Friday Night Fun

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Hi, all. For those of you who don’t care for details, the haircut takes place under subheading 3!

1 – A Date at Dusk

To the people streaming around the bench I’m perched on, the pieces of lint that I’m pretending to brush off the skirt draped over my arm must seem quite prevalent – but I’m only looking for something to do with my hands as I wait for my date to emerge from a clothing store. 

The sun is about to set, and the after-work crowd on the streets is dissolving fast. Soon, though, there’ll be a different crowd out for a night full of drinking and dancing. I’d like to be home long before then, but Lena has insisted on starting a civil debate with the employees about something trivial. I shouldn’t have agreed to go on “a quick shopping trip” after dinner…that’s not to say that anybody made me buy this skirt. It’s identical to my favorite black pencil skirt, except for the color; this one is navy blue. 

I sigh, crossing my legs at my ankles beneath the bench. These black, closed-toe heels are my “boldest” pair of shoes…a similar pair without the glossy sheen are in second place. I thought they’d pair well with my tan slacks and black dress shirt. Having swiped and plucked at the skirt far more than I’ll ever need to, I’ve got nothing better to do than stare straight ahead at my reflection in the door of my car.

Every day, I twist my hair into the same neat bun at the back of my head. I’ve been doing it for several years now, since it’s easy and professional. I just don’t know what else to do with it at this point. What if it looks bad in other styles, having been trained this way for so long? I don’t think I’d look good with curls, and my hair looks bad enough without being subjected to heat…I can’t stand how the dull, blonde strands have started to look limp, even a bit stringy, when I let my hair down each night, and the way my split ends don’t quite disappear after each trim. 

Now that the street is quieter than before, I can hear Lena coming towards me in her wedge heels, even though I’d parked two whole storefronts away from the entrance. With the hand that isn’t occupied with bags full of new clothes, she tosses her carrot-colored hair, smiling in my general direction as she strides towards me. I can’t believe how attracted I am to a woman I met only a few weeks ago…a woman who’s happy to inflate a small issue into a long, drawn-out conversation with tired employees at the end of their shift, leaving her disinterested date to go sit outside and wait in utter boredom. 

“They asked me to leave because the store is closing, but you know what? I think they just weren’t ready to admit that they’re wrong.” Her pretty smile is for herself as much as it’s for me, or anyone else, but when she actually looks directly at me, my face warms. It feels like her smile accompanies some inside joke, or a heartfelt compliment.

Hoping that the dim light of dusk will hide my blush, I shape my lips into a polite smile the same way I make myself smile for superiors at the office when they interrupt me to suggest that I go get them a coffee. 

“I’m sure you made a good case…” I find myself trying to stand in an attractive way, only to remember that I don’t know what that would even look like. My right leg is still awkwardly searching for a good position when she softly rests her lily-white hand on my forearm.

“Thank you for waiting, love, I really appreciate it.” She’s really giving me pouty, mascara model eyes. I blink, not sure what she wants me to say. I laugh gently as I look down at the ground.

“Well…I couldn’t just leave you here…” I toy with the handle of my black leather purse. Suddenly, I remember my manners. “And I had a very nice time with you at dinner.” This time, the smile I offer her is genuine. The street lights flicker on, allowing me to see into her pretty hazel eyes. She gazes right back at me, her winning smile unwavering. The light that looks like an invasive, sickly shade of yellow when it’s cast on the dirty sidewalk makes Lena look like a figure from a renaissance painting, an angel draped in resplendent golden light. 

“Are you ready for me to take you home?” My voice falters on the last word. As much as I enjoy being near her, I really don’t think I have the emotional energy for a third chapter of this date, and it wouldn’t be the first time she ignored a subtle hint. To my relief, she beams and nods her head, her manicured hand reaching past me for the handle on the passenger door.

Looking up at the darkening sky, I inhale deeply and release a quiet sigh…I can’t remember ever acting so strangely around someone I’m seeing. I can’t help that I find her absolutely magnetic.

 

2 – A Drink in the Kitchen

After almost an hour in the car, I finally pull into the maze of townhouses where Lena lives. I can hear her melodic voice apologizing for the long drive, but when she’s done talking, I realize that I’d been lost in a daydream from the minute she started speaking. 

Seconds after we come to a gentle stop in her narrow driveway, Lena gets out of the car, visibly happy as she makes her way to her front door. She hasn’t even said goodnight to me, and she left her shopping bags in the backseat…as she puts the key in her door, she glances over and grins at me like I’m intentionally being funny. She’s beckoning me towards her with a quick flap of her hand. I guess I should help her with her bags?

