HairApparent
A sequel to Layla, the New Neighbour with a Surprising Talent
Clara and I met at the café, the familiar air buzzing between us, but a deeper current flowed through my veins. I was bursting with anticipation, yet I could not shake the nervous twist in my stomach. As I waved at her from the table, I was acutely aware of how different I felt since that day with Layla. The unmistakable shift had brought along a strange liberation that resonated in my mind, more intoxicating than I had imagined.
Before I could speak, Clara’s wide eyes took in my transformation. ‘What happened to you, Allie?’ she exclaimed, examining my bowlcut hairstyle and the remnants of what had once cascaded down my back. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘No!’ I replied, my voice louder than intended. ‘It’s … it’s complicated.’
Indeed, it was! I decided it was prudent to leave out my mother’s part in urging me into the clutches of our new neighbour, Layla. Mum had wanted to me get a shorter hairstyle for some time and when Layla offered to cut it, Mum agreed without even asking me. Once I was in Layla’s chair, in her kitchen, she swiftly and gleefully reduced my long hair to a severe bowlcut like her own.
Clara breathed out, shaking her head slightly, disapproval clear in her gaze. ‘I would never cut my hair. You know that. It is part of me.’
‘I know,’ I said softly, grappling with my own doubt, straining to keep the conversation light. ‘But you should meet Layla. She has this incredible energy, and I think you would really like her!’
‘Is that why you chopped off all your hair? Because of this Layla?’
‘Yes … but it is not just that! She is fascinating, Clara. She has this way of seeing things, and I want to spend more time with her.’
‘More time? Allie, I do not like how this sounds,’ she said, crossing her arms defiantly. ‘Any more time, and you will end up bald!’
‘Actually, she said …’ I began, smiling, recalling breathlessly what Layla had said about my next haircut. Then, thinking better of it, I waved my hand dismissively. ‘No, it doesn’t matter …’
Clara snagged me with her piercing gaze as she did whenever I had done something of which she did not approve. ‘You are different, Allie. I am worried -’
‘Just meet her. Please?’ I encouraged, my anxious voice tinged with desperation. ‘Yeah, it is crazy, but it can be fun. Plus, she said if I find someone with long hair to visit her, we can spend more time together! And you have got the most beautiful hair, Clara. You could -’
‘No amount of coaxing will get me to shave my head, Allie,’ Clara snapped, her irritation palpable.
‘My head isn’t shaved,’ I sighed, thinking of the smooth cap of hair perched above my shaved back and sides. ‘Well, not completely shaved.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Clara sneered.
Having pushed so hard, I had a strong urge to back off and run. But my desire for adventure and the electric draw of Layla twisted my mind, compelling me to forge ahead. ‘You will love her! Just trust me, Clara. I will be there with you the whole time.’
After considerable back and forth discussion, the purchase of a second cup of coffee and then a slice of walnut cake, Clara hesitantly agreed.
= * =* =
As Clara knocked on the door, I called out to Mum. ‘Just popping next door, Mum … with Clara.’
‘With Clara? The one with the long hair?’ Mum responded enigmatically and rhetorically. ‘Ah, yes, Layla will like that … that’s nice.’
Her response confirmed that Mum knew something more about Layla than she was letting on. She said little when I was receiving my haircut, just intent on enjoying the spectacle and consuming a bottle of Layla’s red wine. However, since then, she frequently says that she cannot get over what a nice haircut I now have and how fortunate we are to have Layla next door.
I stepped out on the porch, shared a customary hug with my friend, and closed the front door behind me. As usual, a cloud of Clara’s golden hair enveloped me, as she never constrained it in ponytails, buns, or braids, preferring the freedom of it being loose … and swamping anyone who came too close.
We walked next door and, as I was about to ring the bell, the door swung open. Layla had anticipated our presence and rewarded us with a beaming smile.
= * =* =
As I stepped through the door, the familiar electric thrill of Layla’s presence hummed through me; engulfing me and seducing the air in the hallway with an allure I could not resist. She smiled, kissing the air over each of my cheeks, careful not to disturb the stunning bold makeup she had applied to her face, eyes, and lips. It complemented her dark bowlcut, identical to my own, and the stunning red leather miniskirt and black lace top that she wore.
Clara hesitated at the entrance, eyes darting toward me, but Layla had already moved in closer, her vibrant presence a force of nature.
