“So you…want me to cut my hair?”
“Well no, I want to cut your hair.”
“Don’t be cute.” Sammie had been dating Tavo for six months, after meeting him at her friend Carly’s salon. He was the new stylist there, his chair positioned next to Carly’s, and because he’d just started, his schedule wasn’t full that day. He sat in the chair at his station and joked with Carly and and asked Sammie genuine questions about herself that made her feel like she was being seen, truly seen, by the attractive stylist, rather than just lusted after for her curvy frame and long, raven locks. As she was leaving, Tavo offered to walk her up to the front desk since Carly’s next client was already waiting, and he wrote something quickly on the back of a salon appointment card and slid it over to her. It was his number. She texted him that evening, they met up for drinks the following weekend, and it had been hot and heavy since.
Dating a stylist had its advantages. Every Sunday, Tavo would wash Sammie’s hair for her, allowing her to luxuriate in the feel of his hands massaging her scalp through her thick hair. Then, he would give her a perfect blow-out, which she usually thanked him for with a perfect blow job. He had also styled her hair a few times before they’d go out, and when her sister got married last month, he offered to do the whole bridal party’s hair as his wedding present. But Tavo had never taken his shears to Sammie’s hair. He’d never even mentioned it.
But then Sammie had brought home “The Lover’s Deck,” a stack of playing cards that had, instead of clubs, spades, hearts, and diamonds, intimate questions and prompts you could use with your partner. They were in love, and had started talking about moving in together, so Sammie thought an activity that would get them better acquainted with each other’s desires and proclivities could insulate them both from any unwelcome bedroom surprises once they were cohabitating. Lounging in comfortable clothes in front of the fireplace in Sammie’s house, an open bottle of wine and a well-packed bong both within reach, the game had been going well. They were learning about each other, testing boundaries. Sammie disclosed that the most public place she’d ever had sex was in the pillow section of a department store just before closing time. Tavo shared that he didn’t lose his virginity until he was nineteen. Sammie liked using toys in the bedroom. Tavo enjoyed spanking his partners (with their consent, of course).
All was well and good until Sammie drew the card reading: “What’s a frequent fantasy you have about me?”
“Do we get to pass in this game?” Tavo asked.
“Sure, if you want to be a party pooper.”
“It’s just that I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“I can’t control your fantasies. Go ahead.”
“Don’t be mad.”
“Cross my heart,” Sammie promised, tracing an “x” shape over her heart.
Tavo was silent.
“What? Is it that kinky that you think it will scare me off?”
“No, compared to some of the other things we’ve talked about it’s pretty vanilla. I still don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Tavo sighed. “Fine. When I fantasize about you, you usually…have short hair. That I’ve cut.”
“So you…want me to cut my hair?”
“Well no, I want to cut your hair.”
“Don’t be cute.”
Tavo looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I told you, I wanted to pass.”
“I thought you loved my hair?” Sammie inquired.
“You have beautiful hair.”
“You haven’t ever wondered how a straight guy with a master’s degree in English lit wound up as a hair stylist?”
“Not especially, no,” Sammie confessed, although perhaps in hindsight she should have wondered.
“I love women’s hair. Brushing it and styling it and playing with it. But more than anything, I love cutting it. I guess you could call it a fetish.”
“So you’re always turned on when you’re working with your clients?”
“Not really. At least not to the point where I’d do anything remotely unprofessional. If you were my client instead of Carly’s, I never would have asked you out. I just keep some of the haircuts in my memory bank for later use.”
“So if you spend all day cutting other women’s hair, shouldn’t you be satisfied? Why do you want to cut mine?”
“Because I love you,” Tavo explained. “And it’s exciting to me, the idea that instead of relegating you to my memory bank, I can have you after.”
“But then after you cut my hair off, you won’t have it to play with anymore. How do I know you won’t lose interest?”
“You’d be surprised at all the ways we can play with your hair, no matter its length.”
“What do I tell Carly?” Sammie asked. She’d been seeing her stylist for years.
