Bedtime Stories

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I sat in our Marriage Counselor’s office. This was my second visit. And I was scared.

At this time, Joe and I had been married for about 5 years. I felt some of the spark of romance had gone out. I wanted to make sure the spark didn’t go completely out. So I nagged Joe enough to accompany me to see a marriage counselor, Helene.

We had had 1 joint visit and then Helene asked to see us each separately. Joe’s second visit was before mine. That’s one reason I was so scared. What had he told her that he may not have told me? Was I making stuff up in my mind and then blowing it all out of proportion? Or was something actually missing?

Helene sat down and we talked about where Joe and I were as a couple and where she thought things were going. She asked a lot of questions. Questions that at times didn’t seem relevant to our marriage.

What is the first thing you look at in a man. What attributes does a man need for you to notice him. That kind of question. And she asked a lot of them.

I did most of the talking. Finally, it was Helene’s turn to speak.

“Jess, first of all I can tell you that Joe is still head over heels in love with you. There is no other woman, no wandering eye.” I beathed a huge sigh of relief. It WAS all in my mind.

“Before I get the two of you back in here together, I think there is one thing you should know about and it will remain between the two of us girls. Forever.” Uh Oh, I thought. Here it comes.

“I think Joe has a fetish.” “A what?” I asked. “I think he has a fetish. And it’s about hair.”

My mind reeled. Joe needed counseling, he had to get whatever this was out of his mind. I immediately went into overdrive on how to combat whatever this hair fetish thing was.

Helene could tell what I was doing mentally, she smiled and continued. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing that needs counseling or therapy. I’ll give you a few links so you can look it up. But basically, it’s harmless and quite a few people have it. Mostly men, but a lot of women too.” “So I don’t need to be scared he’s going crazy or something?”

“No, he never actually said anything to me. But some of his responses to questions, similar to what I asked you, elicited something that makes me think he probably doesn’t even realize he has this thing for hair.”

We talked for quite a while. Helene said this was strictly between me and her. Joe would never know from her that we had talked.

“Is there anything I can do? Should I ignore it or what?”

“You might try one thing. It won’t require you to do anything except make up stories and then when you’re feeling intimate together you tell him a story. Include something about hair and see if that has a reaction from him. If it does then try it again and so on. If there is no discernible response, then just give it up and try something else.”

OK, I thought. I have never been one to talk when we were intimate. I talk all the time outside our bedroom, but not so much in it. I could try it and see where this might go.

Our next visit with Helene was the next week and it was the two of us, together.

“Guys, I am so glad you came in early enough in your marriage and before there may have been real damage. First of all, it is so nice to meet two people who really do love each other and are sensitive enough to your partner’s needs that you came to see me.”

“I’ll keep this short and sweet. You landed in something of a rut. That’s why you’re feeling a little stale on the romance side. You two just need to spice things up every once in a while. Recognize and stay out of ruts and go home and have a great time.” Whew, I thought, the romance spark just needed a breath of fresh air.

Joe and I looked at each other, smiled and could not get home fast enough and see what we could do to stoke the fire.

I have always had a sensitivity to physical things. I don’t need an X-ray to know whether a bone is broken or not. I can feel it. People and animals never sneak up on me. I know they’re there. So what I had been feeling about our relationship was real but certainly not as bad as I had thought and feared. I was overly sensitive.

About a week after we came home from Helene’s office I tried to come up with a good enough story that might spark Joe’s libido.

I had also done the research using the links provided by Helene. I was just hoping it was hair on someone’s head and not in some other weird place that would be what I needed.

We had just put our two kids down for the evening. Relaxing on the couch. Joe reached over and we held hands while watching TV.

He began stroking my hair. I took it as a sign. “Why don’t we go to bed and maybe all of this hair can get spread around the pillow instead of being wasted here on the couch.” Bingo. Joe immediately perked up.

My first attempt at a bedtime story was really lame. I’m certainly no Aesop or one of the Brothers Grimm. I needed to work on it.

However, it turned out to be the first of my version of 1001 Arabian nights of stories. I made up all kinds of stories and Joe’s interest was usually turned up. I could tell when it was a good story and when it was lame. Lame was winning big time in those early attempts. But at least it was getting an “A” for effort from Joe. Some of those stories perked me right up too.

