FANTASY and REALITY of Life
By JimB ©opyright February 2010
This is a story of fantasy.
A dream, that has been embedded deeply within a person’s unconscious mind, for how long, not even they know. To come out when time begins, to stand still for them, with nothing else to do.
A “fantasy”, in a way, that has held many back but soon to be known to the right person.
A person, who for what ever reason, has the same fantasy within them self.
Will the two met to explore and achieve their fantasy is one thing. To live out what others see as strange but to them it is a wanting.
That is the question one must ask them self.
Or, to let it die as the years take their toll, on one’s body and soul.
It is only you who can decide ……….
FANTASY and REALITY of Life
By JimB ©opyright February 2010
The beginning of an “Adventure” …..
The airplane was backing away from the loading port, he waves in hopes she sees its joyful movement. He hopes she can see the smile on his face, one of pleasure. A wish he could see her again, to explore another fantasy together.
They have only known each other eight or nine months, meeting within the miles of cyberspace. Living, as they would find out, in the next state.
Their fate was written many years ago, even though the years in age was many.
Both searching to find someone who understood the strange feeling within their mind.
Someone who know what the other was feeling, wanting.
A fate, to be held from their family, friends, even them selves. Not know if it was something of wrong, or of right.
Their lives met over many weeks, through posting notes on their favorite cyber board. Notes that others knew of, but knew them only by a combination of letters and numbers as their name.
Through stories they each wrote, some of fiction, others of reality.
Like their other friends on the board, they wondered if they had been alone in this strange feeling.
After reading his story she began to wonder if he would be the one in her “destiny”, her “fantasy”.
Could she have found someone who could bring this fantasy to life for her.
Too, end the torment, within her deep mind.
Too, finally bring it to a working end.
He read her stories, short was her style with a hint of sexual intent, with interest, wondering if reality would someday be hers, as he hoped his would come to an end.
Her stories of her love of hair, the losing of hair, through settings of love, force.
He could tell she had a deep feeling of the loss but could not decide how it would come about.
Would it be gentle, would it be strong!
His stories were long, always describing each movement that was made.
Telling of feelings by the one losing, the one taking, and those who were viewing.
As one read his story you could see the movements. You could feel the feelings they were having.
Had they had these feelings they wrote about.
Or, was it of fiction …..
They began with short e-mails to each other, extending their enjoyment in each other’s stories.
Their replies wanting to know more about the other.
But, could not telling if it was he or she ….
He had e-mailed her asking a few questions, hoping to find out more of her for a story one night. Hoping to receive a long e-mail with the answers
But, across his screen came a message.
“Want to chat”, her name was signed.
“Yes, where, in a private room or by telephone?” he replied as his stomach began to tighten.
Her telephone number flashed across his screen.
“When will you call” was with it.
“I am signing off now. Give me a few minutes after that,” he wrote back to her.
He rushed to the telephone in his bedroom, hoping he did not write the number wrong.
He took a deep breath and dialed the number.
It rang, rang a few times, he began to wonder if he had written it down correct or if she was playing with him.
“Hello” came from a soft voice of a woman.
His heart was pounding, as he said her name.
“Hi, …..” came the answer.
They spent the next minutes talking with easy, as if they had known each other for years.
Understanding they were for real, as was their interest in hair. They spoke of her enjoyment of having her hair cut, her head shaved.
His hair cutting of a few women, even the head shaving he did.
A few personal questions were nicely placed in the conversation, place so they would not distract from the subject.
But, would give each other information.
She told of having met others on the Board, of a chance to bring to live a fantasy.
How it was not to be, because the other was not prepared to bring it out for her.
He told her, her wishes would have come through if it had been him.
That he had the same fantasy but with a different twist.
Slowly this fantasy of theirs began to become one as they talked about it. Talking as if they would one day meet and bring the “fantasy to reality”.
Too, end the torment within their minds.
Some weeks had passed since that night. He wondered if she thought, as he did, if they could one day meet.
Maybe, to again talk on the telephone!
He wrote more stories, sending them to her first.
She sent him some newer ones, as a reply.
He was getting ready to go out for the day, the night before dreaming of their meeting. The time spent building the excitement.
The day they would bring “fantasy to reality” for both.
Would she, did she, want to bring “fantasy to reality”, he thought.
He had to know …..
He got out the shower and rushed to his computer.
He was about to take a step he thought he would never take.
How, he thought, would he present his plan!
Should he explain it out or just inquire if their “fantasy” would remain as such.
He began writing, explaining what he was wondering, hoping.
“Hi, see you are up early, too”, flashed the message across his screen.
“Yes, I had something on my mind. Can you chat?” he wrote.
“Sorry, I have an early appointment. Drop me an “e”. I will be home early today,” her reply said.
“O.K., have a nice day,” he urged her. Clearing the screen he went back to the letter telling of his plan.
