Secrets

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Hi, my name’s Jenny. I want to share with you something that I found on my husband’s computer, because it seems to me that it would interest people like you. He doesn’t know that I’ve found his “secret” hidey-hole and I’m sure that he’ll be mortified when he does find out. I’m not sure whether he planned to share this with the “hair community”, but it’s a bit late now, I’ve done it for him.

He’d saved a few stories off your website that he clearly liked, which helped me to understand that he isn’t alone and indicated that other people would be interested in what he wrote. He helpfully keeps a document listing his favourite web addresses, and this site just happened to be one of them. I can only imagine what he’ll think when he logs on for a quiet read and sees his own handiwork, swiftly followed by the realisation that I know everything. Here it is, unedited and just as he wrote it:

“You know when you’ve got a problem, when you can’t find any porn that you haven’t already seen. Porn that you like, that is. Stuff that doesn’t turn your stomach. That’s the position that I found myself in during lockdown.

They call it “working from home”, but really it’s just an extended porn hunt. There’s no way that you can sit in the privacy of your own home and work the way that you would in the office. The distractions are just too great. You start with the best of intentions. Then you look at a news site. Then a sports site. Then a quick look at your “go to” porn site, in case something spectacular has just been posted. It hasn’t, but the zipper comes down anyway and it’s all downhill from there. Of course, there’s the challenge of the wife being downstairs, but if you say that you’ve got a Zoom call, she generally leaves you to it. There’s a new euphemism: I just having a “zoom”, won’t be long. Best not to disturb me!

After stumbling into stuff that should only be seen in bathrooms, and potentially, not even then, I found videos of people having their hair cut. I’d never in a million years ever thought that people would get their jollies watching other people having a haircut, but there it was, peppered over porn sites. It wouldn’t be there if people didn’t get off on it, so I persevered, relieved that it didn’t involve bodily functions or family pets. It took a while, but I started to get it. I went to the official sites and bought a few that I liked the look of, hoping that my wife wouldn’t take a sudden interest in my credit card bill when it came.

At first, it was just a case of “an attractive woman is an attractive woman”. But then I started to see that it was the idea that many of these women were doing something reluctantly, for whatever reason, that was the key to this thing. It was way more subtle than watching someone getting spanked, or worse. Those did nothing for me, but I found that the expression on the model’s face as she sat in the chair was arousing. She didn’t have to be wailing or struggling, but you could see it. See the effort that sitting down took, when a big part of their world was about to change.

It seemed that the more drastic the cut, the more views these videos got. Who knew that there’d be such interest in seeing a woman having her head shaved, but it was there. An attractive woman, provocatively dressed, and the numbers went off the scale. I was finding myself drawn toward them more and more. They were more real than the porn that had been my staple diet for so long. No fake expressions, no fake sounds. These were as genuine as you could get in most cases. You could see the trepidation in that short walk to the chair, the inner turmoil in some cases as the subject sat down. There was the acceptance as the cape was put on and then resignation when the first cut was made. The point of no return. A woman could get fucked in a porn film and no-one would be any the wiser when she walked down the street afterwards. Not so with these videos. Sure, there were always wigs, but how well did those work in most circumstances? You could go and have dinner with your boyfriend after being fucked bandy and he wouldn’t know, but how long can you get away with having a lot less hair than you went out with, or even being bald, before even the most obtuse husband notices.

My wife was downstairs.

I’d just watched a superb video.

How do you bring someone else’s experience into own world?

Within reason, you can try out something that you’ve seen in a porn film and just pass it off as getting carried away, but how do you tell your wife that you’d get turned on by watching her have a haircut? Do you pretend to stumble upon it and call her over to have a look? “Hey, honey, look at this…” Do you tell her that you think she should do something different with her hair?

Radically different? That will take some thought.

I’d better tell you about myself. My name’s Craig, I’m 40 years old and work in IT, something that bores the arse off everyone, including me, but it pays well. I go to the gym to counteract the beer, and consequently look several weeks younger than my years.

I watch football on TV, like music, but can’t dance, love my wife of eleven years, and have an affinity for porn. All in all, there’s nothing remarkable about me. My wife is Jenny, a couple of years younger than me. I still pinch myself from time to time, because I can’t believe that I landed such a wonderful, gorgeous woman. She’s a Sales Administrator, whatever that entails and is therefore rather outgoing when she has to be. She doesn’t watch football on TV, she can dance and, as far as I know, doesn’t seek out porn at every opportunity.

Jenny’s quite receptive to new ideas, but I do get the occasional strange look. That has led me to become more subtle in how I suggest new things, but it’s rare that I get a flat-out “No”. I haven’t asked her to do anything new for a while, because, up to now, I haven’t seen anything that I liked and hadn’t already done. She usually takes the view that life is about experiences and you have to try stuff to live life to the fullest. We’ve tried dishes in restaurants on holiday that you just wouldn’t try at home.

We did a bungee jump in New Zealand. I took her up the arse when we went away for our latest anniversary. She refused to let me piss on her that same weekend, but she said that she’d have no trouble reversing the roles. A marriage counsellor would probably read something into that.

None of that helped me to think of a way to get her to make my new interest become reality. I’d make it my latest project.

I heard her coming upstairs. She’d developed the infuriating habit of bringing me tea and coffee at regular intervals, meaning that

I was always on edge, listening for the tell-tale sounds from the kitchen. If it wasn’t work interrupting my porn research, it was my personal tea-lady! She came in, I gave the impression of poring over a spreadsheet, frantically checking that there were no incriminating windows still open in the background.

‘Here you go’ she said,  putting down the cup and a chocolate biscuit.