Another five or so years went by. Lots of stories, usually about my long hair.

My hair has always been long. A light dishwater blonde, and down past the small of my back, and it is thick. No wave, but very thick. I am sort of petite at 5’4” and 112 pounds. Pretty small, even after having two children.

Joe and I are realtors and we have done very well. Joe handles the business side of things and I am the setup person. I stage the sellers properties in anticipation of what the buyers are interested in seeing.

Over the years I have gone back to my passion in life. Horses. When we are not actively engaged with a client, you can usually find me in a barn or arena.

There is enough free time for me to enjoy riding and a little training of our 4 horses. One for each of us. Joe found us a nice property when the kids were small and we moved right in. It has taught the kids how to be more responsible, while giving them a lifetime of enjoyment.

One day I was in the barn, and I could feel Joe coming up behind me. I didn’t turn around. Joe tugged at my ponytail, something he has done thousands of times, and I turned to face him. While kissing, I suddenly said, “What would you ever do if I cut my ponytail off?” I was joking. I would never cut it off.

Joe suddenly picked me up and laid me down on a hay bale and ripped my clothes off. It was a wild afternoon. “Where did that come from?” I asked. Joe just mumbled that my comment about cutting my ponytail off triggered something inside him and he couldn’t stop himself.

Wow. No story required. Just a comment about cutting my hair.

I had new information for my bed time stories.

About a week later we were in bed. I decided to try a new story.

While lying side by side I gathered my hair and tickled Joe in the face with it. “What would happen if I could never do this again?” Then I made it into a small whip and lashed him with it. “Or this?” Of course, it didn’t hurt him at all. Joe’s response spoke volumes even if he didn’t say a word.

He became a man of steel and became bigger and harder than I could ever remember. It was a great night.

Another time I used my ponytail as my Avatar and pretended I was plugging into him. That was another good time and became the source of many more bedtime stories.

But I didn’t want to become a tease either. These stories were basically harmless, but by saying I was perhaps going to cut my ponytail off I had now entered an area where I felt I had to either come to fruition with my teases, or immediately turn away from teasing Joe.

I made a decision.

I went to see my regular stylist, Liz. I say regular but I see her only every 8 to 10 weeks. We had been friends since school. I told her I was thinking of cutting my hair shorter. We discussed it at length, no pun intended.

Liz told me my face, ears, hair and physical attributes were all well suited to any hair length I wanted to try. At this point I told her to just take the normal one inch off.

I went home and it was story time again. I told Joe he better like me if I had short hair. He went Superman on me again.

This whole thing with cutting my hair was really getting a positive response. One I never in my wildest imaginings expected. I had always thought Joe liked long hair. At one point he must have, because mine is very long.

But was I ready to change my style? A style that I had had since early childhood.

These stories about me cutting my hair went on for quite a while. At first they were harmless and they were getting the response both of us wanted.

But over time the novelty was wearing thin. The excitement factor was dimming. Joe knew I was not going to cut it and I was having a difficult time coming up with new stories.

I went to see Liz again. We talked.

What is it about hair stylists that you feel that you have to tell them everything? Like they are marriage counselors or priests or doctors? They cut hair. But Liz tells me she hears it all.

So I told her everything.

She gave me a knowing look. “You’re gonna cut your hair aren’t you?” My jaw dropped. I had no intention of cutting it. At least not consciously. But the more Liz and I talked the more it dawned on me. I had teased Joe for a long time.

At first it was just talking about hair. Just as Helene had suggested. Then, over time, I had morphed my stories into me doing something more drastic to it. Like cutting it. And with each new and shorter haired me in the story, Joe got more and more excited. Actually, I did too to tell the truth.

It was time to fish or cut bait. I decided I needed to fish and see what might happen.

“You know, I think I am. But how short and what do you recommend?”

“I’m thinking no more than just brushing your shoulders.” I sat there stunned. I’d be losing at least two feet of hair. This was way shorter than I ever thought. About the shortest I had ever made up a story about.

Liz said, “Think about it, and let me know for our next visit.”

I really didn’t need to think about it. “Nope, let’s do this now.” “Jess, are you sure? We’re talking about two feet of hair here. Make sure this is what you want.”