All day he could not keep his mind off the offer, how would she take it!
Nothing went right for him, as a normal day went into long hours.
When he arrived home, tired wanting a warm bath, he turned on his computer and signed on.
He was hoping she had replied but became a little nervous when he saw he had seven messages.
Slowly he looked for hers: there it was, number five.
“CLICK”, he opened it.
“Tried to call you but you were not home. The offer sounds great ….. except”
The bottom of the page appeared, quickly he moved the arrow to the scroll bar to move the message up more.
“could we make it a day earlier. I could use a nice short vacation, about now. And, your offer would be just the thing.”
He searched to see if she was on line.
“Sorry, had a longer day than I expected. Yes, there would be no problem adding another day to your vacation.” he sent.
A minute passed, his message still on the screen.
Had she signed off!
“I cannot get away this week or next. But, I can clear my calendar for the week after next. Is that all right?” she told him.
“Great ….. Give me an address to send the ticket. It has to be one during the day. I will purchase it tomorrow and send it express”, he told her.
“Here is the address where I work. We get express every day about 9:30am. I will tell everyone to look for it. Got to go, sleep you know,” and she signed off.
The next morning he purchased a round trip ticket for her and took it to the express office. He told the clerk of her employee receiving deliveries at 9:30am each day, so she looked it up in her computer.
“Yes”, the clerk told him, as she marked across the package the time and a coded number.
In his messages, the next night, was her receipt of the tickets, telling him how hard it was not to pass the offer.
She had a few extra days coming and it would be great to use them to meet him. She was glad of the offer and was looking forward to bringing “fantasy to reality” for both.
The weeks passed by, long for both.
Each sending “e-mails”, expressing the length.
Her mind was filled with the excitement she would feel.
Wondering how he would accomplish the transformation.
What other “goodies” did he have in mind, was she to become a moving display afterwards.
Or, would they enjoy the “reality” no longer it being a “fantasy”?
Would their lives change or would they continue onto another fantasy?
He spent the weekend before their meeting, searching for the gifts he would give to her. The one’s which would bring another part of the “fantasy” more alive.
He had combined part of her’s with that of his, hoping they would give them both the pleasures they were wanting.
To his pleasures others were to become the “onlookers” as their’ “fantasy became reality”.
She had e-mailed a photograph of herself to him.
But, it was part of her “fantasy” not to know what he looked like.
She wanted to see if she had pictured him in her mind.
To see, if this “fantasy” had other powers, which they did not know of.
To search the crowd for the picture she had made in her mind.
When she contacted him the morning of her leaving, for their meeting, she told of another fantasy.
One, which would have him wondering more about her!
To see if this was another of his fantasy held deep in his mind.
She did not ask for an answer, just wanted to place another one in place.
He had given her information about what he would be wearing, “short brown hair, needing a haircut, glasses, ….. maybe”.
Her flight would leave around 11:46am, the schedule had read, arriving at 1:22pm.
It was now 9am, for both of them lived in the same time zone.
He had four hours to put any final touches on the “fantasy”.
They would arrive at his home by 4pm, with her taking a short rest.
Tonight he would treat her to dinner, bring her to some of the places they would visit when “reality” had arrived.
They would choose her gifts, to bring the “fantasy” to “reality”.
Some they had talked about.
He stood waiting at the gate for her.
His eyes reading, from his mind, for her photograph.
Could he find the lady who he would live his “fantasy” out with, before she found him.
People were walking, running.
The crowd was large.
Person to person …..
His eyes caught site of a lovely lady walking, searching.
His mind began scanning for her photograph. Small little features began to bring her together.
He smiled as the full picture appeared, it was HER.
She searched the waiting crowd, looking for the short brown hair needing a haircut.
She spotted the smile he was wearing.
They approached each other, looking deep into each other’s eyes.
Their fantasy was to begin.
She put down the small bags she was carrying, their arms opened as if they had been friends, lovers even, to greet each other.
Not a word was said, just the thought of a fantasy coming true as they embraced with a kiss and hug.
He picked up her bag, as she took his hand in hers.
After picking up her suitcase they walked to the parking lot, talking about her flight and small questions of their path.
They walked as lovers, not friends.
That night, after dinner, he took her to the local shopping mall.
There they picked out a matching skirt and blouse for her to wear.
At another store she chose a matching pair of five-inch high heels.
Not to be left out, she chose a nice shirt, tie, and suit for him to wear.
They visited four night clubs, they would visit again the next night.
He showed her the restaurant they would dine, at the next night. The table he had chosen was at the front as everyone entered.
They viewed the menu in the window.
“Nothing too good for us tomorrow night,” he whispered in her ear.
It was a little after midnight when they arrived back at his house.
They would be getting up around 8am for breakfast then off on their fantasy trip.
As they ate breakfast he told how the full fantasy would take place.
They would walk into the barbershop, he had chosen.
Sit and wait their turn.
When called he would be reading a magazine, not hearing the call.
She would be first, as both had agreed.
After sitting in the chair, it was known the barber would ask her how she wanted her hair cut.
She would pretend to be unable to speak, waving her hand to get his attention.
When his attention was gotten, he would walk to the chair.
He would tell the barber how she wanted her hair cut.
She would look at the barber to shake her head in agreement, with his instructions.
As he turned to walk back to his seat, he would turn back and tell the barber of shaving her hairline, moving a finger over her ear along the hairline and pointing to the small of her head.
It was around 9:45am when they arrived at the barbershop.
It was a four chair shop, with old style barber chairs like she had wanted in her fantasy.
There were customers in each chair and three more were waiting.
He guided her to the chair of his choice and they sat down.
The barber was bending down, reaching for something in the cabinet.
When the barber stood up she saw he had filled part of his fantasy, too.
The barber was a woman, a barberette, about her age and her hair was cut short in a “boyish” cut with long bangs.
Seeing this she reached for his hand and held it tight.
As planned he was looking through a magazine when their number was called.
She gave him a ‘nudge’ with her leg.
Then, walked to the chair.
The barberette put the cape around her neck, pinning it in the back.
She picked up a comb and began to comb her hair, as she asked, “Just a trim”.
She motioned for him with her hand, as the barberette tried to figure what was wrong.
He looked up and jumped to the chair.
“Sorry” he said walking to the chair.
“She has a sore throat and we just came from the doctor.
“He painted her throat and told her not to talk for the rest of the day”.
“Do you know how she wants her hair cut”, the barberette asked.
“Yes”, he told the barberette, as he brushed his hand over the side of her head.
“She wants a ‘high-n-tight, like they get in the military.
“Very short and high on the sides and back.
“The top is to be a little longer in the front”, he continued.
“But, no bangs”.
“When you shave the hairline”, he continued as he traced the outline and pointing to the small of neck, “she wants the back shaved high to here”.
The barberette looked at him as he described the cut, she wanted to believe him.
But, she looked at her, as was expected, and she shook her head “YES”.
Telling the barberette that is what she wanted.
He returned to his seat and began to read through the magazine.
The barberette turned, shaking her head, as she put the comb down on the shelf.
She picked up the number three attachment with one hand, the brought the clippers up from under the shelf with the other.
Turning she put the attachment on the head of the clippers.
“CLICK, HUummmmm” they sounded.
“CLICK” she turned them off and blew some clippings off and put a few drop of oil on the hungry teeth.
She crossed her legs causing the cape to rise as a smile came to her face.
One telling him, she was waiting for the “fantasy to become reality”.
He smiled back at her, looking but not looking in the magazine.
The barberette turned her head looking at the other barbers.
She shook her head in disbelief, as she stepped to the right side of the chair.
She looked at her one more time, “Are you sure you want your hair cut this way”.
She looked at him, then the barberette, and shook her head “YES”
FANTASY no more, ……….
“CLICK, Huummmmm”, the barber turned the clippers on singing.
She brushed her hair back off her face with her left hand, her right hand brought the clippers up slowly to her head.
With still disbelief the barberette placed the clippers at the hairline and slowly pushed it back into her hair.
The ‘humming’ sound of the clippers became a cutting sound, as hair came tumbling down into the cape. A bright smile came to her face.
Their “fantasy” was now becoming their “reality”.
Slowly the clippers inched back over her head pushing a pile of hair before it.
When it stopped at the back it was lifted causing the pile of hair to tumble to the floor behind the chair. In its path was left hair half an inch in length.
The barberette placed the hungry clippers next to the first pass.
She looked in the mirror to see the smile on her.
She had given this hair cut to many boys and men, but never a woman. As she slowly pushed the clippers back again, she noticed her head rising.
When they were brought back she now brought her body up to meet the clippers.
The barberette seeing this no longer hesitated and begin pushing the clippers back quickly.
She finished the top of her head, reaching across her face to clip the left side.
Now she began upward pushes of the clippers over the side, working around to the back and the left side.
Hair was falling on the floor, her shoulders, and the cape.
Her smile grew as the clippers took its last pass.
“CLICK,” they were turned off.
She brought her left hand from under the cape, brushing over her clipped head. It felt like a brush, a brush she had on her head ten months ago.
The barberette took off the large attachment and brushed caught hair from its teeth. A little more oil was applied to the hungry teeth, to make cutting much smoother.
A small attachment was then put over the teeth.
She ‘clicked’ it on and off a few times, checking the cutting action.
She turned back to the chair. She pushed the handle down causing the chair to lower a little.
“CLICK” the clippers jumped back to life, “HUmmmmm”.
They were eager to do more cutting.
She placed it in the center of her head and quickly pushed it back over her head. A pile of small strands fell to the floor when it came to a halt. It was brought back to the front and another pass was quickly made backward.
