An Apprentice Needs Help

by Wannabe Ginger

Part 4

 

It was indeed a night to remember. I had arrived at Ginger's house expecting to go out on the town. I had done my hair as best I could, with its red colour, a glorious deep dark auburn, and its Wedge shape cut. I had back-combed the crown and smoothed the sides, using as much setting lotion as I could without drowning! And she wasn't even ready! Hadn't even washed her hair! But that was the catch….. that was for us to do together. It would be a long night.

Ginger's kiss was warm and inviting. I had promised her this the last evening we had met with Karen and Margot. I would was her hair before we went out. I would set her hair before we went out. And, if we went out, we would have a great time on the town, and if we didn't go out, we wouldn't!…… We would have a great night in!

It proved to be the latter and a great fantasy took even more shape. Even though we only kissed and showed affection, the intimacy we shared was electric. For me, and I think for Ginger too. Just the two of us. We started with a drink and a little flirtatious talking. How long had I admired her hair? She asked. What was it that attracted me to her? How would I change her appearance? All of these questions she asked without a sign of hesitation. Was I happy with the way my appearance was changing? Had I thought how much different I was looking now? Did it matter that the girls said I'd look as good as a girl, even though I'm a boy? Did I really think I could wash and style her hair as well as Karen could? Did I know that it made her feel quite randy, just the thought of us doing eachother's hair?

Ginger had clearly decided that tonight was a night to remember.

We kissed. The taste of her lipstick was sweet. The look in her eyes was so very sexy. He had used much more make-up than I had ever seen her use tonight. She looked wonderful, I told her. The whole 'being together' thing made me feel very randy too. How wonderful was that! We agreed it was. Time slipped by as we talked. We would never get out at this rate. "Let's do your hair" I whispered.

 

And so we did. Ginger's wonderful red hair flowed through my hands as the water saturated it. The shampoo and conditioner did the same. My hands ran through it again and again. Sensual movements across her scalp traced pathways through the now deep dark folds of her hair. Then the water to rinse away. Her hair was heavy and would take an age to dry. But no matter! We continued to talk as, after towel-drying her hair, Ginger handed me the tray of rollers on which her hair was to be dried. I had to decide how and where to place them. How would any style I could create be anything but a mess?!!!

 

"I'll guide you", she said, increasing the seductive tone in her voice. "I'm sure you'll make me look wonderful!", she added. "I'm completely in your hands." What she said was meant absolutely. She was. In my hands, completely.

Roller after roller went in as I gently combed each section out beforehand. The conditioner helped. There were very few tangles in her thick forest of hair. I chose to put in a parting – a centre one, that would be easiest. Like my own set, the crown would take care of itself, four or five, in her case huge, rollers went into place. There were many more to the sides and down the back, to the nape of her neck. Most were rolled under, to give a smooth outline, but the lowest ones were wound outwards, with the idea of a 'flip' style. I thought of Pussy Galore in the Bond film, Goldfinger. She was a blonde, but the hairstyle she had was a dream. Ultra-smooth. Sometimes flipped out, sometimes flipped under. Ginger's hair was a little longer now, but the style was unmistakeable. Roller after roller. As each went in, our eyes met in the styling mirror.

Then, they would be dried and the style combed-out. And the crown back-combed a little for lift. Beautiful!

As her hair dried, Ginger's flirtation continued as she complemented me on the way my hair had grown. She said how much she liked the auburn colour and the way I had managed to style it so well myself – I didn't tell her how long it had taken and how many re-starts there had been as I had wound rollers the wrong way and failed to section the hair properly. This had been a labour of love! She offered to finish my style off once her own hair had been combed-out.

 

I took time over the removal of her rollers. Each one was a work of art, so I took time with each one. I gently unwound the curls and then combed through each one in turn…… slowly and almost seductively. My eyes switched from hers in the mirror to the folds of hair in my hands. This was heaven! I could tell that Ginger's appreciation was growing by the minute. She too found this incredibly sexy.

 

The resulting "flip" style was perfect for the shape of her face. She seemed very pleased and, when the styling was finished, stood and clasped my hands in her own and kissed me fully on the lips. But our night was only just beginning.

 

Ginger insisted on combing my hair before we were ready to leave. She lost no time in doubling the amount of back-combing in the crown of my hair, and used extra setting lotion to ensure that the sides were sleek and shiny. The sides now reached the level of my mouth, with the Wedge shape taking them up over my ears to just two-thirds of the depth of my neck.

