The Cutting Edge

Before I moved to California, people told me all the time that it would be hot and humid. No one managed to convey to me exactly how unbearable it would be, so a mere four weeks into my new life with my boyfriend Jake at our southern Californian home I decided that I needed to get with the climate and part ways with my hair.

I was a girly girl from Montana, and the locks that fell to the middle of my back were dutifully brushed and conditioned and certainly one of my best assets, but I just couldn’t bear it. The sweaty neck, the sweaty scalp, the limp strands and single hairs that stuck on everything and tickled like crazy…. I couldn’t do it anymore. I searched for a cute photo of a woman with a stylish medium length pixie cut and downloaded it to my phone for reference, took myself to the city center and found an old-school beauty salon that looked inviting and not too busy.

The cute male hairdresser routed me to one of the chairs in the back because “that’s about as close as we can legally get to the air con without being accused of molestation of inanimate objects.” I plopped into and reclined in the second-to-last chair in front of the mirrored wall, and the man kick-pumped the handle at the chair’s base to lift me up a little.

“I haven’t introduced myself, how rude of me,” he said, meeting my eyes in the mirror and smiling. “I’m Alexander. Now you just sit back, relax and make me make you look smokin’ hot instead of just… overheated.”

I laughed and introduced myself as well. We made a little small talk about my life and my job, about his job and the city and his style which he described as ‘Gay men think I’m a particularly masculine lesbian, lesbians think I’m a particularly feminine gay dude, and straight people think I'm probably from outer space.’

As we talked, he put a long, dark purple hairdressing cape with a Roy Liechenstein motif on it on me and cinched it close around my neck with a little strip of crepe paper, then proceeded to wash my hair in a mobile sink unit. He made all the right, complimentary noises about how well-cared for it was and how he still could very much understand that I wanted to get rid of most of it in the current weather. It was all very nice. Alexander had a perfect hairdesser’s personality, bright green eyes, blonde hair and a great smile. He was pretty in an androgynous way. Incidentally, he also wore the same aftershave my boyfriend used.

All that, combined with the touching around my sensitive neck and prickling scalp, the noises of scissors in close proximity to my ears, and the general heat of the day - now made worse by the plastic cape that wasn’t exactly breathable - had me fighting not to squirm in my seat too much. I was getting… tingly. Down there.

As inconspicuously and casually as possible, I transferred one hand to a spot on my inner thigh, underneath my short, girly skirt. I reached out my middle finger and pressed against the gusset of my panties for a little relief. The big cape that covered me like a tent hid both me and the chair I was sitting in from view. I reasoned that if I got found out anyway, I could always act like I was just scratching a mosquito bite on my thighs or something.

Alexander and I kept the conversation going while the pad of my middle finger brushed against the white cotton and gently, almost imperceptibly, stimulated the puffy flesh underneath, coaxing some drops of wetness from it. My heart hammered a little in my chest. There was a definite thrill in sitting here and doing this in plain sight, with Alexander working on me, a couple of little old ladies under their drying hoods just a couple of feet away and the other employee of the salon tying a black lady’s endlessly long hair into corn rows sitting by the window, and none of them any the wiser. Even the fact that I couldn't touch myself like I wanted to only made it better.

“So, do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend at all, honey?” Alexander asked me. I had avoided the topic at our initial round of small talk so I wouldn't sound like one of those hysterical I-have-a-boyfriend- bitches and kill the friendly banter.

I answered an affirmative and told him about Jake who was the reason I was now living in a place where the humidity was giving me a perm, and who I was planning to marry next year. Alexander smiled brightly and congratulated me.

Then, he leaned close to my ear as he checked the lengths of hair he had cut on either side of my head, and asked in a low voice, “And is Jake a little perv like you?”

I immediately froze and asked, “Uh, what?”, missing innocent by half a mile and landing on dumb instead.

Alexander flashed a grin and cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, darling. Your secret is totally safe with me, and the others won’t have noticed.”

