Chapter Twenty
After their hot bath, they lay in the bed in each other’s arms.
“Elle?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him. He was staring at her hair, his hand filled with her dark red locks.
“I know this isn’t your normal colour. Why do you dye it?”
“Because I got tired of men checking me out because of my hair. I’m not shallow, but it would seem blonde usually meant guys wanted to check you out. When I turned around they would freak out and pretend to be looking elsewhere. That’s why I dye it.”
“What colours have you used before?”
“I’ve done black, and when I first began dyeing my hair I turned it blue for Halloween. Brad hates it when I do it.”
“He sounds like my kind of guy,” Isaac said.
“Don’t you like my hair?” she asked.
“Elle, I love your hair, but I want to see your real colour, especially seeing as the hair around your pu**y is a lovely shade of blonde.” He put his hand between her thighs, making her gasp.
“How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Make me stop thinking?” she asked.
“You’re easy to please.”
She slapped his chest and giggled as he tickled her belly.
“Stop it. Stop it.”
“I’ll stop if you agree to wash it out,” he said.
“What?” It was her turn to ask the questions.
“I bought this the other day. I want to see you with your proper hair colour.” He reached over to one of his drawers and pulled out the hair rinse which came with the hair dye. You could either rinse it out gradually or use the conditioner which came with it to rinse it out immediately.
Taking the box from his hands she stared at the instructions before turning back to him.
“I want to see the real you, Elle, without the fake hair.”
Tears filled her eyes at the big step he was asking for. Biting her lip, she weighed up her options. There was no way she could deny him, but could she be her natural self around him?
Getting up from the bed, she took his hand and walked into the bathroom.
Setting up the lotion didn’t take long. She was so nervous in case he didn’t like her with her natural hair colour.
Neither talked as they worked in the bathroom. Isaac helped soap her hair and rinse the dark red dye out of it. The process seemed to take forever. Noelle watched the colour disappearing down the sink, each wave of water getting lighter and lighter until the water out of her hair ran clear.
“Could you give me a moment? I’ll dry my hair and come out in a minute.”
Isaac cupped her cheek. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
She nodded and watched him leave the room. Taking a deep breath, she began drying her hair. Staring at her reflection in the mirror she saw past the scar on her face to see the woman within her. The blonde hair was different. After having the red hair for a few weeks she’d gotten used to the garish colour. When every inch of her hair was dry, she placed the dryer on the counter.
There was a full length mirror on the wall opposite.
Turning round, she stared at her reflection with her blonde hair and removed her robe. For the first time in over ten years, she looked at her full body in the mirror. The scars that she’d held in so much regard over the years had faded. Her body was her own. Wrapping her arms over her br**sts, she let the tears of freedom fall. Isaac had done more than make her fall in love with him. He’d given her a chance to live again.
Putting the robe back on, she walked out of the bathroom, into the bedroom. She frowned when she saw what Isaac had done.
The easel was in front of the sofa. He’d arranged it so she could sit and paint near a mirror.
“You look gorgeous. Your blonde hair is a much better colour for your beauty.” He cupped her cheek, kissing her.
“What is all this?” she asked.
“I thought you could paint a portrait of yourself.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please. For me.”
She looked at him and saw the earnest way he stared back at her. Biting her lip, she moved over to the set up of her apparatus. He’d bought some pencils for her to sketch with, and as she sat down, she noticed the angle was perfectly aligned with the mirrors for her to see at all angles.
Her palms were sweaty as she picked up her pencil. She hesitated a few times before she put the lead to the paper. Soon, she was so absorbed in what she was doing, that she didn’t see what Isaac was planning.
“Lift up, baby,” he said.
Noelle looked at him and blushed when she saw him naked. She did as he asked and gasped as he lifted the robe out of the way and pressed himself inside her wet cunt.
Isaac made love to her as she finished off her portrait. How she managed to concentrate on the sketch was beyond her. When she finished, even though she hated it, she knew she would never change it. The conflicting emotions on her face were drawn perfectly. To distract her, Isaac made love to her for the remainder of the night way into Sunday morning.
****
On their last night together, Isaac took her out to a French restaurant. She was surprised by the amount of attention he got. The maitre d’ and the waiters practically fell over themselves to attend to his needs. She found the whole experience strange. Isaac didn’t seem to notice of the other customers. Several people stopped by the table, and Isaac said hello and then dismissed them.
“You know a lot of people,” she said.
“A lot of people think they know me.”
Noelle found everything about their meal strange but overall thought her first experience on a date extremely appealing. Isaac was attentive, and as it was their last night it was the perfect end to the best weekend of her life.
Chapter Twenty-One
All too soon, their weekend was over, and Noelle stood in her apartment. Brad was gone for the day, and he’d left her a brief note that they needed groceries. Checking the cupboards, Noelle made a list and decided to face her final fear.
She grabbed her keys and walked out onto the busy street. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she walked in the direction of the shopping centre close by.
Most people were so busy in their own Monday life that they didn’t pay attention to her.
When she walked into the shop, she grabbed a shopping trolley and began filling it with fresh fruit and vegetables. Her hands stopped shaking as she travelled around the supermarket. A few whispers happened, but she brushed them aside. She had no control over what had happened to her as a child, and she would no longer be held in its grips because people couldn’t handle her imperfection.