HairApparent
This story serves as a sequel to Amelia Seeks Equality, Part 2 – Engaging the Influencers, and one may enjoy it independently without the need to read the original story.
Prologue
Watching the long-haired students having their locks cut incredibly short on the recent model night had been a fantastic experience. Working with Jilly, a senior tutor in the cosmetology department, had proved successful. I had provided suitable models for her trainee stylists to practise their skills. The models were all students who were influential on campus, and each had incredibly long hair. My “lambs”, as I privately referred to them, were each given a dramatic transformation and left the training salon with remarkably little hair.
The evening had been an immense success and demonstrated that, with determination, I could level the playing field between my own inadequate locks and those who uncaringly flaunted their longer hair.
It became even more apparent over the following week when fewer students with long hair were exerting their influence around the campus. A couple of transformed women thrived on the attention, as I knew they would. I hoped the key influencer from that evening could make her bowlcut become a trend around the campus. Sadly, in contrast, Chloe, with her stunning flattop, took to wearing a beanie even indoors.
Although people around campus were aware of my remarkable success and had remarked upon it, the comments were not always favourable. I sensed there were people who might consider my mission as weird, but I have lived with those misconceptions for nineteen years. Resulting from these developments, together with Jilly causing unexpected issues, I decided to take a temporary step back from my mission.
With Jilly, the power dynamic between us had shifted too quickly and too far, and she had become terribly clingy. Although her fear of the faculty discovering our one night of passion in her apartment was disturbing her, she was still desperate for my approval, and it became extremely irritating.
Disclosure
Jilly began texting me constantly, asking if I was coming to the salon, but, because of her cloying behaviour, I was increasingly reluctant. Occasionally, I popped in at the start of her seminars, getting her to sign off the additional credits for my first-year project, but I would leave after five minutes. Seminars on shampooing, conditioning, and colouring paled into insignificance when compared with the enthusiastic cutting and clippering on the model nights that I had instigated.
At one point, Jilly even expressed her love for me after just one night together! I did not need to spend more time alone with her, as I had got all I wanted from her and achieved all I needed. I was circumspect in my replies, but when I failed to directly acknowledge her persistent and misguided claims, she ramped up the pressure. Late one evening, I found her knocking at my door.
My former flatmate Eve had become similarly infatuated after I had cut her hair short. Consequently, I had decided to move to a smaller apartment and live on my own. It cost a little more than I could ideally afford, but I valued my solitude more than the money.
I had never given Jilly, or anyone else, my new address, so I could only guess that she must have previously followed me home without my knowledge. When she came knocking, it was clear that she had been drinking. With her loud entreaties accompanying the knocking, I had to let her inside to avoid upsetting my new neighbours.
I guided Jilly to my main living space, offering her a coffee. Instead, she threw her arms around me, clumsily pulling me down on the sofa, embarrassing me as her lips kept lunging towards mine. But mercifully, she suddenly froze, and I knew exactly why.
‘Chloe?’ Jilly croaked, confused by what she was seeing.
My eyes followed hers to the TV screen where I had paused a video I had been watching.
‘Yes,’ I confirmed cheerfully. ‘After her haircut on the second model night.’
We both continued staring at the frozen image of Chloe with her scintillating flattop haircut.
‘Is she prettier than me?’ Jilly spat with jealousy, misinterpreting my interest completely.
I contemplated my choices on how to answer her, weighing the consequences of each one. I mentally discarded those that were likely to cause me the most trouble with either the college, or with Jilly, or with my fellow students.
‘Actually no, Jilly,’ I said calmly, sipping the white wine I had poured for myself earlier. It was a lie. Jilly was edgy and had a character that came with age, but Chloe was much younger, and she looked gorgeous with her flattop haircut. ‘I was just reviewing the footage I took on the model night.’
‘Really?’ she asked, looking genuinely baffled. ‘Why?’
I affected a sleazy chuckle. ‘I knew that, lazing here, all on my own, seeing Chloe lose all her hair would turn me on,’ I said honestly, surprising myself that, for once, honesty seemed the best policy and the safest option under the circumstances.
‘What?’ Jilly said at my disclosure, her jaw comically dropping wide open.