‘Thank you, my lovely’ I said.

‘One of these days, you’ll make me my tea.’

‘You know I’d do anything for you, my dear, even make you tea’ I said, running a hand up her leg. I let it rest on her buttock.

‘That’s why I married you, so that you could make me tea’ she said, smiling.

‘And fuck you like no other man could’ I replied, entering into one of our light-hearted exchanges.

‘Not so much that. You know that Roger fulfils all of my sexual needs’ she replied.

There were times when I wondered whether Roger was actually real.

‘You really must introduce us some day.’

‘Why? Do you want to get fucked silly too?’ she replied, trailing a finger across my cheek to tease my lips.

‘I think I’d like to watch’ I replied.

‘My, you’re a naughty one, aren’t you? Would you like to watch him stick his big dick in me?’ she asked with a mischievous smile.

‘I’ve got a call in a couple of minutes, but yeah, I think I’d like to see that’ I replied, squeezing her backside.

‘Shame’ she said. We’ll probably be done by the time your call’s over’ she smiled, easing away from me and making for the door.

‘Jenny’ I called after her.

‘What?’ she asked, looking round.

‘Do you think I should cut my hair shorter?’ I asked.

‘Well, you can’t cut it longer can you, so shorter would probably be the way to go’ she replied with an expression that told me that she’d got me a good one.

‘You know what I mean’ I countered.

‘No, I don’t. What do you mean?’

‘I always get the same thing. I thought maybe I should do something different’ I said. She looked at me.

‘Have you got another woman?’ she asked.

‘You know you’re the only one for me’ I replied. If other people could hear our little playful exchanges, there’d be vomit everywhere.

‘So why do you want to cut your hair?’

‘Something different. A new beginning. What do you think?’

‘Depends what you’re going to do.’

‘Whatever you want’ I replied. The computer beeped. ‘Shit! My call’ I said, dragged away from her by the demands of reality.

At lunchtime, I broached the subject again.

‘So, did you have any thoughts?’ I asked.

‘You know that I’m a woman, so I’m not allowed to have thoughts of my own’ she replied, with an extra helping of sarcasm.

‘I’ve told you that you’re allowed to think when it’s about me’ I replied. I hoped that our house wasn’t bugged!

‘No, dearest. What would you like me to think about’ she continued.

‘My hair.’

‘Your hair is lovely. Just the way that I like it.’

‘Would you like me to have it different?’

‘If you’d like me to like your hair different, then I’d like that’ she replied, tying me in knots.

‘Can we be serious for a minute’ I begged, pausing from making my sandwich.

‘I’ll try. It’s just that you’re so funny, asking me what you should do about your hair.’

‘Don’t you care what my hair looks like?’

‘Of course’ she replied.

‘So, should I have it different?’

‘If you want’ she replied.

This wasn’t going well.

‘So if I came home with my head shaved, you wouldn’t mind?’

How had I got there?

‘Is that what you’re going to do?’

‘Would you want me to?’

‘It hadn’t crossed my mind. But then my mind is full of fluffy kittens all the time, as you know.’

‘Can you be serious for a minute?’

‘You started it. You said you’re going to shave your head’ she retorted.

‘And why wouldn’t I be serious about that?’

‘Because you’re an IT Manager, not a bouncer at a nightclub.’

‘And why can’t an IT Manager shave his head?’

‘He can, you can, but it’s a bit weird, isn’t it?’

‘Why?’

‘Can’t we just have lunch?’ she said, her exasperation showing through her usual calm exterior.

We ate in near silence and I returned to my place of work in the spare bedroom. I mused over the earlier conversation, analysing it in too much depth. I’d been too open, she’d forced me into it with those superpowers of hers. When I’d gone downstairs, I’d thought that it was a more natural way to start the ball rolling to talk about me doing something, rather than going in with all guns blazing to get her to do something. Me having a haircut shouldn’t be controversial. There shouldn’t be questions in Parliament about it. Quite how I’d gone all in and used a headshave as my opening gambit, I don’t know. I’d left nothing in reserve. She’d thought it was weird. What would she think about me suggesting that she cut those long, dark tresses of hers? The hair that she knew I liked to wrap around my fingers at certain times of particular pleasure.

Would I shave my head? Could I shave my head? I’d never even had a buzz cut, let alone gone all the way. It’s true what she said.

I’m an IT Manager, as conventional as they come, apart from my dalliance with the world of porn. I looked at a well-known video sharing site to explore the notion of men shaving their heads. There they were. Guys doing it themselves, wives and girlfriends doing it for them. That was the approach that I should take.

I hadn’t realised how long I’d been doing my research. The door opened and the tea-lady was standing there, cup in hand.

‘So this is what you call work?’ she said, looking at my screen. The content was innocent enough, but I’d been caught in the act.

‘I just wanted to see how normal it is’ I said, trying not to sound flustered.

‘So you look on there, home of the exhibitionist and the fantasist?’

‘I thought it’d give me an idea.’

‘And did it?’

‘There’s plenty of ordinary blokes just deciding to go streamlined’ I replied.

‘So that’s what it is?’ she asked, looking over my shoulder.

‘I watched one a couple of minutes ago. Just some woman saying that she’d been asking her fella to do it for a while and he’d eventually agreed. He just sat down and let her do it.’

‘And what did he look like?’

‘A bit of a dick, really’ I confessed.

‘Doesn’t that tell you something?’

‘Most of the others looked okay.’

‘Most? How many of these have you watched?’

‘You know it’s like some sweets, you can’t have just one.’

‘You’re determined to do it, aren’t you?’ she asked.

‘It was a thought, that’s all. You’re just making a big deal out of it.’