One more stroke and she walked around the chair to the left side.
There she began the clippers’ movement again.
Three quick passes and the top of her head was cut to a quarter of an inch.
Placing her hand on top of her head the barberette tilted it to the right.
With quick movements she began clipping the side of her head to the same length as the top. She worked her way around her head, to the back then the other side.
She took out her hair duster from her pocket and brushed it across her face and head, sending clipped hairs in the air.
She turned taking the attachment off the clippers.
Then, she hung the clippers back under the shelf.
She took hold of another clipper, one with a large black body. A little oil was applied to its hungry teeth before she made it sing.
Its song was lower than the other, its teeth moved at a much faster pace.
With the clippers singing the barberette returned to the right side of the chair.
Not saying a word, she placed it at the hairline in front of the ear.
Quickly it was pushed upward stopping where the arch began.
It left behind a light brown fuzz in its path.
Her ear was bent downward as the clippers made another upward pass behind it. The barberette moved slowly around her head, to the back bringing it over the arch a little.
Blending the cut into the hairs on top.
She continued blending until she was ready to clip the left side of her head.
With six quick strokes she was finished.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Her fantasy no longer existed, the one she let be known to him.
Now the reality, for which they had come together for, was taking form.
The fantasy they both shared for so long, was at an end.
They looked at each other and took a deep breath of relief.
The barberette returned with comb and scissors and slowly began blending the side and top together. It did not take her long, as the clippers had done their job correctly.
They were put to rest on the shelf.
She undid the clamp holding the cape and the cape slid down into her lap.
She tucked a large white towel into the collar of her dress.
Reaching across her lap the barberette removed the cape, as she glanced up at her face.
She gave herself a “job well done” in her mind and shook the hair onto the floor. The cape was tucked behind the chair’s back, as the barberette flipped on the switch to the shaving cream dispenser.
A pile of white cream began to grow in her left hand.
She could see in the mirror as the barberette was gathering the final touch.
A touch she had only felt the time she had had her head shaved.
This time the soft shaving cream was to be spread along her hairline.
Gently she began applying the cream along the hairline, softly dabbing it to the clipped hairs.
A pile, just high enough to cover the closely clipped hair.
Higher in the back covering the back of the neck completely.
Then, along the left side hairline.
Wiping her hands the barberette picked up the straight razor from the shelf.
She walked to the right side of the chair and took hold of the leather strap. Slowly she began stropping the blade over it, quickening the strokes to put it to work.
Her head was tilted, as the barberette placed her left thumb about the hairline and the skin pulled upward. The razor was placed along the hairline and a short, very short, downward stroke was made to remove hair and shaving cream.
Gently and slowly she worked the razor along the hairline, over the ear and downward to where the neck begin.
Downward strokes were made, down the neck shaving it to the skin.
Her head was tilted downward pulling the skin tight for the razor. Across her neck leaving it smooth for soft gentle kisses. The razor began an upward climb behind the left ear, over and down.
It’s final stroke taken at the bottom of the sideburn.
She put the razor to rest, after wiping it clean for its next job.
She placed a warm towel over the shaving, wiping away the shaving cream that was not used. Wiping it over the top, the sides, and the back of her clipped head.
She tossed the towel in the pile behind the chair and began sprinkling sweet powder into the hair duster. With gentle strokes she dusted the powder over the haircut, then her face.
With a bending of her body she pushed the arm downward lowering the chair to its fullest.
She stepped out the chair.
Her “fantasy” now was her “reality”.
She walked to where he was seated and sat in the chair.
He was now getting in the barber’s chair.
“Same as you gave my wife,” he exclaimed “only do not shave the neck so high”.
They sat smiling at each other.
Their “reality” was now beginning.
This is a story of REALITY.
The point where “fantasy” no longer exists, the dream has come to an end. No longer embedded deeply within a person’s unconscious mind, it has come out to face all to see.
Time is no longer standing still, as in a “fantasy”, but is now moving in a path away from the “dream”.
The “destiny” has been chosen, now it is taking place. The two have met in the presence of many to watch in disbelief.
The reality of a dream which has tempered many for years. No longer to lie dying as the years progress but to become what one wishes.
One’s body and soul has now taken that step out of a dream, a “fantasy”, into the real world, the world of REALITY.
It is only you who can decide WHEN ONE ENDS AND THE OTHER BEGINS ……………
Chapter IV – The beginning of another “adventure”
As she got out the chair, feeling her new short hair, she wanted to explode with a loud and wild “YES”.
But, she remembered she could not talk, to do so now would make the “fantasy” something that had not happened.
Instead she took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror.
“Too late,” the barberette told her.
She just brushed her hand over the top of her head and smiled at the barber.
A smile of delight, of pleasure.
He paid for their haircuts and took her by the elbow of her right arm.
He gently, but quickly, guided her out the shop.
