Exes Reunited

(Hi everyone, I hope you like this second installment of this story! If you missed the first part, check it out at my author page or click here: https://www.hairstorynetwork.com/stories/exes/. I do think it’ll work as a standalone if you don’t feel like reading the first part.)

 

PART TWO — Reunited

He was the same Theo, somewhere underneath the beard and the longer hair and the faint lines that had formed at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He had filled out a bit, his youthful lankiness transformed into the body of a man firmly in his thirties. He was no longer rocking a band tee and cuffed jeans that had been his uniform in college, but instead a well fitting pair of vintage Levis and a brown chore jacket. Simple, but put together. His leather boots and Shinola watch spoke of a quiet, rugged luxury. His hands looked bigger than she remembered, and rougher. Man’s hands. Marianne wondered what’d they’d feel like against her curves, or entangled in her long brown hair that had grown thick and lush to her thighs.

She suppressed a shudder thinking of it as she took a sip of her mint tea. He’d suggested the cafe, and while she was usually a coffee drinker, it was approaching evening and she didn’t need more caffeine. Seeing him again was adrenaline enough. “So how was work today?” She asked as she met his eyes. So familiar.

“I guess you could say my mind was elsewhere,” he laughed. “I still can’t believe it’s you. It was like seeing a ghost or something, seeing you on the train.”

“I was distracted all day at work too,” she smiled. “What is it you’re doing for work these days?”

“I work in tech—real original around here, I know. I’m a CFO for a startup that’s doing pretty well. Pretty flexible schedule and I often work from home, but I had to go into the office today to meet with some new hires. What about you?”

“I’m teaching graphic design classes at the college,” she said.

“That’s cool,” he said sincerely. “I always loved your art. I still have one of the prints you made for me back in the day. The pencil drawing of me. I have it up in a gallery wall in my living room.”

“Aww, that’s sweet of you, even though it’s tough for me to look at my early work sometimes. I guess it’s reassuring to know you’ve thought of me too over the years.”

“God, you have no idea,” he said, his voice slightly gravelly.

“Really?” A little breathless, she placed a hand against her hair, which she’d swept up into a thick twist with a silver hair stick. She put it up on purpose, to tease him a little. She knew he’d want her to take it down. To see it all in its glory. Back when they were together, he’d often reach over and pull her hair tie or clip right out to watch her locks tumble down. It was this innocuous thing for other people, G rated, but like a private little strip tease for them.

“And it’s more than hair, of course, and what we did together,” he continued. “More than your transformations. Even though I do think of all of that often, very fondly. I just miss you, your mind and the dynamic we had together. We were so young I didn’t realize how rare what we had was.”

She understood that feeling all too well.

—

She’d regretted breaking up with him almost immediately, but she convinced herself that there was no way she actually met the right person for her so young. The idea of never dating again, never knowing for sure what was really out there, felt suffocating. She also got scared of how vulnerable she felt with him, how out of control she could feel at times in the heat of his presence. Putty in his hands, she’d watched as her once substantial mane had been gradually shortened to a bob with short bangs and an undercut. Against her will but exactly what she craved. What was next? She knew she’d let him shave her head completely if he wanted, and the idea of walking around with a bald head that had been given to her by her lover aroused her, but she wasn’t ready for that as a person just about to step out into the professional world for the first time. Worried she’d let her palpable desire for him cloud her judgment, she freaked out and cut off contact, even though she began to doubt her decision as soon as the next day. She couldn’t bring herself to reach out to him again because she felt sure he wouldn’t want to hear from her, and time piled up, and then she felt it was too late.

She’d tried to move on. Dated a man who felt safer, a man who didn’t know her deepest secrets. One she could maintain her composure around. Her mom passed away and when Marianne entered a period of deep grief, that man was by her side. They fell in love in a quieter way. She’d thought that it would be fine to have a monogamous partner who was vanilla and wouldn’t understand her kinks, and it was for a while.