‘Yes, I know it is a peculiar characteristic. A fetish if you prefer. But I was just lying back here, enjoying my wine, and fingering myself as I became increasingly aroused,’ I chuckled, delicately licking my fingertips.
‘What?’ Jilly repeated, having temporarily reconfigured her jaw to seek greater clarity of my peculiarity. ‘Aroused?’
‘Exactly so, Jilly,’ I giggled lewdly. ‘I guess, with you working in that salon environment all day, haircutting does not affect you in the same way as it does me,’ I postulated, already knowing that it was unlikely there was anyone else in the world as weird as me. ‘So, this is why I have been quiet recently,’ I fibbed. ‘I am sorry, but I have been trying to find a way to let you down gently… I mean, it is quite clear we are simply not compatible…are we?’
‘No… I mean, yes…’ she gabbled. ‘It does affect me, but I hide it,’ she said incredibly unconvincingly, clearly happy to say anything to keep favour with me.
‘Really?’ I queried, sipping my wine, injecting an eager note in my voice as I tried to sound like I did believe her.
‘Yes! But it would do me no good to get, er… turned on by every client whose hair I cut…’ she paused, frowning as she tried to find a way to support her lie. Then she smiled and her eyes brightened. ‘Yes, it’s actually why I teach hairdressing now rather than practise as a stylist, because of my, er… our affliction –’
I raised an eyebrow in disapproval, not at her obvious lie but at her choice of descriptive noun.
‘No, not affliction, but the, er… the same thing you have,’ she babbled unconvincingly.
It was clever improvisation and almost credible, but I did not believe one word.
‘Ah, you mean blessing,’ I grinned.
She nodded eagerly, snatching my hand and delicately licking my aromatic fingers in a delightfully sensual way. Then she adjusted her position on the sofa and drove her face down between my thighs, her tongue enthusiastically working the same part of my anatomy recently vacated by my roving fingers.
Enjoying the sensation, I lifted the TV remote control and pressed a couple of its buttons while she expertly continued pressing my buttons! Over the next ten minutes, Chloe and my other “lambs” losing their long hair aroused me on screen, while Jilly’s skilful manipulation brought me to a shattering climax on the sofa.
After a couple of minutes, Jilly lasciviously looked up from between my thighs, her glistening lips accentuating her naughty grin. ‘See, Amelia, we make a good team,’ she purred.
By “team”, I knew she meant her and me. However, it was Chloe who had played the greater and most satisfying part of the team I felt part of during that evening, even if only her recorded image were present.
Once Jilly had pleasured me in a surprisingly satisfactory manner, I would have preferred her to have left immediately. However, she showed no sign of going and, in the afterglow of our coupling, we ended up draining the bottle of wine I had been enjoying. Then, although it was against my better judgement, we were both exhausted, so I allowed her to sleep in my bed that night.
Desperation
Although I had slept well, I found it irritating that Jilly was still in my flat in the morning. That said, she had tidied up the living room and kitchen area, and she had even made us breakfast.
My revelation the previous evening concerning my sexual appetites relating to the cutting of hair appeared not to have discouraged her. I had hoped she might have decided it was not for her and slunk away before morning. However, I was confident she would not repeat anything that I had said or share what had taken place. After all, she had continually expressed her fear concerning the faculty discovering our liaison.
‘While you were still sleeping, Amelia, I organised another model night,’ she stated proudly. ‘So, round up some more models, and we can equalise some more interesting subjects to add to your archive,’ she chuckled, attempting a complicit wink but looking as though she had got something in her eye.
With that clumsily worded statement, she had confirmed that she had no idea of my motivation. It was not surprising, as I doubted anyone understood the necessity for achieving equality in the sphere of hair and the associated gratification it would give me. Her motivation was undoubtedly to keep me happy so we could discretely remain a couple. Laudable and understandable from her side with me being so young and attractive but, sadly for her, I was completely out of her league.
‘Thank you so much, Jilly,’ I acknowledged. ‘Send me the details, and I’ll do my best to round up some worthy models.’
‘Of course, my love,’ she said, kissing me full on the lips, before departing.
I poured myself another cup of the delicious coffee she had prepared and contemplated the best way to proceed with the situation. Jilly’s clinging nature and her desire to impress had become increasingly tiresome.
