The Art of Erotica

A Masterful Makeover

This chapter is an excerpt from A Masterful Seduction by the Book, available soon at Smashwords.

Other chapters include:
A Masterful Seduction by the Book
Masterfully Unexpected
Masterful Surprises
A Masterful Weekend Getaway
The Rest of the Masterful Weekend Getaway

It had been three weeks since George had asked me to get a Brazilian, my hair and whatever else I wanted done. I booked the day with Katherine, who did such a marvelous job on my hair and makeup the night George took me out to dinner and to the gallery.

In that time since, I thought a lot about the encounter we had with her when she fit me with that vibrating egg. It was all so hot with the way George asked her to slip it in to me while he watched. In many ways she was so open about being the kind of woman I wanted to be at times – wild, crazy and totally unashamed and uncensored about her sexual self. The way she seemed to enjoy and knew what she was doing when she was stroking my slit, getting me moist deep inside, made me hope that it was something that could happen again except with me being able to explore her, as well.

She greeted me with a big sisterly hug when I came into the salon. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her what I wanted to have done to my hair. She showed me a picture of what she thought would look good on me.

Actually, the picture wasn’t her idea. She told me that George had given it to her.

“Hmm … a tad bit controlling,” I thought to myself and then knew I shouldn’t be surprised.

Then again what he picked out was much sexier than I would have imagined for myself. It involved layering and shaping my just below the shoulder locks that I didn’t do much with and giving it a darker, richer and shinier color.

I got a little nervous with all the treatments she was putting in my hair. For me, a trip to the salon once every six months was always just a simple trim and a blow dry. This had to be racking up quite the bill. Katherine assured me not to worry about it.

“George just wants to take care of you and spoil you,” she said. “That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

Obviously, she and George knew each other, but I wasn’t quite sure how. George and I never got around to discussing her. I had to ask.

“My friend Thomas and I are good friends with George,” she said with a wink.

Of course we couldn’t talk too openly about how they all knew each other, at least not like most women could talk about their husbands and boyfriends in a salon like where relationship chatter carried up to the high ceilings and bounced off the walls. However, she confided in the relative privacy of the wash station that Thomas was quite a bit older than her and was married. It was an arrangement she said worked out well for her. He paid for part of her rent so they’d have a place to play and she was free to spend her free time as she wanted.

I was curious to know how she spent her free time. Was it with other men? Was it with other women? Would she have an interest in spending some free time with me?

It wasn’t just sex that piqued my curiosity with her. I had very few female friends and I was really enjoying the conversation we were having. Plus, it would be nice to have another sub to talk to as a mentor and to ask questions.

There was also something so comfortably intimate in the way she pampered me. I could feel my breathing slow and my body fall into a cuddled rest as the pads of her fingers rubbed into my scalp when she rinsed the color out of my hair. She drew long, slow strokes with her brush under the warm blast of air when she blew it out. It felt as if her fingers were reading my face like a slow, luxurious, long fuck scene in a braille erotic novel when she worked a moisturizing treatment on my skin and applied my makeup. She coddled and paid attention to muscles and joints I was never aware of in my fingers and toes, the palms of my hands, and the soles of my feet when she rubbed and massaged them during my manicure and pedicure. By the time she was done with my feet, I swore I was walking on a cloud … all the way to the waxing room.

Privacy, at last. She said she’d be back in a few minutes after I removed my skirt and panties (I wasn’t wearing any) and covered up with a towel. She was friendly yet professional about the time she spent with me. Of course she was. She had to be. This was her workplace, even if it involved her working on my pussy.

She came back into the room, turned down the lights, lit some warm-scented candles, and turned on some Zen-like mediation music. She said it would help relax me and take my mind off the pain. She also took a long silk scarf scented with a light floral perfume, covered my eyes, and tied it behind my head.

“This will help you keep your mind off what you might see and any pain you might anticipate,” she whispered …