Salon Queen

Chapter 1

I finished up my last client, taking her through to reception to recommend her products, and hand her over to the receptionist to pay her bill. I said my goodbyes, and hot-footed it through to the staff room to claim my glass of wine, and a chair, ready for the staff meeting. The entire staff were there, with it being Saturday evening, and we just had to wait for the receptionist to lock the front door and join us, and we could find out the reason for the impromptu meeting.

Damien, the salon manager looked ill at ease when he stood to address us. "Guys, as you probably realise, the salon isn't doing quite so well lately. We've tried various marketing schemes, even a groupon offer to try and get new clients, but our accountants have told us that we're carrying too many staff for the revenue." Well, if you stopped giving it away for next to nothing on groupon, we might make a bit more profit, I thought. I kept quiet. "So I have to inform everyone that we're having to make three people redundant. Everyone will be put into the pool, and scored based on performance over the past year, then the three lowest scored will be informed. The process will take around a month. I'm sorry guys."

I looked around the room at my workmates. They all looked uncertain. Personally, I felt quite safe. I'd trained there originally, and worked to the 'Gavin Roberts' method. I also had an enormous clientele, and was usually the second biggest revenue earner in the salon.

"So who's gonna get the push?" Asked Belinda, our newest, and dopiest stylist. Probably you. "I don't think it's fair, I haven't had time to build up properly yet, I've only been here a year." She seemed blissfully unaware that a year was more time than most stylists got when it came to building a following. I wanted to tell her it was probably her habit of talking non-stop about her boyfriend, and his various issues with commitment, rather than her client's hair, that was the problem. Her refusal to retail didn't help either, as she assumed everyone was too poor to afford anything, which was quite rude really. Damien ignored her.

"Next week, each person will have a meeting with me, and asked if they'd like to opt for voluntary redundancy, so give that some thought, and I'll see you all next week." Damien dismissed us, not meeting anyone's eyes.

I pulled on my flat boots and coat, ready for the walk to the station. "I bet it'll be you," sneered Holly, the über-bitch. She never wasted an opportunity to be nasty to me. Unfortunately, she was the most popular stylist in the salon, and the only one to make consistently more than me.

"I'm sure there's other people in the firing line in front of me," I pointed out, smiling at her bitchy, rather put-on, pitying look.

"Not on your pay scale. Just think how much they'll save sacking you, and sharing out your clients. At least my clients insist that they'll only have me, and nobody else. My clients are totally loyal, unlike yours," she pointed out. About two years previous, I'd broken my ankle and been off for three months. During that time, the other stylists had looked after my clients. She took that as clients not caring who did them, rather than them being understanding of my predicament.

Matt was waiting for me at the station when I got off the train. "How was your day?" He asked. He only worked office hours, and seemed to think me working Saturdays was strange, even after a couple of years.

"Busy, all fine, until last thing. Damien told everyone he's going to have to reduce the staff by three people. All those cheap deals he did have dented profits."

"Do you think you'll be ok? Or could you get made redundant?"

"I doubt it. I wouldn't mind changing salons though, somewhere a bit more creative and high end. He said we could take voluntary redundancy if we wanted."

"I don't know if that's a good idea Lil, you have certain protections due to long service. If you changed to another salon, they could just sack you." Oh thanks, believe in me why don't you?

Matt followed me into the semi I shared with my parents and younger brother. He made himself comfy at the kitchen table, and listened as I told my mum what had happened. "Why not start looking for another job, just in case," mum advised, "if nothing happens next week, then all well and good, but at least you'll have a back-up plan."

"Mark, can you get off the computer for a little while please?" I asked my little brother. He sighed loudly, and slid off the wheelie chair, to give me access to the family desktop. I closed down YouTube, and googled 'hairdressing jobs, London'. There seemed to be pages of them, I flicked through, several catching my eye. "There's loads, look, Sassoon, Trevor Sorbie, and Gino Ventii are all advertising for stylists. That's just on the first page."

"You should get Lisa to check over your CV, update it a bit," advised mum. Lisa was my best friend, and was a secretary in a recruitment company. She was bound to know about CVs.

"Are we going out tonight?" I asked Matt, knowing full well that the answer would be 'no'. Matt was in the throes of buying his first studio flat, and was saving obsessively. As I predicted, he shook his head.

"Sorry Lily, even with a two for one coupon, dinner at Zizzi's would still be over twenty quid. I had to pay for the survey today. There's always an excuse, I thought, determined not to offer to pay. Recently, I paid for everything so that the tightwad could squirrel his money away for a flat that would be solely in his name. In his defence, we'd only been together two years, and I had an appalling credit rating due to not earning for those three months in a plastercast, and a boob job that I'd struggled to pay for. "Your mum's chilli is better than fancy restaurant food anyway," he asserted, as mum plonked plates of chilli and rice down in front of us.

Matt borrowed my iPhone to see what was on telly that evening, announcing the programs that he wanted to watch through mouthfuls of rice. "I might give Lisa a call if you're just gonna be watching telly all evening," I told him. He looked a little hurt.

"These are the programs that you like to watch Lily, what would you prefer to do then?" He demanded, a little edge to his voice. If I was being truthful, I would've said that I wanted to go out clubbing in London, after listening to Holly all day, telling her clients about some fancy bar and club she'd visited, which had sounded impossibly glamorous and fun. I bet she doesn't sit indoors watching x-factor on a Saturday night, I thought. I knew it would be pointless expecting Matt to take me to the Kensington Roof Gardens. All that'd happen would be him asking for tap water, and bitching about the prices. Even Lisa, my very best friend, wouldn't go somewhere like that, claiming to be too uncomfortable about her weight to get dolled up.

She turned up that evening, wearing a onesie and slippers, repeating her delight that she didn't have to get 'dressed up' to visit, having been coming round to ours since she was three. We left Matt sitting with my parents watching Ant and Dec, and sat at the computer to write a killer CV.

Between Lisa and I, we really jazzed up my résumé. I listed out all the courses I'd attended since graduating college, and Lisa thought up an excellent mission statement along the lines of me wanting to continue growing professionally. She even found a great photo of me on Facebook, efficiently cropped Matt out, and added it to the top corner.

Once it was all done, I sent it off to five salons, filling in their online applications as I went. "One of those has gotta get you an interview," said Lisa, "I can't see you having any issues finding a new job, what with being the best hairdresser in the world 'n' all that."

I smiled gratefully. Lisa had been my very first client/victim, patiently sitting for hours as I struggled through my first ham-fisted attempts at cutting. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" I asked.

"Course you are. You're way too good at your job to hang around in Gavin Roberts forevermore. I know it's near Victoria, but it's not true West End hairdressing. There's no way you should be doing groupon Tuesdays and student Wednesdays. You should be doing hipsters and celebrities."

The program must have finished, because mum came in to make cocoa, and Matt came to see what we were up to, and remind us that Big Brother was just about to start. He read through my new CV, smiling at the photo, and agreed with Lisa that it was really good.

He stayed over that night, as was normal on a Saturday night. I snuggled into him, careful not to 'crowd him', which he hated. He had issues with intimacy, and although he enjoyed sex, it had to be on his terms, with everything staying the same, done in the same order. Thankfully, I quite enjoyed our little routine, and Matt often remarked that we shagged 'efficiently', both successfully reaching orgasm with minimum effort on his part, or disruption of sleep on mine. If I was truthful, I'd admit that it was a little 'pipe and slippers', but I couldn't muster up the enthusiasm to change it.

So there we were, lights off, fumble fumble, tweak tit, condom on, then a bonk that generally lasted around ten minutes. I'd come, then him, and he'd pass me a tissue. Afterwards, he'd roll over and doze off. Matt didn't do cuddling.

I lay awake in the darkness, trying to analyse what was bothering me. Nothing had changed, Matt was just doing what we did every weekend. Lisa was just being Lisa, my fat, funny, best friend. The problem clearly lay with me. Maybe a new job will provide all the change I'm craving.

The next morning, Matt went off to his usual Sunday morning football practice, and I joined mum in a trip into Bromley for a mooch about. We were sitting in Café Rouge, having a latte and a sit down, when I pulled out my phone to check my emails, seeing straightaway that there was one from Gino Venti. I opened it, and read through it, skimming past the pleasantries. "I have an interview, mum, and it's tomorrow!" I squealed, thrusting my phone into her face for her to read it. She took the phone from my hand, and read it through carefully.

"Tomorrow at three o'clock. Lucky it's your day off. Where is it?"

"Bond street, well, South Molten Street. Right in the heart of the West End. It's a really glamorous salon, think they featured in hairdresser's journal a few times. I'll have to look really trendy."

"Best we have a look in Karen Millen then. Just don't tell your father."

"You're the best," I beamed. Mum had always wanted to be a hairdresser, but had never realised her dream, mainly due to marriage and babies getting in the way. She was a great supporter though, and we enjoyed secret splurges on dad's credit card every now and then, usually when I need to look the part for something.

Two hundred quid later, I had a new outfit, and new shoes, ready for the following day. We smuggled it all into the house, past Dad, who was snoring on the sofa. I carefully cut off all the tags, and hung it all up to keep it pristine.

Mum and I nipped round to see Aunt Doris for an hour after dinner, taking a bag of food, and some Tupperware boxes of dinners that mum had made and frozen, for her to heat up during the week. Strictly speaking, she was my great aunt, my mum's father's sister. She hadn't had children of her own, and after her husband had died, relied quite heavily on mum. She was a game old girl though, quite good company, and still had all her marbles, even though she was in her eighties. In recent years, she'd got a bit wobbly on her pins, so needed a bit more help than she used to.

Mum sorted out the kitchen, and put a wash on, while I quickly hoovered and dusted. It wasn't a large house, so we were able to get it freshened up quite quickly. I told Doris all about my interview, and my new outfit, while I carefully dusted all the niknaks on the mantelpiece.

"You aim as high as you can Lily. You're going to be a long time sitting in front of a fire when you're old. Do as much as you can now, while you're young. I'm grateful for all the good memories I have." She gazed wistfully at her gas fire as she spoke.

"Out dancing on a Saturday night?" I prompted.

"Of course, and more besides. I was a bit of a girl in my day you know. The war was over, and all we wanted to do was have fun. So many people had been killed and maimed, that we felt as though we had to party even harder, you know, to make up for what they missed out on. Plus of course, we'd all grown up with the rationing and deprivation, so it felt wonderful to drink, eat and dance without a care in the world." She smiled to herself, before whispering; "of course, the men were all sex starved, and desperate. It was a great time to be a pretty girl."

"I bet. Mind you, it was all a bit more staid in those days, wasn't it?"

She laughed. "Not really, the only difference was that you had to get married if you got pregnant. Human nature never changes Lily, it's why you should grab life with both hands, and never settle for second best." She changed the subject when Mum came in bearing a pot of tea, and a plate of biscuits.

Matt was sitting watching telly with Dad when we got home. He smiled at the news that I had an interview. "That's great, at least if the worst happens, you won't be out of work. Your fares'l be a little more though. Bond street's a tube ride as well as the train, so don't forget to factor that in when you're discussing pay."

"I won't. Tell you what, shall I meet you from work tomorrow? Seeing as I'll be up there already. We could go for a drink before we come home."

"Nah, costs a fortune for a pint up there. Better off getting a pack of Buds in the supermarket." He went back to his telly program, not noticing me pulling a face at him, and slumping down onto the sofa next to him. I was getting seriously ticked off with his 'every penny counts' philosophy, which he'd always had, but had become magnified with his flat purchase. I couldn't really understand it, he earned great money, had loads of savings, and would still have plenty left after paying his new mortgage each month. He was behaving as though he'd be poverty stricken.

