The Game

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I sat in our bedroom in front of the mirror combing out my still slightly damp hair, when Lisa walked in. I paused, as I smiled at her. She stepped behind me and reached out for the comb, then took over combing my hair, the ends curling around her long fingers.

“Are you sure you want to do this, babe?” she asked. “You don’t want to take a look at what I picked out, or give me any more guidance than ‘it has to either be long enough to pull back into a ponytail or short enough to not need it?’ There’s a lot of room for interpretation there.”

This game was my idea. She didn’t seem to mind the idea of me changing my hairstyle, but I could tell the game I wanted to make of it had her nervous.

“I’m sure, Honey.” I smiled up at her, as she gathered my long hair into a handful. “I want to be surprised.”

She released the dark chocolatey brown bundle of tresses from her hand and started    arranging the locks about my bare shoulders. The damp hair was straight except at the very bottom. Once it was dry, it would be slightly wavy. The parts she smoothed down the sides of my face past my bra reached to just about my belly button.

“You’re sure you want a change? It’s very pretty as it is.” She said nervously.

Her nervousness was reassuring. It made me confident that she wouldn’t go too extreme, I was sure she’d stick well in the pull back in a ponytail range. Theoretically a long bob would still be long enough to pull back, but I figure she would keep it below my shoulders to be safe.  Which did take a little of the thrill away, but also kept me from changing my mind. I wasn’t really ready for a bob yet. Maybe there would be bangs, which was a thought that thrilled me imagining watching the foot long tresses in the front float down before my eyes to land in a coil in my lap.

“It’s my game, I set up the rules,” I said confidently, “I wouldn’t have created it if I didn’t want to play it.”

 

The game was pretty simple. We go together to the usual salon on our regular schedule.  She goes every 6 weeks for trims. Since my long hair doesn’t need as much maintenance, I go along every other trip.  She will get her usual clean up of her short sandy blonde hair, then it will be my turn. The stylist will ask if I want my usual bit off the bottom for split ends, but instead of confirming I will say I was actually thinking of something different. I will pull out my phone to show pictures, only to discover the battery is dead, which will give me an excuse to have Lisa take over explaining what I wanted. Since Lisa is the chatty one anyway, the stylist won’t think twice about me not doing the talking.

The rules were simple. Lisa could pick anything, just so long as it didn’t leave me unable to get the hair off my neck since summer had just begun and I hated having hair stuck to my neck.

I had confided the idea to her a week before as we were getting ready for bed.  She had sounded incredulous at the whole thing, at first but agreed to it pretty easily, even though she sounded nervous.

 

“Really, anything, no guidelines?”

“I want to be surprised. It’s not a surprise if I tell you what to do. You just need to find a photo.”

“But long enough for a ponytail, so it’s not on your neck when it gets hot?”

“Either long enough to pull back, so that I can get it off my sweaty neck.” I answered, then joked with a slight giggle, “or short enough it doesn’t matter.”

“Really? Short enough to not matter? Are you serious?” she asked.

I suddenly wasn’t sure if I was joking anymore.  I was both terrified and really turned on by leaving the possibility open.  I shrugged, and started kissing her with intent.

I promised her very good “thankyou sex” at the end of the game to seal the deal.

 

Lisa was finished combing my hair, so it was time to get dressed.  I was torn between a nice blouse or a cute t-shirt. I wanted to look nice, but didn’t want to look like I was trying to hard.  I finally decided on the peacock blue blouse with black pinstripes, that had just a hint of cleavage. Then I pulled on a pair of tight fitting dark blue jeans.

Lisa was already dressed in a t-shirt that proclaimed our membership at the zoo, and a pair of relaxed faded blue jeans.  She generally had a more relaxed style than me. She wore basic t-shirts under her chef’s smock when she was working, and more fun t-shirts on days off.  I had to wear a suit at work, and I’d put my hair up in a smooth bun to give it that professional polished look. Her hair, a lighter shade than mine, was never done, just a simple wash and go.  Covered with a bandana when working, and then just fluffed out a bit when she wasn’t. On a guy it would probably be called surfer dude style, on a woman over 30, as Lisa was, it came across more as busy mom style.

