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Of all the towns and cities that I’d been in and all the hair salons that I’d seen, I’d never seen one with the name “Hairplay”. Was it deliberate? Was there more to it? Was it just an attempted pun on “Airplay”? Why wasn’t it two words? So many questions, so many images, so much wishful thinking.

I’d never been to this town before, never had occasion to, but it had just been added to my “patch” under a restructuring. You know the sort of thing: fire half your staff and double the workload of those that are left. I’d been buckling under the strain before all the nonsense had started and now I didn’t know how I was going to cope. Well, I did. I had just been to a job agency in between calls. The search for a new job had begun, although I was starting to have second thoughts now that I had seen “Hairplay”.

The only perk of my job was the travel, the ability to scour many High Streets for interesting-looking salons, interesting-looking stylists. There was only so much hair stuff on the internet and someone who spent as much time in hotels as I did, devoured the various offerings rapidly. The internet couldn’t keep up with my demand, so I was forced to look for supplements to my diet. I had a hair deficiency and had been forced to become ever-more resourceful to compensate.

The drawback was my job. I had to present a wholesome professional image, so was unable to do what I wanted to do, which was to get rid of the solidly professional haircut and go short. I didn’t have it cut with clippers, much as I always wanted to. It was a scissors and comb job, still long enough when I came out of a salon to grab a handful if anyone was so inclined. Up until recently, my girlfriend, Laura, had presented a second layer of complications, because I had never felt able to “come out” to her or any other woman that I had been close to. My interest in hair and haircuts was a solitary one, even though I hoped that the circumstances would be right to share my hobby with someone at some point in the future.

I cruised past “Hairplay” a second time, trying to see without being seen. It didn’t say that it was unisex on the outside, but then it didn’t say that it wasn’t. There was just that word and a phone number. I wanted to ring it and ask whether they’d meant “Hairplay” to be two words and the sign writer had messed up. They probably wouldn’t appreciate that, I decided. I put the number into my phone for future reference and headed for the car.

Events moved quite quickly after that. I was struggling under the workload, hardly ever home and when I was, it wasn’t pleasant for Laura or for myself. It was all her fault of course, for not understanding the strain that I was under and it was her fault for being overly-sensitive when I told her to “fuck off and leave me in peace” while I was watching the football. I had to hand it to her. She did fuck off, with a suitcase. To her mum’s. That was nearly a year gone in a few words.

The strain of Laura walking out like that caused me more strain, which led me to discovering that my boss didn’t appreciate the sentiment either. I thought that he’d got a thicker skin, but he said that while he could take being told to “fuck off” by someone who was delivering on his targets, he wouldn’t take it from someone who’d shown that he couldn’t step up to the plate. He suggested that I should look for another job, which prompted me to reveal that I was already looking. We decided that it was best for both parties if my search became a full-time one with immediate effect.

Sitting in an empty flat is no better than sitting in a hotel room. You have access to your full stash of “entertainment” of course, but it’s still not a great experience. I’d tried to talk to Laura, but her mother was an effective barrier that I just couldn’t get past. I consoled myself with deep research into my favourite subject, searching feverishly for new material, but being constantly frustrated by dicks who just recycle the same old stuff time after time. Why do they do that? In the good old days, every click brought something new. Nowadays, most clicks lead to the disappointment of familiarity and reduced quality. If only those people knew how much time they wasted for genuine perverts, how much frustration they caused. I just hoped that it was worth it for them.

I used the guise of my job search to scout for live entertainment in town, looking through salon windows in hope, sitting on strategically-placed benches in malls to watch the footfall in and out of salons. It was clutching at straws and doomed to failure 99 times out of 100. The only positive was that I didn’t have to worry about what Laura would say if I cut my hair. There were drawbacks in my change in living arrangements, like not getting laid, but not having to worry about an adverse reaction to a haircut was a definite plus. Not that the right circumstances to do anything with my hair had presented themselves yet.

I couldn’t spend too much time in one place, for fear of being thought of as a weirdo or something, so I found myself travelling from town to town. In between salons, I did make visits to job agencies too, but quite a few seemed to have a fairly narrow view of people who had found themselves on the job market so unexpectedly. The more salons I sat outside or walked past, the more I wanted to go in and get my hair cut. Not just an ordinary cut, but one that would strain the front of my trousers. I wasn’t sure if I dared to go really short, particularly not since I needed to deal with the reality of a less than healthy bank account and little immediate prospect of doing anything about it. I needed to look employable, but I needed to feed the beast too. It was a beast that had existed on meagre pickings for too long, a beast that had been caged by Laura and others like her, but one that could now be allowed to roam if I wanted. The thing that was keeping me from opening the door was the fear that I wouldn’t be able to coax it back in when I needed to. What would happen then?

It was four days before I took a longer drive and turned into the street where “Hairplay” was. I just wanted to see it again, make sure that it really was called that. It was. It was down a narrow side-street. There were no benches, no obvious vantage points. You had to walk past and turn your head if you wanted to see what was happening inside. There wasn’t even the option of a sideways glance, the situation required a full head turn. Try explaining that when you’ve done it four or five times. I did the next best thing and parked the car down the street to watch comings and goings, cop-show style.

It had meant an early start, but I was rewarded by the sight of the staff opening up the shop in the morning. There was a willowy blonde with hair down past her shoulders and a slightly older woman with short, darkish hair. When I say “older”, she certainly looked the right side of forty and had a lovely arse when she bent down to undo the lock on the shutters. So it looked like there was one younger than me and one older than me, almost as if I were writing the script. I checked my watch and decided that I would have time to go and get a coffee and something to eat before any clients arrived. I headed down the street, walking briskly, hoping that they kept traditional hours.

I was back in minutes, laden with carry-out coffee and a bacon sandwich. I got back in the car and looked towards the salon. My view was obscured by something attached to the windscreen. Fuck! I looked both ways up and down the street. It was empty. How had my absence for five minutes coincided with a fly-past of some parking-official person. I reached out and round, peeling it off. I tossed it in the passenger footwell. It had become an expensive day and I hadn’t done anything yet. I ate and drank, not tasting anything, not enjoying anything, not with that piece of yellow lying there, gloating at me. I decided to abort the mission.

I was just wiping my hands when I saw a figure hurry past. Trying to run, but not quite managing it, in that way that women in heels have. I heard the clicking on the pavement, imagining them higher than they were. They belonged to a fine looking woman, from behind anyway. I preferred my women from behind, so that was good enough for me. It might have a face like a horse, but I’d certainly give it one on the evidence that I had. I was still telling myself that some women might find such an attitude offensive, when I realised that the only destination for her at that speed was likely to be “Hairplay”. I was right.

She turned into the doorway and was gone. I tried to remember as many details as possible, the blonde hair swinging as she half-ran, the contrast of her hair with the material of her dark dress. The shoes, the arse, the whole package. I filed the shoes and arse away separately, remembering why I was sitting there with a parking ticket on the floor and the smell of bacon wafting around me. I decided to sit tight and wait for her to emerge.

A few minutes later, another client went in. This one was borderline, although in the current drought, I probably would have. She had long hair, usually a deal-breaker for me, although if she was prepared to cut it, she would be back in contention. She too went into the salon, which only seemed right, given the name. She had plenty to play with.

