Revolver

From the moment I walked in the door, I knew my day wasn't going to be the same. There he was in his medium blue uniform sitting on the black leather chair. I glanced his direction because there was a person there and you tend to notice people. When I did so, my eyes met his and I tried to hide the way my eyes peeled open. I sat down and wondered if he worked there for he didn't seem to be in any hurry. It was when he walked up the stairs that I knew. He's the masseur. 1

I kept my eye on him while I awaited my turn in the chair. When I watch people I usually look into their eyes (only when they are looking in another direction so not to be caught staring of course) to discover something about them, but with him I couldn't. His eyes were a perfect crystal blue, so bright and piercing that I couldn't stand to look at them. It felt like his soul could see me even if his eyes couldn't. 2

I had my hair washed and, because of the the angle of the sink, could see him walking around on the second level. Every now and then he would throw a little glance around and I'd smile to myself because I could see more than just his back. My turn in the chair was finally up. Each of the chairs sits facing it's own giant mirror. That way you can see eveything that is going on behind you, or to the side of you depending if you've been swivled about. I sat quietly watching my stylist put an array of things into my hair before he starting cutting away. He told me to put my head down so he could start and I did so. When that was overwith, and I could pull my neck straight again, I noticed a certain blue color eminating from behind my stylists body. When he moved out of the way I saw the mystery man watching. I'm sure of it. He wasn't just glancing in our general direction, he was sitting at the bar watching! At least, that's what I tell myself. I do that because I could see the icey blue of those eyes and not only his face.3

My turn was over and I sat waiting for my sister's to be over. While I did I saw Mr. Blue continue to walk about the salon. I couldn't keep my eyes off him. I couldn't help it. He was gorgeous. And as a masseur he's sure to be good with his hands, right? My sister's turn was finally over and I took to her to where my mother and aunt were. They were paying at the desk, right by where this story began. Mr. Blue was standing behind the bar and he spoke to me. 4

"I like your Beatles shirt."5

I grinned, the first real smile of the day, and rotated to face him. "Thanks!" 6

Then I turned to make sure my little sister was acknowledged by my aunt or mother when he spoke again.7

"It's my favorite album."8

Elation! I was so happy. "Really? I can't choose: I love them all."9

I smiled and spun around. I wasn't sure if I was blushing, but I knew I had a huge grin plastered across my face that I found somewhat embarrassing. 10

I kept peeking back at him to see if I could find some sort of reaction or emotion on his face. When he had first spoken to me it sounded a bit forced, like he was trying to find the right time to say it. Or perhaps that's just my imagination running wild. We all starting walking out and the door and I attempted to flash a smile back at Mr. Blue but I had become a bit flustered. I don't know if he got the message or not.11

Now I wish he had said something earlier. Then I would have gotten to talk to him throughout the entire time I was there instead of the rushed minutes at the end. I would have liked to talk to him about what other bands he liked or at least gotten his name. Maybe next time. Hopefully next time. I've got plenty other Beatles shirts to wear.12