Out we went, dressed smart but casual, both in what I'd now have to call gender-neutral clothes - sloppy jeans and open tops. Footwear was different, however. Ginger in her stiletto heels and me in my flat deck shoes. It occurred to me that we were probably a similar size in our clothing, for what that mattered, I didn't know. ………. Then.

The evening flew by. We talked of when we would meet again.

At Karen's place. With Margot. Would I still be willing to go along with what Karen decided to do with my hair? Ginger asked. Did I remember that she had said it was really quite sexy, from her point of view?

How could I forget!

I told her that I did intend to go along with the whole idea, so long as she still thought that way. To end up with a wedge cut that was growing, coloured deep auburn under a pastel blonde top section, that was what I was going to agree to have done – there was no surprise when I admitted to being nervous about the whole idea, uncertain that I should go through with it, but at the same time, fascinated and fixated by the whole process. The washing, the intimacy of the 'giving yourself over' to a stylist to 'do whatever she wanted'. The escalation from a wash and set, to rollers, then to a temporary colour, and a cut into a style that was anything but a 'boy's cut, then to what we were talking about now. All in a matter of a few weeks. All captured on camera – though we hadn't seen more than the first few shots.

"You'll come to love it", Ginger said – "I'm getting to like the whole idea already and you're really a "STAR" for going on as far as you have. There's ways that you can make it go slower. You can always say you want your hair to grow a lot more before anything major like the blonding. Honest. Karen will understand."

But did I want to slow down? Did I know where it was leading? No, of course not. It was just a great deal of fun, with girls that other guys weren't getting near. That was the bonus. It was easy to cash-in on the access that I was getting to these superb young women. I turned to Ginger again and simply said "Kiss me", please" and she did, deeply and over a prolonged period. Our tongues entwined, passions rising and yet, we had still progressed no further. We were alone, but the time for anything deeper wasn't there yet. I fancied Ginger more than ever. I had styled her hair. She had freshened my hair too, with the extra backcombing. We were ready to rock and roll! The dark of the evening and the interior of the nightclub enabled me to leave my hair exactly as she had left it; high on the crown, smooth to the sides, now over my cheeks, the cut to the neck exposed with the top section – still red – falling down and curling under, just a little. Heaven! We parted again, after more kisses and a promise to see eachother again very soon.

 

 

The planned "next evening" with the four of us was delayed. The next week, two of us, Ginger and Karen, had to be elsewhere. That would leave Margot and me; just the two of us. I found that just a teeny-bit scary, so pleaded "things to catch up on" in making my excuses on the phone. Margot seemed annoyed, in fact, I'm sure she was. "You should come round here to my home." She said "Well, you'd be missing out", was all she said when I refused. Missing out on what? Something to do with my encounter with her Mother was all I thought.

By the time we saw us as a foursome again, it was nearly a month later. Karen was full of the things she had learnt (and wanted to practice). The rest of us listened quite happily as she proudly told us of the new skills she was building. She was being trusted in the salon where she worked, with more and more relatively simple treatments. There was a "Models" scheme where customers could come in and have their hair done – like we were doing – for free, so long as they too didn't mind what was to be done. OK, they weren't offered colouring if they hadn't specifically asked for it, but most had a cut, many a blow-dry, and some a roller set.

Karen said a few had colours but she really wanted more experience in that department – so she was very much looking forward to tonight!

My heart was racing by now. Could I go through with the permanent colour, the bleaching and the toner? My hair was quite a bit longer now than when we had begun. The rollers that Karen had used first time would be completely wrong now. My hair would go quite frizzy if she were to roll me us so tight now. I could enjoy the softer curls that the larger rollers would give. The longer top section of my hair now covered my ears at the sides. The nape of my neck was visible in the mirror, but the hair from my crown came down to an inch or so above the nape. "Just the place to kiss" said Karen as she looked at what she had to work with now.

 

"Ginger and Margot will have the same as last time", she said "…because I need practice in those styles again – if that's ok with you two?" It clearly was.

 

"But you are going for something different, am I right?" she said, looking into my eyes in the styling mirror. "You are, aren't you!" It wasn't a question this time.

"………….your Wedge will look soooooooooooo cool!!!!" she exclaimed.

"Not until I know what colour of blonde I'm going to be, you're not doing anything!" I cried. "You said not yellow. You said pastel. What does that mean, for goodness' sake!?? I've see a hundred blondes this week – I can't take my eyes off them, but not for the usual reasons – I can't get out of my mind which I would be most like. You say not yellow, but not many are really yellow. Pastel could mean loads of different things – and I'm fascinated, but I'm not at all sure about this." She had to respond.