I knew that I was in for a wait. Two stylists. Two clients. No-one else would be scheduled for an hour or so. I watched a street-sweeper go past. I turned the radio on. I turned it off again, annoyed at petty local issues. I tried to think of the best way to start another relationship. There should be women queueing up to go out with a handsome thirty-something such as myself, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood why I was single, sitting watching women going in and out of a hair salon. Maybe I would have to work on my attitude to women and get another job before the queue started to form.

After almost an hour, “dark dress” emerged onto the street. She walked towards me. Collar-length blonde hair was now cheek-length red hair. Bright red. “Dark dress” didn’t have big tits, but they were sufficient to trouble the front of her dress I wasn’t a “massive tit” man, and was certainly happy to accept what I was given in most cases. “Dark dress” was pretty, no hint of horse at all. She walked past the car on the other side of the street and I watched pretty front become sexy rear. Her hair was cut high up the back of her head. There was a stirring in my jeans. I went into pursuit mode and opened the car door. I stayed on the opposite side of the street and tried to look like I was interested in everything except her, whilst trying to focus on what looked like a wonderful haircut. She went into a shop, giving me a chance to catch up to her. It was a coffee shop, which meant that I could follow her in. I stood in line behind her, with just a burly guy in overalls between me and what had just become the woman of my dreams. I wanted to smell her, smell the salon on her, but all I could smell was sweat and cigarettes from the guy in front. By the time that I had ordered a coffee that I didn’t want, she had gone. I was out of the shop just in time to see her go into an office building down the street. I put the coffee in the first bin that I saw and went back to my car, half expecting to see another parking ticket. There wasn’t one, but I cursed myself for letting my dick lead the way.

I settled back into my seat and reached for my phone. Unless I had been really unlucky, there was a free stylist. I scrolled down to the number I had saved from my previous visit and dialled.

A pleasant sounding voice answered after three rings. I wondered which one it would be. The lithe younger one or the experienced, mature one? I suspected that even the younger one had more experience than me. She was probably in her late twenties if not older, it’s just that she was younger in comparison with the other one. She probably had teenage kids for all I knew, and there was I thinking of her as just out of school.

‘Hi, I was wondering if you cut men’s hair’ I said, hastily returning to reality.

‘We do’ the voice replied, guarded.

‘I don’t suppose you have anyone free for a cut this morning do you?’ I ventured.

‘I’ve not got anything this morning, I’m afraid. The first morning appointment I have is Thursday.’

‘It doesn’t have to be morning, it’s just that I have some free time this morning. When could you fit me in?’

‘What’s it for?’ the woman’s voice asked.

The obvious answer was on the tip of my tongue. It’s for a haircut, you work in a hairdressing salon, what do you think it’s for? I needed to work on my attitude, I really did!

‘I’m open to suggestions. Maybe a change is on the cards’ I replied.

‘I like it. Cards. Playing cards. Hairplay’ she replied. She was a sharp one!

‘Very good’ I said, trying to sound like I meant it.

‘I could do five this evening if that’s any good. We could have a little play then’ she said.

‘That’d be great’ I replied, my heart sinking, because I had to burn the rest of the day while I waited.

‘Your name is..?’

‘Gary’ I replied. It wasn’t, but it was the one that sprang to mind. I wondered if she would get the reference. There was a chance, if it was the older of the two that I was talking to.

‘Great. I’m Denise. I’ll see you at five then’ she said.

The conversation ended. I was booked in to “play around” with Denise. Why did I feel deflated?

I drove away and went to the next town to continue my research, but eventually left disappointed. No-one that I saw matched up to “dark dress” and her stunning new haircut. I cut short further potential disappointment and went home. Once there, I realised that it had been a mistake. Being at home meant that I would watch one of my films. Or more than one. I wanted to be fresh for my visit to Denise. I picked up a book that I had been reading for a month or more without really getting in to it and started to put the time in.

I was down the street from “Hairplay” shortly before five, showered and shaved, with clean clothes on. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I didn’t want to look like a tramp or smell like one for that matter.

I walked the last few steps to the salon and opened the door. I was struck by wallpaper with large flowers on. I was back in the 1970s. The dark-haired woman was sitting at reception, the opening of the door triggering her “look up and smile” reflex.

‘Hi. I’m Gary’ I lied. ‘I’ve got an appointment with Denise.’

‘I’ve been expecting you’ she said dramatically.

I looked around the salon, wondering where the other stylist was. Not there anyway. It was just me and the mature one, who wasn’t that mature close up. Early forties maybe, but well-maintained. She had got up and was standing expectantly, waiting patiently for me to complete my survey.

‘Let’s see what we can do for you, Gary’ she said.

Everything over the course of the next few minutes went the way that things do in a salon. There was a bit of general chat, a bit of more personal stuff and then it was off to the basin to get washed. The water had barely started to flow when the phone rang. As if by magic the other girl appeared and answered it. I discovered that inviting clients to “come and play” wasn’t reserved for me, it was a part of their carefully devised identity.

The comment gave me a way in.

‘Where did the name of the salon come from?’ I asked innocently.

‘I had a friend who played with her hair, twirled it round her fingers all the time, it’s partly down to her’ she replied.

‘And the other part?’

‘The other part we like to keep to ourselves, for a while anyway’ she replied cryptically.

I was trying to concentrate on the way that she washed my hair, but a comment like that couldn’t go unchallenged.

‘So what do I have to do to find out?’

‘We have a loyalty scheme for regulars. Come to us often enough and who knows, you might get an invitation’ she said, turning the water off.

It wasn’t until she was combing my hair through at the styling station before I brought the subject up again. The blonde stylist who had retreated into the shadows had come back and was sitting at reception

‘So are you going to give me a clue, or are you going to make me wait?’

‘It’s usually six visits before we consider anyone’ she replied.

‘How about if I pay for six haircuts, would you tell me then?’

‘My, you are curious, aren’t you?’ she said.

‘Maybe I like to play the same sort of games as you.’

‘Who says we play games? This is a hair salon, not an amusement arcade’ she said.

‘How about if I give you my credit card now and we speed things up a bit’ I offered.

She stopped combing and looked at me in the mirror.

‘I’d need to have a chat with Jenny first. We both have to agree on new members, that’s why we wait a while before we offer anyone membership.’

‘I’m in no hurry if you want to talk to her.’

‘She hasn’t really had a chance to talk to you, neither have I for that matter. There’s another member due in shortly, we have to consider her too’

‘Maybe next time then’ I conceded reluctantly.

She tousled my hair with her left hand, allowing it to linger. It felt good.

‘You like that?’ she asked.

I hadn’t realised that I’d closed my eyes.

‘It’s very relaxing, yes’ I spluttered.

A single hand became two, a hand at rest became a head massage. There was less space in my jeans. She hadn’t even picked up the scissors yet. After a couple of minutes, I was ready to go to sleep.

I was jarred back to the moment by a loud, mechanical sound. I opened my eyes and saw that the other stylist was by the door. The sound that I had heard was the door being locked. She drew down a roller blind.

‘Maybe we could fast-track him’ the blonde said, looking at me.

‘Are you happy with that?’ my stylist asked. I thought that she was asking me, but she was checking with her colleague.

‘He seems nice’ the blonde said.