“I’m sure. Let’s do it, and make sure we save it.”

Having quickly shampooed me and combed my hair out; Liz rather quickly turned me from a very long haired lady into a much shorter haired one. I think she wanted to get it over with before I started to cry. I didn’t cry but this was a drastic change.

I drove home. Fingering the remnants of my hair. It felt lighter and as I turned my head the hair whipped across my face for the first time in my life. An exciting new experience for me.

Now what would Joe’s response be?

The kids came home from school and stopped short on seeing the new me. Mike’s response was typical, “I like it Mom.” He went up to do some homework. Heather’s was more feminine. “Mom, you look about 10 years younger. Not that you were old looking, but your hair really was hiding a lot of you. This is a better look for you.” I thanked her and she went upstairs as well.

Now for Joe. But that would have to wait. He called to say he had some last minute items to fix before we had a closing tomorrow. He’d be about an hour late.

I went out to the barn.

After an hour in the barn, I heard footsteps. There was no more ponytail for Joe to tug. I turned to see how he’d react.

He verified that it was indeed me in the barn. Then a huge smile erupted on his face. He picked me up and laid me on another hay bale. Not a word was spoken but the intimacy was indescribable. I was in heaven. Joe obviously was too. Thank God the kids were busy doing homework. I hope.

This level of excitement went on for a long time. I kept up with my bedtime stories but now they included a lot more detail on me getting my hair cut. Joe’s responses were phenomenal.

During one of my trims, Liz suddenly used some clips and held up some of the hair in back. Then, scaring me to death, she picked up her clippers and inserted them along my neck and clipped the hairs in back. I had no idea she was going to do this and also no idea how high up she clipped.

“I thought Joe might like this. And you too.”

“But shouldn’t we have talked about it first?” “One, I really didn’t change the overall style. It’s about the same length we’ve been cutting it. Two, nobody will see this and let’s see how Joe and you like it.”

OK, I drove home. As Liz said, nobody noticed anything. That night Joe mentioned he thought my hair was a little shorter. He looked like he was getting excited. “Why don’t you see what else might be different this time?”

His eyes lit up and he began exploring. It took all of two seconds for him to find the buzzed hairs on my neck. Oh wow. A night to remember. And these nights to remember began coming on in droves.

At breakfast he came up behind me. Over the years I had become used to him tugging my ponytail and turning me around to kiss me. Not this time.

One, there was no more ponytail. And two, he nuzzled my neck with a new found curiosity. His tongue explored the buzzed hairs. He was getting turned on again.

Lots more bedtime stories were created and enjoyed.

One thing that happens to a lot of men over 35 is the effects of hair loss. Joe was experiencing it but it wasn’t bad.

One night in bed I was messing with his hair and without even thinking I said. “This needs to go.”

What did I just say? Joe looked at me and a crooked smile played across his face.

“What did you say and what do you want to do about it?” I knew he heard me alright. Now I had to decide what to do about it.

On impulse I said, “Joe, let’s just get rid of your hair.” Then with a lot more vigor I said, “I want to feel you smooth as a cue ball up there.” OMG, just saying those words and I was getting all pumped up.

I pulled Joe closer and we rolled around the bed for an hour. We were completely spent. I had never imagined Joe shaved smooth. What had come over me I had no idea. At least Joe didn’t throw me out of the bed.

Instead, the next day he came home with a package and went right to our room.

After dinner we watched TV as a family. One by one the kids went to their rooms. I told Joe I was going to check on the horses and I’d be back in a bit.

After finishing with the horses I went inside, turned off the lights and went to our bedroom.

Joe was standing there and the package he had come home with was displayed. He held electric clippers in his hand and stood there with a big grin on his face.

“I think you were right last night. It’s time to come clean.”

I hesitated for one second then grabbed the clippers and plugged them in. Joe had a stool in the bathroom all setup and ready. “Are you sure Joe?” Joe was already pumped up. He could feel my excitement building as well. “Jess, if you don’t start right now I’m going to kill you.”

I quickly denuded his scalp. Then, grabbing shaving cream and a razor that Joe had thoughtfully laid out, I carefully removed every hair on his head. I had never been so excited in my life. And I could tell Joe felt the same way.