‘Who’s the one sitting in his bedroom like a teenager looking at porn?’ she asked.

That was a little too close to home.

‘I’m not. It’s just good to do a bit of research before you make a decision.’

‘So you haven’t decided?’

‘No. I asked for your opinion about something.’

‘So what made you even ask?’

She was following a line of enquiry. Was I going to get busted?

‘One of these videos was trending. I was curious, that’s all’ I replied, trying to brush it off.

‘Drink your tea’ she said, turning on her heel.

That was never a good sign. It unnerved me. I spent the rest of the afternoon working.

The weekend came. That meant shopping. Never a good experience, but I had to go, so that I could make sure that all my favourite things made their way into the basket. Before going to the supermarket though, she wanted to go into town. That was definitely not a good experience. It usually meant prolonged silence from one or both of us. Withering glances. Cutting comments to shop-assistants. I dreaded it, but followed behind dutifully.

‘What are we here for?’ I asked once we’d parked the car.

‘That’s a very deep question for this time on a Saturday morning’ she replied.

‘I’m not talking “meaning of life”, I’m just enquiring after the objective of this excursion to the metropolis.’

‘Somebody got out of bed the wrong side’ she remarked snidily.

We hadn’t even been into a shop yet and the whole thing was falling apart.

‘I’ll know when I find it’ she replied.

This could be a long day.

We walked up one side of the main street and then down the opposite side. Then we went down a side street. And another. And another. We hadn’t been into a single shop.

She stopped. I stopped. I looked around for an over-priced dress shop. There wasn’t one.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘Here’s your chance’ she said.

‘What?’ I asked again. I saw that she was looking over my shoulder and turned to see what it was that was so interesting. A hair salon.

‘You’re getting a haircut? Now?’ I asked pointedly.

‘Not me’ she replied. ‘There’s a nice lady in there called Gina, who’s expecting you in about thirty seconds, so you’d better get a move on’ she urged.

‘What? I have somewhere that I go to’ I objected.

‘This is a perfectly reasonable place. It’s unisex, so they’re quite used to dealing with your crowd’ she observed with a laugh.

‘What? Why?’ I asked, not knowing what I was actually asking.’

‘I rang up and made you an appointment, because I didn’t want to be wandering round town trying to get in somewhere on a Saturday morning. Now come on, don’t keep the lady waiting.’

‘What did you ask for?’

‘What you want’ she replied. She nodded towards the door, the way that my mother used to indicate precisely what she wanted me to do, without actually uttering a word.

‘Are you coming in?’

‘Do you need me to hold your hand?’ she asked.

‘Yes, no. I thought maybe you’d booked one for yourself.’

‘Do you think I need to?’ she asked with that hint of sarcasm that she has. She was running her fingers through the ends of her hair.

Everything told me to be careful how I answered.

‘Maybe not right now’ I replied.

‘Hold that thought and get in before you lose your slot’ she urged.

‘Have you told her…’

‘Ring me when you get out. I won’t have gone far’ she said.

She gave me a peck on the cheek, squeezed my arm and ruffled my hair. I looked at her, feeling much younger than my years. I

watched her turn and walk away. I turned to the door and took a deep breath. I went in.

A rather attractive young thing greeted me. She was young enough to be my daughter, so the tight fabric of her tunic across her chest should’ve been of no interest to me at all. But it was. I wanted to know how you got at the ripe fruit inside.

‘Hi, I’m Craig Scott. I’ve got an appointment with Gina, I think it is’ I said, trying to sound as if I was there because I wanted to be. How had I got to this point without even meaning to?

‘I’ll just let her know you’re here’ the vision of loveliness replied.

I realised that there were now competing priorities. I was drawn to the traditional areas, checking out her chest, watching her arse as she walked away, but now I was also having to split my attention with a hair assessment. Hers was collar-length and straight, blonde, but a long way from natural. I’d be concentrating on the traditional areas with her, unless she was seated and gowned.

‘Hi Craig’ a perky voice said as its owner approached. The receptionist hadn’t come back, so I was faced with what must be Gina, closing at a rate of knots, hand held up in a non-contact greeting.

‘You must be Gina.’

‘I am indeed. Pleased to meet you’ she said.

Early thirties maybe. Respectable boobs, trim figure, bright red hair. Dyed, cropped. Arse unavailable for assessment, but believed to be good.

She made no secret of appraising me herself on that final approach.

‘So you’re going for the big change, your wife tells me.’

‘Apparently so’ I replied.

She looked slightly concerned.

‘Usual story: I’m still at the planning stage, she’s at the execution stage’ I replied, using my finest IT Manager skills to summarise where we were.

‘Oh? She said that you were all set.’

‘We usually get to the same point eventually’ I said with a smile.

‘So are we doing it?’

‘Depends what “it” is’ I replied with a cheeky smile.

‘Restricted to a haircut at present’ she replied, matching me, quip for quip.

‘I suppose I’ll be doing that then. She probably won’t let me out until you’ve done what she said, anyway.’

‘That’s what I like to hear’ she said, turning on her heel.

Late appraisal: arse very respectable indeed. I imagined myself hanging on to those haunches as she led me down the salon. Again, there was the dilemma: did I focus on her unattainable backside, or did I look around me in the hope that some woman was getting shorn. A bird in the hand and all that…I kept my attention firmly on the contours of her backside, searching in vain for any evidence of knickers. None, so either a thong or none at all. She stopped and turned. I tried not to look at her chest. Her smile was friendly, but she was straight down to business, grabbing a gown off the rack and holding it out to me.

‘So, we haven’t seen you here before?’ she said.

