This refused to leave me alone. It's complete, undilted fluff in my books. But ah, it gives a good feeling and frankly, that's all I care about during this lovely pre-Christmas period. I know, I know, it's about hair again. And don't give me that look. Hardly any of you can say you can't identify with me on this on some level. So there. Anyways, this'll run on for a few chapters only with no real plotline whatsoever. For all you currently anti-angst peeps out there, this is for you. XD

Posh Snippets

by

LicketySplat

Chapter 1: Bad Hair Day

Minako lifted mahogany hair with her fingers and cut in a single slanted snip.

She grabbed the blow-dryer deftly and did a quick sweep of her work, patting it down and applying some hair serum to the strands. "How do you find it Kino-san?" she held a mirror up to the back of the customer's new 'do, cocking her head to the side with a smile. "It's lighter now, more bouncy, but I've kept the volume as you requested."

A gratified smile lit the woman's youthful face and Minako did a mental cheer. "Aino-san, I love it!" the culinary chef beamed, running her fingers through her mane of lush brown hair, playing with her now tapered bangs, testing Minako's handiwork. "This'll be perfect for my date tonight!"

"So who's the lucky man?" Minako questioned politely as she tidied up her work space and kept all her instruments. While Kino Makoto was easily the most regular customer she has had the past year, she had to keep up her professional demeanor as best as she could. That didn't keep her from the occasional teasing though. She grinned cheekily. "Oh don't tell me you finally plucked up the courage to ask him out. It's rather backwards now isn't it? He's been working in your kitchen, under you for a year alrea-"

"Aino-san!" Makoo flushed prettily. "I didn't ask him. He offered dinner as a repayment for crashing into me in the kitchen. You should've seen the mess!" She shook her head and sighed.

"But if it earned you a date, who's complaining?" Minako dusted off Makoto's shoulders and chuckled at the young woman's reflection in all three angled mirrors as she gestured wildly.

"It's only out of obligation! There's probably nothing else behind all that!"

"Kino-san," Minako's tone was scolding as she walked Makoto to the counter. "You shouldn't be so self-deprecating. One is allowed to hope you know." She entered the payment for the haircut into the cash register as she added on, "Besides, he'd be a fool to not be interested in you now, if he isn't already."

Her loyal customer fluffed her hair. "It's all thanks to you then."

Minako looked up at her pointedly as she swiped the proffered credit card. "I wouldn't be able to do much if I hadn't been given such a fine canvas to work on. Now off with you! Remember, you're young, you're beautiful and you're single. What's there not to like?"

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for everything Aino-san!"

The bell above the salon's door chimed lightly as the leggy brunette left with a warm smile and an excited wave of her hand.

Minako let her smile linger on her face as she remained at the counter, surveying her employees at work, observing and noting with satisfaction, their dedication.

It was still early in the day and in the holiday month. Things usually got hectic in her salon a few weeks to Christmas, but that was to be expected – people had appearances to keep up, parties to attend, which meant Minako had appointments to meet.

For now, she wasn't due for one till another hour.

"Minako-san!" Michiru called out from the basins and pointed to where Minako was working on Makoto's hair before. "You want me to clean that up?"

"No, it's fine. I'll do it. Just give me a moment."

She slipped into one of the rather expensive hydraulic styling chairs she had chosen herself and picked up her equipment case. Minako stared at all three of her reflections – definitely not regretting being extra extravagant on the classy mirrors that formed a vague half-hexagon - and selected a handful of bobby pins, set to fix her own hair for the day. Michiru had graced her with her current cut and colour: Peek-a-boo bangs that fell just below her eyebrows and long layered tresses which curled in loose waves at the end down to the middle of her back. Michiru had given her a soft yet polished look with a finish of graduated red streaks in her blonde hair that she rather liked.

She held a couple of pins between her lips as her hands busied themselves with her hair, gathering the strands up with practiced ease and holding them in place with a quick twirl of a chopstick.

Minako was quite the looker, she knew, and she had been approached by modeling agencies within days of her being catapulted to fame after people found the name behind the edgy pixie crop that Japan's No.1 pop princess sported. But that fact didn't change her mind about being a professional hairstylist, and at the young age of 23, she dare said she was doing well. Exceedingly well, actually, said her bank account.