‘Well, we’d better let Gary here get his credit card out and then we’ll see if he’s interested in the benefits of membership’ Denise said. She stood back, knowing that my wallet was underneath the gown somewhere. I dug in my pocket, grateful for the opportunity for a quick adjustment. I wriggled my hand from under the gown and passed the card to the blonde. It was about to become the most expensive haircut and most expensive day once I added in the parking ticket. The blonde came over with the card machine. I winced at the figure she’d put in, but entered my secret number anyway. I’d worry about how to pay it later.

‘There’s your card back Gary, or should I call you Paul?’ she asked with a smile. How stupid could I be? Of course she’d seen my real name on the card.

‘Just my little joke, sorry, couldn’t resist’ I confessed.

‘Seems we’re not the only ones who like to play’ Denise said with a nod to the blonde Jenny.

‘So does that mean I’m in?’

‘I think we’ll accept you as a member, whether you get to stay or not this evening depends on there being no objection from the lady who isn’t expecting anyone else to be here when she arrives.’

‘How about we just say that if she’s not happy, I’ll go. We could do it another time?’

They both agreed

‘So are you going to give me a clue about what to expect?’ I asked.

‘We don’t have any set activities. We just see what happens, we play, whoever is here just plays. If someone doesn’t like something, it’s stopped immediately.’

‘Sounds intriguing.’

‘It can be. This evening could be a challenge because the girl who’s coming in has short hair. It sorts of limits what you can do a bit. But We’ll see what happens’ Denise said.

The two stylists excused themselves and left me alone, gowned and ready for a haircut, but without a stylist to provide one. I had no idea what was going to happen. What would two professional stylists offer? What would make a female client come in after hours for “hair play”? My imagination was more than capable of coming up with scenarios, but this place had a reputation to maintain, surely.

A few minutes later, Denise was back. I watched her come through the doorway. The woman who had gone out the same way had shortish dark hair and was wearing a starched white tunic with pink edges. This woman had long black hair, onto her chest. I was able to judge where the ends sat, because she wasn’t wearing the tunic anymore. She was wearing the sort of kit that I was used to seeing only at Christmas and my birthday. Black bra and knickers with red trim and fishnet stockings. She might be classed as “mature” by some people, but she’d get my vote for “MILF of the Year” any day.

‘It’s a bit obvious, but men seem to like this sort of stuff’ she said. ‘I was going to wear something different for our other player, but since you’re here, you get this.’

‘Wow!’ I said, not sure how far I should go with my appreciation.

The other one walked in.

‘That’s what we wear if we don’t have to pander to male fantasies’ she said.

I looked from black underwear to Jenny in some sort of flimsy white gown type thing, that probably had a name, but I had no idea what it was. It was long, covering her well below her knees, but it was transparent or translucent or whatever the word is. Whatever the technical term, I could see her knickers through it and I could see that she didn’t have anything else on. I could understand why Denise would prefer to wear the more casual stuff, rather than be trussed up the way that she was.

‘We like to relax for these sessions’ Jenny said, seemingly unaware that my eyes were out on stalks. She was oblivious to the way that I could see her almost naked. This was worth the price of admission alone.

‘If you want to get more comfortable, there’s a shower through there with a gown that you can put on. Let things breathe’ she said with a wink.

I was barely out of the shower at home, but I accepted the offer, wanting time to think things through. What was this place?

Calling it a shower didn’t really do it justice, it was more of a wet-room and could cater for several people in comfort. I wondered how often this place got used or whether someone lived on site. It was well-enough equipped for that. I did what I had to and then selected a rather nice, fluffy robe, knotting the belt round my middle. I looked down to see if anyone was making their presence known. I wondered whether I should put my underpants on. I had no idea what the etiquette was. I decided to err on the side of caution and stepped into my underpants again. I took a breath and headed back to the salon. I was just about to breeze into the room, when I realised that there was somebody else there. The woman they were expecting.

It was the last woman that I was expecting. It was the woman from this morning, the one that I had tailed down the street. She turned to see who had come in.

‘Come in Paul. We were just explaining to Scarlet that you were here and checking that she was okay with it. Probably should have waited before you had a shower’ Denise said.

‘I understand. I’ll get dressed again’ I said, embarrassed that I had got ahead of myself. No woman in her right mind would want some strange man around when she was planning some sort of special evening.

‘No, it’s fine’ the new woman said, with the beginnings of a smile.

‘Scarlet doesn’t mind, so you’ve saved everyone some time’ Denise said.

I was glad that I’d got underwear on. The scarlet woman with scarlet hair was gorgeous close up. She’d been pretty good in my wing-mirror and as I stalked her down the street, but here she was, feet from me and not objecting to my presence.

‘I feel a bit over-dressed’ she said, a hand clasped to her chest.

‘You can change through there’ Jenny said, pointing to where I’d just come from. I tried not to stare.

She walked past me. I turned to watch her go, looking at the clippered hair at her nape.

‘Lovely, isn’t she?’ Denise said once Scarlet had gone.

‘Is her name really Scarlet?’ I asked.

‘Maybe’ Denise replied cryptically.

‘This morning it would have been Blondie, but this evening she’s Scarlet. She really liked her new cut, but it doesn’t give you a lot to play with. It’s so much easier when our guests have long hair. You can bind it up, do all manner of things. We had a woman suspended from the ceiling by her hair last week while we tickled her. She loved it’ Denise said.

I wasn’t sure what to say, but it gave me an insight into the sort of things that they got up to.

A couple of moments later, Scarlet came back. She had taken the notion of dressing casually to heart She too was wearing underwear that had a name that I hadn’t bothered to learn. It was some sort of leisurewear, lacy knickers that were almost shorts and a bra that was almost a crop top. Whatever it was, it was moulded to her curves in a not too tight sort of way, but tight enough for me to see pokies and the curve of her mound. The tits that hadn’t made much of an impression in street clothes appeared less overwhelmed by the current outfit. I had an image of puppies with noses tilted skywards while they sniffed out strange surroundings. Lovely.

‘Is this okay?’ she asked.

‘Whatever you’re comfortable with’ Jenny said. I took another visual helping of Jenny’s boobs and committed them to memory.

I looked at Scarlet’s hair again, the rich colour, the expert cut, the way that it followed the curve of the back of her head. I wanted to stroke it, but wasn’t sure of the etiquette. Was there such a thing as inappropriate touching at “Hairplay”?

‘Well, we can’t stand here all night, can we? We’re here to play’ Denise said brightly. Jenny reached out a hand to Scarlet and led her away through a doorway just off the main salon. I watched them go, wondering what they would get up to.

‘You look so sad’ Denise said.

I looked at her. ‘How could I be sad?’

‘Maybe it isn’t sadness. Maybe you’re just a kid on Christmas morning and you don’t know which present to play with first? You want to play with them all, but know that you can’t.’

‘You’re probably right’ I conceded.

She took my hand and led me the same way that Jenny and Scarlet had gone. I followed her into the room, aware that people were in there, people who could only reasonably be Scarlet and Jenny. There were a couple of massage-type tables in there, the one closest to the door was empty. The one on the far side of the room was where the two women were. Scarlet was lying on the massage table, face down. Her underwear or whatever it was, lay neatly on a chair to one side, together with Jenny’s excuse for a robe. Jenny was topless, straddling Scarlet’s prone body, her head bowed while she swished her long mane across Scarlet’s back. While she was swishing, she was stroking the hair on the back of Scarlet’s head.