“Double check to make sure your battery is dead.” She reminded me as I was putting my phone into my pocket. She was obviously checking the photos she had on hers.

“It won’t turn on.”  I confirmed when I checked it.  “You made it look like I sent you the pictures?”

“Don’t worry about that, I sent them to myself as an email.”  She assured me. “Listen, if you change your mind at the last minute, just say to her what you always say ‘just get rid of the split ended’ and I won’t say a thing.”

“OK” I said as I blushed with embarrassment.  I hadn’t realized Lisa had noticed that I always said that, occasionally throwing in a request to make the layers a little more noticeable.  The instruction that didn’t specify an exact amount of inches or style was a way of subtly giving over control. I fantasized that one day Gerry would decide that the split ends were much worse than usual and chop off much more than usual.  I had even contemplated skipping conditioner and over using the hairdryer to make it happen, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

 

———————

 

We drove to “Gerry’s Unisex Salon” in silence. Even though it’s called a unisex, like something out of the ‘70s, it wasn’t like it was falling apart, in fact it was pretty modern. Upon entering, there was a reception desk to the left of the door and a waiting area to the right. There were 6 chairs in total, 3 faced the left wall and 3 facing the right wall.  I have always loved that because there are mirrors on both sides facing each other, I can watch the action behind me.

It’s one of those places that has the look of a salon, but operates like a barber most of the time. No appointments necessary, just walk in and wait for the next available stylist.  No washing unless requested, just a quick spray down with water. No fancy styling, maybe 3 seconds of the blow dryer pointed at you, mostly just to blow the cut off bits of hair away though.

As we walked in, the bell above the door jingled. Gerry said a quick “hi” from behind the middle chair facing the left wall, as Lisa wrote our names on the waiting list at the desk. Since it was a Tuesday morning, Gerry was the only stylist working. Tuesday-wednesday is the weekend for Lisa and me, since we work most saturdays and sundays,  She is a sous chef and I’m a hotel concierge. We will be taking a break from that next week though. We were about to go on vacation.

We settled in to a couple of the waiting chairs. Lisa picked up one of those hairstyle magazines you only ever see at salons. I picked up the National Geographic and pretended to be more interested in it than watching Gerry finishing up a tight taper on the college age guy in her chair. It wasn’t long before she was dusting him off and ringing him up. She spent just a moment sweeping a small pile of short clippings to the side.

When she was all finished she called for Lisa to come over. Lisa put down her magazine and walked casually to the chair, while saying the usual “hi, how’ve you been” stuff. She settled in as Gerry pulled a strip of tissue from the box on the counter.

 

“So just tidy things up as usual.” Gerry said more as a statement than question as she fixed the tissue around Lisa’s neck and started pulling the cape off the back of the chair.

“I’d like you to take it a little bit shorter than usual this time.” Lisa answered. “I want it cooler and lower maintenance while we’re on vacation. Short enough I don’t have to pack a comb.  So above the eyebrows in the front and completely off the neck in back. It would be great if I could actually feel the breeze on the back of my head.”

That was a surprise. She hadn’t mentioned anything to me. Not packing a comb so didn’t sound like Lisa, she was the one who always packed everything and anything she could imagine there might be the slightest need for. Cooler made sense though since we were heading south. Though I had always been the one who couldn’t stand hair on my neck as soon as the temperature hit 80.

“To go short enough to feel a breeze in the back, I’m going to use clippers.” Gerry said as she fastened the cape around Lisa’s neck. “You want that?”

“Whatever works” was Lisa’s simple response. I could hear a slight crack in her voice though giving away that she was slightly nervous.

“Okey dokey” Gerry said without hesitation as she stepped over to the counter.

Gerry reached under the counter for one of the two sets of clippers that hung down from hooks, instead of picking up scissors from the top of the counter like she usually did.  She fussed with them for just a moment, not putting on a guard, before picking up a comb and stepping back towards the chair Lisa sat in. She gently turned the chair 90 degrees, so it was faced towards the back instead of straight at the mirror, and pushed Lisa’s head down to expose her neck.  I wasn’t sure if the 90 degree turn was so that Lisa could see what was happening in the back out of the corner of her eye, or just so the cord from the clippers wouldn’t get tangled in the chair. Then it occured to me, that turning the chair all the way would have faced Lisa towards the mirrors on the other side of the shop. Whatever the reason, it worked out for me, It gave me an absolutely perfect viewing angle.

Gerry placed her hand on top of Lisa’s head and pushed down till Lisa’s chin was pressed firmly against her chest. She looked so vulnerable, there trapped in the cape with her head bowed, her neck exposed.

When Gerry flipped the switch up and the clipper popped to life, Lisa took a little gasp of surprise. I was betting this was the first time she’d had her hair cut with clippers.  She’d had short hair not only as long as I had known her, but also in every picture I had seen of her as an adult. Never as short as she described the haircut she was about to get though. Never what would be described as boy short, more middle aged mom short. This seemed like it was going to be a whole ‘nother level of short.

I watched as Gerry lifted the hair up in the back with her comb and began to run the clippers across it. The shop was filled with the angry hum of the clippers and the zoowp and rattle of the bare blades against the teeth of the comb. There was a slight delay, as the hair just pushed up in front of the clippers, before the clumps of hair started to fall away. It looked like a good 2 inches maybe more to me as it bounced on the floor before the next clump joined it.

At first the new length was obscured from view by Lisa’s thick hair. I watched as Gerry made three more passes before I could see how short it was going to be. I was not disappointed. It was obviously going to be a nice tight taper.  Just the ⅛ inch or so thickness of the comb was left at the very bottom. I closed my eyes for just a moment the purr of the clippers filled my ears as I imagined how the back of Lisa’a head was going to feel against my palm when we got home.

When I opened my eyes, Gerry had made quite a bit of progress. The back of Lisa’s head was now half covered in hair so short it stood up. I was surprised at the size of the pile of hair on the floor, considering Lisa didn’t have that long hair to begin with.  There was even some still clinging to Lisa’s shoulders.

As Gerry kept working with the clippers against the comb up towards the occipital, gradually leaving ever so slightly more hair, clumps kept tumbling down Lisa’s back, sometimes knocking some of the hair from her shoulder, sometimes adding to it.  Every now and then Gerry would push the ever expanding pile of hair on the floor out of her way towards the base of the chair with her toe.

As Gerry reached the last bits of uncut hair behind Lisa’s ear and sliced them off, they tumbled forward over Lisa’s shoulder and into her lap. I could just barely hear the sharp intake of breath from Lisa over the ongoing hum from the clippers, then Lisa sucked her lips in. I wondered if she was beginning to regret wanting to be so low maintenance on vacation.

As Gerry started working up and around Lisa’s ear, Lisa gradually raised her head back up. So she could talk now that her chin wasn’t pressed down.

“So, where are you guys going?” Gerry asked while slicing off the hair above Lisa’s ear on the side I couldn’t see very well.

“Down south, in the woods by a lake.” Lisa said looking more relaxed now that she had something to take her mind off the hair that slid down the cape. “It’s going to be very rustic.”

It took all my self control not to snort at “very rustic.” But whatever, if Lisa wanted to exaggerate about the lakeside cabin we had rented for a month it was harmless. Gerry made a little “hmm” that encouraged Lisa to go on.

“Yeah, we’ll be camping for a month. Showering out in the woods.” She left out that the outdoor shower was just to rinse off sand from the beach, and there was also an indoor full bathroom, as well as a jetted hot tub on the deck. “That’s why I want things nice and easy, no fussing with conditioners and styling products.”

“Oh yeah,” Gerry nodded slightly that she understood. “It’ll be nice and easy when you’re out in the woods. Cool too. And it’ll be easier to check for ticks with your hair nice and short.”

I tuned out the conversation as Lisa continued to make our vacation sound much more like camping than it really was, and Gerry talked about her favorite camping tips and recipes, and just watched as the hair kept falling as Gerry finished around the ear I couldn’t see very well.

Soon Gerry was working on the still uncut hair around the ear facing me.  Lifting it with the comb and pushing the clippers across, the hair left behind not long enough to touch Lisa’s ears at all. I watched with delight as Lisa’s wispy side burns were reduced to a soft pelt.

Gerry finally turned off the clippers, and hung them back on the hook. Then came back to the chair holding a spray bottle. She pointed the nozzle at the top of Lisa’s head and started squirting with one hand, while swinging the chair back to face the mirror with the other. Once Lisa faced the mirror, Gerry started using her free hand to shake the hair distributing the water evenly. Gerry walked back to the counter once Lisa’s hair was dark with water and just beginning to drip.

Lisa turned her head back and forth examining what was left on the sides of her head, her expression tight lipped. I don’t think she had thought Gerry was going to be quite so literal about feeling a breeze.

Gerry picked up her comb and scissors and stepped back behind Lisa. She swiftly started combing Lisa’s hair straight back, then switched to combing a small section right at the crown of Lisa’s head straight up. She clamped the hair between her fingers maybe an inch or two from the scalp. Swiftly she flipped scissors out and snipped off all the hair above her fingers. The severed hairs landed gently on top of Lisa’s head mixing with the uncut hairs. Gerry flicked the comb through catching the loose hairs and depositing them on the floor. Then she combed up the next section matching it to the previous one and snipping it off.

Gerry kept working across Lisa’s head snipping away at the length on top. This was the gentler sound I was used to listening to as Lisa got her hair cut. More hair was falling than usual though, not just little snippets, but big clumps. Left behind on Lisa’s head was a soft carpet that stood up.

When Gerry made it to the front, she combed Lisa’s bangs forward and starting from the center point cutting a soft line well above Lisa’s eyebrows. I would have interpreted the above the brows request to mean that the hair should just not quite touch the top of the eyebrow, Gerry obviously took it to mean high up the forehead halfway between the eyebrows and hairline. I could just imagine how much shorter they were going to look once they were dry.

Once the short bangs were finished, Gerry combed Lisa’s hair back and spent just a few more minutes making little adjustments to the top. She then started tightening up the taper cutting scissors over comb along the back. The comb going upward at a steady pace, while the scissors made a rhythmic clicking. Short snippets of hair floated down catching the light from the window making it look like a sprinkle of glitter. It was mesmerizing watching the scissors gleaming as they quickly flicked open and closed. Damn Gerry had fast fingers, a thought that reminded me of things Lisa did to me with her own fast fingers.

Finally she put down her scissors and used the trimmer to clean up the hairline. Stroking gently down Lisa’s neck, then around her pretty ears.

 

“Short enough for ya?” Gerry asked as she reached for the hair drier.

“Definitely,” Lisa responded in with a tiny hint of regret in her voice, stroking her hand over her damp crop.

“It won’t seem so extreme by the time you’re back from vacation.” Gerry assured Lisa.

I wondered if she meant because it will have grown out, or just because Lisa will have gotten used to it. It was definitely going to take way more than a month to get back to Lisa’s usual length.

It wasn’t long before Gerry had finished with the blow drier and was whisking the cape off Lisa and letting the last of the hair fall to the floor.  Lisa sat as Gerry used a hand mirror to show off the tight taper in the back.

Lisa stood with a tight smile and turned to walk back to the waiting area. Lisa gave me a raised eyebrow look as she sat. Though I couldn’t read her mind, it made me feel like she was blaming me for her drastic new look even though I hadn’t even suggested it.

