Flint

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“It’s just culture, not inherent to human nature.”  I heard Dr Robert Tamayo say as he approached the digsite.  

“You don’t think long healthy hair’s significance as a sign of female fertility makes it naturally the default prefered hairstyle for women and that periods of time where it isn’t have just been rare exceptions.”   Dr William Stewart argued back.

“Considering how little of human existence has been documented I think that there really isn’t enough evidence to say how frequently female haircutting has been common versus uncommon.”  Rob said before taking a swig of water.

“Well I think we can pretty safely assume that haircutting was uncommon among either gender during the paleolithic since they didn’t have scissors.  I would think it started in the bronze age.”  Bill dismissed the possibility then turned to me.  “How are the pottery fragments coming along Gail?”

“Slowly,” I admitted, looking up from my little square of dirt.  “The soil is almost the same color as the pottery, but I think this might be more than just the usual shard. I think I have most of the vessel here.”

“Excellent!” Bill enthused as he picked up his trowel.  “Just keep going slowly, we’re lucky enough not to be on too much of a time crunch this dig..”

“There is evidence that haircutting predated the invention of scissors.”  Rob stated as he picked up his own trowel.  “They had flint razors.”

“While a flint is sharp enough to cut hair,”  Bill conceded,  “there’s a huge difference between simply sharp enough to cut hair and having the precision to style hair well enough women would actually want a haircut.  I would expect the only haircuts given were out of necessity, say if something sticky got matted in it, or things like ritualistic sacrifice where the hair is just crudely cropped or shaved.”

“What brought the subject up?”  I asked as I straightened up and stretched, my back was beginning to feel how long I had been bent over the pot I was carefully picking and brushing soil away from.

“I mentioned to Bill that my wife was complaining that if she doesn’t lose the baby weight from the last one, she could just get her hair cut short and look like the Venus of Willendorf, and how I hastily just told her she was lovely and changed the topic because I wasn’t sure if she thought looking like the lady of Willendorf was a good thing or a bad thing.  So Bill said he thought Willendorf’s hair was braided.” Rob said, then asked.  “What do you think, does Willendorf look like her hair is cut or braided to you, or do you think she’s wearing a cap?”

It was a long standing debate.  Dr William Stewart, my thesis advisor, and Dr Robert Tamayo, another professor at my university, were hardly the first archeologists to weigh in on the subject.

“I’m torn between thinking it looks like a hat, but feeling that it probably isn’t since she isn’t wearing any other clothing.”  I said.  “Now I actually think Venus of Kostenki, the ivory one, looks more like she has short hair, though she seems to be wearing clothing so interpreting her as wearing a hat is a little more logical.”

“So you agree, women might have routinely gotten haircuts with flint?”  Dr Tamayo asked eagerly. hoping to get back up.  Probably thinking that my opinion as a woman might hold extra sway.

“I don’t know, maybe.”  I said, honestly not really sure.  “I do have some doubts about how comfortably and well hair could be cut with a flint.  It’s not like any of us have actually tried it since none of us are hairstylists, we’ve all knapped flint but don’t have the skills to then use the blades we’ve created for haircutting.”

“I shaved a bit of the hair off my arm once,”  Bill  announced.  “I cut myself, it was rather unpleasant.”

“In more skilled hands though, it would be fine.  I’ve seen people successfully shave with flint.”  Rob countered.  “And I’m pretty sure in skilled hands short but not crudely cropped hairstyles could be achieved. Short haircuts people would seek out.”

“I’m getting the feeling we should set this up as an experiment when we get back to campus.”  Bill suggested,

“Have I ever mentioned that my sister is a hairstylist?” 

“I thought your sister was a veterinarian?”

“My youngest sister is a vet,” Rob clarified.  “My middle sister is a stylist, she has her own salon, and I’m sure I could talk her into a little experiment.”

“Ok, so we provide flints and she cuts someone’s hair.”  Bill agreed.

“I’ll call her as soon as we’re back on campus, then we just need to figure out who’s hair she could cut considering neither you nor I really have enough to work with.”

“That’s what graduate assistants are for.”  Bill smiled at me.

“WHAT?!”  I asked as they both stared at me.  I looked down at the long sandy blonde sun-bleached braid that hung over my shoulder, as a slight dread came over me.

 

——————————————

 

I was checking over the camera we’d set up to document our little experiment for a 3rd time.  It was completely unnecessary, but I was trying not to let my nerves get the best of me, and distraction helped.  

Of course the camera was fine and ready, just like it had been the previous time I’d checked it.  I looked around the lecture hall for something else to distract myself, my eyes settled on the desk.  

Laid out on the desk were the tools we’d made.  Numerous variations on what we felt it was reasonably likely a paleolithic hairdresser would have had at their disposal.  There were several flint blades of various sizes and shapes we’d knapped, obviously those were the items we had the most direct archeological evidence of.  Then there were items that were more speculation.  We’d carved some combs from wood and bone.  We’d debated carving one from bone, since we wanted to be conservative in our speculation, but considering there was carved art work a bone comb didn’t feel like a leap.  We’d attached wood and leather handles to a few of the blades.  One Bill had wedged multiple shards into a wooden handle to make a longer blade.

In front of the desk, we’d put down an old blanket, since we figured it was unlikely that paleolithic humans had used stools or chairs, but had probably found a comfortable spot in the grass and put down a mat to sit on when doing haircuts.  I was thinking, out on grass probably would be more comfortable than the blanket that barely cushioned the hard lecture hall floor, but the lecture hall was preferable anyway.  For starters, it had rained hard last night and the ground was still very wet.  It also was more private than the quad.  I was still staring down at the blanket when I finally heard voices approaching.

“…but you didn’t mention that it was in the archeology department.”  A voice that sounded familiar complained.  

“It’s not going to kill you if we bump into your ex.  Do you have any idea of how many of my exes still come to the shop?  You know staying friends with exes is a big part of lesbian culture.”  An unfamiliar voice grumbled.  “And we probably won’t bump into her, we’re here to do my brother a favor.”

“It ended really badly.”  The familiar voice pleaded as the sour feeling in my already knotted stomach grew worse.

“Shhhush.”  The unfamiliar voice said very close to the door,  “just act professional, it will be fine.”

The door opened.  Standing there was a very butch heavily tattooed woman, with short black hair styled in a quif and with designs carved into the sides, who bore a superficial resemblance to Professor Tamayo.  Next to her stood Sarah.

 

*****************************************

I remembered back to meeting Sarah.  She’d been a freshman business major getting a humanities general education requirement credit out of the way, and I was in my first year of post graduate work with a fellowship and a position as a graduate assistant to Professor Stewart who I had taken several classes with as an undergraduate.  Dr William Stewart left the boring parts of teaching the class to me.  Bill would come in and do the lectures, but I graded all the tests and papers; I was the person the students would go to with questions first.

Sarah sat three rows back and just barely paid attention.  She dressed on the slutty side of immature and wore tons of inexpertly applied make up.  She did elaborate hairstyles that never lasted more than 15 minutes.  She was lackadaisical about keeping her mask up over her nose.  She looked tired half the time.

Everything about her screamed sheltered kid who suddenly has freedom and goes way over the top.  I knew the type way too well.  Their parents always placed so much control on them that they never needed to learn any self restraint, so as soon as they don’t have their parents constant supervision they just go completely wild.  

They go from zero to 60 without learning to drive first.  From having never had a half glass of wine at a holiday dinner to chugging vodka.  From having to wear what was practically a uniform their parents selected without even asking what color they liked to whatever is cheap or that they can borrow from other kids in the dorm.  Never being allowed to wear makeup, so when they do they have no idea how to pick the right colors and apply it well.  And of course, never dating.

It was something I didn’t want to deal with, but I found myself way too attracted to Sarah anyway.  It was definitely a bad case of the heart wants what the heart wants, and forget that you know it’s a bad idea.  I figured I could just manage it as a crush I would never act on for a bunch of reasons, so I just pushed all my feelings down.

It was several weeks in when that plan changed.  She had worn ridiculous amounts of rainbow everything.  She very pointedly showed off her manicure with all her nails long except for her pointer and middle finger on her right hand, which were short as she handed me her essay to grade.

“I’m pretty sure that the young lady with the rainbow top was trying to flirt with you.”  Bill said as we walked toward his office.  “And I have a feeling the attraction is mutual.”

“What would make you think I’m gay.”  I asked, trying to sound calm as my stomach twisted.

“Sorry,” Bill said, “I assumed you were out.”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“There was that friend of yours a couple of years ago I suspected was more than just a friend from the way you each smiled when she came and picked you up after every single class.  Then you and her would practically skip out of class holding hands”  Bill pointed out.

“I thought my ex and I were being discreet since we never kissed in public.”

“Not really,” Bill chuckled.  “The way you keep looking at that young lady in the rainbow top is a really big tip off too.”

“Don’t worry,”  I assured him, “I know it’s inappropriate for me to date students.”

“What would make you think that?”  Bill asked with surprise.  “You are a student, of course you can date other students.”.  

“But I’m a GA, so I’m both a student and faculty.”  I pointed out.  “They gave me a sticker for the faculty parking garage and everything.  And I’m grading her papers.”

“It’s not like you’re a middle aged highschool teacher and she’s a minor.  There isn’t a major disparity in power,”  Bill countered.  “And there isn’t a huge age difference, you’re only 3 or 4 years older than the freshmen.  Come to think of it, didn’t you start early?  So more like only 2 years older than many of them.  Admittedly, you are rather mature for your age, and she looks a bit immature for her age, but that’s just personality.”

“Are you sure?”  The tight lid I had kept over my crush suddenly cracked, and I realized how strong it was.

“As long as she is over 18, since you aren’t directly in charge of her, it’s fine.”  Bill assured me.  “Let me have her answer to today’s essay question, and I’ll take over grading her papers.  Actually, give me a few of them so that I have something to compare it to. It’s been ages since I had to slog through freshmens’ papers.  Then you are free to date her.”

*****************************

 

“Hi Sarah.” I said as I watched the color drain from her face.

 

———————————————————————

 

“Nicky!”  Dr Robert Tamayo called as he came in a door on the opposite side of the lecture hall.

I’m sure we’d only actually been standing there, Sarah and I staring at each other in an awkward form of hell, the butch woman looking back and forth between us uncomfortably sizing up the situation, for a couple of minutes at most, but it had felt like hours.  I turned away from Sarah in relief.

“Hey Robby,” Rob’s sister called to him cheerfully.  “So, what exactly am I working with here?”

“We have some nice sharp flints here.”  Rob gestured to the desk, as Bill walked in.  “Oh, and this is my colleague Dr William Stewart, we just call him ‘Bill.’  And I see you have already met Bill’s graduate assistant, Gail.”

I watched the three of them chat and go through the tools trying to not think about Sarah.  The feeling of being watched was nagging on me though.  I turned and checked over my shoulder, and caught Sarah quickly looking away.  

Sarah had changed. She looked much more mature.  Her makeup was much more subtle and well applied.  Though her clothing wasn’t exactly conservative, it was coordinated and looked like it was chosen for more than just how little skin it covered.  Her long messy hair had been cut into a neat bob.  Even though it was around 10 am, she didn’t have bags under her eyes, she didn’t look hungover.

