Tiffany's Styles & Cuts: Helping the Help

Hello dear readers, thank you for all your positive comments, it really means a lot to us authors, and I appreciate each and every one. The time has come for another installment of Tiffany's Styles & Cuts, and I can't wait to share it with you. Our usual cast of characters, of course, returns, and in this installment we are introducing Aaron, who's going to be helping out around the Salon. I hope you enjoy it as much as you've enjoyed previous installments, and this was inspired by — and a gift for — a dear friend.

Chapter 1: Aaron’s First Week

Aaron’s life last summer had been frankly boring, and he needed something to get him out of his parents' tacky nouveau-riche manor house. He’d put not inconsiderable thought into where might be best to work at in the weeks leading up to the summer break, and he’d hit on the answer: cleaning up in a salon.

And yes, it sounded crazy. Here he was, a rich cis het guy — why would he ever want to do menial labor in a salon? But it was perfect! He’d get to be around gorgeous women all day every day, and get to interact with them. By the time he quit before next year’s term started, he’d have plenty of memories of beautiful women saved up for a glorious final year at the University of Essex, where he was looking to graduate with honours in engineering. His parents wanted him in business, and politics, but he rightly pointed out that engineering was a booming field. All the decaying infrastructure that needed fresh shiny replacements needed engineers to design them — it was a potentially very lucrative field.

If he’d had his druthers, it would’ve been geology — rocks were fascinating! But at least some engineers got to work with them in metallurgy. Thankfully, his father didn’t understand the nuances of engineering, so he still got to study rocks. And this summer he’d get to study rocks of a different kind! He had the perfect job lined up: he’d applied last week at a place not far from campus called Tiffany’s Styles & Cuts, and was surprised when she hired him on the spot!

His father, of course, set him up in an apartment, thinking his heir was off to an internship at a prestigious engineering firm. Handily, one of his less privileged classmates was also named Aaron and leapt at the opportunity to sit in a stodgy office for the summer with just a slight fudge of the name. If his dad asked after him, the company would respond that Aaron was doing a fine job, while Aaron got to do what Aaron loved the most after studying rocks: being around beautiful women.

The proprietress, Tiffany, had asked him to be there bright and early the next Monday before they opened to learn what all the job entailed. He knocked on the locked front door, and one of the beautiful young women that worked there quickly appeared and unlocked the door. “You must be Aaron!” she said enthusiastically.

He hesitated a moment. “Yes, that’s me,” he finally got out. Smooth, he reassured himself.

“I’m Brooke, one of the shampooers — Tiffany told us to expect you.”

“Is she here?”

“She will be very… ah, that’s her now!” she said pointing behind Aaron. Aaron turned to see her walk up to the front door, her very fashionable skirt suit contrasted with Brooke’s very professional but pretty uniform.

“Ah, young Aaron, you’ve kept your word and arrived on time — good!” she said looking down at him. She had a good four inches on him even without her stiletto heels. How she worked all day on her feet in those, he didn’t know — but it was impressive.

“I always keep my word,” Aaron said, ignoring the fact his father thought he was at a desk in an office somewhere today. “So, what do I need to do? Just sweep up hair, right?”

Tiffany laughed musically. “There’s so much more to it than that! First Brooke here is going to get you ready.”

Brooke put on a big smile. “Come to the staff break room — I’ll get you some uniforms pulled from storage.”

“Uniform?” Aaron asked, surprised, he figured his casual street clothes would be fine.

“Wouldn’t want to risk getting your nice clothes all messy! Numerous chemicals and other things around the place,” Brooke said, gesturing towards toe back room. “We all wear these; don’t worry, we’ve got some in guys’ sizes.”

A perhaps moot point. Aaron was not that big as guys go — Brooke was actually taller and broader than him, but not in a manly way. “Sure, thanks,” Aaron said. No sense fighting it.

He let her lead him into the back room, a row of lockers along one wall, a table in the middle with fixed benches. A row of cabinets along the opposite wall had a small refrigerator, microwave, and a sink. “What size are you?” she asked as she opened one that didn’t have a padlock.

“Oh, uh, usually I get a men’s large,” he said. They tended to be baggy, but he preferred it that way.

