark, I've something very personal and somewhat embarrassing that I want to ask you."

"Yes?"

"My friend has been here several times and the shaves you give him are the very best I've seen. His beard doesn't grow back for a couple of days and I can't feel any stubble, which is amazing. Would you consider shaving me?"

I stared at her, totally befuddled.

"Shave your legs?"



"No. My genital area." 



That surprised me. I never saw it coming. No lady talked about shaving her genital area, at least not in the 1960's.

"Shelley, I've no experience with that. Sure, I shave guys' faces every day but for areas like you mention, I always thought you used hot wax or some other method of controlling hair growth."

"I know, Mark, but that is very painful and I thought that the shave like you do would be much better for short term purposes. I realize that I'm asking you for a personal favor that goes far beyond normal. I understand completely if you refuse. However, I can't do it myself as well as you could and I don't trust anyone else to do it. I'd like to surprise my boyfriend on his 30th birthday next week."

I hesitated for what seemed like a minute but was probably only a few seconds. "Shelley, I'm willing to try if you're sure about this." What I actually thought was that I needed the work. It had really been slow in the shop; but I also wanted to see this gorgeous woman's pussy. Looking back now, it was probably one of the easiest decisions I ever made.

She responded, "Let's try it one time and see. From what my boyfriend says, you're an expert with a razor. But Mark, I need you to promise that you'll not tell anyone that I was here. As you know, word gets around this town overnight so don't ever betray my privacy."

"Yes, I know, and you can trust me completely. When would you like to do this? More importantly, where would you like me to do it ... your home or somewhere else?"

"His birthday party is Friday evening. Sixty people are coming and the decorators will be working at the house next week. So I'd like to come here on Thursday night about 8:00 pm."

"Here?" I asked.

"Yes, maybe you can set up a table or something behind a privacy curtain."

I glanced around the shop and immediately started problem solving for how I'd do that.

"Of course, let me put some thought to this and I'll be ready for you."

I watched as she departed. She looked as marvelous from the back as from the front. Shelley was one knockout lady, even in a town full of them.

A hundred thoughts at a time raced through my mind. What the hell did I just agree to do? How do I go about it? I don't know any man who has ever tried to shave a woman's pussy. What happens if I nick her? Can I use my regular face oil on her sensitive areas? What about the foam and creams I always massage into a guy's face? How can I apply them to genital hair without massaging them in? Will she slap the shit out of me when I even try? Oh man, this was scary.

My brain worked overtime for the next few days. Although I had a number of the regular customers in, my mind was focused on the task coming up. Obviously, I needed to find a comfortable table she could lie on and a strong light source so I can see all the details of her skin. Any little bump or blemish could end up as a cut.

I also needed to do some anatomy research. Although I'd explored several of them in the dark, not even my Playboys showed a woman's genitals. I went to the library and, fortunately, found a medical book that showed the details. I then became very concerned.

With men, I push up or down on their cheeks, jaws or chin to stretch and smooth out the skin for the razor. That's the only way I know to avoid nicks and allow maximum closeness. With a woman's pussy, what do I hold? What do I stretch? How will my straight razor fit around the sensitive folds and crevices? How do I shave those tiny hairs between the outer and inner lips? This was too much to think about, especially since I suffered from hard-ons every time I thought about the details. Why did I ever agree to this?

Thursday evening came too quickly. Shelley was fifteen minutes late but I expected that. A lady like her can be as late as she wants.

She was cheerful as I opened the door. "Hi Mark, sorry I'm running a little late. I appreciate you staying a couple of hours past your closing to help me."

"Hi Shelley, no problem. I've been giving a lot of thought to this and think I'm ready when you are." I directed her to the curtained privacy area I'd created at the far end of the shop.

"Could I suggest that you slip off your dress and put on this gown? I'll lock the front door unless your associate would like to wait inside."



"You can lock it. He's waiting in the car and knows it may take a while. He's just hired security to make sure nothing happens to me. I'm not at all worried about you." She smiled.

"Good, just step into the restroom if you'd like to change. I'm just about ready to go."



"Mark, you're about to shave the most private parts of my body. Why should I bother to change in another room or wear a gown?" Her smile was enchanting and I felt like a fool. Somehow, that logic had completely escaped me.

"Of course, you're right. I'm sorry."

"I appreciate you thinking of me but we're going well beyond my normal modesty limits."

We both laughed.

She unzipped the dress, unhooked the fastener behind her neck and slipped out of it in just a few seconds. I think that once she committed to this, her mind went into a professional mode much like it would if she were going to a gynecologist. Since I'm only a simple barber, this was a major event for me.

She hung the dress on a hanger I provided and I took it to the coat rack. I was expecting to see nylons and a garter belt but she was only wearing panties. Her legs really were as tan as they looked and she had an amazing body ... as voluptuous as any I'd seen.

Her bra was exquisite. It was mostly lace, and it covered and supported very full breasts. I'm not an expert on breast size but they would certainly be more than a handful. Her cleavage was what men like me dream about. Shelley's lacy panties matched the bra. She slipped them off with little fanfare and put them in her purse. Unbelievable beauty! Her body showed no obvious fat but she was certainly not skinny. She had to be in her early to mid-30's but time had been very good to her. Everything was firm and fit.

My body was starting to react so I hurriedly asked her to climb onto the table and lie flat on her back. I didn't want Shelley to see her effect on me.

I'd purchased a very soft pad and white sheets to make the hard table as comfortable as I could. But I didn't want to use any sort of restraint like a stirrup to support her legs as that is always very uncomfortable to a woman, or so I'd heard and read. The plan was that she would open her legs to give me access as needed on each side. If she became concerned, her legs would not be restrained and she could close them quickly.

"Shelley, let me go through the process I'm planning to use and see if you have any better ideas. The first thing is that I need to turn on a lamp that is on the stand over there. It will give me the proper light I need to protect your safety and avoid any nicks. As you can see, the standard lighting in here isn't good, especially at night.

"Next, I'm going to remove the largest part of your hair with these electric clippers. I'll be very careful to not let it touch your skin. After that, I'll use a hot moist towel applied directly to your genital area to soften the remaining hair. If it is too hot for you, please let me know and I can remove it quickly. It'll be at the same temperature as the towels I use when shaving a man's face but I don't know how sensitive you are to heat. I'm going to be very careful to assure your comfort."

Shelly responded, "That sounds fine. I've used hot towels before and it shouldn't be a problem."

"The next step is what I need to discuss. Normally, with a man's shave, I'd apply some warm oil and then a shaving cream and massage it into the skin with my hands. Since this is my first time at this, what are you comfortable allowing me to do? Do you want to massage the oil and cream into the hairs or can I do it?"

"Mark, I'm laying here with my genitals fully on display to you. I know you're a professional and won't take advantage of me. Please do what you need to do and let's get going."