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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Emotional · #1234510
A protected young girl has the first `real' experience of her life
`So silky, so...soft.' Jean felt his breath on her neck, his hand in her hair. Her vision was blurring. Something rose within her, incorporeal, flaming, a sudden need for release. It scared her, with its intensity, its single-minded determination to live. He smelled of the French and alcohol and tobacco, but somehow the odor was overpoweringly delicious, seductive, intoxicating.

She leaned backwards, guided by his supporting hand. The leather seat beneath her pricked her skin in a thousand places, each sending a spasm of pleasure through her tingling body. Sweat was drenching her: she felt hot and cold and scared and excited. He was over her, laying her on the lowered support, removing her coat, struggled with the buttons. She tried to help, tangling her fingers with his, laughing nervously.

`Let me just get the...stuff.' He turned away, hunting furiously through his drawers. She felt her heart slamming into her ribcage. What would people say if they find out ? What would her friends say ? Oh God, can I really do this ?

`Listen, um, I'm not sure if...'

`Shh.' He placed a finger upon her lips, the other still searching. `No one has to know where you've been. What happened will show, as all such things do. But wasn't it meant to ? Don't worry, ma cherie. It will be incredible, I promise you.'

She smiled shyly. It was impossible to fight it, anyway. She had been dreaming of this for so long.

`Ahhh.' He got what he wanted, and showed it to her. It was still in its package. It looked quite different from what she'd seen.

`Wow. I've-never seen one like that before.'

`You can't find this on the shelves, baby.' He smiled gently and ripped off the cover. `You ready ?'

`Yes,' she whispered, `do it.'

`Okay.' He snapped the scissors open and shut. `Now do you want me to braid in some specific fashion or do I have carte blanche ?'

`I'm in your hands, Pierre. All I've known are fancy ass hair salons. God, I'd love to see my mother's face right now.'

`Don't worry about a thing, angel. After today , you will never go to any other hairstylist again.'
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