‘No, I usually go to a place across town. My wife chose you. I’m not sure if someone recommended you to her’ I replied.

‘I’d like to think so. Maybe you can get her to come to us too. If you’re happy with your cut, that is.’

‘I can ask. I don’t actually know where she goes, but I think she’s been going there since we moved here, so that’s a few years’ I

replied, trying not to be distracted by her hands on my scalp.

‘So what’s brought this on?’ she asked.

‘I saw someone do it on Youtube, you know. I mentioned it to my wife and here we are.’ I didn’t want to go into too much detail.

‘She sounded quite excited about it’ Gina replied. That was interesting.

I was getting quite excited by this woman playing with my hair. Seeing it fanned through her fingers made me realise that I do actually wear it quite long. Long enough never to have had a barber suggest using clippers on it, long enough that it flies all over the place if we go for a country walk on a windy day. All that was about to change at the hands of a woman who could do anything she liked to me.

‘I don’t actually think that she believes that I’ll do it, that’s why she made the appointment’ I said.

‘Well, we’ll show her, won’t we?’ she remarked with a playful tug of my hair.

That’s asking for trouble, I thought. The stirring in my jeans had begun as soon as I saw her and had only grown once she started to touch me. I tried to banish the image of her bent over, with her tunic tugged up and her knickers tugged down. That wasn’t something for a public place.

She caught my eye in the mirror and smiled.

‘Don’t worry, it won’t hurt’ she said with that smile of hers.

I returned the smile, although it wasn’t overly convincing. Was I really going to sit here and let her do it? I thought back to the Youtube videos of wives and girlfriends doing it for their man. Shouldn’t I let Jenny do it? Could I really turn my back on this fabulous creature though, who was bound to do a better job than a first-timer? The material of her tunic went taught in all the right places when she reached for the clippers.

‘Ever had your hair cut with these?’ she asked.

‘First time’ I replied, my mouth too dry for a fuller response.

‘I’ll be gentle’ she said with a wink.

If she kept that up, I’d be creaming my jeans before she’d finished.

I braced myself for the rumble of the clippers and was faintly disappointed at the almost-feeble whine that they emitted.

‘Head down for me’ she said. Her hand was on the back of my head. My hand wanted to be down my jeans.

She stroked the back of my head. Almost imperceptibly. I was trying to look in the mirror, but it’s difficult when you’re meant to be staring at the floor. I could just make out that the clippers were in her hand and looked like they were being used. She repeated what she’d just done, but didn’t stop when she got to the top of my head. Oh fuck! I could see middle-aged respectability falling into my lap. Was she going all out or was this a buzz cut before she asked me whether I wanted to go all the way?

‘Is that the sort of thing you wanted?’ she asked.

‘Yes, something like that’ a female voice replied, before I had the chance to open my mouth. Jenny’s voice. What the fuck?

‘That is what you wanted, isn’t it Craig?’ Jenny asked.

‘I thought you were off to exercise my credit card’ I said without looking up.

‘I was, but I couldn’t miss this’ she said.

‘Thanks very much’ I replied, suspecting that conspiratorial looks were flying about where I couldn’t see them. ‘Anyway, I can’t see it from this angle, so I’ll take your word for it.’

‘It’s very short. I hope you’re okay with that’ Jenny said.

‘He’ll be fine. A new man’ the stylist chipped in.

‘Are you okay with me standing here?’ Jenny asked.

‘You’re fine’ Gina confirmed.

The clippers came back on and I tried to convince myself that the sensation wasn’t as wonderful as it had been before Jenny intruded on my little experience. Like most men, I’d always had a hankering for a threesome, and this was probably as close as I’d ever get and I couldn’t even enjoy it.

‘Look up for me’ Gina instructed, her fingers touching the side of my head that was hidden from Jenny’s view. Unless she’d moved,

that is. Her voice had been to my right and I hadn’t heard footsteps. I allowed myself to imagine that the touch was more meaningful than it was.

I looked up. No damage visible as yet. I was still “Mr Middle Manager”, I still had the same corporate image that I’d had when I walked in. The only difference that I was aware of was a semi, that I was currently waging a mental fight against. I knew though that the back of my head was witness to the effects of the clippers that were currently hovering at the side of my head. They made contact. I experienced many emotions. Shock, loss, excitement, all tangled up. That was my skin that I could see, that my wife was looking at. Skin where there was hair a few nano-seconds ago. Where there should be hair. What had I done? What was I doing? My fantasy world had crashed into my everyday existence in a way that it was never meant to. Gina carried on as if it was something she did every day. She probably did!

Jenny had moved slightly so that I was aware of her in my peripheral vision. I was the centre of attention and feeling self-conscious and vulnerable. There would be no chance for me to get even a little used to my new look before having to face her, she was going to be with me every inch of the way. The clippers kept moving, sustaining my semi and heightening the chances of me being caught in possession of an unauthorised hard-on when the cape came off. I devoted a little more of my attention to battling it, which was difficult, faced with the reflection of the rapidly balding guy facing me.

The clippers were leaving me with nothing. My vain hopes of a buzz cut to test the waters were just that. My thoughts moved to what was going to come next. Was she going to razor-shave me? How the fuck would I keep the tent-pole down if she did that? There was no way that I could resist Mother Nature if she slid lubricated fingertips over my naked scalp.

I watched her put the clippers down. Saw her look at me in the mirror.

‘Still with me?’ she asked, the way that my dentist would.

‘Just about. I’ll probably need something for the shock’ I replied.

‘Don’t worry about that. I’m sure your lovely wife here will look after you.’

