A third visit to the salon is arranged — with what on the agenda?

That Saturday appointment — with just the two of them left in the salon — was to be repeated. Last time, Jenny had asked him if he wanted another booking. Of course, he did! His story had drawn her in and locked the door… Jenny had to know more. Andy wished he could lock the door and stay in the salon all day. But that second visit had to end.

She knew that he had fought with Sarah, over his hair and clothes how he should look. She had wanted him to do the “Marilyn” thing again for a second annual Turnabout Ball at Uni. Andy had wanted to move on. And yet, she had wanted him to let his roots grow through his baby blonde curls. He wanted now to be a Redhead — and had gone and got himself “done”. He had bought “Dallas” style clothes — ok, from a second-hand store, but they were the epitome of 70’s/80’s glamour. He had bought a waspie corset……. To savagely tighten his waist. And shoes!

She knew all of that. The third appointment was set for another two weeks’ time. Three visits to the hairdressers in four weeks! Andy was loving this. Even at his age and stage, he was excited

His wife would be home the following Saturday so he needed and excuse to absent himself from home. He would be going to get some DIY stuff……

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Andy sat outside the salon in his car again — a quick visit to the DIY store would support his alibi. He’d say he had stopped at the pub and got talking too….. Enough for an hour, maybe 90 minutes.

The final customer of Jenny’s morning left — he’d seen her before — obviously a regular. Big woman, with big hair!

He locked the car and walked across the parking area, conscious of his heart rate rising. His breath was shortening too. Raw excitement. He put his hand on the door handle. And in he went.

“Well, hello to you…. Andy, isn’t it?” “It is, indeed.”

“A trim….. again?” Jenny said, teasingly. Her smile was welcoming. “It’s great to have you back…. You qualify as a regular now!”

“And what does that mean?” Andy enquired.

“Oh, unlimited time — if time allows….. And today, you’re in luck…… It does!”

“I’d love to stay all day, but sadly, I have to be home by Two — 2.00pm, only an hour away — but I’d like to take you up on that another time.” Andy said, apologetically.

Jenny was disappointed and didn’t mind letting her disappointment show. She frowned.

“I’m really sorry, honest, I am…… I‘ll book to come back….” Andy said, falteringly.

“Maybe a late evening then?” Jenny suggested. How could he refuse? “No pressure then!”

“I’d love that.” Andy paused. “Really”, he said, meaningfully.

“Then come to the shampoo basins. I can’t trim dry hair as well as when it’s all wet and pliable.” Jenny tugged at the hair on this head, now resting in the basin’s neck shape. She tugged it a little more and ran her fingers through it before turning on the water.

The underwear he had slipped into this morning was suddenly in Andy’s consciousness again. His wife would probably kill him if she knew. But then, there was a secret challenge in that — getting away with it. It was her choice really, he thought to himself. If only she hadn’t reacted so badly…… He’d promised never to do such a thing again. But she knew he did — she must have — it didn’t make it any better but……

Jenny over-rode his thoughts……. “When I’ve trimmed your hair, will you tell me more about the Ball you went to as a Redhead? Please……. It was a pity you had to stop last time….”

Andy, leaning back in the shampoo chair, looked into her eyes. His stockings and suspenders were stretched and the bra straps taught beneath his shirt. The shampooing took less time today.

“Not lots to tell really, about the second Ball, I mean. I was on my own this time- though I was among friends and people who I knew. We had a great time, dancing like girls did in those days — round handbags on the floor. Then I got asked for a dance by a couple of really cool girls in “Dude-suits”, you know….. pin-stripe jackets and trousers. Tight blouses and plain make-up… Big contrasts to the guys like me dressed up to the “Nines”……. One asked me if “he” could walk me home and I couldn’t refuse. The role reversal thing really took hold that night….”

Andy smiled at the memory…. As he walked to the styling chair and sat before the mirror.

Jenny combed and snicked away with her scissors, taking only tiny strands at a time, this time.

“Did “he” kiss you?” asked Jenny.

She combed his hair vigorously against its natural way of lying.

“Very much so — she…sorry, he… took the lead just as supposed ……. I’d never been French-kissed like I was then….. I’d done it lots but never had someone take control. “Tonsil Tennis” it was called when we talked about it in the days after….”

Jenny was thinking about Andy’s hair all through the conversation.

“So, the Redhead met “her” match… Did you see eachother again?” she asked, expecting a “yes”.

“Yeah, in fact, we went out together for quite a while. I reverted to my ponytail and guys’ clothes as you’d expect and we made a good couple.”

He reflected for a moment — that was true; they were a really good couple.

“She was studying for a PhD in Psychology so was at least three years older than me….. I did wonder, quite often, if she was secretly psycho-analyzing me…but I guessed not in the end.”

“How so? What convinced you?” asked Jenny.

“Well, she never probed into how much I had obviously enjoyed that second ball…. But I had no reason to expect she would — I never probed her about wearing guys’ clothes the same night. People do write whole PhD theses on such subjects…!”

Jenny was near enough finished with the haircut. But only a tiny dusting of trimmings surrounded the styling chair where Andy now sat..

“Did you love her?”

“Well, that’s too strong a word ……. I fancied her tremendously, if that’s what you mean.”

“I guess that’s enough. What attracted you to her?” Jenny wanted to know. She needed to know what turned this guy on.

“Her dress sense, I guess — she could make really ordinary clothes look fabulous — she just had style. And then there was her sense of humour. Really sexy..” Andy smiled once more.

“And her looks?” Jenny still couldn’t picture this girl.

“Tall, bobbed hair, brown, big eyes — lovely big eyes. Slim. Tiny waist. Suited the suit.”

“And her name?” He still hadn’t named this one.

“Bobbie” Crazy really — Jenny was too young to remember the song “I wanna be Bobby’s girl” Andy thought… In that case Bobby was a guy…… In his case, he wanted to be Bobbie’s girl and Bobbie was a girl!

Jenny had finished Andy’s hair and was using the blow-dryer to finish off She took a handful of styling mousse and, before he could say anything, smothered his grey.hair with it. She took her brush and, again, brushed his hair against the natural way it would lay. Spikey!

“You could look cool with a modern style like this….” Jenny said, playfully.

His bra straps tightened as he took a sharp intake of breath.

“No, no, er, ….no, I don’t really….” Andy stammered, knowing that he had to be home soon.

“Why ever not!” Jenny exclaimed. “It would be cool……. You could even be a Redhead again. Really. I have some really stunning temporary colours in my selection of mousses. Shall we try some??”

Had she gone too far? She wondered

Their eyes met in the mirror. She knew. He knew she knew….. He wanted to do that……

But he couldn’t. …He didn’t dare. Time was too short. He had to be home in less than twenty minutes. It was bad enough having mousse where there was no mousse when he left home.

How would he explain that??!

“You really are special.” Andy murmured, “But no, really, we can’t….. Not this time.”

“Next time……?!” Jenny went for the “kill”

“Will you let me… next time…. Next time you come into my salon,,,,,,,, Wearing your clothes?”

She knew! Now he knew she knew…. Of course, she would have known…… Andy near panicked.

Jenny’s hands had slipped to his shoulders again, the residue of the mousse sat on one side. That could be a dead give-away when he got home, he thought.

“I want to help you recall everything about those days.” Her eyes transfixed his in the mirror. “You will come back, won’t you?”

She meant it. This wasn’t just an invitation to come back — like before.

It was an instruction.

CHAPTER SIX FOLLOWS…………………….