‘So that’s “Hairplay”?’ I said quietly to Denise.

She nodded. ‘One variation of it, anyway.’ I was very conscious of what was going on in my pants.

‘Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute’ Denise said, patting the table. I was engrossed by the action on the other table, watching the ends of Jenny’s blonde hair tease their way up and down Scarlet’s body, up to her neck and then back down to her thighs, pausing to pay special attention to her buttocks. What made two hair stylists branch out into things like this? When Dawn came back, I hadn’t moved.

‘What’s the matter, don’t want to play?’ she asked.

‘Sorry, I was watching. I know I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself’ I confessed.

‘Feel free. You watch them, they watch you, whatever. None of us is forced to be here. I told you, if someone doesn’t like something, they can leave, simple as that’ she said.

I turned to her, reached up to touch her hair, but ended up brushing a boob accidentally. I pulled my hand back as if I’d received an electric shock.

‘What’s the matter? Never touched a tit before?’ Denise laughed.

‘I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry, it was an accident’ I stammered.

‘I think it’s time we played, don’t you? Give you an idea of what you’re allowed to do’ she said, still smiling. ‘Take that off and turn to the light’ she said. I took the robe off, tossing it to the side. I stood there in my underpants.

‘I’m waiting’ she said. I sneaked a look at Scarlet and Jenny while I slid my underpants down. I looked at Denise and then turned 45 degrees to face the light. I heard a click and a hum. I looked at her again.

‘Some hair isn’t allowed to play’ she said, looking down at my crotch. I didn’t know what to do. There’s no hiding an erection at the best of times, even when you have clothes on. I didn’t. I just had an erection in a room with three women. Scarlet turned her head towards me when she heard the noise. Denise took hold of my cock in her left hand and wielded the electric clippers with the other. How do you deal with that? I was having my pubes shaved off by a woman in full battledress, while two other women were feet away, with only a single pair of knickers between them. I looked round. Scarlet smiled at me, Jenny gripped her short hair and pulled, causing Scarlet to grimace slightly, but her gaze was unwavering. She was watching the full show, watching my cock impersonate a gear lever as it was shifted from this position to that. Then came the undercarriage. She was shaving my balls. Jeez!

When she was satisfied that she’d done a good job, she put the clippers down on the floor, and still crouching down, wrapped my cock in strands from her wig. She sensed that I was less than enthusiastic.

‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked.

‘I’m more a short-hair kinda guy’ I informed her.

‘That’s easily sorted’ she said, pulling the wig off. I’d expected to see the bob that she’d sported when I first saw her, but removing the wig revealed a neat cap of very short, dark hair. The hair she’d had in the salon had also been a wig.

‘That’s better’ I said. She nodded and reached for something else that she’d brought in with her. I’m not sure if it was proper massage oil, but it was some sort of oil and it was soon all over my cock, easing the action of her hand. It was strange, it didn’t feel like she was wanking me, it was more a sort of appreciation of my smooth skin than anything sexual. To me though, it was the simple sensation of a woman wanking me slowly,

‘This is more sort of hairless play than hair play’ I observed, looking over at Scarlet. She had turned over now, but was still looking across at me, even though Jenny was continuing to swish her long hair over Scarlet’s chest and then tantalisingly down to her belly. I was marginally too far away for a definitive opinion, but unless her pubes were super blonde and super cropped, she was shaved down there. Good. I looked down at the crouched woman in her sexy underwear and ran my fingers through her cropped hair. I heard a response and tightened my grip, hoping that she wouldn’t object.

‘That took you a while’ she said, planting a kiss on the end of my knob. She was right. It had taken me a while to loosen up.

‘I think it’s time to lose the bra’ I said, trying to sound masterful. It was worth a try.

To my astonishment, she reached behind her and undid the clasp, looking at me while she slid it off her shoulders.

‘You only have to ask’ she said with a smile. I cupped one of her boobs, testing the boundaries. She had full boobs, with big nipples, just the way that I like them. Not that I didn’t like Scarlet’s puppies or Jenny’s handfuls. That’s the great thing about tits, so much variety!

‘Why don’t you come over here?’ I heard, distracting me from my “get to know you” session with Denise’s boobs.

I turned round to see that Jenny had climbed off the table and that Scarlet was sitting up, her legs dangling over the edge. I stole a glance a Scarlet’s smaller, perky boobs, just as they’d promised under that top of hers. Her nipples were proud and pleased to be out and about. I walked towards her and stopped just a pace from her.

‘Kneel down’ she said.

I knelt.

‘Closer’ she said, opening her legs to make it easier for me. That confirmed that she was indeed completely shaven. From the way that she was sitting, I couldn’t see the best bits, but being invited to kneel between a woman’s legs is always a good thing.

She started to run her hands through my hair. I was really struggling to take everything in, it was too much of a good thing.

‘You look better with your cock shaved. Did you like it, when she shaved your pubes, shaved your balls, made them all smooth for someone to lick?’ I looked up at her. Scarlet was a naughty girl. She waited for an answer.

‘It was nice’ I replied.

‘Nice? Nice is what you say to your aunt when she offers you a piece of cake’ she chastised. She adjusted her position slightly to display the start of her slit. She pulled my hair sharply. It hurt, but I couldn’t admit to it.

‘It made me hard’ I said.

‘You were hard when I came in, weren’t you?’ she said. She was mean. She pulled my hair harder.


‘I think we should cut this off’ she said, with a twist. I looked at her. For some stupid reason, I thought about my job prospects.

‘No please, I don’t want it cut’ I said.

‘So why are you in a hairdressing salon?’ she asked. I looked up at her.

‘I like to see ladies getting their hair cut’ I replied.

‘Is that why you followed me down the street this morning?’

Shit. She’d seen. She’d remembered. When I saw her in reception I’d looked for a hint of recognition, but had thought that I’d got away with it. My stalker skills clearly weren’t as good as I thought.

Yes’ I admitted.

‘So you like my hair?’

‘Yes’ I said. I watched her shift her weight, revealing a bit more slit.

‘Look up here, not down there’ she said realising where my eyes were focussed. It wasn’t as if there anywhere else that was in my natural field of vision. I needed a distraction.

‘You’d look really good with your hair slicked back’ I said, not sure why I thought of that just at that moment. I liked slicked-back hair on women, but why think of it just then? It was a substitute for a cut in many cases, took the hair off the face. I thought it looked sexy. I knew there was movement to the side, but kept my gaze on Scarlet. I saw Jenny’s head appear behind Scarlet. She must be kneeling on the table behind her. Jenny’s hand appeared above Scarlet’s head, holding something. It was a bottle. I watched glistening liquid stream from the bottle and onto Scarlet’s head. Scarlet’s grip weakened as she concentrated on what was being done to her. Jenny winked at me and carried on working the oil or whatever it was into Scarlet’s hair.

