3 Months

————————— Chapter 1.————————- 

————————— No Contest ————————-

“I know it sucks,” the public defender sitting across from me said, “But it’s the best I can get you.”

“It doesn’t suck,” I complained, “it is completely fucked up.  I didn’t do anything wrong.  He’s the one that should be facing jail time, not me.  He showed up at my job after hours because he knew I’d be cleaning up by myself.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” the tired looking lawyer admitted as she glanced at her watch, reminding me how little of her time I was allowed to take up.  “But this is how the world works, so take the deal.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening as I watched her shoving papers into her briefcase and standing up like she was about to go.

“No.”  I said firmly.  “No, I won’t plead no contest to doing something wrong when I didn’t.  It was self defence.  I want him charged, he attacked me.  I’m the one who called the police.  I want to fight this.”

The lawyer sighed really deeply.  She sat back down and looked me in the eye like she was sizing me up for something.

“Honestly, I would love to take this one to court.”  She said.  “I would love to make it a very loud media circus.  I believe you, I believe 100% that the bastard assaulted you.  The problem is that he’s a very wealthy and well connected bastard.  He’s well dressed and well educated with a promising career, and you’re…”

She waved her hands at me.  I looked down at my tattooed arms.  She didn’t have to say it.  I was a broke waitress, or more likely unemployed by now since I’d missed 2 shifts already and the manager had to come and finish cleaning up after the police showed up.  I had run out of time and money before finishing my community college degree.  He looked like he had a future, I looked like the gold digger he claimed I was.

“I’m assuming I’m your attorney because you can’t afford to pick one out of the yellow pages.  I don’t think you can afford to fight this.”  She explained.  “You can’t make bail.  You’re going to be sitting here in jail for at least 6 months, possibly over a year waiting trial.  That’s time you will be out of work.  Time you will never get back.

“Then frankly, when you finally get your day in court, chances are you will lose. ” She informed me wearily.  “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t do anything wrong.  He’s well connected and everyone is going to bend over backwards to hide what he did to you before you hit him with the beer bottle.  The only way to make him look innocent is to make you look guilty, so they will.  They have way more resources to prosecute you with than I have to defend you with.

“And when you lose, you are looking at years.”  She explained.  “Pam, you will be practically middle aged by the time you can even start to try to put your life back together.”

“It’s not fair.” I muttered, hugging myself with my tattooed arms.  Then I heard my mother’s voice in my head reminding me sarcastically Boo-Hoo, Life’s not fair.

“If you want to fight this, we can.”  She offered, then warned.  “But basically, fighting it is just you making a giant sacrifice for a non-existent greater good.  I would love to be the underdog who goes up against the bad guys, but you are the one who pays the price when we most likely fail.  If you want to spend the next decade trying to be the new poster child for fighting back, I will help you.  But it really does mean losing a decade or more of your life to this.  

“Can you afford that?”  She asked me bluntly, “Can you afford to lose that much of your life?”

I sat silently, wanting to say yes, but contemplating what it really meant before I finally admitted in a small voice, “No.”

“Take the plea deal Pam.” She advised me again.  “It’s just three months.  Less than you will spend waiting for trial, there are some consequences to having it on your record, but I can’t do anything about that.  They aren’t insisting you plead guilty at least.  When you plead no contest, you aren’t confessing to something you didn’t do, you’re just admitting that we can’t win.”

 

————————— Chapter 2. —————————

—————————Welcome to The Abby ——————————

The sign next to the door said “Beauty Parlor,” but there was absolutely nothing beautiful about the dingy room.  The two chairs in the room were old, not very sturdy looking barber chairs with green vinyl seats generously patched with duct tape instead of stylist chairs.  The mirror was not a real glass mirror, just a polished sheet of stainless steel.  There were small cabinets with three drawers under the mirror in front of each of the chairs that mostly resembled nightstands. In the corner, there was a broom, dust pan and big metal garbage can.  The floor was covered in heavily scuffed linoleum tiles, they were a mushroom color with flecks that made it hard to tell if they were dirty or clean.  I suspected dirty.  

In most ways though the room the 5 of us new arrivals, waited in was the same as every other room I had seen so far at the Abigail Tyler Correctional Facility for Women.  The walls were the same dirty beige, the small window had thick glass reinforced with wire and then bars beyond, there was a security camera in the corner.

There were several things that are normally in a salon simply missing.  There was no sink, or hair dryers, or waiting chairs.  Calling it a beauty parlor was a cruel joke.

The 2 guards who escorted us from room to room told us nothing about why we were here, just as they’d not explained anything else when they’d taken us to any of the other rooms.  When we’d entered the room, they’d just barked at us to go stand lined up by the wall and wait.

“Why are we here?”  Chris, who’d been teary from the minute we got on the bus she’d objected to getting on at the county jail, agitatedly asked me with fear in her voice.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”  I answered in a hushed voice, though I had a sinking suspicion, I just hoped I was wrong and it wasn’t the obvious.  Maybe it was just to check for lice, or maybe the room was used for multiple purposes.

“To get haircuts idiot.”  Tracy, who was on the other side of Chris, answered impatiently, confirming my suspicion.  Tracy, unlike Chris and I, had been to this prison, usually just called the Abby, before, and was acting more annoyed about being back than scared.  “No hair below the shoulders.”

“What NO!”  Chris suddenly said loudly.

 Chris had shiny dark brown slightly wavy hair to her butt.  It didn’t look like she ever even got it trimmed.  I wasn’t exactly looking forward to my own hair being taken up to shoulder length, but what I was looking at losing would be measured in inches, Chris was going to be losing something best measured in feet.

“YOU CAN’T CUT MY HAIR!” Chris yelled at the bored looking guards who just ignored her.

While Chris yelled something about Saint Paul and the first admendment, and asked if anyone was listening to her, three women in prisoner uniforms walked in.  One walked over to the corner and leaned against the wall next to the garbage pail.  The other two walked towards the little cabinet and bent down each taking a black roughly folded fabric item from the bottom drawer, they each shook them out revealing them to be very threadbare capes before draping them over the backs of the barber chairs.  Then stood waiting as one of the guards unlocked the top drawers of the little cabinets.  They each took out a set of clippers and a comb and some attachments which they laid out on the top of the little cabinets.

“I’m not even supposed to be here!” Chris continued her objections that no one was responding to as the women next to the barber chairs plugged in the clippers.  “My lawyer said I was probably just going to serve my sentence at the county jail because it was under 6 months.”

“My lawyer said almost the same thing to me,” I told her. “That normally they just keep prisoners with sentences under 6 months there, but warned me that the county jail was getting really full so they might transfer me.”

“GO SIT IN THE CHAIR BY THE WINDOW.” One guard barked at Debby, who was at the front of our little line and had hair well below her shoulders to around her natural waistline, just a little longer than mine.  Then to Tracy, whose curly hair seemed to be above her shoulders anyway, “TAKE THE OTHER CHAIR.”

Tracy went and just sat down with the same annoyed expression, but Debby was more hesitant.  She walked to the chair, but instead of sitting she stood facing the prisoner-stylist nervously.  I didn’t blame her, her hair wasn’t as dramatically long as Chris’s, but it was damned good looking.  The roots were what some would call a very light brown but others would call blond.  She had somewhat grown out well done balayage highlights that must have been expensive if she didn’t have a friend who could do them.  Her hair was softly layered with curtain bangs.

“Can you please use scissors so I don’t get as many split ends?”  She requested with a shaky voice.

The guard who had been barking orders laughed at her.  “We don’t give prisoners scissors to turn into weapons, now sit your butt down.”

“Sorry honey,” the prisoner-stylist offered.

Debby sat and stared at her faint reflection in the polished steel excuse for a mirror.  The stylist draped the almost see through black fabric over the front of Debby and then tossed her long highlighted hair in front of her shoulder.  I could see she was holding back tears, looking upward and trying not to blink, as the stylist struggled to fasten the mostly worn out velcro at the back of her neck.

In the meantime, the other prisoner-stylist had put the cape on Tracy and was standing ready with the clippers and comb.  She asked Tracy in a melodic sing-songy voice “You want me to just take off what I have to, girl?”

“Yeah,” Tracy just frowned as she grumbled her brusque one word answer.

The stylist with the sweet voice, used the comb to pull down the curls, stretching them out.  Straightened out, the hair easily reached her shoulder, with room to spare.  Sweet voiced stylist turned on the clippers and ran them along the bottom of the comb.  Curls of indeterminate length fell to the floor and bounced and rolled.

Debby’s stylist finally had the cape fastened, and picked up the other clippers and comb.  She combed Debby’s smooth obviously really well cared for hair out, spreading it over the back of the chair.

Debby’s stylist turned on the clipper, she combed down to Debby’s neck just above her shoulders and held the comb there level.  She pressed the blades of the clippers into the hair just below the comb.  A swath of hair the width of the clippers and about a foot long slid down the the back of the cape.  it fell to the floor where it folded over itself randomly, Debby’s perfect hair becoming a tangled mess in front of the stylists feet.

Chris was also watching Debby’s hair falling to the floor as well, and was beginning to go from a bit teary to crying hard.  Her body was shaking as the guards continued to ignore her pleas to not make this happen.  

“Shh-shh, it’ll be ok.”  I said to Chris, even though I had no reason to think it would be, as I put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her, giving her shoulder a squeeze, unintentionally feeling the silky hair she was about to lose two feet of.

“NO TOUCHING.”  The guard barked at me.

“She’s scared,” I replied as calmly as I could, even though I wanted to shout back angrily, I kept my voice soft.  “Can you be a little sympathetic?”

“You don’t want to get on my bad side,” the guard warned me, “Now stop touching.”

I let my arm fall away as more of Debby’s hair fell to the floor, the stylist pushing the clipper against Debby’s neck.  Debby was still keeping an obviously stiff lip in contrast to Tracy’s look of annoyance, and Chris’s sobbing.  

I looked over to the fifth woman of our group, who had also been here at the Abby before, Sharon.  Sharon mostly looked bored.  Her bleached blond hair was short, I would have said butch if she was a lesbian, but she’d made her mild bisexuality with a prefence for men very clear, mentioning how she’ll sleep with women in prison, but goes back to men the rest of the time on the ride here.

I watched as Debby and Tracy’s haircuts continued.  Debby’s was going really quickly as her straight hair was easily cut into a simple blunt lob.  Tracy’s was taking longer, since every lock had to be stretched out.  Debby was soon standing up.  The foot of balayage highlights, being swept into a dustpan by the third prisoner as the stylist shook the hair off the dirty cape.  The stylist then started spraying something on the clippers.

“Back in line,”  the guard ordered Debby, whose hair was being unceremoniously dumped into the big trash can, then turned to Chris. “You get in the chair.”

“No, no, no.”  Chris wailed.

“GET IN THE CHAIR.”

“Please don’t.  My whole sentence is only one month.”  Chris begged.  “Please don’t do this.”

“If you don’t get in the chair and sit still for the beautician,” the guard threatened.  “Then we guards will get to hold you down and do it ourselves, and we don’t just do above the shoulders.”

“No, this can’t be happening.” Chris stepped backwards shaking like a leaf

“Get in the chair NOW!” The guard just ordered again.  “Stop wasting time.  I don’t want to have to stand around here waiting for you any longer than I have to.”

“Hey.  Listen, I’ll go first,” I offered.  I didn’t want a haircut, but waiting an extra 10 minutes or so wasn’t going to change that I was getting one.  “That way Chris can have a little longer to come to terms with it.”

“Stay out of this and just wait your turn.”  The guard warned me again.  “Your last warning.”

Then the guard turned back to Chris, “This is also your last chance, go get your haircut by the beautician or we are clearing the room and I’m getting more guards in here.”

Chris stiffly started moving towards the chair.  

“Speed it up!”  The guard barked, causing Chris to startle.

“Hey!” I yelled.  “She’s complying, you don’t have to keep yelling at her.”

“You really just wanted to be on my bad side that badly did you?”  The guard asked sarcastically after turning towards me.  “Are you stupid or does acting the martyr do something for you?  You need to learn to mind yourself and let others mind themselves.”

As the guard faced me with a challenging expression, she had her back to the stylist and Chris.  She wasn’t watching Chris shaking her head no next to the chair while the stylist was gently trying to coax Chris into it.  I hadn’t wanted to be on the guard’s bad side, but at this point, I was.  Whatever they were going to do, I could tell it was already a done deal.  I figured it was probably something like not getting whatever sorry excuse for dessert there was going to be after dinner, or I was going to be sent to my cell instead of getting to watch TV after dinner.  Whatever it was, I figured it was worth it to keep distracting the guard from the fact that Chris wasn’t actually sitting cooperatively yet.

“I’d rather be a stupid martyr than a smart bully.”  I said.

As the guard berated me, I watched the stylist convince Chris to sit.  Chris was sitting but still bent forward sobbing into her hands, so the stylist couldn’t put the cape on her.  As this was going on, the other stylist had finished Tracy’s haircut and Tracy’s hair was being swept up.

The difference in length before and after the cut was obscured by the way Tracy’s hair poofed up now that the curl pattern had been broken up by too much combing.

When Tracy came back over to stand next to us, the guard realized it was my turn for a haircut, and a truly malicious smile spread across her face.  She glanced over to the empty chair to see if it was ready.

“Your turn martyr complex,”  she said to me.

I walked towards the chair, trying to look casual, trying not to show that I was also shaky.  I noticed the guard was following.

“Rules state no artificially colored hair,” the guard stated following me.  “The highlights have to go.”

“This is my natural color.” I offhandedly stated the truth I thought was pretty obvious, not really thinking about what the guard was actually doing.

“Don’t lie. It’s darker underneath, and brighter above,” the guard insisted. “You got it highlighted, and that counts as artificially colored.”

“That’s just normal,” I pointed out while standing next to the chair, but I had turned to  face the guard.  “I’ve been in the sun.”

“It’s artificial,” the guard continued to insist, “and it has to go.”

“You didn’t say anything about…” I suddenly noticed the fear written all over Debby’s face, and realized I shouldn’t finish that sentence.  “This has fuck all to do with whether or not I highlighted my hair, does it?”

“The highlighted part has to go.  No artificial color.”

I was tempted to argue more, but realized it was another fight I should concede.  There was no winning it, the truth didn’t matter, all that mattered was what the person with power wanted, 

“Fine,”  I said and sat in the cheap old worn out barber chair as the guard watched with a smug look.

