Elizabeth – that was my stylist’s name – was the perfect height for my face to commune with her lovely breasts as she clipped my hair and flirted herself happily to a very large tip, the amount of money I planned to leave growing larger each time she leaned across me and the warm, sweaty flesh of her boobs brushed against my face.
In Taiwan the confluence of a barber pole and dark-glass windows indicates that there will be very little hair cutting and more of what Elizabeth seems especially good at. (Other guys tell me this… I only went to clear-glass-windowed shops)
I’ll never read one of those “Made in Taiwan” tags quite the same way.
I always thought that the “Made in Taiwan” tag for implants should have been printed in Braille.