Cover To Cover

Note:

Cover to Cover, or CTC, is a project where I write one page from a fictitious novel, short story, or nonfiction book. The idea behind it is that there are many, many stories with scenes of hair cutting in them, and I want to replicate the good fortune of reading a book and finding a hair cutting scene in it. These stories are my own creation. The cut off and out of context format is deliberate and meant to simulate reading chapters of books. 

Warning: This story contains strong language and sexual themes. 

Book: Springing Green

Page: 127

had always been that way for the residents of the county. Pierce was a town that had rarely ever changed since its founding. Well, now it had changed, Clarissa thought. Automobiles, advanced farming, and suffrage for women had already made waves throughout the town, and the whole county, to say nothing of the new fashions from New York City. 

Clarissa and Vanessa had finally arrived at the barbershop, where they already found at least half a dozen other women and girls. Philip, the proprietor of the shop, was in the process of carefully trimming the ends of a woman’s bob. By the looks of it, the woman’s hair had been extremely long, as the pile of shorn locks on the floor betrayed. Vanessa instinctively grabbed her sister’s hand for support as they entered the barbershop. 

“I’ll be with the ladies in a bit!” Philip called over his shoulder, looking harassed as he busily trimmed his client’s remaining hair to the appropriate shape. 

The sisters sat on an open space of the waiting bench. Not a single man or boy could be found, apart from Philip, who had flipped the striped white cape off the woman in the chair. She promptly stood up, fingered the ends of her new bob, and paid the barber. Clarissa eyed the discarded hair on the floor before her eyes fell on an even larger pile off to the side. It seemed that Philip had had little time to sweep up and dispose of the hair between cuts. 

Client after client took their seats in the barbers chair as Philip continued his craft. Feet of shiny, thick hair fell victim to the scissors and succumbed to the inevitable shearing. Mounds of hair gathered as first a daughter and her mother were both shorn, and then three friends of around the same age. The daughter’s thick brown braid, which dangled on the floor when she was perched in the chair, was casually snipped off and thrown onto the floor without a care. 

Each customer enjoyed their newfound freedom as Philip quickly worked through the whole lot. Finally, after what seemed like days, Clarissa and Vanessa were next. After Philip called “Next!” Vanessa surprisingly stood up and immediately sat in the chair. Even though she had been more nervous than her sister, Vanessa seemed determined to get it over with, and she promptly pulled her hair out of its bun and demanded that Philip cut it all off. Philip obliged, slicing into her magnificent hair with grim resolve. Cascades of hair fell to the linoleum floor, gathering as the hair of countless other clients had done. Clarissa watched with rapt attention as the hair formed soft piles on the floor. Vanessa was now bobbed, and Clarissa soon met the same fate. 

They paid and left just as Philip, finally catching a break, swept the hair into one massive pile and collapsed into a waiting chair. The whole ordeal had been exhausting if

Book: Sailors: Accounts of Women in the US Navy

Page: 58

the hallway. On the other side, a row of female recruits stood at attention, all facing the direction of the open door. Inside, three barbers were busily snipping away at the long locks of the female recruits, giving them regulation hairstyles for the duration of their training. No other branch of the US military required women to cut their hair to a specified length, although private military academies did, as well as the Army Ranger training program. 

As each recruit entered the room, a petty officer would direct them to a free chair. Female applicants to the enlisted training facility had been asked to keep their hair long, so as to speed up the process of cutting to a desired length. When a recruit sat in the barbers chair, the stylist (so called because they worked with women’s hair) would throw a plain red cape over them and immediately get to work. After a spritz with the spray bottle to we the hair, the stylist would normally begin to cut at a line right below the jaw. Most recruits had hair past their shoulders, and a few in the line outside had hair somewhere around their waist or longer. 