I smiled. I wondered if Jenny knew what sort of looking after I was going to need. What would she think, if I said that I needed to

cut our shopping trip short, so that I could go home and safely relieve the mounting pressure in my nether regions?

‘I didn’t realise you’d do that’ Jenny said.

I looked at what she was referring to. The can of shaving foam in Gina’s hand. I was doomed! It was impossible not to see the parallel in her squirting foam into her hand and me jetting into her hand. Or her mouth. Or onto her tits. Not in my mind anyway.

She made contact. My semi grew beyond the definition of a semi. What was I going to do? Her fingers moved in a circular motion, covering my scalp. She knew exactly what she was doing and she was doing it within touching distance of my wife. I’d have to burn my underwear at this rate! She carried on finger-painting until she’d created a perfect helmet. She took a lingering look and then started with the razor.

I’ve never used a razor to shave with. They frighten me, but I had no such qualms here. I had innate trust in Gina’s skill and my only concern was the fact that she was taking me as far from my comfortable self as she could. I was going smooth, unlike most of the people that I’d seen with their DIY haircuts, who seemed to stop once their clippers had done their worst. I was being shaved by an expert and there was no chance of meaningful re-growth this side of Doomsday. I tried to suppress a deep breath, but suspect that it didn’t escape Jenny’s notice. The good thing was that the realisation of ongoing ridicule was acting as the antidote to my semi. The danger of discovery was waning.

Gina was sliding the white helmet off my scalp strip by strip, progressively revealing the end product. I still couldn’t believe that it was me in the mirror, that I’d sat here and let her strip me of my hair. Jenny hadn’t vomited yet, so there was hope, but what did she really think? I’d find out soon enough.

I closed my eyes and let Gina do what she was doing.

The deed was done. I was led to a basin and eased backwards into position for her to rinse my head. I was so grateful that my semi had subsided, because the gown moulded itself to my supine form and the contour would’ve given me away as some sort of pervert. I willed Gina to be quick with the water jet before my body had a re-think and decided that the experience was rather pleasurable after all.

Gina helped me sit up. The effort required was a hint that I needed to do some sit-ups! She patted my head with the towel and I looked across at Jenny through the draping flaps of fabric. Her expression was hard to read. I stood up, surprised to feel Gina undoing the Velcro so soon. I wasn’t going back to the chair, because her work was done. She was setting me free into my natural habitat, to see whether I’d survive the predators.

Jenny thanked her before I had the chance to and the three of us walked towards reception. I paid, took a business card and Jenny’s hand. I was on the street, alone with my wife. Neither of us spoke for a few paces. She stopped and turned to look at me.

‘Happy now?’ she asked.

‘Does it look that bad?’ I asked.

‘It’s different.’

‘Good different or bad different?’

‘I’ll let you know’ she replied cagily.

‘Do I need a hat?’

‘Only if you’re cold.’

‘Tell me really. Do I look like a dick?’

‘No more than usual’ she replied.

I pulled a face at her that wasn’t worthy of my forty years on the planet. ‘Now what?’ I asked, having given up on a sensible answer.

‘Lunch’ she replied.

We went and found somewhere that catered for people who were hungry slightly before everyone else. It wasn’t quite what you’d call lunchtime, but it was a chance to gather my thoughts. I’d found something in a place that I shouldn’t have been looking. I’d done it myself and now I had to live with the evidence staring back at me each time I looked in the mirror.

‘Penny for them’ Jenny asked after a while.

‘Sorry, I was just wondering how to explain this to everyone at work.’

‘Easy. Tell them that the camera’s broken on your laptop, then they’ll never know. Give it a couple of months and it’ll just look like you’ve had an enthusiastic trim.’

‘Probably won’t work’ I replied.

‘You’ll just have to tell them that you felt like shaving your head. Fuck them!’ Jenny advised.

‘Yes, I’ll give that a go. That’s sure to have the desired effect. Not only bald, but stark raving mad’ I smiled.

‘If you like it, that’s all that matters.’

‘You have to like it too’ I replied, with the appropriate measure of concern in my voice.

‘I’ll get used to it’ she replied.

‘You don’t like it, do you?’

‘I liked watching her do it. There was something sexy about that’ she said, surprising me.

‘You surprise me’ I said.

‘Don’t tell me you weren’t turned on by her rubbing cream over your head’ she challenged.

Shit!

‘I didn’t feel that. It was a bit irritating’ I lied.

‘You know, with a bit more practise, you could almost be a competent liar’ she laughed.

‘Okay, maybe it was okay’ I conceded. She gave me one of her looks, but the arrival of our meals prevented it from being fatal.

Jenny grew to like my lack of hair over the coming days. At first, I’d been conscious of her recoiling when she went to grip the back of head the first time we made love in my new incarnation. After that, I saw her looking at me more easily, not as questioning as she had been at first. I was slowly being accepted in my new guise.

The uncertainty returned as the first signs of re-growth began. I was becoming abrasive. Jenny was too, in a different way.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked after a week and a half.

‘What about?’

‘Turning into Sandpaper Man, the forgotten superhero’ she said, running her fingers across my scalp with an expression of distaste.

I wasn’t sure how genuine it was.

‘What would you like me to do?’ I asked.

‘My choice?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘You won’t hate me?’

‘No more than I do at the moment’ I replied. I hoped that my smile let me get away with that comment.

Jenny reached up and touched my scalp gingerly again.

‘I can’t have you like that’ she said.

‘So…?’

‘You’ve got to shave it again.’

I looked at her intently. That wasn’t what I was expecting.

‘Is that your way of saying that you like me bald?’

‘It’s my way of saying that I don’t like you bristly, face or head’ she countered.