The guard finally looked over her shoulder and noticed that Chris was still bent forward sobbing into her hands.  The stylist was still trying to convince her to put her hands down long enough to put the thin cape over her.

“Just get on with it.”  The guard told the stylist.

The stylist draped the cape over Chris’s back without trying to fasten it, then bent forward and said softly, “Honey, it will be uneven if you don’t sit up straight.”

“It’s going to be a lot more uneven if I do it.” The guard pointed out.  “Just do it.”

My stylist seemed to be mostly just trying to stay out of the conversation as she put the threadbare cape over me.  As many times as it must have been washed for the cheap feeling nylon fabric to be so worn out, it didn’t smell like it happened frequently enough, or maybe the detergent it was washed with just was too crappy to get the smell out.  She pulled my long hair free of the collar she’d fastened tightly around my neck.

As my stylist was bent forward, she whispered very very softly in my ear on the side away from the guard, “Don’t worry.  Lilly will make you very handsome, girl.”

I looked at Lilly’s fuzzy reflection and thought how the name suited her, though she certainly wasn’t lily white.  It fit her melodic voice.  She had a bright smile, high cheekbones, and deep dark eyes.  Her own dark hair was coily, making it hard to tell how long it actually was.  It extended just a couple of inches from her head, but might have reached her shoulders pulled out for all I knew.  She was pretty.  

Her smooth hands arranged my long hair, then began to comb it.  As she combed, her knuckles occassionally brushed against my neck.  It felt good.  I think she was aiming to just calm me down a little, as I sat in such a vulnerable position.  It was barely helping with the unhappiness about the required haircut, or my anxiety over the guard’s proximity.  It was making me feel shy and guilty and something else I couldn’t figure out.

I looked over to Chris and her stylist when I heard the pop of the clippers starting.  The stylist had all of Chris’s incredibly long hair gathered in a ponytail in her hand.  She simply started pressing the clippers into the bundle.  They bit their way through, and soon the stylist was just holding the 2 foot bundle no longer attached to Chris’s head.  The hair left fell forward in a sloppy a-line bob.

The stylist turned off the clippers and took the incredible ponytail over to the trash can.  The prisoner with the broom, simply lifting the lid in a careless manner for what should have been a treasure to be discarded.  In the outside world that ponytail would have been extensions that were worth more than the car I’d sold a year ago because I couldn’t afford the gas, maintenance, and insurance, especially since it wouldn’t start frequently enough that I was paying bus fare half the time anyway.

“Make sure you get all the highlights.”  The guard ordered Lilly as she picked up her clippers.

Lilly just nodded to acknowledge the instruction as she flicked the switch.

*******************

I remembered the day, months earlier, when the highlights had really shown up.  I’d gone to the shore with a group of friends.  We’d pooled our money together to get two nights in an old motel.  Technically the room was only supposed to have a maximum of 4 guests, but we figured since it was an outside room, as long as we staggered our coming and going, we could get away with the 6 of us sharing it.  We were a little uncomfortable three to a bed, but it wasn’t like sleeping was a huge priority.

After a swim in the ocean though, I was tired and stretched out on the beach to rest.  I lay mostly under an umbrella, with a towel over my face so I wouldn’t sunburn.  But I had fanned out my long hair to dry.  When I woke up the sun had shifted, and I was beginning to get a little burnt.

The next day, the top layer of my hair had faded to a chestnut color while the parts that had been shaded by my head or under the top layers remained a dark mahogany color.  It hadn’t been a giant surprise, I’d always gotten chestnut highlights when my hair got enough sun, it had just been a long time since my last opportunity to get sun so the transformation had been dramatic.

*******************************

Lilly ran the comb down through my hair behind me, stopping just above my shoulders and running the clippers along the bottom of the comb.  I swallowed knowing how much hair had just fallen away, even though I couldn’t see it.  I knew this was the amount I would have been losing if I had just minded myself as instructed.  The guard was still standing next to the chair smirking, and I had a feeling things were gonna be going a lot further.

I watched my cloudy reflection as Lilly repeated the process on the side.  10 inches of the chestnut and mahogany locks sliding into my lap.  As she worked forward, she angled the comb up slightly.  Lilly then cut the other side.  It was soon all above my shoulders, just like Debby’s in the back, but higher in the front.  But Lilly wasn’t done since I still had plenty of chestnut left.  

Lilly combed hair out away from my head, and started to layer.  As she cut the upper layers short, the chestnut fell away revealing the dark mahogany underneath.

I looked over at the other mirror, the other stylist had totally given up on trying to get Chris to sit up, and was trying her best to even things out even though Chris was at such an awkward angle as she sobbed.  

Lilly kept layering away, combing the hair at my crown straight up and sliding the clippers along the top of the comb where the chestnut started.

Chris’s stylist was telling Chris it was all over and she could get up.  The prisoner with the broom was sweeping up.  Chris was still just sobbing into her hands.

I looked at the mirror.  My hair was just above my shoulders, but instead of a blunt lob, it was pretty much a wolf cut.  It wasn’t something I wanted, but it wasn’t completely terrible.  

All the chestnut was gone just as the guard had insisted.  Lilly was acting like I was done and started reaching to the back of my neck to release the cape.

“I still see highlights,” the guard lied coolly. “Keep cutting.”

Lilly sighed and retightened the velcro.  I looked over at the guard, who still stood next to me between the chairs, wanting to argue at the blatant lie.  The guard raised an eyebrow challenging me.  I kept my expression tight and looked back at the mirror.  

Lilly combed the layers up and started taking another inch off them.  As I watched the dark locks falling, and listened to the buzzing clippers gliding over the comb, I tried but failed to let go of my tension.

I looked over at Chris, who was finally getting up with the help of the stylist and the prisoner who’d been sweeping up.  The sweeper gently guided Chris back to the wall where we’d waited, since Chris was obviously sobbing way too hard to see.  Her hair was a little shorter than Debbie’s but longer than mine.

I looked back at my own reflection.  The contrast between the short layers on top and the longer layers that hung to my shoulders was getting a bit more drastic than was really fashionable.  Lilly was blending them in as I saw  Sharon saunter over to the other chair even though nobody had ordered her to.  I’m really not sure if the guards were planning to make Sharon get a haircut just because it was part of the routine, or if they’d planned to skip her since her hair was already well above her shoulders.

“Hi, Grace,” Sharon chatted with the prisoner stylist who’d cut Debby and Chris’s hair in a friendly manner as she sat comfortably in the shabby chair.  “How’s it been?”

“Not bad, pretty much the same old, though a lot of your old friends are out.”  Grace said casually as she put the cape over Sharon.

“Is Hannah still here?”

“Sorry honey, you’re going to have to find a new girlfriend.”  Grace then ran a comb through Sharon’s short crop.  “You just want me to clean this up a bit, take off a half inch?  Let me see if I remember; a number 3 on the side, tapered in the back, inch and a half on top?”

“Sounds good.”  Sharon smiled like she was a regular customer at an actual salon.

Grace flicked on the clippers and soon a short dusting of pale hair was falling to Sharon’s shoulders.  It was similar to the dark dusting that was falling to my shoulders as Lilly flicked the clippers through my too heavy layers trying to soften them.

Lilly turned off the clippers and again started reaching for the velcro.  

“I still see highlights,” the guard claimed.  “Keep cutting.”

I swallowed, wondering how short the guard was going to make Lilly go.  The layers were already very drastic.  Lilly flicked the clippers back on and started combing the layers up and taking off just a wee bit more.

“It’s going to take forever to get all the highlights if you only cut that little bit each time.”  The guard observed.  

Lilly combed the top up again and started taking a full inch off the layers up there.  I swallowed as we started heading into full on mullet territory.  As Lilly cut the front, short layered bangs began to brush my eyebrows.  It was still sort of a wolf cut, but not a very femmine one.

“Still way to many highlights on top, and the back looks stupid with the top so short, you should taper it.”

Lilly tightened, obviously suppressing anger.  She let out a shaky breath, and combed the hair up off my neck.  She then ran the clippers over the comb.  I felt the shoulder length locks fall to my shoulder.  As Lilly worked towards the front, I could see she was taking away the whole longer bottom.  It was completely losing that wolf cut shape.

I’d been trying so so hard to keep my expression blank, to not show emotion.  I felt the wet drop roll down my cheek though, and from the satisfied expression on the guard’s face, I knew she’d seen it too.

“That’s it .  That goes much better with how short you need to take the top to get rid of the last of those pesky highlights.  If the top’s got to be boy short the back and sides should match. Don’t you think?”  The guard said, rubbing it in.  “Keep going, take it up over the ears, I think I still see some highlights around there still.  I’m guessing she’ll have an easier time listening without all that hair covering them anyway.”

Lilly combed the hair just above my ear up, the comb resting on the tip of my ear.  When Lilly ran the clippers over the comb, I cringed at the buzz that went through the cartilage.  Hair brushed against my earlobe as it fell.  The guard, satisfied she’d taught me a lesson, finally walked off to go back to hang out with the other guard.

“Don’t worry,” Lilly whispered softly in my ear. “I’ll even it out, shape it into a nice pixie, give it some texture.  It will look good.”

I gave a tiny nod, though I didn’t really feel much better.  I kind of didn’t care if my hair looked good right now, the thing that upset me was that 3 months from now when my sentence was over, my hair will just barely have begun to grow back.  Chris and I had plea bargained away months, but this extra punishment we hadn’t been warned about was going to be affecting us for years.

I sat stiffly as the buzzing of the clippers continued around my head.  Hair fell piling up on my shoulders and adding to the pool of it in my lap.  Small snippets stuck to the wetness on my face, and inside my ears.

I glanced back over at Sharon who was chatting with Grace as Grace ran the clippers up the back of Sharon’s head with a guard on them.  I wondered if Sharon really liked her hair that short, or if she just liked not having much to lose.  Was her voluntarily asking for her hair to be cut even shorter than mine, shorter than the haircut I was crying over, a power move?

I looked back at my fuzzy reflection in the polished steel.  It didn’t matter whether or not Sharon actually liked her hair short.  I didn’t like my hair short.  It would be a year to make it to a passable bob from here, two till it was past my shoulders, three or four till it was back at my waist.  All because I had said no to a guy that was raised to not take no for an answer.

Lilly was flicking the clipper through the ends of what little hair I had left, blending without the texturizing shears that would make the job much easier.  Little bits of hair went flying through the air, I closed my eyes as bits flew towards my face.

When I felt the warm blades of the clippers pressed against my neck, I started trying to wipe my face off.  There was nothing really to do a proper job of it with, no tissues or anything.  I just wiped my face with my hand, then wiped my hand on my coveralls.  It was inefficient at best, disgusting if you really thought about it.

“GET BACK IN LINE!” The guard yelled.

I looked up and noticed Sharon’s haircut was finished, but she was still chatting with Grace as the other prisoner swept up.  Sharon just casually sauntered back to the line, almost as though it had been her own idea.  I noticed Lilly was unfastening the velcro on the back of my neck.  She pulled the cape off of me, spilling the piles of hair from it on the worn out dirty floor.  

As I looked at the heaps of my hair begin to be swept into the dust pan, my hand went up to the back of my neck, it was cold and exposed.  The short hair felt like it was clinging to my scalp in a way I’d never felt before.

“Back in line, Martyr Complex.” The guard said to me, then into her radio while I walked,  “We’re done at the beauty parlor, ready for us to move.”

*(static) bathroom break; (static) we need 10* a male voice said back.

The guards just went back to chatting with each other, no concern over telling us what was going on.  Chris was still sobbing, Debby and Tracy were comparing tattoos, Grace and Lilly were cleaning their clippers, and the sweeping girl was dumping a third dustpan full of my hair into the big metal trash can.  

I was still rubbing my neck, feeling the stubble at the bottom, and exploring the plush above with the tips of my finger.  I was looking at the hard to see reflection trying to figure out what I really looked like now.  My eyes were irritated from the crying.  I saw Sharon lean towards me.

“It takes a little getting used to, but it’s good to have short hair here.”  Sharon said to me.  “When you get into a fight, there’s less to grab.”

“I don’t plan to get into any fights.”  I informed her.

“Oh you’re going to be getting into fights, Martyr Complex,” she chuckled using my new nickname, that I hoped wasn’t going to stick. “I heard how you ended up here, and you couldn’t help yourself from standing up to a guard.  You’re going to stand up to others, it’s just your nature.”

“Didn’t help much,” I said, looking to my other side at Chris sobbing, and thinking maybe I should have just stayed out of it and gotten to keep way more hair myself, it wasn’t like my interfering had kept them from cutting Chris’ hair into the uneven bob.

“Sure it did.” Sharon stated in a low voice authoritatively.  “They’d have held her against the floor and practically shaved her head if you hadn’t distracted them.  I’ve seen them do it.”

I suddenly felt sick at the idea.

“OK LADIES,” the guard barked, “TIME TO GO!”

 

———————— Chapter 3. ———————-

————————-Meet Your Cellmate ————————

“Good night Martyr Complex.” The guard growled then laughed as she dropped me off for the night at my newly assigned cell, then slammed the door shut behind me.

The tiny dimly lit room had a toilet and sink in the corner, a bunk bed, a desk and chair, and two sets of open cubbies.  I figured the empty set would be mine.

“Hey girl,” a familiarly melodic voice said. 

I looked up at the upper bunk, it was Lilly.  Even in the dim light her smile shined like a beacon.  I smiled back.

“Hi, Lilly” I said, feeling strangely shy as I returned her smile. “I guess we’re roomies.”

“What’s your real name, girl?”  She asked as she put down her book, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Pamela.” I responded hopeful that at least one person wasn’t going to be calling me Martyr Complex. “Pam.”

“I’m sorry I had to cut off all that pretty hair.” Lilly gave me an apologetic half smile.  “They’d have given you a much worse haircut if I hadn’t.”

I ran my hand through the little pixie cut again, looking at my reflection in the small glassless polished steel mirror above the sink.  I wished I could look in a decent mirror to see what I really looked like, no make up and my hair gone.  I feared I looked like a boy with boobs. 

“Yeah, I gathered that from Sharon.  I know I shed a few tears when you did it, but it’s not a terrible haircut.” I had an urge to make Lilly feel better about what she’d done, since as unhappy as I was about it, I knew she’d done what she could to make it not too bad.  “I think I was more upset about the way the guard was being cruel than about the hair.”

