Alexander
The bell tinkling
over the door announced his entrance into The Unique Hairtique, and Alexander
was immediately assaulted by the scents of chemicals and shampoo. Why did women put this shit on their
hair? This was why he went to a barber
shop for his trims. Clean smells were
what he was used to, not this…
“Hi! Can I help you?” He looked into the eyes of
an angel—eyes which were a deep hazel, moss green fading to an earthy brown at
the edges. She was standing at the
station nearest to the door, sweeping hair from the floor.
“Uh…yeah.” He found himself swallowing past a sudden
lump in his throat, wondering where it had come from. Alexander Gibson was never at a loss for
words, but the dark blonde hair piled into a messy bun with tendrils artfully
escaping called to him. “I need a trim.”
“I can get
you. Come have a seat.” She emptied the dustpan into a trash can and
opened a drawer on a rolling cart, whipping out a smock for him to wear. “Same style, just a little shorter,
right?” Her fingers ran through his dark
hair, sending a tremor of goose bumps up his arms. They toyed with the silvery hairs at his
temples, lightly plucking the shock of hair over his forehead. “You like this long on top? Or do you want it out of the way?”
“What do you
think?” For some reason he wanted her
opinion. She was quite a bit younger
than him, but he was fascinated by her—her lips, her eyelashes, the rosy bloom
on her cheeks. He’d always had that
shock of hair there; he didn’t particularly like his hair super-short. It was one of his best features, not that he
was vain about it, but women seemed to like to play with that particular
part.
“I think
it’s sexy,” she grinned at Alexander, and he felt a stirring under the smock at
the way her lips formed the word. He
thought she was sexy too, but he kept that to himself.
He grinned
back at her, suddenly feeling twenty years younger. “Then I’ll keep it.” He watched as she grabbed the spray bottle from
the cart to wet his hair. “Um… can I get
the works? A shampoo and everything?” He suddenly wanted to prolong this
experience. What had started as a chore
had turned into something he needed to savor.
He’d never had everything done for him at his barber shop, but the need
to feel this angel’s hands in his hair was suddenly extreme.
Her eyes
widened in surprise, but that was the only reaction to a man asking for the
pampering afforded by a place like this.
Most men he knew only let the stylist wet their hair and then cut it. She swiftly hung the spray bottle back on the
cart and smiled again. Her smile aligned
something in Alexander’s insides. This
woman was doing something to him, and he couldn’t explain it. Nor did he want her to stop.
“Sure. Follow me back here.” She turned and strode to the back of the shop
where a row of sinks waited. He watched
her backside move under the tight black capris she wore, pretending he had
ex-ray vision, ridiculously glad for the smock hiding his stiffy.
Five minutes
later, Alexander was officially in some erotic heaven he’d never experienced
before, and he’d completely forgotten why he’d come here in the first place,
only that he never wanted to leave. “…Christ…” Words could not describe the feelings of her
hands on his head, massaging his scalp, running through his hair, lathering it
up. “That feels so good.” He looked up at her to see a smirk on her
face.
“It’s the
best part of the whole hair-cutting experience.” Her smirk turned to a wicked grin, and
Alexander was helpless to stop his raging boner. He crossed his legs to hide the bulge. Instead, he focused on what he could see of
the woman hovering over him, rocking back and forth with her movements.
This was
quite possibly the most sensual thing he’d ever experienced. While she washed, his eyes crept to her
exposed cleavage and the black lace peeking from the black v-neck t-shirt she
wore. He watched the cleavage bounce—smooth
white skin, marked with a tiny mole at the top of her left breast—as she
lathered his hair vigorously. Her toned
biceps and forearms flexed with the movements, and he was powerless to do
anything besides close his eyes and relax with a groan. As soon as his eyes closed, her scent
overwhelmed him—a light floral scent, mixed with an underlying musk that
screamed female. He inhaled deeply,
desperate to cling to the images of skin sliding across skin, tangled sheets,
and sweat that suddenly invaded his mind.
The actual
haircut didn’t do anything to dampen his libido, either. Her fingers in his hair and on his neck sent
a constant tickle of electric pinpricks raining down on his skin the entire
time. Jesus, he had to have this
woman. All he could think about was
having those perfect breasts in his mouth, stimulating her nipples into erect
buds, hearing her groan, seeing those pink lips in the perfectly formed ‘o’ of
pure coming undone-ness.
She
interrupted him with idle hairdresser chatter, reminding him of why he had come
here. It was almost like an ice
bath. Almost.
“So, what’s
your name?”
“Alexander.”