I was quite relieved when he went home, saying he needed an early night, in preparation for the week ahead. "Are you and Matt alright?" Mum asked, frowning.

I sighed. "Yeah, I'm just getting a bit fed up with how tight he is all the time. We seem to sit indoors every night. Feels like we're an old, married couple."

"I'm sure he'll be better when he's actually got that flat, and got used to paying a mortgage. He's probably just a bit nervous about it," counselled Dad.

The next day, I awoke with a tummy full of butterflies. I spent an inordinately long time doing my hair, and was ready by mid-day, and pacing around, waiting till it was time to leave. My phone chirped, making me jump. It was only Lisa, wishing me luck, and saying she'd be round later to hear all about it.

I decided to leave early, just in case a train was delayed or cancelled, or I got lost. I checked my bag, making sure I had my purse, keys, phone, and travelcard, and debated whether or not I needed to take my scissors. They hadn't said I'd be trade testing, but they also hadn't said I wouldn't. I slipped them in anyway, just in case. Satisfied that I was organised, and looked suitably fashionable in my new outfit, I set off.

I'd got used to the noise and dirt of central London during the years working at Gavin Roberts. Compared to the area around Victoria, South Molten street seemed quiet and genteel. I was still early, so found a little coffee shop to sit in, and watch the world go by, until it was time to impress. I sipped my latte, as my nerves really kicked in. As I watched impossibly groomed, beautifully dressed women wander past, carrying designer shopping bags, I felt gauche and provincial. Snap out of it Lily, these women need people like you to keep their polished personas alive, I told myself.

At five to three precisely, I walked down to Gino Venti. I hadn't been sure whether or not it would even be open on a Monday, but I could see that it was indeed open, and buzzing in there. A Mediterranean looking girl was behind the reception desk. She greeted me with a broad smile. "Hello, welcome to Gino Venti, how may I help you?"

"I'm here for an interview with Gray Parker," I said. She looked at her screen.

"Lily Hollins?" I nodded. "Gray's expecting you. Please take a seat, and I'll tell him that you're here. Can I get you a drink of anything?" I shook my head. I really didn't want to have to manoeuvre a cup and saucer as well as my handbag and my feet. She went off, presumably to get Gray. I sat down on the cream leather sofa, and looked around the reception area, checking out the products. There was only one product line that I wasn't pretty expert on, the rest I'd already done extensive product knowledge training with. The rest of the reception area was pretty swanky. The desk itself looked as though it was carved out of limestone, with a brushed steel G V logo mounted on the front of it. The magazines were all this month's Vogue and Tatler. Not an old or cheap one to be seen.

"Gray won't be a minute." The receptionist said, making me jump. I'd been so engrossed in checking out the salon, I hadn't seen her come back. A few moments later, a tall, lean, man walked though with a client. He reeled off a list of her services to the receptionist, and picked a few bottles off a shelf to place on the desk in front of the client. I watched as she kissed him on both cheeks, and turned to pay her bill.

"Lily Hollins? I'm Gray Parker, pleased to meet you." I stood up, and shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you too. Her hair looked lovely." I nodded towards the client.

"First compliment, and you haven't even left the salon yet, Maggie," he called out to the glamorous blonde, "that's an extra ten quid on the bill."

The client giggled. "You're such a tease Gray. Alright, I'll pop an extra tenner in your tip jar. Do you pay that lady to say nice things?" An extra tenner? Jeez.

"Seriously, your hair looks lovely," I told her, "the colour's beautiful." For all her cut glass accent, and designer clothes, the woman seemed really friendly and nice. She smiled and thanked me, and I followed Gray through to the main salon. There were two stylists working, and a few clients sitting with colour taking.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be open on a Monday," I said.

"Oh yes, we're open seven days a week. There's only so many clients we can fit in the salon in one go, so we have to open long hours to accommodate everyone."

I followed him through to a tiny office, taking a seat opposite him. He was one of those rather beautiful looking men, tall and lean, but not thin, with a crooked smile, and extremely stylishly cut, short hair. He was also wearing head to toe Prada. I guessed his age at around forty. "So, Lily, what made you apply to us?"

"I need to progress as a hairdresser, and your salon is pretty well known. I saw the article in Hairdressers Journal, and figured that this salon's where it's all happening right now."

"You've been at Gavin Roberts a long time? Trained there, and all that. It's a great salon, so why do you want to leave?" His eyes bored into me. I couldn't exactly say 'because I'm bored, because I hate Holly the bitch, because I'm doing five pound groupons due to my fuckwit manager accidentally selling two thousand of them to every tightwad bargain seeker in London'.

"My ambition is to be a top West End hairdresser, and I need to move out of my comfort zone to be able to achieve that." Good answer Lil, pat on the back for that one.

"I see. What's your specialism?"

"Cutting, but I vardered in both cutting and colouring. I can do all of it to an extremely high standard."

"I saw that on your CV. How come you vardered twice?"

"I had the opportunity, and took it. I wanted to be able to do every aspect of hair, not just one thing. It's also why I took on so many additional courses," I said.

He nodded. "It's very impressive. Must have taken up a lot of your spare time?"

"I didn't mind. Most of the courses were so interesting that it never worried me, doing them on my days off. I don't have kids or anything to worry about, so can purely concentrate on my love of hair." I slipped that in, in case he wanted to ask, but was wary of the rules governing asking about kids.

"I see. Have you got a portfolio?" I pulled the file out of my bag, and handed it to him. It held all my precious certificates, as well as photos of the work I did to achieve them. He flicked through it, pausing at a picture of a colour I did as my entry for Redken young stylist of the year contest. "This is good. What did you use?"

I reeled off the formula, and placement technique. He seemed quite impressed. "Did you win?" He gestured to the picture.

"Came second," I replied, feeling a blush rise up my neck. I wished I'd been able to boast being 'young hairdresser of the year', but I wasn't.

"So the judge was a blind arsehole then?" He smiled at me.

"The winner's style was beautiful. If I'm honest, he won fair and square."

Gray looked up, and regarded me intently. "He works here. The one that won."

"Really? He's fantastic." I remembered a bleach blonde, slightly tubby feminine boy, screeching when the winner had been announced.

"Don't tell him that, he's bloody impossible as it is. We'd need a crowbar to get his head out the door." Gray smiled. "So Lily, what about your expectations?"

"I don't really know what to expect to be honest. I'm a hard worker, a team player, and a good hairdresser. I can build a clientele pretty fast, and my client retention runs at about 90%."

"Ok, let me tell you about how we work. It's fairly unique because we don't have strict hours as such. Everyone works on a 40% commission, so we all work long hours. There's no basic, so if you sit around in the staff room, or take an afternoon off, there's no pay. Bear in mind a cut and dry starts at a hundred quid, you can see why we all put the hours in. We all choose our two days off each week six weeks in advance, so that bookings can be made ahead."

"Is it busy?" I was beyond curious.

"Extremely. We turn people away every day, which breaks my heart."

"Sounds brilliant."

"A lot of people like set hours, set pay, and the same day off every week. It's not for everyone. I take it you can be quite flexible?"

"Oh yes. There's nothing holding me back."

"Good, now, trade test. I don't suppose by any chance you brought your scissors?"

"Yes I did. Would you like me to stay and work this afternoon? Show you what I can do?"

"That would be brilliant. I'll show you where to put your bag, and orientate you with the salon."

I stowed my handbag in a locker, and followed Gray back out to reception, where he introduced me to Paulina, the receptionist, and asked her to book me some clients. "What time do you need to get away?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I don't. Book what you like."

Paulina beamed at me. "Great. I've got a list of people waiting on cancellations. Anything I shouldn't book?" Gray shook his head.

"She's an all-rounder. A rare breed." He smiled at me, and wandered over to greet his next client, who was waiting patiently on the sofa.

Within half an hour, I was working on a head of highlights, then a client while the colour was taking. I was painfully aware of the other stylists watching me closely, and Gray assessing everything I was doing. I just tried to relax into it, and work as if I was in Gavin Roberts. In total, I did three clients, each one getting a restyle, advice, and a bag of retail added onto their bill. By the time I'd finished, it was nearly seven, and the others were all finishing up too.

"Let's go over the road for a drink and discuss how you've done," said Gray, as I put on my coat, and said goodbye to the others. He spoke briefly to Paulina, before steering me out, and a few doors down to a swanky looking wine bar.

"I'm meeting my husband in about half an hour, so what would you like to drink?" Husband? Oh, I geddit.

"Could I have a white wine please?" I wondered if I should offer to pay, but Gray had gone to the bar before I could say anything. While I was waiting, I tried to tot up my takings in my head, but as I didn't really know their prices, it was impossible to work out.

Gray placed a glass in front of me, and sat down opposite. "So how was that for you?" He asked.

"Good thanks. I enjoyed it. The salon's lovely to work in."

"You looked comfortable. Your work's very good by the way. I think you're a bit wasted working for Gavin Roberts."

"Thank you."

"Your takings today were 440 services and 180 retail. You get ten percent of retail by the way." I nodded. "We take off the VAT, then you get 40%, so that's 140.80 plus 18 retail. I make that 158.80. Not bad for three and a half hours work." He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, and counted off a hundred and sixty quid.

"I didn't expect to get paid for a trade test," I spluttered. He shoved the money across the table to me.

"So, when can you start?"

"It depends. They might want me to work my notice, they might want me to go straightaway." I paused, "so does this mean that I've got the job?"

He smiled, "Of course. Quite a coup, getting first and second place winners of the Redken hairdresser of the year. Tomme, the winner, he's fantastic, but he's more of a princess than you'll ever be."

I sipped my wine, and looked around the bar. It was one of those achingly trendy places that I'd been desperate to try. The other patrons seemed wealthy and hip. I was grateful for my new outfit. Gray chatted about the other stylists, who were all male. I'd be the only girl. "Does Gino still work?" I asked.

Gray shook his head. "He retired a few years ago. Paulina's his niece, she looks after the salon for him, and I manage all the staff and clients, the actual hairdressing part really. Paulina just handles the money. She's quite good though, for a non-hairdresser, runs the reception really well."

I finished my drink just as a handsome, suited man approached us. He bent down to kiss Gray's cheek. "Chris, this is Lily, our new stylist." I shook his hand, and stood to leave.

"I'd better be getting off. I'll call you as soon as I know what date I can start."

"You don't have to rush off, if you'd like another drink?" Chris said. I glanced at my watch, it was nearly quarter to eight.

"I'd better get going, they'll all be wondering where I am."

As soon as I got on the train, I switched on my phone, to find various text messages from Mum, Lisa and Matt, all wondering where I was. I called Mum, and told her the good news, and see if someone could pick me up from the station.

Over a celebratory cup of tea, I told them all about my afternoon. Lisa and my parents were all made up for me, but Matt had to pour cold water over my triumph. "I don't think commission only is legal Lily, they need to fix proper working hours, and at least pay minimum wage. Are you expected to pay your own tax? Or do they put you on PAYE?"

I gave him a hard stare. "I just earned £160 in three hours Matt, I hardly think I should be whining about minimum wage, and Gray made it quite clear that there isn't fixed hours."

"You should be paid double time for Sundays," he said, rather sulky at my refusal to take his advice.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not on an hourly rate. Listen Matt, are you pleased for me or not?"

"Of course I am, I just don't want to see you exploited."