 

——————————

 

Gerry swiftly swept up the impressive pile of Lisa’s hair, and turned to face me with a way too eager smile.

“Ok Peggy, I’m ready for you,” Gerry said as she patted the back of her chair enthusiastically.

I debated with myself how pissed Lisa was going to be if I decided not to go through with the game after her major shearing, as I walked nervously towards the chair. I was worried that Lisa was setting me up with her exaggerations of our lake trip.  And considering how eager Gerry looked, I was sure she would have the most drastic interpretation of whatever picture she was shown. Lisa was just going to have to forgive me, because I was calling off the game.

I was mildly disappointed with myself at the idea of calling it off. I’d had the urge to find an excuse to get a more drastic haircut for years, and had always chickened out by the time I sat down in the chair. Oh well, at least this time if I called it off I was still going to get to run my fingers through Lisa’s oh so short crop while we made love just as soon as we got home.

I sat in the chair and waited as Gerry gave my long locks a quick twist and secured them to the top of my head with a large claw clip.  Then she draped the billowy cape around me and secured the snap at my neck.

“So, are we going to be fixing you up with something easy and comfortable too?” Gerry teased with an evil gleam in her eye, as she released the clip and fluffed my lovely brown hair in front of my shoulders.

“I… Uh…” I was totally flustered by the question. I was thinking I should be more specific than usual. “I was thinking um…”

“Babe, Just show her the photo,” Lisa chimed in sounding just a little too delighted to be helpful. “The one you sent to me last night from your phone.”

Oh fuck. I hadn’t said what would have signalled to Lisa that we were calling the game off. What could I do now but pray that Lisa had picked something that was nice instead of painfully practical. Maybe if I talked fast enough after the phone failed I could keep control of the situation. I swallowed and took out my dead phone, and spent a few moments pressing the power and home buttons.

“Darn it. The battery seems to be dead.” I announced hoping I was a good enough actress to sound like I hadn’t expected it. “I’ll try to describe it…uh…”

“Relax babe,” Lisa once again chimed in happily, “I still have the photo you sent me on my phone.”

I clenched my jaw, as I said a silent prayer. Lisa took out her phone as she walked over to stand next to Gerry behind the chair. I could only see the back of Lisa’s phone in the mirror from where she stood, not the screen. The feelings of terror and being turned on were both almost overwhelming me.

“Here we go.” Lisa said tapping her phone screen and holding it up so Gerry could see. “Of course since Peggy is helping the public all day, she needs something fairly stylish and professional. It’s not going to be quite as low maintenance as my new haircut, but it’ll be way easier than what she’s got now.”

“Hmm. You guys are done at work till after your vacation right?” Gerry asked as she contemplated the picture, Lisa knodded. “I could take it just a little shorter, and by the time you’re back it will have grown out to look like the picture with just a quick clean up in the back.”

“Uhm, that’s a thought.” Lisa said tentatively.

“Will it really make much difference,” I sputtered out, “and won’t it look a bit off?”

“Every little bit helps. Especially in the back where it’s got that undercut area. An extra half inch will make it much cooler and easier.  I’ll do the top like the picture, and just make the undercut a little tighter.” Gerry said in a reassuring authoritative voice that left no room for disagreement, “and you’ll be in the middle of the woods anyway, so it shouldn’t matter if it doesn’t look exactly like the picture. It’ll look great, just a little more punk.”

THERE’S GOING TO BE AN UNDERCUT?!?! I sighed deeply as I tried to simply accept how the game had gone way more wild than I had imagined it, and try to enjoy the ride. This was an odd combination of my biggest fear and ultimate fantasy.

 

Gerry started right near the front. She didn’t bother to wet me down at all, just combed up a section of hair beside my left temple and trapped it between her two fingers four or five inches from my scalp. Then she flipped the comb into her palm and swung up the sharp silver scissors.

Schrunch, schlick, click.