It was a few years into her relationship, when her hair had grown out from it’s bob undercut that Theo had given her to the top of her breasts, that her repressed desires started to bubble up inside her in an intense manner. She missed being submissive. Being told what to do. She missed having her hair cut. She would walk by barber shops and feel a pang of desire shoot through her. When she’d get her yearly trim at the hairdresser, saying “Please, just an inch off the bottom,” she wished it was someone else wielding the scissors. Someone who wouldn’t stop at just an inch. She missed Theo, but she thought that surely she could just express her desires to her partner. There was no chance that hair was her new partner’s THING, but he loved her, right? Surely he’d be able to play along.

But it never felt right. First of all, he could barely talk about sex, period. They’d have it (on a increasingly infrequent basis) and it was the same basic formula with the lights usually off—kissing, hand stuff, maybe some oral, some sex in one of two, maybe three positions, some cuddling, and a “Goodnight.” No intense connection, no worlds shattering, no novelty. She tried to bring up roleplay—he wasn’t interested. Hair pulling, which she thought could be a natural segue into her deepest interests. He tried, but he never really got it, despite her showing him how she wanted him to pull her hair—like a rope, firmly. Commandingly. Like Theo had just known how to do without her asking. She tried so many ways to get them to connect deeply, in and out of the bedroom, and even entry-level kink was too much for him, let alone beginning to scratch the surface of her swirling needs and desires.

She’d later realize the final straw was when they were in bed one night in their post-coital embrace after having modest orgasms when she tried to bring up the topic one last time.

“I’ve been thinking maybe I should cut my hair short again.”

He was idly rubbing her hair as she lay against his chest. “Again?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Remember how when you met me it was pretty short? Like above my shoulders and I had an undercut? And bangs?”

“Hmm,” he reflected. “Yeah, I guess it is longer now, isn’t it?”

“It’s like eight inches longer than that,” she said. “And looks totally different. You haven’t noticed?”

“I guess I don’t really think about hair,” he said. “Now that you mention it, I didn’t like that undercut. I’m glad you grew it out. The bangs too. But whatever, it’s your hair.”

Her heart sank, knowing somewhere deep down that he’d never get her. He didn’t care enough to try. And maybe this was how most people felt in their relationships—quietly lonely in the company of each other and they just learned to deal with the ache somehow.

A few weeks later, she decided she could never settle for that, and left. She dated a few people after that, but none of them had come close to what she had with Theo. Over the years, her hair grew and grew—this living monument to the feeling they’d had together all those years before. She’d begun to worry that she was putting him and their relationship on a pedestal, that maybe the warmth of nostalgia was swaying her ability to accept reality. He was just a person, after all, flawed as anyone else, and they had been barely more than kids back then. Maybe she’d never even see him again. Or she would see him, but he’d hate her for leaving. Maybe she hadn’t been as important to him as he was to her and his reaction would be indifference—that would be the worst of all, she thought. But when she saw him on the train and they locked eyes again, she felt a wave of relief.

There he is, she thought. Thank god.

—

“Your hair should be down, Marianne,” Theo said, interrupting her reverie. “I want to see it all.”

Her pulse quickened as he reached across the cafe table with his long arm and slowly retrieved the hair stick from her bun himself. As her hair spilled down around her to its full length, pooling in her lap, she felt charged and exposed to the people at the surrounding tables as a pleasant and familiar warmth filled her. He didn’t seem to care if anyone else was looking at them as he ran a hand through it before settling back into his chair to look at her in awe.

“That’s the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen,” he said, placing a hand under his chin so he could lean in to observe her fully. “It’s longer than before, of course. But wow, I think it’s somehow even more beautiful and healthy than I remembered from before too.”

She smiled, wrapping her hand around the length of it that was long enough to fall into her lap, a self-soothing habit that she’d developed since it had gotten long enough. She couldn’t believe how long and healthy it was, either, and it had become a source of pride and a security blanket. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I more than like it,” he said. “I feel like I’m dreaming. I want to get my hands in it so badly.” He quirked his eyebrow up devilishly and leaned in further to whisper, “And my scissors. And my clippers. After my hands have had their fill playing with it, of course.”