I exploded. "How can 40% of everything I do be exploitation? You once worked out that if I worked mobile, it'd only be 50% profit after the costs, so how on earth do you think that providing a salon in Bond street and a hefty price list, along with as much retail as I can possibly sell, and a steady stream of clients equals exploitation? Would you rather I carried on in Gavin Roberts at seven quid an hour?"

"At least it's pay if you're quiet."

"I slog my guts out. I'm never quiet, so your argument doesn't stack up."

"I just can't see you earning much, 40% of nothing is still nothing Lily, and I'm not having you sponging off me."

I stood up, feeling my fury rising. "I think you'd better go. Considering I've never asked you to pay for anything, and you're way too tight to even offer, I won't accept being called a gold digger."

"Lily, calm down," said Lisa, who was watching proceedings.

"No I won't calm down. I put up with sitting in every night, so that he can save every penny for his stupid flat, and when I finally get the chance to realise my dream, he behaves as though I'm not good enough." I turned back to Matt, "I think you need to go and find a nice girl, who won't outshine you, and is happy to sit indoors counting pennies with you. This isn't for me."

"You're making a big mistake, nobody will ever care for you as much as me. I guess I didn't realise my affection was measured by how much I spend on you," he huffed.

"Just go, please. Take your stuff too. I've had enough Matt." I sagged into my chair, relief flooding through me at finding the excuse to end it. Mum and Dad stayed silent, rather wisely not getting involved. I knew they liked Matt, but seeing as they didn't try and talk me round, it appeared that they agreed with my decision.

Chapter 2

After Matt had stomped off, mum had remarked that she didn't blame me for my decision. While Lisa typed out my resignation letter, dad made another tea, and asked if I was ok, saying that I was best off finding a man who supported me, rather than put me down. With my new job, it all felt pretty life changing, and exciting.

I felt a bit strange, going into work the next morning, my resignation letter in my handbag. I collared Damian, and asked for a meeting. We were both free at 12, so the time was booked out. It meant that I had all morning for my nerves to build. Even Holly the über bitch loudly telling her clients about her Saturday night out at Mahiki failed to upset me.

The second client of the day was a cheapskate groupon, with big ambitions for her hair. My stomach sank as she declared; "I want a whole new look, something bouncy and full, but I don't want it puffy. I don't want any length cut, no layers, and I don't want a fringe." She looked at me expectantly, her silicon-coated, lank hair hanging in straggles. I sighed.

"So, let me get this right, you don't want anything cut, but you want a new look?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Am I allowed to trim the ends?"

"I want a restyle," she asserted, "that's the coupon I paid for."

"It's hard to do a restyle without cutting it."

"Oh you can cut it, but not the length or the layers." Are you shitting me?

"Right, so which bit can I actually cut? You just ruled out every hair on your head." Her face dropped.

"Can't you restyle it without cutting it short?"

"Of course I can, but I'll have to cut something, otherwise it'll just look the same."

In the end, I persuaded her to go for some long layers. It felt like a ridiculous amount of work for just five quid. The tight cow even refused a coffee, in case she had to pay extra. By the time I'd finished, I was at boiling point. "It doesn't look very different," tight cow remarked.

"Well, it's about as different as you're gonna get, taking off the minimum of hair, refusing a colour, and using cheap shampoo which weighs it down." I asserted.

"For five pounds, I would have thought a colour should be free," she said. I laughed at her, much to her dismay. I couldn't wait to get out of that salon.

At twelve, Damian and I went into his office. "So, Lily, you wanted to see me?"

"I'd like to opt for voluntary redundancy," I blurted out.

"I see. Why's that?"

"Because I'm sick of working on groupons, sick of Holly being nasty, and you asked for people to opt for redundancy," I said, "you could share out my clients, and save my wage."

"Are you sure? I wasn't trying to force you out."

"Very sure."

"Let me make a phone call to my accountant, find out what you're entitled to, and I'll let you know by the end of today."

Halfway through the afternoon, Damian called me back into the office. "I spoke to the accountant. He's told me that you'd be entitled to five weeks pay as redundancy, but there's a problem with your notice period."

"What sort of problem?" I asked.

"In your contract it states that you're entitled to one weeks notice for every year worked. Unlike redundancy, it goes back to the start, so that's ten weeks notice." My heart sank. "What he suggested, is if you want to go straightaway, that we agree to ten weeks pay in total. It would free you to get another job, and save us having to make you work another ten weeks. We just can't afford to lay out 15 weeks pay in one go."

"I'd agree to that," I told him, my stomach flipping.

"Ok, go tell reception to move everyone over to Belinda, and gather up all your stuff. I'll quickly type up the agreement." He couldn't meet my eyes.

I grabbed a carrier bag from the staff room, and, after informing Laurie on the desk, I started stuffing my brushes into the bag. "Been sacked?" trilled Holly.

"Me? Don't be daft. Opted for voluntary redundancy. Bigger and better things Holly." I beamed at her scowling face, staying tight lipped when she asserted that I'd never get another job. Disgruntled at not getting a reaction, she turned back to her client. When I'd made sure that I had everything packed, I went back to the office. Damian presented me with two copies of the letter stating that I'd forgo some notice in exchange for immediate release. I read through carefully, and satisfied, signed both copies, as did he.

"Your pay and P45 will be processed on your normal payday, which is Thursday. You'll get the full amount then. Lily, I'm sorry about all this, I would never have got involved with that coupon site if I'd known..." He trailed off.

"Damian, you didn't do it deliberately, and I need a change if I'm honest. Those clients....it's dragging me down...I need to move on, somewhere different."

"I understand. You should be somewhere that supports your creativity. I know a star when I see one. I fully expect to see you in 'hair' magazine someday." He hugged me. "You take care Lil, don't take any shit eh?"

I said my goodbyes to everyone except Holly, and stepped out of the salon for the last time. For some inexplicable reason, I felt shocked, unable to believe that I'd actually done it, resigned from my steady job to begin an adventure.

While I was waiting for my train at Victoria, I called Gray to tell him that I'd be free immediately. "Excellent news. Do you want to start tomorrow? Or would you rather have a day off?"

"I can start tomorrow, if that's ok?"

"Fantastic. You need to bring a copy of your passport or driving licence for our records, your national insurance number, and your diary so we can program you a schedule. Need your bank details too. Can you get here for nine?"

"Yep, no problem." My head was spinning slightly.

"Great, I'll let Paulina know. She'll be delighted. Gotta go, client waiting." He rang off.

I hurried home, and sorted out all the documents I'd need for the next day. I even found time to nip into Bromley and get my nails done. I popped in to see Aunt Doris on my way home to tell her my news.

She clapped her hands together, and beamed as she congratulated me. "And what has Matt had to say about it?"

"I dumped him. He was horrible to me, thought that I'd fail, and should stay at Gavin Roberts."

"Good. That boy was tighter than a gerbil's arse. Not the right man for you dear. Never seemed to notice how lucky he was, to be with you."

"He was always careful, but since setting his sights on buying that flat, he just got impossible."

"I'm not really talking about that dear, he just never seemed....passionate about you. You should look for the man that desires you above all others, not someone who sneers at your achievements, and would rather spend Sunday morning on a muddy pitch than in bed with you."

"Well, he's history. Next time, I want an Adonis with a six pack and a generous disposition." Aunt Doris laughed loudly. I wasn't even joking, Matt had a serious case of moobs, and a pot belly.

Lisa came over that evening to keep me company while I got myself ready for the next day. She sat on my bed as I did my eyebrows, and applied a tan. "Have you spoken to Matt?" she asked.

"Nope," I replied, "and I don't intend to. We weren't in love or anything like that. I think we just settled down together too soon."

"I think he loves you, well, he stayed with you for two years, which is always a good sign," Lisa pointed out. "Do you want to try Internet dating? I've found some quite decent men on there."

"You've been Internet dating?" I asked, incredulous.

She grinned. "Yep, been on two dates so far, and got another one tomorrow night. All different men of course."

"Lisa Fitch, you dark horse! You never told me you were going on dates." I'd actually only known Lisa to have one boyfriend, and he turned out to be a bit of a loser, who tried to scam her out of money.

"Yeah well, I met them on that 'Voluptuous Venus' site. At least the fellas know that a twig won't turn up. I liked the one who took me out last week, Dave. He described himself on the site as a feeder, and took me for a carvery. Was a bit off putting having him watch me take every mouthful though."

"And this one tomorrow night?" I was struggling to keep a straight face.

"His name's Tony, and he just says in his profile that he likes bigger girls. He's a butcher, and lives in Orpington. Seems quite nice."

"Where're you going?"

"Meeting in the Bell, then maybe go on from there." She picked up my tweezers and proceeded to work on her eyebrows, her tongue sticking out to the side, as she often did when concentrating. By the time she'd finished, her brows were bright pink. "They'll have gone down by tomorrow," she said confidently.

I was up extra early the next morning, and made the early train. I frowned at a text from Matt, wishing me luck, wondering how he'd found out I was starting my new job. I picked up a latte from Starbucks to take in with me, partly to kill a little time, and partly to warm my hands. I arrived at half eight, concerned that I'd be waiting outside, but the lights were already on.

"Welcome Lily, hope you'll be happy here," said Paulina, smiling widely. "All the others are in the staff room. I booked you from half nine, so we have time to fix your schedule after you've said hello to everyone."

I smiled back at her, and went through to the back of the salon, passing two juniors who were busy folding towels at the basins. Walking into the staff room, I heard a screech. "A stylist with a vagina!! I'm so excited!" It came from the youngest man in there, the same one I'd seen win the 'young stylist' crown. He was still bleach blonde, but had clearly been dieting since the last time I'd seen him. He was beaming at me, not in the least bit aware that I might be offended. "I adored that copper ombré you did for the competition. I was convinced you'd win," he gushed.

"If you hadn't blown that judge in the gents beforehand, she might've done," interjected a handsome, tanned Adonis.

"Shut your gob, bitch, I didn't blow anyone. I won fair'n'square." He turned to me, "don't take any notice of that gobshite, I'm Tomme, pleased to meet you." He kissed both my cheeks. Gray stood to introduce me to the others. The tanned Adonis was Anthony, he gave me a rather awkward little hug. A tall, dark, rather serious looking man was introduced as Trystan, and finally, a muscular, shaven headed man as Michael. I'd met Trystan and Michael at my trial afternoon, so just nodded hello.

"I put you in the section nearest the basins," said Gray, " and organised a trolley for you. "I'm sure you'll be fine, but just ask if there's anything you can't find. Lottie and Tula are our juniors today, and they'll help you if you need it."

"You'll find Tula a bit more helpful than Lottie," said Michael, "ask that miserable little moo to do anything, and you'll get a dirty look and a half assed job done."

I laughed, "I'll bear that in mind. Have we got a busy day today?"

"Every days a busy day here," said Trystan. "Tomorrow's gonna be a bloody nightmare. It's the national telly awards, so all of us are rammed out. It'll be hell with all those dozy starlets demanding something 'unique', when we gotta churn out at least twelve each. Please tell me you can put hair up?"

"Yep, no problem. I'll try and come up with some different ones tonight. Do we carry fake hair in stock?" I looked at Gray.

"There's a full selection in the cupboard next to the colours. The prices are marked on them. Just hand the empty packet to Paulina at the end, so that she can re-order."

At nine, the others were called out to start their clients, and Gray and I completed the paperwork, signing my new contract, and sorting out payday details. Afterwards, I sat with Paulina, and went through the next six weeks, fixing my two days off each week. As I had nothing planned, I was able to work around the days that the others had already chosen. I also saw that I had rather a lot already booked in.