I thought I must have developed a hair fetish too.

We quickly made it to our bed and the next hour was ecstasy. I never thought feeling Joe’s bald head would be such a turn on. I gushed like a schoolgirl.

The next morning the kids noticed Joe’s new look immediately. Luckily, it was positive from both of them. The Mr Clean look was universally approved.

Shaving Joe became a part of our morning ritual. Together in the shower, I carefully took care of Joe. Top and lower down as well. More spark to our togetherness. A great new way to start our day.

We had obviously used Helene’s advice to ensure we stayed away from ruts.

After a year of my shoulder length cut, Liz and I talked more. Now Liz became part of my transformation. She suggested going shorter. I readily agreed.

She cut my hair into a mid-ear length bob and angled the back to be quite a bit shorter. It met with Joe’s approval. Flames were starting to erupt between us. I now knew for a fact that whatever fetish Joe had was making its way toward me. I was certainly getting as turned on as he was and my stories were getting more involved.

They were getting rave reviews by Joe as well.

Another six or so months went by. Mike was about to graduate from High School and summer was fast approaching.

I grabbed my phone and went out to the barn to do some work before meeting a new client about how we ought to stage their house for sale.

Once in the barn the phone rang and I realized Joe must have taken mine. It was an easy mistake. Our phones were identical except for their case. Joe mistakenly took mine instead of his. I answered and told whoever that I would relay the message to Joe.

Before I turned it off I noticed Joe had been looking at something on his phone. He had Pinterest up and on the screen were several women with the shortest hair I could imagine. He had obviously been looking at these women.

Was he fantasizing about them? Their haircuts? Me with those haircuts?

I decided I needed to create some more bedtime stories. I used the pictures from Pinterest as my source material.

Me getting my hair cut shorter and shorter.

As I told Joe these stories it was more than obvious what he thought. I could barely stay in the bed he was bucking so hard.

I went back to Liz. Of course I told her pretty much everything. “I wonder what I should do.”

“Well, I think you going shorter would be a good thing Jess. You know I love cutting your hair. You look great with it short and going shorter might be a good thing for you both.”

“Just how short were you thinking?” “Four or maybe five inches on top and very short on the sides and back.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. Half of me was as crazed as Joe by my hair transformation. I know I became a crazed fool every morning while shaving him.

“OK, let’s do it.”

That’s all Liz needed. Returning from the shampoo area she sat me down, caped me and quickly combed out what I had until then thought was my short hair. Now it was going to get even shorter.

She quickly began cutting away and five and six inch pieces began falling around my shoulders and to the floor. Then the electric clippers came out.

I knew these were going to be used. She had used them on my neck for quite a while now, and I liked their feel. Now they had a guide on them and the guide looked very small. She started in front of my right ear and quickly pushed them up. Leaving little in their wake.

Liz kept moving behind my ear and towards the back. Going even higher in the back before making her way to the left side.

I had never imagined my hair being this short.

Of course I had made up a lot of stories about this happening. But not in real life. Now fantasy was a reality.

I turned my head from side to side still not believing what had happened. Then Liz started on the top.

Long pieces of hair rained down. She put her scissors down and grabbed a jar of some kind of hair paste. Rubbing it in, she then picked up a brush and began to get my hair to stand up. It was not a uniform look at all and not one I was hoping to leave with.

Liz had no intention of letting me go yet.

She picked up her clippers again and told me not to move.

Using a comb to lift my hair, Liz carefully guided the clippers over her comb leaving it all the same length. After several passes she decided it was done. She put down her clippers and stood back. My hair on top was now maybe five inches long. It tried to stand up straight but failed. It was too heavy, so Liz just kind of brushed it back.

It looked fantastic. Not a manly cut at all. Just my thick dirty blonde hair that she got to stand up a little and then rounded off nicely to match the sides and back.

“Liz, this looks great. I never in my wildest imagination thought of doing this.”

“Really Jess? Never? After all those bedtime stories you’ve told Joe, I think at some point you thought of this.”

I squirmed around in her chair. Truthfully, she was right and it always got the response from Joe that I wanted. From me as well.

Now to get home and see what Joe thought.