The hair was snipped all the way around the head. The hair fell into soft piles at the stylist’s feet. After achieving the desired length, stray hairs were cut and the recruit was dusted off. Not intended to win any styling awards, the navy bob, or the plebe chop as it was known at the Naval Academy, was meant to give the recruit maximum efficiency in the field by reducing washing and styling time. In truth, the bob was difficult to pin up and got in the face of the recruits. 

Recruits farther along in their training, sporting a slightly longer version of the bob, would be on hand to sweep up the enormous piles of shorn hair. Every color imaginable, from black to platinum blond, was represented in the mountains of tresses swept off to the side. The recruits stared ahead resolutely as they parted with their long locks. There was no emotion displayed in the barbershop, at least not by recruits or stylists. As soon as a recruit was shorn, they would be uncapped and ushered away by another petty officer. The line would keep moving all day, at least until the last female recruit had 

Book: Growing Up Greek

Page: 82

not every single day, but pretty fucking close. As if that wasn’t bad enough, my mother would march me and my sisters down to the neighborhood barbershop at the beginning of every summer. It was the worst, and I hated going there so much when I was a kid. Lena and Anna didn’t mind it so much, as they were horrible at taking care of their hair anyway. But the older I got, the more tired of my mom’s shit I became, and I resisted a haircut whenever I could. 

Greek hair is thick, like so fucking thick our ancestors would make rope for fishing ships out of it. And it grew like a weed. My mom had a hell of a time doing her own, which reached her knees when I was young. My own hair grew about 3 inches a month, which is a fucking lot, by the way. Apparently it had something to do with genetics or some shit. Anyway, between each haircut at the beginning of summer,  my hair would grow to my waist, sometimes longer. 

On this occasion, my 14th summer as it turned out, my mom was adamant that I get it cut. I had somehow managed to avoid getting my hair chopped off last summer, but this time I couldn’t escape. Lena, 12, and Anna, 10, followed me and my mom like little ducklings as we approached the barbershop. I could hear the buzzing sound of clippers from here. Holy shit, I was not looking forward to this, but I knew that it had to happen. 

My mom opened the door and ushered us into the shop. The barbers were all Greek (big fucking suprise), Manuel and Alexis, two middle aged men in white barbers coats. They were busy trimming the hair of other middle aged Greek men. 

It was literally the same shit that I had gone through for so many years. Living in Chicago, the summers got pretty hot, so I guess short hair in the summer was better for keeping cool. My mom sat us on the waiting bench as we waited our turn. Within a few minutes, both barbers had finished their customers, who paid and pissed off out of there in a hurry.

“Konstantina!” my mother nearly shouted. I knew the drill. I got up and sat down in Manuel’s chair. I flipped my long, heavy hair over the back of the chair so it hung down almost to that pedal at the bottom. Manuel threw the striped cape on my and began to cut. He knew what my mother wanted to her daughter. Feet of thick dark hair fell to the floor as I glumly resigned myself to my fate. Pretty soon, I had a blunt bob to my shoulders, just like every other fucking summer. I didn’t even bother to look down at the pile of my hair on the floor. Within 20 minutes, Lena and Anna were shorn to. Their hair wasn’t quite as long as mine, but it still made a mountain of hair for Manuel to sweep up. 

We left the shop after paying and me throwing a forlorn look at my hair on the floor, as I

Book: The Secret Caress

Page: 154

grasped the scissors in one hand as he ran his hands stiffly through Angeline’s long black locks. Her hair had always been long and thick since her childhood, always brushed and cared for by Merelda. Those raven tresses were the envy of every young man in New Orleans, especially when most women wore shoulder length, layered styles. Theo had been fortunate enough to have intimate experience with Angeline and her gorgeous hair. But now, she had finally asked him to cut it all off. 

Theo entered the bedroom holding the scissors and immediately his eyes were drawn to Angeline. She lay on the sumptuous bed, wearing nothing but a silk robe and a tentative, sensual smile. After asking many him many times, Theo had finally relented and agreed to cut her hair for her. As Angeline reclined on the soft bed, her gorgeous black hair fanned out around her, covering her in a blanket silkier than her negligee. 

