"Not so hard," I whimpered
"Oh shutup, you'll like it in the end."
He stood behind me with his hand deep in my hair, crunched in his fat hairy knuckles, as he pumped away. I wondered what my friends would think of me if they knew that I did this to keep my finances in check.
He stopped a moment to take a puff on a cigar, no fancy cuban cigar either. As he stood behind me, I could see him in the mirror. The ashes from his fat cigar fell onto his sweat stained wife-beater. His hairy stomach crept out from under it and rested on my back. Putting the cigar down, he blew the saddest looking smoke ring to his side as he thrust his other hand into my hair.
Turning my head this way and that way, he decided he wanted to have a go at me face to face. He turned me around and smiled with his gin blossoms and rotten teeth. He looked me in the eyes as he worked his way in and out, to the left and right, every possible angle to ensure my greatest satisfaction. This was the only humane trait of this beast.
"Time to blow."
I closed my eyes and before I knew it, it was all over.
"How much do I owe you?"
"Twenty."
I grabbed my gucci bag and walked out of the oil-stained garage. The girls will never know I got my hair done here instead of that pricey uptown salon.
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