I turned back and tried to pay attention to what was going to be happening soon.  What was going to be happening to ME soon.

“So you don’t want me to use anything modern.”  Nicky said.  “How about wetting her hair first?  The blades will tug less.”

“Well that seems like something paleolithic people would do.”  Bill said while nodding.  “Just make sure that it is done in a way that is consistent with the way it could have been done at the time.  Like pouring it from a cup.”

“Sarah,”  Nicky called as she looked to her, “Can you grab a towel from the bag and take….”

“Gail.”  Bill filled in.

“….to the bathroom and do that, wet her hair by pouring the water over it.”  Nicky continued.  “While they’re doing that, can I practice with these tools on a manikin I brought?”

I wondered if things went badly enough with the manikins, would I be off the hook and just get to keep my long hair?  I wasn’t going to get to wait and see though, I had to go find a cup to use to wet my hair with.  I turned from the conversation that Rob, Bill and Rob’s sister were having, and watched a sullen Sarah begin walking to one of the bags next to the door.  I realized that we were either going to spend the next couple of hours both feeling awkward, or I could try to break the tension.

“You look good.” I said to her as we entered the hallway.  “I like your haircut.”

“Thanks.” Sarah said shyly as she followed me down the hall.  “Nicky convinced me I needed something easier to style a few months ago.”

“You never really did know what to do with your hair.”  I reminisced.

I remembered her trying to figure out how to use a curling iron she’d spent too much money on and not really knowing how.  She said her parents had never let her do anything other than wear her hair “the way god intended,” which seemed to mean long, uncut, and in a plain style.  She’d quoted about hair being a girl’s crowning glory, as an explanation as to why she’d never had a haircut before she’d let one of the girls in the dorm give her layers by just putting her hair in a ponytail at her forehead and cutting a few inches off.  The clumsy hair curling was her attempt to get done up before heading to a party.  A party I didn’t think she should be going to, a party that shouldn’t have been happening at all.  She kept insisting that she’d keep her mask on and it was outdoors so it would be fine.  She convinced me to go along, I’d been horribly uncomfortable the entire time.

“I suppose that’s true.”  Sarah admitted instead of fighting me.  “How are we doing this?”

“I figure we should go grab a cup from Bill’s office,”  I said, “then head to the lady’s room at the end of the hall.”

“Ok,” Sarah said quietly.

We walked in awkward silence towards the offices.  I glanced over at Sarah occasionally, the discomfort written on her face.

“Listen.” She finally broke the silence as I took out my key to the door to Dr Stewart’s office.  “I’m really really sorry about what I did.”

I sighed and opened the door to the office, and grabbed a mug.  Sarah waited by the door looking embarrassed.  She’d obviously been holding onto the guilt for the year and a half since the last time I’d seen her.

 

***********************************

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”   Sarah had begged as she put on dark lipstick that would soon be smudged inside her mask.

“It’s a school night babe, I need to get up early.”  I’d said watching her get ready from the edge of her dorm room bed where I sat.  “You need to get up too.  Besides, it’s going to be indoors and crowded. It’s even more likely to turn into a super spreader event than the last party you dragged me to. Why don’t we go to my apartment and find something on Netflix.”

“We’re young,”  she reminded me as she smacked her lips and redid the messy bun her long hair was in.  “We should be out enjoying life.”

“I just really can’t.”

“Fine, I’ll go by myself.”  Sarah announced, grabbing her mask and heading out the door with it still in her hand.  “See you later.”

I sighed, and put on my own mask before stepping out into the public hallway.  I stood there watching Sarah locking her door, hoping she’d change her mind and come to my apartment instead.

“HEY!” another student shouted at Sarah as they passed us.  “Put on your mask before the entire dorm ends up in quarantine.”

“Sure you won’t come to my place.”  I tried again as Sarah finally put on her mask while rolling her eyes at the other student.

“I’m going to that party.”  Sarah insisted.  “If you change your mind I’ll be there.”

I started walking across campus towards my car.  It was a long walk since the faculty parking garage was not near the dorms.  The walk gave me time to start thinking about Sarah alone at the party.  As much as I had no desire to be at a party on a wednesday night with people who weren’t taking the pandemic seriously, I hated the idea of Sarah at it with just a few irresponsible friends from the dorm.  Maybe if I was there, I could get her to not get quite as drunk and not stay out quite so late.  

I hadn’t bothered to write down the address of the party, so it took me a bit of searching emails and texts to find the right place.  By the time I got there, Sarah had probably been there for an hour or more already.  

“Hey,” I said when I spotted a couple of Sarah’s friends standing just past the entrance, their masks pulled down under their chins as they sipped their drinks.  “Where’s Sarah?”

“Oh… uhmm…. I don’t know.”  She said as her eyes avoided mine,  “Maybe she left already.”

“Yeah I think she left.”  Sarah’s other friend agreed rather unconvincingly with a giggle as her eyes darted towards the back.

I wasn’t sure why they were lying to me at the time but I could tell they were.  I figured maybe they just thought I was a party pooper.  So I headed in the direction their eyes had been darting in.

My eyes looked around the room, back and forth searching for the face I knew. I must have looked at her 4 or 5 times before my brain registered what I was seeing.  When I finally focused on her, my heart dropped.

Sarah was sitting with some guy, her back to me as she made out with him.  Her hair had fallen out of the messy bun, hanging down her back, his grubby hands up in it.

“Sarah?!”

She turned towards me, looking drunk, looking guilty.  She clumsily wiped at her mouth, trying to clean off the smeared lipstick and spittle.

“Gail,”  She slurred, “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“That’s pretty obvious.”  I observed and turned to walk away.

“GAIL! GAIL! WAIT!”  Sarah stumbled after me as I made my way towards the exit.  “I’M SORRY!  PLEASE WAIT! GAIL! I’M SORRY!”

I didn’t pause till I was outside in the cool night air.

“Sarah, I’m done.”  I affirmed as I turned towards her.  “I’m just not doing this anymore.”

“But I love you.”  Sarah claimed as she swayed and almost lost her footing.  “Please I’m sorry.  Just stay, have a few drinks, we can have some fun together.”

I sighed again.  I couldn’t believe she was actually trying to talk me into staying at this petri dish of a party.

“Sarah,”  I spoke clearly so it would sink in even though she was obviously quite drunk.  “I mean it, I’m done.”

I turned and walked away towards my car.

“GAIL! PLEASE! I’M SORRY!”

***************************************

 

“I know,”  I said as I pulled the door closed behind me, “you told me before.”

“I was drunk.”

“I know.”  I said simply as we walked towards the lady’s room.  “Getting drunk was a choice.”

“I haven’t gotten drunk like that in over a year.”  She claimed as we entered the lady’s room.

“I’m glad to hear that.”  It was the truth, but I wasn’t going to let it change things.

“I’ve grown a lot.”  She pressed on.

“I can tell.”  I admitted as I glanced over at her looking so much more put together, then changed topics since I was sick of hearing it.  “Why are you here with Dr Tamayo’s sister?”

“I have a part time job at her barbershop, three days a week.”  Sarah stated casually.  “I think she mostly dragged me along because she had too much stuff to carry on her motorcycle and couldn’t borrow her wife’s car today.  And I have a parking decal.”

“Did you say ‘barbershop’?”  I asked nervously.  “Dr Tamayo said his sister was a hairstylist with a salon.”

“Nicklas and Nichole’s is a bit of a cross between a salon and barbershop.”  She informed me.  “Nicky, Angel, and Pat are barbers; but Klaus, Tom, Rachel, and Sean are cosmetologists.  There’s a receptionist, a manicurist and a few assistants too, so very salon like, but they call it a barbershop.”

“Well that just makes this that much better,”  I slipped into sarcasm, as I looked at my long hair in the mirror.

Though I hadn’t voiced an objection to being the person the experiment was going to be run on, that was only because I hadn’t wanted to sound like a wimp.  I was really not looking forward to a paleolithic hairdo.  I liked my hair the way it was. It was a sandy blonde that had lightened in the sun.  It was long, long enough to put into braids to get it off my neck.  It curled delightfully when loose, so it tended to rest about halfway down my ribcage most of the time, but I could stretch it down to my waist.  Having it cut by a hairstylist sounded bad enough, chopped off by a barber sounded even worse.  Though I suppose either way the style being aimed for was the same, so it didn’t really matter.

I started filling the mug with water and bent down over the sink.  I began to pour the water on the loose ends of my long hair.

“I’m supposed to be doing that.”  Sarah suddenly remembered, and reached to help.

I noticed her nails, they were all short and neat, with a pretty shade of simple blue polish unchipped on them.  It made me think of the argument we’d had about them.

 

******************************************

“But I like them long and polished.  I only just got to grow them, my mom always made me keep them short and never let me polish them.” Sarah had complained when I told her they needed to be trimmed and cleaned before we went to bed together.  “The pointer and middle finger on my dominant hand  are short.  The internet says it’s fine.”

I had a sinking suspicion the internet lesbians Sarah had consulted were very young and very inexperienced like she was, and didn’t fully appreciate how messy sex could get.  Times that more than those two fingers were involved were common, and generally better.

“First, the nails on those two fingers may be shorter than the rest, but they aren’t short enough.”  I went over it gently hoping she’d listen, but mostly thinking it was too soon and she was too young, no matter how eager Sarah was.  If she wasn’t mature enough to handle needing to cut her nails, was she really ready for the emotional fallout of sex?  “Second, it’s much better if you aren’t limited to those two fingers.  Third, I’m not saying you can never wear polish, but that rainbow glitter stuff you have on is scratchy as hell, and very chipped and flaking.  I just don’t want it inside me.”

“I’ll be careful.”  Sarah pouted.

“I really don’t think you’re ready, babe.”  I said with a sigh.  “Listen, there’s no rush.  Your first time should be memorable for the right reasons, not the wrong ones.”

“I’m an adult.  Please, don’t treat me like a child.” 

I held my tongue and didn’t retort -If you don’t want to be treated like a child, then stop acting like one.- Instead I sighed and stroked her long hair that hadn’t held the curls she’d tried to put in earlier.  She was 19, she’d legally been an adult for slightly over a year.  I’d been a lot younger than her when I’d lost my virginity.

“Next weekend,”  I’d suggested.  “We’ll make a whole day of it, make it really special.  I’ll treat you to a mani-pedi at the nice spa just north of campus, and we can get a nice light dinner.  Ok?”

“Ok,”  Sarah said, with just a hint of disappointment that we weren’t going to be popping her cherry that night.  “But I still want to keep most of them long.”

When the night came, I just focussed on making it really great for Sarah and accepted it was probably going to be a little unfulfilling for me since she was only going to have 2 fingers to work with.

***************************************

 

“That’s a really pretty color of nail polish.”  I said as Sarah pulled the towel around my shoulders.

“Manicures are one of the perks of the job.”  Sarah said casually as she started refilling the cup.

“Why are you working at a salon anyway?” I asked, genuinely curious.  “I’m assuming it wasn’t just to annoy your parents.”