‘Clara! So lovely to meet you.’ Layla’s voice was velvet, wrapping around us, her smile like a siren’s call that sent shivers down my spine. ‘What a lovely girl you are, and such magnificent hair,’ she said, gazing at Clara’s flowing locks with an intensity that made me flush with excitement and pride. ‘Come in, come in!’
Clara mustered a brave smile, inching slowly forward like a sheep led to a pasture. ‘I’m not staying long,’ she said, a hint of challenge slipping into her tone.
‘Oh,’ Layla murmured, disappointment edging her voice. ‘I think you’ll love it here … just like Allie.’
‘I don’t know …’ Clara drawled, her eyes nervously flickering between Layla and me.
‘Just embrace it,’ I whispered, my voice low but sounding charged with excitement.
Layla’s gaze never left Clara’s hair, a playful smile growing on her lips. ‘Tell me, Clara, what would you do if I suggested a change? A fresh start for your hair?’ she asked, her voice seductive yet compelling.
‘I’d tell you no,’ Clara replied, crossing her arms protectively over her long locks.
‘Never say never,’ Layla teased, stepping closer. ‘Allie here thought the same thing just last week. Isn’t that right, Allie?’
‘Yes … I, er … I liked what Layla did, Clara. It felt freeing.’ My voice caught in my throat, uncertain about where my truth now laid.
‘Exactly!’ Layla declared, her tone sharp and teasing. ‘I can show you the beauty of a new perspective.’
Before Clara could react, Layla’s fingers had tangled in her hair, the strength of her grip both alarming and bewitching. ‘Trust me,’ she said, leaning into Clara’s ear with a sultry whisper. ‘Let go … just this once.’
Clara shivered, her breath catching at the intensity of Layla’s gaze. ‘What if I don’t want to?’
‘Ah, but you do. You saw Allie’s hair before coming here, and you could have run away in dread. But you are here, Clara,’ Layla purred enticingly. ‘Deep down, you feel it, don’t you? The urge to let your hair fall, to feel liberated.’
I watched, transfixed, as Clara’s resolve began to waver under the magnetic pull of Layla’s promise. ‘Let’s at least, er … well, just talk about it,’ Clara finally ventured, her voice softer and open.
Layla’s eyes sparkled with delight. ‘Come, sit in my chair,’ she invited mischievously, like the spider to the fly.
Clara found herself moving forward, her heart racing as she made her way to the chair, the electric anticipation swarming the air around them.
‘Just relax, Clara,’ Layla murmured, the low tone dancing across the space between them. ‘Let me show you what I can do.’
‘No! I simply can’t!’ Clara gasped, but her breath twisted with fascination as Layla continued to gently guide her, tugging her hair provocatively. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just trust your friend, trust me, and trust the process, dear.’ Layla’s voice penetrated Clara’s resolve, as she beckoned her closer to the chair with a mesmerising gesture from her index finger.
‘I insist that you sit!’ Layla’s voice finally took on that commanding edge, her eyes glinting as if entranced by Clara’s knee-length hair.
Clara hesitated, glancing back at me with wide eyes as if asking for reassurance, as she perched nervously on the very edge of the chair.
‘Trust me,’ I whispered, nodding comfortingly, but feeling the familiar pulse of excitement meld with the undercurrent of fear permeating the air.
As Clara’s familiar long locks draped heavily over the back and sides of the chair, I felt my heart race. My long-haired friend was entering the same world, the same delicious liberation, that I had felt.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ Clara muttered under her breath, her palms wrist-deep in the full and wavy ends of her hair, as Layla coaxed her to sit right back in the chair.
I could hardly breathe as Clara, my steadfast friend, slowly succumbed to Layla’s charm. I could not help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a deep sense of foreboding. This was going to change everything.
‘Let’s have a good look at those gorgeous tresses,’ Layla’s voice softened almost to a purr, her fingers delicately brushing through Clara’s hair as she arranged the strands atop her head. Clara sat stiffly at first, but she could not resist for long under Layla’s magnetic influence. ‘Very good, Clara … and now it’s time.’
As Layla brandished the scissors, clicking the blades together, the unmistakable metallic sound filled the air, resonating like the tolling of a bell.
‘Time?’ Clara questioned timidly, and Layla nodded. Recognising the inevitability of what was going to happen, I saw the nerves take hold of my friend.
