I did as I had promised myself. I got home from the second evening with "The Girls" and made it up to my bedroom without encountering parents. What their reactions would have been, I still don't know – but eventually was to find out. I passed their bedroom where the door was open. I slid past and closed my door, opening it only to head for the shower the following morning. That was after a wonderful night of imaginings; just how my hair could be done. What would Karen come up with next. The touchings became intense and it was no surprise that I brought myself to a climax with just the thought of back-washing, colours, rollers, drying, styling and backcombing. What a dream – with Ginger and Karen central to it.

  

An Apprentice Needs Help

by Wannabe Ginger

 

Part 3

It was a week later before I called Ginger, not knowing whether to call Karen beforehand. I wanted to see them both again, but for different reasons. Ginger's attraction had overwhelmed me. It had turned my admiration away from Karen who, whilst still attractive, couldn't be the focus of my attention. Kissing Ginger, which was all it was, had led to a wonderful warmth that I treasured each time I thought back to the second evening we had spent with Karen, and with Margot. Margot somehow didn't figure in any equations I could compute. Ginger was the focus; now I fancied her to pieces! She had responded very warmly and our kissing developed a passion. I couldn't tell about the Karen/Margot thing that got going at the same time.

 

"Hi!" she said, excitedly, I thought. "I was hoping you'd call!". I wished I hadn't left it a week.

"I hoped we'd see eachother again", I said

"D'you mean at Karen's, or somewhere else?" said Ginger, in a way I took she hoped I'd say "somewhere else". To have answered that way wouldn't have been the whole truth. I wanted another try with the hairdressing experiments that Karen wanted to practice. There was no way to deny that was getting quite fixated on the whole hair "thing". Wherever I went, in the street or in shopping precincts, or in pubs or on trains, I would now notice women, first of all, for the condition, style and colour of their hair. More than that, in just 2-3 weeks, my thoughts had changed to "how would that look on me?". These were not boys' hairstyles, these were very much what I had begun to fantasize about for myself – the more fashioned, and the more highly-styled, the better. The more boldly coloured, the better. Highlights fascinated me. Red hair, in particular, fascinated me. Long hair was good. Short, highly curled and combed-out hair was good. So many different styles and colours. Crazy colours got special attention. I could always pick out the wild colour among a hundred mousey-browns and "Miss Average" cover-up-the-grey colours.

 

"Well, certainly somewhere else, that would be great – we could go to a bar or take in a film maybe?", I said. "And, maybe, we could have another try at Karen's, if you're happy to….." I trailed off the sentence, not knowing how she would respond.

 

"You're sure you can handle that?" she asked, showing real concern of a kind that maybe I hadn't seen in her, or anyone before. "Sure, why not?", I answered.

 

"Well, it's all fine for now; just so long as you're happy with it all." She indicated no reason for the previous question. "We can do that again, sure – d'you have a day in mind, or have you talked with Karen?".

 

"No, I haven't but let's fix a day for us to go out together first, eh?" And so it was fixed. We would go out together, just the two of us, the next Saturday. That date, which is what it was, was wonderful. We talked, we laughed, and we much enjoyed eachother's company. We agreed to do it again – maybe within the week. During the date, there had been little mention of the evenings with Karen and Margot. Ginger seemed to know more than I did, but it didn't bother me. When Ginger mentioned the two other girls, it was clear that she did. She said that Margot and Karen were staying in that night. It was said in a way that suggested more.

 

More than "staying in". But how was I to judge. We did talk about how the "hair" thing started and Ginger confessed her surprise that a guy like me would be willing to take a place in something like that – however it had started. It wasn't in my mind that it would "go that far", I said, meaning that I'd expected just to have a cut and blow-dry.

 

"Not many guys would do that", she mused. "So, I wondered why you did." Should I answer with the truth – that I had wanted to get close to Karen? Maybe I should – what other reason could I come up with? There was no feeling like that I had come to express to myself more recently – that the hairdressing itself was attracting me.