“No.  I wanted to work somewhere I could be totally out.”  She said as she started gently guiding my head over the sink.  “Nicklas & Nichole’s is one of the only two queer spaces in town, and the only one that would hire someone under 21.  I suppose I could have quit and gotten a job at the gay bar after my birthday, but I liked everyone and the hours were good, so I stayed.”

“So you really weren’t just a bi-curious straight girl.”  I observed.

“Why would you think I was bi-curious?”  Sarah asked with hurt in her voice.  “You weren’t an experiment, I had real feelings for you.”

“I’m sorry.  All my friends kept warning me about dating a freshman.”  I apologized.  “Then you were kissing that guy, so…. It felt like they might have been right.”

“You broke up with me because your friends said I was bi-curious?”  Sarah’s voice cracked as she paused pouring the water.

“I broke up with you because I was sick of dealing with the irresponsible behavior,”  I explained.  “And because you were cheating on me.  I’d have broken up with you if it had been a girl you’d been making out with too.”

“I guess that’s fair.”  Sarah admitted as she went back to wetting my hair.  “Honestly, it would have felt more like cheating to me if it had been with a girl, than that frat boy.”

“Why were you kissing some guy?”  I asked.

“One of my friends said I wasn’t really a lesbian and that I would realize it as soon as I kissed a boy.  When I argued back that I didn’t need to, she dared me.  And hey you just have to after being dared, right?”  Sarah confessed in an embarrassed tone.  “Needless to say, he was eager to volunteer.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard.” I let out with a snort.

“Yeah, I know.”  Sarah muttered.  “I was really drunk.  And I hung out with too many assholes.”

“If they were assholes, why did you hang out with them?”  I asked.

Sarah tilted my head the other way and cupped her hand over my ear so the water she was pouring over my hair wouldn’t go into it.  It was weird doing this activity that was strangely intimate with my ex.

“I think I might have been an asshole too, but you just were nice enough to let it slide.   Well, at least till you’d had enough and broke up with me.”  Sarah said, then announced as she put down the mug on the side of the sink,  “I think you’re pretty evenly damp at this point.”

I lifted my head up and faced the mirror, I looked like a drowned rat, with my wet hair hanging in clumps around me.   Sarah put her hand on my shoulder and turned me to face her.  She lifted the corners of the towel and started blotting the rivulets of water that had begun to dribble down my forehead.  She smiled as she looked into my eyes.  I looked into her eyes, they were dark chocolate brown, and I felt like I could fall into them, just as I’d remembered.

An urge to reach out, to pull her in, to hold her, to kiss her; I resisted it.  She was right, she’d been an asshole.  It hadn’t been that I’d let it slide because I was nice, I’d ignored it because I’d been so infatuated with her.  I wasn’t falling into that this time, I could be sensible.  I blinked and looked away.

“Ready?”  Sarah asked me.

“Not like I have much choice at this point,” I said, not bothering to force a fake smile. “I’m committed to a very out of date dorky haircut.  Hopefully it will grow out quickly.”

“Why do you think Nicky will give you an outdated style?”  Sarah furrowed her brow. “She does pretty cool stuff most of the time, even if she is a bit terrifying.”

“The point of the experiment is to see if a particular style based on a paleolithic carving was realistically achievable with the tools that existed at the time.”  I explained.  “So yeah, I’m getting a haircut that may have been all the rage 30,000 years ago.  Though we aren’t sure if it was short hair, braided hair, or a hat.”

“Why did you volunteer if you didn’t want a haircut?”  Sarah asked.

“The professors were so excited about doing the experiment, how could I say no?”

“So you’re still teachers’ pet, huh?”

“Hmmmm, I guess,” I conceded reluctantly.

“Well, you’re so pretty, maybe you’ll make this 30,000 year old do look so good it will come back.”  Sarah suggested light heartedly.

I found myself blushing and smiling,  I broke eye contact and looked at my feet.  The feelings were still there no matter how badly I didn’t want them to be.  I had to admit to myself, the lingering feelings really had been there the whole time. I’d dated other women after I had broken up with Sarah, but it had felt empty, there’d been no spark.  I looked back up at Sarah, as painful as it was to admit, the spark was still there.

I didn’t want to fall for her again.  It had taken so long to get over her.  It had hurt so much when we’d broken up.  After I’d walked away from her yelling apologies at me and gotten in my car, I’d only managed to drive 2 blocks before I’d had to pull over because I was crying so hard I couldn’t see.

I turned away from Sarah and the feelings I didn’t want to face.

“We should get going.”  I announced as I started walking towards the door.  “They’ll be ready to start soon.”

 

——————————————————————

 

When we got back to the lecture hall, it was obvious that they’d started trying things out.  A manikin head on a stand was on the desk, and Bill was running the camera.  There was already cut off wet manikin hair scattered around the floor next to the desk.  Rob’s sister was talking about the relative comfort and control of various tools.  

“Ah, Gail,”  Rob smiled as he noticed we were back.  “Everything is going great.  That handle you made is working very well.”

“Wonderful.”  I said, pretending that I meant it instead of being disappointed that the experiment wasn’t over prematurely.  

“So Nicky, have you practiced enough?” Bill asked, ”Is it time to try on a person?”

“I’m pretty comfortable with the tools.”  She said.  “The blades are sharp enough that they are cutting cleanly and not tugging and tearing.  It’s not that different from using a straight razor.  Can I see photos of that little statue again?”

There were a couple of laptops set up, one showed what was being recorded.  Bill pulled up the Lady of Willendorf on the other.  There were several images on the screen, most focused on her head with the tight cap of carved squiggles that was so open to interpretation.

“That’s perfect.”  Nicky said then looked at me expectantly.  “It helps that you have curly hair, so it will look like the rippled texture.  Ready?”

I just nodded, and grit my teeth before I headed over to the blanket.  I felt a little unsure, as I lowered myself down and sat criss-cross-applesauce on the blanket.  It was strange not having a mirror to see what was happening as Nicky came behind me.  

“Oh,” Nicky added. “What about a cape?”

I was already feeling like I looked ridiculous being filmed sitting on a blanket with wet hair that was going to be hacked off, the idea of adding a modern barber cape to that was just too embarrassing.  I’d chosen the thin spaghetti strap tank top specifically because I had figured the bare shoulders would look less out of place than a nerdy t-shirt.

“It doesn’t seem like something they would have used,” I said.  “I don’t care if you get a little hair on my clothing.  I dressed for this.”

“Ok,” Nicky agreed, as she lowered herself to the blanket and got comfortable.

I was stiff and nervous at first, but Nicky didn’t immediately start cutting.  At first she just gently combed out my hair.  I closed my eyes, and just let it happen, feeling the gentle tugs, Nicky’s hand occasionally pressing against me.  Grooming is an ancient bonding ritual, going back through the millennia to before humans were even human. 

I was very calm and barely thinking about it, when Nicky put down the comb and picked up a flint blade.  I might not have noticed what was going on till after she started, if Rob hadn’t said something.

“Nicky, remember to narrate what you’re doing so we can document it.”  Rob instructed. “And Gail, Any observations so far?”

“The detangling part felt pretty much the same as it does with a good quality modern comb.” I simply stated, leaving out philosophising on the mutual grooming habits of primates and other social mammals.

“The comb is good for detangling,”  Nicky observed, “but it is a little awkward for things like sectioning, which is also necessary for braided styles.  But doing it with fingertips works fine, and a clean pointy stick would also work fine.”

The conversation went back and forth between Nicky, Rob, and Bill.  Rob and Bill asking questions, Nicky answering them and frequently parting my hair this way and that to show what she meant by the answers.  Then finally dividing my hair into three sections, one section that hung down my back, and then the two that hung in front of my shoulders that she twisted to stay in place since she obviously couldn’t use clips.  She talked about how just twisting was something some modern stylists just did because it felt more convenient to them than clips.  

I probably should have been actively participating in the conversation, but instead I was only passively barely paying attention.  I was distracted by two things; my dread that Nicky was about to just start slicing away at my hair but trying to not show that dread; and Sarah’s steady gaze from those big brown eyes.

God, she was just as pretty as she had been when I’d fallen for her, and the added level of maturity and put-togetherness just helped.  Her gaze was filled with sorrow, and longing, and regret.  I knew that having her back was an option if I would just take it.

I was only barely prepared when I felt the first lock of hair from the crown of my head held taut.  Then the cutting began.  There was a slight tug as the flint blade sawed through the lock making the barest whisper of a sound.  Nicky casually dropped the cut off lock to the side on the floor next to the blanket.

I turned from Sarah’s gaze and looked down at my lock of hair. It didn’t look like much there on the dirty floor, it was dark with wetness, the curl limp from combing out.  I felt Nicky’s fingers twirling the short hair left behind as she explained she was trying to enhance the curl to make it match the statue.

“Gail, was it uncomfortable?” Bill asked me.

Of course it was uncomfortable, I have lovely long hair that girls fawn over, and now a big chunk of it is just waiting for the rest to join it and be discarded.  It isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s heartbreaking.  I looked up at Bill, my advisor who had just assumed I wouldn’t care about cutting off the long hair.  I knew he wasn’t asking about if I was sad that he volunteered me for this experiment, He’d just assumed I’d be just as enthusiastic to participate as I was in previous projects.

“It didn’t hurt or anything.”  I gave the answer that was what he really wanted to know about.  “It tugged a bit but not unpleasantly.  Women regularly do much more painful things like plucking their eyebrows, or waxing their legs.”

“So much more comfortable than many other grooming customs.”  Bill concluded.  “How different is it from when you usually get your haircut?”

“I don’t usually really get it cut,”  I sighed.  “Usually I just get an inch trimmed for split ends.”

It had been around 15 years since the last time I’d had what really counted as a haircut.  My mom had been convinced by a friend that it would be easier to deal with the curls she didn’t really understand if my hair was cut short, since the curls were all at the ends.  Her friend seemed to think that if one just cut off the curly ends the straighter hair above would stay that way.  And of course stacked bobs were the big thing at the time.  She bribed me into complying and told me it was going to be so cute.  

What she discovered was that without the long ends to weigh down the curls my whole head was curly.  Mom still didn’t understand the curls, and would brush my hair instead of just trying to detangle it without breaking up the curl pattern.  Plus she washed my hair way too often and didn’t use enough conditioner.  The options were the whole thing poofed upinto tangled frizz, or mom had to use a straightening iron daily.  It had not been easier.

“Sarah,” Nicky called out.  “Can you bring me my razor so that I can use it as a comparison to the flint blade.”

Sarah did as asked, and handed it over the closed object to Nicky while giving me an apologetic look.  She was the only person in the room who understood how reluctantly I was just going along with this.

“I’ll cut a bit a little long with the razor, so I can recut it with the flint.”  Nicky said as I felt her fingers separate a lock next to the one she’d already cut.

I felt the slicing and heard the whisper of the blade severing my hair once again.  Then another lock of my hair was dropped to the side.  I could see the new lock wasn’t quite as long as the one it was dropped next to.

Then everyone was looking way too closely at the top of my head and comparing the lock that had been cut with the modern razor blade to the flint.  It was weird, feeling like a specimen on display.  

“Did it feel different?”  Bill asked me.

“Not noticeably.”  I answered trying to think of something more detailed to say, but I was just too distracted to really think about details.

