An Apprentice Needs Help

by Wannabe Ginger

 

It seemed like an easy thing to go along with when she first asked. "Let me wash your hair, she said, "now I have this apprentice's job at the hairdressers, I can get practising for my first day". Little did I know where it would lead.

We are both in our late teens; about the same age, been at school together, never date as such, but always been good friends. Both looking for a job after leaving school – neither of us knowing just what we wanted to do. She had always had an interest in hair and beauty, which meant she was always a good looker. A job in hairdressing seemed to be a good step. I, by comparison, had no real idea of a career - needed time out, even a 'gap year' before deciding.

Apprentices have to do all the very basic things that get done at a hairdresser's – meeting and greeting the clients, preparing them with gowns, washing their hair and settling them down with a coffee before the Stylist should take over. Those were the easy things, she said, but washing the hair wasn't so straightforward. Getting close to the client, almost intimately close, laying hands on their heads, running water through their hair, putting sweet-smelling shampoo on and working it into a lather, drawing fingers through their hair – sometimes long hair – needing great care. Needing to be conscious that many clients see this time as a first time in the day to be really relaxed. For many, having hair washed by another, usually younger person, was a real treat – a little luxury in a busy day. Some talked, but some just closed their eyes and made the most of being pampered………

So she said; that was what it would be like for her, as an Apprentice, to be dealing with people in such a way.

She liked the idea – but she knew that a lot could go wrong in all of that – some clients would feel the water was too hot or too cold, water would go in the eyes of some people, much to their discomfort. Some would feel the motion of her hands as too forceful, others might feel it would last too little time, others too long. All of this made her want to have plenty of practice.

It seemed the least I could do to help. Who knows, I thought, it will bring us closer together and we might even end up dating eachother. After all she was a really good looker, when I thought about it.

It was to be two weeks before she started her job. Before then, she hoped, she could get practice with her best friends; as many as she could. Several of her girlfriends had agreed to have a 'wash and dry' with her. Would I? Should I? Yes, why not? There can be no harm I thought, and maybe a benefit one day.

My own hair wasn't long, but it hadn't been cut for the last school term – getting ready for college life maybe; nobody seemed keen to get shorn this summer. So it was just a few inches long, almost the same all over, falling well over my ears and the collar of my shirts. It was mousey-brown, typical 'nothing' in colour and needed washing on a very regular basis. So the idea of having it washed, rather than having shampoo streaming over my eyes in the shower, appealed a lot. I had often had my hair washing at the hairdressers, in one of the 'back-wash' basins. I had felt the relaxation that can be had, laying back while it's being done. All the more, the idea of this pretty woman of my own age doing this to me appealed.

I didn't, for a moment, think that there would be a sexual overtone to the treatment I was to receive. Maybe it would lead, as I said to our getting closer. Who was to know? So, I agreed I would play my part in her preparation for this new job. It was no surprise to learn that three other friends, all girls, had agreed to join in. We would spend an evening at the home of the Apprentice. We would all have our hair washed in turn and she would dry our hair individually. There would be coffee and Cokes available. Her Mum and Dad would see we were not disturbed.

It was a great fun evening. We all arrived nearly together. Now I should name those present and describe them each in turn. The Apprentice is called Karen and it was her home in which we met. Karen was then 18 – this will be a long story – and Karen had stunning eyes; green eyes, that went with her light brown hair. That was the cut to chin length in a pretty pageboy bob; perfectly smooth and straight, which I admired. It invited a touch. Her hair had been different colours through school – always eye-catching. She always looked after it; always in perfect condition. She had been a brunette, like now when I first met her. Before long, she had gone blonde – well, it was summer, and she went a very delicate light golden blonde, almost pastel, certainly not brassy like some of her classmates. She had been no more than 15 then, but clearly had an appreciation of what the word "class" meant, when it came to beauty.