I stammered and blushed furiously, squirming around so I could pull my hand from between my legs and re-adjust my skirt. “Sorry, I didn’t… Oh God. This is not… I thought…”

“You thought you were so clever and low-key, yeah. Adorable. But honey, I am a very perceptive person.” He bit his lip, glanced at his colleague and the other patrons - none of them would be able to hear us over the sound of the air con and the low murmur of some local radio station playing from the ceiling speakers anyway - and then turned back to me. “Gotta admit, I'm a bit of a perv, too. Knowing that you’re playing with your nub underneath there is getting me pleasantly bothered, so don't you stop on my account.”

I gaped, then giggled, embarrassed. After a long moment of hesitation, I slid my fingers back into their place to continue my ministrations. I couldn't help it, the pull was too strong. The nub he had mentioned was now a little more prominent underneath the cotton, too. Alexander threw me a knowing smile as he worked on my hair.

There was a little bit of silence. I petted myself through my panties and felt the heat rise in gentle waves through my body. The little old ladies clucked like a couple of chickens. The other employee, a woman in her thirties, was entirely focused on the black woman’s hair, and the black woman was texting on her phone. I was certain they hadn’t noticed anything. Yet. The possibility that they could notice had me high-strung and jittery.  

Alexander met my eyes in the mirror again and licked his lips as if he knew very well what kind of effect the circumstances had on me and my libido. "Do you wanna hear a story?"

By the way he said the word 'story', I knew that it was going to be a good one. I nodded.

"Alright, I'll tell it, but only if you touch yourself properly while I'm talking." He lowered his voice another notch so that even I had to strain to hear him. "Slide your panties to the side with one hand. Touch yourself with the other. Rub your clitty, but very softly. You don't speed up and don't slow down. Just pet that little kitty ever so gently."

He moved around me on his little round, cushioned stool, momentarily shielding me from the other people's view, and billowed out the cape that hid my body from the neck down to my ankles. Hardly daring to breathe and with a face as red as a tomato, I let my thighs fall open a little farther, slid the hem of my skirt up, then hooked my left index and middle finger into the gusset of my panties to pull it to the side and touched my slick, puffy lips with my right middle finger's tip. The cape settled down again and gently draped over me. When I closed my eyes against the intense contact from my fingers and the blanket, Alexander knew that I had done his bidding.

"A year ago or so," Alexander began and resumed clipping my hair as if nothing was going on at all, "a gorgeous blonde came in here to have her hair color touched up. She might've been a Victoria's secret model or maybe an actual angel from heaven, but with a body made by the devil himself. She was sitting right in this very chair, wearing a short little skirt just like you. Her name was Lindsey."

I imagined Lindsey's lovely heart-shaped face and her perky boobs, her nipples poking through her top because of the cool air-con breeze. My imagination anticipated the next steps. Did she also fondle herself through her short skirt, like me? Did Alexander also notice and call her out? Did she give him a handjob underneath the cape, or did they both vanish into the little room over my left shoulder and behind me, partitioned from the rest of the salon by a black curtain, and Alex helped her finish with his clever,quick, talented hands? I was dying from curiosity. My middle finger went up and down, up and down with barely bearable slowness.

"I'd been working on her for about ten minutes when her man came in through the door. I say 'man', but the word didn't actually do him justice. He was a Navy SEAL who had sprung from the cover of a GQ, gone from there to Afghanistan, and now filled up all the space in this little salon. His name was John. John sat down in the chair right there," Alex pointed his chin to the next chair over on my left, the last one in the row, almost shoved directly against the back wall, "and watched us."

I pictured a tall, hunky man in camo pants, black boots and a navy issued shirt, observing a male hairdresser as he worked on his girlfriend. I could imagine the intensity. My own boyfriend could also be intense every once in a while, raising my blood pressure with a silent look that promised rough sex later on.

"He watched my every move like a hawk. And because I was feeling horny and a little crazy that day, and dear little Lindsey had definitely flirted with me before John arrived, I cranked things up a little. I wanted to rile him up. To see smoke coming from his nostrils with jealousy and anger. So I made remarks and gave Lindsey compliments with a little double entendre, and I touched her just a little more than necessary," he said and demonstrated. A swipe with a finger across the neck here, a touch to the sensitive earlobe there with the outer edge of a scissor’s blade, and leaning close and over my head as he wiped some hair from my forehead and framed my face. He smirked darkly. "The thought of making this big man's blood boil made me so hard. I made sure he saw the bulge."