After everyone had looked at the severed locks from every angle imaginable, Nicky recut the lock she’d cut with the razor with the flint at the length she seemed to think Willendorf’s hair might have been.  Then of course she twirled what remained of the lock to revive the curl.

Nicky cut another lock, and dropped it on the little pile that I knew would be huge by the end of this.  She would switch tools every now and then, commenting about how comfortable they were to use and how well she felt like she could control them.  I sat there, as I felt the locks being sawn off, as the pile of locks grew next to me.

Mostly, I just occasionally commented that I didn’t really notice a difference from one tool to the next.  The exception was the one where my hair got caught between the handle and the blade and it tugged painfully.  Nicky and Rob, who had made the handle, apologized while Nicky used the modern scissors to cut the caught hair free.  Then recut it with a different flint blade.

As my hair began to dry, Nicky sent Sarah to go get more water.  Nicky dipped her fingers in the water and dampened just the lock she was about to cut.  Then she’d cut it and once again twirl it to revive the curl.

As I looked at the massive pile of long curls, I wondered how it was possible I still had the hair I could feel hanging down my back. but then I felt that last hair being removed.  Differently than before, this time instead of holding the hair out from my head, Nicky had dampened it down against my neck.  She said something about making sure it was wet enough to slip easily, then scraped the flint blade down against my neck.  She said “cutting a soft perimeter.” 

The damp cut off hair just clung to my neck as Nicky fussed with shaping the hairline.  After a bit she gathered the long locks up and pulled them away, but there were shorter bits of hair I could still feel clinging.  

“Would there have been something like a towel to wipe off her neck with?”  Nicky asked Rob and Bill.

That of course got them telling Nicky all about the evidence of spindle whorls and flax and thistle fibers,  By the time Nicky decided that they were never going to say either yes or no definitively and decided to just wipe off my neck anyway, the hair had dried to my neck, and the wiping seemed to just knock it loose to fall on my shoulder and inside my tank top, which was rather itchy.

“Ok,” Nicky stated a bit firmly.  “I’m going to need you to turn now, so that I can work on the sides.  Can you face the back of the room?”

I got up, turned, and sat back down.  I was now facing the monitors of the computer.  I could see both the video of myself being recorded, and the image of Willendorf.  Instead of going back to sitting criss cross, I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them, letting my weight rest on them.  Without the weight on my back, I realized how tense the muscles back there were.  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and let it out.

I opened my eyes when I felt Nicky untwist the hair on the side of my head and start to spread the long still very slightly damp curls over my shoulder.  I looked up at the monitor, it acted a bit like a mirror.  Since the back of my head was obscured, I still just looked like I had all my pretty long hair.  I had an urge to put a stop to the haircut and just keep it, but I knew it was really already too late.  All the hair from the back of my head was gone.  It wasn’t even like I could ask for it to just be left as an undercut, I’d felt it being cut, Nicky had started way up at the crown of my head. 

I watched as Nicky lifted a lock, pulled it out and slightly forward, and began slicing it with the flint blade.  I watched her place the severed lock on the pile behind me.  Then she was twisting it to revive the curl.  I looked at the monitor contemplating the little curl that hung about halfway down my ear.  Nicky soon cut another one to join it.  

As I watched my hair getting sliced off, I was mostly thinking it looked boring.

“Ok, here’s an observation, it would be a lot easier with a chair.”  Nicky said as she stretched her back.  “Sure they didn’t use chairs?”

“We aren’t sure,”  I said, “but it seems pretty unlikely.  They probably were just a lot more used to doing things sitting on the ground.”

“Well, I’m going to need you to turn again.”  Nicky said, “unless you want to be a walking before and after.”

I gave a brief nod and got up and did a 180.  I ended up facing the place where Nicky had been putting most of the hair she’d cut off, my sandy colored curls.  Nicky began to slice away at the hair on the other side of my head.  I watched the pile grow, as Nicky made the left side of my head match the right.

“Ok, can you turn to face me,” Nicky requested.

The first thing Nicky did when I was facing her, was check to see if both sides were the same, and commented on how she would have done so multiple time as she cut if I’d been in a chair that was easy to walk around, and especially in a barber chair or stylist chair that could swivel.  She then seemed to want to make some very subtle adjustments and was acting frustrated,

“With shears, I could take just an eighth of an inch off of one side if I needed to,” she explained.  “With this flint, it’s hard to take off anything less than a half an inch.”

Was Nicky saying my hair was going to be uneven?

“Can I have a really small, fairly straight piece of flint, without a handle?” Nicky asked Rob, who went to the desk to pick one out.  “This larger one is good for working on the interior, but I’d like something more precise for the perimeter.”

I watched Nicky take a small flake of flint from her brother.  She then dipped her fingers in the water and dampened the hair right around my face.  She looked over at the pictures of the little statue she was copying, and began to use the flake to chip off the hair right against my face, which was rather terrifying.

Nicky must have sensed my trepidation, because she said “Relax, I do this with razor blades all the time.”

“To be fair,” I commented as she turned my head to get a good angle to cut my sideburn, “I would still find that pretty terrifying.”

“Can we just stand so I can look over everything?”  Nicky requested as she tilted my head the other way to make my other sideburn match the one she’d already done.

“That is something they might have done.”  Bill concluded. “Just give me a minute to adjust the camera.”

Nicky got up slowly, stretching her legs carefully.  I suspected one of her feet fell asleep from the way she was moving.  I got up too, and took the time to feel the sideburns Nicky had shaped with the tiny blade.  They were shorter but still soft and wispy.

When Bill had finished adjusting the camera, Nicky had me stand and redid the hair along my neck with the tiny flint blade, the blade scraping down my skin, I suspected shaving some of it smooth.  Standing, she turned me back and forth, making tiny adjustments.  Eventually she put down the flint, and was instead arranging the curls which felt like they were drying swiftly.

“There we are.”  Nicky announced as she twisted one last curl that was resting on my ear to face the other way.  “I think that’s a pretty reasonable interpretation of how the original model for that little Venus figurine might have worn her hair.”

I started to raise my hand up to feel the cut, but Nicky swiftly said, “Don’t mess up the curls,” before my hand got anywhere near it.  So, I got to just stand there, with only having seen what it looked like briefly on a small screen, and only having gotten to feel the sideburns briefly while Nicky, Bill, and Rob talked about my hair.

Nicky, Rob, and Bill talked about whether or not my hair matched the Lady of Willendorf’s maybe hair as I stood there and occasionally turned.  Nicky even drew a face and ears onto a print out of Willendorf to demonstrate why she felt my hair should hang to halfway down my ear.  Bill made attempts to draw me into the conversation, but being on display was making me feel shy, plus watching Sara cleaning up was a bit of a distraction.  

When the discussion was over, and Nicky went over to Sarah.  Finally free from being on display, my hand went up to feel my abbreviated curls.  Sarah put her head next to Nicky and spoke too softly for me to hear.  Nicky looked over at me, then patted Sarah on the shoulder, nodded, and said something back at the same inaudible level.

“Rob, Bill, if you guys have taken enough pictures,” Nicky said authoritatively, her voice projecting across the lecture hall, “I thought Gail might want to come back to the shop so I can update her a little bit.  Don’t get me wrong Gail, you look adorable, but do you want something a little younger, less conservative?”

“Oh,” I stammered. “I hadn’t been expecting that.”

“It’s totally up to you.” Nicky assured me. “I’m not going to leave you with a haircut you don’t love though.”

“Really?” Sarah asked a little sarcastically, which made Nicky glare at her.

I raised my hand nervously to the short hair that rested on my neck.  I wasn’t really sure what to say or do.  On the one hand, it was admittedly a rather bland style.  A rather bland style from 30,000 years ago if Nicky’s interpretation was correct.  On the other hand, getting something else done to it would mean shorter, and I was definitely scared of that.  I often admired very short hair on girls who had feminine enough features to get away with really short hair, but I had doubts about being able to pull off the look myself.  I may not be the most femme gal ever, but I didn’t want to look like a boy.  I was already pretty nervous with the length I’d given up to this little experiment.

I looked up, Sarah beamed a smile at me and gave me an encouraging nod.

 

———————————————————————————

 

Sitting in the backseat of Sarah’s car, I started to regret that I hadn’t insisted on going and getting my own car, or just declining the offer since I wasn’t even sure I wanted another haircut, the ride was rather uncomfortable.  First off, this meant that I would have to get Sarah to drive me back to my car after this.  Second, I was trapped listening to Nicky lecture Sarah about minding her own business.  Third, and worst of all, I got to hear from Sarah about the possibility of Nicky asking Professor Tamayo for sperm so Nicky could get her wife pregnant, which was seriously something I didn’t want to think about.  How the hell was I supposed to look Rob in the eye next time I saw him.

“You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping when I was talking to my wife.” Nicky chastised.

“It’s not like I had a choice,”  Sarah said defensively.  “You could have told Emma you were in the middle of a haircut and would call her back later.”

“It was after hours and I was giving up my personal time to do you a favor.”

“That was your idea, I would have been ok waiting till you or one of the other stylists had a cancellation to get it trimmed, like you did the first time you cut it.  You were the one who told me I had to stay late and get a haircut I hadn’t asked for.”

“You should have asked if one of us could trim your hair weeks before that.”  Nicky exclaimed with annoyance.  “Your bangs were in your eyes, the back was looking very scruffy too.  Maintaining a neat and professional appearance is important when you work at a salon.”

“I can just imagine what my dad would say about calling half the hairstyles of people at the salon professional.” Sarah observed, proving she hadn’t gained much of a filter since we had been together.

“Consevative is not the same thing as neat and professional.”  Nicky pointed out, then turned towards me.  “Talking about which, I know Robby doesn’t care if your hair is conservative.  Considering he asked me to experiment with giving you a haircut using flint, I don’t think he even really cares about neat and professional either.  Is it safe to assume that other professor, who you work for, feels the same?”

“I’m pretty sure Bill thinks I should not be drawing a ton of attention to myself.”  I pointed out.  “I should look grown up enough that the students will take me seriously.  So I should stick to something pretty conservatie,  I guess,”

“Dr Stewart doesn’t give a shit.”. Sarah snorted.  “You are a student still.  You always think you need to act so grown up, you don’t, the world isn’t going to fall apart if you relax and just have fun for 5 minutes.”

“I’m a graduate student working on a doctorate, it’s not like being an undergraduate.  I can’t get away with going to parties 5 nights a week like you do.” I defended my perfectly reasonable maturity.  “It’s not even like it works out for you, academic probation, hung over half the time, are you actually getting anything out of school?”

“Hey,” Sarah’s tone became sharp.  “I don’t do that anymore, I have done a lot of growing up since we broke up.  I’m off academic probation.  I’m a valued employee at a job where I’m well respected,”

Nicky snorted audibly.

Sarah glared at her and threatened, “You could walk you know.”

“Just try it.” Nicky challenged, but smiled and seemed amused.  “And eyes on the road.”

“I’ve grown in other ways too.”  Sarah continued in a slightly calmer tone.  “I’m not just a business major anymore because my parents insisted I had to study something that would lead to either making good money or at least meeting a guy I could marry who would make good money.”

“I thought you were out to your parents?” Nicky interrupted.

