Meanwhile, Maeve sat frozen in front of the mirror as tiny sparks of pleasure ran from her head, down her spine, to the very center of her being.  Outwardly, she sat very still—spoke very calmly, but inside, her heart raced as she tried to control her involuntary reactions to the sensations caused by the hairdresser.  She knew part of it was her long exile from faerie lands.  Another part was the fact that her husband had been so very ill, for so very long, that they’d not truly lived as man and wife for over a year.  But mostly, she knew it was because she’d not shared the magical side of ***** for many decades—every since her exile from faerie and any potential faerie lovers.  “Why?” she wondered of Shane.  “Why does her touch bother me so?  She must have magic in her bloodline.  Perhaps brownie, considering her hair color.  Or succubus, considering the sensations.  Or…?” 

Shane, oblivious to Maeve’s thoughts, continued to style away.  Marveling at the not unpleasant tingles running across her knuckles as she worked, she asked Maeve about the movie, keeping up the small talk, while thinking to herself, “This lady has the softest, most staticky hair I’ve ever felt.”

As Shane put the final touches on her hair, Maeve’s notice drifted briefly to consider herself in the mirror.  She was stunned.  Her hair gleamed like gold, as usual, but it also cascaded in soft waves, framing her face, accenting her high cheekbones, emphasizing her eyes.  “This person is quite talented,” she thought.  She came to a quick decision.

“I really love what you have done,” she began.  “If you are not otherwise engaged, will you come by my home tonight.  I have a dinner party, and I would like it—if you would do my hair?”

Shane hesitated briefly, recalling one other time that she’d been asked to a client’s home.  “***** it,” she thought.  “***** Cherie, I can’t let her haunt me like this.  It might just be a job.  Besides, if a *****’s what she wants, she’s way hotter than the chicks I’ve been picking up lately.”

With a small grin and a glint in her eyes she replied, “Umm…yeah.  That’d be alright.  What time do I need to be there?”

Noting the change in Shane’s demeanor, the shifting of her stance, the sudden strengthening of her magnetic aura, Maeve almost changed her mind.  But curiosity got the better of her caution.  “Six o’clock,” she stated.

TBC?