I gasped. Oh fuck, that was kind of hot.

Alex narrowed his eyes. "Don't you speed up, darling." I shook my head quickly. I wouldn't dare. I needed to know what happened next more than I wanted to touch my throbbing clit and my wet gash.

"So I got the hair color ready and put the stuff into Lindsey's beautiful hair. Once it's in, it takes a quarter of an hour or so to really take, so I asked John if he also wanted a cut or a shave in the meantime. Ballsy move, I know." I could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice even though I couldn’t see him in the mirror right now as he was hidden behind my own head.

"John declined but got up anyway and asked me if he could maybe talk to me in private real quick."

I held my breath.

"So of course I said yes, and we went into that storage room back there. I remember how Lindsey watched us in the mirror, and her cheeks were so flushed and there was this... gleam in her eyes. John turned to her and said 'Together'. That's all he said. 'Together', like an order. We went into the room and he slid the curtain shut, turned to me, grabbed me by the throat with his huge, strong hand and pushed me against the wall like I was a little doll."

Oh fuck. It was like Alexander had gone through my browsing history and my naughty bookmarks. This story already had so many elements that turned me on, and now there was a guy-on-guy scene with a dominant alpha male manhandling a twink. I longed for an angry kiss to be part of the plot, but I almost knew that they would skip that part and get straight to business.

"'I don't like your sassy fucking mouth, boy', he said to me. 'Gonna see if I can put it to proper use.' Then he unhanded me. My legs were too rubbery to hold me up so I folded down until my knees were on the floor, and my head and shoulders and the soles of my feet were pressed up against the wall. He grabbed my hair with one hand, opened his belt and pants with the other, and got out his cock. Right in front of my eyes, barely a hands width in front of my face."

I huffed some air out of my nose when I really wanted to moan. I could already picture it, but Alexander continued and provided all the details.

"He had a big, long, girthy cock. It had those veins and an angry red mushroom head. There was some precum, and he took his cock in hand and rubbed it and the precum all over my face. Slapped me with it, like the guys in porn. I never understood the appeal until then. It was unreal and hot and horrible. I wanted to cry and to cum into my pants right there and then, because this big mean Navy seal was slapping my face with his hard cock. Rubbing his scent onto my cheeks and my lips and into my nose."

I couldn't take it. I had to pull my finger away. Alexander noticed right away and shot me a warning glare in the mirror. "Slow. Don't clench. Keep going."

I almost whimpered. "I can't," I hushed, and Alex retorted, "You can, darling. Take a breath and keep going."

So I did, even though it was really difficult. My clit seemed to be reaching for my fingertip, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more everything.

"So here I was, on my knees and with my back against the wall, cornered by this mountain of a man who was holding me up by the roots of my hair. He took his cock, put it against my lips and then just moved forward. Like, all of him, his whole body. He stepped into me and I couldn't turn my head and couldn't move backwards because I was already pressed against the wall, and couldn't push him away, so eventually, I had to open up. John just said "there we go" and fed his meat into my mouth.”

I bit my lip. I loved it when Jake did that to me.

“The head alone seemed to fill my mouth up entirely, but he just kept coming, kept pushing. He laughed silently when I gagged and pulled at my hair some to angle my head and mouth how he wanted it, and then he slid into my throat. His fat cock choked me. There were tears streaming down my face and snot running from my nose, and he just slapped my cheek as if to say 'attaboy' and held me there, like that, with my mouth and throat filled, gagging, bile coming up from my stomach, his balls pressing against my chin."

For some reason, the picture in front of my inner eye was hotter than any porn I had ever seen. I was feeling the sweat and my pussy's juices dripping down my ass crack. "That's so hot," I couldn't help a small giggle. This whole situation was unreal. I could see that Alex's pants were hiding a bulge. He kept going with a feverish shine in his eyes but apparently focused on trimming my hair.

"He and I both knew that he could have done anything to me. I would never have had the strength to, like, bite him or punch him in the nuts and make him stop. I think that only made it better. I know it made my cock weep into my pants.” He sat up on his stool, adjusted his pants really quickly, and sat back down.

