Lindsay: A pony tale.

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This is a sort of sequel to the stories that start with
It take place about two months after the end of the third story. Lindsay, and Michelle are now in their own
apartment, and have just started to watch a movie. Lindsay has something to get off her chest.


What in the hell was she doing?

“Yes, Lindsay?”

When had their apartment gotten so hot?


“Lindsay? What’s going on, I haven’t seen you this nervous in a long time.”

Half a glass of wine splashed down Lindsay’s throat. Coughing she made an
attempt to clear her dry throat.

“Michelle, I want to tell you something.”

How in hell was this so hard, even after all this time?

“Can I guess? Is it that you’re a little fiend for women cutting off their gorgeous locks?

“I want to tell you about the shoe box.”

In a flash Michelle sat upright on the coach, excitedly patting the cushion beside her.

“Oh! I thought I’d never get to know.”

“Well,” Lindsay sat beside Michelle. “It’s not amazing or anything. Probably not even
worth me telling you.”

Why was she doing this? Why had she taken so long to tell Michelle? Damn it, why
was this still so hard?

“The brunette one,” Lindsay downed the rest of her wine, “It’s from a friend of mine
in high school.”

“I’m going to stop you for a second Linds. You know that you do not have to tell me,
right? It’s totally fine with me if we play with them without me knowing their background.”

“This is important to me. I need to just get it out.”

“Ok, Linds, go on.”

Lindsay tried to down another gulp of her wine and found nothing.

“It was the end of Senior year. Actually a bit after, school was definitely over.
I was in one of my funks. Wow, this feels really weird to tell someone. Umm…”

“Take your time, Linds. Breath.”

“Yah, so… after senior year. My friends and I were going separate way. Different
colleges, states even. I was, you know, I was anxious as hell, I was scared. In one way it
made sense, I did not know when I would see them again. In the other… you know the
one. The one where I could not help but think about never getting a chance to see them
cut their hair.”

“Yep, I can confirm I know that feeling. You felt like they were your best bet at
fulfilling your fetish, and could not dream of getting close enough to other people to
influence them.”

“It sounds kind of horrible when you put it that way.”

“Linds, unless this story ends with you forcefully holding someone down, and
cutting their hair, I doubt it is so bad.”

Lindsay searched for the bottle of wine.

“Well… Umm… Anyway, I came up with the idea of a sleepover. Get all of my
friends back together.”

Michelle bounced on her cushion. “Classic. Makeovers at a sleepover.”

“Michelle…” Lindsay looked into her empty glass, then placed it on the
coffee table, “please.”

“I’m sorry. Please go on.”

“So… sleepover. I invited them, and all three of them came over. All three of
them had long-ish hair. Mid-back or so. Well, Emily’s was longer, maybe waist? Yah,
it had to be at least waist length, and dirty blonde. Sort of wavy? But more towards
straight? Anyway, at some point I offered up braiding each other’s hair. You know,
to be like kids one last time.”

“I love how you make going to college seem so final.”


“Sorry, I’m not very good at lightening the mood tonight, am I?”

“It’s OK.”

“I’ll try to stay quiet. Keep going, this is getting good.” Michelle reached
down beside the couch, picked up a bottle of wine, filled her glass, then offered
to fill Lindsay’s glass.

“Uh, sleepover, braiding hair, and,” Lindsay took a sip from her glass,
”Oh yah, I tried to turn the conversation to cutting hair.I thought it made sense.
We’re all going to college, and it’s a cliché for girls to change their hair before
college. So, I asked if anyone was thinking about making a change.”


“Well, it fell flat. No one seemed to keen on the idea. But, a few minutes later
Emily spoke up. She seemed nervous, I think. Mentioned she had a hair appointment and
was going to talk to her stylist about cutting her hair short.”


“So, I asked how short. And, well, Emily did not seems like she had any real
idea. My other friends offered some ideas. I nodded along. It all kind of ended there.
We all fell asleep, and in the morning went our separate ways.”

“MMHm… Linds? I’m not seeing how Emily’s hair made it into your shoe

“OK, fine. It really did go that way though, nothing happened at the sleepover,
everyone had their hair the next morning. But…. Damn it… Emily’s appointment was
later that day. And I, being the way I am, knew where she got her hair cut.”

Michelle muted the TV. “Go on.”