She managed a “Yeah?” in reply, coughing a bit. “I’ve gotten pretty attached to it.”

“I think you’ve been such a good girl keeping your promise to me all these years of letting me be the only one to cut it.” His ‘good girl’ sent a jolt of pleasure through her. “I can’t imagine it was always easy. Hot summers with such heavy hair weighing you down. Rainy winters where it takes ages to dry. People commenting on it everywhere you go. It’s stunning, of course. But I think you want me to liberate you. Start fresh.”

She did. She didn’t. He had always seemed to know exactly what she needed, though, so maybe… “How short would you go, if you could? Would you take it slow, like how you did before?”

“Now that would be spoiling the surprise to tell you, right? Just know it would be short. Very short.”

“Shorter than you cut it before?”

He nodded, a serious expression crossing his face.

“Wow,” was all she could think to say. No words could capture the swirl of emotions inside of her. It was sinking in that this reconnection had always been inevitable, and that she would always cede her control back to him.

“I’ve thought of what I’d do to you if I had the chance constantly since I last saw you. Certainly it’s what I’ve been thinking about all day. I know exactly what I would do if I had free rein with that mane of yours. I know exactly what kind of control you want me to have over the situation. I know you’ve probably changed and grown in a thousand ways since I last saw you, but there’s no way that part of you has changed. It’s too primal, too deep in your bones. You want me to tell you how your hair is going to be.”

“If anything, that part of me has only gotten stronger as I’ve gotten older,” she said under her breath. “Louder. More impossible to ignore.”

“Why would you want to ignore it?” He asked. “Follow me.”

____

Their conversation had melted time and they missed the sun setting altogether, so when Theo lead Marianne out into the street, they were shrouded in darkness, except for a single streetlight outside of the cafe. With an increasingly brisk pace, Theo lead her to the alley on the side of the building where no one could see them, and brought his lips to hers. Electric chemistry coursed through them both as they kissed, the same kind of connection they’d always had, but somehow deeper and more frantic with their experience and time apart.

Her eyes cloudy with desire, Theo grabbed the bulk of her hair in his large hands and pulled her head back to deepen the kiss. She melted—he knew exactly how she needed it without her having to say. He wrapped the length of her hair around one fist so that she could feel the steady firm pressure of his fingers against her scalp and he led her out of the parking lot and back into the sidewalk.

“Where did you park?” he asked.

“Right over there,” she gestured, finding it hard to talk through her wave of arousal.

She’d gone home after work to change for their meetup and grabbed her car so she wasn’t beholden to the train schedule and found a spot near a park that was strewn with giant old growth trees, their evergreen needles still full and lush even as the leaves on the other trees had begun to change color and drop.

“Perfect,” he said and marched her past her car and into the park. It was a quiet night in a quieter part of the city, not truly cold yet, but a misty rain fell lightly around them and just a few passersby walked through the park with their dogs or engaged in post-dinner chats. Still guiding her by the leash of her hair, he brought her behind a thicket of trees—out of sight from the general public, she hoped?

He dropped her hair from his grasp and it spilled around her, the ends falling past the hemline of her sundress, and with her back to him, he took his time really feeling her hair. Slowly raking his hands down its length, lifting it and dropping it, smelling it. Everything he’d been missing, everything he’d been dreaming about. He took his time touching her, too, lifting her hair to run kisses down her neck, running his hands along her full hips and ass and she arched into him and could feel how hard he was against her. Each of his touches, his intense focus on her, felt stunningly intimate and sent shivers throughout her body.

