Authors: Arlene Brathwaite
“What did you forget this time, Grace?” she asked without bothering to turn around.
“I forgot how beautiful you look.”
Olivia spun around and almost spilled the coffee on herself. “Oh my… God.”
Saint drunk her with his eyes. Olivia was wearing a pair of Daisy Duke Shorts and a sleeveless halter top. His eyes ran along her curves and tones.
Olivia’s first reaction was to scream, when she saw the shaggy-hobo standing in the middle of her salon. Saint had lost weight, and his appearance was… scary. “What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Why am I not surprised? How did you get a key to my shop?”
“It’s a long—”
“Please, don’t say it. You’re starting to sound like a broken record. What are you doing here? I thought you never come back to a place where your identity has been compromised.”
“Glenn could never keep a secret.”
“Don’t blame him. It was only right that he tell me everything about you.”
“He didn’t tell you everything about me.”
“Yes, he did. He told me all about the convent and Josephine…”
“So, he did tell you everything.”
“That’s what I said. You still didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here, and don’t tell me it’s a long story.” Olivia followed him to the back, where he sat in her barber chair.
“You owe me a haircut.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked, pointing to his matted hair.
“I can’t do this. It’s eight o’clock, I’m tired, and I just remembered that I’m mad at you.”
“Mad at me? For what?”
“For what? How about you lied to me from day one. You said you were an accountant.”
“I said I worked with numbers.”
“You said you’re name was Clayton Andrews.”
“It was.”
“You didn’t tell me who you really are.”
“That’s not considered lying.”
“Oh, God, I hate you,” she said, balling her fists up.
“I
love
you.”
Olivia blinked. “You need to leave.”
Saint got out of the chair and approached her.
She put her hands up in front of her. “You just need to go.”
“Don’t ask me why or how, but I do love you, and I came all the way back to New York, risking the death penalty or life in prison just to tell you face to face.”
Olivia avoided looking him in the eyes.
“Yes, I… lied to you, I misled you. My whole damn life has been built on lies and deception, and I thought there was no changing that. I just accepted my life for what it was. But someone made me realize there’s hope for me. I’ve thought about a life other than this one, but I never believed it was possible. If I had a choice to be anyone in the world, you know who I would be?”
“Who?”
“An honest man.”
Olivia squinted her eyes at him.
“I want to be honest with you, please give me the chance.”
“Sit in the chair.”
“What?”
“I said sit in the chair. You came for a haircut, right?”
Saint looked over his shoulder at the chair, and then he looked at her. He took a few steps backward until his heel touched the chair, and then sat in it. He watched Olivia as she closed all the blinds and turned out all the lights except the ones at her station. She walked back to him and spun the chair so he could face the mirror.
“Take a good look. When I’m done, you won’t recognize your own self.” She turned the chair back around so he couldn’t see the mirror. She grabbed a pair of shears and walked around him, contemplating what she was going to do with his hair.
“Aren’t you supposed to put some kind of apron or smock on me or something?”
“Are you telling me how to do my job?”
“No, I’m just saying—”
“How ‘bout you don’t say anything, and let me do what I do?” She kicked off her slippers and slowly climbed onto the chair, and straddled him. Saint opened his mouth to say something, but she rested the shears on it. “Not a word.” She grabbed the afro pick hanging off her chair and gently picked his hair. “Your hair is clean.”
“Of course it is.”
She dropped the pick and grabbed a handful of his hair. “So, Mr. Honesty, what’s your real name?”
“Honestly?”
“Please.”
“Saint… Christopher.”
“Wow, Saint Christopher. Do you have a last name, Saint Christopher?”
“I’m kinda new at this telling-the-truth thing, so, some things I’m going to have to learn how to divulge.”
“Like your last name?”
“Yeah, like my last name.”
“Umm, I see.” She ran her fingers through his hair and started to snip away at the excess hair resting above her fingers.
Saint had trouble keeping his cool. Between Olivia sitting on his lap, and her cleavage in his face, it became difficult for him to breathe.
“Is it me or is it hot in here?” he asked.
“It’s you… and me. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Honestly?”
“Please.”
“Yes.”
“Good,” she said as she sniped at a couple more strands of hair. “Hold these for me.” She handed him the shears, while reaching for the spray bottle on her shelf. Arching her back to do so, brought her pelvis right down his hardening shaft. She smiled at him devilishly when she felt him throbbing under her. He gasped when she sprayed the cold water on his head. She grabbed the towel off of the armrest and brushed the hair off his face. “I’ll take those back, now,” she said, referring to the shears. She grabbed them from him and gave him the spray bottle to hold.
For the next twenty minutes, she snipped away without a word. Every now and then, she would arch her back so that the softness of her crotch could meet the hardness of his.
“Sit still,” she said, smacking his hands off her waist.
“You’re torturing me.”
“No, I’m giving you a haircut.”
He grabbed the spray bottle and squirted himself in the face a couple times. Olivia smiled.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, reading his mind.
“What?” He sprayed her.
She snatched the bottle from him and threw it. They locked eyes. Saint then dropped his eyes to the front of her wet shirt. Olivia’s nipples were shooting out against the fabric.
She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back. She gazed into his reddish-brown eyes. “Your eyes were dark brown when we met.”