There, she angled her head left and right, happy with how her chopstick hair bun turned out, and pinned some stray strands down, rising to get the vacuum cleaner from the supplies closet.

And it was at that moment that the bell above the salon's door tinkled with the entry of a customer.

She turned and her jaw dropped.

Now, in her line of work, she had seen plenty of gorgeous people, actors, actresses, singers, models, from the charismatic to the eccentric, from the broody to the flirty. Hell, some of them had even entrusted their crowning glory into her hands when she was still fresh to her overnight success.

But what she had never seen – or felt – before in her entire life, was how someone could manage to collectively rivet the attention of the entire salon, hairstylists and customers alike, from the moment a stiletto clad foot stepped through the door. It was like some unspoken but equally potent command. Everything and everyone was at a stand still, like one of those pointless children games where everyone would look ridiculous, frozen in whatever position they were caught in.

This clearly wasn't a game.

Because games didn't have raven sex bombs with fuck-me heels in them.

The only sound there was came from the suddenly horribly inappropriate Christmas music floating from the speakers and the flat whir of a blow-dryer that she knew was held in the stunned hand of one of her employees. At this point, she really didn't care who because her eyes were busy roaming the figure standing – no, smoldering mere metres from her.

A classic high ponytail, black straight cut jeans and a deep red spaghetti top with a burgundy blazer thrown over had never looked so good on anyone. Ever.

She finally thawed and reattached her lower mandible (she wasn't drooling, thank goodness), quickly walking towards the well-dressed woman by the counter who was taking off her aviator shades, and Minako tried in vain to steady her breathing. Her movement seemed to break the trance that everyone was in however, and they returned to what they were doing before, sneaking glances at the unfolding interaction.

Minako reassumed her professional air and flashed one of her most charming smiles. "Hi, welcome to Venus Vogue. Have a seat," she led the woman with an opened-palm gesture to a nearby chair. "I'll be with you shortly."

A single curt nod was what she got, and five-inch heels clacked against the floor, like hollow bursts of gunshots, as the woman all but glided into the chair with a grace that was the envy of all onlookers.

Minako took large strides to her equipment case and hurriedly straightened out her work attire of a form-fitting shirt and hip-hugging jeans when there was absolutely no urgent need to. She always looked impeccably presentable. There was something however, about the stunning woman that practically screamed at her to look her best, and she had to toss a glance over her shoulder to ensure that there really wasn't a sign hovering above the woman's head that said precisely that.

As she walked briskly back to her new customer, she passed Haruka who spared her a 'ganbate!' and a thumbs up before resuming her task of highlighting a patron's hair. On any other day, she would have merely rolled her eyes, but today seemed to beg all the luck she could get. She didn't know why.

"So, what can I do for you today?" Minako inquired, winning smile in place as she gently tugged off the silk hair tie and ran her fingers through vibrant black tresses, getting a feel of its volume and condition. She marveled at the silky texture and approved of the care the luxurious mane clearly got.

Smoky violet eyes met hers in the mirror as a velvety voice spoke. Minako barely repressed a delightful shudder. "Just a trim and a wash, Aino-san."

Good communication on a personal level was highly important in her line of work, yet she had all but forgotten her customary conduct. "Ah, I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" she apologized and placed both hands on the shoulders in front of her, feeling a tingle creep up her spine. "How may I address you?"

Full lips curved up in a light smile. "Hino Rei."

The name rang a bell, but she couldn't place a finger on it. She pushed the thought aside for the moment.

Minako clicked open her case and fished out her favourite pair of light-weight scissors, perfect for clean cuts. "Would you like to keep the length?" She inspected the ends and picked out several split ones. "Or would you mind about an inch off? The ends are rather . . . disobedient." Her voice carried gentle laughter as she gazed intently at Rei's reflection before her, admiring the high cheekbones and strong bone structure.

"Whatever you think is best, Aino-san."

There was a pause as their gazes remained locked, and then Rei purred, "Pamper me."

The last request was so sensual that she had to fight to force down a rising blush. Her knees had gone remarkably wobbly. She focused instead on making small talk, hoping that she wasn't being too flustered as she put her arms around Rei's shoulders to pull a plastic sheet in place. "You have very lovely hair Hino-san, great elasticity, good shine . . . What products do you use?"