 

Margot said nothing. Ginger chipped in with "It's only fair – if he's going to be ash blonde, it's one thing. If he's going to be beige with a hint of strawberry, then it's very different." She was right. I had seen some really different shades that were clearly the result of a lot of thought and choice. Not for me the brassy haystacks that you do see, I thought. It could be white blonde. Then, it could be beige – I liked those I'd seen. It could be ….. oh so many shades. "Karen, what are you saying we should do?" I asked.

 

Karen began to speak but hadn't said more than "What I…" before Margot snapped "This is enough, you have to say if you're in this or your not. Never mind who has a plan or what could be done – you have no choice. Do you understand?" There was a venom in her eyes. She was taking over. Why be so harsh?

 

Margot went on. "OK then Karen, tell him about the competition and the reason for the portfolio of photos. You can let Ginger in on that secret too, because she knows nothing about either." Ginger's eyes and mine met – what was this all about?

 

With a rather apologetic smile, Karen explained that her workplace had entered her into a competition for Apprentice hairdressers and there were events coming up in which she would have to perform several processes and create styles using models. The evenings we had been meeting were proving to be better preparations that her salon work and she had no models from the salon – even thought they were getting people in for free hairstyles and colourings. She wanted us to be her models, and the first event was in about three weeks' time. Not much time for practice.

 

"More than that, I can't say." she said. "Apart from the need for there to be three models……"

"We have three……." interrupted Margot.

"Yes, but the event is for female hair…." said Karen, "….and we have two girls and a boy." Her words hung in the air.

 

It was then that the words from last time "either as a girl or a boy" began to take on a whole new meaning. Ginger was silent. Margot was too, at last.

 

I sat and thought for a moment that seemed like an hour. I sat with my dyed auburn hair, cut in a Wedge-cut with the crown still lifted by the rollers I had tried to put in myself this morning with some reasonable success. Another three weeks and it would have grown still more. I saw a boy in the mirror. A boy with a woman's hairstyle. Never mind how I wore it rough in the daytime, this was a very well presented style for a hairdresser's model to be wearing. A female model.

 

 

"It's a big thing to ask, I know" Karen said, breaking the silence, "… but I'd still like you to be in the event. You know, as my third model. You'd be on show and I'd quite understand…… There would be a lot of people there, from lots of different salons, together with people from the sponsors – who are a maker of Colourants."

 

"It's not a big thing to ask…" said Margot, harsh as ever, "……. It's what you agreed to – whatever Karen wants. Simple as that. You can look like a girl … or a boy …. – we've seen it – and you will do what Karen wants."

"Hold on a minute, that's really not fair – that's not anything like as far as he must have thought it might go when he said yes, originally." Ginger came to my defence. "It's a huge thing to ask."

"It's a big thing to ask, I know" Karen said again. "Look we don't need to decide tonight – we can just go on with what we were planning to do; just to take it easy for one time. Then next time, we can hear your decision after you've had time….."

"There just IS no time" said Margot. "You have to plan the styles and the colours you'll use – to be Apprentice of the Year starts here. There will be several heats and, if you don't get past the first one, the rest doesn't matter."

I had still said nothing. My mind was still racing. Sponsors? Colours? Lots of people? How had all this suddenly happened? But, then, here I still was, voluntarily. I had chosen to be here. I really liked what Karen had been doing, really…… I loved the way it had been bringing Ginger and me closer together. Margot was perhaps the only problem – nothing could satisfy her, it seemed. Really, I wasn't prepared to be bullied this time – she had misjudged me.

 

I was ready to respond and nearly began to speak for the first time in minutes, when Ginger offered her thoughts, which obviously mattered very much to me. She had been the one to defend me or at least give me time to think, by saying what was, and wasn't, fair to ask of me. Her words clinched the decision. But it wasn't what I had expected to say.

 

"Since we have been willing models in your practice sessions, Karen, we have all gone along with your ideas. Along the way, two of us have become a bit closer in other ways and we've liked being together. I don't want that to change. In fact, I want us to get closer together and all I wanted to say was that whatever your "third model" decides, he'll be very special to me either way. I won't think any less of him if he goes along with the things that you're now suggesting – or if he doesn't. I'm finding him increasingly sexy and could get a real hit from being next to him on your model stage, with us both having you do our hair. Karen, you should be pleased he's come this far, not be disappointed if he goes no further."

 

So, instead of refusing to go on, it turned into a willing agreement. I was committing myself to a whole different set of experiences that I had never imagined would come from a simple offer to have my hair washed by a girl friend who I fancied very much and who was starting a new job.