“Contacts.”
“And these are your real eyes?”
“Yes.”
She inspected them, and then gently kissed his right eyelid and then his left. He started to grab her by the waist.
She tugged on his hair. “Don’t touch me. I haven’t forgiven you yet.”
“I’m about to explode.”
“You do, and I’ll cut it off,” she said, snipping at the air with her shears. She grabbed the towel and wiped the excess hair off his head and face again. She ran her hands through his freshly cut, curly hair, while at the same time leaning his head back. She stared at his lips and gently grazed them with hers. She then ran her tongue across his top lip and then the bottom one. She sat up and looked at his teeth. “I know for a fact, that gap between your front teeth wasn’t there before.”
“I was wearing false fronts.”
She shook her head. “You are unbelievable. And your cheek bones are more pronounced.”
“I’m not wearing mouth implants. They used to make my face seem a little more—”
“Rounder.”
“Yes.”
She kissed each cheek, as she played with his beard. “Is this real?”
“Yes.”
“What about the mustache?”
“Yes.”
“What about this?” she asked grabbing his penis.
“Hell yeaaah.”
“You said you were going to be honest.”
“Oh, I’m honest Abe, right now.”
“It’s kind of hard for me to believe you, seeing how the round-faced, dark-eyed, no-gap-in-the-front-teeth man I used to know was a fake.”
“There’s nothing fake about that.”
She climbed off of him. “Let me see it.”
“Stop playing.”
“Do I look like I’m playing?” She asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“You serious?” he asked, looking around.
“What are you looking around for? There’s no one here.”
“What if someone walks by the shop?”
“The blinds are closed, no one can see inside.”
“Can’t we go to your office?”
“Show it to me right here, right now, or I don’t want to see it at all.”
Saint’s leg started to shake. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I’m waiting,” she said, tapping her foot.
He unfastened his pants and pulled them down.
“Drop those, too.”
He groped at the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down.
Olivia sized him up and nodded. “Okay, I believe you.” She unsnapped her shorts and stepped out of them. Then she unfastened her top and dropped it next to her shorts.
“Lace underwear, nice.”
She climbed back on top of him. He inhaled sharply when she dabbed the tip of his penis with her juices. “And their crotch less.” Before he could get his next words out, she covered his mouth with hers.
He grabbed her by the waist, and this time, she didn’t stop him. As he started to push himself inside of her, she jumped.
“Shit!” She hopped off of him and ran to Baby’s work station and started tearing it up.
“What are you doing?”
“I know Baby has a box of condoms in here somewhere. I just saw them the other day.”
“Olivia.”
“I think I found them. Shit, this ain’t them.”
“Olivia.”
“Hold on.”
“Olivia,” Saint said more sternly.
She turned around, panting. When she looked down at his soldier, he was wearing a helmet. “You brought some with you?”
“Yes.”
She walked back to the chair, eyeing him suspiciously. “You planned this?”
“Honestly?”
“So help you God.”
“I didn’t know what to expect, so to be on the safe side—”
“The safe side?”
“Safe side, safe sex, you know—”
“All I know is you disappeared out of my life, and now you just waltz back in it, and you’re sitting in my chair naked from the waist down with a condom on.”
“You’re right. This doesn’t seem right.”
He hopped off the chair, but Olivia shoved him back on it and climbed on top of him. “Every time I’m on the verge of forgiving you, you do something to upset me.” She positioned herself and allowed him to penetrate her. “I should be cursing you out, right now,” she moaned, “but it’s been so long.” She bit down on his shoulder when he buried himself inside of her.
“How long has it been?” he whispered.
She made a guttural sound and threw her back, as her body convulsed and released. “Too long.” She rode him to another orgasm, and then another, and then another.
Saint prided himself on being able to control his ejaculation, but when Olivia unclasped her bra from the front and stuck her dark brown nipple in his mouth, he bit down on it and exploded in her.
“That’s it?” Olivia asked, curling her upper lip.
Saint climbed down from the barber chair with her legs still wrapped around him. “Don’t move.” He reached into the crook of the chair where he stuffed the box of condoms and pulled one out. With his right hand, he brought it up to his mouth and ripped the packet open with his teeth. At the same time, with his left hand, he was removing the used one off his penis. With the dexterity of a magician, he worked the condom out with his right hand and rolled it onto his still rock-solid shaft. “Cocked and ready to rock.” He walked with her wrapped around him to her office and laid her across her desk. He tossed the used condom in her wastebasket and threw her legs on his shoulders. Olivia held onto the edge of her desk as he hammered into her like a piston. She growled as her body spasmed out another orgasm.
Saint pulled out and flipped her over like a rag doll. With her feet planted firmly on the floor, he bent her over the desk and entered her from behind. Olivia matched his thrusts until he came for the second time.
“Time out,” she said, barely able to make a T with her hands. Saint pulled out of her and walked out the office. “Where are you going?”
“I left the box of condoms on the chair. Be right back.”
Olivia’s eyebrows shot up.
Olivia’s eyes popped open when she heard Grace scream her name.
“What the hell, girl? I was worried half to death about you. I called your house and didn’t get an answer, then I called your cell. When you didn’t pick up, I called here. Why didn’t you answer the phone?”