“They think I’m going to just grow out of it.”  Sarah answered, but then kept going about the ways she’d matured.  “I’m a ceramics major now, which might not be the best way to make money, but I love it and I can keep working at the salon to make a living.  I have an apartment off campus, so I’m not hanging out with the same crowd I did back at the dorm.”

“So if you are enjoying being so much more mature, why tell me I should be less mature?” I asked, thinking she’d just proven my point.

“There’s a happy medium.”  Sarah sighed with exasperation.  “Life is all about balance, and while I may have been too far on the irresponsible side of things my freshmen year, you have gone to the other extreme.  When was the last time you went to a party?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t hate parties so much if I hadn’t found my drunk girlfriend making out with a frat boy at the last one I went to.”

“I’ve apologized for that,” Sarah grumbled, “repeatedly.  And you know what, you were already avoiding going to parties at that point.  If you had just come with me straight to the party, instead of coming later, I wouldn’t have been so drunk and I wouldn’t have been hanging out with the bitch that dared me to kiss a guy.”

“You cheated on your girlfriend because someone dared you to kiss a boy?”. Nicky asked in disbelief.  “That’s like middle school, not college, level immaturity.”

“Yes,” Sarah grumbled with even more annoyance, “we all agree I was being very immature.  That doesn’t change that Gail is being uptight now.  You’re young, your hair doesn’t have to be all prim and proper.  You can have some fun.”

“I seriously don’t want to draw a bunch of attention and have all the students fussing about it.”

“Well, it’s too late for that.” Sarah claimed.  “They’re going to notice that you got it all cut off anyway even if the style is totally tame.  Remember how everyone was talking about it when Professor McMillian, who teaches women’s studies, cut off all that strawberry blond hair that nearly reached her butt into the super short pixie?  It didn’t help that she kept refusing to talk about it.”

Nicky snorted another laugh, tried to cover it by pretending to cough, then looked pointedly out the window.

“Everybody is going to talk about it.”  Sarah continued talking, ignoring Nicky’s strange reaction.  “You might as well have some fun with it and stop being such a fuddy duddy.”

“Ok,” Nicky interjected.  “Gail, what would you consider fun?”

“I uh, haven’t really thought about it.”  I pointed out.  “I liked my hair long, so I guess I never really thought about what I would want if I had short hair.  I guess I should have since I knew that it would be short after the experiment, but I just figured I would be living with the results.  Maybe I should just stick with this, it’s a bit boring, but not terrible.  I suppose it might be a bit more of a flattering shape as an undercut pixie, you know, keeping the length on top but trim around the bottom to like an inch?”

“Do you have any idea how many undercut pixies Nicky does everyday?” Sarah complained.  “How many is it Nicky?”

“It’s not like I keep a spreadsheet.” Nicky dismissed the question.

“It’s a lot.” Sarah told me emphatically.

“So, it’s popular.” I said.  “It’s not like that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s a boring thing,”  Sarah emphasized.  “You should do something more distinctive.”

“I don’t want something complicated.” I sighed.  “An undercut pixie sounds nice and simple.  And it will give it some shape, but I won’t lose length on top so it won’t set me back much in terms of growing it out.”

“You know what’s really simple, and fun, young, and bold?” Sarah smiled wickedly.  “You could get a quarter inch buzz cut!”

“I’m not getting a buzz cut.” I dismissed the suggestion with annoyance.

“Remember how you said that girl at the coffee shop looked adorable with one, and you thought it was so cool that the next generation was so much less hung up on gender conforming. but you would be terrified.  You would look really good with it,” Sarah claimed.  “You’ve got that really feminine heart shaped face that looks good with a buzz cut.”

“Just because I admired something on someone else, doesn’t mean I want it myself. The girl at the coffee shop pulled it off because she was stunning, I am not that stunning.” I pointed out.  “And this is already going to take forever to grow out.”

“It’s because it’s going to take ages to grow out anyway, that now is the perfect time.” Sarah claimed again.  “Since it’s going to take years to grow out anyway, what’s a few extra weeks.”

“Months,” Nicky corrected blandly, “several extra months. Like 8.”

“Whatever,” Sarah dismissed the clarification.  “You’d be cute.”

“Yeah, you’re saying that now, but for all you know I have a weird shaped head.  I’m sure I’d look like a cone head or something.”  I pointed out.  “I’m not planning to find out that I have a lumpy head the hard way.”

“Nicky would have noticed if you had a weird head.”  Sarah argued.  “Right Nicky?”

“It seemed reasonably round, and I didn’t notice any major lumps.” Nicky still had a bland tone, as though she was completely neutral about whether or not I should buzz my head, I kind of felt as Sarah’s boss she really should be telling Sarah to stop pushing it.

“And Nicky would have noticed lumps,” Sarah insisted. “She studies phrenology.”

“I don’t study phrenology.” Nicky stated and wrinkled her nose, obviously caring way more about it than whether or not Sarah kept pestering me about buzzing my hair.

“You’ve got a phrenology head in your back room.”  Sarah mentioned.

“It just makes a handy wig stand that blends into the decor. Klaus uses it way more than I do since he has more clients who wear wigs and are uncomfortable taking off their wigs in public than I do.”  Nicky’s tone suggested that she had thought it had been something Sarah should have known already or at least figured out.  “Do I seem like I engage in pseudoscience?”

“Sorry,”  Sarah apologized without sounding terribly remorseful, then switched back to trying to convince me.  “You’d be cute with a quarter inch buzz, and it’s not like you really know what you want.”

“I may not really know what I want,” I admitted, “but I know I don’t want a buzz cut.”

“It would be fun.” Sarah assured me.  “It would be spontaneous.”

“I need to look stable, not impulsive.” I insisted.

“It would be super gay looking.” Sarah pointed out.

“I don’t need to look super gay.” I scoffed, then decided to turn things back on Sarah.  “I don’t make friends with people who don’t believe me when I tell them I’m gay and then dare me to kiss guys to try to convince me I’m not gay.  And I am mature enough that I wouldn’t kiss a fratboy just because someone dared me to.”

“OH MY GOD! How many times do you want me to apologize?” Sarah exclaimed.  “Yes, it was an immature mistake.  I made a bunch of immature mistakes.  But I don’t think you remember how hard it is to ignore a DARE!  When even was the last time someone dared you to do something?”

“My friends act like mature adults and don’t go around daring people to do dumb shit.” I explained.

“You totally don’t remember.” Sarah challenged.  “Well,  I DARE you to get a quarter inch buzz cut.”

“I’m not getting a buzzcut just because you dared me.” I stated firmly, even though I suddenly realized that simply having been dared to do it actually was making me feel wimpy for not doing it.  

“You chicken?”  Sarah teased.  “I double dog dare you.”

“Nicky,” I begged, sounding pretty immature myself, “can you please tell her that her behavior is inappropriate and make her stop!”

“I’m actually kind of curious to see if it works.” Nicky stated with a strange combination of clinical detachment and amused interest, I suddenly got why Sarah had said Nicky was a bit terrifying.

Sarah suddenly said gently after a few moments of awkward silence, “I’m sorry.”  

“It’s ok,” I responded before Sarah and I both fell back into silent for the rest of the ride to the barbershop.

 

—————————————————————————

 

“Nicky! Sarah!” A guy in a dark burgundy dress shirt and black slacks, called out in an urgent tone as we entered the back hallway to the shop from the doorway I assume led to the main shop.  “I was about to call you guys.  Stay there, don’t come all the way in.”

“What’s up?” Nicky asked calmly.

“We think Mike has monkeypox.”  He answered.

“He’s not vaccinated yet?”  Nicky sounded a bit surprised.  “He’s been eligible for a while right?” 

“He just has been having bad luck getting it.  They ran out before they got to him the first time he tried to get it.  He was scheduled to get one a couple of weeks ago, but got a flat tire on his way there.”  The guy explained.  “He was rescheduled for tomorrow, but I guess it is too late now.”

“Well that sucks.”  Nicky stated with a bit of frustration.  “He’s going to be OK?”

“According to google there’s a very good chance he’s just going to be really miserable for a couple of weeks.”  He said, still sounding rather worried.  “Only a few get really seriously sick.”

Nicky nodded solemnly.  

“So…” Nicky prompted, “what’s going to happen?”

“Obviously, he went home and needs to call his Dr.  I sent everyone who isn’t vaccinated home, which would include you and Sarah, since you aren’t eligible to get it yet.  Everyone who is vaccinated stayed, and is sanitizing anything Mike touched.  I also wanted to talk about rescheduling all the unvaccinated clients.  I know it’s not extremely contagious, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Has Mike been in the backroom?” Nicky cut in to ask.

“I don’t think so,” the guy answered a little hesitantly.  “There isn’t any reason he should have been.  As far as I know, nobody has used it today.”

“OK, hang on,” Nicky said to the guy, then turned and addressed Sarah while fishing keys out of her pocket.  “Sarah, take Gail to the back room.  Get her into a cape, and get my stuff unpacked and ready.  I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

I followed Sarah to an unmarked door, she unlocked as Nicky and the guy talked about schedules, locations, and how contagious monkeypox actually is.  Sarah soon had the door open, and was ushering me inside.  I’m not sure exactly what I had been expecting, but it wasn’t a vampire lair with an ornate barber chair in the middle of it.

“Wow!” escaped my lips as I looked up at the crystal chandeliers that hung from the tin ceiling.  “This is…”

“Yeah,”  Sarah simply said as she put the bags she was carrying up onto the black counter in front of the ceramic phrenology head she mentioned earlier.

“And I thought Dr Tamayo’s office was creepy.”  I commented as I looked at a shadow box full of, I suspected authentic, Victorian mourning jewelry hanging on the wall.

“I actually thought those cheered the place up a bit.”  Sarah said, pausing her unpacking and looking over her shoulder towards me.  “She added them a few months ago.”

“Do you know what these are?” I asked her.  “Do you know what they are made of?”

“Old jewelry.” She stated a bit unsurely.  “Silver and fabric.”

“It’s for mourning.” I explained. “The fabric is woven from the hair of the lost loved one they were mourning.”

“Wait, do you mean that’s hair from dead people!”

“Yup.”

“Eew!”  Sarah exclaimed, while wrinkling her face adorably.  “How am I going to not freak out when I have to be alone back here.”

“I’m sure you’ll just get used to it.” I chuckled as I moved on to looking at the shadow box full of antique straight razors.  “You said you liked working here.”

“I like working upfront, in the main shop.”  Sarah grumbled.  “Up front it’s bright and cheerful, and there are nice people to chat with.  Back here it’s dark and creepy and I‘m alone most of the time just cleaning up after Nicky or Klaus, occasionally one of the other stylists.  They bring clients back here for privacy sometimes.”

I turned away from the displays and looked at Sarah.  She was putting tools from one of the bags away into one of the drawers, her bobbed hair swinging forward and brushing her face as she did.  I found myself wanting to grab her around her waist, and tickle her while teasing her about her grumpiness, then kiss her as she giggled.

I deliberately pushed the fantasy out of my mind.

I turned back to the next shadow box, it was full of tools that I didn’t know what were.  They were metal with handles, springs, and toothy blades.  I figured they were antiques, both from patina and context.  I also suspected hair related from the toothy blades and context again.