The sensation of what Jenny was doing distracted Scarlet’s attention away from me. I watched her close her eyes to enjoy it to the full. The act of closing her eyes seemed to trigger the urge to open her legs wider and then to check whether the bay doors were open or closed. I could have told her that they were closed, but she decided that she wanted them open to let some air in. A practised finger broke the seal and flung open the gates, which was the cue for her to open her eyes and give me the most disgusting, sexy look I have ever seen. I was torn between watching the beautiful scene unfold between her legs and the sight of a naked woman working oil into another naked woman’s hair. I could see that Jenny had dispensed with her knickers somewhere along the way, although she was mostly hidden by Scarlet’s body. I’d have to wait to see what sort of grooming she preferred. She changed her position from kneeling to sitting, scissoring Scarlet with her legs. That obscured my view, so I focussed on the change of texture and hue caused by the oil in Scarlet’s hair. I wondered what Denise was doing, but suspected that she was taking it easy, watching events from somewhere behind me.

As if she knew that I was concerned about her, I felt a touch on my shoulder and sensed her reach over me towards Scarlet.

‘You might want these’ Denise said to her. I looked up and saw that she was putting temptation Scarlet’s way. Scarlet took the gift and looked at it, as did I. She wasn’t sure what to do. Jenny wiped her oily fingers on Scarlet’s boobs and then down her thighs, from her knees to where it started to get interesting. There was a hum as Jenny found the switch. Her hand covered Scarlet’s and together, they moved forward, like one of those many-armed deities you see. The two right arms reached towards me, the buzzing getting louder as the hands got closer.

I was hemmed in by pressure from behind which a quick mental calculation of angles and heights could only be Denise’s knicker-area pressing against the back of my head. Her hands were on the sides of my head, ensuring that there was no room to flinch. The clippers in their two-handed grip touched my forehead and moved across the top of my head. The touch wasn’t as gentle as Denise’s when she had shaved my privates, but the difference could be easily explained by Scarlet’s unfamiliarity and awkward positioning.

The clippers stopped and moved back to the beginning, making another run and then another across the top of my head. Then they were turned off and the creature with two bodies leaned away. I felt Denise’s hand on the top of my head. I wasn’t sure whether she was feeling monk or clown, but I knew that it must look ridiculous. They were the same clippers that she had used down below, so there would be nothing but skin where they had been. Scarlet was smiling at me, her satisfaction immense, helped along by Jenny’s hands squeezing oily boobs again.

I had left the house in the morning prepared for a haircut in the right circumstances. The length of the cut was always likely to reduce depending upon the scenario and the stylist. If I was really turned on, it was bound to be shorter than I intended. Going home bald had never been on the agenda, but who could have guessed that I would find myself with three naked women? I pressed my head back against Denise’s lower belly, feeling her mound against my scalp. I wondered just how far this would go.

I manoeuvred myself round on my knees so that I was facing her. I put a hand round each of her ankles and decided to move my hands until she objected. Her hands went to my head, rubbing the hair at the sides and back and then stroking the clippered crown. I stroked her calves, moving up to behind her knees. I went higher into territory where alarms would start to ring, warning of intruders. I was halfway between knee and buttock, and then I reached her knickers. She hadn’t flinched. I had a buttock in each hand, both pleased and surprised at the firmness. This was a woman who looked after herself. Her fingers were still working on my head as I followed the border of her knickers from back to front. I had arrived at the promised land. I stroked the front with my fingers, politely-close to her waistband rather than any lower. The back of my index finger stroked downwards, her fingers stroked across my scalp and then gripped the back of my head, pulling me in to her. You know when a woman doesn’t mind you, when you have your face pressed to her crotch. I eased her knickers aside to get a glimpse of perfectly smooth flesh. Waxed rather than shaved? Probably. Very smooth, very soft. I kissed it, she tugged my hair a bit harder.

‘I think we should send you home like that, don’t you?’ she said.

With my face clamped to her pussy?

I looked up at her.

‘You look so much better like that, doesn’t he girls?’ she said with a gentle stroke. I didn’t believe her, but was willing to go along with it for the time being. Anyway, I was outnumbered. I looked round at Scarlet and Jenny, still intertwined. Scarlet’s hair did look much better all slicked back with oil like it was. I wanted to feel it. I gave Denise’s exposed mound a quick peck and got to my feet.

‘May I?’ I asked, reaching a hand out to Scarlet’s head. She turned her head slightly, not to object, but to present a better view for me. I touched her oily hair, feeling an immediate response from my cock. It took milliseconds to realise that he wasn’t reacting to me touching Scarlet’s hair, although he would on most occasions. He was reacting to Scarlet touching him. She gave me that look again.

‘May I?’ she parroted.

‘You don’t need to ask’ I said with a smile. If you’d told me when I chased her down the street that later on I would be stroking her slick hair while she had her fingers wrapped around me, I wouldn’t have believed you. Her touch was patient, unhurried, barely moving. Tantalising, frustrating. I wanted her to jack me off, but then what would I have to offer the other two, Denise in particular? Her other hand went to my head, her fingers running through my hair and then going to the top of my head. Her fingers were oily, so I was getting a scalp shine into the bargain. She was looking straight into my eyes, assessing me, challenging me in some way. I couldn’t look away.

‘Do you hate me?’ she asked.

I’ve made a point, ever since I was a teenager, never to hate any woman while she had my cock in her hand. It just doesn’t seem right somehow. Later, maybe, but never during.

‘No, I don’t hate you. How could I?’ I said, luxuriating in the slipperiness of her hair. She looked quite different with it like that and a million miles different from the blonde that strutted up the street this morning.

‘I’m glad you’ve let me play with you. It’s so much better than just watching, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Why were you watching me?’ she asked, more serious now. Her grip on my shaft was a bit tighter.

‘I like to watch women get their hair cut. I like to watch them change’ I said tentatively. Although we were intimate in one way, I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was spilling my innermost secrets just yet.

‘And did you like my change? Silly me, of course you did, that’s why you chased after me.’ she said.

‘I just wanted to look at your hair, I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

‘I wasn’t frightened. I thought it was funny. Thought you were going to give me a box of chocolates or flowers or something.’

‘I just wanted to look.’

‘So you didn’t want to touch? Didn’t want to feel? You’re feeling me now, aren’t you? Isn’t that better?’ she asked.

‘Yes to all of the above’ I said, looking over her shoulder at the attached Jenny.

‘I like you touching me, I like being touched. I liked my boyfriend to touch me, but he wanted to touch other women rather than me. That’s why he’s not my boyfriend anymore. That’s why I cut my hair. That’s why I’m here.’

She was doing more than her fair share of sharing. I felt mean to have told her so little.

‘I’m glad he’s not your boyfriend, because it made you cut your hair.’ I said.

‘You like short hair, don’t you?’

‘Yes’ I confessed.

‘Would you have liked me to go shorter? she teased quietly. She had the answer in the palm of her hand. She smiled. ‘You’d like Jenny to cut her hair wouldn’t you?’ she asked, changing tack. I looked at Jenny whose expression said “dream on”. Once more, she knew the answer before I could open my mouth. Jenny’s hands left Scarlet’s boobs and joined mine in massaging Scarlet’s scalp. I wasn’t sure if there was any conditioning benefit in having your hair all oily like that, but it couldn’t do any damage. I certainly didn’t think that I’d be suffering from any scalp dryness for a while, given the amount that my head had been rubbed with oily hands.

‘You like the way that feels, don’t you?’ I wasn’t sure whether she meant the feel of her own hair or the sensation of her stroking my own head with its devastated hair.

I nodded.

‘It’s lovely that you haven’t made a grab for my tits yet. There’s hope for men yet, as long as there’s ones like you around, more sensitive, more aware that there’s other ways to get what you want.’