 

"It was Karen, then………….." I said. "Before you got into my heart. I just fancied her. I thought she was cool. I admired her. I thought her hair was especially cool – and when she said she'd be a hairdresser – it was a' no brainer' as a way to get closer to her. Then you and Margot came round – and that was cool too."

 

It was logical. I was admitting to fancying another girl before I'd got to know this wonderful redhead. A redhead who had chosen the hair colour I had used – or was used on me. She had chosen it. It was close to hers. It was bright and very red – and she had chosen it.

 

"It's all thanks to you that I'm talking abut becoming a redhead", I said. "And I'm grateful for that."

 

"You know Karen wants you to try a permanent colour, don't you?" she teased.

"Not permanent….. maybe one that washes out in 2-3 shampoos; that's all." I said.

"You don't know that. You may have bought one that does that but you won't know that when she starts to put the colour on your hair next time. She'll use the brush and section it all nicely; little by little. She'll tell you that it has to wait for a 'few more minutes' when you ask 'how much longer'. Then a few minutes more. You'll be dyed perfectly by that time and there will be no way of turning back."

I was unsure of how to react – that was going too far and I wasn't ready for that. "How do you know all that?" I asked.

"I just heard them talking – they're getting quite close, as you'll have noticed." Ginger replied. "You know, you must have been able to tell, that Margot is strictly a girl's girl. She's been so for a long time but only now is getting confident enough to be 'in your face' more. She's come on to many of us, and Karen's just finding out what it's like to be the subject of Margot's attentions. She seems to be liking it."

 

"Have you ever had a fling in that direction?" I asked, expecting to be told to mind my own business. But I wasn't. Ginger smiled. "well, she came on to me a few months ago but I'm not really susceptible. I like my male contact too much. But, then, it doesn't mean I wouldn't experiment."

 

Then, it came, a phrase that shook me: Ginger said "You don't know how much the last couple of evenings have hit on me. You're a real honey, you are – it's been such fun."

 

"Why not let's call Karen and fix another evening?". We said, together.

 

Karen's reaction to the call was delight; simple delight. "Margot said you wouldn't call and I'm pleased you proved her wrong", she said. "How would next Wednesday evening do you? Can Ginger come then too? It would be good, because I would like to cut your hair a little more this time. It's growing nicely now we've got rid of those split ends and we can shape it well now, I think. Ginger's too – I think an 'up-do' would be ideal for her."

 

"Cutting? What's in your mind?" I asked, unsure of how much would be taken off. It was true that my hair had grown fast since the trim last time round. Another couple of weeks seemed to have added quite a lot to the length, both on the crown and on each side.

 

"The basic shape has been started for the style I think will suit you best. The crown will need to be set high, like before, but the sides need to be less curled, more close to your cheeks. Like the beginnings of a page boy 'bob' cut, tapered to the nape of your neck while the sides grow some more. The colour will set that off so nicely – and, of course, you can wear it 'rough' during the days. Nobody will know, well, apart from the colour. Are you alright with that?"

 

"Whatever you have in mind, you know that" was my reply, like before. "But the colour won't be permanent will it?" I added. "I'm not ready for that."

"The pack you bought at the Department Store will be fine." Karen came back instantly. "It's a short-lasting, 3 shampoo, product. It washes away quickly. You'll see. Don't be concerned."

"What will you do for Margot, if we're having these things done?" I asked her.

"Ahh, big change for her, if she'll let me. Highlights were the things we talked about – it's fascinating how they go in and change the look of a face. Margot said 'distinctive, nothing subtle' so that's what she'll get. I need the practice, and I want more shots for my photo portfolio. The first lot look great!".

So, Wednesday it was to be. After a date with Ginger at the weekend, when we talked of everything but the hairdressing experiences, I was ready for the third session. How would it end?

