Lost In L.A.

Lost in L.A.

By Shorngirl

A little shout-out to my readers. I want to thank everyone for being patient. Things have been a little upended in my life of late, so my writing has suffered. Now that I’m back on an even keel, so to say, I’m hoping to contribute a bit more. Both this story and ‘Leah Lets Go’ were ideas and fragments that I put to pen recently. Glad to be back.

 

Claire

Part One – Spreading My Wings

         If there was one thing I hated it was the cold. I’d been stuck in suburban Chicago since I was born, and I desperately needed to get away. I’d done my duty and graduated high school, with honors I might add, but I just had no desire to go to college, much to my parents’ chagrin. After three years of dead-end jobs and lousy relationships, I was ready for a change. So, when a good friend told me she was headed for the West Coast, well, how could I say no?

         Marley was a good friend; someone I’d known since the ninth grade. She was a bit on the wild side, unlike me, and that was what drew us together. Opposites do seem to attract, as they say. The only trouble I’d ever gotten into was with her. Of course, my parents were more than a little upset when I told them we were running off to California together.

         “Julie Anne, there is no way I’m letting you go anywhere with that girl. She’s nothing but trouble.” My mother scolded. I was twenty-one, and although I didn’t want to upset her, my mother had no control over what I did any longer.

         “I promise to be a good girl, Momma.” Giving her a hug.

         “You know I don’t like it, but you’re no kid anymore, so you just be careful. Don’t let her drag you into anything you know is gonna get you in hot water.” She shook her head knowing that there was nothing she could do.

         Two days later we arrived in Los Angeles. Marley planned on staying with her brother, but I had other plans. I knew her brother, and he was a bad version of Marley. So, I arranged to stay at a motel in West Hollywood that charged monthly. It would be temporary, I hoped.

         Marley gave me a ride to the motel that afternoon. We said our goodbyes and vowed to see each other often. I wondered just how that might go. I wouldn’t have a car, and hers was on its last legs after the trip.

         The motel seemed like your typical place, except there were a lot of trappings indicating that people lived there rather than visited. I stopped at the office and paid the agreed-upon rate, which was still expensive, but it was only for a month, I figured.

         The room had a small kitchenette, and a spot that you might call a living room, although it was all one space. At least it was clean, and I would have to feel safer than I did the night before. The bed was a pull-out, and that made sense for what was going on.

         I spent the rest of the day, getting some basic groceries and having a look about the place. It was certainly a far cry from Andy’s neighborhood, and I treated myself to dinner at a Chinese place. It was after dark by the time I made it back to my room, and safer was certainly relative. There was still that sense of tension.

         It wasn’t much past dawn when there was a knock at my door. Looking at my phone, I was a bit concerned and peeked through the curtains to see who it was. The man was well-dressed and seemed to be carrying a briefcase. Puzzled, I talked through the door. “Can I help you?”

         “I’m here to make you an offer, young lady.” He spoke with a Hispanic accent and seemed legit, so I opened the door a crack. “May I come in?”

         “Can you tell me what this is about?” I kept the panic chain bolted, for the moment.

         “You’ll excuse me, but I was eating at the restaurant last night when you walked in. One doesn’t see unspoiled beauty all that often, so I wanted to offer you a job.” He stood back, perhaps to make me more at ease.

         “Did you follow me home?” I asked, suspiciously.

         “Only to find out where you live. There were no ill intentions, trust me.” He said, apologetically.

         Still uneasy, I looked around and saw that there were enough people around, that should anything untoward happen, I would be heard. Against my better judgment, I opened the door.

         He waited for me to invite him in, but then made a place for himself at the small table near the kitchen. Opening his case, he pulled out what appeared to be legal contracts.

         “Um, what are those? Contracts?” I asked, sitting across from him.

         “Beautiful and smart. Good.” He chuckled, sitting back as if he’d done this a few times before. “Are you a good girl, or are you adventurous?” He asked.

         I thought about my answer, figuring whatever he had planned might hinge on my answer. “Can I be good and adventurous?”

         He laughed, shaking a finger. “I like you already.” He suddenly got serious, however. “I’m not going to beat about the bush here. Most ladies of your caliber shoo me away as soon as I speak. Something tells you won’t.” He pulled out a pamphlet, which depicted what seemed like a high-end gentlemen’s club. It seemed a few steps above your average strip joint.

         “You want me to be a stripper?” I mused, incredulously.