“What are these?” I turned and asked Sarah, who was done emptying the tools from the bag, and had picked up an empty looking cranberry glass bottle with a sprayer top.

“Hmmm?” Sarah turned to see what I was pointing at.  “Oh, hair clippers.  That’s what they looked like before they were electric.  I have to go fill this.”

I looked back at the shadow box of clippers as Sarah went into a small bathroom at the other end of the room.  It probably should have figured it out, though they looked quite different from electric clippers, I could see how the function would be almost the same.  The toothy blades acting like multiple scissors when the handles were squeezed.

“Nicky should be in soon,” Sarah stated as she came back with the water bottle filled, and walked over to a wardrobe.  “Can you go sit in the barber chair?”

I turned to face the ornate antique that dominated the room.  I felt so unsure about the whole thing, but I was also feeling rather trapped.  I could just say I had changed my mind and didn’t want another haircut.  Heck, it wasn’t even really a change of mind, since I’d never really decided that I did want another haircut, I just didn’t really love the first haircut so had gone along with the idea that Nicky was somehow going to make things better.

I looked at Sarah, who smiled encouragingly, as she closed the wardrobe she’d taken a red and white striped cape from.  I had gotten the impression that the bob was almost completely Nicky’s idea, considering how stunning Sarah was with it, I guess I really should trust Nicky.  I walked over to the chair and sat down in it.

Sarah placed the spray bottle on the counter in front of me, and dropped the cotton cape down on my lap.  She opened a drawer, and took out a strip of paper.  She came behind me, and wrapped the strip around my neck, giving it a twist in the back.  A shiver ran through me as her warm delicate fingers brushed the sensitive skin.  Then she leaned forward, to lift the cape off my lap, the sharp ends of the pretty bob brushing my shoulder as she did.

I watched in the mirror as Sarah shook out the cape, and then started to swing it over me.  The fabric rippled almost in slow motion as it encased me.  Then Sarah’s fingers were once again brushing my neck as she tied the cape closed.  Then she carefully adjusted the fabric around my shoulders, it seeming like she lingered over it more than necessary.  Sarah stepped forward, to stand next to me.  

“Have you figured out what you’re doing with this?” Sarah asked, gently ruffling my short curls that though still sandy blonde, weren’t as light as the highlights at the already cut off ends had been.

“I’m not sure.”  I admitted, leaning slightly into her hand.  “Thanks for admitting that I shouldn’t get a buzz cut.”

“I’m not saying that.”  Sarah smiled and chuckled, then her tone shifted.  “I still totally think you should get a quarter inch buzz, but I know I should stop pestering you about it.  You would look really cute, but it’s not like I actually have a stake in the matter.”  Sarah looked down at me, her tone sad.  “It’s not like you’re my girlfriend anymore.”

“So, you’re just taking back the dare.” I joked to lighten the mood.

“I would if I could, but once a dare has been made it’s just there.”  Sarah informed me gravely.  “It’s just a question of whether or not you are mature enough to resist it, or brave enough to face it.”

“Damned if I do,” I turned towards Sarah, looking up into her dark eyes, “damned if I don’t.  Huh?”

“Sorry I put you in that position,” She barely breathed the words down at me.

Distracted as I was by the paradox Sarah had created, the feeling’s I’d been resisting all day slipped by me and almost unconsciously, I reached up and stroked Sarah’s soft cheek, the ends of her dark brown hair brushing the back of my fingers.  Looking down at me, Sarah’s lips parted slightly.  I ached to press my own lips against hers.

“Sorry I took so long.”  Nicky announced as she walked in the door carrying office supplies.

Sarah and I startled apart, swiftly trying to pretend nothing had been about to happen.  Sarah took a step away from the chair, I pulled my hand down under the cape.  I glanced over at Nicky, she had an amused knowing smile.

“Sarah,” Nicky went on as though she’d seen nothing.  “I need you to start making phone calls.  Klaus has Jay making calls from upfront at the reception desk since he’s vaccinated.  Since you aren’t, you need to work back here.”

“Ok,” Sarah said, obviously still not completely recovered from our little moment.

“You need to call all my clients, Rachel’s clients, and Angel’s clients.”  Nicky explained as she handed Sarah a laptop then phone.  “Call clients in chronological order, starting with the soonest appointment.  Angel will be working from their apartment, I will be working here in the back room, Rachel is canceling everyone because she really doesn’t have anywhere to work from, unless a client is up for her going to their house, but only for certain services that don’t require equipment or chemicals she doesn’t have.  You’re following this?”

“Yeah, so for you and Angel, I’m mostly telling clients to go to alternate locations?”  Sarah clarified, seeming pretty professional now that she had a task to focus on.  “But for Rachel, I’m offering house calls, but only for certain services, should I have them call Rachel to discuss it if they say yes?”

“That’s a good idea,” Nicky agreed.  “I need you to make it clear to everyone you call that ~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~”

I let my own focus drift as I watched the exchange continue between Sarah and Nicky.  As much as Nicky had treated Sarah more like an inattentive student in the car, Nicky suddenly was clearly ready to trust Sarah with the complicated customer relations nightmare that rescheduling and redirecting two days worth of three stylists clients.  And Sarah was acting like a completely professional adult.  Watching them was just driving home how much she had matured.

When Nicky and Sarah finished going over the many complex details, Sarah sat down in one of the red velvet chairs, opened the laptop on the coffee table, and began dialing the phone.  “Hello.  This is Sarah from Nicklas and Nichole’s, may I speak with Janet?”

“Ok, so what are we doing?” Nicky asked me softly walking up behind the barber chair.  

I looked back at the mirror, my dirty blond curls cut into the bland cap with most of the natural highlights gone.  In the reflection, behind Nicky and me, I could see Sarah hanging up the phone and typing on the laptop.  She’d switch gears when she needed from issuing playground rule dares, to being a total professional.  Maybe I could drop acting like a hall monitor for 5 minutes.  I could relax and do something a bit unexpected.  I could embrace a challenge.

Sarah was between calls, just tapping in the numbers to the phone and hadn’t started talking yet.  It was the moment I could speak loudly without it disrupting her work.  It was a moment I could show her some empathy and be a little understanding of how much pressure she’d felt to do something she hadn’t really wanted to.

“Do the quarter inch buzz cut.”  I spoke out loud enough to catch Sarah’s attention.  She looked up at me with an unspoken question,  Nicky raised an eyebrow with a questioning look of her own.  I smiled and added with a chuckle, “I was dared.  Heck, I was double dog dared.  And hey you just have to after being dared, right?” 

Sarah smiled shyly as she hit send on the phone then lifted it to her ear.  “Hello.  This is Sarah from Nicklas and Nichole’s, may I speak with Claudia?”

Nicky smiled way too enthusiastically as she patted my shoulder and said “Excellent.”

I watched as she pulled out big black clippers from a drawer, and plugged them in.  After she’d spent just a moment lubricating them, I got nervous when she just pulled out a comb instead of putting a guard on them, but reminded myself she was the one who knew more about this than I did.  Most of my knowledge of clippers came from an exgirlfriend with a basic DIY undercut.

Nicky combed hair away from my head just above my ear, and flicked the switch on the side of the clippers.  I tried not to startle at the pop I knew was coming, but I did ever so slightly anyway.  The clippers hummed angrily as they approached the comb, then rattled as the blades made contact.  I watched the soft curls sheared off and falling to my shoulder.  Much shorter hair lay back against my scalp as it escaped the comb.  I was pleasantly surprised that the hair lay flat and covered my scalp, I had expected it to stand up so you could see scalp between bristles.

“That’s not so bad,”  I let out.  “Not as short as I was scared it would be.”

“That’s not the quarter inch.”  Nicky rolled her eyes.  “I’m just taking down the bulk so the other clippers don’t get tangled in all these curls.”

Nicky palmed the comb, and pointed to the space inbetween the crisp shaved line that separated the top of her head from the side and where the swirling design was shaved into her hair.  “This is what a quarter of an inch looks like.  And that’s on thick dark hair, it’s going to be more bare looking with fine light hair.  Ok with a quarter inch buzz still?”

I took a deep breath, swallowed, and nodded.

Nicky simply swiftly combed out another chunk of hair, and ran the clippers over it with a zwoop as more curls tumbled over my shoulder towards the floor.  As she sheared away more and more of the hair, it became more and more obvious what she’d said about just reducing bulk.  She was going quite fast, not bothering to match the length from one section to the next.  I caught Sarah’s eye in the mirror, between calls 

“It will be really cute,” she assured me as more than half of the hair I’d had left on the other side of my head landed in my lap.  

With the side reduced, but the top still there, it was looking pretty much like the undercut pixie I had thought I would ask for.  It was actually pretty cute, much better than the Willendorf style I’d been sporting a few minutes ago.  I really wanted to stop here, keep this longer than a quarter inch length on the sides, keep the several inches on top.  I could tell Nicky I liked this basic shape, and she could just make it look a bit more finished.

I had to bite my tongue to not say anything as Nicky combed the hair on the top of my head straight up.  I listened to the clippers once again zwoop as they removed all the hair that stuck through the teeth of the comb.  It fell before my eyes into my lap.  Finally, it being too late to request Nicky stop and give me an undercut pixie that left the length on top, I let out the breath I had been holding.  

Soon the last of the longish curls were bouncing off my shoulder to the floor.  Nicky turned off the humming clippers.  The relative quiet of just Sarah’s gentle voice in the background was a welcome relief.  I leaned over and looked down past the armrests at the hair scattered around the floor, while it was undoubtedly less hair than I left at the lecture hall, loose and scattered instead of wet and piled up, it covered a much wider area.

 As Nicky looked through drawers, I watched Sarah patiently explain to a client how to find Angel’s apartment without just using google maps like a normal person.  I turned back to the mirror reached out from under the cape, and rubbed the messily cropped hair on my head.   Though the hair wasn’t short enough to show scalp yet, at this point I figured it was only obscuring the shape of my head slightly, and Nicky had spoken the truth about it being reasonably round and not having any really obvious bumps.  Hopefully no less obvious ones were going to suddenly appear when Nicky took it down to the quarter inch.

“Where are the Osters?”  Nicky asked when Sarah hung up the phone.  “I thought we took them with us.  Please tell me they’re not up front, I was hoping not to have to use the big corded clippers all day.”

“Third drawer.” Sarah said simply as she did something on the laptop.

“I looked there.”  Nicky swore.

“Hang on.”  Sarah sighed to the older woman in a tone amusingly like a mom, then got up, walked to where Nicky was, opened the third drawer, and reached in and pulled out a black case.

“Thanks,”  Nicky said as she opened the case and Sarah returned to the laptop.

As Nicky fussed with the clippers from the case, Sarah once again dialed and lifted the phone to her ear, repeating the same phrase again patiently, in the same friendly tone as the first time.  “Hello.  This is Sarah from Nicklas and Nichole’s, may I speak with Jamie?”

Nicky seemed to have finished fussing with the clippers, and she turned back to me.  She flicked the switch.  They weren’t quite as loud as the other clippers had been, but yet there was something about them that seemed more serious.  I could see there was still no guard over the bare metal blades.