She clearly hadn’t been paying attention while I had my face pressed to Denise’s mound. I wasn’t going to argue with her though. I felt caresses up and down my spine.

‘I think it’s time I shower that off for you, don’t you?’ Denise said. I was enjoying myself, but didn’t want to risk missing out on anything else on offer. I had no idea how long one of these sessions lasted. No one had mentioned that.

‘Yeah, thanks’ I said. I noticed that she’d taken her knickers off, but was still wearing the stockings and suspender belt.

I followed Denise down the corridor. I watched her arse as she walked. It was a beautiful sight, framed by the suspenders. Denise stood to one side when we got to the shower room and let me past. I wondered whether she would join me and whether she’d keep her stockings on.

‘It probably easier if you sit on the floor’ she said, looking at me.

Okay, I thought, that’s different, but it did mean that she’d be able to play with my hair more easily. I’d seen a number of safety razors on the shelf when I had my first shower. Maybe she was going to use one of those. I really hoped that at some point between now and when I left the salon that one of them would sort my head out. There was only one thing more scary than walking out bald and that was walking out half-bald. I did as I was asked and sat down. She stroked my head and crouched down to look me in the eye. She saw me looking where I probably shouldn’t, but you have to take opportunities when the present themselves. Her pussy lips were more prominent now than they had appeared when I had a preview earlier.

‘You like that?’ she asked, covering herself with her hand. She stood up before I had a chance to respond. My eyes followed her as she got up, watched her hand change position and watched as she went from trying to cover herself up to where she was opening her petals to my gaze.

Then she started to rinse the oil off my scalp in her very own way. I struggled to believe that I was sitting there like that, half-bald, while a woman pissed on my head. How disgusting is that? Then I reminded myself that some people pay good money for it. I wondered if I should have objected, but then decided that it’s probably rude to refuse if a woman offers to piss on you. I sat there, surprised at her, surprised at myself, but fascinated by the concept of watching such a private act at close quarters. I realised that I’d never be able to tell anyone.

Dawn finished and took a small step back, looking at me to see my reaction to what she had just done.

‘That’s not something I do for everyone, only people I like’ she said with a smile. She reached up for the shower controls and started to shower me in a more traditional sense. I sat there, taking the opportunity to tease her clit while she played the water jet over me and then shampooed what was left of my hair. When we had finished, I smelt of apples and wholesome things. I felt clean, although I knew that for a brief moment, I had been closer to dirty than I had ever been.

As she helped me to get dry, I asked her if she would do something for me. She looked serious as I explained, but didn’t give me an answer. I took the opportunity to feel her hair, running my fingers through it, tugging it while she smiled defiantly at me. She pressed her body close to mine so that I could feel her hard nipples against my chest. She was a real tease. She broke away from me and headed for the door.

‘Girls, there’s wine in the salon if you want to come through’ she shouted. I followed her into the salon. She pointed to a chair and told me to sit down. It was a chair to the right of where I sat when I was in the salon as a normal customer, a lifetime ago.

Moments later, Scarlet and Jenny appeared, accepting the glass of wine on offer. I watched Denise take a deep pull on her glass, amusing myself by thinking that she must be replacing fluids after her exertions in the shower. She drained her glass and looked at each of us in turn.

‘Shaving time’ Denise said. All eyes were on me, sitting expectantly in the chair.

‘Make yourself comfortable’ she said, looking at Scarlet, one hand on the back of a styling chair. It looked like Denise was going to grant me the request I made in the shower. Request? Dream? Fantasy?

Scarlet looked at her, looked at Jenny and then looked at me. I looked at her slick hair, looked at the traces of oil glistening on her neck. She sat down obediently and I saw Denise and Jenny have a little chat under the pretence of a quick fondle and grope. Jenny came and stood behind me, which explained the different seat. Denise had positioned me at her colleagues workstation. Denise didn’t appear quite ready, but Jenny was already in work mode, even if she wasn’t dressed for it. I took my first opportunity to examine Jenny more closely in the mirror, to appreciate her perky boobs, her flat stomach, her prominent mound with its impossibly-thin line of pubes starting from her slit and heading up her lower belly. Why bother? Just shave them off and be done with it. She started to work shaving foam into my crown. I had thought that I was about to have my stupid haircut sorted out, but it appeared not to be the case. I decided to ignore it and watch what Denise was going to do.

She had a hand on each of Scarlet’s shoulders.

‘Now Scarlet’ she said. ‘Remember when you said that you didn’t want to set any limits or restrictions? Is that still the case?’

‘I signed up for the whole thing. It takes the edge off it if you’re not prepared to just see what happens.’

‘See Paul, Scarlet hadn’t done 6 appointments either, but after the first three, we knew we wanted her, so we bent the rules a bit for her. That’s why she’s here this evening.’

I felt the first razor stroke on the crown of my head, checked in the mirror to see whether there was any sign of Jenny dealing with the rest of my hair. Apparently not. Denise turned Scarlet’s seat to face me and Jenny paused to mimic the movement. I was staring at a beautiful, naked woman while I was having my head shaved by a naked stylist, whilst naked myself. How on Earth had I got that lucky? There was even a spare naked woman standing behind Scarlet, just in case two naked women weren’t enough.

I looked at Denise, who had managed to get hold of a cut-throat razor while I was appreciating my good fortune. Her arms snaked over Scarlet’s head and with a touch here and a touch there, she managed to get Scarlet positioned just the way that she wanted her. There was no build up, no ceremony. The razor found its feet on the slippery surface and eased Scarlet’s sideburn out of the way, before repositioning itself to take some of the hair at Scarlet’s temple. I was just wondering what we would call Scarlet once this process was over when she stretched out her legs towards me. There is something about a foot getting close to your groin that instantly brings back memories from years ago of the pain about to be released. I fought the reflex, moved my right hand and allowed her feet to settle on my thighs before she brought them together around my dick. She made contact and I smiled in appreciation, looking at the growing patch of hairless skin on the side of her head.

Denise changed position and focussed on Scarlet’s forehead. The cleared area on the side of her head would make for a wacky haircut, but the position was still salvageable as long as the hair on the crown was untouched. Denise set about addressing that, slashing the tether on the life raft. Scarlet’s forehead extended backwards, further and further. The grip of her feet on my cock was maintained at just the right pressure, my resistance diminishing with every movement. Jenny was to my side now, apparently no longer interested in me. She had shaved the top of my head, but the rest was still untouched. I was sure that they would all have a good laugh about it at some point, but I really didn’t care. I was in the midst of something that was unlikely to be repeated, for me anyway. It might be a regular occurrence for them, but there was no way that I could experience the same sensations again, no matter how many times I was allowed to join them. This was a first time, and you could never reproduce a first time.

Scarlet remained compliant, kept the welcoming smile on her face. Jenny found a way to occupy herself, crouching at Scarlet’s side to drape her long blonde hair over Scarlet’s lap, allowing oily offcuts to mingle with her blonde perfection. Her apparent stillness was betrayed by fingers that were busy between her legs as she crouched. How was I meant to take all of that in? I needed one at a time in order to index the memories properly. This scene was just going to become a blur, with no detail properly captured. It was becoming more of an impression, but one that would have the inevitable result.