The very long dry lock slivered over my shoulder, down my chest and into my lap. My heart felt like it was going to burst through my chest it was beating so hard. Gerry released her fingers and severed end fell against my face brushing my cheek. The very longest bits at the bottom just barely grazing my jaw.

As Gerry combed up the next section next to my ear, it became obvious that she wasn’t bothering to use the previous section as a guide.  This was just a rough cut to take off the bulk, so there was no need for precision.

I watched as the next long lock was sliced off. The scrunch sound right next to my ear.  This time the severed hair slithered down my arm and stopped at the armrest. It looked so beautiful laying there brown and silky.  I resisted the temptation to sneak a hand out from under the cape to play with it. I was going to miss being able to twirl it around my finger.

Gerry swiftly moved to the next section behind my ear. She was moving fast with absolutely no hesitation. I’d have thought after all those years of neatly trimming the ends and just a few barely noticeable long layers, she’d have formed at least a little fondness for my long hair and had some regret before chopping it all off, but none showed.

It was mere moments after she had begun and with two quick snaps of her sharp scissor the third lock was sliding away behind my shoulder. I tried to catch a glimpse of it falling to the floor in the mirror on the opposite wall, but all I could see was Gerry’s back and my other side.

As Gerry worked on the next section I closed my eyes briefly since there wasn’t anything to see anyway.  I just concentrated on feeling and listening; the comb parting the hair down from the top of my scalp towards my neck; the long hair being combed back and away from my head; the very slight pressure as Gerry clamped the long lock between her fingers; the sound of the blades sawing through my hair; the weight of the tresses landing between my shoulder blades for a fraction of a second before they slid away; the barely audible slither down the cape to the floor; the dry locks to soft to actually make a sound when I knew they must be hitting the floor.

Then Gerry shifted where she was standing stepping back slightly for a moment to stretch her back and roll her shoulder and neck. It gave me a chance to see how the cut was progressing.  I could see myself both in the mirror facing me, and the one across the salon. my right side still had my gorgeous long brown waves draping over my shoulder, my left had short layers that just lay there next to my head.  It was quite the contrast.

When Gerry was finished stretching, she stood ever so slightly off to the left where she wasn’t blocking my view of the back of my head in the mirror on the opposite wall.

I watched as she once again combed up a fairly large section of hair and trapped it between her fingers.  I watched as she brought the silver blades up and began to slice away the hair. I watched as the long brown locks floated to the floor.  I watched as she released the grip she had and the now short hair bounced back down to my neck. It seemed to be happening so far away looking at it in a reflection of a reflection, it could have been a video, but I could feel the prickles of the freshly cut ends on my skin.

The next section was soon being sliced off, this one landing on my shoulder then sliding down.  Gerry finally arrived back at the front for the last long lock of hair. I watched in the mirror directly in front of me, much more personal feeling, as the last lock was cut and slid down the front of my chest and into my lap.

As Gerry took a very brief moment to grab sectioning clips, I looked down at the floor around me.  Ribbons of my once glorious hair lay carelessly discarded all around me. Regret and excitement swirled around my mind confusing me.

Gerry was soon guiding my head back up to face straight ahead so she could start combing and sectioning.  She soon had about half of my hair secured up on top of my head, leaving down a section that followed the natural curve of my hair from one temple all the way around to the other.  If this was going to be the undercut, it was going to be a huge visible one. I took a deep breath. Gerry reached for the clippers and held them at the ready.

“Ok, this bit looked like a half inch in the photo.” Gerry said, as she ruffled my loose hair. “If I take it down to an eighth it will be really cool and comfortable, and it should be around a half an inch by the time you get back from vacation. Sound good?”

She was actually asking, I had a chance to say no, let’s stick to the half inch. I took a deep breath and nodded instead.

Gerry pulled open a drawer, reached in grabbing a guard that she popped onto the clippers.  Then she came around behind me, and pushed my head down slightly.

I knew there was going to be a pop when she turned on the clippers, I was expecting the pop, but it still made me startle when it came. I’d never actually had my own hair cut with clippers before, I had only ever heard to pop when clippers were about to be used on someone else.