“What do you
do, Alexander?” She tasted his name with
the question, and the vague smile on her
face told him she liked the way it
rolled off her tongue. He did too.
“I’m a lawyer
downtown.” The shutter over her eyes
told him what she thought about lawyers, and he honestly didn’t blame her. He knew exactly why she felt the way she did,
and a pang of regret stifled the hard-on in his pants.
“Oh.” Her eyes fell back to her work, and she seemed
to work faster, trying to get him finished.
“If it makes
you feel any better, I don’t like myself, either, sometimes.” Especially
right now. When the paperwork had
come across his desk, Alexander had been all for suing the salon. Mrs. Frizzel had suffered due to their
negligence. Since Mr. Bowers had his
heart attack and had to cut back his work load, Alexander had been re-assigned
the case at the last minute.
He’d come in
here for evidence against the owner of this place, not to want to bang the
stylists. But his thoughts were consumed
with nothing else. Especially when she
smiled, which she was doing right now.
Changing the
subject, she murmured, “Nice hairline.
You’re lucky to have a full head.”
The words left unspoken woke him up from his erotic daydreams. …for a
man your age. What the hell was he
even thinking, having physical reactions like this to a woman her age? He had a job to do here, and he needed to get
his head straight.
Feeling the
need to fill the suddenly awkward silence, he offered, “How old do I look?” His mouth obviously hadn’t gotten the memo,
as he heard the flirtatious tone of his voice.
She did this
cute thing with her mouth—pulling it over to the side of her face—while she
swept her gaze carefully up and down his body.
He threw on his most boyish grin as her mossy green eyes scanned him.
“Thirty-six.” He didn’t say anything, and she went back to
snipping at his hair. “Am I even close?”
“Forty-one.”
She was behind him, her eyes locked on the back of his head. He couldn’t read her expression well, but he
thought he heard an intake of air. “How
old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
Fuck.
He was old enough to be her father.
But the tingles persisted even though he now knew she was officially way
too young for him. His brain may know
the difference, but his body didn’t give a shit.
“What do
twenty-three-year-olds do for fun these days?”
Way to make himself sound like a
fucking geezer. If she didn’t have a
pair of scissors snipping above his ear, he would have shaken his head at his
idiocy.
She
shrugged, putting away the scissors and getting the clippers. “Work.
Same I imagine you did.” Her eyes
were square on him, and he was pretty sure he saw intrigue.
“And Girls’
Night Out!” For the first time, Alexander
noticed there were other women in the shop.
Three other sets of eyes were watching intently from other stations in
the room, twinkling with merriment. So
they’d seen he was totally interested.
Who wouldn’t be? She probably got
hit on by male customers all day long.
One of the
women was about his age, maybe a little younger, with long blonde hair and blue
eyes. She was heavily made up and
wearing ridiculously high heels for someone on their feet all day. Although right now she was lounging in her
station chair, waiting for a customer.
Another girl
was much younger with black hair and also blue eyes. She had a wreath of roses tattooed around her
bicep and wore jeans and Chuck Taylors.
She was smirking at them.
The last
woman was downright matronly, and looked like she’d probably been working with
hair forever. Her own hair was cut well,
but was a wholly unnatural shade of orange, matching her eyebrows.
The
orange-haired lady spoke up, “These girls all go out every Thursday. I think that’s Taylor’s only source of
fun. All she really does is work and
read. She ain’t lyin’ about that.”
“Yeah?” Alexander smirked. “Where do you girls go for your night out?” His eyes met Taylor’s in the mirror, but she
had that thoughtful look on her face, with her mouth squinched over to the side
again. She didn’t want to tell him? Maybe he’d mis-read her. Maybe she wasn’t interested.
Boyfriend?
Thank God
her friends were less thoughtful. “That
club over on the Frontage Road off I-20, The Orb,” answered the blonde,
eyeballing him. He thought maybe she
winked but wasn’t sure. It could have
been a twitch.
“I haven’t
been there, is it fun?” Alexander didn’t
go to dance clubs. He went to bars where
there was dancing and live music. There
was a huge difference, in his mind.
From the
women’s animated conversation, he gleaned the one cutting his hair, Taylor, the
older woman called her, was going home to eat and change after work, before
meeting them there. A plan formed in his
mind. A plan so ridiculously stupid he
forgot all about the name on his documents at his office stating Taylor as the partial
owner of the business he was suing.
Thanks for reading the first chapter of The Best Laid Plans of Boys and Men, by Anne Conley. It's available on Amazon, free for KU members, so grab your copy at Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk
