Four girlfriends: Part 2


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In my sophomore year of high school, I remember seeing around seemingly every corner a girl with long, thick, light brown hair down to her waist. She was absolutely lovely. Her name was Sarah and I didn’t talk to her much, as she was a grade older and about 2 steps out of my league.

Then came summer and camp. When I showed up to camp, Sarah was there talking to some girls, but her long hair was missing. She had cut it to just below her collarbone. At a hot, sunny, muggy summer camp, it didn’t take much to make a little-clothed Sarah distraction #1. At this camp, we were the only two people from our high school, and so when we crossed paths, we made conversation, and I knew even from there that something special was going to happen.

Fastforward to fall, and Sarah shows up at school, hair grown a few more inches. By Christmas it had almost grown to her bra strap. Although I had no reason to be confident, in a moment of boldness I asked her to the Christmas dance in a fairly drastic proposal, although that’s not what this story is about. Fastforward a month, and we’re  on a date ice skating in the woods. Fastforward another month, and we’re passionately making out every second that we see each other. A 16-year-old’s life doesn’t get any better.

I quickly learn something about Sarah: she knows that she has a great figure, and she knows how to dress and use it to get what she wants. Fortunately for me, that’s pleasure. And since she is so flirty, I soon learn that just about anything is on the table, and she will humor me.

Fastforward to April, and Sarah’s hair is just about the length of a year ago, thick and long to her waist. She knows I love her hair, and so she often uses it to tease me. And then one day, when we were very comfortable with each other, she casually mentions,

“I have a haircut this Friday.”

”You know, it was your hair that actually caught my attention.” I reply.

”Oh is that right?” Sarah looks at me, clearly intrigued.

”Yeah, you wouldn’t believe it with how much I play with your hair, but when I saw you at camp in your short shorts with that short haircut, I was just floored, thinking ‘Good Lord, she’s hot’.”

Sarah then teases me, “Well I liked having my hair short, so maybe I’ll try to look like the girl at camp you fell in love with.”

The next time I see her is Friday evening, after her haircut. When I got to her house and opened the door, she grabbed me and pulled me in, and kissed me hard even before I could see her hair. When I stepped back, there she was, in her shorts and tank top to highlight her physique, and her hair was a little shorter than when I saw her at camp, probably to her collarbone, at least 10 inches gone.

“Oh my God.”

”Well don’t just stare. Let’s go have some fun with it,” she teased, and we spent the rest of the evening on the couch.

As the summer went along, she was going to go to college, but I still had one more year of high school. And yet, months and months into this relationship, the fire never would die. And it didn’t matter that I couldn’t hide my short hair fetish, because as her hair began to grow again Sarah would often tease me, sending me old pictures of her with short hair, and she would appease my fantasies and role-play over text. She knew I wanted her to cut her hair, but she also was independent and strong-willed and would do with her appearance as she pleased.

Months go by, and her hair grew down to probably about her bra strap. Then, one day, out of the blue, she sends this text:

”Ok I know you’ve had a busy week but you should really check your phone because SURPRISE I’m getting my hair cut. Here’s the before picture.” (She knew I was into the before-and-after stuff)

Oh.

my.

gosh.

My heart started racing. I sent a text asking how short and she said “I’m not there yet but probably the same as last time. I really like that length.” And so we leave it at that and I wait. And wait. And then, 45 minutes later, this text comes in:

”Omgosh David it’s so short”

And my heart races.

“Was it like last time?” I asked.

”No it’s shorter.”

”Send me a picture?”

”No. You don’t get to see it until tomorrow on our date.”

My goodness the woman knows how to tease a guy. I say “I can’t wait to play with it in like a little ponytail and stuff”

”Omgosh David no. It’s too short.”

Too short for a ponytail? I’m on cloud nine. Then she explains what happened.

”I showed them my collarbone length at the salon and the lady cut my hair in a ponytail that short. But then she just kept on cutting and it was like, bye bye hair.”

I told Sarah I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, and so I was coming over now. She was more than fine with that, and when I got to her house and opened her door, I practically leaped on her.

It was shorter than she ever said she’d go. It was cut at her chin, with just a little bit of curl, and she was dressed in some new undergarments.

All I could do was stammer. “I…I…oh my gosh I..I…”

Sarah blushed and just smiled that amazing smile of hers, leaned in, and whispered in my ear, “I guess the stylist cutting my hair too short might not be that bad after all. Come on.” And she led me upstairs to cloud nine.

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