I haven't posted in a while, but I gotta write this down somewhere...
Anyone else who's sprung wood when their hair stylist's breast ever so casually grazes their arm while she focuses on trimming their scalp will appreciate the high hopes I had after running across an ad for a girl in the D.C. area who offers topless haircuts and FBSM. How great would it be to go out and blow off a little pent up sexual energy while getting something accomplished at the same time? I ran across MaryJane's ad on Eros, and here's my review.
In short, she fucked up my hair, and gave a shitty massage. Read on for the details.
I set up a same day appointment easily enough over the phone. She does not live near a metro stop, which sucks since driving around there is a headache. I made the drive, and when I walked into her condo the place smelled like a mix of dog and cigarette smoke. This of course is one of those red flags that should make you immediately leave. But I stayed.
As far as her looks go, some of the pictures from her ad are her, but any showing a flat tummy are not; and all the pics hide her face, which is nothing to get excited about and has a schnoz planted in the middle of it that came from the Streisand mold.
She ushered me into her kitchen, which got my hopes up because it has what appears to be an authentic barber chair in it. She sat me down, pulled out some pink electric clippers, some combs, took off her top and went to work. On the up side, she owns a nice pair of natural Ds that look fantastic. On the downside, they were attached to the rest of her body, including her unskilled hands and her constantly running mouth. I couldn't tell what the hell she was doing to my hair with those clippers, but it was clear that she'd never been trained with any technique and maybe had started practicing on some dolls a few weeks earlier. After about 15 minutes I asked if we could move on to the message and I'd take care of the haircut later, but she insisted she was almost done. This only made her more nervous, thus more sweaty and more smelly.
While cutting my hair, she blabbed about utter nonsense. She cuts hair for lobbyists. She chilled out with Snoop Dogg. She used to cut hair at a black barber shop. She got fired from a job because someone accused her of giving her ex-husband a BJ in the car during her shift. In one breath she claimed that she graduated from her H.S., in another state, in 2005; then in the next said she started living in this area right before 9/11. Is she that bad at making shit up or does she really not know when the 9/11 attacks happened? I wanted to leave.
Anyway, we moved on to the massage on a soft-mattress bed (horrible!), which came complete with foul-smelling massage oil. She got completely nude, but honestly the only thing worth looking at on this chick were those knockers. She continued blabbing about her sexual fetishes, which are bizarre, and all the weird things her clients like. None of it mattered, though, because when I asked her for a simple BJ, she said no. In other words, she was all talk and no game. Not once during the entire encounter did my little soldier even make an attempt at standing at attention. If I were more regular in this game I'd have demanded my money back, but I chalked it up to the cost of learning and thought about how I could warn others against making the same mistake I did. That was it.
Oh, she let me use her shower, but the body wash she had on hand also made me smell like shit. That was where I first got to see what a number she did on my hair.
Never again.
Anyone else who's sprung wood when their hair stylist's breast ever so casually grazes their arm while she focuses on trimming their scalp will appreciate the high hopes I had after running across an ad for a girl in the D.C. area who offers topless haircuts and FBSM. How great would it be to go out and blow off a little pent up sexual energy while getting something accomplished at the same time? I ran across MaryJane's ad on Eros, and here's my review.
In short, she fucked up my hair, and gave a shitty massage. Read on for the details.
I set up a same day appointment easily enough over the phone. She does not live near a metro stop, which sucks since driving around there is a headache. I made the drive, and when I walked into her condo the place smelled like a mix of dog and cigarette smoke. This of course is one of those red flags that should make you immediately leave. But I stayed.
As far as her looks go, some of the pictures from her ad are her, but any showing a flat tummy are not; and all the pics hide her face, which is nothing to get excited about and has a schnoz planted in the middle of it that came from the Streisand mold.
She ushered me into her kitchen, which got my hopes up because it has what appears to be an authentic barber chair in it. She sat me down, pulled out some pink electric clippers, some combs, took off her top and went to work. On the up side, she owns a nice pair of natural Ds that look fantastic. On the downside, they were attached to the rest of her body, including her unskilled hands and her constantly running mouth. I couldn't tell what the hell she was doing to my hair with those clippers, but it was clear that she'd never been trained with any technique and maybe had started practicing on some dolls a few weeks earlier. After about 15 minutes I asked if we could move on to the message and I'd take care of the haircut later, but she insisted she was almost done. This only made her more nervous, thus more sweaty and more smelly.
While cutting my hair, she blabbed about utter nonsense. She cuts hair for lobbyists. She chilled out with Snoop Dogg. She used to cut hair at a black barber shop. She got fired from a job because someone accused her of giving her ex-husband a BJ in the car during her shift. In one breath she claimed that she graduated from her H.S., in another state, in 2005; then in the next said she started living in this area right before 9/11. Is she that bad at making shit up or does she really not know when the 9/11 attacks happened? I wanted to leave.
Anyway, we moved on to the massage on a soft-mattress bed (horrible!), which came complete with foul-smelling massage oil. She got completely nude, but honestly the only thing worth looking at on this chick were those knockers. She continued blabbing about her sexual fetishes, which are bizarre, and all the weird things her clients like. None of it mattered, though, because when I asked her for a simple BJ, she said no. In other words, she was all talk and no game. Not once during the entire encounter did my little soldier even make an attempt at standing at attention. If I were more regular in this game I'd have demanded my money back, but I chalked it up to the cost of learning and thought about how I could warn others against making the same mistake I did. That was it.
Oh, she let me use her shower, but the body wash she had on hand also made me smell like shit. That was where I first got to see what a number she did on my hair.
Never again.