Little Black Dress

Back from the grave, here I am. I’m contemplating a comeback after a long hiatus to work on other writing projects (if anybody knows a literary agent that works with contemporary fantasy, hit me up) because I have a few stories I just can’t get out of my head. I have a few stories written and some partials as well. If you haven’t seen my other work, check out the different series and stand-alones! And as always, let me know what you think and what stories you want more of!

Better in Black

On the dance floor, the colorful lights flashed, the music thumped, and April’s long, gently curled, flame-colored locks twirled. She was up close to an especially cute boy, she could feel his abs through his plain black t-shirt, see his sexy arms that were hugged tight by his short sleeves. His hands were on her trim waist, touching her little black dress.

She always felt like the best version of herself in black, with a bold red lipstick that went so well with her fair skin, that made her pale blue eyes pop. She smiled seductively, keeping her red lipstick pursed. April was sexy. She knew it, she felt it. Her trim waist, her just right curves, her smooth legs. She had a face like a starlet from the golden era of film, heart shaped, with plump lips and a flirtatiously upturned little nose. And her beautiful, waist-length, fiery red hair.

The boy kissed her neck as they danced. If he played his cards right, maybe he’d be taking her home. She smelled tequila on him, the same tequila that she had taken shots of. Not too many, but enough. Enough to make her feel floaty, and dangerous.

Suddenly, she felt a tug on her arm. She looked away from the sexy boy whose name she did not know and down at the hand on her arm. Following the hand up to the arm and then up to the face, she saw a familiar face and smiled.

”April, come on,” her friend Jamie shouted over the music, tugging on her arm.

With a quick kiss for the sexy boy, April allowed herself to be pulled away.

”You and that black dress,” Jamie shouted in her ear.

”I can’t get over how I feel in black,” April shouted back.

”Those tequila shots probably have something to do with that,” Jamie answered.

April smiled and danced up against her friend. “Maybe they do,” she said with a wink.

”And that’s why I’m sending you home. The uber is already here,” Jamie said.

The tipsy redhead poked out a pouty lip. “You’re mean. He was cute.”

”Don’t worry, I’ll get his number for you before I leave. If you still like him sober, maybe you can get together for a real date,” Jamie said, patting her friend on the cheek.

”But what about you?” April asked.

”What about me, I’m here with my boyfriend and he isn’t drinking so he can drive me home when I’m ready to leave, so get out of here,” Jamie said.

Before April knew it, she was being whisked out of the bar and led to the bouncer at the door.

”She’s had a little too much to drink, will you just make sure she makes it to her uber? It’s that black Audi,” Jamie asked the bouncer.

”I’ll get your friend there safe,” the large bald man said with a smile.

”It’s a crime that you’re taking me out of the game when I’m wearing black,” April said as she kissed Jamie on the cheek.

”Stop and get something to hydrate yourself on the way home or you’re going to have a criminal hangover in the morning,” Jamie answered before pushing April away gently.

And just like that, Jamie was back in the bar dancing with her boyfriend as the bouncer poured April into the back seat of the uber.

”April?” the driver asked.

”That’s me,” April answered.

”Let’s get you home,” the driver said.

”Can we make a pit stop at a drug store on the way home? I need some Advil and a Gatorade,” April said.

”You’ve got it,” the driver answered.

A few minutes later, April stood in a CVS, the fluorescent lights not diminishing from how good she looked in her little black dress. She had found a tall mirror and admired it. She looked damn good in black.

Holding Advil in one hand and a red Gatorade in the other, she was ready to go. But, as she stood there admiring herself, her eyes drifted to some boxes on a nearby shelf.

Hair dye. Black hair dye. She looked back at the mirror, moved her head to let her red locks fall forward. Black felt so good. What if she could wear it all the time?

On a whim, she picked a box that had a color that matched her black dress and headed to the self checkout.

New Me

Back at home, she stared at herself in the mirror. Black really was so good on her. And she had never done anything particularly crazy. She was responsible, having a good job as a nurse down in the surgical wing at the hospital. Although she had a roommate that was out having her own fun on a Friday night, it was only to save money, not because she needed to. She had paid off her student loans, paid off her car, and was saving to buy a house. Maybe it was time to live a little.

