Stopping alongside her, he reached out to the neck of her gown. A quick pull, and a tear appeared. Sliding his fingers into the gap, he pulled again. The tear lengthened down the front. With a suddenness that made Lydia jump, he tore the gown open all the way down and spread it wide.
Lydia was completely naked, but the lump in her throat wasn’t shame. She watched Ricki slowly pace around the chair again, thoroughly examining her whole body. When his gaze lingered on her breasts, she felt her nipples harden. It made him smile again. He turned and inspected the shelves and cupboards. “I’m sure I can find something a little more… stimulating.”
“No!” Lydia gasped. At once Ricki turned and pulled her gown back together, then started to undo the straps on her arms. The fun – ordeal – session was over. “No!” she said again. Louder.
Ricki raised an eyebrow. “‘No, stop’, or ‘No, don’t stop’?”
She felt herself flushing beetroot red. “Don’t stop,” she mumbled.
Grinning, Ricki slowly refastened the straps and flicked her gown open again, then went over to the sink and washed his hands thoroughly. From around his neck he produced a key on a chain, which he used to unlock one of the cupboards. “This is reserved for my most important VIPs.”
He opened the doors wide. Lydia’s jaw dropped and her mouth went even drier, if that was possible. The cupboard was fitted out with sex toys of all shapes and descriptions. And sizes.
Ricki made a show of debating with himself. He glanced casually over his shoulder at Lydia’s exposed sex, then back at the toys. “A simple dildo, or something with more of a buzz? And a butt-plug of course. You enjoyed that, didn’t you? How about a double dildo? Something inside both holes at once? And a bullet vibrator for your clit so I can watch you coming around the dildo.”
Lydia was paralysed with… what? Fear of what he might do? Or fear that he wouldn’t? Wide-eyed she watched him take down the U-shaped dildo and cover both ends with condoms, then slather it with lubricant. Moving back between her legs, he nuzzled it against her most private entrances.
Ricki stared her in the eye for heart-stopping seconds, then slowly smirked. “Maybe not today. Next time, perhaps.” He put the dildo in the sink, then closed and locked the cupboard. Going over to the shelves, he selected a jar instead. He waggled his bare fingers at her. “Now for the personal touch.”
Back alongside Lydia, he scooped up some of the new cream and dabbed it gently on Lydia’s right nipple, then began to smooth it over her whole breast. This cream felt cool at first, then warmed until it tingled on her skin. Lydia’s eyes closed as his Ricki’s hands and fingers roamed her breast, squeezing and kneading it gently. He drew circles around her nipple. When she felt his fingers close on it, she whimpered in her throat. Every pinch, every flick, sent a pulse of pleasure from her breast to her lap. If her arms hadn’t been bound, she’d be rubbing herself furiously.
Ricki sauntered around the other side of the chair and dropped the remainder of the cream onto Lydia’s other nipple. The sweet torture resumed. She moaned and twisted on the chair, desperate for release. She was at Ricki’s mercy. He could tease her all day if he chose. She couldn’t stop him.
Of course you could. But you don’t want to stop him, do you? It’s not just the pleasure, it’s the surrender. Surrendering your body. Surrendering control of your body. He can see all of it. He can see the effect he’s having on it. You like that, don’t you? You spend all week being the boss, making the decisions, ordering people around. Being in control. Once in a while it’s nice to be on the receiving end, isn’t it? Just for a few hours. So long as you can close the door on it afterwards.
Moving behind her head, Ricki reached down and ran his hands over both Lydia’s breasts together. The pleasure was a constant current connecting her nipples to her clitoris. “I do prefer skin on skin, don’t you?” he purred. “It’s so much more intimate than gloves. That’s why condoms are such a nuisance. I much prefer to have sex without one. We can feel each other so much better. Shall we do a comparison? Shall I slide into you wearing a condom, and then without? Skin against skin?”
Lydia began to panic. Not because she was afraid that he’d really do it, but because part of her desperately wanted him to do it. She wanted him to take her.
No! I love Marcus. I’m married to him. Anything goes in fantasies, but not in real life. I don’t cheat on anyone, least of all Marcus. No-one gets to fuck me but him.
Ricki must have sensed her real anguish. “Don’t worry. I don’t get my kicks from screwing anyone – man or woman – unless they’re completely willing and able. But how about the other end?”
Confused, Lydia stopped wriggling and looked up at him. She felt him fiddle with the chair behind her head, then suddenly the headrest wasn’t there. Her head tipped far back and she found herself staring upside down at the bulge in his chinos. Now she realised what he meant. Ricki confirmed it by slowly pulling down his zip and moving closer until he was almost brushing against her face.
He’s going to do it. He’s going to slide himself into my mouth. Does he really expect me to let him do that? To use my mouth like- like a sex toy? I won’t.
Her lips parted.
After a breathless pause, Ricki chuckled and stepped back. Gently lifting up Lydia’s head he slipped the headrest back in place and then went around the chair, undoing the straps. Finally he manoeuvred the chair into its upright position. Ricki the professional hairdresser was back.
Lydia felt shattered, physically and emotionally. Arousal still bubbled inside her, adding to her mental maelstrom. She had a lot of uncomfortable questions to ask herself. And to answer.
I would have done it. I would have let him come in my mouth. I don’t let Marcus do that. Do I want sex more than I want Marcus? Do I want to be unfaithful to Marcus? Or do I just want to be used?
Ricki helped her out of the chair, then slipped the remains of the torn gown down her arms and tossed it towards the bin. Lydia simply stood in a daze while he gently wiped her down with a damp towel. He bustled around the room, clearing up while she slowly got dressed.
Lydia stared blankly at the floor while she tidied her hair. She’d learned far more about herself in the last few hours than she had in her previous thirty-odd years, and it worried her.
Ricki’s voice broke into her thoughts. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
She looked up at him, dragging herself back to the present. “Um…”
He nodded understandingly. “Don’t get worked up about it, Ms Martin. What happened here was just a fantasy. In real life I don’t go around abusing my customers. In real life you don’t let people boss you around. In this room you can do and say things that you wouldn’t dream of doing or saying anywhere else. I’m not going to gossip. Why should I? I enjoy it just as much as you do. Why would I want to spoil it?”
Lydia found herself smiling. “Right. You’re right. Thank you. I mean, really… thank you.”
Ricki unlocked the door and opened it for her. “The receptionist’s gone home so you can pay next time you’re here. Don’t forget to show hubby your new look.”
Lydia chuckled. “That’s one command I’m happy to obey.” She stepped through the door but as she went past him, Ricky gripped her arm tightly. He leaned close so the remaining staff wouldn’t hear.
“Next time we won’t bother with the gown, shall we? It just gets in the way,” he murmured. “As soon as you come into the room and close the door, you strip. Understood?”
Lydia stared at him in silence, face slowly going red, then nodded and quickly left the shop.
Extract from ‘Hair Day’ copyright Lindsay Debout 2015
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