         “Oh, stripper is such an ugly word. I think of my girls as entertainers. It’s strictly a hands-off policy, and safety is my number one concern. The money is very good. You get paid a salary plus any tips you may receive. No sharing. What you earn you keep.”

         I tried to imagine actually stripping in front of people. Marley and I had joked around when were younger, mock stripping for each other in our bedrooms. This was the real deal. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. “Salary?”

         I think he was thrilled that I hadn’t run him out the door and now seemed almost interested. “You start at eight hundred a week. You’ll work five nights a week, or an occasional afternoon.”

         “And I keep my tips?” Eight hundred, plus tips was not too shabby as a place to start.

         “As I said.” He pushed one of the contracts in front of me. “Have a look at this, okay? I know you’re too intelligent to sign something without looking it over. Everything is above board.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a card.

         “Okay. I mean it’s not a yes, but definitely not a no, either.” I said, almost timidly.

         “Take a day to think about it. I’m in my office every afternoon and evening.” He paused. “What is your name?”

         “Julie Wilson.” I held out my hand.

         “Pedro Modela.” He took my hand and smiled. “I look forward to seeing you again, Julie. Oh, and do try to think up a stage name for yourself.” He grinned. “Safety, safety.” He reminded. He saw himself out and left me wondering what on earth I was doing.

         I read over the contract, most especially the fine print at the bottom. There really wasn’t anything odd about it at all. Other than a non-compete clause and a disclaimer for photographic rights and such, it was pretty much rote. There was some mention of private shows and rules on appearance, but those didn’t catch my attention. Perhaps they should have.

         Taking a deep breath, I filled out the information it needed and then set out to the address on the card the same day. The great thing about this place was it was within easy walking distance.

         “Extravaganza,” I said out loud before walking through the doors. The darkness inside made me pause for my eyes to grow accustomed.

         “You lost, Sugar?” A female voice called out from just beyond the entryway.

         “I’m here to see Mr. Modela.” I sighed, looking in my purse to find the contract.

         “Marty! Somebody’s here to see Pete.” The woman called across the room.

         A few seconds later a large burly guy, who must have been some sort of bouncer appeared. He looked me up and down and smiled. “Very nice.” He gestured into the darkness, and I followed. “Looks like Pete found a winner this time.” He said to someone in the room, invisible to me. We climbed a flight of stairs to a well-lit hallway and entered a large and very well-appointed office.

         “Boss. Someone’s here.” The man bellowed.

         Mr. Modela… Pete, turned in his chair, seeming quite surprised to see me. He smiled as I walked across the room and took a seat on the opposite side of an oak desk. “What a pleasant surprise. You’re either not as smart as I thought or you’re a very fast reader.” He joked.

         “The latter, thank you very much,” I smirked, which he seemed to enjoy. I pulled out the contract and laid it on the desk, open.

         He picked it up and scanned it. “You didn’t sign it?” He asked.

         “I’m smart enough to know that you need to see me sign it in person.” I pulled a pen from an elegant holder and looked directly at him while signing it. “There.”

         “I need a driver’s license to make sure we’re all legal, even though you state that you’re of age, Ms. Wilson.” Handing him the card, he looked up and smiled. “Chicago girl, hmm, and just sneaking in under the wire.” He handed it back and then leaned back, his chair squeaking. “Now, I’m going to need to see what I’m paying for. I’m assuming you can dance, but let’s see what you can do with one of those.” He pointed toward a pole firmly mounted, and well-used, in the corner of his office. “Start in your underwear.” He suggested.

         “Um…okay.” He saw the hesitancy in my face and held up a hand.

         “Julie, this job isn’t for everyone. If you’re nervous about showing me your body, how are you going to be in front of a room full of men?”

         “No, it’s okay.” I immediately began to strip out of my jeans and shirt, kicking my shoes to one side, leaving me in just a bra and panties. Shrugging, hoping I pulled off the nonchalant look, I sauntered over to the pole.

Remembering toying around with one back in my youth, I jumped up and fell back into an inverted pose, then slid down gracefully, until I was lying on my back. Rolling backward, I twirled to my feet and grabbed the pole swinging wide with my arms spread, before pulling in tight and losing my bra against the pole. As I pulled away the bra fell to the floor. Turning, and trying my best not to blush, I shook my C-cup boobs at the man, before falling to the carpet and crawling to his desk.

“Not bad, not bad.” He clapped politely. “Better than most newcomers. I think you’ll do fine.” He motioned for me to stand. “Show me the rest.”