Jilly had already served her purpose towards achieving my mission, but a business asset is only useful if it still serves a function. Once it becomes a liability, then one must simply, without emotion, just let it go.
Devastation
‘You could have let me know about the lack of models before this evening,’ Jilly pouted, lounging in one of her styling chairs in the college salon, looking exasperated after a long day.
‘Sorry, Jilly,’ I said, although I was not sorry at all. I had not sought any “lambs” for the model night she had arranged after she had turned up drunk at my flat one evening. Furthermore, I had deliberately arrived late for the event. As I entered the training salon, I saw young women leaving with remarkably polite and boring hairstyles. If I had been on time, then the evening would have been as exciting as watching paint dry!
‘We barely had enough models to go around this evening,’ she moaned.
‘Sorry, Jilly, but one of my course tutors gave me an unexpected assignment,’ I lied, ‘and that had to take precedence. I had no spare time to find any new models for this evening. You do understand, I hope?’
‘Of course I do, my love. But still…’ she sighed. ‘Anyway, we’re all tidied away here, so why don’t we go out and grab supper?’
‘A lovely thought, Jilly, but now that I am in our glorious bastion of haircutting,’ I smiled coyly, ‘I have a desperate itch that I need to urgently scratch.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said haughtily, but then, when I added a lascivious smile, she caught my drift. ‘Oh, yes, I see. Well, if your “itch” is so desperately in need of attention, then you better drop the latch on the door to make sure no one disturbs us.’
I did as Jilly suggested before marching over to the styling chair where she was slumped, spinning her to face the mirror.
‘Do you know, Jilly, your “tiger” hairstyle is looking terribly tired and patchy, with the black overtaking those stunning orange highlights. And the striking buzzed side is blending in far too much with the longer side. There is no definition at all, and that characteristic edginess of yours is missing.’
I knew that accusation would be enough to gain the fashionable tutor’s attention. Provocatively, I ran my fingers through the longer side of her asymmetric haircut, and she moaned with pleasure, squirming in the chair.
‘There has been no time for caring for myself, not after looking after my students and organising your extra model nights,’ she snapped judgementally, firmly directing her criticism at me. ‘And there is so much else I must do that goes with being a senior faculty member. On top of that, there is all the stress associated with us…’
Despite her complaints, she wriggled excitedly around in the chair, lapping up my less-than-subtle manipulation. To add to the illusion, I lifted the scruffy longer side of her hair and lightly kissed her exposed neck. She whimpered, partly from frustrated desire and partly, I sensed, from the stress of our liaison that the college would frown upon.
‘Look, Amelia, I can’t do all this any more,’ she suddenly blurted out, sobbing, leaning forward and pulling away from me. ‘The models… that is, the students… their parents are complaining about their appearance. The department head is asking why we are giving the women such drastic and unfeminine haircuts. I am, to put it bluntly, scared!’
‘You are right, Jilly,’ I cooed, patting her comfortingly. ‘It has all been a great deal of stress for you. I wonder if you might need to take time out to freshen up?’
‘Yes, for sure, my love, but—’ she began, although she did not finish her original sentence. ‘Amelia! What are you doing?’
Destruction
I had reached for the heavy-duty clippers resting on the hook by the mirror. I flicked the switch. The hum filled the room, a low, predatory growl. ‘We can make a start by refreshing your hair, Jilly. Your asymmetric style is edgy, but the buzzed side is looking so, er… well, so boringly conventional.’
It was the right choice of word to get a reaction out of the fashionable senior tutor. Even in her thirties, Jilly still held a strong belief that her hairstyle – one that may have been fashionable fifteen years earlier – was sufficient to make her look edgy.
She released a tired laugh, but I could tell her heart was not fully in it. ‘Well, we can’t have that, can we, Amelia,’ she sighed, ‘as I’ve always steered clear of convention.’
I took her words as an invitation to do what I proposed. With my heart drumming a staccato rhythm and a warmth emanating deep down in my core, I placed the unguarded hairclippers in front of her ear. And then I eased the vibrating blade upwards. I had seen the device used before, even from quite close, but I had never used it myself. It was a delicious sensation to watch the pale smooth skin appear as the blade shaved away the snippets. Jilly relaxed, clearly enjoying my attention, closing her eyes, and moaning with pleasure.
