by C. M. Albert
But her life was boring. She was finishing up the last year of her “Mrs. Degree” from State, studying marketing and business per her parents’ wishes. The truth was she wanted nothing to do with getting married, helping with the family’s other above-board business (Wells Media—a publishing conglomerate), or toeing the line. What her parents didn’t know was that Arianna was anything but the vanilla daughter they believed they’d cultivated.
Arianna had things pierced that her parents would never dream of on their proper young daughter. She was on her fifth tattoo, too—all of which were in places her parents would never see. The heart with infinity sign at the nape of her neck just below her hairline was the riskiest, but she always made sure to wear her hair down—just as Daddy liked it—when her parents were around.
From the moment Arianna discovered that her parents had helped cofound the White Room with their best friends, the Bellaroses, Arianna wanted in. Though her parents only owned forty percent, they were treated as equal partners; at least, that’s what she learned from Avaline, her godmother and wife of Henri Bellarose. She’d gone behind her parents’ back to confront Avaline, and it had paid off. Avaline not only let Arianna in on day-to-day business decisions—especially as Henri’s health rapidly deteriorated—she also gave her a lifetime key to the White Room. One she used much more frequently than her brothers. And it was her delicious secret.
Her fantasies were usually pretty benign, all things considered. Arianna liked playing the nurse, the cheerleader, the naughty school girl. And she liked much older men. Her father would probably have a heart attack if he knew how many of his peers and business partners she had fucked over the last two years. The thrill of that made it all the more appealing. She loved watching her father’s friends’ eyes widen in surprise at holiday socials at the country club, or when they came into Wells Media, finding Arianna at the front desk interning.
The power she held in those situations is what drove Arianna. She loved power almost as much as she loved the thrill of the secret. The only condition was that she never let Avaline make her White Room matches for her. She requested that the other matchmakers place her with partners of their choosing, all under an anonymous pseudonym—Julianna. It was the mask she wore while in the White Room, one that gave her freedoms she wasn’t allowed to experience in real life with the squeaky clean boyfriends approved by Anton and Miranda.
Today Arianna was playing the role of an edgy, punk-rock hair dresser. It was a weird request, but she’d had weirder. Besides, she loved dressing up for role-play. She smoothed her hands over her Daisy Duke shorts, admiring her choice of black fishnet stockings and Doc Martens. Covering her petite, but perfectly round, breasts was a white Madonna-inspired bratop, a white denim jean vest, and long gold chains that reached her bare midriff. Her belly button held four real diamonds all in a row through the piercing her parents knew nothing about. Arianna trailed her fingers over the fake henna arm tattoo she’d gotten specifically for today and wished it was one she could really bare.
The White Room arranged to have a white melamine desk in the main living space to look like a receptionist’s desk. A professional silver-and-white, leather salon chair was set up in the bathroom near the sink, shears and a razor awaiting. She’d tested the chair beforehand to make sure she didn’t mess up while playing out this man’s quirky fantasy.
For some reason, Arianna was nervous. She paced back and forth while waiting for the door to open. Then she sat down at the desk and fidgeted with the pad of paper before rolling the white gold-and-diamond Cartier fountain pen back and forth across the slick surface. The paper was heavy weight and engraved with WR in beautiful platinum scroll. Arianna was pleased with all the little touches every time she came to the White Room. It was the job she hoped to secure after graduating college in just a few months—director of customer experience. She wanted to lead the team of designers who created the fantasy suites for the White Room’s clients. Avaline had already told her she would help convince her father it was a good career move; though, if it didn’t involve a husband, Arianna doubted Anton would seriously consider her aspirations.
The door cracked slowly, a graying strawberry-blond head peeking its way through the opening. Arianna’s breath hitched. She knew exactly who this man was. She just prayed he didn’t recognize her. The man resembled a young Robert Redford, though she knew him to be at least fifty. Arianna squared her shoulders and met his steely gray eyes head on. Recognition flashed across his face when their eyes met, his lips tightening in a half-frown.