As they walked past the other barbers and customers her mind wanted to stick her tongue out and say “Naaaaa!, See, women can cut their hair like him”.
As they walked out the shop he whispered she should hold everything within her until they returned to his house.
His house where they would talk about the “fantasy”.
Which had now become their reality.
She sat nervously not saying a word as he drove the five miles home.
At each stop light, stop sign, the people in the other cars would look, and take a another look. In one car the driver was in such shock, he missed the light.
As he pulled into the driveway, then the garage, she began to open the door. Before he could stop the car completely she was out.
Racing into the house to the bathroom, where there was a large mirror.
Once there she took a closer look at her new hair cut, her “high-n-tight”, she let out that shout she was not allowed to make at the barber shop.
“YESssssss”, she shouted, “We did it”.
He was now standing in the bathroom’s doorway smiling at her, as she turned her head from side to side, gently brushing her hands over her “high-n-tight”.
She was grinning like a “Cheshire Cat”, from ear to ear.
She turned to him, throwing her arm around his neck and giving him a kiss like she had never giving anyone.
One they had agreed not to give each other, as they were only friends, not lovers.
She returned to the mirror brushing her fingers through the clipping of hair, as he went to get them drinks.
They sat on the couch in the family room, facing each other as lovers would, sipping their drinks, talking about their once “fantasy”.
She told of the urge to tell the barberette of her wishes, how hard it was to play the role.
How she almost shouted at her when she hesitated in passing the clippers over her head.
The feelings she had when the barber realized she wanted her hair cut “sooo” short.
How this time the clipping felt different to the other times.
He told her of the looks the barberette had as she readied the clippers.
Her expression of “is this a joke”.
How she had looked at the other barbers, as if wanting them to say “it is a joke”.
How her expression had changed after the first pass of the clippers.
The look that told her, “well, she has not said anything, so what the hell”, as she began the second pass.
Her look of disbelief when she had finished the cut.
He sat brushing his hand over her “high-n-tight”, feeling its softness. A feeling he had only felt on his own head.
The smoothness of her neck, as he cupped it, then stroked his fingertips over it.
At how amazed he was she really wanted her hair cut so short.
How sitting, getting his hair cut, he watching her gleam with pleasure.
The conversation turned to what he had planned for them that night.
First, dinner at a local hotel, whose restaurant faced the street and had large windows.
They were not going to sit at a window table but at one near the entrance.
Where the customers who were there could see them enter and as they left.
Where the new customers could see her as they entered the restaurant to dine.
Where all could see her and wonder …..
Then, they would go to a bar in another hotel, one which faced the street.
They would sit on the street side of the bar, close to the door again for all to see her as they came and would leave.
A visit to two, or three, night clubs, to see the reaction of the dancers.
Finally, a local dance club.
It was 2am when they returned, somewhat in an alcohol stupor.
He helped her to his bedroom where she was to sleep off the night’s adventure and he would sleep on the couch as planned.
It was 9am when they awoke, her head somewhat turning.
He was fixing breakfast for them, something she had never had a man do for her, except maybe her father when she was a child.
She drank three glass of orange juice, “to help her hang-over”, she told him.
They spent the day as tourists, him showing her places hidden from the tours.
They had lunch at an open air restaurant and talked about going back to some of the places they went the night before.
This time she wanted one of the dancers to sit with them, the one who liked her haircut so much.
He had planned dinner at another restaurant, this time they would sit in the middle.
Chapter V – Another step taken
After a short rest, they started getting dressed for the evening.
He had tickets for a local art theater before they would dine. She would enjoy the program it was by a local artist and writer.
As they were ready to leave she was taking another look at her new haircut.
He walked up behind her, “I think you need a little touch up”.
Her eyebrows did a little raise, “Where, …..”.
He ran his fingers along the hairline and across her neck, where the barberette had shaved.
He stepped out the bathroom and returned with a small stool, which she sat on with pleasure.
He removed two white towels from the closet, placed one on the counter top and the other he tucked into her collar.
From the cabinet he removed a can of shaving cream and two safety razors.
Then, from the drawer he brought out a small clippers.
She had never seen clippers this small, they were a lime-green in color and ran on batteries.
Next he took out a dark colored cape and placed it around her neck.
He brushed his fingers up the side of her head, “This needs a touching up, too”.
She smiled as he turned on the clippers, its humming sound was soft.
He began pushing it upward clipping her hair closer than the clippers the barberette used the day before.
Slowly he worked his way around her head to the left side.
High up her head, following the path of the barberette’s clipping.
When the clippers were turned off, he stood behind her looking over the top.
She brushed her fingers over the sides of her head. Her hair was clipped shorter than the barberette had clipped her. She could almost feel her scalp.
He brushed his hand over her head, brushing the hairs on the top of her head.
“This needs a little touch up, too”, he told her.
She looked at herself in the mirror, knowing what his thoughts were.