“I didn’t realize this was a nude establishment,” I questioned.

“Not in the main room, but we do encourage the girls to perform privately. Then it all comes off.” He reminded, pointing to the contract. “You did read the fine print?”

“Yes, of course.” I hooked my fingers inside the corners of my panties and wiggled them down, one side at a time, until they fell to my ankles. I stood there with him eyeing me up and down for a good thirty seconds.

“Shave that, please.” He remarked, offhandedly. “You can get dressed.”

I was hardly a hairy girl, my blonde curls almost invisible from a distance. If that’s what Mr. Modela wanted though, then off it would come. I’d shaved it before, so it wasn’t a big ask. “I’ll shave it tonight.” I agreed, as I slowly pulled up my jeans, sans panties. I stuffed them, along with my bra into my purse.

“Good. Have you come up with a name for yourself?” He asked.

“I was thinking, Brandy.”

“Nope, got one of those. Try again.” He snickered.

Disappointed, I tried again, saying the first name that came to mind. “Paige.”

“I don’t have a Paige, and I kinda like it, too.” He smiled. “Good, then you are officially Paige.”

“I want you to start on Tuesday night, 5 pm to closing. It’s our slowest night, so it’ll be a good warm-up for you. Practice your moves and we’ll see you soon, ‘Paige’.” He pulled out a wad of cash and laid out what I assumed was eight hundred dollars. “To get you on your feet. Nobody ever accused me of being a Scrooge.” He handed me the cash, which I thanked him for, depositing it in my purse. “By the way, Paige, all names have meaning and a persona that accompanies them. I’m a firm believer in that.”

“I had no idea. Tell me more.” Wanting to be gracious and attentive.

“Paige has a definite correlation with serfdom and service in line with a waif or a thrall. The long blonde look doesn’t fit.”

I was regretting my choice of name already, but it would seem petty to try and change it now. “Okaaaayyy…” I drew out, cautiously.

“A pixie cut should be perfect. Not too short, but definitely off the ears and tapered in the back. A nice plain mousey brown would suit too.” He peeled off another hundred and handed it to me. “This one’s on the house, but you’ll need to keep up the look. You good with that?”

“Yes, Mr. Modela,” I answered, sheepishly. I imagined my beautiful hair laying all over some salon floor, and had to fight back the tears.

“Pete, please. I think we can dispense with the formalities now.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a beautiful girl. You can pull this off, Paige.”

         “I’m okay. My long hair has been a part of me for so long, it’s going to be a shock to have it all cut off.” I said, truthfully.

         “I get it, but as I said, you’re hot with hair, you’ll be hotter without it, my dear.” He walked me to the door. “I’m looking forward to seeing the new you.”

         As I walked back to the motel, I wished I shared my new boss’s enthusiasm over my haircut. It was Saturday, which gave me Monday or Tuesday to get this done. I was thinking it would be wiser on Monday, and give me a little time to get used to a significantly lighter head.

         As I walked, I noticed quite a few salons along the way, each looking more upscale than I could afford, especially a cut and color. Cut and color? I imagined, as if it was the first time I had ever thought of the phrase; it may have been, at least referring to myself.

         A few doors down from the motel I spotted what looked like a small salon that looked like it catered to normal folks. “New Edge,” I said the name aloud, as I walked up to the door. I saw four stations as I walked in the door, all occupied with women in various stages of their hair-dos.

         “Be right with you!” One of the hairdressers called out, as she guided a pair of clippers up a young girl’s nape.

         ‘That’s going to be you’, I thought, remembering the tapering request. I never took the ‘appearance’ clause in the fine print to mean full control. I took a seat in an available chair until a spritely young redhead popped up behind the counter.

         “Hi. How can I help?” She smiled. She sported the approximate cut that I was going to need come Monday, save for the color.

         “Do you have any openings on Monday? I need a cut and color.” I watched as she pulled a tablet out of a drawer and scrolled through.

         “Um, I have a cancellation at 9 AM, with me.” She smiled, bashfully.

         “That’ll be fine, thanks.” I smiled back but knew it didn’t reach my eyes.

         “What are we doing?” Her eyebrows perked, waiting for my reply.

         “Oh boy…” I managed, “a pixie cut with a taper and a… mousey brown.”

         “You seem nervous. You’ll be fine, trust me. Are you doing this for a part?” the redhead asked.

         “Ah, something like that,” I said, questioning my decision to do this at all.