He knelt down to pull her panties down and ordered her to step out of them. He placed her panties in his pocket and then spun her back around to face him and pushed her back against a tree so he could spread her legs and lick her clit, just how he remembered she liked, but even better with his experience. She came almost as soon as he slipped his fingers inside her wet, aching pussy, but he didn’t stop there, he knew she had more inside of her. He crooked his fingers forward against her g-spot as he licked her clit until she came again. This time she covered her own mouth so as not to cry out as loudly in such a public place. She was slumped over, panting and running her hands through his own thick hair that brushed his collar when he got up and turned her around again, placing her hands on the tree in front of her for purchase as he bent her over.

His big, hard cock slid right into her soaking wet pussy and he moaned low in his throat as she let out a guttural sound of pleasure. Her hair was so long it fell past her ass and he could feel her locks all over him, on the tops of his own thighs and on the base of his cock as he pounded into her again and again with the raw wonder and need of reconnecting with someone so special he thought he may never see again. And yet here she was, enveloping him. The magnetic object of his affection since the first day he’d sat behind her in that college class.

Growling in her ear, he asked her “This pussy is mine, right?”

“Yes,” she breathlessly said. “This pussy is yours.”

“And this body is mine?”

“Yes. Yours to do with what want.”

“And all this hair. It’s still mine, right? Say it.”

“It’s always been yours.”

He grabbed her ass with one hand and her hair with the other, holding it like a rope as he felt her contract against him again in another explosive orgasm. It was then he knew he could seek his own release, so he let her hair fall down again against her back and thrusted harder and faster until he pulled out from her and came all over her long hair.

Theo turned her back around to face him and held her as they both came back down to earth. Marianne was whispering “Thank you,” under her breath as Theo rubbed his cum into the lengths of her hair. It wasn’t something he’d planned to do, but he felt compelled somewhere deep within to stake his claim on her in a primal way.

When her senses began to return, Marianne said, “Oh my god, I forgot we are in public.” They could see a few people walking by in the distance.

“I couldn’t wait to have you,” he said. “I hope this was okay?”

“More than okay,” she smiled, feeling alight again in the horniest part of her sexuality in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever. “What’s next?” She asked, an open-ended question that was rich with meaning.

“Well I’m going to walk you back to your car in a bit here. And then you’re going to go home, and I want you to wash your hair. I’ve made a mess of it. Really take time with it. Use a hair mask. Dry it. In the morning when you wake up, I want you to style it however you like best. And then, I want you to spend the day with it. Play with it. Put it up in buns and braids. Put on cute outfits and take lots of pictures and videos of it. Feel it against your naked back. Run your hands through it.”

She knew she’d obey every command, and happily. He was back. “Okay,” she said.

“And then at six tomorrow, I am going to come pick you up and take you back to my house. And you’ll be glad you spent time celebrating your hair’s last day.”

Could that mean, she wondered? Was he going to cut off her hair as soon as tomorrow? He’d taken his time so slowly before. “Last day?”

“At least until I decide it’s time for you to grow it again, of course,” he ran his hand through it and she shivered thinking that by this time the next day, she may not be able to feel this sensation anymore. “But I doubt I’ll have the restraint for it to grow this long ever again. No, this mop definitely needs tending to.”

——

When she woke up the next day with her hair nice and clean, she couldn’t believe how much her life had changed in a day. It still felt unreal that she’d seen Theo again, after all those years. If it wasn’t for her pleasantly sore thighs and pussy, she would think it had been a dream. But those physical reminders indicated to her that it was all very real.

One phrase continued to run unbridled through her mind. Her “hair’s last day.” The thought filled her with an old cocktail of fear and excitement—she wasn’t ready to lose her beloved locks. But maybe she was, deep down. Maybe she would never be ready on her own. Would he really take her short today? And how short? Was he just teasing her like he used to?

It really was such beautiful hair, she mused as she took her time loosely curling the length of it. Not a split end in sight. Shiny, thick, some natural highlights throughout from the sun. Her hair was her signature—her friends and coworkers would all be shocked if she showed up to work on Monday with it shorter at all, let alone as short as knew Theo would like to take her.