“What . . . ?”
The man hurried in, closing the door quickly and bridging the distance between them. “Arianna? What in the world are you doing here?” he asked, his face ruddy and flushed beneath his ginger beard that was flecked with a distinguished gray. “I—”
“Well, you came in for a haircut, did you not, Mr. James?” she said, placing the pen onto the pad of paper as she stood.
“A haircut?” He cleared his throat. “Yes, a haircut would be nice, Arianna—I just—”
“Baron,” Arianna started. She cleared her throat. “I’m here for the same reason you are. And that’s to give you a haircut. You may call me Julianna for the appointment, okay? And I promise nothing leaves this room. Ever.”
Understanding eased the stress lines between his brows. He nodded and extended his hand. “Forgive my awkwardness and rude manners. I’m Baron. Baron James. And you are?”
“Julianna. I’ll be your hairdresser today.” Arianna circled the desk to stand closer to Mr. James. She ran her hand through his thick, reddish-blond hair, scraping her black matte nails along his scalp. “Your hair is beautiful. Thick. What would you have me do with it today? Just a wash? Perhaps a beard trim?” she purred.
“Actually, I’m going to have you shave it all off, Julianna. I’m getting ready for an Ironman, and I’d like to be completely bald for the race. Can you do that for me?”
Arianna swallowed. “I’m not sure I’m really qualified to cut your hair, Mr. James,” she said, breaking character.
“Certainly you are. There’s no messing up when it’s all coming off,” he teased, reaching down and fingering one of her necklaces. “Won’t these get in the way when you’re washing my hair?” He held the large golden cross between his fingers and grinned. “Nice choice. I approve,” he said, chuckling.
Arianna blushed, looking down. She had to get over their acquaintance and brush this awkwardness away. She took a step closer, so they were toe to toe. “This isn’t really going to be a problem, is it, Mr. James?” she asked huskily, looking up into his stormy gray irises.
He reached down and lifted Arianna up by the waist, setting her on top of the desk in front of him. “It’s a little awkward, I’ll admit. I never thought I’d come across someone I know in here. And certainly not a friend’s daughter,” he said, clearing his throat. “Does your father know you’re here?”
Arianna leveled Baron with her deep brown eyes. “What happens in the White Room stays in the White Room, as you very well know. So it doesn’t matter what my father does or doesn’t know,” she said, inching closer to his torso. She ran her fingers up his chest, trailing them over his shoulder and to the back of his head. Her hand found his hair again. “It’s going to be a shame to lose all this thick, gorgeous hair. What will I hold onto when we fuck?” she asked, being purposefully suggestive.
“I simply came for a haircut,” Baron said, his mouth twitching at the corner. “Why don’t we start with that?” he asked, pushing back and putting some room between them.
She kept his gaze as she slowly removed one necklace at a time. “Sounds good to me, Baron. But just remember . . . you may be a pastor, but you’re not my pastor. And just because you know my father doesn’t mean you know me. Can we leave our expectations of each other at the door?”
Baron nodded, looking down at the floor. When he finally raised his eyes to meet hers, a white-hot heat filled Arianna’s belly, overflowing and land
ing squarely between her legs.
“Consider them left, Julianna. Now, about that cut . . .”
“Follow me,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the bathroom. He stood in the center of the stark white room, tiled completely with marble. Arianna circled Baron slowly, running her hands lightly over his bearded jaw. “Are you sure you want to lose this?” she teased. “A lot of women like a man with a beard.”
“Are you one of them?” he asked gruffly, his voice catching as she trailed her fingers down his buttoned-up shirt and to his flat stomach.
“I am,” she breathed. “But I like a fresh shave too. All that bare, smooth skin.” She pressed her body against Baron’s, standing on her tiptoes to reach his beard. She brushed her cheek against his stubble, rubbing his coarse hairs along her own smooth skin. “You want it all off?” she teased.