Minako clipped up sections of thick ebony hair, beginning from the bottom up. Rei's hair was rather straight, curling only slightly at the ends and since it was layered from her previous cut, Minako thought it safer to work around the style.

"My own."

Minako looked up sharply, her hands paused mid-cut. "Your . . . own?"

Smooth laughter gushed from smiling lips. Rei looked straight at Minako's reflection, bemused at her wide-eyed expression. "Homemade," she clarified. "For hair masks at least, though I do have bottles of Kerastase and Sebastian and other whatnots lying around."

Impressed, Minako resumed her work but couldn't refrain from pressing. "Homemade huh. Come now, let's not be selfish. Do share with me, Hino-san." She cracked an impish smile, feeling completely at ease with the woman before her all of a sudden.

Rei tutted disapprovingly, a roguish glint in her violet eyes. "I'm disappointed, Aino-san. Shouldn't you know that a woman's beauty secrets must never be shared? 'Every man is the architect of his own fortune', as they say."

"Yet I know that 'To teach, is to learn'," Minako riposted sagely, chuckling at the sculpted brow that the elegant woman raised. "'To give is better than to receive', blah blah blah . . . and all that proverbial mumbo jumbo." She chuckled and placed a foot to the pedal beneath the chair and raised it to have a better look at Rei's hair, studying the length with a trained eye. Plucking a comb from her case, she proceeded to cut long layers, giving more fullness to the bottom. She didn't have to look up to know that violet eyes were on her, watching her every movement, burning into her, calculating and considering.

"True, very true," the raven-haired beauty replied leisurely and tapped her chin in thought. "Give me a good scalp massage later and I'll let you in on one of my concoctions. What do you say, Aino-san?" Minako froze as Rei's eyes grew half-lidded. "Trade you a secret for a wash from your . . . stimulating hands."

Said hands almost dropped the pair of scissors at the steamy whisper that the woman's contralto dropped to. Minako tried, but it was almost impossible to quell the pure bodily reflex of blood surging up to her face. She was convinced that no one – not even a nun – would be able to do so, short of turning into helpless putty on the salon floor.

"I uh . . . D-deal!"

"I'm looking forward to it, Aino-san" A slight pucker of lips, then a smirk.

Her mind wasn't on her work as much as it was acutely aware of the blazing trail that Rei's eyes lit ablaze as they roamed her face and what little of her body not hidden by the chair that could be seen in the mirror. She refused to look into them. She completely, adamantly, simply refused. The last thing she needed was for her co-workers to mop up an unsightly puddle of Minako from her spotlessly shiny floor. As it were, she could see Haruka openly laughing at her and Michiru trying in vain to stifle a chuckle out of the corner of her eye.

She was definitely holding back the bonuses this month.

Idiots. We'll see who's laughing after a salary reduction.

She snipped away at raven strands, inwardly cursing to herself. Before her was a woman – hell, a sex goddess – who not only obviously knew she was drop-dead gorgeous, but knew damn well how to flaunt it. Minako was quite the flirt herself when she wanted to be, but Rei had shaken her, rattled her mercilessly with her presence on its own that she was far too disorientated to play dolls with her.

Damn her.

Despite her imperceptibly shaking hands, she managed to make the ends of Rei's hair jagged, a softer look with a slightly A-line shape. An attractive contrast to her strong features.

Minako slipped her scissors and comb back into their case. "There. What do you think?"

Rei nodded her approval. "I like it."

She didn't know where it came from, but she was struck with a sudden boldness. Minako rested her hands firmly on Rei's shoulders. "Hino-san, I'll have to ask you to wait here patiently while I go . . . prepare . . . for your mind-blowing massage."

Rei was surprised at the turn in tables, but recovered quickly. "Oh, rest assured Aino-san, I'm not running off anywhere. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"I'll hold you to that." And with a sexy grin and a wink, she sashayed towards the basins, a pair of intense violet eyes fixed on the sway of her hips.

As expected, both Michiru and Haruka were waiting for her, practically pouncing on her the moment she walked round the divider that separated the salon from the basins.

"What are you doing? Don't you have customers to attend to?" Minako hissed as they pulled her safely behind the wall, out of sight from one particular customer.

They ignored her interrogation.

"Oh my God Minako-san, she's totally got the hots for you! I bet you she's a model! There's absolutely no reason for you not to bed her tonight!"