Margot was with Karen by the time that Ginger and I arrived at the house. Ginger's words about the use of a permanent colour had troubled me over the few days since we had agreed to get together again. Karen and Margot were deep in conversation with the first lot of photos in their hands. We spent quite a while looking through them. I must confess to a curious feeling, seeing myself with hair rolled up and then in the final styles that Karen had created. Quite curious, indeed. Whatever next?

There was the (now) usual chatter to start with and then the question of who should go first. It had to be Margot – she had not been first yet – so her long fair hair was combed through and Karen reached for her trolley that had several trays of coloured pastes and creams, together with a pile of foil squares – I had seen those in use in hairdressers before, but never seen them used "up close". Karen said she would explain all she was doing, as if teaching students – the way she was being taught by more experienced colourists where she works.

The key points were to grasp enough hair for each strand that was to be bleached. She talked with Margot about how many strands to colour, and how bold the strands should be. "To frame my face, a bold strand either side, she said. "Then a mix along the parting, or perhaps something like the 'undercolouring' that's everso fashionable now – where the whole of the lower half of the head is blonde…. Either way I'd like it making a third of all the hair blonde, maybe?" she asked.

 

Karen's reply was clear: "That will be very bold indeed - you might want to start with less – we can always put more in another time. Would you want to be like Debbie Harry out of Blondie…. Not many people can carry that off, Margot", warned Karen. "Why worry? Let's live a little!" was Margot's answer. "And what colour should the streaks become; what toner will you use? I'd like it quite pastel coloured, not yelloooooow blonde!"

 

Margot was getting into this now – for the first time she was quite animated in the way she talked. As Karen pasted the bleaching mixture on each strand of hair, she almost purred with pleasure. Her eyes never moved from the mirror and the hands that were, one-by-one, laying little foil parcels across her head. By the time the job was finished, Margot looked quite quite different. She took Karen's hand as the last foil packet was placed. She squeezed the hand and smiled, saying "I can't wait to see how you've done this!" Karen smiled back and said "Time will tell – you'll have a half hour to wait at least before we can continue. In that time, we'll have Ginger's hair washed and rolled-up, and then we can continue." "Did you take a 'before' photo?" asked Margot. "Oh, no!!! Well, we'll have to take others. Let's get the foils into the records!" said Karen.

 

So, I was to be last again. Not to worry, this was proving to be fascinating all over again. Highlights were a great attraction. For a moment, I thought to myself, 'how would they look in my hair?' perhaps it was best not to utter that out loud – they'd be trying them out before I could blink! But how would they look? Now, they would be permanent. How to explain them away? No. 'Don't even think about it……', I told myself.

 

Karen turned to me and said "Would you wash Ginger's hair for me please? I have some preparations to do for her set and there's not enough time to get you all done." Just as if I was the salon Junior that she was employed to be now. Would I????? There wasn't a moment's thought. It would be a delight – after all, it's an intimate thing to do, to wash another girl's hair……. Another girl??? What was I thinking?!

 

There was time to take a photo or two more.

 

Ginger's hair was easily washed. It's thickness and luxuriant waves were wonderful in my hands as the water made them even heavier. The colour darkened as the shampoo ran through the hair. My hands moved round and around her head. Sensual pleasure could only be defined this way. It was a fantastic experience and one I could prolong only for a while as Karen arranged all the rollers that were to be used to set Ginger's hair. "You can do this for me again" said Ginger as she looked up into my eyes as I stood above her. "I can't wait", I whispered.

 

Hr hair was rinsed and Karen suggested that I comb it through, just once. Then Karen took over and wound that wonderful red hair over the huge rollers that were lined up on the trolley beside her. There were huge rollers, even along the nape of Ginger's neck.

 

The hair there was wound upwards away from the neck – clearly to help the 'up-do' take shape. The rollers were wound very tightly, to make sure the style would hold its shape. How much back-combing would be needed, I found myself thinking. And how much would I be getting? The time for that was coming. Karen sprayed setting lotion all over Ginger's rollered hair and put her under the salon-style domed dryer that she had brought home from work. "So much more effective than a hand dryer with rollers", she said. "Got to get a photo of that, as well!".