Slowly, savouring every moment, I worked the blade around her ear, down to the hairline, and up the side of her head. All too soon, I had restored her asymmetrical haircut and produced a surprisingly stylish finish. Jilly embraced my attention with her chest rising and lowering more quickly, her face flushed.
‘Nice,’ she purred, although I was unsure whether she was expressing enjoyment at my touch or giving a verdict on her restored haircut. But it did not matter, as something more obtuse suddenly hit me.
As I had stepped back to assess my work, I had observed that the two sides of her haircut were not equal. As it was an asymmetrical style, that was hardly surprising. But what I had previously failed to grasp was that Jilly’s hair was intrinsically uneven, unbalanced, and unequal.
While people may consider that I was weird and that my stance was an overreaction, all I saw was the ultimate crime of inequality.
Deliverance
Having finally seen Jilly’s hair length was unequal, I could not unsee it!
‘I’ll have to engage your services as my full-time hairdresser, my love,’ Jilly quipped, as I pondered how to manage the developing situation.
I disguised a low chuckle as a mischievous thought took hold. ‘Careful what you wish for, Jilly,’ I whispered.
‘What was that, my love?’ Jilly murmured, still relaxed, but I ignored her.
As my delicious idea took hold, a jolt of arousal accompanied the warmth of arousal emanating through my core. I moved the hairclippers to her buzzed neck, at the line separating the buzzed area from the longer hair. And then I eased the blade upwards.
My instant gratification came from the heavenly sight of Jill’s long strands of yellow and black hair tumbling down her back. And then seeing the previously buzzed area growing ever larger.
‘There is one style we haven’t practised yet,’ I stated, a wide, predatory grin spreading across my face.
As I thrust the clippers up the back of her head once more, Jilly’s eyes suddenly snapped open in panic. I was unsure whether it was a result of my assertion or because she judged that the hairclippers were veering away from the path they usually followed to maintain her edgy hairstyle.
‘Amelia!’ Jilly gasped, trying to stand. ‘What are you doing?’
I pushed her back into the chair, my hand pressed firmly on her shoulder. ‘As well as the unequal nature of your own haircut, you have also been hiding behind all these assorted colours, Jilly. The tiger stripes, the violet… it is just another form of unequal vanity. If you want to help advance our quest towards true equality, you must embody the ultimate example,’ I grinned.
‘Look, what you are doing is not funny, Amelia… just stop it,’ she whimpered. ‘This is nothing about equality or any of that nonsense –’
‘Nonsense? I questioned, my voice a menacing low rumble that caused Jilly to freeze.
No, it was not funny, and I was not laughing. However, my arousal was peaking. The sight of Jilly’s smooth pale skin, revealed by the unguarded clippers traversing her skull, was massively turning me on.
In that moment, I acknowledged that my core mission may have temporarily shifted, usurped by my bodily desires. However, Jilly’s condescension regarding my mission aggrieved me; her belief that my quest for equality was nonsense had upset me.
In the past, I had thought I had clearly explained to her that far too many women had always been able to grow their hair longer than mine. Levelling up was a necessity and certainly not nonsense. Between us, with the model nights, we had done well at reducing the number of women with long hair around the campus. But now, it seemed, she was no longer fully on board with my essential mission. There was even a hint that she might consider me a little weird.
As I pondered on where I had gone wrong with Jilly, her multi-hued hairstyle continued tumbling away, leaving a thick carpet of orange and black over her body and at my feet. Frozen in the chair, Jilly’s breath hitched in her throat as she watched, horrified by her own changing reflection. In long, rhythmic sweeps, I harvested every tuft of hair on her head, eventually revealing her entire scalp in all its glory – pale, vulnerable, and completely bare.
I switched off the hairclippers and dropped them on the shelf by the mirror, then scanned the length of the counter. My eyes soon alighted on what I was seeking, and I grinned naughtily.
Taking the aerosol can and giving it an enthusiastic shake, I squirted copious quantities of shaving foam into my palm and smeared it over Jilly’s bare scalp. Then, taking a razor I had found in a drawer, I began scraping away the lather along with the remnants of her fuzz. When I had finished, Jilly sat there, completely bald, her eyes huge. Her scalp shone brightly as I polished it to a deep and satisfying gleam with an aromatic oil and a soft cloth.