What he meant by “a little touch up, too”.
She had had her head shaved a number of times but it was not part of their fantasy.
Maybe it was their next step into “reality” ……….
She pondered the thought of another head shaving, one she had not planned for. She turned her head looking at how close the clippers had clipped the sides and back of her head.
“Would he shave them”, she thought to herself.
Her hands came from under the cape, slowly brushing them over the clipped hair. The stiffness of them tickled her skin, never had she felt this before. Her scalp showed, needing sunlight to darken it.
He stood behind her, the little lime-green clippers singing a song.
A song she had heard many times and enjoyed their singing, a song she had come to like more than any other.
Softer was its pitch, filling her ears like a humming bee.
Without a word she put her hands back under the cape and gave him a smile.
The smile told him her answer, the top did need “a little touch up, too”.
His left hand brushed over the top of her head, pushing it backward a little. As her head rocked back forward the little lime-green clippers met her forehead at center.
Slowly it was moved back over the top, pushing the quarter inch strands back and down to the floor. She smiled at the path down the center of her head, how it matched the sides.
Two quick passes of the little lime-green clippers, on either side of the center clipping, and her head was buzzed too a soft gentle fuzz. “Sandpaper” some would call it but to her it was the last presents of hair before the smooth soft skin.
He undid the cape, letting it fall to the floor in front of her.
Gently he brushed some clippings from the front of her blouse, she looked at him with a little “giggle”.
“Did not plan to go that far”, she thought to herself.
He spread the large white towel over her shoulder, straighten it out, and giving her a soft “pat”.
The hot water was turned on, slowly the steam begin to cover the mirror. The other towel was tossed into the steamy water, to absorb it’s warmth and wetness.
To warm her head and soften the small strands for removal.
Her head responded as he wrapped her head. The strands of hair were shorter than the times before, the warmth was closer to her scalp. Her skin was a soft red when the towel was removed and tossed back into the sink of warm running water.
He picked up the can of shaving cream and shook it. It rose to the top of her head and a gentle pile of white cream was expelled. He moved the can in a circle, as if he was building a mountain. A little tail rose from the top, as if it was a cherry on an ice cream sundae.
His hand began spreading the cream out over her clipped scalp. Slowly covering the little fuzz of hair, coating each strand to weaken them for the razor. With the pile spread over her scalp he begin placing smaller piles over her head.
They were spread to a thickness to cover the buzz, making her look as if she had short white hair, or a cap of cotton.
As he reached for the towel she gave him a smile.
“You’re next” she whispered to him.
He looked at her and gave her a wink.
He rang the towel out, leaving behind only the warmth.
It was laid to the back of her head and wrapped around like a turban. He let it sit longer than before, letting the warmth be absorbed into the cream covered buzz. Making the soft weaker.
Gently he pressed the towel around her head causing the warmth to be felt. Her eyes closed with pleasure.
As he removed the towel he gave her a soft kiss on her buzz.
A flicker of his tongue sent a chill down her spine. Her body shivered, shaking at its gentleness.
He spread another pile of white shaving cream over her buzz, this one circled building like a “KISS” candy. Little piles were made on the four corners of her head. Slowly they were spread out covering her head of fuzz for the last time.
A double-edge safety razor was being used.
“Would it shave her head any smoother”, she thought to herself.
He began in the back, as he tilted her head forward. His fingers pulled the skin below the hairline as the razor was pulled upward from it. Short strokes were taken, being rinsed under the cool water after each one. Two strokes were taken to reach the arch of her head, then a second path was begin from the hairline upward.
Her eyes looked, upward from her bent head, into the mirror at his concentration of his work.
He was skilled, as he told by her.
She knew she was not the first lady to be shaved by him.
But, did he shave them in this same way.
With this same concentration of the work!
Did he take pleasure as he was with her?
She watched as the razor become visible as it came from behind her right ear.
Slowly it moved up to where the barberette had stopped the coverless clippers the day before. She watched as her thoughts of other clippings and shavings danced in her mind.
The times she had laid in bed as her lovers, lovers of the blade and cream, cut her hair with scissors or clippers.
As they lathered her head for the “kiss” of the razor.
The night her girlfriend, Sandy, she had met on the board, sat on the floor next to her, slowly, wildly, cutting her five inches of hair close to the scalp.
How they laughed and giggled as two pre-teenage girls would.
How Sandy would toss each cutting into the air, as one would from the window of Times Square during a parade.
How Sandy would go “buzzzzzzzzzz” as the scissors went “crunch and snip” to her hair.
How she wondered if Sandy would be willing to let her do the same to her.
Too, enjoy the thrill of the “cutting”.
The time Dan had come by with his new rechargeable clippers.
He met her on the front lawn of her house and chased her around with it humming loudly for her neighbors to hear.
How he caught her and they wrestled to the ground, where he begin clipping her head.