Her hair went darker as that first winter approached. Not for her, not then, were dark roots allowed to appear on her head. Not until one time later, when it was intentional. Over the next year or two, she was always the one in school that surprised others with frequent changes of her looks. Most often with her hair – it was easy, she said. Fascinating. From brown, that first winter, she went a wonderful warm auburn, almost burgundy colour. The more I think of her then, the more I think that red hair suits her. The next summer, she laid lovely blonde highlights into the red under-colour; doing this all herself with well-known brands of do-it-yourself home colours. By the time she was 17, she had experimented with raven, almost 'blue' black, and white blonde. That was when she purposely let the blonde grow out a little, leaving what a styling article in a magazine she'd read called "come to bed roots". The raven black had not suited her. Too harsh it was, but it might not stop her trying it again. What suited her was the change – each time – and the reaction of others to her distinctive looks. That was up to last year. Since then, she had been brunette, sometimes with blonde highlights, sometimes not.

Throughout, the cut of her hair was immaculate – that was where she relied on others to take care of 'the look'. A friend's mother was a part-owner in a local hairdressing salon and a cut was always available so Karen used the friendship to its fullest benefit, having a cut every two or three weeks – keeping the pageboy she loved immaculate – sometimes longer, sometimes much shorter, but always immaculate, smooth and inviting a touch. No wonder, really, that she was now taking hairdressing up as a career for the future. Creativity found its expression in her own hair. Why not turn it to good effect on other people's hair?

It was to become a fascination for me.

She was moderately sized –perhaps a size 14 or so; her face was pleasantly rounded and her lips looked very kissable, framed as her face was with this pretty, touchable brown pageboy bob. She wore very little make-up. Her skin was flawless and a little lipstick was enough, for everyday wear. Her eyes were highlighted with eyeshadow for evenings. The more I thought, the more attractive she became.

This was one such evening. The three girlfriends who arrived together, just before I did, wre clearly less adventurous than Karen. They each had lovely hair, don't get me wrong, but all needed a better cut and perhaps some advice on conditioning and colour too. Not surprisingly, one was naturally fair, another a brunette and the third a real raw, bright natural "carrot top" ginger – "Spice" they called her. They laughed and all made me feel at ease when I arrived… "Nice to have a guy along with us girls" said Kerstin, the brunette, "Karen needs unisex experience" said Margot, the fair-headed girl, and "it'll be more fun with you around" said "Spice". We all settled with little more introduction from me than "I expect Karen's told you why I'm here – I hope it's going to be a lot of fun, and a help for her". Karen was the warmest of all, saying "it's more appreciated than you know; it's so kind to have someone offer his time unlimited while I'm learning and he couldn't be a nicer guy… or have nicer hair to work with". What did she mean by that?, I wondered.

There is no denying that, looking back, something sexual dawned at that moment. Just a warm feeling and a look in my eyes must have betrayed my thoughts. "It's all strictly business though……", said Karen, "………….Coffee or Coke, for anyone?" This was going to be an evening to remember.

We talked for a while, about trivial things. From time to time, the conversation became a bit "girlie" but no matter, I was enjoying the company of three really quite attractive girls and there was no competition or need to be macho with them – nobody to impress. Unexpectedly, I could even express an opinion on some of their girlie topics, fashion and styles of clothes. It wasn't long before the conversation got round to Karen's new job and why we were here. The question of favourite hairstyles and hair colours came up - again, I was free to express opinions just as the girls were doing. What did it matter if I was the only one to say how much I liked highlighted hair; ok, I had to agree with them that highlights would involve a lot of work to keep them looking good, but my opinion was debated just as much as any of theirs. I didn't imagine it being this way, but I enjoyed the first half hour we spent together.

We had to remember what we were at Karen's home to do. "Who's to go first?" asked "Spice"; "Well, all girls together, I'd say…" said Karen, "…………..Any objections?" There were none and, secretly, I was pleased…. By being the last, I would be able to see (and savour) what was to come for myself. It wasn't long before the long fair hair of Margot was under the stream of warm water and shampoo was in Karen's hands, poised to work on Margot's hair. Margot looked up at Karen and smiled. "Go ahead", she said. There was a tiny pause, no longer than the blinking of an eye, but a pause it was – a pause that said "this smile is special". Karen's hands began to work their way over Margot's head, gradually entering the long strands of now quite darkened hair; no longer was it fair - as hair darkens when it's being washed. The lather began to rise as the hands worked their way back and forth across the head. I watched, somehow hypnotized, finding something incredibly fascinating about the vision before me.

Margot's eyes had closed, after that smile – what had it meant – of course, it had meant "Go ahead"…. But the meaning hadn't stopped there. In my mind, the words to follow were unspoken but unmistakable ….. "Go ahead and kiss me". Was that what Margot had meant to say? If it had been me in her place, as it would soon be, if the smile were the same; then, that's what I would be meaning.

