Cleansing
This was his favorite part, leaning back in the chair, his neck on the towel, the water assaulting him. The woman plunging her hands down, fingertips penetrating the body of his hair. Those sensually smooth red nails scraping gently against his sensitive scalp. He hoped his heavy breathing would go unnoticed.
“You like the shampoo?” She grinned; this guy always tipped big.
“Uh…yeah.” She worked him gently, then rough, into a creamy white frenzy: it always ended this way. He enjoyed the silence while she rinsed him. Settling into the barber chair he said, “Just a little off the sides.”