Nicky combed slightly upward on the side of my head, then just left the comb there, not pulling it out away from my head like she had for reducing the bulk.  She raised the humming bare bladed clippers towards the side of my head, under the comb as though she was planning to place the bare blades directly against my scalp.

Was she just planning to shape the hairline first, then put on a guard to do the quarter inch after?  I wanted to just relax and trust, but I shrunk down, leaning away.  My eyes involuntarily started scrunching closed,  I struggled to keep one open as the vibrating blades approached what little hair I had left.

“You’re cringing.”  Nicky sighed, pausing and lowering the clippers before she actually started shaving me. “Do you want this haircut?”

That should have been a simple question, but of course it wasn’t.   I hadn’t really wanted a haircut at all, but it was way to late for that.  As much as Sarah was right that I admired and thought a quarter inch buzz cut was a really cool look, I was very terrified I couldn’t pull it off, I was terrified of people were going to react to it even if I did look good with it.  But of course my biggest worry was that since the clippers didn’t have a guard on them, that Nicky was about to shave my bald, not just give me a quarter inch buzz.  I just had been nervous about saying something.

“There’s no guard on the clippers.” I said, my voice sounding small and apologetic.

“These don’t need a guard.”  Nicky said, rolling her eyes.  “They have interchangeable blades.”

“Does that mean you aren’t going to make me bald?”  I checked.

“Quarter inch, as asked for.”  Nicky promised impatiently.  “Now sit still and stop looking like I’m torturing you, I charge extra for that.”

“What?!”  Escaped my lips.

“Just a joke.”  Nicky dismissed the remark as she went back to the task at hand.

She once again combed slightly upward on the side of my head, then just left the comb there, this time pressed a bit more firmly against my head, pushing down so I tilted towards my shoulder and it would be harder to move.  She brought the still unguarded clippers up to the side of my head, just under the comb.  I tried and failed not to scrunch my face up in fear, but did manage to sit mostly still, as the blades scraped along between Nicky’s comb and the top of my ear.

Half inch long soft clippings of dark blonde hair began to rain down onto my neck and shoulder.  As the clippers traveled back, I could finally see the path they left behind.  It was very short, but not actually to the skin.  It looked the way Nicky said it would, about the length of the hair on the side of her head between the design and the line, but looking more bare as the lighter mousy colored finer strands (no, not strands anymore, bristles) blended with the skin of my scalp more.

Nicky brought the clippers back to the front, and started pulling them through my hair again.  I watched as my side burns were reduced to the same soft bristles as the hair above them.  Then the clippers disappeared behind my ear.

My face was still scrunched up, as much as I now trusted that the bare blades were leaving me the promised quarter inch, I still was rather nervous I was going to look really terrible with it, not cool and bold like the girl I’d admired.  Maybe frail and sickly, or maybe just like a boy, or most likely I was going to look like a grown up desperately trying to look trendy and failing badly.

The clippers were back at the front again, and Nicky had moved the comb up a bit more, still pressing it to prevent me from moving.  She mowed away the short tufts of hair that had been covering my temple.  With that third pass, the side of my head was mostly done, and covered in a patch of short bristles.  The bristles were so short, not only was every trace of highlight gone, but they also appeared straight as they stuck out from my head.  So far it wasn’t terrible, my ears didn’t look ridiculously small or large without hair filling the space around them.

Nicky released the pressure that had kept me still, and flipped the comb up into her palm, holding it in place with her pinky and ring finger.  With her other three fingers, she pressed against the back of my head, forcing me to look down at my lap with my chin pressed against my head.

My cape covered lap was full of tufts of hair, the sandy blonde curls that had been the cap of hair styled to look like the Lady of Willendorf.  Maybe I should have just turned Nicky down when she offered to recut my hair and do something more interesting. The cap of curls had been a bit bland but I could have just used accessories to dress things up, and it would have grown out eventually.  

As I felt the vibrating metal blades of the clipper travel up my neck and into my hair, I started thinking about why I had taken up Nicky’s offer, and realized it was Sarah.  Sarah had obviously prompted Nicky to make this offer to me instead of just taking an early lunch.  I suspected I’d done this more for Sarah than myself.  Saying no would have felt a bit like rejecting a gift from her.  Obviously, I’d let Sarah goad me into asking for a quarter inch buzz cut.  Yeah, I was being sheared like a sheep for a girl who had cheated on me and I had broken up with over a year and a half ago, close to two.  A girl who’d cheated on me, I’d broken up with, and then hadn’t gotten over.

The clippers kept humming along as I felt Nicky make pass after pass while the three fingers pressed into my scalp.  Small clumps of hair occasionally tumbled over my shoulder to land in my lap where they joined the curls. I tried to look at the mirror, but Nicky’s fingers were holding my head firmly down, and I couldn’t look up far enough with just my eyes to even see the counter top.

When Nicky finally lifted her fingers, and let me look up, there wasn’t actually much new to see, since the hair she’d cut had been on the back of my head.  Swiftly, she flipped the clippers around so she was holding them the other way.  She combed up the side of my head that still had dark blonde half curls, instead of mousy bristles, pressing my head firmly to the side with the comb.  

I watched as the buzzing clippers slid into my sideburn and upward to my temple.  The blonde half curls piled up on the top of the clippers till Nicky deliberately toppled them off into my lap.  Then she was manuvering the metal blades around my ear.  

With just a couple of more passes Nicky had finished the side of my head, and let me up.  As I sat up straight, and looked at the mirror, Nicky used the comb to knock the piles of hair off my shoulders.  

“~~~~great, we’ll see you then…..  Have a good day.”  Sarah looked up as she hung up the phone and smiled at my reflection.  “See, it looks good.  It’ll look even better when it’s done.”

“We haven’t seen how pointy the top of my head is yet,” I pointed out.  “If it doesn’t look good it’s going to take forever to grow back.”

“Don’t worry, it’s round,” Nicky assured me again.  “Ready to see?”

“I’ve come this far,”  I reminded myself,  “it’d be dumb not to take that final leap, finish the dare.”

Nicky took that for yes, and flicked the clippers back on.  I had expected her to put the blades right against my forehead, bit instead she put the comb just slightly into my hair line, so the very front was just slightly more than the quarter inch as she pulled the clippers back.  Within a fraction of an inch or so though, the blades were scraping along my scalp, and back over the crown of my head.  I felt the loose hair tumbel down the back of my head to my neck and shoulder.

Going back there was a strip of barely visible bristles with a line in the middle.  Nicky ignored the weird line as she made a second pass widening the strip of bristles, again going over the comb right in the front to leave the hair line just a smidgen longer.  Nicky made a few more passes, and the top of my head was looking just as bare as the sides. She rubbed her hand over my head, and ran the clipper over a few spots an extra time or two, I guess catching any longer patches.  After a last rub, she looked satisfied and turned off the clippers.

It was all looking pretty uniform, even the bit in the front I knew was a bit longer pretty much blended in.  It only looked a little uneven at the very edges, and there was still that not completely straight line going down the middle of my head.  I pulled my hand out from under the cape, and tentatively rubbed it.

“What’s with this line?” I asked a bit worried it was some permanent feature of my head I hadn’t been aware of since it had always been covered in the soft blonde curls that were now split between the garbage back on campus, the floor surrounding me, and of course my lap.

“Don’t worry,” Nicky assured me casually, as she put the clippers down carefully on the counter and picked up the spray bottle Sarah had filled.  “It’s just your part, now that the hair isn’t weighed down it will start to stand up soon.  I’ll wet it and try to get it to do that now, but there’s probably going to be a faint line until you can really wash it.  Sorry there isn’t a wash station back here, you wouldn’t believe how high the quote from the plumber to run a line was.”  

“Hmmm” I simply acknoledged the statement as I pulled my hand back under the red and white striped cape.

Nicky started spraying the little bristles of hair that just barely covered my head.  After she’d given everything a light spritzing, she started concentrating and getting the visible part line really wet.  She rubbed at the line in the short hair with her fingers, doing her best to ruffle it away.

“I’m thinking it will fit you better if I don’t do a hard line around the edges.”  Nicky stated.  “OK?”

I just nodded as I stared at my rather bare head covered in just a slight halo of damp bristles.  The wetness was making the hair darker, so there was more contrast to the scalp making the actual hair easier to see, but it was also making the tiny hairs clump together so the scalp glared through even more.   Soft sounded better than hard.

She then got scissors from a drawer, and started to trim the tiny bristles.  It was strange watching her snip away at such small amounts of hair, so small that the only way I knew she was really cutting anything was that I could just see tiny bits clinging to the blades of the scissors and my skin.  It looked almost like sand, it was so little.  She combed the hair at the front that she had left barely longer and snipped at it very slightly, leaving behind a faint dust of damp mousy snippets on my forehead.  Mostly she trimmed the edges, cleaning up the line.  She spent a bunch of time at it in the back, then started combing up into the little bristles, and snipping right against the comb.  It seemed so weird that she was finding anything to cut with the tips of her scissors, when I had so little hair left.

“Did you turn on the towel warmer?”  Nicky asked, looking at the mirror just barely pausing the snipping when Sarah hung up the phone.

“I’ve been here for over a year.”  Sarah retorted instead of answering the simple question directly.  “Hello.  This is Sarah from Nicklas and Nichole’s, may I speak with Joe?”

Nicky accepted the semi answer and kept running the comb up and down the back of my head while making tiny snips.  When she seemed satisfied she went off towards the door in the back briefly.  

When she came back, she placed a hot towel on my neck.  I sat there just enjoying the warm moisture letting it seep into the tense muscles.  I watch Nicky take out the straight razor she’d used early for me to compare to the flint.  Then she squirted a little gel on her fingers and came back behind me.  

She removed the hot towel, and the air that had felt warm earlier suddenly felt cool in comparison.  She started to massage the gel into the skin at the back of my neck.  At first just going back over what she had shaved with the flint, but then she went higher, and up around my ear.

Nicky wiped her fingers on the hot towel, and then held my head rather firmly with her left hand.  I couldn’t move at all, as she scraped away the stubble from my neck.  I didn’t put up any resistance as she moved my head to the side so she could shape the hair around my ear, and then my sideburn.

It was rather a relief when Nicky released the pressure, put down the razor, and started to just wipe me off.  Nicky went back to snipping with the pointy silver scissors very briefly, before pulling a hair dryer out of another drawer.  The drying process was pretty quick considering how little hair I had.  

I stared at the unfamiliar girl in the mirror as Nicky dusted me off.  She slowly let the cape down, pulling it to the side so the pile of hair on my lap didn’t just spill onto my feet.

I sat in the big old chair staring at myself in the mirror as my hand reached up to pet the bristles.  Nicky was holding up a hand mirror to show me how the hair line in the back looked.  I began to stroke the slight fuzz, as I turned my head back and forth slowly, taking it in from various angles.

Sarah had paused making calls, and was staring at me, grinning ear to ear.

I looked younger, smaller, almost waif-like.  It was cute and fresh.  In the pretty camisole I was wearing, I was very obviously female, in more androgynous clothing, I would look like a prepubescent teenage boy though.  And younger wasn’t something I was thrilled about.

I was a bit unsure which of my conflicting emotions was on top.  I was happy with how it actually looked, but completely terrified of the reactions people were going to have to how I looked.  Some would assume I was sick, many would guess I was gay, almost everyone was going to be curious.  