“Completely bare,” he growled, unbuttoning his shirt.
Arianna stopped him. “Here, let me,” she said, taking over. She unfastened one button at a time until she got to the waist of his khakis. She tugged gently, freeing the rest of the fabric so she could undo the last two buttons. She slowly slid his starched blue shirt off his broad shoulders. He was thicker than a traditional runner, she noticed. But his torso was flat and narrow. She let his shirt fall to the floor as she pulled his white undershirt over his head, revealing a smooth chest beneath.
“At least I won’t have to wax this,” she said lightly as she felt the hard flesh. .
“I’m not into pain, Julianna,” he warned. “I’m a pretty straitlaced guy, all things considered. Is that going to be a problem?” he asked, tipping up her jaw so their eyes met.
She swallowed, shaking her head slowly. “I like to push the boundaries just a little, but nothing rough. I like a little role-play, but at the end of the day, I’m honestly more about the substance than the show,” she admitted. “But I’m happy to do this for you,” she added. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Baron chuckled. He held both sides of her face, lowering his mouth just inches from hers, making her squirm inside. “I know what you meant, Julianna,” he said, their breaths mingling with their close proximity.
He was the first to back away, letting her face go as he walked over to the salon chair. “Should I sit here?” he asked, taking a seat before she could answer.
“That’s perfect.” Arianna wrapped a lush white towel around his neck and eased him back so his head was resting against the sink. The water was warm, matching the heat building between her legs. Just thinking about the scruff of his beard against her inner thighs made her wet already; it was a shame she had to shave it all off.
She ran her hands under the water, bringing it to his scalp. Her hands found their way into his hair as she worked the water through his thick waves. “I’m going to miss all this hair,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.”
He grinned, his eyes closed as she massaged his scalp, her nails scraping suggestively. He moaned, letting his head fall heavy into her capable hands.
When his hair was wet through, she sat him up, running a towel in smooth, circular motions to take some of the moisture out. She loved the way his Adam’s apple rose and fell as she dried his hair, just inches from his face.
“Are you as hard as I am wet?” she breathed out, picking up the sheers. Baron nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.
“I wish I could wash your hair the way you just did mine,” he admitted.
“I’d love that,” she said, suddenly feeling a little shy. The close proximity and intimacy of cutting his hair had her on edge—not where she wanted to be when she had scissors in her hand.
“I’m going to cut your hair first, so that it’s easier to shave when I’m done—if that’s all right. It’s what my brothers used to do in highschool when they played sports.”
Baron grabbed her other hand and tugged, nearly pulling Arianna into his lap. “I trust you, Julianna,” he whispered.
Arianna knew he was talking about more than just his haircut, and her nipples hardened in response. She’d never looked at Baron through this lens before, but now that Pandora’s box had been opened, she wanted nothing more than to jump in with both feet.
She brushed her chest against his as she leaned forward, taking a section of his hair in her fingers. She rubbed it absently before using the scissors to clip it off. Section by section she shortened his hair until it was nothing more than a brush cut. Hair fell all around the chair, but Baron never batted an eye at losing his beautiful locks. He kept his gaze soft and on Arianna the whole time.
Arianna ran a towel under warm water and squeezed out the excess before placing the heated cloth on top of Baron’s head. She pressed down firmly, rubbing as she did.
“Mmm, that feels good.” He sighed. “What’s that for?”
“To open the pores. It makes the shave easier, and closer too,” Arianna said. It was the one thing she did know after shaving her private parts for years. Arianna was adventurous down there and often took risks with racy trims and waxings.
Arianna picked up a bottle from the counter and straddled Baron’s lap. Their gazes held as she removed the warm towel and poured Sir Hare Head Shaving Oil into her hands, rubbing it onto Baron’s scalp. It was as intimate as she’d been with a stranger, sitting this close and doing something as personal as grooming him. The oil was slick and made her think about their bodies, sweaty from exertion and pressing against one another.