“Hrm,” Brooke said, looking him up and down, sizing him up, and opening a cabinet with stacks of uniforms in it. “Why don’t you try a medium? I bet it would look sharp on you.”

“O…okay,” Aaron said, taking the package from her. “Is there a bathroom?”

“Sure! Just across the hall, although fair warning, you’ll sometimes catch us changing in here — nowhere near enough bathroom space for all of us,” she said, grinning.

“Oh, that's, uh, fine, I won’t look,” Aaron said, knowing he totally would. He stepped into the hall, found the restroom, and stepped inside. He had started changing when suddenly, someone burst through the door.

“Oh shit!” whoever she was said, quickly stepping back outside. “Sorry! Be sure to lock the door next time.”

“Sorry!” he called, and locked the door behind her. She hadn’t seen much; he didn’t even have his pants off yet. He pulled on the top, and he had to admit, Brooke was right — he did look good in it. He quickly changed the pants, and they were maybe a bit long at the ankles; perhaps she had a shorter pair?

Aaron bundled up the clothes he’d arrived in and unlocked the door, to see the woman who’d barged in on him. “Heya! I’m Catherine, or Cat to my friends, didn’t realize you were in there.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, forgot to lock the door, that's my fault, first day jitters,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Catherine, I’m Aaron, the new hair sweeper.”

“Call me Cat! I’m friends with everyone here, and now that means you,” she said, grinning. “I’m one of the stylists — I work chair four, and I know you don’t know which one that is yet, but you will!”

Brooke stepped out of the break room and grinned. “I knew a medium would fit you perfectly!” she said. “Looking good!”

“T…thanks,” Aaron said. “So what’s next?”

“Want a shampoo before we open?” Brooke asked. “Your hair’s a bit of a mess, and Tiffany likes us to look aspirational for our clients.”

“Maybe another time?” Aaron said, trying to hide his annoyance. He put significant effort every morning into how his hair looked — it took a fair bit of gel to get it to do anything interesting. “How about you just show me where the cleaning supplies are, and a rundown on what needs cleaning when?”

“Fair enough!” Brooke said. “So this is the supply closet where we keep the cleaning supplies…”

She started explaining the various chemicals used for various issues, and Aaron grabbed the broom and pan and waited for clients to start arriving and styling to generate hair clippings. He didn’t have to wait too long, and during the day he realized how back breaking the job was. But still — the stylists, and their clients, were all gorgeous and that was enough. He helped in other little ways as the day went on, grabbing spare capes, fetching supplies from the storage room. As the day wound down, he was instructed in cleaning mirrors and other things he wasn’t used to doing himself. He was exhausted by the time he headed to the break room at the end of the day and, not paying attention, he nearly ran into a young woman he didn’t recognize.

“Sorry!” he said hurriedly as she turned around to face him. God she was pretty, though. She was taller than him, but he’d realized as the day went on, that everyone who came in was taller than him. It unnerved him a bit, but he was getting used to it. “Oh, who are you? I didn’t see you around today.”

“Oh, uh!” she stammered. “I was looking for someone.”

“We’re closed, miss,” Aaron said, having seen Tiffany flip the sign over fifteen minutes ago. “How did you get in here?”

“Oh! You must be, Aaron,” she said. “I’m Stephanie, I’m uh, Polly’s uh.”

Polly, one of the stylists, walked into the break room behind him. “She’s my good friend, staying in a spare bed with me — and she came down the back stairs. Steph, we talked about coming down here alone — you can use the equipment to practice with but only with one of us present and when there’s no one else around.”

“Right, yes, sorry, Pol! I’ll head back up,” she said, turning towards a door that Aaron had thought was merely the back door to the alley.

“It’s okay, Steph,” Polly said. “Why don’t you go on in and get arranged, and I’ll be along to do your hair shortly, okay?”

“Oh, do you need me to stick around and clean up after?” Aaron asked. What was wrong with him? He was already exhausted. “No trouble, I didn’t have plans tonight anyway.”

“No, that’s okay, Aaron” Polly said. “We’ll make sure everything’s cleaned up, but thank you.”

“Sure, let me just grab my stuff and change, and I’ll be out of your hair,” he said and laughed weakly at his own joke.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Aaron!” Stephanie said brightly.

