Style Me Sexy (novella) (2 page)

He would do what he could for Miss Langston today in the salon, but he best not go beyond that. It wouldn’t be fair to her or
her.
He daren’t.

He waited with impatience for the timer to beep.
Then I will be able to touch her again and bring a smile to those lovely green eyes.

Bridget was grateful to get out from the under the hair dryer. Not only were her eyes beginning to water, but she was looking forward to having Javier wash her hair, to have his soapy fingers massage her scalp and to be at eye level with…
Oh, my gawd. He’s gay. He’s not going to want you looking at his…oh, what does it matter? Looking isn’t the same as touching.

She followed him to the sinks and sat in the chair he beckoned her to. He placed a rolled up towel behind her neck before she rested it on the hard edge of the sink.
He’s considerate. Deborah never did that. I always had a crick in my neck after washing…

She closed her eyes as the warm water cascaded over her hair. His fingers soon followed, pulling the foil from around the strands, caressing her mane as it tumbled into the sink. His attentions caused goose bumps to rise all over her body. She felt her nipples harden into little peaks beneath her bra.

Finally, the foil was removed from her hair, and his hands delved deep into her newly highlighted tresses.
Oh, yeah. That feels so good.
Some sprinkles of water fell onto her face when he rinsed the shampoo from her hair, but she barely noticed. She was noticing wetness spreading elsewhere, and not for the first time, was glad to be wearing the cape. Javier, however, did notice the water on her face, for he gently dabbed at the drops around her eyelids with a towel. She opened her eyes, and they sought and met his. It felt like an eternity, but it was only a few minutes. They simply gazed at each other, and Bridget silently prayed that he didn’t notice the increase in her breaths. She tried to take short, measured inhalations, but it was hard to breathe at all with his eyes on hers, with his hands buried in her hair, with the knowledge that should she turn her head just a bit to the left, she would be at eye level with his plumbing, and oh, she so wanted to look.
How utterly and deliciously naughty.

Javier broke eye contact, abashed at himself once again. He squirted conditioner into his hand and began to run it through her locks. They felt silky to his touch, even soaked in water. Miss Langston had lovely hair, thick and wavy. By the time he was done with her, she would walk out of the salon feeling like the loveliest woman on earth. As she should feel.

He was getting hard
. Concentrate. Think about rugby league. Think about anything else but the lovely lady staring up at you with inquisitive and endearing green eyes. Think about anything else but how badly you want to grasp her hair in your fists as you devour her mouth with your own… How about that Rabbitohs and Knights
game? That was a close call
…

He forced his thoughts elsewhere and finished rinsing the woman’s hair. He was otherwise committed anyway.

Bridget watched in trepidation as inches of her hair fell to the floor around her feet. Javier was taking a lot off. He’d promised her
sexy.
Yeah, he had said a cut and some highlights.
Make you look sexy.
But how was she going to look sexy with no hair at all?

I’m going to go on my date tonight and meet the man of my dreams bald!
A trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts.

Oh gawd. If I hadn’t been so distracted by this guy’s good looks, I wouldn’t be in this mess. My life is over—not that you could have called it much of a life. I wake up, feed my cat, go to work where I interact with people as little as possible, go home, feed my cat again, talk to men online and hope they aren’t more Richards. What kind of life is that?

Another long strand of hair fell to the floor. The only sound Bridget heard was the snip of Javier’s scissors and her own panicked and short gulps of air.

And then she felt an electric razor on the back of her neck, and all thoughts left her mind. She’d never had hair short enough to warrant shaving her neck, and she should be alarmed as she hadn’t looked in the mirror since the shampoo session. She’d been too scared. But the vibration, the soft buzz, the feelings and imageries it evoked…

I may have to fire Deborah. She’s never made a haircut this fun.

Javier set the blow dryer down and reached for a jar of hair wax. With a few flourishes, a couple of fluffs, and the patting down of a flyaway hair, he was satisfied. He noticed that Miss Langston’s eyes were still tightly closed. He gnawed his lower lip.
I hope she likes it. It’s quite a drastic change.