“That your hair stylist boyfriend wanted to take a crack at your hair? She’ll understand. You know her wife used to be a client of one of her colleagues, too. And if you hate what I do, you can always go back to her to fix it.”
“What if there’s not much left to fix? She can’t reattach my hair once you cut it all off.”
“I don’t want to cut it all off,” Tavo responded.
“I don’t like where you’re putting that emphasis,” Sammie said, raising an eyebrow.
“Let me try putting it another way. I think you’d look fucking hot with short hair. I get excited about being the one to give you that haircut, but I understand if cutting it short all at once is scary. So, I’d be excited to give you any sort of haircut at all.”
“So if I told you you could cut an inch…” Sammie trailed off.
Tavo smiled widely. “I will make sure to show you how grateful I am.”
“Okay,” Sammie said, pulling her waist-length hair over her shoulder and examining its ends. “I guess an inch won’t make much difference.”
“Well then let’s get you shampooed.”
Instead of running a bath for the two of them like he normally would when he washed Sammie’s hair, Tavo set up a makeshift hair-washing station in his lover’s kitchen and called her into the room. “If you were a client, this is when I’d drape you with a towel to protect your clothes,” he said, unzipping the sweatshirt Sammie was wearing, “but if you aren’t wearing any clothes, there’s nothing to protect.” He eased her sweatshirt off her shoulders, then the tank top she wore beneath it over her head. He loosened the drawstring on her joggers and slid them over her hips. Bra and panties followed, and within a few seconds Sammie was standing in her kitchen wearing nothing.
“What about you?” she asked Tavo, stepping forward and working her hands under his shirt. Soon enough, he was also fully nude.
Tavo guided Sammie toward the sink and helped her to drop her hair into the bowl as she sat on the barstool he had set in place. Then he switched the water on, and once it was warm, he began to wet his partner’s hair until it was saturated. Once he was satisfied her hair was fully soaked through, he began to shampoo it, lovingly massaging her scalp, with frequent pauses to kiss her on the mouth or neck. While Tavo worked, Sammie would occasionally raise a hand to him, letting her fingers trace down the line of his torso and tease his cock, which was growing harder by the second. Still, Tavo did not lose his focus on Sammie’s hair, through which he was now combing conditioner. Finally, a thorough rinse and Sammie’s hair was ready for Tavo’s shears. He grabbed a towel he had set nearby and wrapped Sammie’s hair in it as he eased her into a standing position, then released the towel. Heavy with water, Sammie’s hair spilled heavily down her back and came to a rest at the top of her buttocks. Tavo decided he would keep her standing while he worked.
“Thank you for this,” he said huskily into Sammie’s ear, wrapping an arm around her sternum and kissing her in that spot right behind her ear that he knew drove her wild. Then, Tavo grabbed his comb and a few clips and began to section Sammie’s hair so that only the bottom layer of her hair hung loose. He ran his comb through it a few more times, pushing water through it and to the ground, and then on his last pass, Tavo stopped a careful inch above the ends of Sammie’s hair. He placed his shears, holding them in such a way that Sammie could feel the cold steel on her lower back. It send a shiver down her spine. Tavo closed the blades.
An inch-long lock of hair landed heavily on the floor. “That sounded like a lot of hair,” Sammie said.
“Just an inch.” Tavo bent down and picked up the severed lock, holding it where she could see. “Promise.” He repositioned his blades in Sammie’s hair and against her skin, then closed them again. Each snip was tantalizingly slow. A few severed pieces of hair landed on Sammie’s pert bottom rather than the floor, giving Tavo the chance to gently blow on his lover’s back or run a hand across her buttocks, each time raising goosebumps up her back and down her legs.
The first layer of hair done, Tavo let down the next layer and repeated the process, careful not to cut any more of Sammie’s hair than he had promised. He knew how important it was that their relationship remain in a place of trust.