How her neighbor stood watching, wondering if to call “911”.
They knew her to be wild and had seen her with her head in different forms of shaving.
But, never had they witnessed her being clipped.
Would he present a can of shaving cream and a razor!
She felt the soft touch of his fingers stroking the right side of her head.
“Are you getting it smooth?” she asked of him.
He smiled back her ……
He walked around to the left side of her head.
Again she watched as the razor shaved a path from behind her ear. Up to the arch of her head.
Soon, her head would look like the high-n-tight she had gotten the day before, only the sides and back were shaved smooth and the top was of soft white lather.
Lather soon to be removed, removing with it what buzz it covered.
She remembered the time she could not find a friend willing to engage her smoothness for her and she stood watching her own hand do the work she wanted another to do for her.
How her hands brought the clippers to her head, cutting a path down the middle to the back.
A path as if it was in “undecidedness”.
How strange it felt mowing her own hair to a buzz.
The feeling was different to when she was clipped by someone else.
The touch to the scalp was not the same.
There was no excitement, no pleasure, no chills running up and down the spine.
How washing her buzz was as if she was just washing her hair. The spreading of the lather just as if she was soaping her body.
It would be a long time, before she would play the barber on her own self.
His finger pulled her forehead down, as the razor begin its path down the center of her head. She watched as short strokes were made, as her eyes followed the razor to the cool running water.
To rinse the lather and buzz from it and down the pipe to unknown places.
Stroke after stroke made the mountain disappear leaving behind smoothness.
She began to think of her shaving his head, something she had done before on others.
But, never with the anticipation she had for shaving him.
It was strange the way she felt.
She had shaved some of her male friends before but the feeling was not this intense.
Her body did not have the feeling it was now having.
Her mind did not dance with images of her shaving them as it was doing now.
Her eyes caught the last stroke being taken. The thin strips of shaving cream showing the path of the razor over her head.
Criss crossing her scalp, as a child would draw a picture.
A warm towel was wrapped around her razored scalp, sitting until it cooled.
Her scalp began to tighten with the touch of the air.
Wetness was left on her scalp, where hair once was.
It was gleaming in the reflection of the bathroom’s lighting.
With the wetness toweled off he applied a sweet skin cream, to keep her scalp feeling smooth and soft.
To protect it, from the harms of the night.
Chapter VI – The “Good-bye”
After she had shaved his head, she started to put things away.
“No, that can wait until later”, he whispered in her ear. “We still have a long night before us”.
With that she looked at herself in the mirror.
Everything was perfect; the hair cut, the make-up, and her clothing.
Just as they had planned, only tonight she was going out with her head shaved smooth.
He had parked in the parking lot across from the art theater. “So all could see her upon their arrival”, he had said.
As they approached the ticket office she noticed the young lady in it was clipped very close to her scalp. Had she had lighter colored hair she would have looked shaved, like her. But, when they entered the lobby she was in for another surprise. She was not the only lady with a shaven head.
There were a number of women, of various ages, with shaven heads, buzzed heads, or some kind of clipped and/or shaven hair cut. There were few women with hair longer than their shoulders. Many of the men had buzzed or shaven heads. All dressed as they were, for an evening of the theater and dining out. As many women as she had seen, with their heads in some form of buzzed and/or shaven cut, back home, she had not seen this many in one evening or place at one time.
“Was this some kind of club”, she thought to herself!
As they mingled, sipping spring water, they were entertained by a group of musical performers, with an array of local and pop songs.
The performance lasted about two and a half hours, with a twenty minute intermission. Then, there was a short thirty minutes at the end, where the author of the performance answered questions from the audience. He spoke of his next play, how it would involve more actors and actresses. How he and the Art Theater had signed an agreement for the first performance to be there.
As they left for their dining event, she felt an amiable touch of the night’s warm air on her soft scalp. The full moon was lighting up the street corner, as they and the others departed the theater. Each couple, group, to journey to their place of adventure for the night. Theirs was to dine, and then to the club where the dancer had admired her hair cut of yesterday’s barber.
At the restaurant they were seated near the entrance, where the other diners would see her as they entered to dine and left wondering. As they were seated by the hostess, herself with a short “brush” cut, the eyes of the other diners begin gazing upon them. The older women with shock in their eyes; the older men some with wonderment in their eyes, others with disbelief. The younger women, some with a “if I had the nerve” glance, others shocked like the older women. The young men smiled, some with flickering of their eyebrows, others glancing to their dates.
Slowly their glaring eyes became her power. Her power to look back at them with the same glaring they were giving her. Soon, only the new diners were glancing at her, then only for a moment.
After a fun filled dinner they walked a few blocks to the strip of night clubs. As they passed each one they would stand, her in front of him, looking in. Some of the dancers would come to the door, others would stand a little back. Many would say to her “Way to go”, or simply give her the “thumbs up” sign. Few would comment badly of her haircut, one even told her she would, if only she could dance without a wig.