He quickly grabbed his street clothes, and saw a bundle of uniforms his size in his locker, and decided to just take them home with him, rather than having to change after coming in. He headed towards the front door, and Tiffany was there by it surprisingly, he thought she’d left already. “So, how was it, Aaron?” Tiffany asked. “Everything you ever dreamed of?”

“Oh, uh,” Aaron said. “It was great, your stylists are really nice people. Slightly exhausting work.”

“I heard about you forgetting to lock the door this morning,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Be sure you don’t forget in the future. I won’t tolerate a young man harassing my staff — no matter who their father is.”

“No, of course not,” Aaron said, waving his hands. “And I’ll be changing at home from now on —” he raised the bundle under his arm, “— see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be out tomorrow, I have business to attend to for the salon,” she said. “See that you behave for Marie, she’s in charge tomorrow — and you might want to wash your hair thoroughly and leave the product out of it tomorrow. I was lenient on that as it was your first day; Marie will not be.”

“Of course, Miss Tiffany,” he said, and headed out onto the street to walk back to his flat, baffling slightly at her admonishment for his hair product. But today had already given him enough mental images to last him all week. By the end of the summer? He’d have enough for a lifetime, assuming he didn’t get dangerously overstimulated!

***

By the end of Friday’s shift, Aaron was exhausted, and glad he got the weekend off — Polly said Stephanie would be sweeping up tomorrow. He turned down an offer to go to the pub with some of the stylists, wanting instead to return to his flat to crash on his sofa and watch some telly. He would be wanking if he had an ounce of energy left in him, but he was too tired for his favorite pastime.

The week that had started off as hard work hadn’t slackened off a lick. He’d washed his hair after getting home Monday night, and Tuesday morning he looked in the mirror and hated how he looked. A little product couldn’t hurt, he had thought at the time, and quickly styled his hair a bit.

That was the first of many mistakes that nearly wound up with him without a job. Marie saw him come out of the back room after he dropped his stuff in his locker, and blew a gasket and marched him over to a washing chair. She spun him around, and before he knew it, she was washing his hair, all while keeping up a string of admonishments. An experience he might have enjoyed more if it had been one of the younger, gentler women.

Nothing he did that day from then on seemed to please Marie, and the more she scowled at him, the klutzier he got. He thought he was done for when he spilled a box full of combs. Nothing broken, just a mess to pick up, which he’d done hurriedly and apologetically under the watchful eye of Marie.

At the end of the day, Tiffany showed up unannounced and Marie had a discussion with her, hushed, but purposefully near him with many pointed looks his way. Tiffany eventually walked up and told him that while Marie had lodged a complaint, Tiffany had high hopes for him, and he would continue to be employed but on an even more provisional basis. At the end of each day, he would be told if he were to come into work the next day, or to return his washed uniforms.

He had just sat down and turned on the TV when he was surprised by his phone ringing. Almost no one called him except his father and the school. Usually to complain. He grimaced as he saw the caller ID — it was by far the worst of those options.

“Hello, father,” he said warily after quickly answering.

“Evening,” his father said gruffly. “How’s that job working out? Are you learning the value of work?”

Aaron laughed, careful to modulate it as good-natured, as if a month at a desk job in a stodgy office could ever compare to a day sweeping hair at Tiffany’s. “I am,” he quickly followed. “They just have me doing scut work really, but they find a lot of it for me.”

“Good,” his father said in his usual paternalistic fashion. “And your new place is okay? Your mum misses you of course, but she’s got to get used to it — you’re a man, after all! Got to learn to be independent.”

“It’s grand, thank you,” he said, looking around the room, catching sight of his work uniform he hadn’t bothered to change out of in a mirror next tot the door. The place was furnished — nothing but the best for Aaron Holden. At least this place didn’t have a bevy of stuck up prats with more money than sense, all of whom thought they simply deserved it by divine fucking right or something. The boarding school he’d gone to was full of them, and they’d their merry way with Aaron whenever they had so pleased.

“You meet any girls yet? Bet that company has some really fine secretaries.”