I don’t know whether it was due to the oil on Scarlet’s scalp, but the process of balding her didn’t last long. Her scalp was soon smooth, still shiny with the oily film, her hair overlaid on Jenny’s pristine tresses in her lap. She stroked Jenny’s resting head as a signal that it was time to get up. She released her grip on my cock and lifted her legs off me, folding them like some sort of machine as they moved. She looked to her left to gaze at herself in the mirror and then looked across at me. I watched her stand up and turn her back on me. I looked at Denise, who was also watching as Scarlet leaned forward to brace herself on the chair. She parted her legs and reached behind her with one hand, just in case anyone was in any doubt as to what she was trying to do. I was looking at the bulge and curves and parted lips. All the best bits. I looked at Denise again, looked at Jenny and in the absence of any rival attempts, took it upon myself to fill the void. I was out of the chair and calculating docking angles while still steadying myself on my feet. It seemed a lifetime ago that I watched a faceless blonde woman walk up the street, another lifetime ago that I pursued that same woman minus a couple of inches of hair and now here I was, having watched her have her head shaved, slapping my balls against her pussy lips. Denise smiled.

I’ve been fortunate enough never to suffer from “performance anxiety”, although I have failed to perform on a couple of occasions due to the curse of beer. I was just too drunk to be anxious about it. If ever there was a case for anxiety, this was it though. Screwing one woman whilst being watched by another two demands a certain something. I wanted to tell them to talk amongst themselves for a couple of minutes, but they stood there resolutely, Jenny’s arms casually draped round Denise in a girly bear-hug. I resolved to take my time, recite my nine-times table, think about the ugliest women that I had ever encountered. It didn’t work. Rather than the slow, controlled screw that was in progress in my mind, I was thrusting away like there was no tomorrow. I was glad that the chair was bolted to the floor. Scarlet was making the right noises, which I liked to think weren’t simulated. She appeared to be enjoying herself anyway. I knew that I was close and signalled to Jenny and Denise.

I counted down the remaining strokes and then pulled out. I turned to my left slightly, just in time to jet across the kneeling figures of the two stylists. I managed to hit both of them in the face and upper body, my cum hanging in a tenuous string between them. I was quietly pleased with myself, although would have preferred my performance to have been longer. There was no chance of an immediate encore. Scarlet stood upright and looked down on the two kneeling women.

‘I think that should’ve been mine’ she said with a smile. She leaned forward and kissed me, a hand caressing the bald top of my head.

‘You’re very sweet’ she said.

The two stylists stood up, both using the same towel to wipe my donation off themselves.

‘Time for a shower, I think’ Denise said, looking for anything that she’s missed. She shared a knowing look with me as if to say “not that sort of shower, a proper one.”

We discovered that it is perfectly possible for four people to use the same shower, although not very efficient. There are just too many distractions, too many people with things they want to touch and tweak. I did have the pleasure of having my whole body enclosed by three soapy women at once and the pleasure of being allowed to wash Denise’s short hair and Jenny’s longer hair, for a short while anyway. My interest was very much on Scarlet and helping her to get rid of the last traces of oil from her scalp. On the basis that many hands make light work, we all pitched in at various times with washing each other. No-one objected if a stray finger slid in somewhere that it didn’t really need to or something got squeezed with no discernible purpose. Eventually, we were all sitting in the staff room, in fluffy white robes, looking as if nothing untoward had happened. Except that Scarlet wasn’t scarlet anymore and I was comically tonsured. Jenny and Denise had made it through the evening unscathed.

‘So what makes you do this?’ I asked after a moment’s silence.

‘It’s a bit of fun. Believe it or not, it started out quite innocent, just as a session where we practised up-dos and wedding styles. There was lots of brushing and we saw the effect that it had on some people. We just let it develop and here we are.’

‘Haven’t you got a bit of a reputation locally for late night comings and goings?’

‘I don’t think so. If anything, we have a reputation for practising our craft’ Denise chuckled.

‘Isn’t it a bit weird during the day?’ Scarlet ventured.

‘Quite the opposite. We get on really well and we have the satisfaction of knowing what goes on after hours’ Jenny replied.

‘But you always manage to hang on to your hair?’

‘Not always. Some woman took the clippers to Denise a few weeks ago. Got herself banned for that’ Jenny explained. That explained the crop.

‘So you never plan to do anything with your own hair?’

‘We can’t really. We’d have none left and then we’d really get questions. We do as much as we feel we can. But we can be inventive with what we do and still enjoy it.’

‘Then you get poor souls like me’ I piped up.

‘What’s the matter? Don’t you like what we’ve done?’

‘I was maybe hoping for something a little less eye-catching’ I replied.

‘You never know, you might start a new trend’ Jenny laughed.

The hair play was over. We chatted as if we were out at dinner, robes stayed fastened and the conversation stayed sober. The evening was surreal.

I gave up on getting someone to shave my head properly and got dressed, ready to face the world looking like an idiot. Just as we were saying our goodbyes, Jenny cracked and told me to take a seat. The relief was immense, despite my trepidation at becoming a bald man at the tender age of thirty four. She draped a gown over me and picked up the clippers. I closed my eyes in preparation, opening them again when I felt the first pass up the side of my head. Jenny was standing to my left, too far away to be cutting my hair. My barberette was Scarlet. I was being shaved bald by a bald woman, an ending to my “hair play” session that was too perfect for me to have made it up. Scarlet wasn’t as proficient as Jenny or Denise, but she was good enough and I was more than happy to overlook any amateurishness. When it came to the shaving, it was a different matter. Scarlet stroked my clippered scalp a couple of times and passed the clippers back to Jenny.

Denise moved in for the shave itself, covering me with shaving foam before scraping away the remains of my hair with her cut-throat razor. One way to make you feel better about a full headshave is to start with half-a-headshave. After that, anything is an improvement. Denise offered to rinse my scalp once she had finished shaving me. I looked at her and smiled our private smile, allowing myself to be led over to the basin. I decided that I was safe enough, given the practicalities of her doing anything unconventional in that setting. She rinsed my scalp and dried it for me, leaving me to take in my new-found baldness on my own for a couple of moments. The three of them were chatting on the other side of the salon. I could hear talking, but had no interest in what was said. I reflected on the past couple of hours or so before standing up.

At the door, our goodbye was almost formal, a hug and a kiss on the cheek for each stylist. I let Scarlet walk out first, before realising that she was heading in the same direction as me. After a few steps, she stopped and turned to me. I looked at her expectantly. This was where the recriminations begin, I thought.

‘I need to be up early, but you’re welcome to stay with me tonight as long as you promise there’ll be no funny business’ she said seriously.

I kept a straight face for at least two seconds. She took me by the arm and we carried on walking. I decided that it was time to ask her her name.

‘I like Scarlet’ she replied, it’s more exotic than Jane.’

‘So it’s Jane, the Scarlet woman, how about that?’ I asked. She shrugged. I wasn’t as clever as I thought I was.

I followed her home in my car, after joking with her that I was following with her full knowledge and consent this time. She lived in a nice house, not the biggest in the world, but a cosy family home for a family that she didn’t have yet. I looked around for “man” evidence, anything that might cause someone to return unexpectedly. She realised what I was doing.

‘He’s not been here for a couple of months, so you’re safe. Anyway, he’s smaller than you.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘Are you ever serious?’ she asked. I shook my head. ‘I like that’ she replied.

