Read Online Irrepressible You by Georgina Penney - Free Book Online
Authors: Georgina Penney
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beauty industry. The second thing he noticed was the décor, which managed to be blatantly contrived, yet comfortable at the same time.
The pale pink walls contrasted with the white enamel skirting boards, shelves and window frames. The wall closest to him featured a giant poster promoting the movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes , with Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell displaying maximum leg; the opposite wall held three ornate gilt mirrors arranged a metre or so apart. Each mirror had a plush rose-pink leather chair facing it. The back of the room was completely sectioned off with a white screen featuring large polka dots.
The overall effect should have been cloying but it wasn’t; it conveyed the same level of welcome and comfort as the barber shop. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t comforting was the distinct absence of the proprietor. Instead, he was greeted by a whippet-thin redhead wearing the ugliest green dress Ben had ever seen. She was curled up in one of the chairs, looking him up and down with a bemused smile.
‘Anyone home?’ He clasped his hands behind his back and wandered down to the back of the shop to inspect the area behind the screen, which contained a small room, ostensibly for those beauty treatments not fit for company, a small kitchen and another door, which was currently closed.
‘I am. Amy will be back in a few seconds,’ the redhead announced in a low, surprisingly strong voice. She had a more clipped, refined Australian accent than Amy’s. It spoke of money, and lots of it, somewhere in the family tree. ‘I’m Myf.’
‘Myf?’ Ben raised a brow.
‘Short for Myfanwy. Before you ask, Mum’s Welsh. I’m Amy’s friend. You’re Ben, right?’ Her gaze was steady and Ben got the distinct impression his every movement was being thoroughly judged. Interesting.
‘The man himself. Do you work here?’ Ben examined a row of nail polishes mounted on a narrow white shelf set above a white spindle-legged table with two chairs either side. He wondered why any woman would want pea-soup-green nails.
‘Only as backup. Normally I’m an artist and yoga teacher, but both are too much fun to call jobs.’ Myf gave him such a warm smile that Ben found himself wandering over and parking himself in the chair next to hers.
‘An artist? Are we talking empty white rooms with used underwear scattered around, great steaming piles of excrement turned into sculpture, or the more palatable stuff you hang on walls?’ He propped an elbow on the arm of his chair and spun it around to face her.
Myf laughed. It was a rich, welcome sound. ‘I do the wall stuff. I haven’t advanced to any installation work yet.’
‘Perish the thought.’ Ben feigned a shudder.
‘Ben?’ Amy’s voice was faintly muffled, coming from behind the mystery door at the back of the salon.
‘At your service.’
‘Just give me a few seconds.’ There was the sound of something heavy thumping a wall and a muffled ‘Oomph.’
‘You alright, love?’ Myf called out.
‘I’m okay. Just give me a sec. I’m sorry, Ben. I’m running a bit late.’
‘No problem at all. I’ll just entertain myself out here with Myf and some of your quality educational reading material.’ Ben winked at Myf before perusing a nearby shelf and selecting a magazine that advertised Sex Tips to Send Your Man Wild .
‘Quality?’ Myf let out a low chuckle.
‘Of course,’ Ben murmured. He flicked past countless outlandish advertisements for shoes, perfume and, if he wasn’t mistaken, anorexia, until he found what was he was looking for.
‘For example,’ he said loud enough for Amy to hear. ‘Did you know, and I have to tell you I didn’t, that men like having toothpaste rubbed on their privates? Now this is definitely news to me. According to this article—’ His words were stopped mid-sentence by Myf’s shocked laughter and Amy’s shriek from the back of the salon.
‘What!’
‘Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just reading out
The pale pink walls contrasted with the white enamel skirting boards, shelves and window frames. The wall closest to him featured a giant poster promoting the movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes , with Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell displaying maximum leg; the opposite wall held three ornate gilt mirrors arranged a metre or so apart. Each mirror had a plush rose-pink leather chair facing it. The back of the room was completely sectioned off with a white screen featuring large polka dots.
The overall effect should have been cloying but it wasn’t; it conveyed the same level of welcome and comfort as the barber shop. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t comforting was the distinct absence of the proprietor. Instead, he was greeted by a whippet-thin redhead wearing the ugliest green dress Ben had ever seen. She was curled up in one of the chairs, looking him up and down with a bemused smile.
‘Anyone home?’ He clasped his hands behind his back and wandered down to the back of the shop to inspect the area behind the screen, which contained a small room, ostensibly for those beauty treatments not fit for company, a small kitchen and another door, which was currently closed.
‘I am. Amy will be back in a few seconds,’ the redhead announced in a low, surprisingly strong voice. She had a more clipped, refined Australian accent than Amy’s. It spoke of money, and lots of it, somewhere in the family tree. ‘I’m Myf.’
‘Myf?’ Ben raised a brow.
‘Short for Myfanwy. Before you ask, Mum’s Welsh. I’m Amy’s friend. You’re Ben, right?’ Her gaze was steady and Ben got the distinct impression his every movement was being thoroughly judged. Interesting.
‘The man himself. Do you work here?’ Ben examined a row of nail polishes mounted on a narrow white shelf set above a white spindle-legged table with two chairs either side. He wondered why any woman would want pea-soup-green nails.
‘Only as backup. Normally I’m an artist and yoga teacher, but both are too much fun to call jobs.’ Myf gave him such a warm smile that Ben found himself wandering over and parking himself in the chair next to hers.
‘An artist? Are we talking empty white rooms with used underwear scattered around, great steaming piles of excrement turned into sculpture, or the more palatable stuff you hang on walls?’ He propped an elbow on the arm of his chair and spun it around to face her.
Myf laughed. It was a rich, welcome sound. ‘I do the wall stuff. I haven’t advanced to any installation work yet.’
‘Perish the thought.’ Ben feigned a shudder.
‘Ben?’ Amy’s voice was faintly muffled, coming from behind the mystery door at the back of the salon.
‘At your service.’
‘Just give me a few seconds.’ There was the sound of something heavy thumping a wall and a muffled ‘Oomph.’
‘You alright, love?’ Myf called out.
‘I’m okay. Just give me a sec. I’m sorry, Ben. I’m running a bit late.’
‘No problem at all. I’ll just entertain myself out here with Myf and some of your quality educational reading material.’ Ben winked at Myf before perusing a nearby shelf and selecting a magazine that advertised Sex Tips to Send Your Man Wild .
‘Quality?’ Myf let out a low chuckle.
‘Of course,’ Ben murmured. He flicked past countless outlandish advertisements for shoes, perfume and, if he wasn’t mistaken, anorexia, until he found what was he was looking for.
‘For example,’ he said loud enough for Amy to hear. ‘Did you know, and I have to tell you I didn’t, that men like having toothpaste rubbed on their privates? Now this is definitely news to me. According to this article—’ His words were stopped mid-sentence by Myf’s shocked laughter and Amy’s shriek from the back of the salon.
‘What!’
‘Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just reading out
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