The shampoo raised a rich lather than Karen stroked liberally through Margot's long hair. It seemed to take for ever to rinse through but the time came when there was a need to wrap Margot's hair in a towel for it to be dried later, and for "Ginger Spice" to have the same treatment as Margot had just enjoyed.

Her hair was shoulder length too – just like Margot's – so there was plenty of work to be done with her. I began to wonder who would be doing Karen's hair – her immaculate pageboy cut - if it would be washed at all. Perhaps not. Perhaps another time. Perhaps I might be asked to wash her hair………

Spice's hair also darkened significantly when it was made wet – but it was still very red. The shampoo had the same effect – as did the smoothing of the lather over and through Spice's red tresses. Again, it was hypnotic. Spice closed her eyes, as if luxuriating in the attention she was getting from Karen. Over and over again, the later flowed and then, eventually, the rinsing began. Karen's closeness to the other girls became electric……… I was enjoying this far more than I had expected to.. and perhaps more than I ought to have done. Spices' eyes opened and she smiled at Karen. "This salon has a special way with new customers!" she said "… and I do like it – the way you make a girl relax!!". Karen's return of the smile did more that show pleasure – she was delighted that Spice had entered into a bit of a charade – play-acting the scenario of being a new client of the salon where Karen was to work. It added a tough of realism. It pleased Karen. I should do the same if I could.

Spice's hair was wrapped in another towel, ready to be blow-dried by Karen. My time was nearly up – it was my turn next…. "My hair will dry all over the place unless you take care of me now", said Margot. I sensed the likelihood of a trauma if she weren't attended to immediately. Her tone made it clear; Margot wanted Karen's attention and she wanted it NOW! Karen's eyes met mine – fleetingly – and it was clearly better for me to volunteer to wait rather than have Karen go ahead as she and I'd expected. "Please", I said, "Margot's right – she should be finished off before we go any further. Your styling skills need to be used too, Karen." It was the right thing to say. Margot got her way and, by the look she gave me, Karen was pleased to avoid a fuss. Me? It didn't matter one way or the other – I was still to get to see what was in store for me. I found myself fixated on Karen's pageboy hair again – it was so smooth and shiny – as only a regular cut can bring. It moved together, framing her face, defining her neck as the hair turned under and met her skin. My eyes couldn't turn away.

Margot moved to the chair in front of the mirror above the dressing table and Karen stood behind her. The towel was taken away and Margot's hair looked like thatch! It really did need attention. As Karen began to comb-out Margot's hair, it was as though Spice and I were less than mere observers to what was going on.

There was eye contact between stylist and client that was unmistakable - just as it had been before the shampooing. There was a smile, returned from one to the other, as Karen ran her comb through Margot's long fair hair. She did this gently, so as to avoid breaking the hair, or causing tangles that would be tough to remove. She started the hairdryer which brought a rush of sound into the room – suddenly, I was aware that nobody had spoken for, it seemed like, several minutes. Karen teased the sides of Margot's hair, inviting comment and, I gathered, approval to do something more than a simple plain drop-sided style. More smiles. Spice and I exchanged glances, quite unintentionally - her rather obvious reaction told me that I wasn't alone in what I was thinking. Spice smiled at me, her red hair framing her face and I returned the smile with extra warmth. "I'm noticing hair much more tonight - I do wonder why?", I thought.

The dryer worked its effect on Margot's hair as Karen ran her comb, and then her hands, through it. Karen made no efforts to apply any extra treatments to Margot's hair – this was to be a cut & blow-dry; nothing more…. Not this time. This was all each of us was to have…. This time.

As her hands ran through Margot's hair when it was nearly dry, the hair became quite remarkably "big" – that's the correct term…... "Big hair"…… Just the work of her hands allowed Karen to give volume to Margot's plain style – parted down the middle with a very full fringe and the sides dried curling away from the face. If it had highlights, her style would have been a 1970's "Farrah" – the style of that decade, copied by thousands of "teen/twenty-something" girls. But Margot had no highlights, so this was a more modern and understated style; feminine and yet easy to manage. Margot didn't strike me as a "spend hours on it" girl when it came to her hair. She did, however, keep concentrating on the image of herself in the mirror – or was it the image of Karen? I couldn't escape the thought that it was a bit of both.