 

"And now for you!" Karen said, looking pointedly towards me. "Last chance to change your mind! …… or are you sticking with 'whatever I choose' like before? After all, it was what we all agreed." "No changing your mind!" said Margot. "Only if you're sure!" said Ginger.

"Are we talking the cut, or the colour?" I had to ask.

"Both, ….(she paused)……if you're willing." answered Karen.

"Tell me again about the cutting? What's in your mind?" I asked, still unsure of how much would be taken off. My hair had grown fast since the trim last time round.

 

"Like I said, the basic shape has been started for the style I think will suit you best. The crown will need to be set high, like before, so nothing cut from there. And the sides need to be less curled, so we'll set them more close to your cheeks. Like the beginnings of a page boy 'bob' cut, here at the back, it needs to be tapered to the nape of your neck while the sides grow some more. If you have it, the colour will set that off so nicely – and, of course, you can wear it 'rough' during the days. Nobody will know, well, apart from the colour. Are you alright with that?"

 

Heart in my mouth, my pulse began racing and suddenly, I was speaking. "Whatever you have in mind, I said…… you know that" …….was my reply, like before. "But the colour won't be permanent will it?" I added again. "I'm not ready for that." The fact was that the mousse had given wonderful colour to my hair for just one wash – and then it was gone. I'd been disappointed by that.

 

"The pack you bought at the Department Store will be fine. Did you bring it with you? Ohhh, you did!!!! Wonderful! You are such a honey, going along with this!" Karen came back instantly. "Is it true that Margot's mother helped you choose it?" There was nothing to say.

 

"It's a short-lasting, 3 shampoo, product. It washes away quickly. You'll see. Don't be concerned. The cut will look great and this will set it off perfectly. ………….. Is this for a special evening out?" Karen said, as she lapsed into "salon chatter", like previously. What could I do but join in. Quickly, a thought came to me – over the words that Ginger had used. I can wash her hair again soon. How to pick up on that and let her know?

 

"Yes, indeed, I want my hair done for a special evening. I'm taking my girlfriend out on Saturday and we won't have time to do my hair but I'll be washing and setting hers before we go out. She has wonderful thick hair and it takes an age to wash. So, my own has to be easy to manage just now. The cut has to make it just fall into shape." The "dice" were cast, the water flowed and my hair was washed.

 

Karen missed the connection and said "well, you won't escape a good setting after I've cut your hair. Its grown quite a lot since the trim we did last time. I'm sure we can make a real style with it now.

"Here goes……." She said, "Like I said, the basic shape has been started for the style I think will suit you best. The crown will need to be set high, like before, so I'll cut nothing from there. The main change is here….." She touched the nape of my neck and ran her fingers along my collar. "It needs to be tapered to the nape of your neck while the sides grow some more".

 

The scissors began to work across my each side of my head. Karen stretched each strand of hair tightly, checking for the symmetry that had to be created on both sides of the head. The length of my hair over the cheeks was suddenly longer that I had imagined. The parting was very carefully lined up – no mistakes; this was precision design, or rather it was Karen's first attempt at precision hair design. Then, she combed through the longer hair on the crown of my head, and said "maybe a larger roller there now" to herself. Finally, she began to work on the back of my head… where I couldn't see what she was doing. There seemed to be quite a lot of activity with the scissors. How much was coming off?

 

"Hey, wait a minute!" I almost shouted. "Don't complain…." Margot said. "No, let me finish." said Karen firmly. "It needs to be tapered to the nape of your neck while the sides grow some more. What you're getting is called a 'Wedge', and it's half way towards a beautiful page boy 'Bob' cut". A Wedge?? I'd not heard of that before. Nobody mentioned a Wedge…….

 

"I had a Wedge years ago." offered Ginger, maybe hoping to make me feel better. "It grew out very well and made my hair look very well cared-for whilst it grew."