“You can guess what happened next. My stomach was in knots, I knew I
should not do it, but I did. I got in my car and went to that salon. Then, I sat in
the parking lot. I sat a long time. Honestly, I thought I missed her appointment.
I think I wanted to.”

“Hair in shoe box.”

Lindsay put her hand on her head, and rubbed her temples The hair under her
palm felt, soft, and she closed her finger a couple times to feel it between them. Had
her buzzcut grown out that far?

Michelle put her hand on Lindsay’s leg. “Linds? Are you OK?”

“Yeah. Yeah I did not miss her appointment. I walked in as she was talking to her
stylist about what she wanted. And of course it was not about cutting her hair. It was about
getting a trim.”

“What did you do?”


“Shit. Take your time. I’m being impatient.”

“Well, I was also impatient. Or something. I was mad at myself, and I was trying
to walk back out the door. I think I would have, but the stylist caught me before I could turn
around. She wanted to know if I had an appointment. I said no, and asked if they took
walk-ins. She said yes.”

“Emily did not say anything about you being there?”

“She sure did. Said how funny it was I walked into the salon she was at. I was
going to just sit there, get my hair trimmed, and be done with my stupid idea. How could
I? She was right there, in the chair. Her hair was hanging down the back of the chair,
so perfect. I just had needed to do it. So, being week like I was I pushed. I said it
was crazy. I asked if she was still thinking about cutting her hair short.”

“What did she say?”

“She did not say anything. It was the stylist who started talking. She started
talking real quick. ‘You’d look so good in short hair, How about this, about about that.’
Emily looked scared, I think. Anxious? Anyway, she was trying to say she only wanted
a trim, and that the idea to cut her hair short was just a passing idea.”

“There’s no way the stylist cut her hair when she did not want it cut, right?”

“She did not. But, they did keep talking. Well, the stylist did. She asked me
what I thought. I panicked, I couldn’t talk. I pushed out whatever words would go.
I told her I thought it was an amazing idea when Emily was talking about it at the
sleepover. I don’t think Emily was expecting that.”

“Emily agreed?”

“Sort of. Emily started bargaining. Maybe she thought if she gave up some
of her hair, it would end the conversation? I don’t know. It seems like the sort of crazy
thought I would have. But, she said she might like a bob, but one that was just past her

“And the stylist?”

“She said Emily would look really good with a shorter bob. It was weird. At
first they were talking about a trim, and now Emily was negotiating the length of a bob.
A bob. My head was spinning. I thought I was going to throw up then and there.”

“What did they decide on?”

“I don’ think it was really a decision. Not on Emily’s part, at least. The stylist
put her hair into a ponytail, then I think she just did what she wanted. I can’t really
remember. The sound, though. I will never forget the sound of the scissors, and Emily’s

“Shoe box.”

“Yah. I saw it. I saw the stylist holding it. Then she gave it to Emily. I do not
think Emily wanted to hold it. Her face looked like my stomach felt. So, I offered to
take it from her. And she gave it to me.”

“Did she just let you keep it?”

“No. I think it would have been really weird if I just walked out with it. I don’t
know, maybe I did not need to ask about donating the ponytail. Weird how asking about
donating it felt so easy. Maybe it was how quickly the stylist responded. She said it
would be a good idea to donate it, and that she immediately said she had envelopes
Emily could use to mail it out. ”

“Shoe box?”

“Almost. I got one of the envelopes, and I put the ponytail inside. I even addressed
it to Locks of Love. Then, while I watched the stylist finish Emily’s haircut I kept it in my lap.”

“Remember when this was really hard for you to tell me?”

“It’s getting easier,” Lindsay smiled. “Anyway I kept it in my lap, and waited
until Emily was done getting her bob. It was shorter than I thought it would be. I think
the stylist won out. Either way, Emily was not terribly enthusiastic. She paid, and tipped.
Maybe she was happy? I don’t know. I know we walked out together. No one seemed to
care that I did not get my hair done. Then I just offered. I offered to drop her hair off at
the post office for her.”

“You devious little…”

“I know, right? It felt so horrible at the time. But, telling it to you makes me feel
kind of happy about what I did. I still can’t believe I did it. Even having it in that shoe
box, I can’t believe it.”

“Should we go make sure it’s still there?”

“Yah,” Lindsay thought about to that chin length bob, and how Emily tried to
put it into a ponytail, only to fail. “I think we can finish this movie tomorrow.”

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