‘There we are, Jilly. I hope you now appreciate the sense of what I preach, given that you are now fully equalised.’ I giggled, planting a light kiss on her bare scalp. ‘Without your asymmetric hair, you’re levelled up and even more fashionably edgy… but in a quite different way.’
I gathered my things together and made my way over to the door. ‘Now, Jilly, I don’t want to hear you telling me you can’t go on doing this anymore.’ Is that clear?’
‘Yes, my love,’ she whimpered, ‘but –’
‘If our arrangement is to cease,’ I cautioned, wagging a finger for effect, ‘then I will decide when that occurs. Is that clear?’
She spun angrily in the chair to face me. I could tell she was about to let rip, but, authoritatively, I held up my hand to silence her. It worked.
‘If you think otherwise, then you should be aware of something. It relates to when you came to my flat and, er, serviced my bodily needs while I watched Chloe’s transformation on screen. You may recall that I resumed the playback once you had settled comfortably between my thighs?’
She nodded, blushing.
‘Quite by chance,’ I gave a dry chuckle, ‘the remote control also activated the webcam on top of my TV, and it recorded our entire encounter on the sofa. The upshot is that I have a complete recording of you enjoying the close company of one of the college’s impressionable young students.’
Jilly’s jaw dropped open.
‘But I will be careful not to allow that video to accidentally fall into the hands of the head of the faculty,’ I said, smiling sweetly. ‘Although it does make excellent viewing if you would like a copy?’
I waited, but she did not answer. I shrugged and then, with a sense of profound satisfaction, I gave her a casual wave before slipping through the door and making my way home.
As I strolled across the campus, I passed so many students whose long hair rippled down their backs in that carefree and flaunting manner I had witnessed so often. Not only did I just observe individuals, but I also saw a bountiful harvest waiting to happen. My growing obsession had taken hold, and, with or without Jilly’s assistance, I did not envisage stopping any time soon.
Epilogue
It had been enjoyable, as well as necessary, to shave Jilly’s head completely bald. The asymmetry had been an anachronism; the smoothness represented equality. It had also been essential to make my position unambiguous regarding the model nights in the training salon. But after the smoothing of Jilly’s scalp, our fractured relationship splintered further when I revealed that I had incontrovertible evidence of our liaison.
Jilly and I never spent any more time together on our own as she was unwilling to risk any disclosure to the head of her faculty. Furthermore, she would only speak to me when strictly necessary. Naturally, I insisted she arrange more model nights to satisfy my desires. Unfortunately, the events that took place were often stilted affairs with few of the drastic transformations taking place that I preferred.
Sadly, Jilly did not maintain her baldness, choosing to grow out her hair and colour it uniformly. Her style was an inverted bob, a style cut higher at the back than the front. To my eyes, that deliberately flouted the equality I sought. If I had the inclination to spend time with Jilly alone, then I would have taken the clippers to it and levelled it up.
Disappointingly, I was no longer able to recruit “lambs” of the same calibre as the initial model nights. It was frustrating as my desire remained strong and my recruitment technique had become more refined. Unfortunately, I suspected that word had got around concerning the severity of the styles we gave, and prospective candidates gave me a wide berth.
Eventually, I terminated my involvement with the model nights. However, it had demonstrated that I could rectify the inequality on the campus with a sufficiently bold strategy. But I accepted it was only the beginning as far too many women on campus still had hair longer than mine that was weighing them down.
Having completed my pilot project with Jilly, I decided to become more ambitious. Initially, I would focus on my college coursework to gain a distinction for my first-year project. I would use that as a springboard for a prestigious local company to offer me a lucrative internship during the summer months.
And, once settled, I could embrace different opportunities for accelerating my essential mission to see equality.
To be continued
A Note from the Author
Further to sharing my stories here, on the Hair Story Network, they are also collected on my personal archive, along with additional exclusive and early release material, at The Hair Apparent Stories, where, naturally, I do not patr(e)onise my readers by demanding payment, and my stories may be freely viewed without the need for registration or login.
Traditionally, I have always relied on my own imagination and that of my readers to visualise my stories. On my own site I have included an image to serve as a “book cover” for each story, providing a pictorial introduction to the characters and scenes portrayed in the text that follows.
