A CONSPIRACY

This is an alternate and extended version of a previous story “Linda takes me outside”. Enjoy.

 

Chapter 1 – The First Locks

 

Vacation season — one day too wet, the next too hot. Speaking of hot… During my last visit to Lizzie, she had a birthday surprise waiting for me. I’d barely been in her room for a few minutes when there was a knock at the door and her colleague Linda walked in. She congratulated me, looked at me with those big eyes, and said, “I’m here to cut your hair.”

Frozen in place, a bead of sweat on my forehead, I asked if she was a hairdresser.

“No, but my daughter is.” She gave me a kiss, stepped out of the room and added, “Have fun, you two.”

Lizzie was nearly in tears laughing at the practical joke she’d played on me. Right in line with the haircut fantasy I’d shared with her over my now long hair.

“I hope you’re not sharing our little secret with all your colleagues?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “But Linda’s a close friend — I knew I could trust her.”

Still laughing, we made love.

 

Right now, Lizzie’s away on an extended vacation. Return date? Unknown. The last time I booked a session with someone else, it was a disaster on every level. Since then, I’ve vowed only to see Lizzie. But yeah… when will that be?

The itch started to creep in. Linda seemed like a really lovely woman. But it also felt like cheating — although Lizzie would probably just shrug it off. Another thing — or rather a thing — is that Linda isn’t quite my type. She’s curvy, and I’ve always been drawn to that slim Sixties look.

Still, Linda is very feminine, and from the friendly little moments we’ve shared in passing, she strikes me as a total sweetheart. So… should I?

Time to gather courage. I blasted Orbital’s Satan through my living room speakers:

“…it’s better to regret something you have done, than to regret something you haven’t done.”

And under that motto — and with concrete in my shoes — I made an appointment with Linda.

She greeted me warmly, and I immediately drowned in her big eyes. It was like she hypnotized me — or maybe I was just lightheaded from all the tension.

We joked a bit and kissed. Linda didn’t waste time. She ran her fingers through my hair and brought up the birthday prank.

“I felt like you really didn’t know what to do with yourself when I walked in. I thought Lizzie might actually give you a haircut then and there.”

I told her my fantasy usually served as foreplay, and that over the years Lizzie had only ever snipped a few strands, which already felt like a lot to me.

“She did tease me now and then — asking if she could really cut it, saying I could always go to the hairdresser afterwards if it looked awful. But I never went along with it.”

Linda: “So… it still turns you on — the idea of someone other than a hairdresser cutting your hair? Or is it just a fantasy, always destined to stay that way? Look, Lizzie’s a darling, but I’m not her.”

 

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Our sweet Lizzie is a master at seduction — teasing you, then pulling back just in time. I get why you’re crazy about her. I’m wired a bit differently. I’m the type who slams the gas pedal the moment the light turns green — and I don’t stop at the red. If you gave me the green light, half your hair would already be gone.”

She burst into laughter. “God, just the thought gets me hot.”

Well… she wasn’t alone in that. I listened open-mouthed, feeling my blood pressure rise. I thought of those videos where curvy women give their man or boyfriend a drastic makeover.

Even though I’ve always had a thing for those “French sigh girls” — think Jane Birkin, Françoise Hardy types, size 2 or 4 — those videos thrilled me in ways I couldn’t explain. And now that same feeling was rising again…

 

Linda looked at me with a mischievous sparkle in her big eyes.

“So now you’re warned — if you bring up your hair…”

“So trimming a little off the ends isn’t your style, if I’m hearing you right?”

“Oh, sure — but in Linda-style. First the big chunk, then the ends. Don’t tell me… I actually brought a few of my daughter’s tools today, just in case. Say the word?”

It was now or never. The tension and arousal I felt were beyond words. But so was the fear of what I might look like afterwards.

“On this room’s carpet? That’ll be a mess — and there’s no mirror.”

Linda: “Mirror? Why? The less you see, the more you feel. And for the mess, I’ve got a solution.”

She took my hand and led me to the sliding door that opened onto a small private patio.

 

Just before stepping outside, she paused.

“Just so you know — once you cross this threshold, there’s no going back. The scissors will come out.”

I stayed silent and looked at her. She stepped outside. My hand was still in hers, our arms stretched.

“Do I let go, or are you coming with me?” Fire at my heels.

 

She let go just a little — and I gripped her hand tighter. Slowly, she pulled me over the threshold into the garden. A huge grin lit up her face.

In the middle stood a chair. She placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me gently down. A bit awkwardly, she sat on my lap, facing me, the little bag of tools pressed between our bodies.

I tried to cover my eyes. She pushed my hands down, and let out a deep sigh — followed by one of my own.

