Tess
Either Officer Wallace was the coolest cucumber in the patch, or he was too stupid to know exactly how far in over his head he was. He had moxy, as my Pap used to say, and he was certainly the best-looking officer I’d ever seen. But I shuddered to think of him walking into the lion’s den armed with only his underwear model smile and his Quantico orientation handbook tucked under his arm. Sasha would have him chopped up and fed to the dogs by morning.
“You okay in there?” I asked through the bathroom door.
“You weren’t kidding about the water pressure,” Officer Wallace replied.
“The nearest water tower is only a block away from this building. It’s one of the reasons I chose this place.”
I heard him turn the water off and slide the shower curtain open and I fought back the urge to take a peek at him through the door’s turn of the century keyhole. After a minute, a shirtless and glistening Cameron Wallace stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom with only a towel around his waist. Iprayed to God that my poker face was on point, because I’d never wanted to sexually attack someone before in my life, but I did right now.
Lord, help me.
I seriously did right now.
“You fi—you find everything okay in there?” I asked, my voice cracking, slightly.
“Not much to it. Water, soap. Wash, rinse, repeat. That sort of thing,” he replied.
“You repeat, huh?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “Never felt like I had the hair to warrant it. My oldest brother, on the other hand, has a head of hair most women envy.”
“Maybe next time it’ll be him in my barber’s chair,” I said, pointing to the stool sitting in the center of my tiny kitchen.”
Officer Wallace shook his head. “All the training in the world wouldn’t help you in a fight against his woman, should you cut a single hair on my brother’s head.”
“She’s the jealous type, huh?”
“No, just protective of his hair,” he replied. “I honestly think she might love his fuckin’ hair more than she loves him.”
“Speaking of hair, let’s get you shaved.”
“This is weird,” Officer Wallace said with a groan. “I’ve never let anyone shave me before and we just met.”
“Have you ever shaved with a straight razor before?” I asked, trying not to stare at his perfectly sculpted abs.
“Nope,” he replied.
“Then it’s probably a bad idea to start now, unless you want to meet Sasha Fedya looking like you just lost a knife fight.”
Wallace took a seat on the stool, and I could have sworn I heard his cock slip out from underneath his towel, hitting the kitchen floor with a thud. Then again it may have been an auditory hallucination brought on by the presence of a hot half-naked man in the kitchen of an involuntarily celibate woman.
“You ready?” I asked, to which he nodded. “Trust me,” I said. “I’m really good at this.”
On the counter was a basin of hot water, a towel, a foaming brush, cup and lather bar. In my hand was an ivory-handled straight razor. Freshly sharpened with a leather strop. Straight razor shaving was a skill I’d acquired as a child, thanks to my father, and had kept up as an adult. It was during puberty when I discovered that shaving my legs and underarms with a straight razor caused less skin irritation and ingrown hairs and provided a much closer shave.
Since Wallace had just showered and we were on a bit of a time crunch I decided to forgo the usual hot towel facial, moving straight to lathering up some foam and generously applying to his face and neck. He smelled amazing, and the scent of the fresh shaving foam against his skin was driving me half insane. For a moment I was scared that my hand would shake from nerves and that I’d nick him, but fortunately the wave of school-girl horny hysteria passed long enough for me to shave his neck without incident. I then moved on to his face. Studying every line and curve as I carefully followed them with myblade, Officer Wallace sitting steady as a rock as I did my work.
Steady, until he wasn’t, that is.
* * *
Cameron
I have a handful of beautiful memories with some amazing women. A shared sunset while backpacking in the Colombia River Gorge. The taste of freshly shucked oysters and champaign on the lips of Miss Maine on New Years Eve. Even the smell of the lip balm the first girl I ever kissed was wearing. It was peach and the girl broke up with me the next day. But you must believe me when I say that Tess’s shave was the single-handed sexiest thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life. So much so that I began to wonder if this was another one of her tests. I had even entertained the thought that she was a double officer and was about to cut my throat at any moment, but it hardly mattered. At least I’d die happy.
Tess’s hands felt amazing against my skin as she lathered my face with warm shaving foam. Her touch mixed with exhaustion felt euphoric, and even the steel of her razor brought comfort. Her hands were steady and true with each pass of her blade, and I can’t quite explain it but something about the way she worked made me trust her. Her movements felt deliberate, yet graceful and elegant.