“You know they put you in here hoping you’d still be angry and blaming me and we’d fight?”

“That hadn’t actually occured to me,” I admitted.  “Wouldn’t that make things hard for them because they’d have to come in and break up the fight?”

“Nah,”  Lilly just shrugged it off casually. “They probably think I would put you in your place.  I like that you stand up for others though.  In their minds, we’re just a bunch of bad criminals, not people who happened to run into problems.  By the way, what’cha in for?”

“Self defence.” I responded dryly trying to not sink into the angry righteous indignation that would get me nowhere.  

“Pretty sure that’s not what they charged you with.”

“Assault and battery.”  Then I added, it coming out snidely, “which is what they call self defense when the guy you’re defending yourself from is rich and connected.”

“That kinda fits the martyr complex thing” Lilly teased.

I had started putting my little pile of things in the empty cubby, and looked over my shoulder at Lilly.  “How about you, what did you get charged with, and what did you actually do?”

Lilly smiled warmly at my acknowledgement that she too was probably just given a raw deal.

“Shoplifting,”  she said.  “My sister was actually the one who’d been shoplifting and got caught, but she has 3 kids at home to feed, so I swapped purses with her in the store’s security office.  The prosecutor refused to give me a decent deal because he knew I was lying to protect her, and he wanted her instead.”

“That sounds kind of martyrish too.” I pointed out, then asked, “Why was she shoplifting if she has 3 kids depending on her?”

“Feeding 3 kids is expensive, and the food pantry was out of everything.”

“I guess that should have occured to me.” 

After having put away the couple of changes of clothing, towel, toothbrush and comb I’d been given, I was still holding sheets and a thin blanket.  I stood there staring down at it.

“The bottom bunk is yours, Pam.”  She said as she jumped down from the bunk .  “Want a hand making your bed?  It’s going to be lights out soon.”

“Thank you,” I swallowed back tears at the simple gesture of kindness.

Lilly was sweet and gentle as she helped me put the thin sheets over the mattress that was just 2 or 3 inch thick with a cracked plastic cover over the foam.  We had barely finished when it was lights out, and the light went from dim to off, the only light was what leaked in through the small window in the door.

I could just barely see as I watched Lilly slip out of her coveralls revealing one of the tank tops they’d given us to wear as undershirts then climb into bed in just the tank top and panties.  I did the same, the chilled air uncomfortable on my bare skin.

My bed was less comfortable than the yoga mat on a floor I had slept on a few times when I was between apartments and couch surfing.  I pulled the too short blanket up around my shoulders as I started shivering.  My bare neck and ears were freezing still, so I pulled the blanket up higher to cover them, but that exposed my feet.  I pulled my knees up to my chest to try and get as much of myself under the blanket as possible.  As I lay there shivering, I started to cry.

“Pam, are you ok?”  The melodic voice came down.

“I’m ok.” I said,

“Are you shivering?”

“Just a little.”

“Are you crying?”

“It’s been a little stressful today.”

“Oh girl,” Lilly chuckled, “that doesn’t sound like ok.”

“I’ll warm up and feel better once I’ve slept.”

“I’m coming down.” Lilly stated and started climbing down.

I felt the weight of Lilly’s blanket spread over me first, then her warm body climbing into the creaking bunk and pressing up against mine under the covers.  Lilly wrapped her arms around me.  I felt her hot breath on my bare neck, The shivers began to subside and I felt safe for the first time since I’d been attacked.  Something broke inside me, and I started to sob the way Chris had earlier.

“That’s it, let it all out Pam,” Lilly encouraged as she held me.

When my eyes were dry and my throat was sore, I found myself gently stroking Lilly’s fingers.  They were clean with short nails, soft and perfect.

“You have pretty hands.” I said not really thinking about how strange it sounded till the words were out.

“Thank you.”  Lilly whispered in my ear.  “Pam, have you ever been with a woman?”

“No.” I responded softly and continued stroking her fingers.

“I have.”  Lilly gently informed me.  “If it makes you uncomfortable I can go back up to my bunk.”

“I’d like you to stay.”  I said sorting through some confusing feelings I suddenly had.

“Ok Pam.” Lilly said.  “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“Ok.” I said as the tip of one of my fingers traced across Lilly’s palm and up her pointer finger.

“Do you want to do something?”  She asked.

“Like what?”

“If you want you can put those fingers up to your lips.”  Lilly suggested.

It was something that I really would not have thought to try, but somehow the moment that she said it, I knew I had wanted to from the moment I touched them.  I gently lifted the tip of her finger to my lips.  Sparks went through me, they felt new and familiar all at once.  

“Pam,” Lilly asked cautiously, “Have you ever thought about being with a woman?”

******************************************

I was sitting in Father Paul’s office in the rectory, talking with him.  I’d been seeing Father Paul every week for counseling for about a month, since a couple of weeks before my 16th birthday.  He’d mostly just listen to me.  He’d been kind and open.  He’d sympathized and related to a lot of the things I’d been through.  I figured this session would be like the others.  It wasn’t.

“Your mom told me a bit ago that you said you thought you might be a lesbian.”  He’d shifted the conversation.  “What is making you wonder about that?”

It was something I’d confided in her months ago in a moment I was feeling particularly confused and scared, when I’d had no one else I could talk to, before I’d had Father Paul to talk to.  I don’t know why I thought talking to my mother about the feelings I was having was a good idea, I should have known she’d tell someone, she’d never respected my privacy or acted like my feelings mattered.  I suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed.

Father Paul never acted like it was terrible or anything though.  We touched on the subject over several sessions.  He explained to me how things I was feeling didn’t mean I was a lesbian.  Gradually, I started to realize, my fears were just the normal worries all girls had because media made it seem like women were more interested in sex than they really were.  Women just are naturally attractive, it was all perfectly normal, and wouldn’t prevent me from having a husband and kids someday.

*******************************************

“Yes.”  My voice broke as I admitted it, something inside me broke as I admitted it, almost like a wax seal. 

I pressed Lilly’s finger to my lips, my eyes closed.  I felt so comfortable and confused at the same time.

“Do you want to be with a woman?” She asked me.

“I don’t know.” I’d been so sure that the lesbian thing had just been a mistake, just been a phase when Father Paul was counselling me, but now I was feeling suddenly confused.

“Pam,” Lilly’s lovely voice asked, “do you want to be with me?”

I couldn’t speak, I just found myself nodding as my lips parted slightly and I kissed the tips of her fingers.  I sighed deeply, and turned to face her.  I could barely just see her face in the dim light, but what I did see was beautiful.  I reached up and stroked her high cheek bone.

Pam stroked my short hair, resting her hand gently on the back of my head, she pulled me in, tenderly kissing me.  Feelings I hadn’t felt in over a decade shot through me.  Feelings I hadn’t felt since before I started sessions with Father Paul shot through me.

**********************************

“I double dare you to kiss Pam.”  one of the other girls challenged Carla.

I’d kissed boys, it had been boring and slimy.  It hadn’t meant anything.  I mostly felt silly.

Carla’s lips pressed against mine.  It wasn’t boring, it wasn’t slimy.  A spark shot through me, and I knew Carla could make me feel things no boy had ever made me feel.

I was confused, I was scared.  What if the reason kissing Carla had been so different was because she was a girl.  A pretty girl with high cheekbones, and an athletic body.  An athletic body I found myself staring at too often.

I felt so guilty for looking.

Father Paul had explained it was envy.  A perfectly natural emotion, but one we should control.

************************************

I started thinking the reason I had looked at Carla’s body wasn’t because of envy as my hands were suddenly gliding over Lilly’s slender but strong arms.  I wasn’t feeling envy as Lilly’s lips pressed against mine.  I was feeling wonder and lust and passion.

At first Lilly touched me the same way men often did, stroking my neck, cupping my breast, squeezing my nipple.  It felt the same, but also different in ways I could only barely sort out.   In some ways it felt much more wrong, this isn’t how things go in movies, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.  But in some other deeper way, it felt so much more right.

As we progressed, she asked me permission, she asked how things felt, she asked what I wanted.  I wasn’t always sure of the answers, so she just took it slow.

It was when she stuck her hand inside my panties that things were suddenly very different from what had ever happened with guys.  Her fingers felt so perfect as they caressed me.  Her beautiful fingers I had put up to my lips earlier.

“Touch me.” Lilly whispered in my ear.

I slipped my hand into her panties and began to explore.  I felt dumb that I barely knew what to do, barely knew what the parts were.  I had the same parts, shouldn’t I understand them?  I explored the folds, the opening, the protrusion.  It was warm and wet and slippery.  I didn’t quite know what I was doing, but it felt right.

I felt good beyond anything I had felt before, and a strange pressure started to build inside me.  It kept building up till I felt like I would explode.  And then I did.

I lay there, my hand still inside Lilly’s panties, my heart pounding.  Relieved.

I’d been with guys.  Occasionally it had felt sort of vaguely good, and I wondered to myself is that an orgasm?   I now knew, it had never been even close.

 

———————- Chapter 4. ————————

——————- 6 Weeks ———————-

I held my bangs up and back, as I examined the rather itchy red line that was healing from a gash into a scar.  It started about an inch above my right eyebrow, traveled down through the eyebrow, and ended about a quarter of an inch below it.  There was a series of black thread knots along its length, and the eyebrow it ran through was stubble to either side of it. 

“Do you think I’m going to have a bald spot here?” I asked Lilly, who was sitting on my bunk.

“Of course you are.” Lilly stated like it was the most obvious thing ever.  “Where do you think the whole shaved eyebrow slit thing came from?  It was an imitation of the bald spots you get after a gash gets stitched up.  People associated the bald spots with fighting.  It’s not going to be a sharp line like the shaved ones, some of the hair from next to the scar will probably cover it.  Don’t worry, it will just make you look tough.”

“I don’t really want to go around for the rest of my life looking like I got in a fight in prison.”  I sulked, thinking Lilly had a much bigger investment in my looking tough than I did, it wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned tough like it was a good thing.

I’d been upset enough when the nurse shaved off half of my eyebrow before stitching the gash closed, but I figured it would grow back.  The obvious gap in the stubble was upsetting me.  The bald spot was going to make the scar above and below the brow that much more noticable.  

“It’s not going to be that noticeable once the stitches are out, most people won’t even think about it.  If it comes up, just tell people the same thing you told the guards, you slipped and fell in the shower.  It’s a perfectly common accident, no one will question it.” Lilly soothed me. “Better to leave out the part where Maria also slipped while trying to help you up and somehow ended up with a broken nose.”

Sharon had been right about having shorter hair being an advantage in a fight, also that I would be unable to stay out of fights.  Maria’s shoulder length black hair had been a convenient handle as I slammed her against the tile when I’d pulled her away from Isabel.

“I know you’re upset about the scar,” Lilly continued as she got up and wrapped her arms around my waist. “but you are still very beautiful.”

 “Thanks.”  I said as I let my hair flop back to my forehead, and tried to make the hair that kept going in the other direction cover the scar more.

“When you come to the beauty parlor after breakfast, I’ll time it so you get me and make sure I leave you enough bangs to keep covering it.”  Lilly offered.  “I can also adjust it a bit to encourage it to want to part in that direction a little more easily.  It’s never really going to want to part in that direction, but I can try.”

“What do you mean when I go to the beauty parlor?” I asked, my hair was nowhere near below my shoulders yet.  “I didn’t ask for a haircut.”

“Everyone goes every 6 weeks, and it’s been 6 weeks.  Why did you think you didn’t have to go out picking up trash along the highway till after lunch today?”  Lilly explained.  “As long as you don’t piss off a guard though, all you have to do is sit in the chair for 5 minutes while I wave the clippers around over your head, they don’t care how I cut your hair. They don’t even care if I really take anything off or not as long as it isn’t obviously getting well below your shoulders.  They will only pay attention if you draw attention to yourself, so keep quiet and I can do whatever you want to your hair.  You can keep growing it out or I can do something different.”

“Different?”  I asked, a little confused by why Lilly would say that.

“I thought maybe you’d been getting used to having it short and would want to keep it that way, or maybe even take it a little tighter.”  Lilly said, I could tell she was trying to sound casual, but she sounded kind of hopeful.  “You did say it had advantages.  Maybe just a few adjustments to try to hide the scar a bit.  We’re going to be fighting your natural part, but taking a little weight out in the right places can help.  Wish they’d let us have thinning shears, clippers aren’t really the right tool for the job.  

“Or, we could just let the scar show.  Your hair is going to lay better if we don’t try to convince it to change and let it part the way it wants to.  Then I could cut it tighter.  It would look good tighter.”  Lilly continued as she stroked the hair on the back of my head, a little lust in her eye.  “It will feel nice tighter.”

“Tighter?” I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, I ruffled my hand through the slightly shaggy hair, did she mean more all one length?  I asked,  “Neater?”

She kind of shrugged and gave a slight shy nod.

I contemplated what Lilly had said.  I had just planned to grow my hair back, but something told me Lilly wasn’t as eager for that.  Thinking about it, Lilly had been stroking the back of my neck less as the velvety feeling had gone.

I looked in the mirror.  I was never going to look the same as I had before this happened, before I’d landed in jail.  Most obviously, there was the scar.  I could just keep bangs to cover it, but that would be a change.  I didn’t think I was ever going to be the same person again in other ways.  

I’d never be returning to the life I had before here.  I’d told my roommate to go ahead and get someone to replace me.  Too many people knew the address of that apartment, he could find it.  

I’d lost my job.  Besides, even if I could somehow convince my boss to take me back, that was where he’d shown up, he could easily show up there again.

Shitty as it was, I was scared to go back.  I didn’t want it to be that easy for the asshole who’d shown up at my work to find me.  He was the one that should have gone to jail and had his life turned upside down, not me.  I hadn’t had a perfect life, I’d been broke and scraping by, but I’d had friends and a place.  Simply cutting ties was the best way to not spend the next few years constantly looking over my shoulder.

I looked at Lilly, and remembered the other ways I’d changed.  How would those friends I’d made react if I told them I’d figured out I was a lesbian.  How were they going to feel about being my roommate, about sharing a bed to save money.

None of my old friends had been able to keep in touch with me in prison anyway.  The phone calls were too expensive.  