How much longer was my hair going to get? I suddenly felt a bit out of control of this situation. How would this be disguised in my day-to-day world? How could it be made to be "rough" so nobody would notice or comment? "Can we just talk about this?" was all I could say.

"There's no time for that," said Karen, "…and in any case, I've started on one side and now the other side has to match – it would look crazy if I didn't finish it – trust me it will look great – you'll love the look it will give you."

"And in any case…." Margot chipped in. "….. and in any case, you can't forget you agreed to whatever Karen thought was best. She's got you now and you have to! Oh, and lastly, with this, you'll look just as good as a girl or a boy. I could quite fancy you either way." Her words shocked me. I looked towards her. Margot's head covered with foil parcels that held the bleach on the strands of her long hair. She smiled that knowing smile. She knew that there was something in my look at her – could I fancy her too?

"What d'ya mean – I'll look just as good as a girl or a boy?"

"Work it out for yourself" Karen answered back.

"Am I going to finish this cut, or not?" said Karen. "I have to. It's completely out of balance back here…" pointing to the back of my head.

"Believe me," said Ginger, "…it has to be completed and I'll love it – so you will. Just trust Karen and she'll make a great style for you. Never mind how boyish or girlie it looks. She needs the practice and that's what we're giving to her."

So, the cut was completed.

All the discussion meant that it was time to remove the bleach from Margot's streaks and to apply the toner to get rid of any yellow tones there would be. My hair was left damp – to be finished later. Ginger's hair was almost dry under the hood. There was still so much for Karen to do. Margot's streaks – for that was what they were, not fine highlights – were treated with a toner that would take 10-15 more minutes to finish. Her hair would then be set like last time, on huge rollers to create a tight French Pleat. The only difference this time compared to last would be the streaks of pastel blonde that seared their way across the smooth sides of her head and over the back-combed crown. Ginger's hair was allowed to cool after coming from the dryer before Karen set about styling it in the most wonderful up-swept creation. Folds and rolls of hair were combed and gently laid in place. Others were teased and stretched and back-combed to give stunning waves up from the temples to the crown of her head. Simply stunning. The camera had to catch these moments and at last I was able to take some really close-up shots.

That left me as the last to be finished off. But one thing had been forgotten – or rather I thought it had. My hair was still wet. The colour pack was close to hand. There was another pause. I said nothing. It could, of course, always be done next time. Next time??? What would that bring if we were to do this all over?

"If we let you off without the colour this time….." Karen said, recognising that maybe I'd been a bit pushed for the cut to have been quite so clearly a style like it was. "If we let you off without the colour this time, ……..would you let me have free rein next time?"

The time had come to get some reference points about where this was all leading. What did Karen, and maybe Margot, have in mind. This was getting to be more than practice for Karen's learning of the art of hairdressing. Or was it? She had done different things on each of us, each time we had got together. So maybe it was all good really – just as we'd agreed. But there had been no talk of changing my mind.

"Free rein sounds rather 'permanent' to me." I said, not giving away if I was up for it, or not. "I guess it sounds like it, too." Ginger chipped in. "But that could be cool in a way, because I just love what you've done so far – well, what we've all done or rather had done!" Ginger's eyes shone. She smiled in a way I had begun to take a special just for me.

 

"I haven't said no", I said looking back at her in a way that I hoped said "You're special too". "I just find the not knowing what's to be done just too much to bear. Surprises of this magnitude are just too much – and I don't get to look forward to what's to be done. If I go red this evening, what do I end up with next time you practice something different on me, Karen?"

 

"Don't let out the secret" said Margot – she clearly knew what was in Karen's mind. Maybe she had even suggested the idea, whatever it was to be, to her in the first place. Margot's highlights almost flashed as her sleek hairstyle shone. Her eyes flared and she shot glances to Karen and back to me, sitting at the styling mirror.

 

"I think it's only fair if we all talk about what's planned for any of us." I said. "Otherwise it's no go." I don't know that I meant it, but I'd said it.