Lucky for me, the kids were out and about somewhere. Mike was off at college, and Heather was at a friend’s house. She called to say she would find dinner out someplace. Perfect.

Joe’s car came home and as he walked in I turned and said, “Surprise!”

Not a word was spoken. Joe picked me, I was getting used to that when he got really excited, and took me to our bedroom. His hands explored my close cut sides and back. His fingers got a little paste on them from feeling the top hairs. But he was enjoying himself.

I was too.

After almost a year of this style I was getting a little tired of the maintenance. It was really time consuming.

I remembered Joe’s phone and by now I had figured out what else he was looking at on Pinterest. There were a lot of ladies with very short haircuts. Shorter than mine.

I kept up the bedtime stories though. And the response from Joe was great. My stories included me getting one of those extreme haircuts. But in my mind it was all fantasy.

However, I noticed it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my hair this way. Joe noticed it too. I was spending a lot of time in the bathroom getting my hair ready. This was far from a wash and wear style. Even though it was short. Liz kept it in the same basic style for months.

But the maintenance of this style was killing me. I told Joe I needed to make another appointment with Liz. He just sat there with a look on his face.

“What are you thinking, Joe? I thought you liked this haircut on me. Wait a minute, you don’t like it do you?”

My mind was going into my typical “It’s all my fault. I did something wrong.” Mode.

“Jess, calm down. I think you look fantastic. It is a great haircut on you and you make it look beautiful.” “Then why the look on your face?”

“Just don’t do anything. Forget Liz. I have an idea.” But he refused to tell me what his idea was.

A few days later Joe said we ought to go shopping downtown. I agreed, we needed a few things and I slipped into our bathroom to get ready. That took almost a half hour.

Once done, we hopped into our truck and Joe took us downtown.

He parked away from where I thought we ought to be for shopping. He took me by the hand and we walked past a few stores until we came to one I had been to a few times with Mike, but Joe had come here all the time. At least until I shaved his head.

Star Elite Barbershop it said on the window. I looked at Joe. He certainly didn’t need anything done. I had taken care of that this morning. Realization dawned on me.

“Joe, you can’t be serious! You want me to get my hair cut in a barbershop?”

“Jess, these guys know how to cut it the way I want.” “And what’s that?” “You’ll see.”

And we went inside.

The smells of a barbershop are unique. It had been a long time since I had been here with Mike as a little boy getting his hair cuts.

The barbers all remembered Joe of course and then me even though the last time I had been here I had hair down to my waist.

Tom, the head barber stood up from his chair. “Sit on down Joe.” “Not me Tom. This time it’s for Jess.”

Tom got a look of surprise and then gestured for me to sit. I looked once more at Joe. He raised his hand and rubbed it across his shiny, smooth scalp. A move that always got me excited, and he knew it. It was clear what he meant. That look and the rubbing of his hand over his bald head meant “What’s good for the goose.”

I sat. The barber chair is easily twice the size of the chair at Liz’s place. When Tom caped me, the cape looked like something a matador would use. And that’s how Tom flourished it.

Picking out a tissue that he placed around my neck, Tom asked. “So what are we doing today?” A very normal request. But I had no idea.

Joe had obviously been thinking this one through. “Tom, Jess has been getting her hair cut shorter and shorter. I think it looks great but the ladies don’t style these short cuts as well as you. We’re thinking a flattop is the best cut to get.”

A what? Did Joe just say “We’re thinking?” and “flattop” all as if I had agreed to it?

Why, yes he had.

I stared at Joe. Imploring him to rethink me getting a flattop. He seemed adamant. I looked around. The men in the shop were looking at me. Waiting for me to say or do something.

Time seemed to stand still. I sat there contemplating what this would mean and how I could or should react.

If I stormed out it would have a lot of bad implications. Our business was built on relationships. Most of the men in the shop today were all people we knew. From business or social events.

Storming out could hurt those relationships. But then I had to think, what would I look like when Tom finished?

Honestly, the style I currently had could be called a ladies version of a flattop. So it wouldn’t be that much of a change. At least that is what I hoped. And the responses I had received from friends on it was almost universally positive.

Now, just what kind of flattop did Joe have in mind?

Time started again.