As he’d commanded, she spent all day with her hair. She took countless pictures and videos. Some with it down, some with it up in a bow. At one point she took her time braiding it into an impossibly thick rope. She took some while she was wearing her underwear in her bathroom, some where she was wearing a little blue dress in her backyard.

She sent all of her best pictures and videos to Theo, and he texted in reply, “Good girl. Look at all that hair. I hope you’re ready for tonight.”

She’d known the second she saw him on the train that her fate was sealed. That they were back together and her appearance was back in his hands, as she most craved. Pleasing him felt amazing. Even better than before. She didn’t want to lose her hair, and she wondered how far he would take it, but she wanted this more than words could say, whatever the outcome.

——

A short rap on her apartment door arrived promptly at six, and her stomach clenched. For a moment she imagined not opening the door, going back to the quiet and predictable life she’d built for herself over the last decade. Keeping her hair in all its glory.

But she knew that wasn’t the life that was meant for her. She had to let herself be who she really was, and the only person she’d ever felt fully herself around was on the other side of that door. She opened it, and there he was—her lover. If he was nervous too, he didn’t show it.

“You look incredible,” he scanned her from top to bottom, taking in the way her hair spilled loose over her dark blue dress with a low back. He handed her a gift bag as he stepped into her entryway and kissed her.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said with a shy, pleased smile.

“I think you’re gonna need this,” he said and gestured for her to open it.

She reached inside and pulled out a beautiful wig. On touch alone, it felt like real human hair. Light blonde, but with realistically blending roots and a lace front. It was short and swingy and would probably rest past her chin if she were to put it on. “Wow, this is beautiful,” she said, wondering if he wasn’t really going to cut her hair after all. Maybe he just wanted to see her in the short wig. She was surprised how the thought disappointed her. “I don’t know if all my hair will fit under this!”

“Oh, my darling girl,” he reached in to tip her chin up for another kiss. “The wig is for after I’m done with you. I figured you may want the option.”

Holding the bag with her new wig inside of it in her lap, she could barely remember what they talked about on the car ride from her place to his. Pleasantries, mostly. Catching up on all they’d missed in their absence from each other. Everything but what was on top of her mind that night—what was in store for them.

His place was outside of the city as well, but outside of the suburbs and further toward the mountains where the roadside became increasingly dense with trees. He pulled off the rural highway onto a gravel road. He hopped out of the car to unhook the gate and continued down a private road for about half a mile, deep into the forest. The further away from civilization they drove, the closer she felt to her fate being sealed.

They finally arrived to his place, an updated cedar A-frame house on a private lake. He showed her inside and toured her around his big open concept kitchen and living room that were framed with big picture windows overlooking the water. The clouds had lifted and the sun was setting, a gorgeous coral and violent swirl above the treetops. From this vantage point, there were no other humans in sight.

“Your home,” she gestured. “Wow. It’s amazing.”

“You look good here,” he smiled, and stepped behind her to squeeze her shoulders and kiss her neck. She arched into him. “Follow me. Let me show you somewhere special.”

He guided her to the corner of the room, where a wrought iron spiral staircase descended into a lower floor. He held her hand as she followed him downstairs into a walkout basement that had hardwood floors, a bed in the corner, and a wooden stool with a table next to it in the center of the room. Her heart beat faster as she saw the leather bag on the table—a different kit than the one he’d had when he cut her hair in the past, but unmistakably a haircutting kit. She clutched her hair protectively as the reality of it set in and she hung on the bottom rung on the stairs as if stepping off meant she was ready for this. She wasn’t ready, she thought.

He could see her fear on her face, and he reached out to stroked her cheek. “You know what you’re here for. No need to be shy now, Marianne.” He kissed her then and she dissolved into his lips as she always did, unaware that in their embrace he had walked her closer to the stool in question.

“Take your dress off,” he commanded when she stood in front of the stool, and she did as he told, lifting her dark blue dress over her head. It was an ordeal to take off with her oversized mane getting in the way, and he came over to help with the final pull of it. “Now, your bra and panties.” She unhooked her bra and her generous tits spilled out in front of her, which she quickly hid behind her curtain of brunette locks. She stepped out of her panties and stood before him for his inspection.