         “Not many girls with hair like yours ask for something so drastic unless it’s for a part or something.” Suddenly remembering she still had a client in the chair, she clipped things short. “See you Monday morning, then.” And, off she went.

         I picked up a few slices of pizza from around the corner and headed back to my room. Pouring a glass of wine, I made short work of the food, before settling in and really giving what I was about to do some serious thought. Was this what I wanted? Could I have imagined this future for myself a year ago? Questions like that plagued me as I stepped into the shower before bed.

         I allowed the hot water to run through my hair, feeling the familiar weight pulling back on my neck. I supposed I wouldn’t miss that, or the volume of haircare products I went through keeping it healthy.

         I’d threatened to cut it short back in Chicago a few times, but chickened out, or was never serious in the first place. I remembered Marley giving me a shaved undercut one time, on a dare. All summer I worried that someone would see my ‘bald patch’, so that was something I never tried again.

         I looked down at my thatch and then up at the fresh razor I had brought with me. Lathering it up, I pulled the blade through the wispy curls, watching as they circled the drain and disappeared. Each stroke made me hotter, and I never remembered feeling that way about doing it before. Maybe it was the reason I was doing it that excited me. I took the handle of the razor and ran up and down against my clit, the tiny grips on the plastic sending shivers through my body.

         Before I got too distracted, I finished depilating myself, being certain to shave all the way back. The smooth feeling was familiar, and yet strangely unfamiliar too. I hadn’t masturbated in weeks, but there was no denying I needed to, right then and there.

         My fingers slid in and out of my cunt and then thrummed my erect nub furiously, back and forth. The thought of what I was doing and what was going to happen played on my arousal like nothing ever had. I had to steady myself as the orgasm rocked through my body, violently.

         Out of breath and dizzy, I shut off the water and climbed out of the shower. I threw on a long tee and wrapped my hair up in a towel. Then there was a knock at the door. It was after dark, and I debated whether to even answer. Was it
Pete, saying he changed his mind about me? Part of me wished that it was.

         “Who is it?” I asked through the heavy metal door.

         “Julie, it’s Marley, you asshole.” Obviously a bit drunk, I was hesitant to let her in.

         “It’s late. Are you okay?” I asked.

         “Just open the door.” She insisted.

         I undid the chain and opened the door to my old friend. “Marley.”

         She walked in and flopped onto the couch, a bottle of beer in her hand. “How the hell are you?”

         “Well, seeing as it’s only been a couple of days, about the same.” I mused, taking the beer from her before she spilled it. “Tell me you’re not driving like this.”

         “Like what?” She asked, stupefied.

         “Drunk, and you did drive over here, didn’t you?” I accused.

         “I drive better drunk than you do sober.” She exclaimed, which may have been the truth, to be fair. “I got a job at a supermarket.” Marley said, emphasizing ‘super’.

         “Great!” I debated telling her about my own good fortune but knew that I could never lie to her. “Me too.”

         “Is that right? My brother got me in at this place, how’d you get a job so fast?” Marley asked, almost soberly.

         “Let’s just say it came knocking at my door.” I grinned.

         “Get the fuck outta here. You’re lying.” She mused, flopping back on the sofa after grabbing her beer.

         “No really. It actually pays really well, and it almost sounds like fun.” I shared.

         She sat right up and stared me in the eye. “Tell.”

         “Let’s just say it’s in the entertainment industry.” I giggled.

         “You can’t act well enough to fool your own mother. They must be desperate.” Marley contested.

         “Actually… truthfully, I’m going to be a stripper.” I waited for the inevitable response.

         “Julie Ann Wilson, you’re not fuckin’ with me?” I shook my head, convincingly. “Jesus H… I mean you…, truth!”

         “Yeah, and I start on Tuesday.” I raised my brows.

         “Hah! Little-goody-two-shoes is takin’ it all off for money. Wait til I tell my brother.”

         “No, no, please, Marley…don’t. It’ll be tough enough without someone I know being there.” I sighed. “You can come, though, if you really want to.”

         “I just might.” We talked for a while before Marley decided she better get back. She wished me luck, shaking her head, amused. I didn’t tell her about my hair, but she’d find out soon enough.

         I spent Sunday working on ideas for my routine and then went out looking for a few outfits that would suit the purpose. Lo and behold, there was a place called Hustler right on Hollywood Boulevard that had everything I needed. It cost me a couple hundred for two complete outfits, but they were really nice. When I told the girl what I needed them for she directed me to a specific section of the store. Everything had Velcro instead of snaps, just for girls like me. How handy.

