A few days ago I went with my wife to the salon. She was getting her color touched up while I got a quick trim. I was sitting to her left, and the stylist doing her dye is someone we both know well. My wife was wearing a knit mini dress. Everyone knows salon chairs face a huge mirror so you can see the styling from every angle. I’ve always joked that those mirrors are basically enemies of girls in skirts, though usually the stylists are women, and the rare guys are usually gay, so no big deal.
My haircut was simple, another stylist finished me fast. After I got my hair washed and came back, I saw a young male stylist had taken over applying the dye on my wife. She was chilling, one leg casually crossed over the other, scrolling on her phone.
The second the guy stepped away, I walked behind her, leaned in, and whispered for her to uncross her legs. She shot me a quick glance, instantly reading my dirty mind, and let both legs drop. Sure enough, the mirror gave a perfect, shameless reflection of her light gray panties.
She smirked and asked, “Good view? Want me to keep them like this when he comes back?”
I nodded like an idiot, practically buzzing.
I went back to my seat and waited.
When the guy returned, I watched him like a hawk. His eyes kept drifting low, way lower than her hair, and lingering on the mirror. No idea if he got hard, but I definitely did, and the thrill was insane.
|