‘Breathe, darling,’ Layla cooed, reaching into the depths of Clara’s cascading hair. ‘You are going to look so incredible. Just relax. Let go.’
Layla lifted a small section of hair from Clara’s crown and pulled it taut above her head, then theatrically snipped it off close to the scalp. Clara whimpered softly, as Layla released the long tendril, and she watched it flutter slowly past her eyes to land in her lap.
Many times, Layla repeated the dramatic action of swooping scissors followed by a fluttering release of a tendril. Her actions built to a frenzied intensity as she severed more of Clara’s hair.
I watched with a mixture of dread and exhilaration as hair fell like autumn leaves around Clara, encasing her in a swirling cocoon of golden strands. Some locks accumulated in a massive pile on her lap, while others slid down to gather in a mound around the chair, on the floor.
‘Clara, are you okay?’ I murmured as my voice shook.
‘Oh, my goodness! No! What are you both doing?’ she wailed, but her protests dimmed as Layla worked methodically and skilfully, completely entranced.
‘Just a little more off the top,’ Layla teased with a glint in her eye. The scissors danced, and Clara’s hair succumbed section by delicate section, fraying my nerves and awakening something liberating inside me as I watched. Clara’s lips quivered, and I saw light in her eyes flicker uncertainly, but Layla only smiled wider. ‘You’re going to feel so different, Clara.’
As Clara’s initial resistance melted away, the raucous hum of Layla’s clippers came into play, filling the room with a chaotic symphony of buzzing. A mechanical roar devoid of mercy. Layla stepped back for a moment, surveying the short and ragged crop of hair that was all that remained on Clara’s head. Compared with her magnificent former long locks, it was a shocking sight, but one that I found oddly arousing. However, I felt grateful that there were no mirrors in which my friend could observe the horrific interim stage of her haircut.
Layla placed one hand on Clara’s head to steady her and hold her firmly in place. She then ran the blade of the hairclippers along Clara’s neck and forced her way through the ravaged hair on the back of her head. Hair spiralled away, and Clara’s protests transformed into a soft whimper.
Clara squirmed in her seat, but Layla, assertive and captivating, was undeterred. As she maintained the swooping motion of the hairclippers, I viewed a path of bare white skin in their wake. Layla repeated the action several times along Clara’s neck before continuing their efficient passage around each ear.
With practiced ease. Layla had swiftly removed all of Layla’s hair below a line than ran around her crown, high above her ears, leaving just uneven tufts covering the top of her head. Using the hairclippers with a comb, Layla expertly fashioned the irregular tufts into an immaculate brush-like flattop with every strand standing neatly to attention. The devastatingly neat flattop, squared off at the edges, looked as though Layla had carved her hairstyle from marble. A sculpture bringing forth beauty from the remains of what once was.
The contrast of the vast sea of hair Clara had once had, against the precision of pristine bristles and newly exposed skin captivated me, my heart racing as the threads of desire intertwined with liberation.
Once Layla finished, she stepped back, her entire being exuding satisfaction as she surveyed her latest work. Clara’s expression had transformed almost imperceptibly, a mixture of horror and bewildered amazement washing over her face. It represented a tacit acceptance of what Layla had set out to achieve, and an excited anticipation of seeing what she had accomplished.
I held up the large hand mirror for Clara to view her transformation for the first time.
‘Wow!’ Clara shrieked, eyeing her reflection from different angles, feeling the expanse of smooth white skin below her sculpted brush-like hair. The severe hairstyle suited her face perfectly, despite it being a strong, defiant look that served to startle me.
‘Look at that,’ Layla purred, inching closer to Clara with an expression of fervent triumph. ‘You are absolutely radiant.’
I felt the stirrings of jealousy swirling within me but tempered by a powerful feeling of exhilaration at sharing this strange bond in beauty and liberation. Layla, the enchantress, had performed her magic once again, and in that moment, I realised our transformations bound us together in a way that was undeniable and electrifying.
However, I could not shake a deeper sense of foreboding. With the long hair of my friend having gone the way of my own, at my instigation, I could not shake the feeling that I was spiralling deeper into Layla’s world … one clippered lock at a time.
= * = * =
I realised my infatuation with Layla was far more complicated than I had previously understood. The thrill of submission was intoxicating, pulling me in, as enchanting as the woman who had first caught my eye.
I had entered a labyrinth with no clear exit … but part of me thrived on the danger of it all.