Oh…oh god. She’s inviting me in…I’ve never even been in her home before. It’s been…probably three years since I’ve been with someone. I feel frozen as my nervousness rises in my stomach, suddenly making me self-conscious. What do I say? What do I even want? Does she even want that? As I gingerly set my heels down on the concrete, my legs quiver a little. I’m so absorbed in my thoughts that I almost forget to lock my car as I approach the warm light emanating from her front door…she’s well inside the house, but she’s left the door hanging wide open.

I’m still in a dazed state when I shut the door behind me. I can hear Lena clinking glass around in a room to the left. As I enter the bright, modern kitchen, I remember the clothes in my car. “Oh! I left your clothes…I’ll be right back.” The last few words in my sentence get progressively weaker. I get a wild, fleeting idea about just leaving the bags on the driveway before I speed off into the night. 

“Wait a minute, silly!” The kitchen is small enough for her to be able to reach over and take my hand before I can scurry outside. She sets down the drink she was pouring, stepping close to me. “You can leave those in the car…” her voice is even softer and sweeter than ever. “They aren’t for me.” 

My face is hot again. This is…a lot for me. I don’t even know what’s going on, but she certainly seems like she has a handle on what she wants to do tonight…whatever it is. 

Her other hand reaches upwards and goes behind my head, pulling my hair free from the bun. I reach up instinctively, but I don’t even know what there is to do with my hand. She tosses the small hair tie to the floor without hesitation, holding my chin before I can look down to see where it landed. 

“It’s been weeks, and I’ve never seen your hair out of that bun…” she shakes her orange hair out, shivering comically for emphasis. “I don’t know how you stand it.” 

She lets go of my hand and chin. I just stand still while she resumes pouring two small drinks. Eyeing the unlabeled liquor, I mumble something about having to drive home, but she pretends not to hear me and hands me a glass. She just leaves hers on the counter.

Without asking, she has her hands in my hair, fluffing up the sides, draping some over the side of my face, and combing it gently with her delicate fingers. I sip my drink, but only because I want something to do as I stand here.

“I…don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing…” I smile down at my drink nervously. Her nails feel nice when they run gently over my scalp. 

“Oh, you just stand there looking pretty, doll.” She grins at me again, and I suddenly understand what people mean when they talk about feeling like they’re melting in these situations. We stand there until my glass is empty…I’m feeling very relaxed after a few minutes of silence and gentle touching from such a gorgeous woman. 

“Good!” She takes my glass with one hand, lacing her fingers in mine with the other. “Let’s go downstairs, hmm?”

After my long day at work and a date that’s already lasted for more than four hours, I’m feeling too drained to do anything other than just nod, assuming downstairs is where the bed is. Tomorrow is Saturday, so I guess I can stay here…I hope she doesn’t expect an energetic performance – or any type of performance. 

She slowly leads me down some stairs, to a room that’s a lot less bright than her kitchen with its white-hot lights. I stare down at our conjoined hands, considering the contrast between her pristine maroon claws and my natural nails. For some reason, I’m struggling on the narrow wooden steps in my delicate heels. When we get to the bottom, she kneels and softly lifts my calves, one at a time, easing the glossy heels off my feet. 

I look around, curious as to why this lower level looks so different from the rest of her house. Upstairs, there are white walls and modern furnishings under an abundance of white lights… but down here, the walls are made of old wood paneling, and I can only see one ceiling lamp hanging over a short stool that sits on a square of linoleum tiles among the greyish carpet that covers the rest of the room. 

“What’re we doing?” I’m too drowsy to form a longer sentence than that, but I feel like raising my voice to ask her where I can go to sleep, like a grumpy toddler. 

She guides me towards the stool without saying a word. After I’ve obediently taken a seat, she smoothes my hair down with a touch that feels loving. I can see lots of little jars and bottles full of color on a rickety end table pushed against the wall in front of me, and I realize that it’s a makeshift vanity, with no mirror. 

“I’ve been just dying to get you down here, love…” her tone is playful, but she knows she’s being ominous. “I just get so excited when I see a prissy office lady with her modest clothes and neat hair…” She gives my shoulders a sudden squeeze, looking straight ahead at the blank wall where a mirror should be. 

“Huh?” I’m slightly wounded at the fact that she thinks I’m prissy, but I can’t express it. In fact, I find that I’m too tired to even stand up…I wish she’d just say what she’s trying to do already.

Like she can hear my thoughts, Lena starts to speak again. “You need a big style change, love. You just be good and sit there while I get to work.” 