Nobody called me Pam anymore.  Not even Lilly.  There were three other girls in the prison already named Pam, so Martyr Complex had stuck.  Then it had gotten shortened to Marty.  Pam had been a long haired fairly innocent straight girl, Marty was a short haired scarred lesbian who knew the world was crap.

For better and worse, my old life was over.  Nothing else was going back to the way it had been, why should my hair.  And I had a feeling Lilly didn’t want it to, and Lilly was suddenly the most important person in my life.

I turned from the mirror, and my scar.  I kissed Lilly, my love, my comfort.  I looked at her face.

“What do you want to do with it?”  I asked.  “Do you think I should grow it out or keep it short?”

“Short is cute and practical,”  Lilly confirmed my suspicion as she gently petted my head,  “but if you want to grow it out, I won’t hate it.”

“You can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever?  Tighter?”

“Yeah, sure.” I shrugged off the question.  “Who else am I trying to impress?”

“What about hiding the scar?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the mirror, my hair had already reverted to its natural part. “You’re right, it makes me look tough.  Don’t worry about hiding it.”

 

—————— Chapter 5. ————————

—————————-Free Reign  ———————————

I watched Grace dawdle over trimming a bare dusting off the bottom of hair that was pretty much at shoulder length, maybe just a tiny bit below as I waited for my turn.  I suspected Lilly had asked her to help time it so Lilly would get me.  I knew it was something they did.  A couple of weeks back, Grace had stopped by while Lilly and I were having dinner, and casually asked Lilly to time it the next day so that Grace could have one of the Tiffanys, which Lilly casually agreed to.  

“I’m ready for whoever’s next.” Lilly’s melodic voice called out.

Lilly had finished before Grace as planned, and smiled at me as she shook out the threadbare cape.  I smiled at Lilly and started walking forward, rubbing my neck feeling the grown out hair that had been stubble after my last haircut and tried to prepare myself for the possibility it would be again.  

I sat nervously in Lilly’s chair, and gave her what I hoped was a fairly happy looking smile.  I tried not to show the apprehension I felt over giving her totally free reign.  Lilly smiled back reassuringly.  

Lilly shook out the cape again, and draped it over me.  This time, she easily fastened it under the small amount of hair that rested on my neck.  No need to pull it free like my previous haircut.

“Whatever I want?” Lilly confirmed softly in my ear.  “Tighter?”

I nodded even though I was a little unsure.  I knew she might just want to take it back to the same length she’d cut it the day I had arrived, and not just more even as she said tighter.  I kind of hoped she had just enjoyed the cleaner neck and was going to be leaving the top alone, letting that grow out.

I watched Lilly snap something from the little cabinet onto the top of the clippers.  She gave me a smile as she walked behind me.  I felt her comb through the back a couple of times, before she flicked the switch of the clippers and they roared to life with a pop.  She combed the hair behind my ear back and up slightly, and started to bring the clippers towards it.

I was prepared for the feeling of the vibrating machine being close to my head and the noise.  I was prepared for the half inch or so of hair I had grown since my first haircut to start falling.  What I wasn’t prepared for was what actually happened.

The clippers were pressed against my neck, then scraped against my scalp.  I watched as the chunk of hair that must have been at least 2 inches of hair, fell to my shoulder.  She was cutting off quite a bit more than I had grown.  I suddenly realized tighter meant shorter and closer to my head, not just neater.  A lot shorter.

I tightened my smile, even though my heart was pounding.  I watched the clippers traveling up the side of my head as hair tumbled down.  They kept going a good inch above the top of my ear, leaving behind a path of very short fuzz.  It looked pretty similar to the way Sharon got hers cut.  

I swallowed nervously.  Did Lilly really like it this short?  I looked up at her nervously.  I didn’t quite believe it, had she just made a mistake?  Was she trying to just make sure no one else looked at me?  Did she not really like me?

She looked down at me warmly and smiled.  Her delicate fingers brushed over the short bristles.  I could feel the warmth of her fingers, I could see the pleasure in her eyes.  She really did like it like this.

I would have loved it if she could have just kept petting the freshly cropped path for hours, but even having done it once with the guards in the room had been a gamble that they weren’t really paying much attention.  I looked over, they really weren’t paying attention, they were chatting and leaning against the wall, not even watching.  Still there were limits with the guards in the room.  Tonight after lights out, I would get to feel it again I hoped.

Lilly resumed cutting off what felt like way too much hair, pulling the clippers up the side of my scalp again next to the first strip she’d cut.  I felt the locks of hair land heavily on my shoulder, then tumble away down my back.  As Lilly started mowing the third path up the back of my head, I realized how chilly the first two paths felt.  

When the whole back of my head was feeling very bare, I watched as the hair around my ears was buzzed down to a similar short fuzz.  I was nervous, but Lilly kept smiling at me.

I wasn’t loving what I could see in the poor mirror in front of me.  I was absolutely hating the chill on the back of my head.  I was absolutely not a fan of the direction this haircut was going in.  But every time Lilly looked at me it was so warm and loving, I put aside any misgivings I was having.

After a bit, Lilly switched the guard on the clippers, and started going back over the bottom of the area she’d already cut.  She did it a few times, each time going a little less high.  The hair that fell to my neck felt like little splinters instead of big chunks.  She did it so many times though, I suspected that the whole bottom of my head would be as short as the hair on my neck had been last time.

Lilly eventually removed the last guard she’d put on the end of the clippers, and running the clipper over the comb as she began to shape the top to her liking.  Pretty big chunks of hair once again falling.

“It’s almost lunch time and you guys still have 3 haircuts to do.”  One of the guards observed turning away from her conversation and looking out over the room, then focusing on me and laughing.  “Jeez, that’s a lot of hair on the floor.  Martyr Complex, what did you do to piss Lilly off?”

My ears were burning and I was pretty sure my face fell into a frown, when the other guard joined in the laughing, his belly jiggling.

“Ignore them.”  Lilly said with annoyance, tuning the chair so I faced away from the jovial guards.  “It looks very pretty.”

Turned, I couldn’t see the guards out of the corner of my eye anymore, but I suddenly could see Maria who was the last in line.  She was smirking and giggling too.  The bruising from her broken nose was fading.  As much as I had technically won the fight in the shower, and a lot more of her blood had gone down the drain than mine, she wasn’t going to have a permanent reminder of it like I was.

“Yeah, you just keep telling her that Lilly and maybe she’ll believe you.  You trying to make a pretty boy for yourself Lilly?”  The guard jeered behind me.  “You know no matter how much hair you cut off, she ain’t going to grow a dick.”

They went on laughing at us as Lilly rubbed my shoulders from behind in an agitated manner.  I was holding back tears.  I knew they were just being deliberately mean, but they’d picked the right buttons and I was suddenly wondering if Lilly really was trying to make me look more like a guy.  I knew lots of the women here weren’t even really bi, but would sleep with women in prison because they were lonely.  

Did Lilly really want a man and just slept with me because I was convenient?  I felt stupid, I had been so unsure about the haircut anyway, now I was feeling unsure if the relationship that had motivated me to let her do this to me was real or just a substitute for what Lilly really wanted.

“Just ignore them.” Lilly pleaded as she petted the short pelt of hair she’d created.

“Lilly, you’ve got five minutes to finish making your cellmate look like a boy.”  The guard said.  “Then get to the next one.  And don’t take forever with the next one either.”

Lilly made an angry sound low in the back of her throat, but then did get back to cutting.  She also obviously had sped things up as she flicked the clippers through the ends of what little hair I had left on the top of my head.

As I watched dark hair rain in front of me, I lost my battle to not cry.  What little confidence I’d had that Lilly was trying to keep me an attractive woman was shattered.

I cringed when the blades of the clippers touched my ear while Lilly carved a line around them.  She was stroking the bare blades down my neck when the guard interrupted again.

“Time’s up Lilly.”  The guard ordered.  “Get to the next one.”

Lilly sighed grumpily, but put down the clippers and started unfastening the cape.  I was just putting my hands on the armrests to push myself up when I felt Lilly’s hand on my shoulder stilling me.

“Hold up, I missed a spot.”  She said as she reached for the clippers.

“TOO LATE LILLY!” the guard barked, “GET ON WITH THE NEXT ONE!”

Lilly sighed and let me up, softly mummering “sorry.”

I went and stood by the wall.  I felt awkward and exposed.  I hated that I just had to stand there, waiting as I watched my hair swept up.  Watching as Lilly just barely trimmed the next girl’s hair right at shoulder length.  Feeling jealous of her getting to keep a length that was still shorter than the length I had kept mine at before prison had taken it from me.

I wanted to be in my cell, I wanted to get on my bunk and pull my blanket up all the way and just let myself really cry.  Oh heck, what I really wanted was to be in the home I’d lost, on the couch we’d had.  Watching netflix and eating ice cream.  And then my roommate would have come home and would listen to me complain about the bad day I’d had.

I knew none of that was happening, so tried to just not think about it as I leaned against the wall.  I raised my hand to my head, and started feeling the bristles Lilly had given me on the back of my head.  As my hand moved down, the bristles gave way to velvet, which gave way to soft stubble.  My fingers moved along the M shaped hairline, and that’s where I found it.  At the very bottom of one of the M’s points just down from my left ear was the tiny patch of just 5 or 6 hairs still.  They must have been trapped under the collar of the cape when Lilly cut my hair.  I didn’t think they were quite a full inch long, but they were close enough to it and just such a contrast to the stubble.  I tugged the tiny hairs; knowing that even though I was wishing I could get all my hair back, those few longer ones right there were going to drive me mad.

The second to last person in line went over to Grace’s chair, leaving nobody standing between me and Maria as a buffer.  Maria eyed me, and sneered.  I sighed knowing she was about to rub my nose in the hurt.

“How you like that haircut Marty?  Enjoying being Lilly’s boy toy?” Maria teased. “Now you got no bangs to hide that nice scar you got.  Too bad you had to get it stitched up by a nurse instead of a plastic surgeon.”

“Eh,”  I blew off the remark, trying to pretend she wasn’t getting under my skin.  “It’s just a tiny scar, barely noticeable.  Too bad when you broke your nose they could only set it back the way it was before instead of fixing it.  If you want it fixed you’ll be needing plastic surgeon yourself.“

“Boo hoo, you hurt my feelings so bad.”  Maria responded sarcastically.  “You looking for more scars?  Another little slip in the shower, and you can get a nice big scalp laceration that the nurse will have to shave just like your eyebrow.  With your hair so short, it’ll only take 5 minutes to grow back.”

“I seriously really don’t give a shit if you want to tease me about my hair.” I informed her, pretending I had a thicker skin than I really did.  “You let Isabel shower in peace, and nobody has to slip in the shower.  And if anybody is getting a bigger scar next time there’s slipping in the shower, it ain’t going to be me.  I’ve got better balance and more friends who’ll catch me.”

“MARIA, GET IN LILLY’S CHAIR!” The guard interrupted, accidentally assisting me to get the last word in.  “Make it quick, it’s lunch time.”

I watched as Maria casually walked past the tiny dusting of hair Lilly had trimmed from the bottom of the previous girl, who joined me against the wall with her hair that still brushed her shoulders.  Maria climbed up into Lilly’s chair like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Leave it long.”  Maria requested with a casual confidence that she had no reason to think the request wouldn’t be honored.  “Like you did with the last girl.”

Lilly had finished shaking out the cape, but instead of tossing it casually over Maria, like she had with me and the other girls, she gathered a handful of the fabric on either side of the collar and gripped it tightly.  She looked down at the hands as she did it, choosing what parts of the fabric were gathered carefully and giving it test tugs.

Lilly looked over her shoulder, checking to see who was paying attention.  Most notably, it wasn’t the guards who had their backs turned as they made jokes, the self conscious part of me assumed at my expense, to each other.  Lilly positioned herself, with her back squarely to the camera.

When Lilly swung the cape over Maria, she did it extra quickly, and then immediately pulled back on it hard.  The collar of the cape was actually making an indentation into Maria’s neck.  Maria’s eyes suddenly went wide.  I could see the combination of shock, confusion, and fear written all over her bruised face.

“Like what I did for Isabel last week?” Lilly asked, her usually melodic voice had taken on a tone of threat I had never heard before.  “I heard you were talking to Isabel again yesterday.”

All the response that Maria gave was a slight gurgle, but I could see her hands groping for the armrests, trying to gain leverage to push herself up.  

“I think I’m going to have to take a little more off than that to keep you in the no hair below the shoulders regulation for the next 6 weeks.”  Lilly told Maria calmly, barely loud enough for me to hear, still pulling tightly on the cape.

Then she bent forward and whispered something too softly for me to hear directly into Maria’s ear.  Maria’s eyes grew even wider.  More fear combined with anger shot across Maria’s face, but she stopped straining to try to get up.  Lilly finally loosened her grip on the cape, and fastened it.  Lilly pulled Maria’s shoulder length hair out of the collar and grabbed her clippers without bothering to pick up a comb.

Lilly flicked the clippers on as she simply grabbed all of Maria’s hair and held it tightly in a bundle a few inches from the ends and not centered.  She was pulling tightly enough on the hair, that Maria was forced to lean uncomfortably to the side.  Lilly just haphazardly sawed through the bundle of hair.  Maria’s hair fell forward in an uneven bob halfway down her neck.  Lilly held the handful of shiny black hair out where Maria could see it, and slowly dropped it to the floor.

“All done!”  Lilly announced as she unfastened the cape and started taking it off of a very sour looking Maria.

“You know you don’t get paid by pounds of hair you cut.”  The guard laughed as she looked at the big handful of Maria’s hair on the floor.  Then looking at Maria asked, “isn’t that a bit crooked?”

“She was leaning to the side instead of sitting up straight.”

“Aren’t you going to even that out?”

“I thought you wanted to get to lunch?” Lilly’s voice had returned to her usual melodic tones as she reminded the guards what they really cared about.

The guards looked at each other, then the other guard said as he shrugged, “Good point.”

 

——————— Chapter 6. ———————

————————- Not Alone ————————

I felt alone.  

I was curled up in the fetal position on my bunk, my blanket pulled up over my too bare head.  My pillow was wet with tears, I shivered slightly even though I still had my coveralls on.  I faced the wall, the dim light to my back.

I heard the soft footsteps approach in a familiar rhythm.  I heard the frame of the bunk creak as weight was lowered on to it.  I felt the mattress sag behind my knees.  I felt the weight and warmth of a hand on my back.

“I’m sorry.”  The melodic voice spoke softly.