I began. “Tom, Joe’s right, it’s getting hard to keep this style. So we’re thinking you’d know how to cut it best.” I played along as if I had been in this decision making process from the beginning. After all those bedtime stories I had made up, it was easy to go along on this storyline.

Tom looked from me to Joe. Shrugged his shoulders and said, “How short?”

Joe answered, “I think the usual flattop is good. Really short on the sides and back.”

“You want a landing strip?” I thought, “A what?”

Joe stepped in again on my behalf. OK, it was really his fantasy coming on now and I just sat there. “Will that keep the shape longer?” “Yeah, probably a week longer.” “Then cut it with the landing strip.”

All of this had been going on without any interaction from me.

I remembered the night I told Joe we were shaving his head. Even though he seemed to enjoy it, it was all my idea and he went along with it. Now the tables had been reversed.

Also, all of my bedtime stories of the past few months came back to haunt me. I know I had made up quite a few about me getting a flattop. It certainly got the desired effect from Joe.

Now, we were no longer in our bedroom. There was no story. We were in a barbershop, and I was actually in the chair.

Tom looked at me once again. I nodded to give him the go ahead.

Tom wasted no time. He grabbed his clippers. Put whatever cutter head he thought was right on them and turned them on. He began in front of my right ear and pushed them up. Higher than Liz had ever gone.

The one thing about a barber shop is there are usually no mirrors where the client can see themselves getting a haircut. You’re turned away from them and facing the waiting seats. You have no idea what’s going on until the barber turns you around.

And so it was with me.

Tom quickly and expertly moved the clippers up my head, moving back with each pass. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. Liz had done this many times over the past months. But when Liz cut it, I could see what was happening. Now I couldn’t.

But I could see the effects. My hair was falling onto the cape and down to the floor. And there was a lot of it. More than I expected given how short it was already.

And I could see Joe. He looked like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. His grin spoke volumes. I knew this would be the ultimate evening once we got home. In fact, just thinking about that got me excited too. With a lot of difficulty, I began to control myself.

Tom finished with his clippers and put them back on their hook.

Then he surprised me. He turned the chair so I was facing the mirror.

I turned my head from side to side. The sides were unbelievably short. They seemed almost shaved. So I knew the back was the same.

As I said, my sense of touch is very sensitive. I have read about athletes that say when the big events happen, time slows down. A batter sees the seams of the ball become a red dot that is the sign of a slider. He can tell the pitch and where it’s going. He smacks it 400 feet. A hockey player stands in front of the crease. The puck flutters his way and he knows just where to put his stick and redirects the puck into the net.

That’s the way I suddenly felt.

Tom picked up a pair of scissors and began with the hair on top. It had a lot of paste and hairspray in it from my machinations at home.

Tom didn’t seem to care. He put his fingers in and it seemed his scissors slowly cut the five or six inches down to three. I could feel every hair being cut off. Hair just seemed to float onto the cape. My eyes were wide watching events happening to me. My half hour of effort to create the look I had before walking into the barbershop were erased in seconds. But those seconds seemed like a long time to me.

I glanced again at Joe in the mirror. The grin was even bigger, if that was possible.

Tom kept slicing away, getting my hair down to a manageable length. When he finished he picked up a stiff brush and attacked my hair gain.

“You have a lot of product in there Jess. So that’ll help get it to stand up for me. Now, this next stage is critical. You cannot move or it won’t be level. I need you to look straight ahead. You ready?”

I looked at myself with hair sticking up like an unruly little boy. “Yep, let’s do it.” I was laser focused on my image in the mirror.

Tom picked up his clippers and I watched him switch them on. Again, I could sense everything. When he grabbed a large comb and placed it just above my forehead I could feel every hair slide into the teeth. Two inches of hair stood above the teeth.

This time I noticed his clippers said Oster on them. Using his clippers he appeared to slowly glide the clippers across the teeth of the comb. Two inches of my hair was gone, but it seemed in slow motion. My hair slowly fell on my nose and then down to the cape. I was hyper aware of my hair being reduced to just an inch at the front and even shorter as it went to my crown.

He did this again and again from front to back. He repeated this process several times. I know it took just seconds, but it seemed to take a long time. Time where I was becoming increasingly excited about my transformation.