The day seemed to flash by in a blur, the clients being pleasant and easy going. Before I knew it, it was half seven, and we were all finishing up. I went to the staff room to get my bag and coat.

"Who's up for a drinky?" Said Trystan. Tomme hooked his arm around my shoulder.

"Come on Lily, we're all going to the wine bar down the road. You've got to come, it being your first day. We need to find out all about you."

"He just wants to know if your tits are real or not," laughed Michael, "not that he's ever seen a tit in real life."

"I have. I'll have you know I saw my friend Julie in the nude once," said Tomme, affronted. "It was a bit gross though."

We were all given little printouts of our days takings as we left, everyone calling out a cheery goodbye to Paulina and Gray on our way out. "How come they aren't joining us?" I asked.

"Gray'l be down in a bit, but Paulina's a bit iffy around gay men. Don't think she knows how to take all the tuna jokes," Trystan explained.

"I see," I replied, unsure whether or not I wanted to listen to tuna jokes either. I followed them down the street to 'The Bond Street Wine Bar', which was a delightful, and expensive looking place. We all settled ourselves at a table, and agreed to order a bottle of red, and one of white. Trystan perused the wine list, and ordered a bottle of Chardonnay and a Merlot, which he said was 'exceptional'. "Are you a wine buff then?" I asked.

He smiled at me, "Of course. I pride myself on my wide and varied interests."

"He only does it so he can chat up sophisticated men," Michael interjected, "he's beyond desperate for a husband."

"And you're not, bitch?" Trystan teased. "Michael hangs around gyms the whole time, thinks he's gonna pull a muscle Mary, and live happily ever after."

"Have you got a boyfriend Lily?" Michael asked. I shook my head.

"I was seeing someone, but I dumped him a few days ago. It just wasn't working. He was too suburban and staid for me." I felt a little disloyal discussing Matt with them, but as I had no intention of going back to him, I thought being honest with my workmates was the best policy.

"We have loads of single men come into the salon, you'll definitely meet someone nice," said Tomme.

"Oh, I don't date clients." I'd learnt that lesson the hard way, dating someone after cutting his hair, before I'd met Matt. It'd been a disaster, and I'd lost a client over it. Gray arrived, and pulled up a chair, while Tomme poured him a glass of red.

"We've got a heavy day tomorrow guys," he said, before taking a sip of his wine. "A few more rang this evening in desperation, apparently Pierre at Ten Hair is down with flu, so all his clients are scrabbling around for a hairdresser tomorrow." The others all groaned.

"A day of dozy starlets then. Who drew the short straw for Helen Woodman?" Tomme asked.

"Paulina booked her in with Lily." He turned to me. "She's a bit high maintenance." The others all sniggered.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," I said, dismissing their smirks casually.

"Wonder how coked up she'll be?" Michael mused. "Mind you, she might be alright with Lily. It seems to be what she delightfully calls 'faggots' that enrage her. She's usually polite to Paulina."

While they were all discussing Ms Woodman's homophobia, I looked around the bar. The decor was a curious mix of old and new. Beautiful wood panelling on the walls contrasted with a huge, state of the art bar, with bottles of obscure spirits displayed on mirrored shelves, and backlit to create a futuristic display. I glanced across to see a handsome, fair haired man watching me intently. He was perched on a barstool, sitting alone. I smiled tentatively at him, and watched as he raised his glass to me.

"Looks like you won't need to chat up a client," said Tomme, who had noticed proceedings. "I do believe you're being ogled, and he's rather gorgeous. I'd do him."

"You'd do anyone, slut," teased Anthony. "I've cut his hair a few times. His name's Julian. I'm sure he owns this place."

"Hetero?" I asked.

"Sadly," Antony replied, "it's such a bloody waste."

The bar had filled up considerably by the time we needed more wine, so rather than hang around for the waitress, Anthony went up to the bar to fetch another two bottles. I watched as Julian greeted him warmly. They chatted for a few minutes, before Julian motioned to the barman, and leaned across the bar to say something.

"So, Lily, your tits, are they real?" Asked Tomme, taking my attention away from Anthony and Julian.

"No, had them done a couple of years ago. Do you like them?" I asked. I was quite proud of them personally, and liked to show off my investment.

"From a visual perspective, they look great. They suit you," he said, ignoring the sniggers from Michael and Gray.

"Tomme, are you sure you're gay? Ogling udders isn't in the remit you know," Trystan pointed out.

"Oh soreee," said Tomme sarcastically, "I didn't ask to touch them or anything, nobody said I couldn't look. I thought we were all meant to be getting to know her." He turned to me, "I quite like boobies. No idea why."

Anthony returned with a bottle of red, followed by a waitress bearing a bottle of champagne, and some flutes. "Compliments of Mr Alexander," she announced, smiling at me.

"Looks like you pulled," Gray pointed out.

"I'm going out for a ciggie," Trystan snapped, scraping his chair and looking furious. Nobody joined him.

"He's beyond jealous," said Anthony, "it's just the sort of thing he fantasises about a man doing for him. It's probably even worse being from someone like Julian. Trystan's cock was biting his leg off last time he came into the salon." The others all cackled.

I took a sip of the champagne, I was no expert, but it tasted as though it was the good stuff. The others all had some too. "You can come out with us again, if it means we get free champers," Michael said, smiling.

"It doesn't normally happen to me, men sending bottles of bubbly over." Inside I was thrilled. I glanced over to the bar, and seeing Julian staring back, I raised my glass and smiled at him, fully expecting him to come over and say hello.

Before he could make his move, a tall, slender, brunette strode up to him, kissing him on the cheek. She perched on a barstool next to him, blocking our view of each other. I watched as she stroked his arm, clearly on touching terms.

"Oh dear, looks like his girlfriend showed up before he could make his move," murmured Gray.

"Oh well, never mind, at least we got free champagne," I said, trying not to sound disappointed.

I left the bar at around half eight, a little tipsy from the alcohol, and lack of food. As soon as I was on the train, I fished out my phone to call mum to meet me at the station. I frowned at another text from Matt, asking how my day went, and speed dialled mum without bothering to reply to him.

Back home, I recounted all the details of my day, in between scarfing down the casserole mum had kept warm for me. I showed them my little printout listing my takings, and told them about being rammed out with starlets the next day, at which point my little brother's ears pricked up. He'd been studiously ignoring us, while playing on the computer. "If you do that little blonde one off Eastenders, can you get her autograph, and give her my number?" he called out.

"No I can't. Anyway, why would she be remotely interested in you, squirt?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm 22 now. Plus I'm taller than you. You're gonna have to think of a better insult." Hmm, fair point.

I ignored him, and flicked through the copy of Vogue I'd picked up at Charing Cross, checking out the styling and looks that had been deemed 'on trend' by the pundits. I was determined to be a credit to the salon, and turn out some cutting edge, paparazzi-worthy work. Unsure as to whether or not they stocked hair chalks, I tucked some of my own in my bag to take with me the next day.

Chapter 3

The next day at work was a total blast. The whole salon was a fug of hairspray all day, and we all bounced ideas off each other. It was everything I'd hoped West End hairdressing would be. Even the infamous Helen Woodward behaved herself, and seemed to get caught up in the vibe that we had going on, although she did come out of the loo sniffing loudly at one point.

Gray produced some of the most perfect, classic hair-ups I'd ever seen. I would've loved to have had time to just stand and watch, and drink in the perfection. He was also amazingly fast, managing a hair-perfect French pleat in just half an hour.

We sped through the day, with four juniors running between us, fetching pins, shampooing and pouring endless coffees, it made the salon buzz. We had to get everyone done by five at the latest, as the show started at seven, so it was a race to the finish, which involved all of us having to work together to get done in time. I ran ahead, so used the few spare minutes to double hand blow dry with Michael, who was running behind due to someone waltzing in late, then having a tantrum when she was told she'd missed her slot.

When the last starlet had left, we all slumped into our chairs. "Jesus Christ, that was manic," said Tomme.

"I need a fag, a coffee, and a wee," said Trystan, "and not necessarily in that order." He went off to have a ciggie out the back, joined by Tomme and Anthony.

"Can you make everyone coffees please?" Gray said to Lottie. She rolled her eyes, and sloped off to the staff room at a snails pace, having forgotten that she'd had a lunch break, unlike all of the stylists.

Gray looked in the stock cupboard, "Hardly any hairpieces left. I'll make sure Paulina re-orders pronto."

"I used a lot of it," I told him. All bar one of my clients that day had a bit of fake hair added. Every actress had wanted their hair bigger and longer than nature had intended. It made up for the lack of retail that a day of styling caused.

"You did really well today Lily," said Gray, "a lot of stylists would've crumbled under that column. Your work was great, really on trend." I glowed under his praise.

Nobody was working late that night, so we were just packing up when we heard the door open. "Any chance of a quick cut?" Said a masculine voice. We all groaned.

"Hi Julian, I'll have to ask, see if anyone's willing to stay late. They've all finished for the day." Paulina came through to the salon. "Can anyone do Julian Alexander?" Five pairs of eyes stared in my direction. Everyone kept quiet.

"Ok, I'll do it. Suppose I owe him one for the free champagne." I heard myself say. It wasn't particularly late, only half five, so an extra forty minutes wouldn't kill me. I followed Paulina through to reception to greet him.

He was standing by the desk, six foot of pure, masculine man, with twinkly blue eyes, and a slightly crooked, boyish smile. "I was hoping it'd be you volunteering," he said, "sorry for keeping you late though."

"It's not a problem, and I need to thank you for that bottle of champers last night, so it's the least I can do," I replied, trying to keep my professional head on, and not go girly and stupid in front of him. Don't flirt with clients, I told myself. I led him through to my styling chair, and sat him down to discuss his hair. "So, what type of look are we going for today?" My standard opening line.

"I don't know, what would you suggest?"

I ran my fingers through his rather thick, blonde hair. It felt soft and pliable. "Do you like the style it's in, or would you like to try something different?"

"I'll leave it to you. Just make me look like the kind of man you'd agree to a date with." Flirt. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so took him over to the backwash, and got Tula to stop her cleaning to shampoo his hair for me. While he was being prepared, I went out into the staff room. The others all had their coats on, apart from Trystan, who was nowhere to be seen.

"You have fun there babe," said Michael, "I'm off to the gym to get one for myself tonight. I need to blow off some steam after the day we've had."

"Where's Trystan?" I asked.

"In the loo, probably sobbing, and mopping his wet mussy. The sight of Julian flirting around you was too much for him."

"Mussy?" I had no idea what Michael was talking about.

"Man pussy. His bumhole." They all cackled. I pulled a face. Ew.

I'd just gowned Julian up, when all the others left, each calling out a cheery goodbye as they went. "So Lily, how are you enjoying it here so far?" Julian asked.

"It's great. Really busy and buzzy. I'm having a great time."

"And all the queens behaving themselves?"

"Yeah, they're fine, a lot of fun. It's Anthony who normally cuts your hair isn't it?"

"Sometimes, depends where I'm working when I need it done."

"I thought it was your bar down the road?"

"One of them, yes. I've got others too, and a few shops as well." I didn't really know what to say, so I concentrated on my cut, letting a comfortable silence stand. After five minutes, I felt him relax. He sighed. "I love getting my hair cut. Has anyone ever told you what a lovely touch you have?"