‘You’ll have to do it, cos I can’t reach all the way round’ I said.

‘I couldn’t. I’d be scared of cutting you.’

‘You shave your legs…and elsewhere.’

‘That’s different.’

‘You won’t do it and I can’t do it, so we’re stuck’ I replied.

‘You’ll have to force yourself to go back to the lovely Gina then.’

‘What? Pay through the nose to do something that you could do?’

‘I’ve told you. I’m not doing it.’

‘It’s a hassle going into town just for that’ I countered.

‘You could take your wife to lunch’ she suggested.

‘Starts to get a bit pricey…’ I argued, knowing that she would definitely hate me for a comment like that.

‘It’s up to you, but you’re not coming near me until you do something about it’ she said, folding her arms.

‘I’ll just have to sort myself out then.’

‘Don’t you dare! she said swiftly.

I shrugged.

I let it go for a few more days and then decided that I really didn’t like limbo. I dug out the business card from where I’d stored it securely and rang the salon. Appointment made, I returned to my search for any porn that had eluded me to date.

The following morning, I told Jenny that I had to go out and wouldn’t be long. If she suspected my mission objective, she didn’t object. Maybe she wanted to give her battery-operated friend an outing, given that she’d been true to her word and had imposed a lockdown of her own.

I was actually looking forward to seeing Gina this time. I’d been ambushed first time around and inhibited by Jenny being there.

This time, I was fully prepared and alone.

Gina greeted me warmly.

‘I thought that you were one of the “once and done” people. Tried it, didn’t like it, never did it again type of people’ she said as she walked me down to the styling station.

‘I wasn’t sure at first, but it grew on me’ I laughed. She joined in. That’s what I like, a sympathetic crowd.

‘No wife making sure that you go through with it this time?’

‘She trusts me’ I replied, enjoying the tightness of the gown around my neck.

She didn’t respond. A respectful silence enveloped us as she applied a generous serving of shaving cream. This was a woman who knew exactly what effect she was having as she traced little circles across my scalp. She was almost reverent as she took out the razor.

I was already beyond a semi.

The razor strokes were effortless, appearing almost lazy, even though I knew that they were anything but. They were well-practised, expert even. I wanted her to shave me everywhere. In another life, I’d ask, in this one, I daren’t. She continued wordlessly. She didn’t even have to ask me to get up and move to the basin. I was a quick study.

The gentle pats with the towel had more meaning for me than she intended. They were foreplay in my mind; in hers, the final act before moving on to another head. I was just one step closer to the end of the day as far as she was concerned.

‘There’ she said eventually. ‘That’s you sorted’ she said, tossing the towel into a basket and looking at me to indicate that there was nothing else coming. I stood up.

‘Thanks again Gina’ I said

‘My pleasure’ she replied. I wondered. ‘Shall we book you in for next time or are you going to have a go yourself?’ she added as we walked back to reception.

‘We’ve had that discussion. Neither of us is brave enough.’

‘I’m happy to take your money off you’ she said with a smile. She opened the appointment system and looked at availability. ‘When were you thinking?’ she asked.

‘It needs to be less of a gap than this time. The suede-head thing hasn’t gone down very well’ I admitted.

‘Whatever you want. We can go weekly if you like’ she said.

She saw me wince.

‘I’ll do you a special deal for a weekly shave’ she offered.

‘That’s very good of you’ I replied.

‘Next one’s free, if you bring your lady wife to see me’ she said with a wink.

‘She’s very attached to whoever it is that she sees at the moment. I’m not sure that she’d take much notice of me.’

‘That’s a shame. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but she’s suffocating under too much hair. Someone needs to tell her that it’s time she did something different.’

‘Do I look that brave to you?’ I asked with a smile.

‘Mmmmm, maybe it’d be asking too much. Just get her in through the door when you come next time and I’ll see what I can do’ she offered. ‘If you want me to, of course.’

‘The idea intrigues me’ I replied. I use the words “intrigues me” in that phrase in the lesser-known sense of “gives me a boner”.

All the times I’d watched those videos and wondered what Jenny would look like if she got rid of her hair. Had I tried to picture her with a buzz cut? Definitely. Had I tried to picture someone shaving her head? Absolutely. Here was a professional opening the door to just such a scenario.

‘Only if you want me to, of course. You might not want your wife to cut her hair.’

‘How short were you thinking?

‘That would depend on her’ she replied.

‘As short as yours?’ I asked, starting to feel uncomfortable talking to her about my new-found interest.

‘I’d be aiming to get her shorter than mine. Can you picture that?’ she asked.

This was becoming awkward.

‘I’m not sure she’d go for it’ I replied.

‘I think you’ll find that she’ll do it if you want her to. That’s usually the key. Most women don’t miss the hassle of long hair and if it pleases their man, all well and good.’

‘So I just have to say the word and it comes off’ I joked.

‘You never know your luck’ she said, interrupted by the phone ringing. She handed me an appointment card. She hadn’t even asked me when suited, she’d just booked me in for a week’s time.

‘Thanks’ I said.

‘It’s a double slot. See you both next week’ she added with a smile.

She knew. Stylists probably had their own forums to discuss hair perverts. To discuss people like me. I was new to this game and I’d been rumbled. But she hadn’t called the police, she’d encouraged me, tried to draw me further in. I’d stumbled on a fellow pervert!

‘See you then Gina’ I said, turning for the door.

I drove home, processing my visit. I summarised what I knew. Shaving my head wasn’t a one-time thing. I was becoming more confident about it. Jenny was getting used to it. The woman who’d shaved my head was more than just a hair stylist. She shared a niche interest with me and she knew of my interest. I had fantasised about Jenny getting in the chair to have a radical hair cut. Gina apparently had too. I wanted Jenny to do it. Gina wanted to do it. The only obstacle was Jenny. That summary took the entire journey from town to my house.