Tavo stood close to Sammie as he cut, the warmth of her body pulsating through the cold dampness of her hair. Whenever he had the chance, he’d stroke a finger down Sammie’s neck or back, ostensibly to better position her hair for the next cut but hey both knew better. Even though he took his time, soon he had finished the last layers that remained. “Thank you, he muttered breathily into Sammie’s ear as he set his shears down.
Then Tavo walked in front of Sammie and took her by both hands. As she reached for him she could see goosebumps up and down her arms, and she knew it wasn’t just from the cold, still-wet hair that now clung to her back. She could see how hard he was, but he said he’d show her his gratitude, so she chose to ignore Tavo’s cock as he walked backward out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom, where Sammie had a full-length mirror. “See?” he asked, stepping aside so she could see her reflection. “Just an inch. Nothing more. You can hardly tell.”
“Yeah, but my hair always looks longer while it’s still wet.”
“Okay fine,” Tavo conceded. “I’ll dry your hair. But later, okay? I believe I owe you something first?”
Sammie let out a delighted little squeal as Tavo picked her up and spun her around, setting her down with her back on the bed and both feet on the ground, her firm ass hanging just beyond the edge of the mattress. Then he knelt, throwing Sammie’s legs over his shoulders, and began to kiss her inner thighs all the way up to her mound. When he sensed she was ready, Tavo plunged his tongue into her slit, then licked and kissed and sucked and nibbled until Sammie was writhing in pleasure. Moments later, he pulled his mouth away and stood to reposition himself. Sammie angled her pelvis up toward her lover, who entered her deeply, hungrily. Tavo had not cut the hair of a woman he was dating since cosmetology school, and he’d forgotten how powerfully intense his lovemaking was after. Thrust after passionate thrust, he pictured the sensation of slicing through Sammie’s thick, black hair with his shears. He had cut only an inch, but what an inch it was. Even if Sammie never let him cut her hair again, he wouldn’t soon forget tonight.
Later, atop Sammie’s rumpled bed, the two couples lay with their limbs entangled with each other’s. Sammie’s hair was mostly dry, betraying the natural waves that were usually blown straight, and Tavo stroked it gently as she snuggled into his chest. “That was amazing,” Sammie said, half to herself and half to her partner.
Tavo chucked. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.”
“And was it…all because I let you cut an inch of my hair?”
“Partly because you let me cut it, yes. But I think also partly because you trusted me with something so intimate.”
The pair fell into a comfortable, sex-drunk silence until Sammie broke it again. “Tavo, how fast does hair grow?”
“For most people, it’s about half an inch per month. So in two months, maybe less, that inch I cut off should have completely grown back. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“That’s not why I’m asking.”
Tavo propped himself up on his elbow and studied Sammie. “Oh?”
Sammie propped herself up, too, and looked directly into Tavo’s eyes. “Tonight was…it really was incredible. I want to do it again, but I’m not ready for short hair. Definitely not now, all of a sudden.”
“I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want.”
“I know, and I love you so much for that. But like I said, I also want to do it again.”
“So what are you proposing?”
“What if we did this once a month?”
“If we do this once a month, I’ll still be cutting your hair faster than it can grow.”
“I know,” Sammie said. “That’s kind of the point. I’m not ready for short hair now, but I suppose I can be kind of…eased into the idea? So if you cut my hair an inch once every month, that means after a year, I’ll have lost about six inches in length. That would get me to…about here,” she said gesturing to her waist. “That’s a noticeable difference all in one go, but if it’s done gradually over time, I don’t know that I’ll really think that much of it.”
Tavo looked at Sammie as her words sunk in. He would have loved to hack away at six inches of Sammie’s hair all in one go—more, if she’d let him—but something about this slow buildup, the guaranteed haircuts, even if only an inch at a time, was exciting to him. “And then what happens after a year?”
“Nothing. I’m not saying we’ll only do this for a year. So I suppose, instead, we can just keep going until one of us says it’s short enough. And we can figure out what to do then.” Sammie paused, trying to read Tavo’s expression. She wasn’t promising him she’d become the short-haired lover of his dreams. But then again, maybe someday. “You in?” she finally asked him.
To be continued…