The Fate Of The Tonsorial Artist

Knowing Her

“What manner of humility does he possess, despite this luxury?” Johnson questioned.

He gently arranged his used tools into their compartments. The crispy dollar note was slowly folded into two, then shoved into his left pocket by the edge of his trouser.

“Set up the meeting with Kiyamoki”

He overheard these words faint away into the atmosphere. The billionaire’s shadow disappeared through the other different golden exit door, but his fragrance still engulfed the room.

“Remember, to the right turn that takes you to lift, then press 2. You would meet her there”

These words rang slowly in his head. The more he thought of her, the hotter his balls got and it began rising again. His cock.

“Oh damn!”

“She's not even here and you are getting up buddy” he mumbled, gently stroking his manhood with his hands.

“You've got to remain down buddy, there might be cameras around” he whispered to himself.

“Room 2” “Room 2” “Turn to the right” he echoed.

It was a tug of war between the thoughts of her curvy countenance, her seductive moves and the direction to Room 2.

“Man oh man”

“Who the heck am I meeting in Room 2?” staring deeply at the short manuscript handed over to him by Ortiz Alvarez.

Night was nigh. The blistering chandeliers and golden lightings fought against darkness. Joyous and elated, he moved his bag away from the ruby tiled floor. His eyes still fixated on the manuscript, as he moved his legs slowly towards the exit door.

The door beeped, then slid to the right, paving way for him to pass. He recalled. The tedious scrutiny at the gate, the hefty security personnels mounted there. Tons of high-tech security gadgets. What sort of wealth does his client amass?

It takes a lot of hard work and investment to get to this position. Johnson pondered silently.

There it was. The elevator, boldly staring at the anxious barber.

“Oh God. Finally!” His hands hitting against the buttons.

“Two” he mumbled, holding on to his bag and the manuscript tightly.

Ding. Ding.

The sounds were low and sharp. The doors of the elevator opened gently.

Right in front of him, a gigantic golden door. His eyes tilted up to the body inscription on the door’s edge.

“Oh, alright, Room 2. Perfect” he voiced in excitement.

Like a lion who just caught its prey with precision, he moved his legs towards the entrance of the supposed room.

His gaze narrowed into a squint the moment he opened the door.

“Wow” stunned, mouth opened wide for a sec.

The lights that shone into his eyes were so bright. He tilted immediately to the other end. He remained speechless. What sort of edifice is this?

“ Ohh well, I have to…….”

“Hey Buddy, that's the way to the balcony. Come with me”

He froze.

She had the same complexion, the exact voice, few wrinkles on her face, short curly hair. Dressed in a long huge gown, hiding all her physical features.

“This way buddy, my husband texted me about your arrival” she voiced in a soft tone.

“Oh yes ma”

“The menu is with you already, perfect,” she added.

Johnson was fully engrossed in the aroma that engulfed the door in front of them. She was the older carbon copy of the girl that turned him up. But Mrs Alvarez was more fairier in complexion.

“There you go!” With her hand stretched out. “Feel at home” “Serve your preferred choice from the menu” this time her hands tapped his shoulders in reassurance.

From his tongues, down to his jaw and lips. They were all mute. But his head danced in acknowledgement.

“When you are done, use the cell phone. Vivi would come escort you to the main exit way” she smiled, moving her hands away from his shoulders now.

“Vivi” the word replayed again in his head. He felt his cock tilt in agility.

There he was, standing in front of numerous delicacies. “Stay professional and maintain composure” the words of his boss rang through his skull. Something simple, not complex.

His legs thumped the innocent ruby tiles, surfing towards the racks. He carefully lifted a flat golden plate.

“Damn. What a privilege” he mumbled.

He scanned every delicacy, sizzling and salivating. Neither was he bothered about the hour on the clock. Mr Emerson knows that when it's a Billionaire’s trim, there would be a huge sacrifice of time.

With caution, he scooped three portions, flanked by a huge chunk of chicken. Right on the blistering table laid the full jar of juice. “Rice is quite a simple and light meal” he whispered to himself.

“I would be wealthy. Damn!”

The heavy grinning didn't disrupt the flow of his moving mouth. His spoon dug deep, carefully scooping mass volume of grain, transported to his mouth.