I felt Gerry comb my hair up along my nape, then the humming clippers made their way up my neck and into my hairline. The sensation was better than I had imagined it. The teeth of the guard scraping along, the very slight tug, and of course the vibration. It was amazing. Then when the first pass was complete, the coolness which was so much more noticeable than I had expected. Then finally the barest whisper of a thud as the dry hair landed on the cape covering my shoulders.

I sat there, enjoying the sensation as my hair was buzzed away. First up my nape, then around my ears, and finally just below my temples. I watched as short locks slid down the front of the cape and into my lap.

I watched as Gerry got to the bit of the undercut by my temple. The shaggy hair slid down my face to the cape. Left behind was little more than a shadow against my now visible scalp. Gerry took her time going over the undercut a second time making sure everything was completely even.

When Gerry finished, she took out the edgers and cleaned around the edges doing a fade. It took every ounce of self control I had to resist running my hand over it before she finished.

The undercut done, Gerry took out the clip holding the hair up on the top of my head.  The hair was long enough to fully cover the undercut in a shaggy bob. I was wondering if it really mattered what length the undercut was, since it was completely covered anyway.

Gerry started combing and wetting down my hair with her spray bottle. The spray was so cool, not just on my neck, but also on the undercut that no longer had a thick insulating layer over it.  Once my hair was evenly damp, she spent a few moments fussing with the part and using clips to section the front.

I was expecting Gerry to comb the back section down and start trimming just a little off straight across the bottom, but she didn’t. Instead she combed a slice from the back straight out and trapped it between her fingers just a couple of inches from my scalp. She flipped up her scissors and with a swift sli-clack sliced off about half the length I had left from the initial cut.

The top was only going to cover part of the undercut, leaving a whole lot of my buzzed down to just stubble scalp showing. I had a whole renewed regret that I had given into the temptation to agree to the ⅛ inch guard.

Gerry kept working, reducing what was left of my hair to short layers.  I enjoyed the feel of the comb going through my hair, the slight plop as the cut off wet hair landed on my shoulder, the constant sound of snipping.  As I watched in the mirror, I hated how it looked. So very severe in the back, where there was a delicious breeze. I have never been so conflicted before in my life.

It was a while of sitting there being transformed as hair slid into my lap. I was going to look like a whole new person when this done. By the time she got to the front, my hair was mostly dry.  Gerry finally cut my bangs so they just brushed the tip of my nose.

I knew it was almost over when Gerry picked up the thinning shears and went to town with them, adding tons and tons of texture.  Huge fluffy clumps came out each time she ran the comb through. It was shaping up though, looking more and more like a modern stylish pixie.  After a bit Gerry was blow drying me and then dusting my neck.

 

“What do you think?” Gerry smiled as she held up the hand mirror to give me a really good look at the fade on the back of my neck and how the shaggy layers from the top hung against the undercut.

“Wow” was all I could come up with as words failed me.

It was certainly professional.  A little more mature, but not in a bad way.  It was absolutely not my style, but that was why it was such a transformation. I simultaneously hated it and appreciated that it actually looked pretty good.

Gerry took the cape off, spilling hair onto the floor. The pile was like a carpet, so much short fluff now covered the long ribbons. I raised my hand up and felt the back of my head. It felt so so amazing against my fingers, the soft velvet. I moved my hand down to my neck where it changed to prickles. It was so perfect, I didn’t care how it looked.

 

After Lisa paid and thanked Gerry we headed to the car and climbed in.

“You hate it don’t you?” Lisa asked turning to me.

“Oh yeah, I hate it.” I said, as I ran my hand through what little was left of my hair and looked at myself in the sideview mirror.

“So I guess there isn’t going to be any ‘thankyou sex,’ huh.”

“Oh no,” I said with a chuckle, “there is going to be tons and tons of ‘thankyou sex.’  And it’s going to be incredible. This is just what I needed.”

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