“I want you to cut my hair,” Angeline said softly. Theo’s member rose to attention just at those few words. He had never realized before then what a profound impact her hair held in his desires. After months of stroking his member with her knee length hair and swishing it around him, Theo now wanted desperately to chop it off. 

Theo knelt behind his love and stroked her shoulder with one finger. Angeline closed her eyes and said: “Do it for me, Theo. Cut it short.”

With that, Theo held a four foot lock of hair and snipped it around chin level. He gazed at the lock in amazement before tossing it onto the bed. He slid the thin straps of her negligee off Angeline’s shoulders and grasped another long lock of hair before cutting it off swiftly. Angeline slipped a hand under her skimpy robe and began to pleasure herself. She moaned softly at first, then loudly as Theo sliced more sections of hair. The pile of raven locks grew into an obsidian monolith laid on hits side. Theo felt waves of heat going through his body as he neared the halfway point of the cut. 

Unable to overcome his emotions, Theo threw down the scissors, grabbed Angeline by the shoulders, and began to make love to her. The lovers were entwined for an eternity, rolling around amidst  the shorn hair on the bed. Angeline gasped in ecstasy: “I love you, Theo. I want to be with you forever.”

“You are the love of my life.” Theo moaned in reply. After they had settled down, Theo took the scissors and continued the cutting. The result was a short bob, ideal for her to go to the hairdressers and get a Hepburn cut. The obsidian monolith of hair had become a carpet on the bed, silky and thick and discarded like torn paper. Angeline happily ran

Book: O Little Town Of Edgerley

Page: 79

all the rage in school. Of course, now it was summer, but that didn’t stop the girls from talking to each other about absolutely everything. Gillian still couldn’t believe that Beth, the sweet princess with luscious brown hair to her thighs, wanted to get a short pixie of all hairstyles! The other mothers in the book club were perplexed, but all their daughters wanted the same cut. Anna, who was black, had said that her daughter had already gotten the chop at a black barber and that she loved it. 

With a feeling of heaviness, Gillian dutifully packed her kids in the minivan and drove them to the barbershop. Ordinarily, Gillian would never have taken Beth anywhere near a barbershop, nor would Beth have gone. But with the Ruby Rose cut the most fashionable thing among the 15 year old girls of Edgerley, the long hair had to go. Beth seemed so gung ho about it that Gillian had first suspected it as a lame joke. But even as the family marched into the barbershop, Beth still seemed in good spirits, despite her hair having a giant target on it. 

Robbie and Matt were used to being taken by their father to get haircuts at the barbershop, so they knew the drill when Stephen the barber called “Next!” Both brothers were diligently shorn by Stephen, their thick brown hair falling heavily onto the tiled floor. After Matt stepped down from the chair, Stephen looked expectantly at Gillian for word on the next customer. Gillian took a deep breath, and said: “Beth would like her hair cut.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow, but beyond that he didn’t seem fazed. Perhaps he had already sheared several teenage girls today, for all Gillian knew. Beth happily stepped up to barbers chair and allowed the striped cape to be thrown around her. Beth explained the desired cut to Stephen, who nodded and proceeded to section off the crown and let the rest of the hair loose. Gillian couldn’t believe it when Stephen switched on his clippers and began to buzz Beth’s hair to the scalp. Beth just laughed as her hair came off in great waves which crashed against the floor. 

Gillian realized that her daughter was very different from herself. Gillian never would have have the courage to go for such an extreme look in her younger years, but Beth beamed as Stephen shaved the hair under the crown to almost nothing. Mountains of hair formed under the chair. Gillian tried to concentrate on something else, but her eyes kept going back to the boy cut being done on Beth. After what seemed like only a few minutes, Stephen chopped off the top section with a swipe of his scissors and trimmed it down to a layered look. The cut was done. 

Beth was uncaped and she ran her hands over her new haircut. Gillian admired the look 

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