Date: Tue, 15 Aug 2000 17:26:50 -0700
From: J. Ocean <jocean@slip.net>
Subject: 17th summer 17

My Seventeenth Summer, Part 17

Thursday was like a dream. Everything seemed to happen automatically, with
no input or effort from me. But it was a good dream.

I slept late and kind of floated through a long breakfast and shower. It
was midafternoon by the time I drifted over to Madeleine's and opened the
envelope marked "Thursday." A piece of map floated out. It had been cut out
from a larger map with scissors and had an address marked on Pasadena
Avenue. I didn't even know where that was, but fortunately there was a
section of freeway near it that I recognized. By comparing the fragment
with a complete map that I had in the car, I was able to figure out that
Pasadena Avenue was all the way on the other side of town. Whatever I was
supposed to be there for wasn't until 5:00, though, so I had plenty of time
to meander over there. I took surface streets and drove slowly, enjoying
the cool breeze that was blowing through town. It was a perfect summer
day--not too hot, not too cold, endless sunshine.

The address turned out to be a smallish storefront tucked away on a quiet,
shady cul-de-sac. The only clue that there was anything there was some tiny
lettering on the front window that said "Reflections: A Salon." On the door
there was a handwritten note that said "Please ring bell" and a bell
hanging from a nail. I jingled it and a minute later the curtain moved and
a pair of blue eyes peered out at me. The door opened, revealing that the
eyes belonged to a blonde who now stood smiling in the doorway. She
gestured to me to enter and turned into a hallway behind her.

I followed, and after traversing the hallway, we entered a sunny room in
the middle of which sat a pair of barber's chairs. There was a big skylight
above us, and three walls were mostly taken up by giant mirrors, with the
fourth dominated by a bay window that looked out over a glimmening blue
lake. I fell in love with the place immediately. The blonde turned and
extended her hand. "Miranda," she said.

"Morgan," I responded, doing a double take as I got a good look at
Miranda. She looked familiar. I checked her out in the mirror to my left;
she looked *very* familiar. She looked, in fact, like me. About 5'8'',
strawberry blond, blue eyes, big in the hips and bust. There were a few
differences in our features, but on the whole we could easily have been
mistaken for one another. Our hair was different, or course; mine was
shoulder-length and a little raggedy-looking because I hadn't gotten it
done for months. Miranda's was a bit shorter, neat and chic as befits
someone who cuts hair for a living.

"Have a seat, Morgan," she said, indicating a chair. "Make yourself
comfortable. You're my last customer for today, so we've got all the time
we want. Mind if I play some music?"

I told her I didn't, and she walked over to the stereo in the corner. I
remember the record she put on very well--it was "Last Splash" by the
Breeders, which I hadn't heard before. I remember it so well because it
played over and over the whole time I was there, which turned out to be
quite a while.

Miranda started washing my hair and I daydreamed. I've always found the
process of getting my hair done very erotic. It's sensual, it's intimate,
and of course it takes place in a private setting where women are together.
Before I figured out that I was a lesbian, I used to be confused by the
feelings of arousal I experienced at the hairdresser's. Today it's one of
my favorite secret thrills, especially when the stylist is as sexy as
Miranda. It wasn't long before I started having dirty thoughts about her,
what with her braless tits bobbing over me as she washed my hair.

When she was done with the wash, Miranda picked up a pair of scissors and
went to work. It was only later that I realized that she'd never asked me
how I wanted my hair cut; at the time it all seemed perfectly natural, like
it was part of a routine I'd been going through for years. My eyes were
drawn to Miranda's image in the mirror. The similarity was really quite
striking; we were even wearing similar clothes--loose shorts and a tank
top--though mine were both turquoise and hers were amber and white. Her
untethered breasts shook enticingly as she moved around me with the
scissors, pausing now and again to dance to the music.

I relaxed back into my chair, feeling content and well taken care of. A
familiar smell wafted by; turning to where I could see Miranda, I saw a lit
joint dangling from her lips. She caught my eye and grinned
conspiratorially. Still dancing, she took the joint between her fingers and
put it in my mouth. What the hell, I thought, and took a long, deep drag.
It was powerful stuff. The room immediately grew even brighter and the
music seemed to get louder and to acquire intricacies that I hadn't noticed
before. It was really, I thought, too bright; then I remembered that I had
my sunglasses in my pocket, so I took them out and put them on. That turned
everything a little green, but it was much less blinding.

I looked around for Miranda, but she was gone. There was a puff of smoke
behind me that she appeared to have vanished into. So I took another hit
and just spaced there for awhile. Then Miranda was back, leaning over me to
pluck the joint from between my lips. She smelled fantastic, like
strawberries and vanilla. I felt my nipples begin to come to attention.

Miranda went back to my hair, snipping here and there and in between
spending a long time walking around me, looking at me from every angle,
considering her next move. One time when she walked behind me, I was
distracted for a second by a boat rolling across the lake; and when I
turned around, thinking I was ready for another hit, she had disappeared
again. Then she reappeared leaning in the doorway to my right, smoking and
shirtless. Her breasts, round and tanned, seemed to shine in the sunlight.
She walked over to me and gave me a toke, her tits dangling over me as she
leaned forward. I closed my eyes and savored the taste of the weed,
picturing Miranda's tender flesh and pink nipples in my mind's eye. Feeling
very stoned and uninhibited, I opened my eyes ready to grab a big mouthful,
but she was gone again.