“Why?”  My tears started flowing again as I asked.  “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I seem to have hurt you,” she began to rub my back, her melodic voice sounding sorrowful, “even though I didn’t mean to.”

The rubbing felt good.  It increased the inner conflict between just wanting to be comforted by Lilly no matter what her motive was, and being scared the feelings only went one way and I was heading for heartbreak.  I was hurting in ways I’d never felt before in a relationship.  I remembered one boyfriend calling me an ice queen, because of how little I felt when we were fighting one time.  It was scary how deep my emotions were with Lilly.

“Were you trying to make me look like a man?” I asked, even though I was scared to hear the answer.  “Do you wish I was a guy?”

“I like women, not men, Pam.” Lilly assured me gently, using my real feminine name for the first time in weeks.  “I don’t just sleep with women when there are no men around.  I haven’t been with a guy since highschool.  Is that why you sat alone at dinner?  Because you thought I wanted a man and you were just a substitute?” 

“That was some of it.” I admitted miserably. “Did you cut all my hair off because you were pissed at me?  Were you trying to be mean?”

“I just like it like this.  I thought you would like it too.”  She said, sounding a little exasperated, then pulled the blanket down off my head.  “We talked about it this morning, you agreed about keeping it short and taking it tighter.  I like the way you look with shorter hair, I like the way the short hair feels.  It’s really practical here, gets you in and out of the shower faster.  There’s less to grab and be in your eyes in the shower.  It’s an advantage in the fights you’re not good at staying out of.  

“I also was aiming to make you look a bit tougher when I was cutting it.  I thought maybe if you look tougher, people will mess with you less.”  Lilly added, and stroked the short hair.  “It’s easier when everyone is scared to mess with you.  I have that, nobody ever messes with me, I wanted that for you too.”

“You don’t have a severe haircut.” I pointed out, as I wiped tears away.  “If nobody messes with you even though you look feminine, why do you think I have to look like this?”

“Nobody messes with me or Grace because everybody is at our mercy every 6 weeks.”  Lilly chuckled.

“Is that why you cut so much hair, so I’d go around as a reminder that you can do this to people?”  A whole new fear of ways I might have just been used.

“Not at all babe.”  Lilly assured me again, “I cut lots of ladies’ hair as short as yours because they want that.  You’ve seen them?”

It was true, so I nodded.

“When I cut your hair and their hair I do the best I can to make it look nice.”  Lilly explained sweetly, then changed tone.  “Now Maria… Maria is going to be a very good example for the next 6 weeks of what happens if you piss off Lilly or Grace.  Not just the uneven hair, she’s developing a pretty impressive bruise on her throat too.”

I turned over and looked up at Lilly who was looking down at me with sad concern.  I wrapped my body around Lilly as best I could, my head upon her knees.  I remembered how differently Lilly had acted during my haircut and Maria’s.  The way she’d stroked me and looked at me so warmly, versus the way she’d almost strangled Maria.  The way she’d asked for extra time to improve mine, versus the way she’d reminded the guards it was lunch time after just sawing off a single giant chunk of hair from Maria.

“So you actually like me?  You don’t just put up with me because I’m your cellmate?”

“Sometimes I think I like you too much,” Lilly said cryptically as she stroked down my head.

“I’m sorry,”  I apologized for doubting her.  “I guess I just let what the guards said get inside my head.”

“You don’t really like the haircut either do you?”  Lilly asked sadly as her fingers brushed through the bristles around my ears.  “We should have talked about it in more detail first.  I could see how nervous and surprised you were when I started cutting the back.  But you smiled back.”

“I guess I misunderstood what you meant by ‘tighter.’ I thought you mostly just meant less layered.”  I explained.  “I smiled back because it felt so good when you stroked it, and you seemed to like it, and I wanted to do something you liked.”

“Ah,” Lilly looked like she’d come to an unhappy realization.  “I guess we had totally different ideas when we talked about it this morning.  I probably missed some of the signs you weren’t going to like it, because I was too eager.”

“I liked the way you look at me and touch me, when you were doing it, and now.”  I said.  “I want you to like my hair.  The guards just made me doubt it.”

“They made me miss this bit back here too.”  Lilly reminded me as she tugged the offending little patch of hair.  “It’s not as good a haircut as you deserve.”

“As long as you were genuinely trying your hardest, I understand that you were working under constraints.”

“I wish I still had the kit I got when I enrolled in beauty school.”  Lilly lamented as she ran her fingers through the hair on the top of my head.  “I’d have done a better job.  Flicking a clipper through the ends isn’t the same as point cutting and using texturizing shears.  I wish I could give you a really good haircut, proper tools, no interruptions, no distractions.”

“You could when we get out.”

“There’s going to be no beauty parlor for you to come to for me to cut your hair at when we’re out of here.  The kit is gone,” Lilly said stiffly.  “I told my sister to go ahead and sell it.  And my license isn’t going to be worth much considering how I completed it, nobody is going to hire me.”

“How did you complete it?” I asked.

“I completed it here.” Lilly told me.  “I had finished my course work, but still needed 120 more supervised hours till I got my license when I was arrested.  So the prison arranged for me to finish the 120 hours with Grace as my supervisor.”

“That was surprisingly nice of them.” I commented, a bit shocked anything nice had ever been done by them.

“Nice?  Hardly.”  Lilly snorted.  “They needed another licensed beautician, and they could either pay a civilian one the going rate, or let me finish my license then pay me the same 25 cents an hour you get to pick up trash.  Best of all for them, they didn’t have to pay me for the first 120 hours since that counted as school work.”

“That sounds more like this place.”  I agreed, then changed back to the topic of after we got out of here.  “We can get you a new kit when we get out of here, and maybe you can work independently.  We’ll figure something out.”

“What we?”  Lilly snorted again.  “You’re getting out in 7 weeks, I’ve got another 5 months.  You’ll be happily settled into your new life when I get out.”

“I can get things ready for when you get out.”

“You should just worry about yourself when you get out, it’ll be hard enough.”  Lilly took on an instructional tone.  “You’ll have forgotten about me by the time I get out.”

“I’m never going to forget about you.” I told her with conviction. “I can wait a few months.  I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“You’ve trauma bonded with me.” Lilly insisted, the fingers that had been stroking my head stilling.  “You were scared and needed comfort, you’ll find yourself a nice boyfriend when you leave here, and be happy, and forget me.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m a lesbian.” I admitted for the first time in over a decade.  

“Ok, you’ll find a nice girl friend then.  Someone you have more than a prison cell in common with.  And you’ll forget me.”

I sat up, I looked at Lilly and I knew.  “I love you.”

“You just need me for now.” Lilly’s voice cracked.  “It’s trauma bonding.”

“You don’t feel the same way?” I asked, scared.  “Are you just looking for temporary comfort?  Do you just feel like you’re trauma bonding?”

Lilly closed her eyes, I saw a tear catch the dim light.  She breathed in heavily and released it.

“I can’t let myself.” Lilly’s melodic voice had become shaky.  “If I say I love you, it is going to hurt even more when you leave.  It isn’t trauma bonding for me, because I’d been here 2 years before you came.  It’s going to break my heart, but you will move on.”

I leaned against Lilly, and held her and kissed her damp face.  I knew she was wrong, but I knew she couldn’t know that till time had proven it.  

—————————- Chapter 7. ————————

—————————— Just 3 more days ———————————

If I’d been growing my hair out from the required shoulder length haircut, I’d be pissed that I was scheduled for another one just days before my release.  As it was, I didn’t really mind that I would be getting one last trim from Lilly before I had to head out and try to form a semblance of a real life with a felony record hanging over my head.

I was assuring Lilly over breakfast that I really did want her to cut my hair the same way she had before.  Telling her I had gotten used to it.  As we chatted, I saw Sharon and Big Boob Pam heading over to our table.

“We need to talk to you about Maria.”  Sharon said to Lilly, and started sitting down.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” I said and started to get up.

“Stay, Marty,” Sharon requested.  “You can help with timing.”

“Ok,” I said and sat back down.

“You warned Maria to stay away from Isabel 6 weeks ago, right?” Big Boob Pam asked Lilly.

“Yeah,” Lilliy confirmed. “She also was warned to leave Isabel alone when Marty broke her nose.  That’s when Marty got that scar.”

“Well, she needs to be given a more long lasting warning.” Pam said, leaning forward and resting her boobs on the table.  “Can you take care of that today?”

“Sure, I’m willing,”  Lilly said casually,  “but she’s going to do anything she can to avoid me.”

“I talked to Grace,” Sharon explained.  “She is ok with timing it, but isn’t up to doing it herself.  She says she’s too old for that crap, which she really kind of is.”

Pam and Lilly nodded in agreement.  I’d gathered that Grace had already been here for 28 years of her life sentence for killing her husband, she was probably pushing 60.  According to most he’d deserved it.  From the way her daughter acted when she brought Grace’s grandchildren to visit, she seemed to agree that her dad had deserved it.

“So, we need to make sure Maria goes to you even though she will be trying to avoid it.”  Sharon continued.  “That’s where you can help, Marty, making sure Maria is second in line.  I’ll make sure I’m first in line, and will go to Grace as first in line usually does.  I told the other girls scheduled for haircuts today that they wanted to be as far back in line as possible, so if you position yourself as third, we should be able to force Maria into second and she won’t have a choice about going to Lilly.”

“Got’cha.” I confirmed with a nod, but then something else occured to me.  “Does that mean I’m not going to get Lilly though?”

“Don’t worry,” Lilly assured me with a smile, “you’ll get me.”

 

————————— Chapter 8. ————————

—————————— A more lasting impression ————————-

Sharon claimed the first spot on line pretty easily.  She’d just had to show up to get in line to be escorted to the beauty parlor early.  Forcing Maria into the second spot wasn’t quite so easy, but since the lining up happened before we got to the beauty parlor, it wasn’t like she had calculated ahead of time that she specifically wanted to be in first slot, or to try to aim for a later slot to do something like claiming she had to go to the bathroom to avoid Lilly.  It only took a little making excuses to get Maria where we wanted her.

It wasn’t till we walked into the beauty parlor, where Lilly and Grace were oiling the clippers, that Maria realized she was positioned to make avoiding Lilly nearly impossible.  

“I need to go to the bathroom!” Maria claimed to the guard as we lined up by the wall.

“Don’t make my day hard,” the guard grumbled.  “You should have gone before we left.  Now line up.”

 “I’m ready for the first lady.” Grace announced and smiled at Sharon who simply sauntered over to the chair.

“I’m ready for the next girl.” Lilly informed the guards in her gentle melodic tone and waited patiently behind her chair holding the cape at the ready.

“I want to wait for Grace,” Maria pleaded.  “Martyr Complex can go next.”

“Just get in the damned chair.” The guard grumbled.

“You saw what she did to me last time.” Maria begged the guard then turned to me.  “You don’t mind, right Marty?”

“I’m just doing as I was told, minding myself and waiting my turn.”  I said to the guard who’d taught me that my first day.

“Just go get your fucking haircut Maria.”  The guard ordered.  “We won’t rush her as much this time.”

“It’s not below my shoulders.”

“So just ask her to even it out.”  The guard growled impatiently.  “And I’m done with this conversation.”

Maria approached the chair, giving Lilly a dirty look.  Lilly just returned an innocent smile.  The guard was watching, eliminating the possibility of violence this time, so I wondered what Lilly could actually do other than cutting it unevenly again.  

Maria sat agitated as hell, while Lilly draped the cape over her with calm professionalism, then smoothly pulled it up over her shoulders.  Lilly calmly fastened the cape around Maria’s neck as one of Maria’s knees started jiggling up and down.  Lilly was as gentle as always when she pulled Maria’s hair free from the collar.

When the pop of clippers turning on came from Grace’s side of the room, Maria startled hard, giving away how on edge she was.  Grace started running the clippers up the back of Sharon’s head, and 6 weeks worth of mousy brown growth fell to the floor and Sharon’s shoulders.  The blonde had been gone from the back and sides after Sharon’s last haircut, leaving just blond tips on the top, those were going to be gone with this haircut.

“Why are you so agitated, girl?”  Lilly asked with a gentle chuckle to Maria.  “It’s almost like you’re trying to hide something.  Just relax.”

Lilly’s suggestion didn’t appear to relax Maria even a little bit.  I was really curious what Lilly could actually do with the guards actually paying close attention.  Maria’s eyes darted back and forth around the room.

Lilly started combing Maria’s hair, perfectly gently, just smoothing the black uneven bob out.  Then she paused.

“What’s this girl?” Lilly asked, as she parted slightly with the tip of her comb.

“She’s lying there’s nothing there.” Maria insisted.

“Is that a nit?” Lilly’s voice had a hint of disgust as she parted Maria’s hair in another spot.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!”  Maria screamed at Lilly and got up out of the chair.  “SHE’S LYING!”

“Why would I lie?”  Lilly asked with just a hint of challenge in her voice, because of course Maria couldn’t admit the motivation was that she’d been threatening Isabel.

“Maria, just get back in the chair, so Lilly can take care of the problem.”  The guard ordered blandly as the other guard walked over to Lilly’s cabinet and unlocked the middle drawer I had never seen used.  “Is this why you were being so weird about getting your haircut?  Because you thought you might have lice?  Has your head been itching?”

“NO!  She’s lying,” Maria continued to insist as Lilly started taking stuff out of the second drawer.  “Let Grace check.”

“I don’t want to have to disinfect my stuff too.” Grace said as she paused Sharon’s haircut now that she’d been dragged into the drama.  “This room is going to smell bad enough after Lilly sprays down her chair and stuff.”

“BUT SHE’S LYING!”    Maria desperately pleaded to get anyone to believe her.

“What would make me lie?”  Lilly asked innocently, while placing an aerosol can on the top of the cabinet.  “I’m going to have to be smelling these toxic chemicals for days.  What could possibly make me put up with that?  And I don’t lie!”

It occured to me, Lilly had actually managed to not technically lie.  She hadn’t said Maria had lice, she’d just asked if that was a nit, then asked why she would lie.

“You can check, you’ll see, I don’t have lice.”  Maria, who was walking towards the back of the room still wearing the cape, tried to convince the guards.

“I’m not touching it.”  The guard said with open disgust.  “Now get back in the chair.”

Lilly had pulled the final item from the middle drawer, a smaller set of clippers.