"Frequently." I paused, as I wanted to find a conversation that kept him talking. His voice was deep and mesmerising. Slightly posh, but not public school. "So, do you live local?" I asked.

"Yes, Gloucester Place. I often work very late, so need to be central. What about you?"

"Bromley, although I'd like to live up here. Have you had your bar long?"

"A few years." We lapsed back into silence. I concentrated on the cut, and he was watching me intently in the mirror. His gaze unnerved me so much that I caught myself with the scissors.

"Shit." I examined the cut. It looked tiny, but would be bleeding profusely within minutes. "I'll just get a plaster, don't want to bleed all over you." I ran out to the staff room to grab a plaster out of the box.

"You ok?" He asked when I returned.

"Yeah, just a little nick, nothing really. I'm not usually clumsy. Sorry."

He smiled, "I'm sorry, am I making you nervous?"

"Not at all," I snapped, "I'm just a bit tired after all those starlets today. There's some awards thing tonight, so we were rammed out all day." I was a bit embarrassed about cutting a chunk out of myself in front of him, not terribly impressive, and cross that he'd been able to rattle me in such an obvious way.

"You should've said no, and I'd have come back tomorrow."

"It's fine. It won't take long." I chipped into the top, thankfully without losing anymore skin from my fingers. I quickly dried his hair, and styled it with some wax.

"That looks great. I really like it," he said, as I showed him the back, "so do I look good enough to date?"

I smiled, "You look very handsome. I doubt if your girlfriend would be happy with you looking good enough to date though."

He frowned. "Girlfriend?"

"The brunette, last night. I was going to thank you for the champagne, but you looked a bit busy."

He laughed. "That was Susie, she's a business associate, not my girlfriend. We're partners in a coffee shop in Shepherds market. I've known her for years."

I blushed slightly at having made a mistake. He hadn't really explained why she was stroking him though. I was still on my guard. I brushed the hairs off him, and stood as Tula helped him on with his coat. Taking him through to Paulina, I placed some shampoo, conditioner, and the wax that I'd used, in front of him, on the desk. "These are the products I'd recommend. Shall I put them in a bag for you?" He smiled at me.

"Sure." I watched as Paulina rang them up, and placed them in the bag I was holding open. "Oh, and can you drop your card in there as well please? I'd like your number." What? I stood there, a little unsure. With Paulina watching, I didn't really want to scribble my number down for him. She'd assume I'd chatted him up as a client. "So that I can ring for an appointment next time, rather than just walk in." Oh.

I snapped out of my dream state, and grabbed a business card from the desk to drop into the bag. Julian looked amused at my slightly flustered state. He paid his bill in cash, and told Paulina to give me the change, before thanking me for his haircut and sauntering out.

Paulina and I watched as he strode off down the street. "I do believe he was hitting on you," she murmured, "be a little careful, because a jealous queen is a terrible thing."

"He was the one who sent over a bottle of champagne in the bar last night. Trystan did get a little snippy about it. Not my fault though, I didn't ask for it."

She clicked through with her mouse to cash up, and print off my takings. "You had a fantastic day, selling all those hairpieces. Shame they only go through as retail though. You'd have made a fortune if they were classed as services."

I read through my printout. At over two hundred quid a pop, I'd sold two grand worth of fake hair. Two hundred quid commission on that alone wasn't too shabby. Idly, I wondered how much the mark-up was. "Do you want me to wait while you cash up?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'll be fine. I just lock the door while I do the till."

I went out to the staff room, and changed into my flats. Pulling on my coat, I grabbed my handbag, and scooted off home. I was exhausted, both from the pace of the work, and the stress of cutting Julian's hair. It had been a long time since anyone had affected me that much.

I told Lisa about him when she came over that night, describing him down to the smallest detail. In turn, she told me about her date with Tony the butcher, who sounded quite nice. He'd taken her to a steak house in Petts Wood, and they'd both discovered that they had a mutual love of enormous dinners. "He's certainly not a skinny minny, but then that suits me just fine. At least I didn't have to push a salad round my plate all evening, and get a McDonalds on the way home."

"He sounds nice," I told her. She had a tendency to be hypercritical of men, and expecting to date a Brad Pitt lookalike was punching somewhat above her weight. "When are you seeing him again?"

"He's asked me to the pictures Saturday night. We're seeing Wolf of Wall Street, then eating afterwards. Apparently the gourmet burger place there is really nice."

"That sounds lovely. At least he takes you out." It was a veiled reference to Matt-the-tightwad, who Lisa had championed from the start. I'd had another text from him that evening, asking why I wasn't replying to him. I'd ignored it, not wishing to open up a dialogue.

"Not made up with Matt yet?" She asked.

I shook my head. "I don't intend to either. Life's too short to sit indoors every night, and it's way too short to be with a man who doesn't love me. I deserve better than that."

"So you gonna hold out for this Julian then?" Lisa asked.

"Maybe. He hasn't asked me out yet though. I don't want to get my hopes up."

"Men don't send over bottles of bubbly unless they're interested. He'll ask you out, you mark my words."

I checked my bank account on the way into work the next day, to make sure that my wages from Gavin Roberts had gone in ok. With commission and holiday pay, it had worked out at just under three and a half grand. Not a huge amount, but a nice little windfall all the same. I could pay Mum back for my interview outfit, and have a bit of a clothes splurge on my next day off. All the others looked immaculate for work, so I had to follow suit, and invest in some designer wear. I worked out that it would only be eight days until I was paid by Gino Venti, as they had an end of the month payday, as opposed to Gavin Robert's 21st.

That day was a little quieter. Still busy by most salon's standards, but not as frenetic as the day before. I had a little time to chat to my workmates, and get to know them a little. My favourite was Tomme, as he was truly outrageous, and as funny as hell. He kept me fully entertained through a twenty minute tea break with tales of his drink-fuelled weekend in Brighton, cruising the bars, and finally picking up a young celebrity, who was playing a lothario in a popular soap.

"Where are you going this weekend?" I asked.

"Just local. It's my turn to work, so probably just a bar, then onto Manhunt for a few drinks. Nothing exciting. What about you?"

"Nothing yet. My friend Lisa's out on a date." It wasn't a lie, but I didn't want to have to admit that I'd sat in every Saturday night for the past year or so. "Do you all go out together?"

"Occasionally. Tryst prefers the more upmarket places. Hates the clubs that I love. We took him to Heaven once. That was a mistake. He danced with all the grace of a tasered bear. Michael and Antony both like the scene though."

"Have either of them got boyfriends?"

"Not really, well, Anthony has a fella he hooks up with sometimes, but it's not really a boyfriend as such. Michael likes the muscle boys at the gym. His gaydar's a bit wonky though, and he keeps getting bashed up by straight boys who don't like being ogled.

"Hmm, I can see why that would be a problem. What about Gray?" He was the one I knew the least about, mainly because he was always so busy, and had never had time to chat.

"He's an old married man. Been with Chris a long time. They have upmarket dinner parties, and invite their 'powergay' friends. All very tasteful and staid. I couldn't imagine him with his hand down a twink's pants in the Vauxhall Tavern."

I laughed, and shook my head. We were still giggling when Anthony walked in, carrying Paulina's iPad. "Who wants to see their hair on Heat's website?" We all crowded round. Quite a few of the actresses we'd done the day before had been photographed. I noticed that Helen Woodward looked entirely different to the pasty, sniffing mess who had turned up, being perfectly made up, and wearing a glamorous, shimmering, long dress. There was only one 'hair by' credit, and that simply named the salon, as opposed to Trystan, who had actually done the hair in question. Ten Hair, our rivals, hadn't even got a single mention, which pleased everyone.

"Next one is the Brits in February. That one is a bit more fashion focused. We got three mentions last year for the work we did," Anthony told me.

"So this year we aim for more than four?" I asked.

He looked at me a little strangely. "God, you're competitive. Yes, I suppose so." I blushed a little at revealing one of my faults. I'd always been over ambitious, and it wasn't always a trait that went down well with other people.

I popped in to see Aunt Doris on my way home, to tell her all about my first week, and see how she was. "So this Julian, is he handsome?"

"Yeah, really handsome. The type of looks that make you do a double take. From what I've been able to tell, he's got a decent physique too."

"A bar owner too. He sounds quite a catch, especially if you want your own salon later on." Aunt Doris was the only person I'd discussed my big ambition with. She fully supported my desire to have my name above the door of a salon one day, but had counselled me to wait until I was older, and more settled before tying myself down to a business. She'd also told me once that she had a few quid stashed away, which, when the time was right, she'd invest in a salon with me. In the meantime, I had to make a name for myself.

My first Saturday at Gino Venti was manic busy. It was Michael's day off, and the rest of us were scrabbling to keep up with the relentless flow of clients. I even had a few clients request me by name, recommended by people I'd done earlier in the week, which was a great accolade, and seemed to please Gray, as it confirmed his decision to hire me was the right one.

I was finishing a head of highlights, when a woman walked in bearing an enormous bouquet of lilies. I could smell their heady scent from my station at the back of the salon. Paulina walked through, carrying them. "You had a delivery," she said, her face impassive. She put them in the staff room, and returned to her desk. I desperately wanted to go and see who they were from, but carried on with my client. "Ooo, who's sending you flowers?" She asked.

"I've got no idea, I'll go and have a look after I've got these last few foils in."

"How exciting. I hope they're from a man."

"So do I, as long as it's the right man." I fervently hoped they were from Julian, and not Matt. Sending flowers wasn't Matt's style, but he might have worked out that I wasn't speaking to him, and wanted his Saturday night shag. It had been two days since I'd cut Julian's hair, and I'd been thinking about him a lot, probably building things up in my own mind into something that they weren't.

I finished folding the last foil, and handed my client over to Tula for drinks and magazines, before trotting out to the staffroom, feeling four pairs of eyes follow me. The bouquet had been placed in a bucket of water on the floor. It was enormous, and consisted of white lilies and baby's breath, and wrapped in white paper finished with a huge, white satin bow. Classy.

I pulled out the little envelope, and slit it open. *I'd like to thank you properly for a great haircut, call me on 07956867596 if you're free tonight. Julian*

"Lucky bitch. What're you gonna do?" Tomme made me jump. I hadn't heard him come in. He was reading the card over my shoulder.

"I don't know." The idea of me calling him was terrifying. I didn't do calling men.

"I thought you fancied him?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I should call him. Women don't just phone men when they're commanded to you know."

"Oh for fucks sake Lil, just call him. There's no law against it you know. You're off tomorrow, so let him take you out tonight."

"I don't have time, my next client's waiting."

"Go consult, then get Lottie to do a slow shampoo, that'll give you time. Come on, no excuses. Do it." He propelled me back out into the salon where my client was waiting. Five minutes later, I was back in the staff room, nervously holding my phone. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I punched in his number. He answered on the first ring.

"Julian Alexander."

"Hi, it's Lily, thanks for the flowers, they're beautiful."

He paused, I could almost hear his smile. "You're very welcome. I'm glad you called. Does this mean you'll let me take you out to eat tonight?" His voice was sultry, and seductive on the phone. I shivered slightly.

"Yes, ok....that would be nice."

"Oh I'll make it more than nice. Where shall I pick you up?" His question threw me a little. I couldn't ask him to pick me up from Bromley, and I didn't have any spare clothes at the salon.

"How about we meet outside the salon at say, half eight?" I'd just about have time to zip home, change, and zip back.

"I'll look forward to it," he purred.

"Great, listen, I'd better go, I've got a client waiting," I said, "I'll see you tonight."