By the time Karen had finished, we could all agree that her first "client" looked stunning. Karen was modest in the face of all our praises and just promised that he hoped she would improve…. Next time. She clearly had plans that this was to be repeated. Well, she was thinking that and my involvement hadn't even begun. When was my turn? I felt like asking but decided to just "go with the flow" – after all, it was fun being here and there was no pressure to wind-up the proceedings.

Ginger's hair was drying, by this time, of course and I was conscious that the same problem would arise with her hair if it were not dried soon – wrapped in a towel, her face looked plain without the wonderful crown of bright hair around it. Bright was the word – with it, her eyes lit up, without it, they just cried out for something. It was right that she go before me. The red hair tumbled around her face as the towel was taken away. "Wonderful", I murmured. Spice may have heard. Karen made appreciative noises as she began to dry the hair now in her hands. The dryer made the same rush of noise, the strands of hair were teased and combed the same way. The shoulder length looked fuller with Spice –something to do with redheads having more hairs than blondes, maybe – her hair was undoubtedly thicker and stronger ; it rose naturally, giving height and body; quite unlike Margot's which was more sleek and softer but which needed effort to give it volume. Spice's hair finished with a high crown, swept back from there, with a central parting that gave way to flipped-up tumbling curls that swayed on their own as her head was turned.

So that was that – the two girls were both finished and more than an hour had passed in a flash - I had hardly been aware of the time, except when the speed of drying had become an issue – I was still untouched.

"Now it's your turn", said Karen. "Still game???", she smiled. "Still game!", I said "…… if it's your evening to do guys in the salon".

"Oh, but sir, you'd be welcome anytime here", she answered.

"Even when there are girls around, having all sorts of treatments?", I asked…. (getting into the role play).

"You'd be surprised, sir, how many men have just the same treatments!" Karen teased in reply. "You're here for a shampoo and set, are you?".

"Whatever you say", I answered – That was the deal – I agreed to turn up and have Karen wash my hair. It had to be dried, so that was part of the deal. After all, there wasn't much to my hair – at the time of this first evening - so the drying wouldn't take long. Or so I thought.

"Is the water too hot?" I was asked after settling down at the basin. Karen stood above me, her hands full of shampoo, just like before with Spice and Margot. Karen smiled. "Not too hot", I replied, even though it was hotter than I'd expected. "Good, the hotter the water, the better the style", she said. The lather had a very special aroma. It was thick and felt wonderful as her hands ran through the length.

My own hair wasn't long and it was a lot shorter than the two girls who now watched me take their place. A lot shorter than Karen's perfect pageboy. But it hadn't been cut for the last school term. So it was just a few inches long, almost the same all over, falling well over my ears and the collar of my shirt. It was mousey-brown, and it went darker when it was wet. My typical 'nothing' colour nevertheless. It was true that it needed washing on a very regular basis.

So the idea of settling back here and having it washed, never mind if it was extra hot, was better than having shampoo streaming over my eyes in the shower. Karen's idea had appealed a lot. I felt the relaxation that can be had having your hair washed, laying back while it's being done. My thoughts came back as soon as she started.

All the more, the actuality of this pretty woman of my own age doing this to me appealed all the more. Unlike when she worked on the two girls' hair, she talked the way she would in a salon; asking had I been happy with the way my hair was, whether I had thought of changing it in any way, when I had last had it cut, and where. All of this took me more into the role play. I answered as fully as I could, making up little scenarios along the way.

Well, I had been quite happy the way my hair had been for years, I'd never been able to spend a lot on its care but always found hair an important part of being myself. Ther had certainly been no changes over the last year as it had grown without regular cutting, but maybe it was time for a change. It needed conditioning that was certain.

After the shampoo was washed away, Karen picked up another plastic bottle and filled her hands with a creamy liquid….. "Conditioning it is then, if that's what you need, and I think you do". This time, all the more, her hands moved slowly across my head, as she worked the soft and sweet-smelling cream into my hair. Round and round her hands went, every swirl feeling good and making me all the more relaxed. She smiled again and, turning to the other two, said "I think he's becoming just a little spaced-out – you should have asked for the same – we could be here for some time!" She smiled again, right into my face, and my breath caught a heady mix of her personal fragrance and the conditioner's essence. How could I do anything but smile in return – I really could get to like this sort of treatment. It was different to a salon or, still less a men's barbers' shop. I'd long ago stopped going to the barber's – women and men together was the norm in any case. But this was different to the salon I'd been to before. Nobody there came "that" close, it seemed to me.