“Good,” he said. “Stay standing.”

He unzipped his bag, which was out of her line of sight. She jumped at the sound, but she relaxed as soon as she felt the brush run through her hair. A true student of hair, he knew what he was doing as he worked slowly, starting at her ends, brushing each strand and working through any tangles. He was on his knees behind her to start and took frequent breaks to kiss and touch her all over, from her ankles to her calves up through her hips and higher. He poured loving attention into every inch of her beloved hair, so reverently she thought that maybe her hair would be spared.

“Remember when I gave you bangs, that first night?” He asked as he took his time with her.

“So vividly. You cut them so short, but I do think I pulled them off,” she said, her voice slightly quivering from her arousal as he touched her.

“You did,” he said. “You have the most beautiful face, you can pull any hairstyle off. You looked so good with your little bob.”

He was working his way up her hair and rested his index finger right at her jawline. “I’ll never forget sinking my scissors into your hair right here. The little gasp you made as you realized how short I was going.” He trailed his fingers up her nape and into the mass of her hair. “And I’ll never forget what your little undercut felt like to touch, and to buzz.”

“It was so short,” she whispered.

“The shortest you’ve ever had it, right? Until now, at least.” He finished his thorough brushing and set it aside. “Sit down, Marianne.”

She did, her wet pussy feeling particularly exposed against the wooden stool. She pulled her hair even further in front of herself to cover her whole body.

“How short are you going to cut it, Theo?” she asked, looking behind her shoulder to see if she could catch his eye and plead for some mercy. Shorter than her undercut bob? It was hard to imagine.

“Look forward,” he said as he reached into her hair and pulled it back into a loose ponytail around the top of her shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, my darling. Such a massive trophy. Do I take you to the hairdressers for an all day event? Have her dye your dark hair blonde all over? Watch all that rich color sap from it? Slowly chop it down in stages over weeks? Do I cut it flowing loose from your head, watching all those locks fall into your lap and on the ground? God, imagine what that would look like. Your hair would BLANKET my floor. Do I make you clean it all up from the ground, feel the discarded weight of it in your hands? All of those options have their appeal, but I keep coming back to this hair, and just how special it is. I want to keep it, in a ponytail. I want to display it. I want us both to look at it and remember this moment. And I don’t want to waste a single inch of it.”

She could hear him rustle through the bag again, and heard the telltale sound of clippers roaring to life.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, realizing.

“Be still, my brave girl,” he said as he grabbed the length of her ponytail in his lift hand and plunged the clippers into her hair from the nape upward, mowing a line across her scalp to her hairline.

Involuntary tears sprung to her eyes as she realized this wasn’t just any short haircut, she was going to be a bald girl. He whispered works of encouragement to her as he buzzed another pass through her hair. She couldn’t see herself, but she could feel the air on her scalp in an utterly foreign way as he slowly removed her heavy blanket of hair. What if she looked terrible? Each buzz of the clippers sent a trill of pleasure down her spine as the tears began to fall.

“It’s okay to cry, babygirl,” he said, pausing briefly to hand her a tissue. “It’s a big change. You’re going to look so amazing.”

He ran his hand along her newly buzzed section of scalp, and she shivered. “God, this feels good,” he said. “Feel it.” He lead her hand up to her head and she almost didn’t want to know, but he rested her hand along it and she gasped.

“What guard did you use?” she asked, remembering how much he’d deliberate over which guard to use back when he was in charge of keeping up her undercut. This felt short.

“No guard this time.”

“Oh my God.” It was scary, and thrilling to think about how short that was.

He kissed her on the cheek and then fired up the clippers again. “Put your chin into your chest,” he said, and continued his mission. Pass after pass, he buzzed off her hair right near the root, until he made one last final swipe of hair at her left temple and pulled the massive ponytail cleanly into his grasp. He felt the tremendous weight of it in his hand before passing it to her.