Feeling like I can hardly comprehend what she’s saying, I just shrug my shoulders. This stool is so small and awkward that I have to pull my legs up and rest my feet on the rounded bar that circles it. With my shrug, Lena’s hands leave my shoulders, and she pulls out a wooden drawer in the end table with a scraping noise. She seems so tall now that I’m sitting in this ridiculous…baby stool. I feel like a baby as I watch her unwrap a scrap of fabric and palm whatever had been wrapped up in it. 

She smiles at me, but it’s a different smile from before. I can’t see what she pulled from the cloth, and I crane my neck to try and steal a peek at what she has in her hand as she returns to her position behind me. I can’t help but slouch in this stool, mostly because I’m drained.

“That’s it, love, get nice and relaxed. You don’t have to sit up straight with me.” I don’t even care what she’s saying to me when her voice is that soft and soothing. I feel a comb against my scalp, traveling down towards the perpetual split ends I’m so resentful of.

Apparently in my head again, Lena twirls a lock of hair between her slender fingers. “These ends won’t be a problem for you after you leave here, won’t that be nice?” She sounds chirpy and pleased, so I just nod my head in agreement. She giggles, starting on another section. I just stay quiet while her comb slowly runs through my hair, turning me into a 360 degree curtain of blonde. “You’re being so good…” she mumbles, slipping the comb under the wall of hair she’s covered my face with. In a fluid motion, she pulls the section up towards the ceiling lamp’s dull orange rays.

 

3 – A Big Change

My hair only falls a few inches below my shoulders, but since I’m in this small stool, Lena hardly has to reach upwards to hold my hair straight up, positioning the comb where my split ends begin. Dipping my head from fatigue, I stare down at my folded hands. I’ve never felt this…dull before. I snap back to reality as a five-inch strip of hair lands squarely in my lap. I blink, not really sure what to say or do. Smaller snippets come raining down, then another hunk the size of my palm. 

When she’s done trimming the section, Lena allows the cut strands to fall back over my face, and even in my haze I notice that they’re lighter than they were before. I reach up and play with the freshly-trimmed ends against my chin, my other hand toying with the hair that had fallen in my lap. Lena pauses, then speaks with such satisfaction in her voice that I perk up. 

“You like how that feels, doll?” Her soft fingers are on top of mine. “I love this thick, straight hair, too…” I can hear her breath hitch in her throat. “Mm…maybe I should do a little more than trim it…hold these!” 

She sets her comb in my hand, along with a dainty pair of stylist’s scissors. I can’t help but lift the hair away from my eyes to watch her rifle through a box that had been sitting under the vanity. This time, when she finds what she’s looking for, she doesn’t hide it from me. My eyes widen as she holds a pair of clippers up to my face.

“Lucky for you, I’m not giving you a punishment haircut…” she leans in close, a delicate finger under my chin. “But when I’m done with you, you’ll hardly know the difference.” 

Stepping away, Lena sets the clippers down on the vanity. Her sweet, pleasant smile is back as she holds out her hand for the comb and scissors. She haphazardly tosses the glossy wooden comb on the floor, and the clattering it makes seems extremely loud in the heavy silence in the rest of the room. 

“I’m gonna have short hair?” I mumble, letting my hair swing back over my eyes. I feel all docile, like a little bunny. A patronizing mm-hmm seems to echo in my ears.. 

“Right after I get rid of the rest of this bulk, sweetie.”

I furrow my brow in concentration as I try to think about what’s happening. Try as I might, I don’t seem to care that she’s about to take my hair from me…plus, Lena is clearly having fun. Strangely, the realization that I’m being treated like a plaything makes me blush and squirm a little. 

Loud snipping noises below my earlobe bring me back from my thoughts. Looking down, I can see a delicate hand wrapped around a big portion of my blonde locks as she works the scissors above her fist. Soon, with Lena’s giggles of satisfaction, even more hair is dropped onto my tan slacks. Once again, I stare down at the pile nestled in my lap while my fingertips explore the soft new ends resting on my jawline. 

“You’re the best-behaved girl I’ve ever had down here, baby.” She pats my head affectionately, and I smile…I really like that she’s pleased with me. Lena makes an “aww” noise when she sees my smile, and swoops down to give me a gentle kiss. Even though I’m extremely drowsy, my heart still starts to pound hard and fast.

“You’re a very good girl.” She continues to cut in a neat line around my head, taking her time so the scrunching and snipping sounds are loud and slow. After each section is laboriously hacked off, Lena makes a point of dropping all the hair into my lap for me to play with. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding after that kiss, and it only beats harder as the very last lock is severed. I can feel that she’s leveled the rest of my hair with the front section, exposing my neck on all sides.