She took the box of hair dye out of the plastic sack and looked at it. Sipping on her Gatorade, she looked back at herself. It was time to live a little. She looked great in black after all.

First, she found some scissors. She knew enough that her waist length locks would never be covered by one box of dye. She’d have to lose some length. Okay, maybe a lot of length. She’d had fairly short hair, a lob down to her shoulders, back when she started nursing school. Of course, she’d regretted the cut back then, but she was an adult now.

Gathering her long, red hair on the front of her shoulders, she began snipping away with the sharp kitchen scissors, just above her shoulders. Her line was straight enough for her standards, and soon she had an exceptionally flippy feeling blunt cut lob.

Next, it was time for the black. The color that just looked so effortlessly good on her. Opening the kit and mixing the dye, she set to work. She poured the black concoction straight into her hair, not using the gloves or tools in the kit. Working it through like a shampoo that refused to lather, she spread it on her now drastically shorter red locks. Soon, her hair was covered in the black and she used her fingers to slick it back.

She looked at her face in the mirror as she washed her hands in the sink. Beneath her hairline there were dye stains on her skin that she dabbed at with a damp washcloth. She removed most of the color but stains were still there. She’d worry about that later. Then she looked below her forehead, at her red eyebrows.

”Well that won’t do,” she said, scrunching them in the mirror.

Using her fingers, she applied black dye to each of her eyebrows. She stepped back and nodded at herself. Now to wait.

”April, what are you doing?” she heard a voice ask.

In the doorway to the bathroom stood April’s roommate, Tina. She was a nurse at the hospital too, but she worked in the ER. Whereas April was the dainty, now formerly redhead surgical nurse, Tina was the thick thighed, athletic ER nurse. Her shoulder length brown hair was curled and her mouth hung open wide.

”Don’t I look good in black?” April asked in reply.

Tina laughed. “I mean you do look good in black.”

”What is April doing?” Tina’s boyfriend Elliot asked.

Elliot was cute, tall, and extremely protective of Tina and any of her friends, her roommate April included.

”I guess she decided that she looks good in black,” Tina said, stepping out of the way and pointing.

Elliot clearly stifled a laugh upon seeing April and shrugged his shoulders. “I think it’s time for me to leave. That way you can help your roommate with this.”

Tina turned and squinted up at her boyfriend. “You’re just trying to leave so you can get out of cleaning this mess up.”

Elliot leaned down and kissed Tina on the forehead. “That is exactly right. Have a good night you two.”

April smiled. “Are you going to help me?”

Tina nodded. “Of course I am. First I need to make sure you got this dye spread out evenly.”

A kitchen chair was brought into the bathroom and soon, Tina finished up April’s at home dye job before the pair worked together to clean up the black hair dye that stained their shared bathroom sink.

When the timer went off, Tina helped rinse April’s hair in the shower, towel dried her hair, and then wrapped the towel around her head and sent the tipsy black-haired young woman to bed.

”You’re crazy, you know that?” Tina asked as she stood next to the light switch by the door of April’s room.

”Not normally, but it’s fun to try,” April said, the towel still wrapped around her head. Her eyes felt heavy as her blinks grew longer.

Tina then turned out the lights, and within moments, April was off to sleep.

The next morning, when she awoke, she sat up on the side of her bed and pushed the towel off, scratching her head. The hangover was, fortunately, minimal.

Still in her little black dress, April immediately knew she had to go, bad. Alcohol is a diuretic after all. And she had downed her red Gatorade as well. Her bladder was nearly about to burst.

Hurrying into the bathroom, she ran past the mirror and sat to relieve herself, leaning her elbows on her knees. Her hands had a purplish stain on them. A stain that reminded her of what she had done.

Pulling her up lacy thong, she ran to the mirror and looked at herself for the first time. Her jaw dropped as she looked at herself.

”Jesus Christ,” she said, holding a stained hand over her mouth.

”Good morning to my raven-haired roomie,” Tina said, leaning on the bathroom doorway. She wore sweatpants and had her hair pulled back into a little nub of a ponytail, the curls from the night before still visible.

”Raven-haired, huh?” April asked, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to get it to sit down.

”Any regrets?” Tina asked.

A smirk formed on April’s face as she tossed her hair over sideways in a deep side part. She tousled it with her fingers and pursed her still red lips.