I stole a glance at myself in the vanity mirror before getting out of the car. I was bald and I liked it. I strode to the front door and went in.

‘I’m back’ I said.

‘So you are’ Jenny called out from the lounge.

‘Get everything you needed?’

‘Just got tidied up, that’s all’ I said, putting my head round the door.

‘Come on. let me feel’ she urged.

I bowed my head and presented myself to her for her approval.

‘That’s better’ she said. ‘My man, properly bald.’

‘You’ve changed your tune.’

‘It took a bit of getting used to’ she replied.

‘Now it just turns you on.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far’ she said.

‘I think you owe me something’ I said, standing upright.

‘Such as?’

I unzipped my trousers and presented her with a gift of Gina’s making.

‘What do you expect me to do with that?’ she asked, poised to get to her knees already.

I placed a hand at the back of her head and applied slight pressure. She looked up at me. This was usually a birthday treat and never performed outside the confines of our bedroom. She moved in. I wondered whether the neighbours could see us through the blinds. I returned my hand to the back of her head and ran the fingers of the other hand through her dark tresses. I wound some hair around my fingers. I pulled slightly. She grunted, too polite to speak with her mouth full. I pressed her head into me, feeding off too many porn films. She was having the desired effect. She’d only been working me for a couple of minutes when the explosion came. I let out a little cry. My secret was out.

Jenny looked up at me and swallowed.

‘Someone likes going to the hairdresser’ she said, licking her lips. Did I blush?

‘That’s what happens when privileges are withdrawn’ I replied hurriedly.

‘Maybe I should ration things more often, if we get little moments like that’ she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

‘Would you like a cup of coffee, dear?’ I asked in my theatrical voice.

‘Please. No cream’ she smirked.

‘I love you when you’re dirty’ I confessed.

‘Only then?’

‘That’s when I love you most’ I replied, hastening my exit from the room before I got cornered.

We had dinner after we’d cleaned ourselves up. Her foot running up my calf under the table signalled that we weren’t done for the day. When it made its way to my groin, it was a signal that dinner was over.

Jenny smiled at me and held out her hand.

‘Time for dessert’ she said.

‘I don’t think that I could eat another thing’ I said, rubbing my other hand over my stomach. I needed to cut down on the sweet stuff, I thought.

‘I think I can find something to tempt you’ she said, standing up.

We were hand in hand.

‘Let’s go to bed’ she said.

‘Let’s not’ I retorted, turning to face her. I brushed her hair from her face, let my fingers slide down her neck, entwined in her

hair. She was looking at me, curious, wondering what I was going to do. Sex took place upstairs. This wasn’t upstairs. This was the kitchen.

My hand paused to squeeze her left breast. Hard. A declaration of intent. She looked at me defiantly. My hand released its grip and continued its journey, altering its course slightly to veer towards the centre. It cupped her mound through her skirt. Her eyes were still fixed on mine. I broke the connection and bent at the knees slightly, using both hands to lift her skirt. I crouched, taking hold of the waistband of her knickers and drawing them down in a smooth movement that suggested more practise than I could take credit for. I buried my face in her warmth, aware of her hands on my scalp, pulling me into her. This wasn’t something that had happened for a long, long time. This really was my dessert. With custard. Her hands pressed against my scalp. I wondered how I’d be able to explain a nail-raked scalp if it came to it. She was sighing, maybe even uttering a little moan, if I wasn’t flattering myself.

I took a final dip and eased myself up. She opened her eyes when I kissed her and she tasted herself. She stroked my head again and looked at me, trying to work out if this was her husband or an imposter. Before she’d had a chance to reach a conclusion, I’d turned her so that she was braced against the breakfast bar, backside out, husband in. I was proud of myself as I stood behind her, trying to think of a work presentation that I needed to prepare, rather than anything to do with the present situation. Slow and steady, I kept telling myself. Jenny appeared to be convincing herself that it was real by contracting her pussy muscles around me.

Not helpful!

I used her hair to pull her head back. She grunted her surprise and displeasure. I pulled again, trying not to overdo my sudden interest in her hair. I let it go and went for a few buttock slaps. I was rampant and in danger of betraying my online inspiration if I introduced too many new tricks. I felt reality start to intrude despite my best efforts. I went for the hair again with both hands and entered the home straight. I pumped as if I wanted to demolish the breakfast bar. Jenny was putting all her effort into weathering the storm. Her backside was taking a battering and then I delivered that actual the baby batter. I let go of her hair and encircled her with my arms, spent, surprised at myself.

The single pushback with her buttocks informed me that she had no further use for me. I peeled away and stood up. I comically pulled her skirt back down as we separated. She turned to face me, reaching up to stroke my bare scalp.

‘Something’s definitely got into you since you did that. Maybe we should’ve shaved you sooner’ she said with a playful slap of my face.

‘Just think what we’d be like if you said goodbye to this’ I said, flicking a piece of her hair over her shoulder. I regretted my indisciplined remark. Next, I’d be volunteering that I watched porn for hours on end.

‘You wouldn’t want that’ she said, gripping a hank of her hair near the ends to form a brush. A brush that she stroked across my face and down onto my chest. She carried on down, crouching so that the ends of her hair mingled with the tangle of my pubes. She kissed my shrinking cock and then wrapped the hank of hair round it like a blanket. Then she reversed the process. For good measure, she left a hand down below in case my cock felt the need for any support.

‘Are you sure that you’d want me to get rid of this?’ she asked.

