All Stories
TRANSMISSION_ID: CROYDON_QUEEN
STATUS: DECRYPTED

Croydon Queen

by Anastasia Chrome|2 min read|
"Jamaican-British hairdresser Paulette's salon chair is where secrets are shared—but when loyal customer Marcus confesses his attraction, she shows him the private room in back."

Every two weeks, Marcus sat in Paulette's chair. Best braids in South London, everyone knew it.

But he came for more than the braids.

Paulette was thick perfection—curves that her apron couldn't hide, dark skin that glowed, laugh that filled the whole salon. Today, she wore her hair in goddess locs, gold cuffs gleaming.

"The usual?"

"You know me."

"That I do, babes. That I do."


She worked his hair, her breasts brushing his shoulder, her scent wrapping around him like a promise.

"Yuh single now, I hear," she said.

"Six months."

"Hmm. And yuh come here more often now. Almost like yuh waiting for something."

His heart hammered. "Maybe I am."

She leaned close, lips at his ear. "Stay after close. Mi show yuh the back room."


The back room was her private space—couch, kitchenette, low lighting. She locked the door behind them.

"Three years yuh been coming to mi chair," she said. "Three years I been waiting for yuh to be free."

"You were waiting?"

"Baby, yuh think I brush mi titties against every customer?" She laughed, closing the distance. "Just yuh."


That thick body in his arms was everything he'd dreamed. Soft, warm, yielding and demanding all at once.

"Show mi what yuh got," she breathed.

He showed her on the couch, on the floor, against the wall. Her moans mixed with the after-hours silence.

"Yes! Marcus! Right there!"


Her thick thighs wrapped around his face, then his waist, then his face again. She was insatiable, three years of wanting pouring out.

"Again," she demanded.

"I need a minute—"

"Yuh got thirty seconds."

He rose to the challenge. Literally.


Hours later, tangled together, she played with his fresh braids.

"Every two weeks," she said, "yuh come. But now yuh stay after."

"Every time?"

"Every time." She kissed him deep. "Mi best customer deserves mi best service."

Croydon's queen had claimed her king.

And he'd never sit in another chair again.

End Transmission