SALON SISTERS

My friend was getting married on the twenty-eighth of December, and I needed to give myself some beauty treatment in preparation for the event. So I went to this beauty shop I like to frequent to get it done. The salon is my favourite for one reason: Joy. She is one of the attendants and I really like her. As someone who has sensitive sense of smell, I often appreciate the fact that she has a wonderful breath, has no body odour and always smells really good, something that is very important in circumstances when you have to get crowded by the person who’s fixing your lashes or nails.

When I got to Joy’s spot, it was to find her busy with another customer. She flashed a smile at me and told me that she’d be done in ten minutes. So, I sat down to wait. The establishment has become so aware of my attachment to Joy that sometimes, if the owner of the salon were around, she would instruct some other person who was free to take over whatever Joy was doing so she could attend to me.

“Don’t worry, Joy will soon come and take care of you,” she would say to me with an indulgent smile.

But she wasn’t around that day, and so, I had to wait.

As I waited, another girl came into the shop and as though she too liked Joy’s service, came to the corner where I was and sat down to wait with me. I didn’t pay much attention to her; besides, some girls can act funny when they think you’re checking them out.

After some time, it was my turn. Immediately Joy began carving my brow, I inhaled her delicious scents, my eyes fluttering shut as I savoured her fragrance. I do this every time she attends to me; her scent is part of her appeal to me. As I closed my eyes, I heard her chuckle, as though to say, “This girl, you have come again.”

After she was done working on my brows, she started fixing my lashes. As she worked, I was, in my mind, doing all sorts of nasty things with and to Joy. The heat of her body enveloping me and the brush of her body against mine stirred me very much, fuelling my fantasies.

Fixing my lashes didn’t take long, and when she was done, I didn’t bother with checking myself out in the mirror. I simply asked her, “Do you like it?”

She laughed softly at that and said, “Yes.”

And that was it for me: her “Yes” is my “Yes”.

When we got to the fixing of my nails, with Joy no longer crowding me, I noticed that the other girl, who’d come to wait with me for her, was intensely looking at me. It was as though she had been watching me throughout Joy’s ministrations and knew exactly what I’d been up to, like she was the voyeur to the “sex” Joy and I were having. I gave her a “What is your own?” look and she shrugged her shoulders in a response that said “Nothing.”

Joy had finished with my left hand and had moved to the right, and she was filing my index finger when I went back to my fantasies, imagining myself fingering her. When I realized how close I was to manifesting what I was imagining by moving my finger back and forth in Joy’s hand, I caught myself and then smiled. From the corner of my eyes, I caught the waiting girl shaking her head at me in disapproval. And I mouthed a “Fuck off” at her before refocusing on Joy.

When she was finally done with me and I looked into the mirror, I was glad – as I always was whenever I came here – that I chose Joy. Customers aren’t allowed to tip the workers, if not, I’d have been very generous with my tips. Instead, I thanked her and then went over to the counter close to the door to make my payment.

My next destination was to find someplace to eat. I was hungry. I was walking to the road to hail a cab when I heard someone call out, “Hello, hello!”

I turned. It was the waiting girl in the salon. I thought I’d forgotten something in the shop and felt my bag for my phone. It was there. So why was she after me?

“Are you going far?” she asked when she came up to me.

Shrugging, I said, “Just to find somewhere to eat. Why?”

“I was hoping we can talk. I am hungry too. But I really won’t be long, just to change my nail polish.” She pointed across the road. “There’s a Domino Pizza. You could go there to order and I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”

Feeling befuddled, I said okay. As she went back to the salon, I crossed the road to Domino. It was a bit crowded, and about fifteen minutes later, before I’d even been able to place an order, she was back by my side in the pizzeria.

This time, I finally gave her a much closer look. She wasn’t really my spec; I love them busty, but she was pretty and tall.

We decided to share the responsibility of our meal. She stayed in the pizza section while I moved over to the Coldstone section to get is ice cream. After about thirty five minutes, we had our orders and were getting seated close to the window. I was starving and dove right into eating. After about five bites, I was finally ready to talk to her, and I started with, “So, do you like the pizza?”

She smiled. “Yes, I do. I’m Stephanie, by the way.”

I told her my name, and we soon began chatting as we ate.

We bonded really fast. For some reason, the fact that we were “sisters in the service of Joy” made me really comfortable with her, as she was with me. Stephanie turned out to be bisexual. She likes me. I like her. We aren’t dating of course, because I have a girlfriend who is out of the country and she has a boyfriend. But for now, we just hang out, hug and fool around.

You just never know though, who the person next to you is truly. Heterosexual people like to think that the world belongs to them. They like to see themselves in everybody they encounter. But you never know if that person who you’ve exchanged glances with at the supermarket, the person whose body you’ve brushed up against in the bank queue, the person who sat waiting their turn after you at the salon – they very well could be just one conversation away from letting you know that they are just like you.

Written by Deviant