“You sure your parents are gonna be okay with me being here this late?” I asked, allowing Maggie to drag me in her front door. “What time are they comin’ home?”
“My parents are gone for the whole weekend,” Maggie said with a mischievous grin.
“Seriously?” I matched her grin.
“Seriously. Did you bring your swimsuit like I asked?”
“I’m always wearing a swimsuit.” I glanced down at my tattered Bermuda shorts. “Gotta be prepared in case the surf’s right.”
“Always good to be prepared,” Maggie said, pulling me up the grand staircase.
Dang her house was nice. If only she knew her boyfriend was homeless, how would that affect how she felt about me? I didn’t want to think about that. I wanted to focus on whatever fun surprise she had lined up for me.
She held my hand and pulled me all the way down the hallway to a very frilly bedroom. How did Buddy predict I might be in this situation? Not that I expected her to take me to her bed when we hadn’t even kissed each other before. Instead she led me into her attached bathroom.
“What are you doing, woman?” I asked.
She slipped off her shirt to reveal a bikini top that left little to the imagination, and I suddenly had a vivid imagination. She unzipped her little shorts and I couldn’t even open my eyes to check on those tiny bikini bottoms. I peeked one eye opened and physically moaned.
“What are you doing to me?” Even if I kept my eyes squeezed shut, I could never remove the image of Maggie Hindle in a bikini. I had seen thousands of girls in bikinis over the years. I lived at a beach afterall. But they weren’t Maggie. They weren’t the girl I was falling for.
“I’m going to wash your hair,” she said with a grin.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” I looked at the ceiling with a half-cringe and half-grin. “It’ll take me forever to get it back to normal again.”
“And I’m gonna trim it just a little,” she said.
“Oh, no, you are not.” That was drawing a line. Still I let her pull me into her very large shower.
“Just a little,” she said. “Not a lot. We just want to keep you at the perfect length.”
“I’m at the perfect length right now,” I whined but sat on the built-in seat at the side of the shower so she could reach my head.
“And we’re gonna keep it that way.” Maggie reached up to grab the shower sprayer and held it in her hand while she adjusted the water temperature. She sprayed it at my chest to test it. “Is that hot enough?” she asked.
“No, it’s freezing.” I cringed away from her.
“Don’t be such a baby.” She kept adjusting the water and sprayed me again a few seconds later. “Good?”
“Yeah, that’s good.” That was more than good. I’d never felt anything so good as having her spray me with water. She ignored my roaming hands resting on her hips as she sprayed my hair.
“Here, hold this.” She handed me the sprayer nozzle and reached over to grab some expensive looking shampoo.
“What a waste of shampoo,” I grumbled but didn’t fight her as her hands wove into my hair and her fingers massaged my scalp. I was in absolute heaven. I closed my eyes and let myself get carried away. I relaxed so much my hand slipped and the sprayer nozzle belted her in the face.
“Watch where you’re pointing that thing!” She took a step back and cringed, not even able to wipe her eyes because her hands were covered in shampoo.
“What’s the matter? You don’t like getting sprayed with water?” I sprayed her across her chest, dousing her bikini top. “Turn around’s fair play, you know.”
“Hold still,” she demanded, stepping closer to me again. “I’m not done yet.”
“Do I get to wash your hair too?”
“Heck no,” she said. “I am a trained professional. I have finished one half of the required hours to get my beautician’s license.”
“Ooh, I’m impressed.” I held still for the remainder of her torture session, focusing on the way her hands felt in my hair rather than on the number of days it was going to take to get my hair to look right again.
She lathered up my hair three times and complained that we didn’t have time to wash it a fourth time. Then she rubbed conditioner all over my head and I was sure I would look like a girl when she was done with me. After her final rinse she turned off the shower and tossed me a towel. “Stay there. I’m bringing the scissors to you.”
“Great, scissors,” I grumbled. “A surfer’s worst nightmare.”
Maggie put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “Do I look like a surfer’s worst nightmare to you?”
I shook my head as I looked her up and down. “You look like a surfer’s best dream come true.”
“Good, now stop ogling me and turn around so I can cut your hair while it’s still clean.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I turned and tried to hide the grin from my face. I would do anything this woman wanted me to do. I was putty in her hands.
She snipped for a few minutes in silence and I relaxed. “There, see, you’re barely gonna even notice I took any off.”
“Sure, we’ll go with that.”
“I’m gonna rinse your hair one more time to get all the loose hair off.”
“I will do anything you want, baby. I’m all yours.” I lifted my gaze to her as she was rinsing my hair and noticed a crease in her brow. “What’s the matter?” I pulled her closer.
“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” Maggie asked quietly.
“I’ve never”—I gulped— “kissed anyone before.”
“Never?” She pulled the hose to the side and lifted her eyebrows. “Why not?”
“I have always found the idea repulsive,” I admitted. “In the past.”
“Well… what about… in the future?”
“I might be persuaded to experiment with kissing… in the future.”
“Is it the future yet?” Maggie asked, her breathing heavier.
“Would you mind if I try kissing you?” she asked. “If you feel that it’s repulsive, we’ll stop.”
“That sounds fair.” I cleared my throat and sat up straight, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, how do we start?”
A stand alone novella in the All's Fair in Love and Sports Series by Julie L. Spencer.