I ended the call, and turned to see the four of them standing in the doorway, all listening. "God, you lot are nosy."

"The clients all want to know too," grinned Gray, nodding towards the salon, "so we sneaked in."

I shook my head at their beaming faces. "So you're seeing him tonight?" Tomme asked.

"Yep. Gonna be a hell of a rush though, getting home and back. I'd better tell Paulina not to book me any more today."

"You can get ready at mine, save you going home, if you like. I don't live far," offered Tomme.

"Thanks, but I don't have any clean clothes with me."

"Prada's only two doors down. They sell everything you'd need. Do you have your makeup bag?"

I nodded. It actually wasn't a bad idea. It would save at least an hour and a half, plus an interrogation from Mum. I quickly text her to tell her I wouldn't be home.

I finished at five, and nipped down the road to buy a dress and some underwear. One of the assistants was a girl I'd done earlier in the week. "Claudine! I didn't know you worked here?"

"Didn't I say? Been here a few years. What can I help you with today?" She replied in her sultry, French accent.

"I need a dress, for dinner tonight, some underwear, and maybe a pair of shoes. I'm going straight out from work, so don't have time to go home and change."

"Not a problem, let's put you in a changing room, and I'll bring a selection. Everyone loved my hair by the way." She led me through the shop, and into the changing room at the back. After instructing me to get undressed, she disappeared to fetch some dresses.

I loved the third one I tried on. It was very Audrey Hepburn-esque and fitted beautifully. I blanched slightly at the price, but told myself that it would be an investment purchase, which would last for years. Claudine appeared bearing a pair of high heels. "Here, try these on. They'll go perfectly."

I stared at my reflection. I looked grown up, and classy, exactly the image I wanted to project. I chose a new, lacy bra and thong set, and watched as Claudine rang up my purchases, gulping at the final figure. This better be worth it.

Tomme's flat was small, but perfectly formed, and extremely stylishly decorated. It was also only a fifteen minute walk from the salon. He made a coffee while I quickly showered, then blow dried my hair into big, bouncy curls. When I'd dressed, and done my makeup, he cast an appraising eye over the total look. "You need more bronzer on your legs babe, and jooshe your hair up a bit." I complied, squirting on more extra-strong hairspray. "Perfect. If I was straight, I'd fancy you."

Tomme promised to bring my work clothes into the salon for me, so that I only had to carry my handbag, which I dropped twice, before I managed to get it to stay on my shoulder. "Lily, are you nervous?" Tomme asked, amused.

"Of course I am. It's a first date, I'm supposed to be nervous. I just hope I don't panic, and do something stupid, like order spaghetti, or drink till I'm sick."

He laughed. "Why is ordering spaghetti such a bad thing? I like spaghetti."

"So do I, but not on a date. Nobody can eat it without being messy. I'd look dead sexy with tomato sauce smeared round my gob wouldn't I?"

"Blimey, the things women worry about. Makes me glad I'm a poof." He gave me an awkward little hug. "Go get him Tiger, and remember, we all want to know every detail, particularly cock size. Make plenty of notes. Better still, take photos."

"Not on a first date. I don't do it till the third date."

He looked disappointed. "Cop a feel at least then." I laughed as I pulled the front door shut behind me.

Chapter 4

I stood nervously outside the salon, hoping I wouldn't be stood up. It was an irrational fear, as Julian wasn't a stupid young boy, but it had happened to me once, and the humiliation had been overwhelming, especially as it had been a school disco, and all my classmates had witnessed it.

I spotted Julian strolling down the street, he smiled widely when he saw me. He was wearing fitted black jeans, and a white shirt, undone at the neck. A black jacket finished off the look. Yummy. I was really glad I'd splashed out on my outfit.

"You look lovely, I'm so glad you came tonight," he said. He kissed my cheek softly, sending a little shiver down my spine. "I thought we'd go up high to eat tonight." He stuck his hand out to hail a cab. One slowed down almost immediately, and pulled to a halt at the kerb. Julian grasped my hand, and pulled me over to it. He opened the door for me, and with his hand burning an imprint on the small of my back, guided me in.

"Tower 42 please," he said, before sliding the glass privacy screen across. He turned to me, "Have you eaten there before?"

I shook my head. "No, never even heard of it. Is it one of yours?"

He smiled, "I wish it was, but no, not one of mine. I didn't want to take you to a restaurant or bar that I own, as I'd only end up dealing with problems. You know what staff are like, they want you wiping their noses every five minutes." He smelt delicious close up, all citrus and mint, probably due to the shampoo I'd sold him, I thought. "I booked a table at Vertigo," he said, shaking me out of my reverie, "modern European bar food. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will." I haven't got a scooby what modern European is. "Have you been there before?"

"No. It'll be a new experience for me too." I looked out of the window as we sped towards the city. This is the sort of Saturday night I dreamed of, I thought gleefully.

We pulled up outside a vast skyscraper, which seemed to dwarf all the enormous buildings around it. "This is it, we're eating at the top. Hope you don't mind heights," Julian said, before helping me out of the taxi, and paying the driver.

We had to pass through security, airport style, to even get into the building. As my bag was searched, I breathed thanks for Tomme's offer to take my clothes into work for me. A guard pulling out my knickers would have killed me. We made our way to a small lift, which simply said 'floor 42', and got in. I could feel the sexual tension shimmer between us in the confined space. He seemed a touch nervous too, and shifted slightly from foot to foot, fidgeting with his pocket. It was rather endearing, and seemed to humanise him a little. I'd built him up in my mind to be a cocky, arrogant Lothario, who seduced women with champagne and flowers on a daily basis, so seeing evidence of his own nerves calmed mine a little.

The maitre'd took our jackets, and showed us to a table by a vast window. The view was spectacular. "The whole of London laid out at our feet," I mused out loud, as I gazed at the glittering lights below us.

Julian cocked his head to one side, and regarded me intently. "I suppose it does feel as though we have the world at our feet up here." I dragged my eyes away from the view, and beamed at him.

"This place is amazing, thanks for bringing me here."

"You're very welcome. It's lovely to see you so enchanted. Warms a cynical heart to see a smile like yours."

We were interrupted by the waiter bringing our menus. Julian waved away the wine list, and simply asked for a bottle of Krug. I read through the menu, and relaxed when I saw that it was all fairly straightforward. "We could have the sharing platter," I said, "looks like it has a little bit of everything."

"Good choice, then I can feed you seductively," he purred. Before I could flirt back, the waiter arrived with our champagne, which was deftly opened and served, and our food order taken.

"So, Julian, tell me about yourself..."

"What would you like to know?"

"We could start with where you're from, how old you are, that kind of thing."

"Ok, I'm 33, and I'm originally from Surrey. Now, your turn."

"I'm 26 and from Bromley in Kent."

"Are we speed dating? Isn't that what they do at those events? Grill each other as quick as possible."

I grinned at him. "I've got no idea, I've never been to one. Have you?"

He shook his head. "I've always found the sheer idea of them quite horrifying. I prefer to do my chatting up over a haircut." He smiled a cute, crooked grin to let me know he was joking. "So, how are you enjoying it at Gino Venti?"

"I love it so far. It's so.." I scrabbled for the right words, "creative. It's almost as though there are no barriers."

"In what way?"

"Well, the clients don't quibble about cost, so I'm not limited in that way, and they come to us based on reputation, so are more open to ideas."

"And how is it, working with all those men?"

"Oh, they're all lovely. They're all gay, so it's a different dynamic, more open and friendly, apart from Trystan, because he's got a crush on you."

Julian laughed. "It'll be an unrequited crush I'm afraid. Not my thing at all."

"Glad to hear it. I must admit, being around them all day does make me question if there are any men in the world who're straight, because according to the boys, every man in London's gay."

"I can assure you they're not. My clubs and bars are all straight, and every night I see the lengths men go to for a bit of skirt. It's what most of the bar fights are about."

"So how come you're not working tonight?" I asked

He sat back in his chair, spreading his knees wide. "Because I'm taking you out. I figured that hairdressers don't generally go out late on Friday nights, besides, I'm the boss, I get to do what I like."

"Have you been out with a hairdresser before then?" I was surprised by his statement, and convinced he must have previous experience, rather than being that insightful. He shook his head.

"No, never. You're the first. It's just common sense though, isn't it? Saturdays are the busiest day in your trade, and by the time we've finished this champagne, you might feel a bit ropey tomorrow. You're not working are you?"

"No, day off, although I'm planning to go clothes shopping. What do you do during the day, if you work evenings?" I was curious.

"It depends. I've got a couple of coffee shops, and two boutiques, so often travel round those to see how they're doing. I do paperwork and stuff, go to the gym, you know, the usual. I don't work every night, just when we have problems or things I need to sort out." He paused, "so how long have you been a hairdresser?"

"Ten years now. I started at sixteen."

"It's a growth market, a good trade to be in. People will always need their hair cut."

We were interrupted by our food arriving. It was delightful, served on a gigantic plate, a series of satays, tiger prawns, and other finger food, almost like a party buffet all to ourselves. "I love this concept," mused Julian, "like a sort of European tapas. "I'm thinking of introducing something like this in one of my bars." He picked up a tiger prawn, dunked it in sauce, and took a bite. He had the sexiest mouth. I could barely take my eyes off him. "Here, try this," he said, picking up another, dunking it, and holding it in front of my mouth. I took a bite, closing my eyes as the glorious lime dressing hit my palate.

"Mmm, gorgeous." I took the rest of it in my mouth. I watched as he sucked the dressing off his fingers.

"Gorgeous, like you." He stroked his fingers down my bare arm, sending trails of heat through me. I shivered. His eyes bored into me as he fed me some chicken satay. A drop of sauce must have touched my lip, as he leaned over to catch it with his finger, before sensually licking it off. I thought I'd combust on the spot. This was the most full-on seduction I'd ever experienced.

He let me feed him too, holding my hand to guide me. Even his touch was sexy, he exuded masculine gentleness in a way which very few men can, only the ones who genuinely adore women. I was transfixed by his attentiveness, his evident sex appeal, and his hypnotic blue eyes, which gazed into mine. In that romantic castle in the sky, I was thoroughly, totally, seduced.

He carried on until we'd finished the food, the pair of us oblivious to everyone around us as we teased and tormented each other with the promise of what was to come. All my previous thoughts of playing by the dating rules were well and truly forgotten, as he turned me on with just his actions and his touch.

My eyes flicked over his body, he looked lean and muscular underneath his clothes, his shoulders firm and wide, his hands soft and neatly manicured.

"Do you find me attractive Lily?" He asked, smiling at my trance-like state, "Because I find you inordinately attractive."

I blushed at being put on the spot. "You're good at this, aren't you?" He pulled a quizzical face. "Seduction, you're good at it," I clarified.

"I think you've got that the wrong way round, I'm helpless around you, you have this..." he scrabbled for the words, "charisma, sex appeal, I don't know what to call it. You must have had lots of men tell you though." I shook my head, not quite believing what he was saying. He smiled his adorable crooked smile. "So, tell me how come you haven't already been snapped up?"

"I was seeing someone for the last two years, and split up with him recently. We wanted different things. What about you?"

"I never met 'the one' I suppose. I had a long relationship from my late teens into my twenties, but she wanted to see the world, and I wanted to build up my business, so we split. Last I heard, she was trekking around South America with a dreadlocked Australian. I work fairly unsociable hours, so although it's easy for me to meet women, it's not easy to sustain a relationship. I find most women want a nine to fiver." I smiled, thinking of Matt with his safe, boring office job. There was nothing about it that I'd found attractive.