”Not at all,” April said.

Or, at least, not right away.

Trouble in Paradise

For the first days and even weeks, April loved her new look. The stains had been tough to remove from her hairline and hands, but she had done it. She felt, for the first time ever, sultry, seductive, sexy. Like she was always wearing her little black dress. Which she, of course, looked incredible in with her new hair. The worst thing about going to work was that she had to hide her new pride and joy under a surgical cap. She just wished she could show it off to everybody.

Her makeup grew darker to match this new seductive style. Not gothic, just darker. Smokier. Sexier.

But then, one day when she was getting ready for work, the cracks in the polished exterior showed through.

”What is this?” she asked as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

She tied it off and leaned close to the mirror. Her roots were coming in. And she did not like that.

”I guess you could dye your roots? Or go back to red?” Jamie said as they sat down for a Saturday brunch the next day.

April had done her best to hide the orange glow of her roots, curling her head and wearing an elastic headband.

”My hairstylist said she won’t touch my color after using the black box dye. And do I really want to have to do this once a month? It’s only been three weeks and it already looks terrible,” April said, putting a palm to her forehead.

Jamie raised her mimosa and shrugged. “I guess you could just shave your head,” she said with a dismissive laugh.

Later, at home, with her hair pulled back and her roots exposed, April looked at herself in her bathroom mirror. Was she really considering it? Jamie had clearly been joking. Less than a month before, April had waist-length hair. Beautiful, red, waist-length hair. Could she really be considering something so drastic?

Then she nodded. Desperate times call for desperate measures. She had gotten herself in this spot because she did something crazy. Now she needed to do something crazy to get herself out of it.

Desperate Measures

Turning to the drawers in the bathroom, specifically, Tina’s drawers, and she searched for something she had seen her roommate use a few times. It did not take long for her to find what she searched for. A small black zip up pouch.

She set the pouch out on the counter and opened it. Inside was a set of clippers and several plastic comb looking things. Tina had cut Elliot’s hair a few times in the past and the clippers had been left behind. Almost like it was meant to be.

She looked at the plastic comb looking things and saw that each had a number and a measurement printed in the plastic. One inch all the way down to 1/8 of an inch. She leaned forward and pulled her hair back again, analyzing the roots. Then she picked up one of the plastic comb looking things. #3 3/8 of an inch. She had been part of enough laparoscopic surgeries to know 3/8 of an inch. That should cut off all of the black without taking more of the red than necessary.

Struggling just a little bit, she figured out how to fix the comb looking thing to the clippers. She stared at herself, then looked at the clippers. Then back at herself.

”Bye bye black,” she said, flipping the clippers on and plunging them into her hairline.

The buzzing clippers chewed through her thick hair and she pushed back slowly, letting the tiny blades do their work. Black hair tumbled down and, as she pushed back further on the top of her head, she exposed her natural, coppery locks. Instead of being over two feet long like the last time she had seen them, they weren’t even half an inch. She gulped as she started a new pass.

Tears would likely come later, but it was necessary. She couldn’t even blame it on a little too much drink this time. Her rational, responsible mind knew that this was the smart path.

After a few passes, the top of her head was buzzed down. There were a few places where the locks were a little long, where little black clumps hung on. She knew it would take a few passes, but she moved on to the sides to remove the bulk. It had to be done quickly. Not that she could lose her nerve now, though.

First on the left side, starting at the front, she pushed the clippers up, sending more black hair tumbling down. Her cute little ear was soon exposed, one single diamond stud in its lobe. The hair left behind was brutally short but shockingly soft. Like down feathers.

Her left side was soon finished and she moved to the right. Up the clippers went, again and again, sending the black hair she had been so spontaneously proud of to the bathroom floor, counter, and sink. Another mess to clean thanks to the black hair.

Her right ear exposed, she now took a small round mirror for the counter and turned around. Using the two mirrors, she buzzed up into the last of what had once been short hair by her standards that now felt incredibly long.

Soon, she ran the clippers over her head, again and again, searching for unevenness on her fuzzy, round, adorable little head. No tears yet. She felt cute. Not herself. Not seductive and sexy, but cute. At least cute enough.