I still fancied her in a way, Karen that is, but I had come to be much more strongly attracted to Ginger. She, in turn was talking like it was such a sexy thing to be doing, that I couldn't stop myself saying "Then it's alright by me. I'll be one of your three models for the competition, if it means so much to you."

There was a sudden clamour of excitement from the three girls around me. In different ways, they each had a reason for some great enthusiasm. For Karen, it was that the competition would go ahead – she could stand a chance of going forward to a second round when, doubtless, she could choose another model to take my place. For Ginger, inexplicably, it was that we would be together, as Karen's models, and she had promised herself just how sexy that would feel - and how sexy that made me feel. For Margot, it was something different; something I couldn't quite make out. She didn't fancy me, that was certain - not I, her in the conventional sense. She had made clear that she rather fancied Karen more…… but we won't go into that here. No, it wasn't attraction towards me at all.

 

Karen felt she had more of an explanation to give. She started with a change of plan for this evening but explained it was a result of the rules of the competition. "There can be no major changes to your hair this evening. We're only three weeks away from the event and, on the night, the stylists have to be working on hair that is as natural as can be. That's so the judges can see the "before and after" on each model. They have to see her without any recent "big events" – like major changes of colour – and they don't want to see anyone with roots growing through from a colour treatment – and you'd have roots showing if we did what we planned tonight."

 

"Roots!!!!" I cried…… "I'd never thought of roots!"

"You'll get used to them." said Margot quietly.

"Don't worry, there will be none of them for you because we're not going to do any permanent colour tonight – but I thought you'd like another semi-permanent wash; that's last a bout 5-6 washes; just enough time to take us up to the event." She did have this planned, I thought, but what the hell?!

"Do I have a choice in the colour?" I asked, expecting the answer to be 'no'.

"You do, indeed." replied Karen. "Then let Ginger choose for me." I said.

"You're sure? How cool!" Ginger exclaimed. "Let's look at the shade chart!"

"Don't take too long –we have lots to do." were Karen's last words as she pulled Margot towards the washbasin. "For Ginger and Margot, it's the same as last time – more practice for me in the 'Big Hair' and the "Sleek Pleat" that I'll do for the competition. Margot's hair was washed and the rollers were going in by the time Ginger and I had finished selecting the colour I was to have on my hair this time.

Nothing lighter - that was to be saved for three weeks' time. Same colour all over, that would be fine. Different to the colour I'd have when Karen treated all three of us in front of an audience and a judging panel!

That ruled out reds. (Pity, I thought, I like myself as a redhead). Browns just didn't get my pulse going at all. That leaves black – you don't see many girls with truly black hair. What was it had been said to me? You can get black tones that are so black, they're blue black. Was there something so different as that? No, it would be too distinct – both for everyday (that was going to need some explaining!) and for the step change at the competition. No, it had to be brown. "How about the brown of your hair, Karen?" I said, intentionally flattering her. Hers was a rich dark brown and, though she had been many colours over the months I'd known her, it was one that suited her well. Her Page-boy Bob cut was shown off to great advantage by the sleek condition of her hair and the wonderful cut.

Margot's face was a study in rage – for quite what reason, I could guess. Flattering the object of her attentions, I was! She was obviously outraged but, to my amazement, said nothing. I was tempted to wind Margot up some more. Would I dare? Might be tempting fate. I decided not to. I had thought to say that her Page-boy was what I'd dream of ending up with – which could be true. But then, there was Ginger's gorgeous flowing tresses. How wonderful are they?!

"You could be right," Karen mused, "it would be more neutral and make a reasonable base for the changes you'll have on the night. We can do it with permanent or semi- permanent colour. Makes little difference." "Semi- would be quicker now, wouldn't it?" I said and Karen agreed. So that was the way it went that evening. My hair was given a dark brown wash that would last five or six times. Ginger had another stunning "Big Hairdo" and Margot had the Pleat once more. Her streaks were growing away from the scalp and would give a problem in another three weeks' time, I thought. Best to leave that to Karen to overcome.

I had still not seen many of the shots. "Next time", she said. "We'll have a good look through them. I have to choose the best for a display and they may get used in a press campaign about the Sponsor's involvement in the event. All three of you could have your faces in the magazines!"

How widely would my face appear, I wondered. Would I get recognized for who I was? I had been caused little embarrassment by the work so far. A few questions, that was all. I had been able to fend off deeper enquiries with ease. "It's just a post-College phase" was all I would say, with a laugh.

