Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY ext 357
It’s been forever since I went to a proper salon to get my hair done. Normally, I buy a box of color and go at it myself. Probably because I love the anxiety of not knowing how it will turn out. Today, however, I wanted to be pampered. I was longing for someone to scrub their fingers in my hair while lathering the shampoo. Then using that warm, clean water to rinse it clean.
The place was empty. Just one tall, muscular man who didn’t look like he knew a thing about hair was waiting when I stepped in. “I’d like a cut and color.” I smiled and he looked me up and down.