There was one small problem, though. Her eyebrows. They were still dark. Black. Like her hair had been. She couldn’t dye them, she didn’t know how to match her natural color. Shrugging, she took the plastic comb off the clippers and let out a shaky breath. Then, one after the other, she shaved them off. When the clippers left black stubble, she searched for shaving cream and a razor. Not wanting to give herself a chance to back out, she quickly shaved them smooth.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she raised her eyebrows. Or she would have if she still had any. Instead she just wrinkled her forehead, raising two extra pale patches on her fair skinned face.

”I’ll probably regret that,” she said, running a hand over her velvety head.

The morning, she stared at herself in the mirror yet again. She would be grateful for her surgical cap at work that day. No more sexy black hair to show off. Now, instead, she had a boy’s haircut. Fortunately she had drawn her eyebrows on so that helped. If someone were to look close, they would be able to tell, but she doubted anybody would get close enough to do that.

She stood there, rubbing her head with one hand, holding a Stanley cup in the other, her purse over her shoulder. She wore a gray athletic tank top with a big slit in the back that showed her white sports bra and yoga pants, she’d get changed into surgical scrubs at the hospital. Tina had edged up her new buzzcut, making the neckline straight, keeping the hair she had missed from hanging on her ears. It felt new.

”The grow out officially starts today,” she said.

Week One

Standing in the CVS, wearing her favorite little black dress, holding a red Gatorade and Advil in one hand, thoughtfully rubbing her short hair with the other, April stared at herself in the same mirror that had gotten her in trouble a little over a month before.

Her hair had actually grown a noticeable amount, probably because any amount of hair is noticeable when you have none. There had been tears, sure. Lots of tears those first couple of days, but she was over that. Now, she liked it well enough, but she was already getting bored. It was hard, she had been used to having so much hair to style. She could look different every day of the week having as much hair as she had before that fateful night. Now, all she could do was play with her makeup at best. And she was spending more time on makeup than she was used to thanks to her lack of eyebrows. There was no growth there to be seen yet.

Then, just like on that night a little over a month before, her eyes drifted to the boxes of hair dye. It couldn’t be that bad. She could try something new. Buzz it off and start over. It would be a couple weeks maybe a month and then she’d be right back where she was now. What better time than now to experiment?

A little tipsy from her night at the bar, she grabbed a box with the girl that had white blonde hair and headed to the self checkout.

Epilogue

Six months later, April stared at herself in the mirror. She was completely nude, ready to jump in the shower after finishing what she was about to do. In her hand were the clippers she had grown so familiar with, that she had used so often that Tina had given them to her. This time, there was nothing guard.

She flipped the clippers on. The girl in the reflection had a buzzed head, grown out a week from what had become her favorite length, a #2 buzz. It had been bleached and on it, using different colored dyes, Tina had painted flowers. The bright colors were a little faded now.

With practiced hands, she plunged the clippers into her hairline, driving them straight to the back of her head. As she pulled the clippers away, all that was left behind was skin and a little coppery stubble.

She made pass after pass, thinking about the last six months since her first buzz. She hadn’t made it longer than a month without buzzing it off and starting over again. Each time, she got bored and succumbed to the temptation of dying it again, ruining her plan of growing her hair out in its natural color.

First, she had been tempted by blonde, something she had always been curious about, but too scared to try. Then came all the unnatural colors, the pinks, blues, purples, the designs and patterns. It was easy to get bored when you had no hair and were too cheap to buy wigs.

This, though was new. She had never had the guts to go all the way, no guard. Maybe this would be the shock to her system she needed. At least this time she had eyebrows, her natural eyebrows.

She finished her crown and folded her left ear down to shave around it. Her eyes glanced down and she saw it. Her razor. The one she used on her legs. If she was honest with herself, technically no guard wasn’t all the way.

She shaved around her right ear now, eyes continuing to glance down at her razor and shave gel. Would it be crazy?

Shaving up the back of her head, feeling with her hands and craning her neck to see in the mirror, she couldn’t get her mind off the razor. She had done crazy.

Now finished with her clippers, she dusted herself off and stared at herself, yet again standing in front of the mirror, questioning things she never thought she would.

”If not now, then when?” April asked herself, picking up her razor and smiling at her almost completely bald reflection.