We parted that evening and I walked Ginger home. It wasn't far and the conversation was muted. We neither seemed to want to make the first major comment on what we'd agreed to. I was sure there would be more to it than simply sitting on a stage and having my hair done.

"Will you come in?" Ginger asked. "I think there's one aspect that hasn't been mentioned and it should've been." How could I not find out? I entered her flat with a quizzical look on my face. Was she party to a secret, or was she telling me something she knew that Margot and Karen felt I didn't need to know yet? It was all clear to me, or so I thought.

We sat and I was bursting to know what she knew – or thought she knew. "Tell me!"

Ginger was pensive. It took her time to choose her words.

"You do know that the competition is for female hairstyles, don't you – and you do know that you'll end up with a stunning, but distinctly female appearance? It's inevitable and that's what you've agreed to." She said. "And you do know, I love you for it – you're a real STAR!" Where was this leading? I answered that it was and I was pleased she thought I was… a star! But…………

"Well, with female hairstyles come female clothes and female make-up. You must have thought that through." Well, to tell the truth, I hadn't. In fact, when it dawned, as she said these words, it was the very first time that I had thought of the image I would have to present on the night. My clothes were always casual and never took much thought. I certainly didn't have any "girlie" things – if they were needed. As for make-up, that was another thing entirely. I couldn't possibly do that – I wouldn't know how, for a minute!

"These events are usually quite 'OTT' for want of a better term. The colours are always bolder, the make-up is always very pronounced, the atmosphere is electric. You'll have to get into the part. It can't be the first evening that you wear a skirt and blouse and the right underwear and some decent shoes. Nor can it be the first time that you've had make-up on, bold make-up at that!"

Clearly, I had no concept of the complete transformation that I would undergo. Clearly, I would have to look like a girl with a stunning hairstyle, not look like a hairdresser's model. Not only did I have to think about the consequences of the hairstyle and how to live with it afterwards, I had to deal with being somebody different through the whole process. I had to look as much of a girl as Ginger and Margot would be. Bold make-up, stunning hair……………… underwear? A dress and blouse? Shoes??? Where would I get all of these things in the right sizes?! And when? There was very little time. Still less time to get used to wearing them all. Panic was a good word to describe what I was feeling and Ginger instantly picked up on this.

"You'll need help, I know" came comforting words. I knew I couldn't go back now. I should've thought it through. "You'll have to have some make-up to get the feel of it. You'll have to try on some clothes. I've got some make-up that would be a start – though it won't be as bold as you'll need. And I've got some clothes that would be something like your size - I'm a size 14 and you might well fit some of my clothes, even though you're taller – it just means your skirts will be shorter. You can use my tights; that'll be fun for you. Shoes? We'll have to get larger ones than mine for you -with reasonable heels but not stilettos.

"It's late." I said rather numbly. "I have to go."

"Not before you taste some lipstick." Said Ginger. "You really should. It's quite wonderful and well worth getting used to. Let me put some on your lips. Now."

I was like putty in her hands. She reached for the slim tube that contained the Christian Dior lipstick. It was a wonderful peachy red, ideal for a redhead like her.

My eyes closed as the creamy stick passed over first my top lip, from the centre to the right, then from the centre to the left. Then across from side to side. Picking out the 'cupid's bow' in the centre. Then it went from left to right across my lower lip. Then from right to left. The taste was wonderful. Of course, I had tasted lipstick before when kissing girls. Never had I appreciated the intensity of the taste. The whole experience was unimaginable. You have to taste it for yourself – and immediately, I knew I would taste this again and again.

"They don't all taste as good as this one" said Ginger, clearly detecting the great enjoyment I was experiencing. "Not do they smell quite as good, either." She was right, there was both the taste and the smell to enjoy. Intense and memorable. There was no question, I would leave it no time at all before having the rush of adrenaline that was clearly running through my lips, my cheeks, my chest, may hands and everywhere else through my body. To some it could have been an orgasm, but then I knew what they were like and this wasn't one! But it was close. A first experience of a lipstick, at the hands of a girl I fancied to bits! How perfect was she!

"Now, we should see how it tastes on eachother." she said, putting the lipstick to her own lips and beginning to spread its colour, left and right, over her top and lower lips. Wonderful. Did it look as good on me as it did on her? I couldn't tell. But I desperately wanted our mouths to meet in a kiss that would last for ever.

She raised her hand to my neck and pulled my head towards her own. Her hands were spread over the short hair at the nape of my neck and the longer hair that came down from the crown of my head. She smoothed the hair as she pulled our lips together. Her hand ran down the length of my hair as we kissed.

 

TO BE CONTINUED…………………….

  

  

  

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