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Introduction:My stories are all pretty much about the same topic. They are fantasies about pretty young women being cast in situations where they are inevitably humiliated and embarrassed. If this kind of fiction has no appeal or you find it offensive than don't read further. Again this is pure fiction not to be carried into the real world where such actions would be reprehensible.

I spent my break sitting at Starbucks a few doors down from where I work. I like to sip my drink and imagine various unfortunate things happening to some of the lovely rich patrons walking around the mall. Today my imagination wrapped itself around a very pretty girl. What first caught my eye was her long black glossy hair which cascaded down the middle of her back. She wore a flowered skirt and a white silk blouse. She wobbled slightly on her high heels which made a clicking noise as she walked.

I imagined myself gently lifting her skirt and tucking it into her belt. She might even give me a friendly smile aware of my closeness but unaware I had just sabotaged her dignity. She would then walk around the mall hearing the snickers and wonder what was so funny. Maybe she’d check her teeth for a lodged piece of spinach as her confidence dropped. Finally someone would point out her lovely ass was on display. What would her reaction be? Perhaps Bewilderment, embarrassment and suspicion that some horrible person modified her modest skirt to showoff her white satin panties; or maybe she would blame herself for being so careless and ditzy.

Would she give a petulant pout at the unfairness of being turned into a laughing stock? I just love petulant pouts; of course I also love the bug eyed look of horror that seems to say “this can’t be happening, not to me, not pretty little me”.

After getting her drink she choose a table across from where I sat. She sat down with such lady like poise. I loved how she checked her chair before sitting and smoothed her skirts before engaging in animated conversation with another young women.

I imagined that before she sat down I poured maple syrup on her chair. It would take a couple of minutes before her skirt absorbed the sticky mess and her panties started to feel wet and sticky. I imagined her nose crinkling with dismay as she felt something very sticky seeping through.

Perhaps I would get a chance to be a good Samaritan and help her wipe the sticky substance off when she discovered the ladies bathroom was out of service.Pretending to help I would find ways to worsen her situation. I might squirt syrup all over her lustrous hair, unzip her skirt and break the zipper while wiping her off with a dirty rag. Afterwards she would no doubt thank me for doing my best.

I was so bewitched by that lovely mane of hair that I missed her plump ripe bosom which strained against her silk blouse. A new fantasy presented itself.I would sabotage her drinking cup so when she lifted it the bottom would drop out.

If she had hot coffee it would splash all over those perky breasts and she would let out a yelp of pain while her blouse and bra became transparent. Perhaps she ordered a float which I would have created just for her. It would have been made her's with generous servings of sweet sticky syrup and two scoops of vanilla ice cream all of which would fall into her cleavage when the cup broke.

Then I started to imagine doing some really nasty things to this buxom beauty. Suppose I had a special spray and I misted the back of her head with it. The mist would be a vile concoction of chemicals extremely unfriendly to beautiful hair like hers. The longer it remained in her hair the more damage would befall her pride and joy. First her hair would lose it’s shine and become brittle. Soon strands of hair would slid off her the top of her head. Then as the mist worked into her scalp the hair would drop off with each shake of her pretty head.

At some point she would take out her mirror to admire herself. She would see nothing amiss as most of the damage would have taken place in back. She would take out a brush and run it through her once thick shiny locks. Instead of a silken stream she would find a ruin of tangles and split ends that would cause her to wince with each brush stroke. Her eyes would bug in surprise when she found gobs of hair in her brush. She would bring her fingers up and pat the top of her head and explore. Eventually she would find the bald spot and faint in utter shock.

My daydream came to an abrupt end when saw the time. Back to work, no rest for the wicked. I spent most of the day at my station waiting. I rarely got customers these days; word of mouth I’m afraid worked against me.

Then I heard the clip clop of high heals and I saw my dream girl passing several booths only to stop at mine. Her girlfriend had guided her directly to me.

"Are you sure he's the one?" she asked in an uncertain voice. Her girlfriend responded that I was most definitely the one. "Trust me Marie, he will give you a beauty makeover that you won’t believe. When he’s done You won’t recognize yourself, and you will definitely be the center of attention”.

Feeling thus reassured Marie gave me one of her dazzling smiles and shook her head. Her lustrous hair swished back and forth as she explained about her hot date this evening and how she wanted me to give her the works. Her girlfriend smiled at this and said she had to be going but couldn't wait to see the results. Marie then gave her a hug and said “Oh Gwen thank you I’m so glad there are no more hard feeling between us”.

To be continued ?

Epilogue::If you like the story and have suggestions as to what you want in part 2 leave me a note on one of the haircut stories discussion forms.

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