“Poor thing, you can’t even see…” I can hear the teeth of the sleek wooden comb slide against the linoleum as she picks it up. “I hardly ever get to give girls bangs.” Positioning the comb above my eyebrows, she makes short work of it with the small scissors. When she’s done, I look up into her eyes and she leans down to give me another kiss. Her lips are luxuriously soft and warm on mine…I can feel a certain stir again. Some hair from the front of my face had fallen on my black shirt, so I start brushing it down into the ever-growing pile I’m cradling in my lap, and Lena helps me, if only to put her hand over my breasts. She notices that my movements are extremely sluggish. 

“Don’t worry, doll, you can take a nap when I’m all done with your hair, okay?” I nod, agreeing with the kindness in her voice instead of actually having registered what she’d said.

Lena places her fingertips at the top of my head, snipping the scissors in the air as she thinks. I stare up at her gorgeous face, blinking slowly like a toddler. A smile forms at the corners of her mouth, so I dumbly smile back. The cold steel of the scissors slides against my temple, and sizable locks of hair begin to fall to my shoulder on their way to the floor. She pauses to level the cut with my bangs, then plunges the blades further back to continue the new line. 

“Such a good girl,” she says again, pushing my head down as the scissors travel across the back of my head. She’s less patient now, eagerly shearing me as quickly as she can…her movements are almost erratic. After no less than a minute or two, I have a bowl cut with some length left underneath the edges. She walks in a circle around me, visibly pleased. “Have you ever been shaved, doll?” I shake my head, liking the way the hair towards the top of my head swishes around.

Lena drops the comb and scissors on the vanity before she kneels to plug the clippers into the wall. “Stand up, sweetie.” She’s smiling at me as she offers me her hand, so I gladly take it and allow her to help me up from the stool. The dull blonde mountain that had been in my lap tumbles silently to the floor in front of me. Still holding my hand, Lena guides me closer to the vanity. I have to rest my hands on it to stand properly. Without another word, she snaps the switch to turn the clippers on. 

After she’s completely stripped the hair below my bowl cut from my head, the scissors and comb are in her hand again, and she takes another few minutes to shape the blocky blunt cut. I can hardly keep my eyes open by the time she sets the tools down. 

“All done, love…you did so good.” She pecks my cheek as she takes my hand. “Time to sleep, yeah?” I nod as vigorously as I can, but it turns out as more of a regular nod. We make the trek back up the stairs, and she guides me to the couch instead of making me climb more stairs to her bedroom. 

“Sleep tight, hon.” she gives me her beautiful smile again, her hand ruffling my hair as my eyes close.

 

4 – A Square No Longer

Bright sunlight shining on my face pulls me from what must’ve been the deepest sleep of my life. My whole body feels stiff, as if I hadn’t moved an inch since I fell asleep. Looking around, I notice that the house is completely silent. On the sleek black coffee table, a white scrap of paper with my name on it stands out. Turning it over, I see that it’s a note from Lena, explaining that she’s gone to work, but she’s left some gifts in my car, and that I could help myself to anything in the kitchen. She signed the note with an invitation to come back when I need a trim, with a cute heart drawn at the end of the sentence in place of punctuation. 

A handwritten note is such a cute gesture…I decide to gently fold the note and slip it into my pocket. I can feel my mouth dry out as I reach up and feel my head. My fingers meet only stubble on the nape of my neck, but the hair gets progressively longer as my hand travels up to my crown. Finding my shoes placed nicely by the couch, I continue to feel my head as I look around for a mirror…it feels like she’s given me a feathery pixie cut with a fade…once I find the bathroom and switch the light on, I find that I was correct – and I look like a completely different person…I think I really like it.

After gawking at my reflection for a while, I wander out of the bathroom to find my purse. I need to get home and shower…and think about what happened to me yesterday. I’m so preoccupied with recounting the events of last night that I forget about the gifts in my car until after I’ve gotten home, showered, and changed my clothes…there were a lot of stray clippings under my shirt.

Looking in my backseat, I find the shopping bags from the clothing store we visited, and an expensive-looking leather bag that’s shaped like a box. I peek in the bags on my way back inside to find revealing dresses, tight tops, and short skirts, all designer, and in bold colors that I would never have selected for myself. Brand-new makeup and nail polish in a wide array of shades are tucked neatly into the boxy leather bag, nearly filling it to the brim. 

I set the presents down on my dining table and stand over them as I slowly realize how lucky I am. After a long while, I finally pick out an outfit and take the makeup bag with me to the nearest mirror, thoroughly excited to explore the possibilities. 

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