"I don't think that's true at all. Well, at least not for me. My ex hated the fact I worked Saturdays, and now that I'm at Gino Venti, Sundays as well some weeks. The nine to fivers are better off sticking with each other, and leaving us ambitious devils alone."

He raised his glass, "I'll drink to that." We clinked glasses, and I took a sip. I was getting to that stage of intoxication where my face was a little numb, I needed to slow down a bit. "So... you're ambitious?" I nodded. "Tell me, what's your ambition then?"

"I want my own salon. In the West End, mentioned in every magazine around." With the champagne loosening my tongue, I'd told him what very few people knew. I thought he'd laugh, but to his credit, he didn't.

"I think you'll get it. I could see you as a salon owner. You just need the right mentor or backer." He sipped his drink, and gazed at me, as if he could see right into my innermost psyche. I didn't answer, and turned my attention to the view.

"Is that the London eye over there?"

"Looks like it, right by the Oxo Tower. The Shard looks beautiful doesn't it?" He pointed to a glass tower which was lit up from ground to tip. "I love London. I think it's the greatest city on Earth. Full of opportunity and life."

"I'd like to move up here, live nearer the salon. Tomme, my workmate, lives in the cutest little flat just off Baker Street. I'd quite like something like that."

"Near me then, I'll keep my eyes open for you. There's always places coming up, but they're not often advertised, especially the better ones."

I drained my glass, and refused the last bit in the bottle, which Julian finished off. I was feeling a touch pissed, and rather horny, a dangerous combination. "Now, where would you like to go next? This place closes at midnight, so we can go on to a club if you like? Or I could make you a coffee?"

"I think I'd prefer a coffee, if that's ok. Champagne goes straight to my head. I'll need to see about getting a cab too."

"No problem, I've got an Addison Lee account. I can sort that for you easily." He motioned for the waiter, who came over bearing the bill.

"I thought we were having coffee?" I said.

"We are, I'll make you one back at mine." He pulled out a wad of notes, peeled off a few, and tucked them into the folder that contained the bill. "It's alright, I'm not an axe murderer, you're as safe with me as you want to be."

I was more nervous travelling down in the lift than I had been on the way up. Having been subjected to a full on seduction, I knew we'd end the night in Julian's bed, which terrified me. It was all very well sitting back, and letting him charm me, it was an entirely different thing getting naked with him. I felt provincial and gauche, my previous experience limited to 'efficient' or fumbling shags. I could tell I was way out of my depth.

He snaked his arm around my shoulder. "You're shivering, are you cold?" No, I'm a bag of nerves. I shook my head, he looked amused. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I'm happy to be a perfect gentleman." He kissed my cheek softly, and whispered into my ear; "I can ravish you into explosive orgasms another time." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, everything south of my waist tightened viciously, my tummy doing that delicious squeezing thing. If I was being entirely truthful, I was desperate to see him naked, feel him inside me, taste him. I wanted to witness those intense blue eyes burning with lust.

I shook myself back to the present, and smiled at him, non-committal. I made the decision to go back to his for coffee, and play it by ear, mentally putting off my decision until later. He smiled a sphinx-like smile back, no doubt aware of the effect he was having on me.

The cold air hit me as soon as we got outside, sending my head spinning. I grabbed hold of Julian's arm to steady myself, as the combination of high heels, and champagne, made staying upright rather precarious. "Babe, are you drunk?" Julian asked, evidently amused.

"Bit light headed. I'll be ok in a minute," I snapped back. Sober up stupid girl.

"I take it you're not a drinker then? You had less than half a bottle of Krug."

"I'm a bit of a lightweight with alcohol." Don't be sick, don't be sick, I repeated in my head. The very last thing I wanted to do was honk up in front of him, or worse still, in the taxi, which we'd be charged for. "Can we walk for a bit? Let me sober up a little." Even in my inebriated state, I knew not to get into a cab until my head had stopped spinning.

"Sure, let's walk towards the West End, just let me know when you feel ok to get into a taxi. Do you feel sick at all?" He seemed so kind, and caring, as he held me firm, and walked me along Old Broad Street, towards the Bank of England.

"The cold air just got to me, that's all," I said, embarrassed. He just smiled in reply, and squeezed me a little tighter. We walked in silence for a while. He didn't even seem mildly tipsy. Eventually we reached St Paul's.

"Do you think you'll be ok to get in a cab now? Only I'm sure your feet must be hurting by now." Is this man for real? In truth, I did feel a little better, although still too tipsy to make an informed decision about shagging him. He was right, my feet were killing me.

"Yeah, I'm fine now." We carried on walking while waiting for a taxi to come past. After a few minutes, Julian was able to flag one down.

"44 Gloucester Place please."

I managed not to throw up in the taxi, much to my relief. I concentrated on looking out of the window, so that the motion of the car didn't add to my general queasiness. Thankfully, the journey didn't take long, and we pulled up outside a stucco-fronted terrace, with a large '44' painted on the porch pillar. I swayed slightly, as Julian paid the driver, and had to clasp his arm to keep myself steady. "Come on you, let's get some coffee inside you," Julian said, amused at my inebriation. I expected him to lead me up the stairs to the large, black front door, but instead, he unlocked a gate in the railing, and carefully helped me down the stone staircase towards the basement flat, locking the gate behind him. Oh great, a hobbit-hole.

I was pleasantly surprised by his apartment. The hallway was neat and tidy, and quite spacious for a flat. He led me into the living room, which was, again, quite large, and furnished with two squashy sofas, and an enormous telly. The glass coffee table had a copy of GQ magazine, and a copy of Time Out. The only other furniture was a bookcase, which housed an assortment of books. Through my befuddled brain, it struck me that there were no feminine touches, no cushions, niknaks, or pictures up.

"I'll go make us some coffee. Sit yourself down. Do you have milk and sugar?"

"No sugar, just milk, thanks." I plonked myself down on the settee, and watched as Julian put his phone into an iPod dock on the bookcase. The strains of Adele filled the room. He went off to make our drinks.

What with my foggy head, aching feet, and tired body, I felt my eyes getting heavier and heavier.

************************************

I snugged deeper into the duvet, enjoying the warmth, before becoming aware of daylight. My eyes snapped open, and I struggled up onto my elbows to find out where I was. Looking around, I was alone in a large bed, in a fairly stark, cream-painted bedroom. Crap, I must've fallen asleep on him.

I realised, at the moment I saw my dress on a hanger, that I was wearing my bra and knickers. He'd placed my shoes and bag on the floor, below where my dress was hanging. I cringed with embarrassment, debating whether I should just sneak out quietly, or brazen it out, and laugh it off. In the meantime, I needed a wee, and my mouth felt as though it was fur lined.

I pulled my dress on, and picked up my shoes and bag. Stepping outside the bedroom door, I listened for sounds, but hearing nothing but the rumble of traffic, I crept down the corridor. I found the bathroom, and locked myself in. After a wee, I nicked Julian's toothbrush for a quick brush, and wiped under my eyes with his flannel. I looked rough, my hair looked like I'd been pulled through a hedge, and my skin was blotchy. I found a comb in my bag, and raked it through, wincing as it stuck in all the hairspray I'd used the night before. It'll have to do.

I tried to flush the loo quietly, and held my breath, listening at the door for movement, before opening it gingerly, ready to slip out unnoticed.

"Hi babe, sleep well?" I jumped out of my skin. Julian was standing in the doorway opposite, wearing just a pair of sleep shorts. He was shirtless, and barefoot, and judging by his damp hair, fresh from the shower. Look at the abs.... "Sorry, did I make you jump? I've made a pot of coffee. No sugar wasn't it?"

I had no choice but to follow him into the kitchen. It was a surprisingly bright room, due mainly to half of it being comprised of a glass conservatory. I winced at the sunlight streaming in. "I'm really sorry about last night," I began.

"No, I'm sorry. It was my fault, plying you with champagne like that. I hope you didn't mind me putting you to bed, only I couldn't wake you up. I did try." He smiled tentatively. I blushed.

"I sleep like the dead, especially after a drink." I paused. "Where did you sleep?"

"In my bed. I put you in the spare room. Thought you'd freak out waking up next to a strange man." He grinned, clearly amused. He placed a coffee down in front of me. I took a very welcome sip.

"I didn't throw up did I?"

He shook his head. "Nope, nor did you snore, dribble, or anything else. You just went sort of floppy and dead." His grin got wider.

"I'm glad you find me so amusing," I snapped.

"Well, it was quite funny. I've never seen anyone go out cold like that. You didn't wake up at all, even when I was struggling to lift you off the sofa. How people manhandle dead bodies, I don't know. Still, you look alright today. Not too hungover I hope?"

"I'm fine thanks. I'll just drink this, and get out of your way." I stared into my coffee, not wanting to look at him, especially when his bare chest was so distracting. Nice smattering of chest hair going on.

His face dropped. "I thought you were off today? Maybe we could do something together?"

"Well, yes, it's my day off, but I've got no clean clothes with me, and I need to do some shopping." I paused, and curiosity kicked in. "What sort of thing did you want to do?"

"I don't know, maybe something touristy. How do you fancy going up on the London eye? Or the Tower of London? I've not been there since I was a kid."

"I need to go home, shower and change. My Mum'll be frantic." I glanced at the clock, it was only half seven. I pulled my phone out of my bag, and quickly text Mum that I was ok, and had fallen asleep at a friends. Julian was watching me closely, especially when I opened and read the four texts from Matt, asking where I was, getting increasingly angry as they went on. Tough, I'm still not replying.

"Why don't we go back to yours, and I'll wait while you get changed, then we can go out for the day?"

"I live with my parents. I doubt very much that you'll want to sit making small talk with my Dad in his dressing gown. Plus they might be a little suspicious that I've been out all night." I was interrupted by my phone chirping. It was only Mum asking if I was coming home that day, so she'd know numbers for Sunday lunch. I text back that I'd be home in a little while, not mentioning anything else.

"Come on, I'll take you home. It won't take long on the bike."

"Bike?"

"Yes," he smiled, "I ride a motorbike. We'll be in Bromley in twenty minutes or so." Before I could answer, he sauntered off, presumably to get dressed. Fifteen minutes later I was perched on the back of his enormous beast of a super bike, wearing a black helmet, and my stomach in my throat. I clung tightly to his waist as we zoomed through the traffic, barely stopping all the way to Bromley. He found my house easily from my directions, and pulled up into the drive. I noticed the nets twitch as I clambered off the saddle, my legs a bit jellified.

"Hi Mum, I'm back," I called out as I walked in. She walked out of the kitchen, "Mum, this is Julian, Julian, this is Linda." Mum shook his hand.

"Pleased to meet you Linda," he said, as smooth as silk. "Sorry Lily didn't make it home last night, only she fell asleep on my sofa. I hope you weren't worried."

Mum smiled, and to my horror, went all coy. "Oh I don't worry. She's a big girl now. Come on through to the kitchen, and I'll put the kettle on." Julian trotted behind her quite happily, and sat himself down at the kitchen table. "So where did you two go last night?" She asked, filling the kettle.

"Tower 42, in the city. The bar was on the 42nd floor. The views were amazing," I told her. She smiled indulgently.

"Nice to see you being taken to exciting places. Are you stopping for lunch?"

"No, we're going to the Tower of London. I just came home to get changed."