"There's no plan, it was just an idea that we had, Karen and me, before you two got here." Margot said, in bit of a climb-down. "No, no, of course not, …." said Karen. "We just talked about how your hair would look if it went on getting so much more… well, you know, attractive." She went on. "All it was, we thought, that your hair is growing and it's going to look good with the Wedge as it does. The top is already smooth, and if we use the bigger rollers, the style will fall just right. We thought that if you now have it red, as you wanted, that would make a wonderful base for more colour development next time. There's a process called 'undercolour' that I've used on myself but never tried to apply on anyone else – and I'd love for you to be the first for me to try it on." Almost without taking a breath, Karen had moved the ball-game on. I was to have colour, here and now, and that was not to be the end of it – there was to be "development"…

 

Ginger had listened to Karen's words. I was certain she was already ahead of the game and knew what Karen and Margot had in mind, so I turned to her and asked "What do you think of that, Ginger?" It was important that I knew before saying anything at all. "What development do you see coming?…" Ginger asked Karen. "Would it be red under the longer parts of his hair, and another colour on the top?"

 

"Exactly." Said Margot. Karen followed quickly…. "Well, yes, actually, red as the dark auburn of the colour that you've bought….. but maybe permanent – because it would look odd after a very short time if it were only semi-permanent. Just 2-3 washes it would need to be permanent – a proper tint. And then on the top section, we thought a blonde shade. Of course, that would have to be permanent, because the colour would have to be bleached right out…. But we'd make it… sorry, I'd make it a nice pastel shade of blonde – nothing brassy or yellow."

 

"What do you think of that, Ginger?" Her opinion mattered more than anything now – this was a critical moment. If she said this was too much, too far, I would have to call a halt to it all. The thought flashed through my mind that I wanted her to say "Go Ahead, it's cool". It was gone in a flash. What would I say if she didn't answer, or left it to me alone. The other two were putting about as much pressure on me as they possibly could.

 

"Go Ahead, it's cool". And that was it. Within minutes, my hair was having its semi-permanent colour applied – all over – fully with me in the knowledge that there would be blonde "over-colour" applied next time. There was going to be a next time. I knew it. These girls had me with them with no route of escape. Just because it was my choice.

 

I could handle the looks I would surely get with the colour that was going on – a Wedge cut in a rich dark auburn. Set on quite large rollers, the crown was lifted above the smooth sides of my hairstyle. The back of my head had shorter hair, as Karen had cut it under the longer section on the top. The smooth sides and rear of the crown actually curled under a little – the shape of things to come.

 

When the colour was rinsed out and my hair was dried, the girls took turns with eachother to touch the hair that Karen had finished styling. My hair. Red all over. In fact, deep auburn all over. Shaped in a "Wedge". It would be more difficult to wear rough in the coming week – I could explain the colour with a laugh to anyone who commented. But this was special. Ginger had approved. I asked her if we could meet in the coming week as she took the last couple of photos.

 

"Sure," she said. "That could be fun………. Ginger Two!".

Sure enough, the days that followed proved how difficult it can be to wear hair rough when it has been so tightly styled. It always wants to follow the way it's been styled. The crown won't sit flat, the sides cling to the cheeks, and over all, the red colour left a strong impression that all was very different to my past ways of having my hair. This must have raised the question "Why???" which nobody seemed to want to ask. My mind was often caught wandering back to the evening we had spent together –and forward to the evening I planned with Ginger.

 

That day came round very fast, and I called at Ginger's home as we had arranged. By then, I was ready for a night on the town. I had done my very best with my hair, given that I couldn't use rollers myself. I could do a little back-combing though, and I was quite pleased with the Wedge that I had re-created in my dark auburn hair.

When I arrived, it was clear she was not at all ready to go out. Her hair hadn't even been washed. "When are we going out?" I asked. "When you've washed and set my hair, like you promised." Ginger smiled and took my hand. This was fore-play of the most wonderful kind.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED……………

  

  

  

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