Deep Conditioning

Fox booked a haircut with Charlie, the hairdresser everyone whispers about. Halfway through, Charlie leaned in close and offered something else, quieter, hotter. A deep conditioning for what grew beneath the towel. Fox's curls had gone long and unruly, a bright red tangle. The offer hung there between them until Fox nodded. Charlie worked the foam in slow circles, fingers parting curls that clung to her knuckles. Fox's hips twitched. Charlie grinned, wrist deep now, and pulled Fox closer to the edge of the chair. Soap dripped down pale thighs. The mirror fogged. Fox caught Charlie's wrist, guided two slick fingers inside and rocked against them while Charlie stroked herself with her free hand, breathing hard against Fox's neck. Charlie came first, a short, sharp cry, then kept moving until Fox followed, thighs trembling around her wrist. She pressed a palm to the counter as her own climax hit harder, knees buckling, a wet rush spilling across Fox's stomach and the floor. They laughed, breathless, and rinsed each other under hot water, hands gliding over soapy skin until nothing felt rushed or hidden.