“This is so surreal,” she said, holding the massive ponytail aloft in her hands. “I can’t believe this is my hair.”

As she touched and examined the trophy, he walked back behind her and rubbed her head with both hands, exploring all the uncharted parts of her freshly denuded scalp. She moaned under his touch. “That feels so good,” she said as she also raised a hand to her head to feel it. “It’s so weird. I bet I look weird.”

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He pulled a mirror from his bag and handed it to her to look at herself. She gasped, finding the woman in the reflection unrecognizable but surprisingly…not bad. Powerful. Bold. BALD, with only the slightest dusting of stubble. Still sexy even without hair, her smokey eye makeup prominently framing her eyes.

“This is going to take some time getting used to,” she admitted.

“I thought of that,” he said. “And I realized, I didn’t want you to go through this alone.”

“What do you mean?”

He walked around to stand facing her and then dropped to his knees between her legs. He handed her the clippers that had just wreaked destruction against her own hair. “Cut it all off. We’re in this together.”

Deeply moved and unable to ignore his direct order, she lay her long ponytail on the table beside her and focused on her task. She looked down upon his face and ran her hand through his hair. It was lovely in its own right, a few shades lighter than hers, and landed against his collar. Almost a shame to buzz it all off, but she thought about the ruthless way she’d just been sheared. She turned the clippers on and plunged them into his hair, right down the middle, pulling his head left and right, up and down, as she mowed down his hair to match hers. His hair slid down the back of his button up shirt and the contrast of her being fully nude and him still in his shirt and slacks hit her. She continued on until his entire head was covered in stubble.

He looked up at her and smiled at her, and she leaned down to kiss him right on top of his freshly buzzed head. They both stood, their hands all over each other’s matching shorn scalps, his hair clippings dancing to the ground as they rose.

____

The next morning, she blinked her eyes open and for a moment, forgot where she was. Marianne moved to run her hands through her hair and awoke fully, with a jerk, when she touched her head and realized it hadn’t all been a dream. She looked over the headboard in his bedroom to see her ponytail mounted on a display shelf he’d installed the day before in anticipation of his future prize. The night before he’d traced her entire body with the ponytail and teased her with it in countless ways. She rolled over to see her own shorn lover blinking his eyes open at her, his own smile of disbelief emerging on his face as he reached over to run his hand against her head, sending shivers throughout her body.

“My little shorn lamb,” he said as he drew her closer into his arms. “So brave. I feel like it’s already grown a little.”

“It’s so short,” she whispered, like she had probably a hundred times since her shearing the night before. “Are you going to keep me this short for long?”

He nodded. “For a while, anyway. I’ll want to bleach it when it’s a little longer, play with different colors of your buzzcut. Keep you on your toes. Just when it’s grown out a bit and you think ‘maybe he’s growing it out!’ I will take you to the barbershop to have it freshly cut down. But eventually I will want to grow it all out again. Reward you as it hits certain milestones. You’ll look so cute with a short pixie with faded sides, and eventually a bob. Maybe I’ll give you an undercut again. But I will want you long again, eventually. Maybe never as long as it was yesterday ever again, but I think we have a lifetime of fun ahead of us.”

“A lifetime, hmm?” She smiled, daydreaming about their life ahead and how they wouldn’t have to continue living without each other again.

“That’s the plan,” he said. “I am going to take you out for breakfast this morning, by the way. Your first outing with your new look. Ease you back into people seeing you before your big reveal at work on Monday.”

The reality of that hit her. “Oh god, what are my friends gonna say when they see me?” They were going to be shocked.

“Expect gasps,” he said. “But know that no matter how anyone reacts, you couldn’t be hotter or more perfect to me. Do you want to wear your new wig out to breakfast?”

She considered that question. “No, I think I want them to see all of me. Let them stare.”

He nodded proudly. “Good girl.”

 

 

(Thanks for reading! As always, I would love to know your thoughts. Hearing from readers is one of my favorite things.)