“It does,” Aaron said, doing his best to stifle his laughter. He spent his workday in a place that was all women — except him. The stodgy office other-Aaron was in had maybe had one woman in it who wasn’t an executive’s personal assistant. “Is there a reason you called?”

“Fine, fine,” his father said. “Your mum and I have a trip coming up to the continent for a month.”

“I remember,” Aaron said, hearing a family obligation coming from miles away.

“We’d like it if you stopped at the house every weekend, just for a couple of hours either day, make sure it's all still there and such. You’re welcome to spend the weekend there if you'd like to.”

“Fine,” he said. “I probably won’t, but I’ll make sure it’s there, as if the neighborhood security wouldn’t keep an eye on it.”

“I don't understand why you don’t like being here more,” his father said. “But fine, we’ll send you a postcard from Switzerland.”

“I look forward to it,” Aaron said, barely concealing his annoyance. When his father had sold and made absolutely massive buckets of money, his parents had packed him off to a posh-as-fuck boarding school — to network while they lived the easy high life. Is it any wonder he didn’t really care where they went? He had things to do, and he was finally regaining some energy after being riled up his father. “I’m headed out to meet my mates at a pub, I’ll speak with you later.”

The phone clicked dead on the other end. Another tedious conversation with his father navigated without laying into him — hooray. He stood and started to head for the kitchenette to heat some leftovers from some delivery earlier in the week. After he ate, he’d retreat to his room with his laptop and do things. He’d barely gotten it into the microwave when his phone was ringing again.

He let out a grunt of frustration and returned to the kitchen to see an unexpected number pop up. He almost sent it straight to voice mail, but Aaron decided that messing with someone phishing for identity information would be a lark. He clicked Answer and held it up and made his voice extra gravelly. “Who is this? Is this Joe? You got the stuff?” he asked, resisting the urge to break into a grin.

“No, this is not Joe,” the slightly familiar voice on the other end said. “Aaron, what are you doing?”

“Sitting at home heating dinner,” he said, not quite sure who it was. “Who is this?”

“This is Polly!” the voice on the line said quickly, her voice bright and happier than Aaron could manage on his best day, and today was not his best day. “I need a favour, well, Steph needs a favour.”

“Oh?” Aaron asked, his interest piqued — doing favours for ladies was one way to get their attention.

“Stephanie needs someone to practice on tomorrow night,” Polly said. “She’s studying for her cosmetology exam, and she needs to practice on someone.”

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. He’d been around enough online to spot a trap when he saw one. “What kind of help could I offer a cosmetologist?”

“Well, she has to know how to do guy hairstyles as well, and we don’t get tons into the shop, and everyone who works here are women, or close enough facsimiles,” Polly said. “Please? It’d be an enormous help.”

Aaron paused a bit to think; it's not like he had plans for tomorrow night beyond, well, relieving himself of some of this week's memories of the stunning women who worked at and came into Tiffany’s. He didn’t have mates he hung out with, not really — that was a convenient lie to tell his father. He was always sure to skim a bit of funds off to stash away, just in case his father blew everything on some deal as bad as his previous had been good.

“Sure, fine,” Aaron said after a brief pause. His hair had been getting a bit long, and Stephanie was cute, and so was Polly, and he wouldn’t mind either of them working on his hair. “You want me there at closing time?”

“Yes, please!” he heard another girl — probably Stephanie — say loud enough to be heard over the phone. “And wear your uniform! I wouldn’t want to get your regular clothes messy — I’m still learning, after all.”

“A reasonable precaution. I’ll be there!” Aaron said, successfully resisting the urge to say ‘it’s a date’. Much like his lack of mates, he didn’t get dates.

“Thank you so much,” Polly said. “Talk with you tomorrow!”

“Looking forward,” Aaron said — not a lie, per se, although the reason he was looking forward was, perhaps, less than pure of heart. Polly disconnected the phone and the microwave beeped, and he went to retrieve his reheated spagbol, which had lost something in the reheating, unfortunately. He sighed and grabbed a stiff drink to make up for it.

When he was finished, he did exactly as he had been planning to do all night — relieve himself, with some added bonus mental imagery of Stephanie’s hands washing his hair and cutting it. It was a glorious evening in the end, a better end than the day had honestly deserved.