         All too soon, Monday morning rolled around, my phone waking me with enough time to wash and dress. I tried to eat but it wasn’t happening. Locking up, I headed for New Edge Salon and my date with destiny.

         I went to open the door but found it locked. Disappointed, I shaded my eyes to look inside, happy to see the pert little redhead heading my way. “Sorry about that. We open at nine, and you’re a few minutes early. Come on in.”

         “I’m just glad you’re here. I really need to get this over with.” I sighed.

         “Ah, nerves. I get it, Julie. It’s a huge change for you. I’ll try and make things as easy as I can.” Ashley ushered me over to her chair and sat me down. We’re still doing the short pixie and medium brown color, right?” I nodded. “Oh, did you want to donate it?” She asked, almost embarrassed. “Natural blonde hair like yours is hard to come by. We work with ‘Wigs for Kids’.”

         “That’s a great idea. Almost makes me feel better about doing this.” I chuckled. I held up my hair as she wrapped a silky black cape around me and fastened it tightly around my slender neck.

         “So, I’ll need to braid this up before we make the big cut. Then the hard part’s over, right?” She wrapped a couple of bands around her wrist and began the braid. I supposed this would be the last time, for a long time, I’d feel someone working with my long hair, so I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. I felt the band go on at the top, as she cinched it up tight to my nape. “I’m going to cut it off really close to your head, but seeing as we’re tapering it, that’ll be fine.”

         I felt the cold steel of her scissors at the top of my neck and took a deep breath. The thing was, I was almost as excited as I was frightened. Something inside was giving me butterflies as I heard the first crunch of my hair between the blades.

         “Here we go.” She assured me. “Your hair’s really thick so it might take a few seconds here.”

         I heard her working back and forth with her scissors as they struggled with my hair, and for the first time I felt a twinge of arousal; something I was certainly not expecting. I tucked my chin down, almost in a gesture to offer her more access to my luscious locks. A few last snips and I saw Ashley hold up her trophy, wiggling it almost proudly.

         “All gone.” She smiled. She walked to the counter and placed my crowning glory in a blue plastic bag marked ‘donation’ in large letters on its face.

         What was left of my blonde mane curled around in a jagged bob that barely grazed my chin. I couldn’t resist the urge to reach back and feel how short it was in the back. My curious fingers were met with spiky stubble that pointed straight out from my nape. A surge of electricity coursed through my clit as I drew my hand back under the cape.

         “Caught you, Julie.” Ashley kidded as she returned. “Hope you liked the feeling of it, ‘cause it’s just the beginning.”

         A minute ago, I swore I heard her say that she was going to try and make this easy for me. Now it seemed like she was rubbing in the fact that I had lost all my hair. It was okay because her jabs actually fed the flood of arousal that seemed to be building within me. I wondered if she suspected.

         “Okay, let’s get you washed, and we start in on the actual haircut.” She ushered me over to one of two basins. She made short work of the shampooing, seeing as there wasn’t all that much to wash. “You are going to love how fast things go with short hair, especially as short as you’re going.”

         Again, with the little reminder of my fate. Fuel to the fire in my loins, I thought as I sat back at her station. I saw her arrange a few things on the counter, but the one that caught my eye were the Wahl clippers. Was she going to use those on me? She used a comb to part the hair around my head, fastening the bulk of it on top with a couple of clips. The part was level with the top of my ears, and I had the most delightful rush as she reached for the clippers and flicked them on with a whir.

         “Here we go.” She fastened a plastic guard onto the buzzing blades and moved behind me. As soon as I felt the vibration of the machine against my scalp, I swear I had to fight not to moan out loud. One swipe next to the last, Ashley worked around the back of my head, and I had to wonder just how short things were getting back there.

         Switching guards to a much smaller one, and started in again, although not taking them quite as high this time. As hard as I fought, a small moan escaped my lips and I hoped that Ashley had missed it.

         “Seems like you’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Julie?” So much for my covert arousal. “It’s okay, I’m the same way.” She admitted. “I get so hot when I go for a change.” My eyes met hers, and there was a moment of understanding. “Chin down, now.” I felt her hand push against the back of my head almost forcefully. She tossed the guard on the counter, and I knew the blades were bare as I felt the hot metal against my nape. “Hold still.” Short little strokes followed as she tidied up the bottom.

         “Wow,” I sighed. “That was intense.”