She now held large scissors, fingers already gathering my hair on the right side. Snip. She closed the blades and held a big bunch of grey strands in front of my eyes, then slowly let them fall piece by piece onto her cleavage. She repeated the move on the other side.

Then she began massaging the back and top of my head, cutting more in five minutes than Lizzie — or even my hairdresser — had in months.

 

“How am I going to explain this to Lizzie?”

Linda: “I’ll take care of that for you, hehe.”

 

Chapter 2 – What Remains, What Changes

 

The silence that followed the cutting was almost tangible. Tufts of hair lay across our bodies and scattered on the ground — silent witnesses to what had just happened. Linda was still on my lap, her fingers resting on my freshly exposed neck. It felt almost naked, strange… and liberating.

We both smiled. It hadn’t just been a haircut. Something had been broken open. I slowly ran my fingers through what was left. It didn’t feel as short as the intensity of the moment had suggested.

I remembered what Lizzie once said with that mischievous sparkle in her eyes:

“You’re keeping it long on purpose… so I get to cut it, right?”

But she had gone on vacation.

 

And it had been her friend — spontaneous, curious, and just a little wicked — who had grabbed the scissors. First a cautious three-centimeter snip with a giggle, and then, with flushed cheeks and a racing heart, at least ten centimeters falling like memories from the past.

A few minutes later, Lizzie suddenly appeared on the patio. I jumped in shock, but Linda didn’t look surprised at all.

Her eyes lingered on my face, then drifted to my hair — and the floor. She said nothing.

“Well, this is unexpected,” I croaked, trying to smile.

Without a word, Lizzie stepped forward and switched places with Linda. She stretched out her hand and gently stroked my crown. Her fingers moved through the freshly clipped sides, then rested on the longer strands on top and back.

“She did it…” she whispered. “Not me.”

 

I nodded. “I couldn’t resist anymore.”

Lizzie looked at me — not angry, not disappointed. Something else. Something I couldn’t immediately place. Regret? A flicker of jealousy? Or… admiration.

“I would’ve liked to be the one,” she said softly. “But… I understand.”

A silence fell in which only our breath could be heard.

“Was it exciting?” she asked.

 

“More than I expected,” I said. “Not just the cutting. Everything around it. The touches. The trust. The moment.”

She nodded slowly. “And now? Do you think it could get even better? Because if so… then I’m taking the scissors now.”

Linda had stepped aside once Lizzie arrived, but she chimed in once more:

“I don’t think he’s ever had it all off. I really wanted to go all the way, but I knew you were on your way.”

My suspicion was confirmed. The two friends had planned this beforehand — a staged conspiracy. Lizzie had returned a day early, and Linda had told her we had an appointment.

 

“Quite a lot’s already gone…” she whispered, her fingers still on my head.

“But not really short yet,” she added softly.

 

“Can I finish it? Just the last bit? Or would you rather stick with Linda… or maybe both of us? Just know — while Linda loves to hit the gas at green, I’m very much in the mood to run a red light today.”

“You decide, Lizzie. I’m all yours.” I couldn’t help it. I was completely out of my mind.

Lizzie stood up, grabbed a few items from Linda’s bag, and asked me to stand. She sat down herself, pulled me by the hand, and let me sit on her lap — my back against her chest.

“Do you trust me?”

“More than ever,” I replied.

In the same style as Linda — or maybe more intensely… no, definitely more intensely — Lizzie grabbed large chunks of hair and closed the scissors near my scalp. This time it was really short. She was determined and not exactly gentle. A mountain of hair gathered in my lap. Eventually, there were no more long locks left.

 

She continued in a slower rhythm, letting the scissors rest against my skin. Snip, snip…

I saw Linda covering her mouth, watching in awe.

Lizzie reached into the bag again and…

She turned on the clippers. A soft buzz filled the quiet patio. Her free hand rested on my chest, just above my heart. The device touched my skin — a few soft passes just behind the ear, then down my neck. Very precise. Slowly. As if every hair that disappeared peeled away another layer of tension.

 

“I don’t know why this hits me so hard,” I whispered.

“Because I’m touching a place no one else reaches,” Lizzie said. “Not your head… what’s beneath it.”

She continued in silence — each small movement, each soft touch, with complete attention. No rush. No performance. Just presence. And something that didn’t need words.

She handed the clippers to Linda for a moment, who sat on top of us and searched for the little spots Lizzie couldn’t see well. Lizzie did the finishing touches.

When she was done, she turned off the clippers. There was nothing left to do — and that felt like coming home. She rested her hands on my freshly shaved head and whispered:

 

“Now you’re truly mine. Thank you for this gift.”

 

After a long and delicious lovemaking session with both friends, they decided to take even the last few grey millimeters away.