"Shut up, Haruka. And you know I don't sleep with customers."

Minako shook them off and went to the shelf of shampoo bottles.

Michiru spoke up less crudely, though she certainly had trouble keeping the laughter out of her voice with a delicate hand covering her mouth. "She is quite gorgeous . . ."

Minako plucked a bottle from the top and turned to glower at her co-workers. "Et tu, Michiru?" she placed a melodramatic hand to her chest. "Clearly Haruka's been rubbing off on you." She threw a dark look at the sandy-haired woman who raised her palms in the air as if to say 'Don't look at me".

Minako crossed her arms. "I swear, if the two of you weren't my most talented stylists, I'd fire you in a heartbeat."

The dirty-blonde with a mop of stylishly tousled, out-of-bed hair waved her hands frantically. "Now, now, Minako-san. We didn't mean any harm. We're just concerned for you. After all, it's been a long while since you've had a good fu-"

A towel was roughly tossed at her face, effectively muffling her words.

"Ara . . ." The aqua-haired stylist began softly, starting a little as Minako snapped her attention towards her, as if daring her to carry on what Haruka had failed to. "Ignore her, Minako-san. You know how she is always looking out for you." The stylist brushed a loose curl behind an ear.

Haruka pulled the towel off her face and gave Michiru an indignant look. "Hey, I can speak for myself you know!" She turned to Minako. "Really, you should take what I said into considera-"

And she barely had time to dodge a bottle of conditioner as it sailed towards her head.

"Can it." Minako growled as she grabbed a fresh towel and stalked out with a bottle in hand, leaving her co-workers behind, one insisting on her opinion and the other berating her for her callousness.

It was uncanny how it seemed as though the air out here was thicker than when she was at the basins. She shook herself out of it and headed towards the woman, whom – now that she had the opportunity to observe her from a distance – actually did have a model's figure, and her pricey salon chair was naught but a mere prop for what seemed like a perfect picture for a magazine cover. Minako could see it in her head: It would be glossy, with dim orange lighting, and Rei would be wearing much less, a slender finger crooked in a come-hither manner . . .

Minako clenched her teeth. Damn it!

Rei was typing away at her PDA when Minako walked up behind her, settling a towel over her shoulders. "I must be rather special for you to spend so much time preparing."

Minako flashed a wry smile. "Always the best for my customers," she replied smoothly, her eyes helplessly tracing the strong curve of the woman's jaw.

"I see," Rei flashed a flirtatiously crooked grin.

Minako bit her lip. "You ready?"

Intense violet eyes met her cerulean ones in the mirror. "As ready as I'll ever be," she drawled and put away her PDA.

Minako flipped open the bottle cover deftly, pouring out a steady stream onto the head of dark hair before her, her other hand busying itself with foaming up a rich lather. She continued till Rei's hair was gathered into a neat pile on her head, expectant and inviting. Minako closed the bottle and put it aside.

She steeled herself mentally and slid her hands into the heap of luscious hair.

Minako started by raking the pads of her fingers gently along Rei's scalp with controlled pressure. She never used her nails. No self-respecting hairstylist would, she would like to think, because nails damaged hair follicles. She then proceeded to make small circles with her thumbs at the nape of a slender neck, placing more pressure on the upward stroke to boost blood circulation.

She glanced up at Rei's reflection, noting with satisfaction that she had closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of Minako's hands on her scalp. I'm so gonna get that recipe.

Her fingers edged upwards, splaying out to surround Rei's cranium, pressing down steadily as she made rhythmic contractions. It could have well been her imagination, but she thought that Rei's breathing had become somewhat shallow, her shoulders rising and falling increasingly as Minako continued her ministrations.

Rei's mouth parted slightly as her head involuntarily tilted backwards.

All other movement and sounds in the salon seemed to fade away into white noise as she moved into the next technique, dragging her fingers slowly, almost sensually along Rei's scalp, brushing repeatedly against the soft skin between her hairline and her ear.

A soft moan slipped from succulent lips.

Minako froze. Oh my . . .

She looked up into the mirror just as violet eyes shot open in shock, meeting hers for a split second before darting away in embarrassment. An equally vibrant shade of scarlet dusted their cheeks, and Minako felt a rush of molten heat gather in the pit of her stomach.