“John’s cock pulsed and swelled up even bigger in my throat. He pulled out, let me gasp for air and spit out saliva and bile for a moment, and then he just slid back in. Slowly. He wasn’t in any hurry at all. He pumped in and out maybe ten times. He liked it when I gagged hard.”

And so did I, I heard him add in his thoughts.

“For the last thrust, he just stuffed himself down as far as possible and then came with a low grunt. I remember how his cock and balls twitched. I almost… almost wished he would pull out and let me have a taste.”

He licked the corner of his mouth as if he could imagine the flavor on his tongue.

“Oh, God.” I pulled my hands away. I was twitching, too, right on the brink, on the edge. One more sudden move and I would come all over the leather of this hairdresser’s chair. Even just the swish of my panties’ cotton over my lips was enough to make my whole body jerk once from overstimulation.

“Once he was done,” Alexander continued relentlessly, “John just put himself back into his pants and went back out, sat down in the same chair again as if nothing had happened. I eventually followed him and finished Lindsey’s dye job with spit and stuff down my shirt. I could tell by the way Lindsey was panting and all sweaty that she had been listening in on John and I, and that she’d flicked her bean to orgasm, probably the same moment she heard her man groan as he spilled into my throat. Because he had told her they would come… together.

I spread my thighs farther apart and let the arousal wash over me with my eyes closed and my lips sealed shut, without letting myself fall over the precipice. I wiped my fingers on the skin of my thighs.

Alexander also took a couple of breaths as if to fight against the urge to touch and relieve the pressure underneath his pants’ zipper, then wiped some sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and, once I risked opening my eyes again, flashed another smile at me. “Well, how did you like that story?”

“Holy shit,” I only said, and he laughed loudly enough to make the little old ladies crane their necks to see what was going on.

When I asked Alexander whether the story was really true, he just grinned and said nothing.

Within another fifteen minutes, Alexander finished my haircut. He had made it a little longer and a little more angular than Keira Knightley’s pixie to go with the shape of my face. I loved it. My head felt a whole pound lighter and so much cooler.

The heat between my legs had also cooled a little, but it was far from gone. Everything felt slick, fidgety and swollen down there. I was dreading the prospect of having to get my ass out of the seat. I was sure that I had left a puddle and that there would be a wet slurping sound when I got up from the leather. The back of my skirt was probably soaked with my pussy juice. Plus, once I got up, all the juices that were lubricating my channel would follow gravity and drip down into my already soaked underwear and then brim over and-

“You didn’t come, did you?” Alexander asked while he put the finishing touches onto my strands and seemed pleased when I shook my head ‘no’. “You know, you should send your man two photos, stat.”

I wriggled around when Alexander unclipped the robe from my neck and uncovered me. My entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat from being underneath the little plastic tarp and from getting so worked up. I made sure my skirt covered my front parts properly. “Two photos?”

“Sure!” Alexander enthused. “One of your fancy as fuck new haircut, of course.” He flicked some bits of hair off my shoulder, then leaned down to put his chin onto that shoulder and met my eyes in the mirror. “And the other one of your soaked, unsatisfied, achy little cunt.”


I hardly even knew how I made it out of that beauty salon without embarrassing myself enough for a hole to open up in the ground and swallow me up. There was indeed a wet spot on the back of my skirt but the little old ladies and the woman with the corn rows only commented on how they were also sitting in their own brine and that Alexander should crank up the air con. I somehow paid, hoping against hope that the smell of my pussy wouldn’t transfer from my fingers onto the dollar bills I handed over.

Outside, I found myself a shady little corner in a doorway and took two pictures, sending Jake first the harmless one and receiving a whole string of emojis in return.

I smiled and then sent the other with the caption ‘Do you wanna hear a story?’

A couple of moments went by, and ‘Jake is typing’ appeared on screen, then disappeared, appeared again and vanished again. I couldn’t help a laugh. My man was obviously overwhelmed.

Eventually, I got my answer. Two messages.



I smiled and slid the phone into my handbag, fishing out my car keys to head home, now. Patience might be bitter, but its fruit would be so fucking sweet.