The conditioner was finally washed away and my hair, once towel-dried, left to be seen in the mirror. It needed to be dried. Ginger and Margot finished talking on the sofa and got up. They came across to where I was sitting, with Karen close behind me. "What will you do with him next, Karen?" asked Margot, "…..now you've got him where you want him! "Is that where you want him?" asked Ginger, "….. and if so, what's next?"

"Oh, yes, that's where I want him." said Karen, "….. but he's just given me an idea – when he said "Whatever you say", when we talked about drying". "Well, we two girls both had a blow-dry, can't he have the same?" asked Ginger. "You couldn't do a lot with hair that length, though, could you….." Margot added. "…just blow-drying it".

"Exactly what I was thinking" said Karen "But I could do a lot more if he'd let me set it on rollers, couldn't I?" She looked in the mirror – seeing me not believeing what I had just heard her say. "Couldn't I?", she asked, looking straight into my eyes, smiling the same way as before. I was kind-of speechless.

"You said 'Whatever you say', didn't you?" She paused. "a…a…and I need practice with rollers and the two girls' hair is dry and styled and yours isn't; it's all warm and wet and ready to be styled". Her eyes never left my own in the mirror. I had still said nothing.

"Yes, yes…… go on!!!" said Ginger. "We'd love you too – and nobody else need know!" "I'm sure Karen could make a neat style for you with rollers and nobody could tell how it had been created", she went on. "I wouldn't need to be a girlie style." Karen chipped in, to force the agreement. Margot had said nothing up to this time but added "the agreement was 'Whatever you say' and so I don't think you have much choice in the matter. I think you have to stay until Karen has done whatever she wants to do with your hair". She looked hard into my eyes and clearly meant it. She turned to Karen, saying "He's all yours".

This was a defining moment in the whole evening – I had said nothing, but I was, indeed, all hers to do whatever Karen wanted. Rollers? Me? Whatever would I end up looking like after a set with rollers? "……..Whatever you say", I said.

My hair wasn't long, but it was long enough, they all agreed. "We'll use the largest ones we can so the curls don't get too tight", said Karen as she reached for the box of tricks that contained her combs and pins and papers and foil strips (what were those for, I wondered? Oh, yes, I remembered, highlights get put in with foils). Nevertheless, the rollers looked quite small to me. They were no more than an inch in diameter; I supposed that they couldn't be bigger, so hair that was 2-3 inches long would go round with ease.

There was no backing out now. The first roller was in Karen's hands. She sectioned the hair around the crown of my head with a comb. It had a pointed end and a normal body. She saw my eyes on the comb. "It's alright, you won't get stabbed by this… It's got a point so your hair can be divided for each roller in turn. We use the same type of comb when we're highlighting hair – weaving different colours into small strands of the hair." She sectioned the hair right on the crown and started to wind the small lock of hair onto the first roller. It now looked huge!!! Right on the crown, winding backwards towards my neck. Karen rolled it once, then around again, as far as she could go. She pinned it in place. "There, that wasn't too bad, was it?" she asked. "The first of lots, by the look of it", said Margot. "You'll get at least twenty around there, I'd say!", said Ginger.

"Twenty????!!!" I said, "You must be joking – tell me you're joking!!!"

"Not at all…..", said Karen. "At least twenty… so we'd best get on! Her comb got to work with increasing pace. The second roller went in at right angles to the first, diving a parting forward from the crown. The third went to the left, opposing the second and making the parting clear. A fourth went in to the right of the crown. The fifth to the left. A sixth and seventh went alongside the second and third. The pattern was taking shape. I was rooted to the spot. What would all of this look like when it was finished?

Karen's "salon chat" had got going again now, as she warmed to the task of putting all these rollers across my head. She asked was this visit for a special occasion? Had I ever thought of growing my hair long? Had I ever set my own hair on rollers and had I found it easy? Did I especially admire any celebrity's hair and if so, who?