She took a deep breath before lifting the razor. Arianna ran the blade along his scalp from front to back, section by section. She pressed her hot center into his lap as she did. His fingers nearly bruised her hips he was holding her so tight. When she was mostly done, she reluctantly stood, finishing the back of his head until he was completely bare and smooth. She leaned him back in his seat again and splashed cold water over his clean scalp to close the pores, then rubbed his head dry again with a fluffy new towel.
“I’ll put some lotion on after I’m done with your beard,” she whispered into his ear, running her fingers over his facial hair one last time.
Baron caught her wrist and pulled her down to his mouth. He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered, “I’ll be using that lotion on you, as well. And, yes, I’m just as hard as you are wet, if you couldn’t tell,” he said, bringing her hand to the large bulge straining his pants.
Arianna couldn’t help but grin. She couldn’t wrap her head around this man, this pastor, and the ginormous hard-on he had for her at the moment. But she couldn’t wait to explore it further.
Instinctively, she massaged the bulge in his pants, but then stopped herself. “If I don’t stop, I’ll never finish this shave with steady hands.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, rising. She squirted the shaving cream into her hands and smoothed it over Baron’s beard. She wanted to kiss those lips before the beard was gone, but didn’t want to taste the shaving cream. She leaned forward, darting her tongue over his lips, taking in the musky scent of him, the clean, minty taste of his breath. She pushed her tongue between his lips, running it along his teeth.
When she pulled away, Baron cupped the back of her head and held her in place, opening his mouth fully and devouring her in a sensual kiss. Their lips meshed as their tongues learned their rhythm, pushing and pulling in tandem, sending goose bumps down Arianna’s spine. When the fury of the kiss slowed, Arianna pulled back, laughing. She had shaving cream all over her face.
“Here, let me,” he said, slowly wiping the foam from her cheeks and chin. “God, I can’t wait to have you underneath me, Julianna. Make this shave quick. I can always touch it up at home.”
Arianna nodded, her eyes held fast under Baron’s seductive gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. For a pastor, he sure knew how to push her buttons. She couldn’t wait to see just how straitlaced he really was, and how far she could push his boundaries—within reason, of course.
She squirted more of the white foam ont
o her palms and covered his beard fully this time, placing both hands on the sides of his face. Using her thumb, she removed the shaving cream from his lips. Arianna lifted the razor to his face, slowly pulling down as she’d watched her father do when she was a child. Nowadays, he walked the six blocks from Wells Media to have busty women in cigar-girl dresses at Beards by Bellarose do this very thing for him—though, perhaps, not quite like this, she snickered.
Arianna was glad Baron had come here instead of her father’s posh barbershop. She liked being this close to him, warming with anticipation as the sharp razor slid across his tender skin. There was definitely trust here, as Baron lifted his chin and let her slide the sharp blade over his Adam’s apple. There was nothing sexier than the sound of metal scraping against the stubble covering a man’s hard jawline. When she was done, she washed his face with a cool cloth, slowly running her fingers across the smooth skin.
He looked like a different man now. Harder. Sexier. Raw. Not so pastor-like.
She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly very dry.
Baron clasped her wrist after she set the razor onto the slick marble countertop. He lifted her hand to his face and ran it along his jawline. “Like what you see?” he asked.
“I like what I feel better,” she whispered, straddling him.
He pulled her hips forward, sliding her bottom against his lap. “There is so much you’re about to feel,” he promised, his hands tangling into her shoulder-length blond hair. He lowered his head and brought his lips to hers, turning his mouth at the last moment so her lips brushed his newly shaved cheek. She lashed out her tongue, sliding it against the smooth, soft surface.
“That’s a close shave,” she said, her lips finding his. He kissed her hungrily, as if starving for her mouth. “Wait till you see just how close of a shave I have,” she said, biting his lip.