Towards the end I could feel his comb directly on my scalp on the crown of my head.

Then he attacked my sides making sure there was a vertical wall of hair going up to the flat plane above.

Satisfied he had it about right he put his comb down and then came back with just his brush and clippers. Ensuring my hair was standing up straight he cut miniscule pieces that had eluded his first passes.

Time resumed its normal speed.

When he was done, the clippers went silent. He reached for some wax in a jar. He rubbed it into my hair and then using his brush again he got my hair to stand fully erect.

I looked at myself again.

Wow. This was a transformation even better than my bedtime stories. I had thought that Liz had cut my hair into some semblance of a flattop. And that’s what I had been telling myself for months. That’s how I got the inspiration for my bedtime stories.

Not even close. A real flattop is short and there is no need to imagine that it is a flattop. The name speaks for itself. And now I had one.

Turning my head from side to side I could see the walls Tom had created. I bent my head down a little and the meaning of their discussion about a landing strip was evident.

I could see the darker dirty blonde hairs on the sides of the top. But in the middle, there was almost nothing. It seemed almost bald. Just a landing strip. It was aptly named.

Tom picked up a mirror and showed me the end result. The back was shorn as short as the sides had been. He was obviously waiting on my verdict.

I looked again at Joe. He was also wondering if he had gone too far. But I could also see my hair wasn’t the only thing that was fully erect.

He needn’t have worried. I liked it. It was definitely extreme, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.

I smiled at Tom and said, “Tom, this is just what we were looking for. Thanks.” I could tell he breathed a sigh of relief as well. I have no idea how many flattops he cut. But I was sure very few, if any, ever went to ladies. Joe’s face spoke for itself.

Tom removed the tissue and just pushed the cape down a bit. I was ready to get up. But Tom rotated the chair back to its regular position and I could hear a whirring sound behind me. Wondering what this was all about I suddenly felt a warm foam being put on my neck, then around my ears. He was finishing me up the way he would man. I was getting a shave.

Tom quickly scraped away any tiny hairs on my neck and above my ears. I got goosebumps from the sensation of the razor on my skin.

My hair was too light colored and too short to leave any points that might have been sideburns. Those were shaved away. He completed the look with a dusting of talc powder.

“Jess, if you want to keep this look, you ought to be back in here every three or four weeks. Also, do you need any wax to get it to stand up? That stuff you came in with isn’t strong enough.”

I figured I might need the wax. We bought a jar and it went into my bag. Even if I only kept this look for a short while, it needed to look good while I had it.

We paid Tom and exited back onto the street. I wasn’t so sure about my new look though. What would people think? I was looking at myself in every window we passed. I liked it, but I was afraid of what friends would say.

I could tell Joe wanted to get home as fast as possible. There was exactly one thing on his mind.

I on the other hand needed to test the waters on the reaction my flattop would receive from the public.

I dragged him into a bar. I could sure use a drink and I wanted to gauge the reaction I would get.

I needn’t have worried. We recognized our waitress and she told me she thought I rocked the look. Then as we sipped our beer a neighbor came up behind me and patted me on the shoulder.

I turned and saw one of our best friends, Beth. “Jess, you look incredible. Just when I think you can’t get any shorter, you do. I can’t believe I’m saying this. This is really a good look on you.”

So far so good. I know some people would disapprove. But right now the people who know me were giving their approval. That would continue over the next few weeks.

We soon left the bar to engage in what this was all about in the first place. We were no sooner in the door than Joe picked me up again and took me to our bedroom. As you can imagine, it was out of this world and we didn’t come up for air for hours. No story necessary.

My physical sensitivity went into high gear. Joe’s hands were all over me, especially my flattop. He couldn’t control himself and I couldn’t control my hands all over his smooth head either. It was the best feeling ever.

After we finished I looked in the mirror, no wax necessary. It was so short that, even with all our actions over the afternoon, barely a hair was out of place.

It was the first of many times over the next several weeks. There seemed no end in sight for our lust. And my stories now were true accounts of what I was thinking and feeling when Tom cut my hair.

It was magic for both of us.

A month later, I decided to indulge myself again at Star Elite Barbershop. This time without Joe. Tom gave me a touchup. Joe noticed immediately.

I think I may have to get more wax.

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