"Righty ho. So Julian," she turned to him, "What do you do for a living?" I left them to it, and went off for a shower, and a change of clothes. I debated throwing some work clothes into a bag, just in case, hovering over my extra large bag, which would have room. On impulse, I threw a pair of clean knickers, and a fresh top in. If I wore my black jeans, and boots, I'd get away with them at work. I'm planning to sleep with him.

It'd struck me as a little odd that he wanted to spend the day with me, despite my passing out on him. We barely knew each other, yet he seemed totally comfortable in my company. By the time I'd finished, and gone back downstairs, my mother was totally charmed, and my Dad was laughing at a joke. "You look lovely. All ready?" Julian said. "I must just use your bathroom before we go."

I directed him to the downstairs loo. As soon as he was out of the room, Mum whispered "He's lovely, quite a catch."

"Nice fella," Dad agreed.

"We'll see. I've got no idea what time I'll be back. I'll text you," I told Mum. She winked at me, which made me cringe.

We had a brilliant day, doing the tourist trail around London. The London Eye was romantic, despite the pod being packed with people. Julian seemed incredibly tactile, either holding my hand, or resting his arm around my shoulders at every opportunity. I laughed at how geeky he was at the Tower of London, buying a guide book, and examining all the exhibits in minute detail.

"I like history," he said, slightly affronted at my teasing as he read me an excerpt from his guide, detailing the various prisoners Henry the something had had incarcerated.

"So do I, but you're very.....thorough," I replied, smiling.

"I like detail, I suppose it's the businessman in me. With all my companies, I plan all the tiny details, all the little things that make the total experience. In the bars, for instance, I tested out hundreds of different glasses to find the ones which looked luxurious while keeping drinks costs down. That way I only have to buy a few different sizes, and can do it in bulk to lower costs." He stroked my cheek, sending a shiver of electricity through me. Clever too.

He must have seen the effect of just his touch, as he leaned towards me, and kissed me softly, pushing his hands into my hair. He pulled back slightly to look at me, before kissing me again, firmer this time, his tongue meeting mine for the first time. His lips felt soft, his hands gentle, as they caressed the back of my head. Breathless, I pulled away. "We"re in the Crown Jewels," I murmured.

"I don't care where we are. I've wanted to do that since I met you," he breathed. "Come back to mine?"

I nodded. In truth, I was desperate for him. I'd been horny for him all day, just from his touch, and his gentle attentiveness. I swear he sped back to the West End at a hundred miles an hour. He pulled me into his flat, slamming the door behind him, pressing me up against the wall to kiss me again, his mouth claiming mine with an urgency borne of frustration. "Undressing you last night, it was torture, not being able to touch you. You have the sexiest body," he panted after pulling away.

"Seeing you in just those little shorts this morning was the same," I confessed. He led me down the hall to his bedroom door, a room I'd not yet seen. It was different from the rest of his flat, being more...finished. The walls were painted cream, with the exception of a feature wall, which was papered with an aubergine pattern. The bed was enormous, and sported a cream and aubergine duvet. There were even matching curtains, which Julian immediately pulled shut.

He wrapped his arms around me, kissing me hard. As his hand slithered down to feel my bottom, I shivered. "Don't be scared," he whispered, "I'll never hurt you. I'll be gentle." I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he spoke.

"I'm not scared, just a bit nervous." There, I've admitted it. His hands slid round to cup my breasts.

"I'm a kind and gentle lover, Lily. I'd never hurt such an exquisite person as you." He paused. "Can I undress you? I really want to see you naked." His voice had taken on a purring quality. So sexy. He grasped the hem of my sweater, and pulled it over my head, before flinging it carelessly at a chair in the corner. His hands roamed over my bra-clad breasts, kneading gently.

Not to be the only one stripping, I undid his shirt, my fingers fumbling a little with the tiny buttons. He wore a T-shirt underneath, which he yanked off himself, before unclipping my bra, managing the task one handed, with a practiced ease. He pulled me into him, crushing his chest against mine, nipping gently along my shoulder, culminating in featherlight kisses up my neck.

I felt his hands hook into the waistband of my jeans, skimming around my hip bones to meet at the front, and pop the button, while his hot mouth travelled down to capture my nipple, and suck it hard. I arched into him, willing him to speed up, and salve the ache that was building inside.

He slid my jeans down far enough to be able to slip a finger inside me. It merely served to amplify the intense throbbing inside. I needed more than just his finger. I took a deep breath, and undid his jeans, feeling his rather impressive erection straining through his jersey boxers. I slipped my hand under the waistband, and grasped his cock. He took a sharp intake of breath. "Oh yes Lily, like that," he gasped, as I stroked him.

Acting purely on instinct, I dropped to my knees, and, after freeing him from his clothes, took his cock in my mouth. His breath hitched, as I licked and sucked him, holding him at the root. With my spare hand, I caressed his balls, which seemed to excite him even more.

"Enough," he barked, shocking me, "You'll make me come. I want to make love to you," he added in a softer voice. I let go, and with shaky hands, pulled off my boots and jeans. "Are you on the pill?" He asked.

"Yes, but I still use condoms."

"Very wise," he muttered, kicking off the rest of his clothes, and pulling open a drawer to find a box. I watched with feminine, carnal appreciation, as he unrolled a condom over his rather impressive dick. He pushed me back, onto the bed, then crawled up my body, sucking each nipple as he went. As he kissed me, he pressed into me, stretching and filling me completely. "Oh god, that feels so good," he breathed, before starting to move, every thrust hitting that perfect spot, easing the tension that had been gnawing at me.

I'd just begun to relax, and allow my orgasm to build, when he changed positions, pulling me on top. Impaled on his iron cock, I leaned forward, and kissed him deeply, as I worked myself into a frenzy. He must have felt the telltale quivering of my imminent orgasm, as he stopped me again, and pulled me into a new position, laying on my back, with him laying on his side, at a right angle to me. It allowed him to rub tiny circles on my clitoris, while he fucked me really deep. I couldn't hold back any longer, and came with a shout. The only way I can describe it is like my body detonated. A bomb went off inside, pulling my insides upwards viciously.

"That's it baby, just ride it. Go with it." He murmured, as I practically convulsed around him. It was a world away from the gently fluttering orgasms of my past experiences.

He rode me right through my orgasm, thrusting deep and fast, until he stilled, pressed in deep, and let go, his face screwing up, as if in pain, before relaxing. We lay there a few minutes, no sound apart from our breathing, to break the silence. Wordlessly, he pulled out, and grasped my shoulders, taking me into his arms. Eventually, he spoke, "I knew we'd be good together."

"Mmm," was all I could reply, in my post-coital daze. Will sex always be like that?

"Are you going to sleep?" He prodded me in the ribs. I opened my eyes, and beamed a smile at his beautiful face.

"I'm trying not to," I said, "but that was the biggest, most intense orgasm I've ever had. So forgive me for being a little dazed."

He grinned. His wide smile showing his perfect, white teeth. "The biggest orgasm you ever had? I'll take that as a compliment. Give me another half hour, and I'll give you another one." He leaned down, and kissed my breast. "Now, in the meantime, shall I make you something to eat?"

"I'm starving," I confessed. I watched as he pulled on his sleep shorts, and threw his shirt over to me. I pulled it on, surreptitiously sniffing his gorgeous scent. He led me by the hand into the kitchen, where I made us coffees, while he rustled up some cheese on toast. His fridge was pretty empty. "Are you a good cook?" I asked.

"Not great. I never have much in, and I usually eat in my restaurants, or at the gym. It's a bit pointless cooking for one."

"Don't you have a cleaner, or a lady who keeps house?" I asked. He shook his head, and pulled a bit of a face.

"It's not a huge flat, and it's only me here, so I manage alright. The only room that gets messy is my office, and I wouldn't want anyone rearranging stuff in there." He paused. "Can you cook?"

"Yes, I'm not bad at all. Mum taught me when I was little. I can't do really fancy stuff, but it can do family meals ok. Mum works at a solicitors as a receptionist, and book-keeper, so I often got dinner ready if I was home first. My Dad's useless, and my brother, Mark, can't even boil water."

"I'm not that bad," he laughed, serving up our snack still bubbling. I decided to let mine cool a little.

"How long have you lived here?" I looked around the slightly bare kitchen. It looked like a rental flat, one which had only been furnished with the basics.

"Ten years, yeah, I bought it in 2003, so just over ten years." He owns it?

"Oh, I thought it was rented."

He sipped his coffee. "Why?"

"Well, there's no pictures up, and not much furniture."

"No woman's touch? I suppose I'm a bit of a bloke. As long as I've got a telly and a sofa, I'm quite happy really. Women always want to clutter things up."

"So you've never had a woman live here?"

He shook his head. "No, never."

"How come?" I was intrigued. This gorgeous hunk of sexy man clearly wouldn't have trouble getting a girlfriend, and with sexual prowess like his, keeping her happy.

"I guess I don't really do domesticity." His voice took on an edge, "I told you before, women struggle with my work life. Talking of which, I'm gonna have to work tonight. I can go in a little late though," he winked suggestively, "gives us a bit more time."

One enormous orgasm later, I sat in bed, watching him dress. "So what do you have to do tonight?" I asked, fairly innocently, I thought.

"Bit nosy aren't you? It's just work. Staff stuff, money stuff, ordering, nothing sinister," he snapped, shocking me a little. Only five minutes before, he'd been murmuring sweet nothings, and calling his climax. The atmosphere between us switched to chilly in a nanosecond. I jumped off the bed, and scooped my knickers on.

"I'll get out of your way," I said, avoiding his eyes. I dressed in double quick time.

"You want a lift?" He asked in a more measured tone.

"No, I'll be fine. I can take the tube. Thanks anyway." I concentrated on keeping it together, even though I felt as though I was being dismissed. He'd had his way with me, and now wanted rid. Player. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I grabbed my coat from the peg in the hall.

"Lily, what's up?" He called out. "Don't I get a kiss goodbye?" He wandered up to me. I gave him a chaste kiss, and pulled on my coat.

"I'll see you around," I said, avoiding his eyes. With that, I turned and walked out, closing the door behind me. I ran up the steps, and back into the world before he could follow me. I strode purposefully towards the tube station, angry with myself for overreacting, angry with him for his dismissal. I mulled over our weekend in my mind, re-thinking our conversations. By the time I was on the train home, I was certain I'd been played. I called Lisa.

"Can I come round?" I sniffed loudly.

"Course you can," She paused, "are you upset about something?"

"Yeah," I replied, in a small voice. "I'll be at Bromley South in ten."

"I'll pick you up."

I was so relieved to see Lisa's little fiat outside the station. As soon as I hopped in, I let out the sob which I'd repressed all the way home. "Come on then, what happened?" She asked softly.

"I got played. He made out he was the perfect man, and was super-interested, then afterwards, went all cold on me, and almost threw me out to go to work." She stayed silent as she drove. Eventually, we pulled onto her drive. Her parents were away in Barbados, so we had the house to ourselves. She made some tea, and listened as I told her in elaborate detail about the events of the weekend, even showing her the pictures I'd snapped on my phone. Julian pulling a funny face, Julian up high on the eye, beaming a smile, one blowing me a kiss. Bastard.

"I think you've gotta wait and see if he played you. If he doesn't call, you'll know," she said, clearly not really getting the point.

"I don't want to just sit around waiting for my phone to ring," I whined, "I want to know why he changed."

"Maybe you gave it up a bit too easily," Lisa asserted, "men like a bit of challenge." I felt even more despondent. She was probably right, and I'd dropped my knickers a bit too quickly. Julian clearly wasn't the type to settle down, and was bound to be chatting up the next woman already.

Chapter 5