“WHAT ARE THOSE?!” Maria asked.

“The blades on the regular clippers don’t cut close enough to eliminate lice completely.  Need to make sure we get every nit to assure lice don’t come back.”  Lilly calmly explained holding up the smaller cordless clippers.  “These have a finer blade, they are a little slower though.”

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Maria turned back to the guard.

“Well I could, but I’d really rather not, considering how gross lice are.” The guard stated calmly, “so get in the chair so Lilly can deal with them.”

“NO!” Maria insisted, the panic showing in her eyes.  “How would I have even gotten lice if no one else has them?”

“You were pretty cuddly with that boyfriend of yours when he came to visit.”  Sharon suggested in a very helpful tone.  “You know, the boyfriend that Isabel used to work for.”

It was a not so subtle reminder that we knew that Maria was trying to pressure Isabel to go back to working for him when Isabel got out next month.  Isabel had other plans, better plans.  Better plans that were going to be hard enough to actually make happen, she didn’t need Maria and the boyfriend making it harder.

“I don’t have lice.”  

“How would you know if you have lice?  You can’t see your own head.”  I pointed out.  “I saw you scratching your neck earlier.”

It was actually true that I’d seen her scratch her neck, though it had been the front of her neck, not anywhere near her scalp.

“They’re all lying.” Maria pleaded.

“This is your last warning.” The guard said, in a tone I’d heard from her before.  “Get back in the chair and this can happen the easy way, or I’m clearing the room and it’s going to happen the hard way.”

“But they’re lying!” Maria still didn’t move towards the chair.

“OK,” the guard barked.  “EVERYONE ELSE, OUT IN THE HALL AGAINST THE WALL.”

Sharon calmly rose from the chair, taking off the hair covered cape.  Lilly and Grace put down their tools. The sweeper, Jenny, carried the broom over to the far corner of the room well out of Maria’s reach. Then we all just casually walked out the door as Maria started screaming “NO! NO! THEY’RE LYING!”

We lined up against the wall, Lilly claiming the spot to my right.  The quiet guard came along to keep an eye on us as the guard that liked barking orders pulled out her baton, blocking the screaming Maria from going anywhere.

“We need back-up down at the beauty parlor.” the quiet guard spoke into his radio.  

As we waited for the extra guards to show up, Lilly gently touched my fingers with hers.  She looked at me with a question.  I think she wondered if I ever thought badly of her for doing things like this.  I gave her a little sad half smile.  We all did things here we weren’t proud of.  Things we didn’t feel good about.  Things that were necessary.  I stroked her fingers back, giving her what reassurance I could that I believed we were doing the right thing even if it felt bad.

Soon, 4 guards showed up, and swiftly walked past us into the beauty parlor.  We stood watching with blank expressions as they handcuffed Maria and wrestled her to the floor.  Her face was turned to us, her cheek pressed into the concrete, hate in her eyes as she looked at us.

When the high pitched whine started Maria closed her eyes tight.  

One of the guards that had come as back-up, placed the blades of the clippers at Maria’s temple, and started to pull them back into her shiny black hair.  He pulled back slowly, revealing the faintest shadow left on Maria’s scalp behind the humming machine.  The shiny black hair slid away from her head.  

The guard tossed hair out of his way, and placed the whining clippers on Maria’s forehead, and started shaving another path.  More of her hair was tossed away onto a pile.

It was horrible watching the guards just being so casually cruel.  I couldn’t look away though I wanted to as Maria’s head was being shaved bare.  I had a slightly sick feeling in my stomach as I contemplated the part I had played in this happening.  Knowing we had manipulated them into it made watching feel that much worse.  

They weren’t being gentle, roughly folding Maria’s ear forward as they shaved the scalp around it.  Then they grabbed her face as they turned her head to face the other way, so they could shave the other side.

I watched, we all watched silently, as the clippers went up the back of her head.  Revealing the shape of her skull.  Laying plain blemishes and old scars.  Showing the little tattoo behind her left ear.  

When they were mostly done, and all the fight was out of her, they pulled her up into a sitting position and cleaned up any tufty patches they’d missed while her head was pressed to the floor.

“Are you going to be cooperative and take off the coveralls yourself,” the guard asked Maria, “or do we have to strip you?”

 

—————————— Chapter 9. —————————

——————————- Back to Business —————————-

When Maria was finally being escorted away, bald and stripped, she glared at all of us with a hate that was so hot, it almost felt like my skin was burning.  The guards were talking to each other about ways to avoid getting lice from us.

Jenny and Lilly were sent in to disinfect the room.  Lilly went through the motions, like she really had found lice, spraying everything with insecticide and bagging up the cape and Maria’s clothing.  I wasn’t sure if Jenny knew there weren’t really any lice and was a good actress as she held the dust pan full of Maria’s hair as far away from herself as possible, or if she hadn’t been told because she didn’t need to know.

We just kept waiting in the hall with the quiet guard, letting the insecticide settle while Jenny and Lilly took bags away escorted by the guard that liked to bark orders.  When they returned, we all walked back into the now extra smelly beauty parlor.  Nothing was said about what had happened.

Sharon and Grace went back to Grace’s chair.  Sharon casually sat as Grace put the cape back on her, then fired up her clippers and started running them up the back of Sharons head again.  Lilly went to her cabinet and took out another cape, as threadbare as the one that had been bagged up with Maria’s clothing.  

“I’m ready for the next girl.” Lilly called out, and smiled at me.  “Looks like that’s you Marty.”

I walked over to the chair, much more easy going than the previous times.  I sat down, and smiled up at Lilly.  Lilly swung the fresh cape over me.  I liked that it was fresh from the laundry, even though the smell of insecticide was too strong for me to tell if it smelled any better.

“Same as last time?” Lilly checked.

I nodded and smiled up at Lilly.  Lilly flicked on the clippers.  

As I felt the clippers going up the back of my head, and watching nearly an inch of hair tumbling into my lap I started crying again.  Not because I was upset about the haircut this time, but because I knew it might be the last one Lilly ever gave me.

 

——— Chapter 10. ————

——————- Last Night ————-———

I faced Lilly, we lay on my too narrow to be comfortable bunk,  just like we had every night for the last 3 months.  Her hand was on the back of my head, stroking the short pelt of hair that she loved the feel of.  I stroked her beautiful face, tracing her high cheek bone with the tip of my finger.  I traced down to her soft lips, they rose into a smile as my finger pressed into them.

“I want to be out of here so badly, but I can’t stand that you aren’t coming with me.”  I whispered to her.  “I can’t stand that I won’t be able to touch you.”

“I don’t want you to dwell on it and be sad.” She spoke softly back, in the voice that felt like music.  “Getting out of here is a good thing.”

“At least I will get to hear your lovely voice on the phone,” I smiled.  “And see you when I visit, even though it won’t be like getting to lie next to you.”

Lilly sighed deeply and closed her eyes.  When she reopened them, she had a very determined look on her face.

“I don’t want us to call.  I don’t think you should visit.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice cracking.  “I need to hear and see you.  I need to know if you’re ok.  I love you.”

“We need a clean break.”  Lilly said authoritatively, obviously burying pain she felt.  “You need to have room to figure out if you really have feelings for me, or if you were just scared and lonely.”

“I don’t need time, I know how I feel.”  I tried to assure her.

Lilly stroked my head again, and then said slowly, “I need you to take the time.  I need to know that you are sure,  I need this ok?”

“If it’s what you need.” I agreed.  “I’m going to hate it, and it’s going to be torture, but for you.”

“You’re being way too dramatic.” Lilly smiled at me with a hint of amusement.  “It’s just 3 months.  And if I’m right and you just trauma bonded with me, you’re only going to be sad for few days, then realize you are a pretty girl named Pam, instead of a prison inmate called Marty, who is ready to get back to your old normal life as much as possible.  You may have totally forgotten about me in 3 months.”

“I don’t want to forget about you,” I almost moaned.  “Calling won’t change that.  Can we please call?”

“Remember, I need this.” Lilly reminded me.  “I need you to have the opportunity to forget about me.  I want to know that how you feel 3 months from now is how you really feel.  Besides, we can’t afford 21 cents a minute, can we?”

I nodded as I sighed.  21 cents didn’t sound like a lot, till you thought about how quickly it could add up.  A 5 minute conversation would be over a dollar, and 5 minutes would never be even close to enough time.

“3 months from now,” Lilly said.  “You’ll know where to find me.  If you feel the same way, come.  If you feel different it’s ok.  I will go to my sister, and you can just move on.”

“Tonight?” I lifted my eyebrows, as I asked.

“Tonight,” Lilly smiled warmly, as her hands travelled into the blanket,  “we enjoy being with each other.”

Her warm lips pressed against my chilly ones. Her hands found their way around my waist to my back, and inside my under shirt.  Then one hand moved down to my butt.

My own hands began to explore Lilly’s warm flesh.  I felt her soft heavy breast in my hand.  I teased and gently pinched her nipple.  Lilly pulled back from the kiss as she softly moaned in pleasure, just barely a whisper so the guards wouldn’t hear.  I began to kiss her exposed neck.

We moved our fingers inside each other’s panties at pretty much the same time.  We matched our rhythms as we began to stroke each other.  I found the swollen protrusion Lilly had taught me was the clitoris I’d heard about but had never been totally sure what was.  We took turns climaxing, till we were both exhausted enough to sleep.

————————- Chapter 11. ——————————

——————-3 Months, 5 Days, 23 Hours, and 56 Minutes —————-

I looked at the clock on the dashboard of the 2002 Ford Focus I’d borrowed.  It had been exactly 3 months, 5 days, 23 hours, and 56 minutes since I walked through the doors I was parked facing.  They should open again in 4 more minutes.

I opened the door, and stepped out into the drizzle.  I knew I should just wait inside the car and stay dry, but I was way too excited.  I had the hood of my gray sweatshirt pulled up anyway, and it wasn’t that cold.  Standing there I had an internal debate over whether or not I should be holding the present or give it to her in the car.

The present wasn’t new.  I’d gotten it off craigs list.  It had taken over a month and a half to find.  I’d started looking after my first pay day.

The job wasn’t great, but it came with one major benefit, a hotel room I could live in.  It was the kind of job I would never have considered before I went to prison.  It was the closest I was going to get to above board employment after.  The job itself was perfectly legal, night clerk at a hotel.  Most of the things that happened in the hotel were not particularly legal.

The reason the hotel owner didn’t mind that I had a felony conviction was because I was supposed to just look the other way for illegal activity of paying customers that didn’t cause problems, but deal with anything that would cause problems myself before it caused damage or brought police to the place.  So hookers were fine, but make sure nobody tries to set up a meth lab.

I decided to hold the present.

I was standing nervously next to the car, hoping the dollar store wrapping paper wouldn’t melt, when the door opened.  5 women walked out, pulling their inadequate clothing closed against the rain that had started falling harder.  They each looked around, taking in their surroundings for a moment before they started to walk.  They started trudging through the parking lot in the direction of the bus stop.

I nervously worked my fingers against the box as I picked her out from the little crowd.  I was scared.  Scared she didn’t want me anymore, scared that what I had to offer her wasn’t enough.

I thought about the conversation with the hotel owner when he showed me the efficiency I could live in.  

*******************************

“This place was built with two efficiency suites.” He informed me as he turned the key and the door swung open.  “I don’t want guests having access to stoves though, so I don’t let anyone but staff stay in them.  The maid and handyman live in the other one.  If you want it, I’ll only take a hundred bucks out of your paycheck once a month to cover the utilities.”

I looked around the motel room.  There was a queen sized bed, a dresser with a TV on top of it, a settee with floral upholstery, and a desk that also could be used as a table with two chairs.  It had a sad little kitchenette in a corner, so it really did count as an efficiency, but calling it a suite was a bit of a stretch.

“It’s a lot nicer than my last place.” I complimented it truthfully.

“What about where you are now?” he asked casually.

“I’m couch surfing now,” I admitted, leaving out the part about not having a couch lined up for that night.  “My girlfriend’s getting out in two and a half months, she’s a hairdresser.  Would it be ok if she did hair here?“

“Cutting and styling, I don’t care soes long as you clean up.” He’d answered. “But nothing that’ll ruin the carpet if it spills, so no perms or color type shit.  Got me?”

I’d looked down at the green acrylic indoor outdoor berber on the floor.  The stuff people usually put on screened in covered porches.   A few more years and it might count as vintage.

“Got’cha.” I’d agreed.

*******************************

I gripped the box, took a deep breath and called out. “Lilly.”

She froze, just staring in my direction.  I put the box down on the wet car, trying to keep the paper dry suddenly feeling unimportant. I started walking.

As I stood before Lilly, her expression changed from one of almost disbelief to relief.  I wrapped my arms around her.  She leaned into the hug and returned it.  We just stood there, the rain falling on us for too long.  

When we finally pulled back, I could see Lilly’s cheeks were wet with something other than rain.  I blinked and something too warm to be rain rolled down my cheek too.

“Let’s get out of the rain I said.” As I took her hand and gestured towards the car.

As we walked towards it, I suddenly remembered the present.  I was also suddenly very nervous to give it to her, what if it wasn’t right.  It’s not like I’d really known what I was doing when I’d looked for it.  For all I knew I’d bought second hand overpriced junk.  The woman I bought it from probably knew even less than me since she’d just bought it to get through quarantine without her family getting too shaggy.

When I got in the car and sat down, I just held the box on my lap nervously.  Lilly just sat in the passenger seat, looking unsure.  I started playing with the bow on the top of the box.

“So…uhm…this might just be total crap,” I started nervously.  “If it isn’t right, it’s ok, you can say so, it won’t hurt my feelings.  I didn’t pay a lot, I just happened across it on craigs list.”

I finally stopped babbling and held the box out to Lilly, who still just looked like she wasn’t sure any of this was real.  Lilly took the box, her hands shook as she opened it.  She looked down into the open box and her lip quivered.

“Oh sweety, it’s perfect.”  She said.  “I wasn’t even sure you were coming, and you got me a present.”

She lifted the thinning shears up, then checking the other shears.  She looked through the box, picking up the case with the clippers.  Looking at the feathering razor, that was still unopened in its package because the lady I’d bought it from had been too scared to actually try it.

“Are they ok?  Are they good enough for you to use?”  I asked anxiously.

“Honey, they are fine.”  Lilly smiled at me.  “I don’t know where I can use them, but they’re perfect.  Thank you.”