My answers got me back into role play with ease, taking my mind off the question of how I would look when she had finished. "No, not for a special occasion, more of a celebration of finishing the school year – college had been cool but, by the time the term ended, there was a need to chill out and relax". "I'd certainly though to grow my hair long" and, in fact, I said "where I've reached now is a step along that way – I might let it grow a lot longer".

"You must let us help you with that….", she interrupted, "…. you should know that a good cut is essential if you're growing your hair – keeps the ends from splitting and so the hair grows faster. Maybe, we'll cut your hair next time, if you want", she finished. "Take my hair, for example, I couln't have a pageboy bob like this without having a cut every three weeks. Even with that frequency, the length grows all the time." She was right.

The hair that framed her face was exactly that – a perfect testimony to a good regular cut. I resolved then that I would take her up on the offer – and do it regularly…… Even if that meant a roller set again.

"I'd like that". My answers to her chatting continued. Had I ever set my hair on rollers myself – no, certainly not and no I didn't think it would be at all easy!

Did I admire any celebrity's hair? Well, to tell the truth, too many to name just at the time. All I could say was…. "hmmmmmmmm" as I thought through the names of people whose hair I always noticed whenever I saw them. None of them were men. This was easy role-playing but, quite unexpectedly, I was thinking as though the talk of which I was a part was between female hairdresser and female client. In my own mind's eye, I was thinking as I would expect a girl would in a hair salon.

The rollers were now almost all over my head. The last four making a row around the back of the head, above the nape of my neck where the hair was too short to be dealt with. "I need to keep that hair straight and in position" said Karen. "Give me a moment….." and she left the room. "Setting lotion", said Ginger. "I'll bet she has none". "Well, we could go all out and get some…" said Margot. "Not with me like this!" I said quickly. "Oh, you're shy!!!", she replied.

"I've got some at home and that's only a minute away" said Ginger. "Cool…" said Karen as she came back in – "I'd hoped to borrow some from my Mum, but she's out of it just now. We will just talk while you go, eh?" Ginger left in a hurry and was back in a very few minutes. In the meantime, we continued the "salon chatter" - just who were the celebrities that they, and I, admired as far as hair was concerned. Christina Aguilera, maybe, Posh Spice, Pink was cool, we agreed -all the most modern icons were musical. What about in the past? Blondie, now there was a hairstyle! What about Cher – all those colours she chose. What about the "big hair" groups before that – Diana Ross, for example…. And Dusty Springfield – she was a real icon. "She was gay, you know." Said Margot. "…wonderful voice and so vulnerable".

Ginger was suddenly back in the room, no sooner it seemed than she'd been gone. "Good news and bad news", she said, with a glint in her eye. "I do have some setting lotion – or rather mousse….." - so that was the good news -"….. but the bad news is that it's a coloured product. I use it when my own hair is off-colour or going a bit dull. It really is quite bright…. but it does wash away very quickly…. Honest!" So that was why there was a glint in her eye – it was coloured and would make a real difference on my hair…… I couldn't possibly…… No…… They coluldn't be serious….. Or could they? "It would wash out really quickly, it says on the pack.. look, you can see……. ' washes out in 2-3 washes' …it says…… and they couldn't say that if it didn't… it's not permanent at all….. really!" Again, I was speechless.

'Whatever you say' 'Whatever you say' 'Whatever you say' came back to me. I had really said that without thinking. "You did say 'Whatever you say', didn't you?" said Margot, and added "Like I said before…. the agreement was 'Whatever you say' and so I don't think you have much choice in the matter. I think you have to stay until Karen has done whatever she wants to do with your hair". She looked hard into my eyes and – again - clearly meant it. She turned to Karen, saying "He's all yours".

"He may be all mine", said Karen, "… but there's one problem, you can't put a mousse like that on hair that's already set. We'd have to start over again and we don't have time – even if he pleaded with us to do that – even if he'd always wanted to be a redhead, like Ginger". Which I didn't… or hadn't… before…. before now but, maybe, when I thought about Ginger's hair.. and the question of who I'd admired, one name that didn't come out before was "Ginger Spice" – how wonderful was her hair???? Not now, not as Geri.. not the same at all….. Really red, like Ginger Spice….. Hmmmmmm!

"So we can't do that this time." Time was indeed racing away – my hair had to be dried and then we would be finished. What would I be left like – to go home???