Finally they arrived at the night club she wanted to return to. The one with the dancer who admired her “high-n-tight” the night before. Would she find her new hair cut as interesting …..
She remembered the feeling she got when another dancer, Geo, brushed her fingers over her shortly clipped top. The shivers she received as Geo said, when she was fingering her shaven neck, “Only my pussy was smoother”.
As they entered the club her eyes searched for both, Geo and the other dancer whose name they did not know, nor get the night before. When they were seated the waitress remembered they from the night before.
“My, my, …..”, she purred, “you have gone and shaved your heads”.
She smiled, a little red-cheeked, as he ordered their drinks. When the drinks were brought to them, the waitress took a quick touch of her scalp. The dampness from the drinks were on her fingers, sending a chill across her scalp. As he paid he asked the waitress about the dancer from the night before. They were told she would be in in an hour, and had to go on stage when she did so.
The waitress recommended they sit in a booth, if they wanted her to sit with them tonight.
“The owner got pretty mad last night when she did not”, she told them. “It is club policy to do so”.
When Geo finished dancing she begin her mingling with the customers for tips. Her eyes would glance at them as she neared where they were seated. She slowly walked pass they with her head slowly turned towards them. When she reached the waitress they had a little conversation, and the waitress came and sat next to her.
“Geo asked if you were the same couple that was in here last night with the short crew cuts”, the waitress said. “I told her “yes”, but you had asked for Tia”.
They looked at Geo as she was looking at them. He looked at her and she shook her head in a short “yes”.
“Would you ask Geo to join us?” she told the waitress.
The waitress smiled and motioned for Geo to come over. He moved over a seat to let Geo sit between them. As the waitress left she looked at her and gave her head a soft cupping, and whispered in her ear “mmmmmmmmmm” and flicked her tongue around in her ear a little.
She had never let a woman do this to her, nor touch her in any sexual matter before. But, for some reason her mind was looking for other thrills that night. Even those from another woman.
As Geo sat she turned to her, “I must feel your head”.
They looked at each other and she leaned her head to Geo’s long tender fingers. Both of them gave a little “purr”, as Geo took a deep breath of pleasure.
“I thought my shaved pussy felt great”, Geo told her, “but your shaven head feels better”.
She looked at Geo’s eyes, there was a strange look of pleasure in them. A look she had seen many times in other women who had made her offers “for a night of fun and pleasure”.
As they sat talking Geo’s hand slowly stroked her leg, giving her a glance as to be asking “permission” to continue with its venture. She would just look at Geo, blinking her eyes as one would in saying a silent “yes”.
When the waitress brought Geo’s drink she informed them that “Tia would not be coming in tonight”. They looked at each other, then at Geo.
“That’s all right,” he told her, “Geo will be fine”.
They stayed until closing, some six hours later to 3am.
Their conversation centered around her head shaving, and why she did not shave the “other head of hair” below. Geo explained how neat and soft she felt each time she would shave herself, or someone would shave her. How much fun it was to be shaved by another person, and to shave another person.
Geo would say something when one of the other dancers would come by for a touch, of her shaven head. “Go find your own shaven head lady,” she would tell them sparklingly.
During their conversation Geo would ask him how it felt having a shaven headed lady to please him. He would smile and flick his eyebrows, up and down. She would give Geo a little “giggle”. They knew nothing had or would happen, but it was fun just making Geo think so.
Geo tried to advance her fingers lower, each time she felt her smooth scalp. But, she was told, “Only when undressed”. Geo would look at her as if she was asking, pleading, “if she had a chance for the night”.
As they drove home, minus Geo, they talked about the performance and the women there. The diners at the restaurant and the looks she received and gave back. Geo and her high hopes for a night with a shaven headed lady.
He asked her if she would have liked to have taken Geo upon her wish.
“The game was fun”, she told him. “I had never let another woman do what she did to me tonight. But, it felt sweet to be wanted by her”.
As they readied for bed, she came out the bathroom with nothing on. He noticed she was in need of a trim.
“I can give you a quick trim”, he said inquisitively.
She stood looking at him with a smug look on her face.
“I thought we were not to do such things”, she replied. “Besides summer is still a few weeks away”.
“Maybe then,” he asked in a praying way.
She smiled at him and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
The next morning they gave each other a head shaving, and had a cup of coffee. They would have breakfast at the airport while waiting for her flight home.
She wrote him, when she arrived home. telling him how much fun she had, and was pleased he was able to bring her fantasy to a reality for her. That she enjoyed their adventures after each hair cut, how she felt when her shaved her head that evening before going out. And, the feeling she had of wanting to shave his head.
She reminded him “summer was a few weeks away”. That there was a lake, with cabins to rent, a few miles from where she lived. “How nice it would be to think of another fantasy for us to fulfil”, she told him.