The heavy nods of amusement and gigantic division of the chicken rolled in synchrony. Carefully, he took heavy chunks down his oesophagus, diluting it with the fruit juice that stared at him. He wasn't hasty. Professionally and with composure. That was his quota . Courtesy of a disciplined guardian.

“There he is” the voice came.

He recognized the scent, he knew this tone. Sultry and angelic. But I never used the phone. He wondered. The strawberry fragrance smacked every wall of his nostrils. His pants felt heavy. This same enchanting voice. Composure was leaving, professionalism battled his soul.

“Hope you enjoyed your meal, Mr stylist” her voice was softer this time.

“Call me Johnson”

His head slowly moved away from the plate, straight into her smiling face. The fragrance had swallowed him. Such tight proximity. He felt her arm clash against his. He moved his hand to the tiny strands of hair on his chin.

“Nah, I would call you Jonnie”

“Jonnie is fine for me” she stretched her voice more.

“You know there could be cameras around, are you trying to jeopardize the rela….”

“Shusshhhhhh” her finger moved.

It landed softly on his upper lips, sliding down to the lower part. She gummed her body against his. He could feel the warmth. Beneath his pants was a trembling movement. Blood gushed through his veins, ran down to his thighs.

“Oh fuck” he whispered lowly.

Her cleavage was visible.This gown was different from the one he saw earlier. Her breast blended with the color of her skin, but more creamier.

“I own this empire also. You are safe with me” her voice low, directly into the left ear.

Her other hand had moved. Down and slow. He felt the slow massage. His thighs were hot now. Like an eagle, she visualized it. The rock between his legs. It stood erected now. Her lips were a meter away from his.

“When I saw you handled my dad's hair. I knew you were the one for me. I want you” she confessed.

Johnson drowned in his thoughts. The wetness of her lips that glued against his ears, pinned his soul.

“We just mmm…” he got restricted.

Her lower lips grabbed his upper lips. They got locked passionately. Every finger moved gently from his thighs up the rocky region. Huge and firm she perceived. The other hand grabbed Johnson's hand, voluntarily resting it on her cleavage.

He needed no instructions, carefully he caressed her left breast. She stroked his cock. She let out a soft moan. Johnson closed his eyes, enjoying the moist and succulency.

She let go of his lips. Like a snail drawing back into its shell, she slid down to his laps. Her hand fondled the zipper.

“Erm, are you sure you want to…..” with a low shaky voice, with his eyes bent down

“Shusshhhhhh” with a sultry interruption, further gumming her lips against his frightened mouth.

“You are with me, you are safe” with a reassuring tone.

Her hands became robotic. Johnson compressed every flame of professionalism and composure that burned through his soul. Heavily drowned in the sea of lust. He set his gaze at her.

“Oh gosh” he could barely hear her voice.

The veins that decorated the walls , the pink cap it wore , the fleshy compartment it embodied. Her stares and the way she held it, massaging it with both hands. Pure worship and adoration.

“Fuck! Love it big” with her eyes closed in confession.

Each gulp made his leg shiver. He had never experienced this before. He overheard conversations months ago in the chair, about how this sort of activity sends a man to cloud nine.

Whup!

Whup!

Whup!

He moaned softly. Vivian slowly moved her mouth around his cock. They were charged now, ready to attack.

“Ohh fuck, Vivi” his voice lost in lust now.

She could feel her panties get moist. He had uttered her pet name. Her tongue became the lead weapon. She increased the pulsations.

His legs danced in rhythm to each moisten gulp. In split seconds, she released his cock. She raised her body up , towards his face.

Johnson felt it. The wetness and the slippery surface. She had moved his fingers towards the pink G-string panties she wore. She grinned when he shifted it to one side.

“Oh fuck!”

His fingers were assistedly moved into her. He felt the warmth of her walls and the juiciness that surrounds it.

“Don't stop, just continue” she whispered into his ears .

Like moving his trimmers against grains of hair on the head, he moved his fingers slowly back and forth. He then switched, his cock was charged and hungry, ready to devour. He didn't throb immediately, he remembered every scene of the visual, he gently slid it in. Her butt was turned now, one leg raised on the table. He surfed slowly, basking in the soft low moans of Vivian. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, one hand gripped against the table, the other placed on his neck.

“Oh Jimenez is dead. What!” The voice, sharp and thunderous, blasts through the corridors, directly at the door of the kitchen.

With flash they split. The sound buzzed heavily and darkness covered the whole room.