"We'll have to use a hand drier", said Karen "…then I'll dress the style and we're all finished – thanks you all SO much for your help – this has been great and I've really appreciated your time and being willing to play your parts.

The hairdryers' sound rushed once more, the jet of hot air was directed close into my scalp. "Is the dryer too hot?" I was asked after settling down at the mirror again. Karen stood above me, her left hand grasping the dryer, just like before with Spice and Margot. Unlike their hair, mine did not flow freely in her other hand.

Karen smiled. "Not too hot", I replied, even though it was hotter than I'd expected. "Good, the hotter the air, the better the style", she said. She kept the jet of air moving all over the array of rollers - some were rolled up and back, some vertically around the sides, and a parting remained visible from crown to forehead, with a single roller making a fringe. It seemed to go on a long time. "Good, the hotter the air, the better the style", remained in my mind. Perhaps it was just as well that there was no setting mousse, coloured or otherwise.

Karen stopped the dryer and unwound a first roller. The tight curl sprang back from her hand and resumed its place – it was almost as though the roller was still in place.

"Beautiful" murmured Ginger. Margot remained passive and thoughtful. Karen began to unwind the other rollers. Each curl behaved the same way, springing back to the original place. Those on the crown were wound against their natural tendency so stood above where they had been pinned. "Some nice natural lift there" were Margot's first words, "…. they'll need some attention, Karen. Some backcombing, I'd say, otherwise, they'll not make a style of any kind."

Backcombing??? What did Margot have in mind? To me, backcombing meant huge hair, great folds of curls, usually swept upwards, Joanna Lumley style! What could this have to do with me and what we had done. Again, I was speechless – what was the point? "Good, the hotter the air, the better the style", 'Whatever you say' and so I don't think you have much choice in the matter" Margot's words all came back again. "I think you have to stay until Karen has done whatever she wants to do with your hair". She looked hard into my eyes and – again - clearly meant it. She turned to Karen, saying "He's all yours".

"You're right, Margot" said Karen "Until I've done whatever I want!".

Curl by curl, starting at the crown and working around the head, Karen grasped each lock of my hair. She stroked each curl gently at first, running the tailcomb through the hair, before grasping it tightly and pulling the hair up and away from my scalp. That in itself wasn't uncomfortable, but what came next was! The comb was repeatedly drawn back from the tip of the curl to the roots, time and time again, just as I began to remember seeing in television programmes – why had they been showing this - Barbara Windsor's hair came to mind – that's what you got with backcombing – blonde, brassy and BIG! Well that couldn't happen with mine – it's not long enough….. but it didn't stop Karen getting on….. "I didn't expect to practice backcombing at all – but I know it's something you need to know how to do. I hope I'm not doing it to hard…….!!!!".

"No, it's not hurting…. (though it was)…….Whatever you say" and "I don't think you have much choice in the matter" were phrases I had to say. "I think I have to stay until you've done whatever you want to do with my hair".

Each curl was dealt with one by one, leaving the parting and fringe until last – so it was difficult to tell in the mirror the way the style was taking shape. Finally, these were teased into place with the same hard back pressure on the curls along the parting. Some more combing was put into the crown, to lift it above the surrounding curls that were now merged into one another. The separate curls didn't have individual outlines, but the overall look was curly, smoothed over to give the final shape.

It wasn't a boy's hairstyle, by any stretch of the imagination. But it wasn't too girlie either. Just curly under the overall shape, with the nape of the neck straight under the smoothness hiding the rows of curls above. It could have been worse.

"Lacquer!"

"What!??"

"Lacquer! – that's what backcombing depends on." said Margot.

"Now I do have some of that" said Karen…………… and the overall job was finished, with clouds of hair spray; strong hold, firm hold, call it what you will. It seemed to set hard within moments.

How to deal with this, now that Karen had had "her practice".

"When can we do this again – you're so kind to have come this evening! Please, let's agree when????" implored Karen.

Could I do this again? It had been great fun. OK, so the outcome was a little "OTT" but we call all handle extremes from time to time.

"I'd like to bring the coloured mousse next time", said Ginger, quietly.

"I'd like to confirm this marvellous client's request for a cut, next time," said Karen – pointing to me…….

TO BE CONTINUED

  

  

  

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