Her smile was wide and honest. “Yes.”
“A military vessel?” Demlin shrugged and pulled her hair gently until he found the right spot.
“Precisely,” she hissed. Her head moved back with each pull of her hair.
“Well, Captain Linda, it is an honour to have you in my shop.” He glanced at the mirror and briefly locked eyes with Linda’s daughter, Marcy.
Three-inch strands of hair fell to the ground as passersby in the mall were unaware.
Marcy pretended to flip through a magazine. Her eyes shot up and joined Devlin’s with a don’t you dare stare. Her brunette locks were next in line for Demlin to have his way with. With mother here, however, that was the only service she would be getting this time. Lowering her eyes, she pretended to read more.
Linda’s white hair was long enough to give her a hippy image.
Demlin figured it had been years since this hair had been touched by a stylist. Typical of the hard working rich, he felt, in that image had nothing to do with their worth.
“I could show you my space ship.”
“Didn’t Zaphod Beeblebrox promise Trisha McMillan that?” he asked with a chuckle.
He shook his head and pulled again before snipping. “Your daughter was good to bring you in, Captain. Your hair was in dire need.”
“Deep space missions don’t leave me time to get my hair done. You know how it is.”
“Of course. You must be exhausted. How long were you out there?”
Marcy’s eyes almost rolled out of her head as she gave up the facade of reading.
“Thirty-five years. Marcy was seven when we launched.”
“Did you go with her?” Demlin addressed the question to Marcy with a wide grin. Scissors still in hand, he pushed the fedora back up on his forehead to allow better light.
Marcy’s serious face cracked into a sly grin. “No, she insisted I continue in my grade-school studies.”
“That’s important,” Demlin agreed.
“Yes, and she blossomed because of that.” Linda shook her head slightly.
Demlin’s smile widened. “She has indeed.”
Marcy, although holding her grin, turned her eyes to glare mode.
The last time Marcy had been in his chair had included a trip to the back room after hours. Demlin, as usual, provided a shaving service that included massage, cunnilingus, and an orgasm that sent her home to her husband even hornier than when she had arrived. With Marcy’s muscled thighs on either side of his ears, Demlin almost gave in to temptation. His cock had ached for her attention, and her delicious pussy had his hands moving to unzip. Then, quite by accident, those beautiful thighs knocked his fedora off.
“On a starship, she’d never have had the opportunities to find out who she is.”