She made me coffee, we sat and chatted, using up what remained of the evening. I asked her what had made her get involved with “Hairplay.”

‘It’s close to where I work. I needed to get my hair cut and they could take me during my lunchtime, so that was the first time. I was still with Dominic then. I liked Denise and went back to her. The third time I went they were both really nice to me and were chattier. The fourth time was this morning. That was my delayed reaction to Dominic, I suppose. I’d told them the previous time that I was thinking about a change and when I went in Denise was ready for me. Apparently, they’d already decided that I might be interested in their little side-show and had set out a test. They handed me a colour chart and decided that if I went for red or some wacky colour, they’d test the waters. I went for red.’

‘Then what did they do?’ I asked, to give her a bit of a break for moment.

‘They talked about therapies, about massages, about just letting yourself go. I liked the whole idea, but didn’t know what it really was. They just told me that it would be the three of us. No mention of men or anything. It was all meant to be candles and oils and massages. And then you appeared in your super-sexy robe’ she laughed.

‘So why did you stay?’

‘I was ready just for something completely different, just to let my hair down’ she said with a chuckle. ‘I liked the idea of someone playing with my hair and in a way, I’d already had time to get used to the idea of probably getting into a fairly intimate situation with a couple of women, which I’d never done. The idea of a man being there just added a dash of “normal” for me. In a way, it was you being there that let me really relax. I’m not sure that I would have gone that far if it had just been us three women’ she confessed.

‘Glad that I could be of service’ I replied.

‘I didn’t mean to shave your head though. Your hair was lovely, but I just got a bit caught up in everything.’

‘Look where it got you!’ I pointed out.

‘I know. My mother’ll freak out when she sees what I’ve done.’

‘Just tell her that it was a charity thing then.’

‘I suppose that’s a bit easier than to explain than the truth! I can’t believe that Denise actually shaved my head.’

‘Do you like it though?’

‘Oddly enough, I do. It’s very liberating.’

‘It suits you.’

‘And you’re not put off in the slightest, are you? You like bald women, I can tell. I’ve just realised. It’s not just short hair that you like, you like’em bald. I bet that it was you that put her up to it, put her up to shaving my head like that.’

I held my hands up in surrender. There was no point denying it when she’d seen first hand how it affected me.

‘What sort of pervert have I brought into my house?’ she chuckled.

I decided to “go for it”.

‘Have you got a computer?’ I asked.

She looked at me askance, but took me through to a study where there was a decent spec desktop set up, together with the usual home office paraphernalia.

‘Tell me I’m still going to be able to take it to get mended if I need to’ she said with a slightly worried look on her face.

‘Nothing I show you will get the police called, let’s put it like that’ I replied. ‘I just want to show you that I’m not as freakish as you might think.’

In moments, I had surfed to a favourite site and she was sitting on an office chair watching a middle-aged woman getting her head shaved in a salon. Scarlet was riveted and wanted to watch more. We paused while she made some coffee, but then she was back, a hand draped on my lap. I’d seen the films many times before, but I loved the idea of watching them with someone else, someone who was unfamiliar with the whole world of hair and shaving that had been sitting on her desk undiscovered.

‘You haven’t asked me what it felt like sitting there while she shaved my head.’

‘I thought you’d tell me eventually.’

‘At first I thought she was just teasing me, giving me a taste of my own medicine for what I did to you. When I realised that she was actually going to do it, it was so weird. I wanted her to do it, but I didn’t. I loved my hair, I loved what she’d done to it in the morning, it was so sexy, but the sight of the razor taking that first tiny bit was so sexy. I wanted her to do it so much, I didn’t care what anyone would say.’

I stroked her scalp, watching her close her eyes like a kitten being stroked. I looked at her pert boobs, slid a hand down to check the fit with my cupped hand. Perfect.

After three and a half films, she was watching on her own. I was on the floor, lapping at her pussy while she watched my all-time favourite film. Her hands were cradling my bald head, enhancing her viewing pleasure by actually touching a bald scalp while she was watching another one being revealed on the screen in front of her. I hoped that I was adding to her viewing pleasure too, particularly since my jaw was starting to ache. Eventually I got tapped on the shoulder and allowed to get up.

‘I only ever got popcorn when I watched a movie with Dominic’ she said with a smile. She reached up to wipe away a bit of herself from the corner of my mouth. ‘My, you’re a messy eater’ she added. I leaned in to kiss her, allowing her to taste her appreciation for the films she’d watched. We eased apart eventually.

‘So I take it you watch those rather than football’ she observed. I nodded. ‘They’re fun’ she added. ‘Have you got another one?’

I cued one up, which gave her a few moments to get naked.

‘How’d you like me this time?’ she asked, a picture of innocence apart from the fact that she was cupping her boobs, mound pushed forward provocatively. ‘Do you want me bent over a chair again, showing you all I’ve got before you fuck me?’

‘Now, let me see’ I said pensively. The idea was attractive, but I wanted something different this time. I sat on the chair, my back to the computer.

‘How considerate of you’ she said with a smile. She straddled me, lowering herself onto my cock, still able to watch the film. I closed my eyes momentarily, not believing that a woman this attractive would have just done that. We barely moved for a couple of minutes, she just kept making sure that I was still awake by squeezing me with her pussy muscles from time to time.

She roused me from my musings by breaking the silence between us.

‘I love the ones where it seems like a surprise to them that they’re actually going to get their hair cut. What did they think was going to happen?’ she asked.

‘I know, they’re my favourites too. You occasionally get one where they go along just for moral support and end up getting their own head shaved. I love those’ I said, emphasising my point with my hips. She gave me another squeeze and commenced the most sensuous, controlled fuck that I could remember. It was dangerously close to being classified as “love making”. It was slow and tender, accompanied by the music of clippers from the film. As much as I enjoyed the excitement of just taking her from behind in the salon, this was way better. I was a little concerned that my feminine side was revealing itself. Salvation came, the closer we got to cumming ourselves. We were on the floor, holding each other’s bald heads, gazing into each other’s eyes, while our groins did what they do in these situations. I watched Scarlet’s breath get shorter and shorter as our thrusting got more vigorous, until we reached the moment of “petit mort”. We held ourselves, motionless for a second and then subsided into our own warmth.

I lay there thinking how lucky I was, before my satisfaction was interrupted by the thought that I was effectively unemployed with very little means to support the lifestyle that I wanted. I was lying there free from the constraints of my secret life as a hair enthusiast, but bound by another, probably more serious consideration. I could exist as a closet hair enthusiast with a job, there was no future for an ‘outed’ enthusiast with no job. I needed to get one. An inability to share my inner desires had tainted all my other relationships, and now I was free from that, any chance of happiness was threatened by something much more serious. It was while stroking the most beautiful pointy boobs in the world that I realised that my attitude had changed. I wasn’t frustrated and angry any more. I didn’t need to tell people to “fuck off” anymore. I needed a job and I needed Scarlet. No more nonsense, no more excuses, I’d start the search in earnest in the morning. I was holding what I wanted and I wasn’t going to lose it. It had taken the loss of my hair to lead me to this point, but it was the most positive sacrifice that I could ever make. I kissed Scarlet’s nipples and headed south.
You may know of a salon called ‘Hairplay’. It isn’t this one!

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