I knew I would be asked repeatedly “why did you shave your head?”  It bothered me that people called getting a very short haircut shaving these days.  There’s an obvious difference between having no hair and a thick pelt of hair no matter how short.

I stroked my hand upward against the grain on the back of my head. It felt like heaven.  The velvet against my palm, my warm hand so close to my scalp without pulling any long strands.  It was going to be chilly though, if I’d been sensible I would have waited till spring.

“What do you think?”  Sarah asked.

“I’m not sure.”  I admitted nervously.  “What do you think?”

“You’re adorable and really cool looking.” She assured me.  “You look like the person you always said you wished you could be, but were always too hung up on being what others expected to actually be.”

I rubbed my hand over my velvet covered head again, as Nicky moved the hand mirror so I could see another angle.  I turned my head, considering what Sarah had said.

“I guess that’s true,”  I agreed.  “I think it looks really cool, but I’m terrified what everyone will say.  I’m worried they’ll treat me differently, not trust me or take me seriously.”

“People do treat you differently when you stand out,”  Nicky simply confirmed without trying to hide the truth.  “If you find you’re uncomfortable with it, it’ll only be a couple of months before you can do something a bit more conventional, three or four months to a pretty standard pixie.  If you can get used to it though, it’s nice knowing how people treat you when you’re yourself.

“Now, if you do end up keeping it, this really only lasts two weeks.”. Nicky added as she put away the mirror.  “You are of course welcome to come back as a regular customer, but lots of people with a quarter inch buzz, just buy a set of clippers to save time and money.”

I nodded, taking in the information I was not sure if I was going to need yet.  Then I ran my fingers over my smoothly shaved neck and along the soft hairline.  There was no way I was getting that as nice and perfect if I just ran clippers over my head.  Of course she was right that getting it freshly done every 2 weeks would be hard for me to afford if Nicky charged anywhere near what I assumed she did.  Maybe I could get it done by her for special occasions.

I slowly got up, holding the armrest as I climbed down off the elaborate foot rest, then carefully stepping over the circle of blonde curls that circled the chair.  The pretty blonde hair, that was so very admired, and I had just somewhat voluntarily gotten it all cut off.  At least I wasn’t going to have people always assuming I dyed it anymore, I thought as I glanced up at the mirror again and ran my hand once again over the mousy fuzz.

“Can you wait a bit before Sarah drives you back?”  Nicky asked me as she gently shook scraps of my hair from the cape to the floor.   “I need her for a bit.  We can order a pizza.”

“Yeah sure,” I said casually, and looked over at the red velvet waiting chair next to where Sarah was giving a client Rachel’s contact information.  

I assumed I should go over and sit next to Sarah, but I was nervous to.  I didn’t want to disturb her, and distract her.  I knew if I was that close to her, I would have to restrain myself from touching her.  Sarah finished the call, and started getting up.

“I’ll go get the broom,” Sarah announced as she started to move.

“I can do the clean up,” Nicky said.  “I need you to keep making phone calls.  Really quick though, order us a large cheese pie to share.  Ok?”

“Ok.” Sarah agreed and sat back down and picked the phone back up.  

“Excuse me,” Nicky said as she gently nudged me aside as she draped the cape over the armrest.  “Go on and sit down, get comfortable.”

I realized I really did have to go sit next to Sarah, since I was obviously in Nicky’s way.  I walked over quietly and lowered myself into the soft chair, trying not to accidentally brush against Sarah, who was on the phone with the pizza place.  I listened as she told them two drink orders too, and then looking at me told them my usual iced tea, raising a questioning eyebrow at me till I nodded confirmation.  I was surprised she remembered.  Heck, I was surprised she’d paid attention to it back when we were together.

Nicky had gone and gotten a broom and dust pan.  I watched almost half of my sandy curls become more tangled and bedraggled as they were first pushed into a pile, then jammed into the dust pan, then finally carried away to be unceremoniously dumped into the trash.   

I wanted to rest my head on Sarah’s shoulder, I wanted her to assure me that I didn’t need long locks to prove myself a little bit femme.  I wanted her to stroke my face and tell me I was still pretty.  I wanted Sarah to stroke my head and tell me how amazing the bristles felt and assure me they were more fun than the 4 or 5 inches I’d been left with after the experiment.  I kept resisting the urge to lean over and feel the comfort I knew Sarah could provide.

Sarah had started the next call and was explaining to one of Nicky’s clients that they needed to go to the back door of the shop instead of the front like usual.  Nicky was back with the emptied dust pan to take away more of the evidence of the way she’d divested me of my shaggy mop.  I wanted to be distracted.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  I asked.

“Huh?” Nicky looked up from sweeping up my hair. “Yeah, I guess.”

For the next 45 minutes or so, I got to not ruminate over either my desire for Sarah’s touch or my regret for having gone from the long bright curls that I had started the day with to such an extreme short mousy haircut.  I put away Nicky’s strange antique magazine collection, then waited at the back door for the pizza delivery guy, then served Sarah her pizza as she took bites between phone calls.

I was just getting back from taking the empty pizza box and used paper plates to the dumpster, when Sarah announced, “That’s everyone.  Anyone I wasn’t able to speak to directly, got both a voicemail and a text.”

“When is my first client of the afternoon showing up?”  Nicky asked Sarah.

“In about ten minutes.” Sarah informed her after glancing at the screen.

“It’s time for you to take Gail back to campus,” Nicky said.  Then looking between Sarah and I added, “After that, you can just take the rest of the day off, this room is too small to have you hanging around while I work on clients.”

“I could work from…” Sarah started as she closed the laptop.

“Just say ‘thank you’ and get going.” Nicky ordered with a way too sly look at me.

 

——————————————————————

 

I sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat, glancing over at Sarah, then turning away when she’d catch me.  I kept trying to think of something to say, but feared that I might blurt out something dumb like I still love you if I actually tried to talk.  Sarah on her part looked pretty nervous too.  At every redlight, she looked like not reaching over was a struggle.  I’d tried to think of something to say to break the awkward silence a dozen times without success, when Sarah pulled up and parked next to the faculty parking garage.  

I finally had an excuse to talk, “Thanks for the ride.”

Sarah nodded quietly looking melancholy.  I slowly reached for the door handle, fighting my reluctance to leave.

“Wait,” she blurted out.  “Nicky says it’s lesbian culture to still be friends.  Can we still be friends?  I miss you.”

I looked over, her eyes looked a bit wet, she looked so sad.  I so desperately wanted to kiss her and make her feel better.

“I don’t think I can handle being friends.” I said.

“Are you still angry?” Sarah asked, her voice quivering, a tear rolled down her cheek.

I could say yes and she’d accept it.  I could say yes and I could get out of this car and move on with my life.  I should say yes.

I felt a tear roll down my own cheek, and I told her the truth.  “I’m still in love.”

“I still love you too.” Sarah said, then apologizing again with the tears streaming down her cheeks.  “I’m so so sorry I hurt you.”

I gave in and turned away from the door and back towards Sarah.  I gave in to what I had been fighting all day.

My lips pressed against Sarah’s, my hands were moving over her body.  I felt Sarah’s hands on my body.  I pressed closer to her trying to ignore the gear shifter poking me in the thigh.  I pulled away, panting trying to catch my breath so I could speak.

“Which is closer your apartment or mine?”  I asked bluntly.

“Mine.” She stated succinctly as she turned forward, and put the car in gear.

The short ride was torture.  It took every ounce of my self control to not strip out of my clothing as we climbed up to the landing.  Inside the small studio, I started shedding clothing just as Sarah did.  We fell onto the low bed in nothing but bras and panties.  

I undid Sarah’s bra clumsily as my hands were shaking.  She was undoing mine at the same time.  I bent down and took her pert nipple into my mouth, as she cupped my breast pinching my nipple.  I sucked harder on her nipple, and her hands slid down my body towards my panties.  As she lowered the panties, she pulled away from me.

I leaned back into her pillows as she spread my legs apart.  She spread open my folds, and began to finger me with a level of skill and confidence she hadn’t possessed when we’d been together before.  Her free hand returned to my nipple to tease and pinch it.  My hand stroked down her sleek bob into the velvety hair on her nape, as she put just the right amount of rhythmic pressure on my clit and stroked my slick labia.  Then I felt one of her delicate digits enter me.  

I orgasmed hard, but Sarah didn’t stop.  She simply adjusted the pressure on my clit, and brought me to climax again and again, as I clutched at her smooth hair.  She finally let up, but only briefly.  She then bent down, planting her face on my womanhood.  Her head between my thighs, the sharp ends of her short hair brushed the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.  She began to lash me with her tongue.  She made me climax repeatedly till I was shaking.  

Sarah reclined next to me, and began to stroke the soft bristles on my head as she smiled at me.  I steadied my breathing, and turned towards her.  I reached down, and began to work my hand into her damp panties.  She paused her stroking, just long enough to sit up and take them off herself, then returned to where she lay next to me.  Her delicate fingers went back to my bristles as my hand found her folds.  

My fingers worked past her trimmed pubes, amusingly similar in length to the hair on my head.  I opened her up, my fingers finding the warm wetness inside her.  I stroked at first to the same rhythm she stroked my devastatingly short hair to.  As she came near climax, her hand stilled on my head, and I stroked her harder and faster. She moaned and arched, as I felt the muscles in her contract.  

I slid down her as she turned to lay on her back.  I spread open her legs and dove inside.  I wondered how the velvet plush that was my hair felt against the inside of her thighs, compared to the way her sleek bob had felt on my thighs.  It must have felt good, because she hummed with pleasure even before my tongue made contact with her labia.  Her short pubes tickled my face, as I drank in her slightly tangy cum.  I brought her to climax again, filling me with a joy I had missed beyond measure.

We spent the whole afternoon, taking turns filling each other’s needs.  By early evening I lay with my head on Sarah’s soft breast, as she lazily fondled the brevity of hair on my head.  I was torn between a need to get up and get a bit to eat, and a desire to nap.  I stared across the tiny apartment at a shelf full of ceramic pieces that made a gradual progression from crude and lumpy to refined and beautiful. 

“I’m sorry I dared you into cutting off all your hair.” She said with a touch of remorse.  “It really is fun though.”

“I’m not sorry,” I realized.  “I needed a kick in the pants to get over myself.  You were right, I take myself too seriously.  Besides, it was Rob and Bill’s fault that most of it went, your dare just cost me a few extra inches.”

“Can we try again?”  Sarah asked with a touch of fear.  “I’ll take our relationship more seriously this time.”

“How about this time, I try not to take everything so extremely seriously.” I offered.

“Happy medium.” Sarah smiled down at me.

“Happy medium,” I agreed and smiled back.

6 responses to “Flint

  1. THANK YOU… although nasty of you that it took so much time and built up tension before I could read, that what I hoped for, happened… together again!

    It would have been nastier of you if it didn’t happen (and I would have reminded you how you disappointed me), well pretty realistic story… :-))

    So also, double thank you, what a magnificent delicious final you wrote… totally unexpected, but all the more delighted to read it. Just WOW… amazing.

    Do we do a dare? Write another such a masterpiece!

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