         “I bet it was. You wanna feel it, Julie?” She whispered in my ear, so no one else could hear.

         My hand came out from under the cape and ran tentatively along the base of my neck and then upward into stubble. “Oh…” I gasped quietly.

         “Yes. It’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it.” Ashley mused as I hid my hand back under the cape, wanting nothing more than to slip it under the waistband of my jeans. She flicked the clippers back on and almost as an afterthought, whisked away my sideburns. I gasped slightly at the change that small action had on my appearance.

         Smiling at my predicament, Ashley let down the top, hiding almost everything she had just done. With comb and scissors in hand, she went to work as hanks of blonde curls slid over the cape to the floor. Watching in the mirror, the bob slowly disappeared, and the defined shape of my head beneath began to take shape.

         She was now down to two fingers worth of hair as she snipped, and that would be the longest I would be afforded. Ashley worked across the top in the same manner, leaving just enough to lay over. A little persuasion and it would stand in bristles, I was sure. Our eyes met often, and I was certain she knew exactly how hot I was, and how engorged my clit was getting as it rubbed against the moistness of my panties.

         I thought that maybe we were done, but as she reached for the clippers once again, I settled back in. “A little more off the back and sides and we’ll be ready for color.”

         Color? Cripes, I had completely forgotten about the color, such had been my state of mind. “Okay.”

         “Are you alright? I knew you were having fun there, so I was just watching.” Ashley smirked.

         “No, I’m fine. I just need…” God, I had to stop myself.

         “I know just what you need, Julie.” Ashley declared, knowingly. “Been there, babe.” She put a larger guard on the clippers now and tapered in the bottom with the top. A couple of snips around my ears with the scissors and she was done.

         I wondered how different it was going to look once it was darker, because right now, it looked really, really, short. It took a minute for her to mix up the color and apply it to my foreshortened hair. ‘Bye-bye blonde baby’ I said under my breath. I watched as the murky brown goop was worked in and then covered tightly with a plastic cap. Then I was left on my own as Ashley started her next client in a neighboring chair.

Every once in a while, she’d wander over and lift the cap, shaking her head. “Not yet. No playing around under there.” She whispered into my exposed ear. The thing was that’s exactly what I’d been doing. I was sure no one was the wiser as my fingers caressed myself through the crotch of my jeans. Apparently, nothing slipped by my astute stylist. Maybe she’d been guilty of the same.

“Okay, let’s get you rinsed, Julie.” Back we went to the basins and another rinse and repeat. She wrapped my head in a towel and walked me back to the chair, turning me away from the mirror before removing the towel. “You’re gonna get the big reveal at the end.” Ashley prodded. She roughly towel-dried the hair and applied a little gel; a blow dryer for a second and I do mean like ten or twelve seconds, and she was done. “Ready.”

As I came into view in the mirror, I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping open. Gone was the blonde goddess everyone knew back home; in her place, a dark, spiky, blue-eyed vixen. “Holy shit!”

“Right?” Ashley grinned. “You look smokin’, honey.” She slipped off the cape and her eyes immediately went to my crotch, smiling that I hadn’t disappointed. Following her gaze, I was horrified by the dark damp spot on my jeans. “Don’t worry, Julie. It’s our little secret.”

I paid her at the front, and as she only charged me eighty, I left her the rest as a tip. “You were great, Ashley.”

“Well, if you need a freshen-up, you know where to find me.” She smiled.

“Oh, I’ll be back. Often.” I almost felt like telling her why I was getting the cut, but that could wait for another time. She slid around the corner and gave me a hug. “And… if you ever need anything else, well…” She whispered, as she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

I almost ran back to my motel room. I locked myself in and practically ripped off my clothes as I ran to the bathroom. The full-length mirror on the back of the door left nothing to the imagination. I never realized how long my neck was, or how short my hair actually was as I turned side to side, catching the skin-tight taper in the back.

I was so glad I’d shaved my pubes because it would have spoiled the look. As it was, bald and slick with my juice, it was calling to me. I leaned back against the opposite wall and sank my hand into my cunt, groaning loudly with the sudden waves of pleasure that swept over me. I wanted to draw it out, to enjoy it for longer, but the fact that it looked like I was fucking a complete stranger in the mirror, sent me crashing over the edge.

“Holy fucking shit, that was intense.” I gasped as I lay in a pile on the tiled floor, panting for breath. Was I ready for what lay ahead? I wasn’t sure, but it seemed I was far more of a sexual creature than I’d ever imagined.

To be continued…