“I have ideas, we can talk about.”  I said.  “But I don’t want to pressure you.  I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I’m already overwhelmed, but it’s good.”  She said.  “I had such a hard time trying to not get my hopes up that you would actually come.  But you came.”

“Of course I came.”  I assured her.  “I love you.”

I reached over and stoked Lilly’s damp cheek.  She reached back and put her hand inside my hood, and into my hair.  She looked in my eyes, finally looking like she believed me, that she trusted I knew my own feelings.

“I love you too.”  She finally let herself respond.

I leaned over, and began to kiss her.  Feeling her soft lips against mine.  I had missed that feeling so much.  As we kissed and embraced, my damp hood fell back, revealing my shaggy hair.  When we had to stop, because if we went any further we were risking getting rearrested for indecent exposure, Lilly stroked through my shaggy hair, and tucked it behind my ear.

“You’ve let your hair grow out,” she observed.  “Are you going back to being Pam the sweet girl next door with the long pretty hair.”

“No.” I smiled.  “I’m still a tough dyke called Marty.  I just haven’t gotten a haircut in three months because my stylist has been unavailable.  But I think that won’t be a problem much longer.”

Lilly smiled.

 

——————— Chapter 12. ————————

————————How I like it? —————————-

I sat on one of the chairs in my little efficiency, waiting as Lilly checked over the tools laid out on the desk again.  I told her if she was tired because it had been a long day, that it wasn’t an emergency, but she said she wanted to. 

The first thing we did after leaving the Abby behind, was go to a diner so Lilly could have her first decent meal in over three years, pancakes.  Then we went to her sister’s apartment, where she’d picked up some clothing and stuff.  Her sister hadn’t sold everything from the kit, just the items that had a high enough resale value to be worth the trouble.  After we were done visiting Lilly’s sister, we’d stopped at a Sally’s to pick up the few things that hadn’t been part of the kit I got off craigs list or still in the box of Lilly’s stuff.  She’d been shy about spending my money, but I’d assured her it was fine as long as she didn’t go too crazy it would cost me less than going to a salon.

I faced the glass mirror on the wall between the desk and dresser that had the TV on top of it.  Realizing this was going to be the first time I could actually properly see what I looked like at the end.  Lilly looked surprisingly nervous as she rearranged the tools again.  She finally took a deep breath, and picked up the cape.

“How I like it?” She asked me again.

I reached up and put one hand on her waist, and gently stroked her back with the other.  It was nice not having a guard yell at us for it.  I wrapped my arms around her, letting them slide down to her hips as I rested my head against her belly.

I could ask her to just level up the back so it would grow out more gracefully.  I could have my long hair back in another year or two.  I could tell Lilly what I wanted instead of just hoping I wasn’t going to hate what she wanted, since I suspected they weren’t exactly the same thing.

Maybe I could ask her to do a bit of an undercut.  She’d have the short hair she loved to pet in the back, but I could have some longer hair to style over it.  It would be a good compromise.

*******************

I stood in front of the door, waiting after I had rung the bell.  I had a key, and no reason to expect Michelle had changed the lock, but I didn’t live there anymore, so I waited.  Unless Michelle’s work schedule had changed, she should be home.  I nervously tugged at the hem of the plain white blouse that was part of the uniform I been wearing when I got arrested.  At least it was a fairly generic uniform, white button down blouse, plain black polyester slack with and elastic waist. green apron I had just tossed in the trash as I walked out of the Abby before heading to the bus stop.

“Hi,” Michelle said blandly without any warm familiarity when she opened the door.  “Can I help you?”

“Hey Michelle.  I just want to pick up some of my stuff if you’ve still got it.” I answered a little uncomfortably.

“Pam?”  Michelle asked with wide eyes.  “What the hell happened to you.”

“You know,  I’ve been in fucking prison for the last 3 months.” I reminded her sarcastically as she stepped back and held the door open to let me in.

“Ok, but…” Michelle stammered, as I walked into the apartment I used to pay one third of the rent on.  “It was only 3 months.  Jeez you’ve changed.  What the hell did they do to you?”

“Nothing special.” I said a bit defensively as I looked over at the mirror that hung next to the door above the shelf we’d always put stuff down on when we got home.  

It was the first time I’d looked in a real mirror since the night I’d been arrested.  The polished steel excuses for mirrors at the Abby had softened the details.  I’d known I’d lost weight, but hadn’t realized the degree my cheeks had gotten sucked in from it.  It made me look a good 5 years older.  It was the first time I saw my new scar clearly, the pale line and missing hair.  The shape of that brow was changed, no longer a gentle arch matching its partner, it now had a distinct angle.  Plus three months of washing my face with crappy soap hadn’t done my complexion any favors.  And I just looked tired.

“What happened to your hair?”  She asked.

I self consciously raised my hand to the bristly hair at the back of my head, suddenly questioning my decision to let Lilly, who’d made it clear that she didn’t think I was going to wait for her, cut it the way she liked it.  I looked up at the mirror again, I knew Lilly had done her best, on top of being radically shorter than the hair I’d had last time Michelle had seen me, it wasn’t even really a very good short haircut since it was done with just clippers while being told not to take too much time repeatedly.

“They had a no hair below the shoulders rule.” I explained, frowning, remembering the long wavy hair I had been pulling back into a ponytail before heading out to work the last time I had looked in that mirror.  “So they cut it.”

“That’s a lot shorter than just above the shoulders?”

“Well, I pissed off the guard who escorted us to get our haircuts.”

“I guess it will grow back,” Michelle said sadly.

I shrugged and looked away from the mirror.  Michelle’s reaction reminded me of how I’d felt about the haircut the first night before I’d gradually gotten used to it and loved that Lilly liked it more than I hated the short hair.  I was confused between still being sad and angry about it, and feeling like this was just me now.

“How did you get the scar?”  Michelle sounded a bit nervous asking.

“Shower accident.”  I stated plainly.

“You’re not going to really tell me?” Michelle responded without directly calling out the lie.  “You used to tell me everything when you had a bad day.”

“I don’t live here anymore Michelle.” I pointed out.  “I can’t just hangout eating ice cream till I’m ready to go to bed.  Besides, today wasn’t a bad day, today is a good one, just also a slightly overwhelming one.”

I felt weirdly suddenly caught somewhere in between the person I had been before jail and the person I’d been in prison, not having had time to figure out who I was going to be after prison yet.  I wasn’t ready to come out as maybe gay to Michelle.  I’d let the hair grow for now while I figured out who the hell I was.  Of course, whoever the hell I was, I needed something more than a waitress uniform to wear.

“Listen, I just need to grab a few changes of clothes and some toiletries.  Did you keep my stuff?” I asked hopefully.

“I put your personal stuff in boxes when the new girl moved in.”  Michelle told me.  “We’ve kind of just been using the furniture though.  Oh, and we ate most of your food, because it was just going to go bad.”

“It’s fine,”  I said, though I’d been looking forward to the pint of mint chip. “Thanks for keeping my stuff.  Can you hang on to most of it a bit longer till I figure out where I’m going to be living.”

“Yeah sure.”  Michelle sounded a bit hurt, but I didn’t know how I was supposed to help that.

*****************************************

I looked up at the mirror, and Lilly’s loving gaze looking down at me.

“Anything you want babe.”  I assured Lilly, closing my eyes, just enjoying her body.  “I’m sure it will be great.  You’ve finally got the proper tools, and no guards rushing you.”

“Now I’m feeling nervous.”  Lilly admitted.  “That’s a lot to expect.  I’m three years out of practice and I was still a student last time I used shears.  Sure you don’t want me to practice first.”

“Honey it’s fine. I’m sorry I put so much preseure on you.”  I smiled at her.  “If it’s not the world’s greatest haircut, my hair is so short anyway it’ll grow out in no time.  You’ve got to practice on someone, might as well be me.”

Lilly briefly hugged me back, then pulled away.  She walked behind me and shook out the new polyester cape that still had creases from how it had been folded.  It was white, I suspect she’d chosen the color mostly because she just wanted it to be as different from the ones at the Abby as possible.  It still smelled slightly plasticy from the bag it had come in, but that was a million times better than what the other capes had smelled like.

She draped it over me, slowly, taking her time in a way she had never had the luxury to before.  As she pulled it up over my shoulder and snapped the collar closed, she used it as an opportunity to rub my shoulders and neck.  Then she finished off with a tender kiss.

“I took so long fussing with the tools, this is getting dry.” Lilly remarked with a chuckle at herself as she ran the comb through my only a little damp shaggy hair.

“I should have waited till you were closer to ready to wash it.”  

“No worries,” she assured me with another gentle rub of my shoulders.  “That’s why I picked up the spray bottle from my sister’s.”

Lilly raised the spray bottle, and rewet my hair.  Her combing through my wet hair felt so different from the way it had back at the Abby’s beauty parlor.  I felt her use the tip of the comb, to start parting my hair and dividing it up.  She was sectioning, another thing she never really could at the Abby, where all she was provided with was a set of clippers and a comb, but no hair clips, barrettes, or ties.

I watched in the mirror as Lilly fussed to make sure the line that dividing the hair on the top of my head from the bottom was exactly how she wanted it.  She kept switching back and forth, first adjusting the right side then the left, then back.  Fastening and unfastening the clips.

“I’m sorry I’m taking so long,” she apologized with a kiss to my forehead.  “I haven’t done this since beauty school.  I must have done hundreds of haircuts at the Abby, but in so many ways, I feel like a complete novice.  Are you sure you don’t want me to practice on a manikin first, I can get a job and save up for one.”

I pulled Lilly’s lovely hand in front of me, causing her to hug around my shoulders, and began to stroke them gently to sooth her.  I looked up into her dark eyes in the mirror.  “You’re fine.  You know what you’re doing, you just need to get your confidence back.  And my head is free and the hair on it will grow back, which can’t be said for manikins.”

“What would I do without you?”  Lilly asked as she rested her cheek against my ear.

“You’d be doing fine, just a bit differently.” I assured her.  “You’re a warrior, and you’d be making plans to get back on your feet with your sister.”

“There’s a huge difference between making plans to get back on my feet,” she pointed out, “and finding someone has set up the dancefloor, bought me a new pair of dancing shoes, and is just asking me what song I would like played.”

“It was nothing.” I said after a few moments of just cuddling, a warm tear started down my cheek.

“Are you going to cry every time I give you a haircut?”  Lilly chuckled.

“Maybe,” I joked as I swiped the tears away.

“It’s not helping convince me that you really want a haircut.”  Lilly teased a bit cautiously.

“It’s tears of joy this time.” I promised her.  “I’m just so happy to have you here with me.  I’m so glad you are happy with the plans I made.  And I really do want a haircut.”

Lilly gave me a little hug, a quick kiss on the cheek and stood up smiling.  She ruffled the damp hair on the back of my head then grabbed a lock.

“Well, in that case.” Lilly gave the lock she was holding a gentle tug. “Let’s get rid of this shaggy mess.  Ok?”

I just smiled and nodded.  Lilly reached for the shears, on the desk in front of me.  She ran the comb down through the hair a couple of times, then combed back up pausing with the comb still in my hair.  I watched in the mirror as Lilly opened the shears, and raised the blades towards the hair resting in the comb.

The blades whispered shhlisss as they sliced through the damp strands.  Then I felt the weight land on my shoulder, it then tumbled down, and I heard it land on the supermarket sale fliers we’d spread on the floor to make the clean up easier.

I sat there as Lilly combed up then sliced off more and more hair.  Listening to the soft sound of the blades carving the hair into the shape Lilly desired reminded me more of the sound I used to hear as I’d gotten my long hair trimmed and layered than of the constant buzz of the clippers Lilly had used to take away those long locks.  Looking in the mirror made plain that this was going to be very short though, just as it had been every other time I gave Lilly free reign.  

Lilly paused the gentle snipping and brushed loose hairs from behind my ear.  I watched her smile down at me in the mirror as she did.  I looked up at her and smiled back.  She bent forward and gave me a kiss.  In prison, it was something we could never do, kissing whenever we felt like it.  Our moments of affection had to be limited to our cell, or hidden in other ways, like holding hands under the table.  It was weird kissing again and again as we had been all day.

Lilly’s hand cradled the back of my damp head as she pulled away from the kiss.  The hard metal handle of the shears she was using to sculpt me back into her vision of me, pressing into my scalp.  She stroked my head a couple of times as she continued to look down at me.

“You are very distracting.”  She observed.

“Sorry.” I responded, but not very contritely, as I smiled back at her.  “Are you too distracted to finish making me a tough girl again?  Am I going to have to wear a hat for my next shift?”

“I’m making you a pretty girl, and don’t worry I will finish well before your next shift.”  Lilly promised.  “Now sit up straight.”

I did as ordered, and looked straight ahead at the mirror.  My reflection was clear and sharp; I remembered how after I left the Abby that had startled me a few times.  It had been so strange after having gotten used to the soft fuzzy reflection that dulled features and softened lines, having never seen the short haired and scarred version of myself clearly.  It must be even more startling for Lilly.  Knowing how much I had changed in my just 3 months there, Lilly must have changed even more during her 3 years.

“I missed seeing your beautiful face so much.”  I said to her reflection, and watched a shy smile spread across it.

“I missed yours too.”  Lilly responded.  “Now let me finish so it isn’t hidden behind all this hair you went and grew since the last time you saw me.”

To demonstrate her point, Lilly released the clip that held the hair up on the top of my head, and damp locks fell over my eyes.  I chuckled.

Lilly swiftly combed the floppy hair smooth. the front hanging down to the tip of my nose.  I felt the points of the scissors poke my forehead just above my eyebrow.  Then there was a soft snip, and the hair began to fall.  I closed my eyes.  Lilly made little snips all the way across my forehead.  When she reached the other side, I opened my eyes, and looked at the short bangs that rested there.

“See how much nicer that line is with point cutting?” Lilly said.

“Yes,” I answered even though with it still wet I wasn’t really seeing how this was better, but I figured I’d just take her word for it.

Lilly combed my hair back off my forehead, then the front of my hair straight up, and trapped it between her fingers.  She then snipped across, matching the hair on the top of my head to the bangs.  Lilly repeated that going a little further back each time, the soft snipping such a contrast to the incessant buzzing of the clippers.  I felt so calm and happy as Lilly reduced the hair on the top of my head,  

I calmly watched as the hair fell away.  Lilly smiled down at me, her pretty hands working the scissors.  She reached the back of my head, and snipped off the last few floppy locks, then rustled the short hair up.  Then she started back at the front again, this time combing the hair outward before snipping it shorter.

