A Close Shave/Shock/Shave/Salon
Persuading Daisy that a salon would be the best option wasn't easy. The problem is that if you do it for her, getting that close and personal with her pussy, and whatever that might lead to, is a problem. Even though, for some strange reason, she seems really keen that it should be you, you think that the salon would be the best and safest bet for both of you. She is understandably reluctant to let a stranger do it, fearful of potential pain and embarrassment, but in the end, you bribe her with the promise of dinner in an upmarket restaurant and a new dress.
You make an appointment and meet her outside her school, still in her uniform of white shirt and tartan skirt. You can't help noticing that the skirt is rather short. You are convinced that these uniforms are designed by men.
You take her to a café and you have a coffee while she has a cola to wash down the two paracetamol you give her. The salon is in a small alley off the main street, and its only a short walk. Parking is a problem, so you came on the bus. She makes a last-minute appeal for you to do it and you end up giving her the option of having it done there or not at all. You know that you will regret that ultimatum later, but lead her through the door anyway.
The first area is a normal hairdressing/beauty salon, but the assistant leads you through to a private area at the back. It's a pleasant enough room, decorated in pastel shades, with a small desk and chair in one corner, an armchair in another, and, dominating the room, a large complicated looking adjustable chair, similar to a dentist's chair.
There were some formalities to go through. Mostly, consent forms because of her age. The woman who was going to do it insisted that you had to stay with her. "It's usually the mother, but I guess you could stay up by her head," she says. A powerful memory of the day Daisy was born, and you stood at the top of the bed having your hand crushed by her mother, came into your head as you stood by your daughter holding her hand for reassurance.
As warm wax was spread over her mound Daisy began to relax. When the pad was ripped away, taking her hair with it, you cringe and she squeaks, but grits her teeth and assures you that "it's not too bad." The woman gets her to help spread the folds of her labia out, so she can wax that area. Your hand suffers again as, with several rips, the rest of her pubic hair is removed.
"There," the woman says as she rubs on some soothing cream. "Smooth as a baby's bum." She holds up a mirror so Daisy can see the result and you can't help looking. Your cock instantly reacts at the sight of her beautiful pussy and even though you feel guilty, you can't take your eyes off it. "You may want to leave these off for a while." The woman is holding Daisy's knickers. Daisy sits up, cautiously rubbing her thighs together and you stuff her knickers in your pocket.
On the bus home, Daisy keeps her knees firmly together and giggles a lot at the idea of going commando in public. At home, she takes ages in the bathroom and then in her room getting ready to go out. Newly pressed slacks and a clean shirt are good enough for you, but Daisy has gone all out. "What do you think," she says as she walks into the sitting room.
Your jaw drops as you look up and see a vision of her mother. She is wearing a pale pink dress that you have never seen before and the colour goes perfectly with her caramel skin. She has even found some high-heels from somewhere and she is wearing a hint of make up. Suddenly, she looks so grown up and you are gobsmacked.
"Do you like it," she says, twirling round. The skirt flies up, revealing a lot of smooth young thigh and you can't help wondering if she's wearing any underwear. "Mum bought it in a charity shop last year, but it was too big.
You stand up and hold your arms out for a hug. "You are absolutely gorgeous. There will be a lot of men jealous of me tonight," you say. She's wearing some kind of musky perfume and you have to gently disengage as your traitorous cock begins to push out the front of your slacks. The sound of a horn saves you. "Taxi's here. After you my lady," you say, steering her in front.
The restaurant is Italian and you used to be a regular customer with Daisy's mother. Luigi, the owner greets you and you introduce Daisy. "Sei una bella ragazza. Quanto sei elegante!" There are more complements as he takes us to our table and even though Daisy doesn't speak Italian, she certainly understands.
We start with the aperitivo and a glass of champagne which makes Daisy giggle as the bubbles go up her nose. The courses follow on: smokes salmon antipasti, soup, a lamb dish and on to dessert - sorbetto for you and, of course, gelato for Daisy. Conscious of her tender age, Luigi gave Daisy sparkling water to go with the food, but cannot resist producing a half-bottle of Vin Santo from his home region of Tuscany.
As you predicted, several of the other diners looked askance at a man, entertaining a beautiful young woman, half his age. Daisy acted up and behaved more like a girlfriend than a daughter - blowing kisses across the table and putting her hand on yours between courses. She even slipped off a shoe and rubbed a foot against your leg - something she must have seen in a film.
By the end of the meal, you are both a little bit drunk