He perused her silently and made a quick decision. Instead of spinning her chair so that she would face the mirror and see herself, he left it where it was and stooped down so that when she opened her eyes, she would see him. He patted her knee. One green eye peered at him. He struggled not to chuckle and also, to force his hand off her knee. What he really wanted to do was run that hand from her knee up to her thigh and beyond. It felt like a heavy weight was on his hand as he removed it from her body.

‘You want some makeup?’ he asked. ‘Just to enhance. You have a natural beauty, only need to enhance it…a light touch of makeup…some gloss.’ Aware he was rambling, he silenced himself and waited.

The other green eye opened. She blinked and appeared thoughtful. ‘Um…okay. I don’t think I have any hair left, so I guess some makeup won’t make anything worse.’

Now, he did laugh. ‘You have hair, and it looks great. I’ll spin you around in a second. I hope you see how gorgeous you were —
are
under all that hair. No need to hide behind hair. Never hide pretty eyes like that.’

She only blinked at him in surprise, her lips slightly parted, and he winked at her before standing and rushing off to find Celeste, the makeup expert.

‘There you go. Javier told me to keep it light, not to hinder your natural beauty, so I just added this pale pink gloss and put some neutral colors on your lids to enhance the green of your eyes. Are you ready to look at yourself?’

The makeup artist was chirping at Bridget in a friendly voice. A bunch of makeup brushes and palettes were discarded on a nearby tray stand.
Am I ready? Will I like what I see? What is all this talk about natural beauty? They must expect huge, massive tips. I’m not beautiful. Richard always told me…

And then Javier, beaming at her, his dimples evident again, swung her chair around so that she could see herself in the mirror. Bridget gasped, and her eyes widened.
Screw Richard. I
am
beautiful. I really am.

The woman staring back at her had a high forehead, vibrant green eyes, and a haircut that flattered all of her features. It fell straight to her chin on either side, accentuating her high cheekbones, and in the reflection from the mirror held by a brown hand behind her, she could see that the back was short, gradually becoming longer and angled as it went around to her front. Lighter strands mixed with the normal dark brown. The woman’s lips were naturally pouty, simply a darker shade of pink.

That’s me. I am stunning.

Bridget felt daintier. Her entire body felt lighter, not just her head. She felt as though so many cares, worries, and insecurities had fallen to the floor at her feet with her plain brown tresses.

She was going to knock her online beau off his feet tonight, and she had one man to thank for it all. One very fine man.
It’s a shame he’s gay. I wouldn’t mind trying my new look out on him.

Javier removed the cape from around Miss Langston’s luscious body with a flourish and felt a flutter in his belly as she turned and emitted joy and newfound confidence his way.
Mission accomplished. Now she sees it. She sees herself. A gorgeous woman inside and out.

‘I don’t know how to thank you.’ Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

He reached out to touch her one last time. She placed her hand in his, and he helped her rise from the chair. ‘I did nothing. I only made you see yourself for who you really are. You have the looks. I only cut the hair. Who you are out here,’ he used his free hand to gesture to her body, allowing his eyes to rove over her curves subtly, ‘now reflects who you are in there.’ He gently poked her chest above her breast, fighting the desire to lower his hand.

‘B-but you don’t know me.’ Confusion showed in her face, but her hand didn’t leave his, and he didn’t pull away.

‘I know enough. Deborah has told me a little, but I see you in here every month, and I hear you chatter. You women talk a lot while you get your haircuts.’ He smiled to soften the words. ‘Your man didn’t deserve you. He didn’t know what he had.’

A lovely blush spread across her face. ‘I wasn’t aware you had noticed me.’

‘Oh, I noticed,’ Javier promised. ‘I noticed, and some man is going to be lucky to be with you tonight, yes?’

She giggled. ‘Oh, get on with you.’ She waved her free hand playfully, and he reluctantly let her other one go. She promptly began to dig in her purse. He reached out and touched her elbow.
I get to touch her once again.

‘No, on the house.’

‘What?’ She stared at him, an expression of shock on her face.

‘Seeing you like this is payment enough.’ And it was. Though the money was going to have to come from his personal funds, it was worth every penny. ‘But don’t expect Deborah to do the same.’ He chuckled.