After Lilly had repeated the process at several slightly different angles each time the hair falling became more of a dusting than any real volume, she picked up the hairdryer and a small round brush.  As she directed the warm air at my hair, she pulled it up and gave it a slight bend with the brush.

I looked at the mirror as my hair almost stood up when Lilly turned off the dryer.  I turned my head back and forth, it had never done that after my previous haircuts.  She’d definitely been able to get more volume with proper tools and more time.  She didn’t seem to be done though, as she picked up the thinning shears.

Lilly combed my bangs up and slightly to the side it tended to part towards, clamping the short locks between her fingers near the scalp.  She closed the shears with a decisive chomp. Then slid her fingers down the hair slightly and chomped the shears again.  After three chomps, she flicked the comb through the front of my hair, the teeth of the comb emerged full of short strands that had been cut.  

Lilly shook the hair from the comb.  I watch the soft hair rain down towards the paper covered floor, then look up at my reflection.  The bangs suddenly softer and sweeping more to the side.  I smile nervously.

Lilly combed the hair directly behind the hair she had just cut up into her fingers, and repeated the process.  More hair was combed from my head and dumped to the floor.  She kept doing it again and again, repeating the sequence she had to initially cut the hair on the top of my head.  She worked pretty methodically, making sure she closed the sheers on each lock three times.

Watching the clumps of hair shaken to the floor, I started to worry that Lilly might have gotten a little carried away with the thinning shears.  I reminded myself I had assured her it was ok if it wasn’t perfect, but it was hard to not be nervous as I watched.

After she’d thoroughly thinned the top, she combed up the sides of my head. 

Lilly put down the thinning shears, and started just combing through the hair, combing it back away from my face.  As more loose hair fell to my shoulder with each stroke, Lilly began to look a little nervous too.

“I’m really sorry.” Lilly apologized solemnly.  “I went a bit overboard thinning it.  Do you mind if I take it a quarter or maybe half inch shorter?  It will bring some of the fullness back.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” I assured her with what I hope was a convincing smile.  “I meant it when I said whatever you want.”

Lilly picked the regular shears up again, and started combing the hair on top of my head up.  She sliced along the top of the comb, sending down a soft rain of short loose hairs.  It wasn’t much, since she had thinned it out so much.  The idea that my hair was going to be even shorter than my last haircut, was rather daunting though.  I sat there pretending I was happy as Lilly snipped my hair even shorter.

Lilly ran the comb through my hair again, looking a bit more pleased with the result.  She put down the shears and picked up the clippers.

“As glad as I am that they aren’t the only tools at my disposal, the clippers are actually the correct tool sometimes.”  Lilly assured me as she plugged them in.  “Though trimmers would be a bit better.”

I just kept smiling up at Lilly, just wanting to trust her and be supportive.  Lilly turned on the clippers.  She gently pushed slightly on my head till I tilted forward, then I felt the bare vibrating blades on my neck.  I felt Lilly pressing as she carved the hair line as she usually did, then begin to reduce everything below the line she’d carved to stubble.  Part way through though, she paused and looked up at me.  I looked up at her suddenly excited face.

“I always just rounded off hairlines in prison, it’s fast, and you know how the guards just wanted it done fast,” Lilly explained excitedly, “but if you want, I could do a fade!  Which do you want?”

“Do whichever you prefer.  I barely know the difference,” I admitted, “and I have no preference.  It sounds like you could use the practice doing the fade.”

“I don’t want to treat you like a practice manikin.” Lilly said, the earlier excitement fading.

“It’s just hair.” I assured Lilly with a touch of false bravado.  “It grows back.  If it’s not perfect this time, it can be next time.”

“Ok,” Lilly smiled as she picked up the smallest of the plastic guards that had come with the clippers and popped it on over the blades, much smaller than the guard she’d used to cut the hair on the back and sides of my head to a uniform length back at the Abby.  She tilted my head down again, and began to push the machine up past the hairline she’d carved just moments earlier

As Lilly worked I got why she’d never felt she had the time to do it at the Abby’s beauty parlor.  She changed the plastic guards multiple times as she gradually worked up the back of my head, cutting the hair shorter and shorter.  I suspected with practice, she’d become faster and more efficient as she went back and forth between the same 4 guard lengths over and over, but I appreciated the effort so I didn’t mind so much that it was taking forever.  A few times, she even skipped the guards altogether and ran the bare blades over the teeth of the comb or even against my skin.

When Lilly put down the clippers and picked up the thinning shears again, I must have let something slip and shown nervousness that she might be about to go overboard with them again. 

“Don’t worry so,” Lilly’s melodic voice assured me.  “I’m just going to blend out the lines a little, I won’t go over everything three times like I did on top.”

“I’m not worried,” I tried to convince us both as I bowed my head back down slightly.

Lilly began to snip, running the comb up the back of my head, and clicking the shears closed against it rapidly.  I pretended to be relaxed, as I watched the light sprinkling of hair landing on my shoulders.

Lilly finally put down the over used thinning shears, and combed through my hair a couple of times.  She picked up the regular shears, and made a few very tiny snips occasionally as she mostly just combed and ruffled my very short hair looking it over.  Her smile beamed at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but smile back.

“What do you think?” Lilly asked as she carefully undid the cape so she didn’t spill clippings on me.

As Lilly gently shook the hair from the cape onto the sale circulars, I raised my hand to the side of my head.  We were at a whole new level of short.  I could tell it was a better texture though.  The top that had been flat after my last few hair cuts now had volume.  I wasn’t totally sure how much that volume had been achieved by using the thinning shears to create shorter hairs that propped up the longer hairs, and how much that was because all the hair was almost short enough to stand up anyway.  The bristly back and sides were now pure velvet.  It was definitely a much better haircut from a technical point of view than any I had received at the Abby, though it wasn’t the most perfect haircut I had ever seen, the sideburns were a bit too square and there was still a hint of the hairline Lilly had carved before she decided to fade it instead.  It was also shorter than any of my previous haircuts, which I wasn’t thrilled about, but also wasn’t devastated over.

It was comfortable and convenient, I wouldn’t have given up the length I’d grown back for that though.  It made me look a bit tougher, which would be good when I had to deal with anyone making trouble at the motel, that wouldn’t have been worth the sacrifice of the dark brown locks that could have been touching my shoulders again in just another few months either.  I looked at Lilly, and could see the one thing I had really wanted from a haircut had been achieved, Lilly liked it.

“It’s good.” I smiled at her.  

 

———————— Chapter 13 ———————

———————- Queen Sized Bed ——————

I stood by the queen sized bed, feeling shy and unsure.  Lilly and I had shared a bed so many times when we hadn’t been supposed to. At the Abby if we’d been caught in bed together, they’d have split us up and assigned us new cell mates.  Now that there was no reason for us not to, I was scared of it in a way I had never been before.  With the freedom to love Lilly openly, came pressure to live up to the expectations that I would be amazing.  My inexperience weighed heavily on me.

I wore a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, I was way more covered than I had been when I’d laid with Lilly at the Abby.  I had taken to wearing enough clothes to sleep that if the maid came and knocked on my door because she needed me to kick someone out of a room, I could roll out of bed feeling reasonably well covered.  Now, I felt over dressed, but also shy about just taking it off.  I was taking the night off, nobody should be knocking on my door, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t been naked in front of tons of other women every time I’d showered at the Abby.  

Taking off what I usually slept in felt presumptuous though.  Lilly hadn’t discussed if we would be continuing to have a physical relationship.  Heck, it even felt presumptuous to assume we’d be sharing a bed.  I didn’t want Lilly to feel like she owed me sex just because I had picked her up, given her a few presents, and provided her a place to stay.  If we were going to be having sex, I wanted Lilly to want it.

I suddenly understood why Lilly had insisted I needed to have a chance to forget about her.  I understood why she needed to know my feelings were real and not just gratitude for the way she’d cared for and comforted me in prison.

“The settee is a small sleeper sofa,” I informed Lilly so she’d know there were options, so she’d know sleeping with me was a choice not a necessity.  “Do you want to help me fold it out?  I’ll take the sleeper, and you can have the real bed.  They’re both more comfortable than the bunks at the Abby were, so I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to put you out of your own bed.” Lilly assured me.

“I want you to have a real bed tonight.”

“Do you want to share it with me?”  Lilly asked shyly.  “I know you won’t be shivering tonight, but we can share anyway.”

“You don’t have to just because..”

Lilly cut me off, “I want to.”

“You’re sure,” I asked.  “I shouldn’t have just assumed you still wanted to be my girlfriend.”

“I’ve been kissing you all day every chance I get Marty.” Lilly pointed out.  “It doesn’t really count as an assumption with that amount of evidence.”

“I guess we should get into bed then.”  I said nervously, which felt a bit like stalling and a bit like I needed to convince myself.

It was actually nowhere near my usual bedtime.  Since I normally worked overnight from 8 pm to 6 am, I didn’t normally go to sleep till 7 or 8, but I knew it was already past the Abby’s lights out time, so figured Lilly was probably tired.  Since I’d only just barely napped this morning before I’d had to get up to be ontime to pick up Lilly from the Abby, I could probably sleep anyway.

I was still too nervous to actually get naked, but Lilly and I had always slept in panties and undershirts together, so I decided to take off the sweatpants.  I slipped them down, and draped them over the foot of the bed, just incase the maid forgot I was off and there was going to be a knock at the door later.

I pulled the covers back, and got into the bed.  I sat, just sticking my feet under the quilt, not laying down as I waited for Lilly to join me.  Lilly did the same on her side of the bed, when she was sitting, she reached across and gently touched my hand that rested on the halfway point between us.  At the Abby, the narrow bunks had meant sharing a bed involved constant forced contact.  On this queen sized mattress, contact had to be deliberate, it was going to involve reaching out, or scooching closer.  Lilly looked shyly down at my hand.

“Thank you for loaning me something for bed.”  Lilly said, I suspect mostly just to break the tension.  

All of Lilly’s clothing smelled dusty.  Her sister had done her best, but the boxes Lilly’s clothing had been stored in for the three years she’d been at the Abby were far from airtight.  Lilly had hand washed out a few sets of underwear, though she’d had to search for ones that the elastic hadn’t rotted on, and a couple of T-shirts which were now hanging in the bathroom drying, so she’d have clothing tomorrow,  but she had nothing for tonight, so I’d loaned her some of mine.  That night shirt had been one of the first things I’d picked up when I’d gotten out clothes from my old apartment.

“You look cute in it.” I told her smiling, feeling a little less nervous, looking her in the eye.  “Are you comfortable?  Warm enough?”

Lilly just nodded as she came more to the middle of the bed.  I moved in from the edge too, to meet her in the middle.  It was amazing being here with so much room, with light to see her perfect body.  I raised my hand and stroked her cheek.  She put her hand on the back of my head, petting the hair she’d cut to a velvet texture I knew she loved.

Our lips met, starting softly, tenderly.  Our hands slowly explored the skin that our shirts left exposed, our arms, faces, and necks.  It was so different from the way we’d touched each other before, not squished in, not hidden.  We could take our time.

Gradually I felt an urge to start nibbling Lilly’s long neck. She bent her head back, exposing her throat to me as I kissed it.  She breathed heavily with passion, her finger tips gripping the back of my head as I sucked, and kissed, and nibbled.  I started to kiss down her neck till I reached fabric.

“Do you need this?” I asked as I tugged at the hem of the night shirt I’d loaned her.

She leaned back slightly and shook her head no.  I reached down and pulled the shirt up.  Lilly raised her arms as I pulled it up and over her head, exposing her perfect breasts.  I’d touched them before, and I’d seen them before, but never at the same time, never like this.  I bent down and took the left nipple in my mouth, as I pinched the right one with my fingers.  

Lilly moaned and leaned back onto the multiple pillows, taking me with her.  Her hands were up inside my own shirt, pressing into my ribcage.  I gave her nipple a quick kiss and paused sitting up and pulling off my own shirt, then tossing it down to the foot of the bed.

As I bent forward again, and took her right nipple into my mouth, Lilly reached up to my breasts that dangled over her.  As I sucked and teased her nipple, she fondled mine, bringing me to the edge.

When I paused to catch my breath, Lilly took the opportunity to push me down so I found myself laying on my back across the bed with her on top.  Lilly pulled my panties down and dropped them over the side of the bed.  Her face looking down at me was filled with passion.  

Lilly bent down, kissing my belly then kissing my thigh.  Then her lovely face was between my legs.  Lilly and I had only ever fingered each other inside our panties, this was completely new.

I lay there, and closed my eyes as I felt Lilly’s wet tongue on me.  Lilly pressed and licked and sucked as I exploded over and over till I was shaking.

When Lilly finished, she lay next to me and stroked my short brush of hair.  I opened my eyes and looked into hers.  She was beaming with pride at what she’d done to me, I smiled.

After we’d just relaxed and recovered, I wanted to try to make Lilly quake with pleasure too.  I began by attending to her pointy nipples again, with my mouth as I stroked down her body.  When I encountered her panties, I remembered that we no longer were constrained by them.  I paused and pulled the cotton garment off her, enjoying the feel of her thighs and legs as I did.  

I decided to just start by fingering her the way I already knew how to pleasure her.  Without the panties forcing my hand to stay at a particular angle, I was able to place my fingers in her deeper, while I also rubbed my thumb over her her slick with cum clit.  With her first orgasm, Lilly called out joyfully.  She was no longer forced to stifle her expressions and stay silent.  Her joyful exclamations and praise were like music to me as she told me what she liked.  

“Do you want me to?” I asked, nudging my face towards her womanhood, “I’ve never before, do you want to guide me?”

“Yes,” Lilly uttered.

I placed my face between her thighs, and began to taste her.

“Yes! Yess!” she proclaimed.  “Harder! Faster! Now SUCK! YESSS!!!  YESSS!!!!  OH GOD!!!!!”

We lay, fully naked, the sheet just covering us.  We looked at each other.  Our hands explored slowly, not blocked by undershirts and panties we feared to take off, not constrained by a lack of room making things awkward and uncomfortable.  I looked Lilly in the eye, the light of the lamp which we could choose when to turn off and on reflected in her dark irises.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”