She did the only professional thing to do.

She resumed.

Minako steered clear from all sensitive regions, lips pursed tightly as her head swirled, a throbbing began between her legs. At this point, she really couldn't care less about a damned homemade hair mask.

Rei kept her eyes down, focusing on something or another on her lap. They weren't looking at her anymore and Minako found some part of her mourning the loss.

She was done after a minute, having shortened all other techniques in her nervousness and quickly wiped her hands on a spare towel. Minako motioned for Rei to follow her. "Come."

It was only when Rei stumbled while stepping out of her seat with all the grace of a pregnant orangutan that Minako realized what a loaded word she had just used.

"I-I mean uh . . . f-follow me," she rushed, smiling shakily. She hurriedly led the way to the basins, convinced she was going to lose control of her speech soon, among other things.

Minako found herself fumbling with the shower head as Rei lay in front of her, stretched out on the reclining seat, blazer gaping open to reveal a tantalizing collar bone. She mentally slapped herself. So much for being professional.

Taking deep, calming breaths, she rinsed out the foam in Rei's hair. But even that didn't work well because before she knew it, Rei was sputtering and clawing at her shampoo covered eye.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Minako blurted out, and as fast and gentle as she could, washed off the dollop of lather that she had so marvelously splattered onto a violet eye.

"S'okay" Rei managed waveringly and shook her head.

Once done, she turned off the faucet and wrapped up the hair in a dry towel, guiding Rei back to her seat by the crook of her elbow as her breath came in fast heaves. Everything was one gigantic blur, and she was moving based solely on routine. Her mind had effectively taken a nice, long vacation while her hormones were in the house for a gig. How very juvenile.

She was gripping the blow-dryer a little too tightly, if her white knuckles had any say in it that is, and all her mind was doing, was replaying that breathy moan with increasing frequency and volume in her poor, muddled head. She remembered the red, parted lips, the perfectly shadowed eyelids fluttering closed, the creamy skin exposed with the titillating tilt of a head . . .

"Aino-san." A voice belonging to the owner of the throat she had been mentally ravishing snapped her out of her daze.

Her blood ran cold. Had she been caught staring? Well, she supposed that wouldn't be half as bad as compared to being caught with her eyes glazed over with desire. She barely stifled a tiny 'Eep' that threatened to bring all her years of hard work crashing down in a pile of humiliation.

"Y-yes?" Her eyes betrayed a certain degree of guilt as she saw in her own reflection and wiping the deer-caught-in-headlights look was proving to be much more of an obstacle than she had imagined it to be. She just knew there would be severe consequences for not attending yoga classes regularly. She was losing control of her facial muscles for crying out loud!

Rei's speech was measured and unfaltering, something which Minako envied regardless of the strain she heard behind it. "I'll hold my end of the deal." A small smile licked the ends of her lips as they made eye contact.

Well now, she had broached the topic, but Minako was sure that neither of them wanted to delve into the volatile details. It was admirable though, really, and she was looking at Rei with newfound respect after that. Somehow, there was some form of closure to things and she relaxed just a little, realizing only then how stiff she had been.

Minako directed the hot air of the dryer downwards, giving Rei's hair a sleek finish before replacing the blow-dryer.

The alluring woman rose out of her seat in one fluid movement - worlds apart from minutes before - and sauntered towards the counter, trendy tote bag in hand. "I'll come by another time, have it ready for you," she said and fished around her bag for her purse.

Minako walked behind the counter, waving her hands dismissively. "It's not urgent, don't trouble yourself over it."

"I'll have it ready for you," she repeated firmly, violet eyes boring into hers, and if not for the nature of the statement, Minako would've thought it a command instead.

She nodded almost meekly as she returned Rei's credit card. "Ok."

And there was no other exchange or words, just unsteady smiles on both faces before Rei was gone with the clack of heels and an echoing tinkle of a bell.

Her legs suddenly unable to hold up her lean frame any longer, Minako collapsed into a salon chair with a groan, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. The day was still early, yet she felt utterly shot. Now, if only she could stop her head from spinning. . .

She could feel Haruka come up behind her, like a dark, ominous presence, and she didn't have to turn to know that a smug smile was probably plastered across her boyish features by now.

Minako growled.

"Cancel all my appointments for today. I'm calling a sick leave."