Bridget took one last look at herself in the rear view mirror. Her hair still looked great. She hadn’t even needed to use the wax that Javier had slipped into her palm on the way out the door. She’d picked up some lip gloss though and had touched that up.

Her car alarm beeped on behind her as she walked up the walkway to the restaurant entrance. Her heartbeat quickened its pace, beating in time with the click of her high heels, and her palms began to sweat where they clutched her purse. She struggled to keep her insecurities at bay. Thoughts of Javier and his words came to mind as she pushed open the heavy wood door.
Who you are out here now reflects who you are in there. Beautiful.

‘Seating for one, ma’am?’ A hostess was frowning at her slightly. Bridget was proud to say the words, ‘No, I’m meeting someone.’ When was the last time she had met a man for dinner?

The hostess smiled in understanding. ‘Shall you wait here or at the bar?’

Bridget ran through the instructions in her mind.
Meet me at the bar at seven. I’ll have a red carnation pinned to my jacket.
Her plan was to make sure that he appeared normal. Normal as in not a felon covered in gaol-gotten tattoos, no beard down to his crotch, no evil glint in his eye, and not over the age of sixty. DS789 was his online screen name, and he had told her he was thirty-five years of age, divorced, no kids, and was an artist. His name was Diego. If he was who he said he was, she hoped—though didn’t require it, because looks don’t make the man, she knew that very well—that he was half as good looking as Javier in the salon. She wouldn’t be intimidated now if he was handsome. Not now or ever again.

From their talks, she knew he was a wonderful person.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and told the waiting hostess, ‘I’m going to the bar.’ Her colourful skirt swished around her calves as she headed to the designated drinking area. The feeling made her imagine a man’s hands touching her legs, and she smiled.
With the way I look, he may want to touch my legs and other things…but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If there’s anything even slightly Richard-like about him…

Upon reaching the bar, filled with laughing patrons and blaring sportscasters on the television sets, she searched for him, the man she was already half in love with just from his emails and instant messages. They had agreed not to exchange photos, to get to know each other for who they
were
and not focus on what they
looked
like.

Her eyes skimmed over the stools. Bald man, fifty-ish, with his arm around a woman his own age.
Nope.
Young guy, baseball cap, dirty tennis shoes.
Is he even old enough to drink? Nope.
Dark suit jacket, wavy black hair with no signs of grey in it, and a red carnation it looked like…
Yep. Here goes…

She tried not to shake with nervousness as she reached the man she believed to be Diego and lightly tapped him on the shoulder. She held her breath as the man turned around, white teeth flashing, dimple showing, and she gasped.

‘I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.’

Javier’s eyes widened as he stared at the mirage in front of him. It had to be a hallucination. How many drinks had he had? He’d just been thinking about her, Miss Langston, and here she was…but what to do when his date showed up? He cleared his throat and gave her his full attention. ‘Who did you think I was?’

‘Diego.’ Miss Langston dropped her hand from his shoulder. ‘I’m m-meeting a man here n-named D-diego. The c-carnation,’ she stammered and gestured to his lapel.

Javier felt a rush of warmth, joy, and worry all at once. He gestured to the empty stool next to him and waited for her to sit. ‘I’m Diego,’ he said.

Her hand flew to her breast. ‘What?’

He rushed to appease her. ‘Javier is my middle name. The women at the salon insist it sounds sexier, so they’ve always called me that. That’s my work persona.’ He watched her facial expressions as he raised a hand to summon the bartender. Her face went from shock and anger to confusion and embarrassment. He felt bad.

‘I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know you were that Bridget. There are lots of Bridgets out there. And lots of women with bad exes, no offence—it doesn’t make it acceptable—the man’s behaviour,’ he stammered and winced.
That hadn’t come out right.

Her expression became icy. ‘Would it have made a difference? ‘Cause I can go.’ She rose from the stool, clutching her purse.

Diego reached out a hand to stop her. ‘No. Absolutely not. Please stay with me. You’re a lovely woman, and I feel we know each other very well. I didn’t lie to you. You didn’t lie to me. Perhaps all this time we were right under each other’s noses and too blind and dumb to see it, so let’s see where this goes.’