The hand that had had been cradling my cock sensed my response.

‘My, my! It turns you on, doesn’t it? Me cutting my hair.’

How can you deny something when you’re hooked to a lie-detector? How do I get out of this?

‘It doesn’t seem right that I have nothing and you have so much’ I replied lamely.

‘That’s the way of the world. The haves and the have-nots’ she replied. ‘But that’s not what we’re talking about here, is it?’ she pressed. ‘You think about it, while I go and wash it, how about that?’ she said. She left me alone in the kitchen with my thoughts.

I did the only thing that I could. The dishes.

Jenny finished in the shower and we swapped places. I got cleaned up and she made post-meal, post-fuck coffee which was waiting for me when I came down in my finest dressing gown. She was wearing her robe, with only a passing attempt at having fastened the belt.

We went into the lounge and sat with our coffee like any respectable couple.

‘Do I have to drag it out of you?’ she said after a thoughtful pause.

‘What?’

‘Your sudden interest in my hair. You’ve never noticed it before and now here you are like a kid in a sweet shop.’

‘That’s not true. Of course I’ve noticed it.’

‘But you’ve never expressed an opinion about it.

‘You’ve never asked’ I countered.

‘I’m asking now’ she said, testing the temperature of her coffee.

I stood up and went to get my wallet from the hall. As I walked back, I pulled out the card that Gina had given me. I handed it to

Jenny and sat back down without a word.

‘What’s this?’ she asked.

‘An appointment card’ I replied, stating the obvious.

‘With my name on it. You made an appointment for me? A hair appointment.’

Her eyes were assailing me.

‘In my defence, I didn’t really make it.’

‘So what’s my name doing on it?’

‘Gina did it. I didn’t ask her to do it. I asked for an appointment for me and when she gave me the card, you were on there too.’

‘No doubt you argued vociferously on my behalf?’

‘I would’ve done, but she was sort of busy’ I said lamely.

‘But the two of you must’ve talked about me for her to have given you this.’

‘Sort of. I think she’s touting for business.’

‘You’ll have to do better than that, unless you want this to slam shut again’ she replied, opening her legs to give me a flash.

I took a slurp of my coffee.

‘She said that she’d like to cut your hair. Said that you were hidden by it’ I confessed, deciding that near-honesty was the best policy.

‘That’s more like it. And you of course told her that I have a regular salon that I go to?’

‘Of course I did, but you can’t blame her for trying.’

‘But you did nothing to dissuade her?’

‘I told her that you have someone, what else could I do?’

‘Tell her that you like my hair just the way it is, what about that?’

‘That’s one possible outcome’ I replied, feeling uncomfortable.

‘But you accepted the card.’

‘I didn’t want to be rude. I can ring her and cancel it.’

‘You could’ she replied.

I took refuge in my coffee again.

‘Since this appears difficult for you, how about this: you decide whether to cancel it or not. If you don’t cancel it, I’ll go. How about that?’

‘I’ll cancel it’ I said.

‘Think it over. You let her make the appointment, you brought the card home, you showed me the card. Doesn’t that tell you something?’

‘Tells me that I’m a sucker for a pretty lady’ I replied.

Jenny’s look would’ve withered a lesser man.

We went to bed with the appointment hanging over us.

Nothing more was said about Gina or the appointment. Until appointment day.

‘Any plans for today?’ Jenny asked casually at breakfast.

I looked at her. She hadn’t forgotten. She’d just been biding her time.

‘I’m going for a smoothing’ I said, putting a hand to my scalp.

‘On your own?’

‘You can tag along if you like’ I replied.

‘Do I need to wash my hair?’ she asked, avoiding the direct question.

‘If you want’ I replied.

‘You didn’t cancel it, did you?’

‘I forgot’ I replied.

‘You’re going to have to do better than that. If you want me there, you need to tell me that you want me to cut my hair, simple as that.’

I looked for a plausible way out. There wasn’t one.

‘Aren’t you curious to find out what Gina’s got in mind?’ I asked

‘You’re going to have to say the words’ she urged.

I sighed.

‘I think it’d be fun if you cut your hair. There, I’ve said it’ I said.

‘That wasn’t so difficult, was it?’

If only she knew.

We got ready. We went to town.

Gina greeted us like old friends when we arrived.

However, the greeting sailed straight over my head. I didn’t care what she said. I couldn’t care what she said.

She’d cut her hair. The bright red crop was no more. In its place was a dusting of bleached white stubble, a fraction of an inch on top and almost non-existent on the sides. It was like something from my recently-inaugurated “Hair fantasy” section, lodged deep within my imagination. (Take a left at “Fetish wear” and carry on past “Perky, pierced boobs”).

‘Say “Good morning” to the lady” Jenny urged, with a little encouragement from her elbow.

‘Hi, Gina. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a disguise’ I said inappropriately. That earned me a second elbow dig.

She smiled.

‘It’s okay, I decided to have a little fun. Do you like it?’ she asked.

‘It suits you. Very striking’ I replied, wondering how enthusiastic I could be in my wife’s company.

‘It’s fun’ she replied and then she moved on. ‘I didn’t think you’d come, to be honest’ she admitted, looking at Jenny.

‘You’ve piqued my curiosity’ Jenny replied.

‘Craig’s too, even more so now’ she replied, throwing me under the bus just like that.

We started to walk towards her styling station.

‘I was thinking that we should be traditional and say “ladies first” Gina said as we reached the chair.

I looked at Jenny. Jenny looked at me and shrugged. She sat down.

‘Did Craig tell you what we talked about?’ Gina asked as she eased a gown over Jenny.

‘He’s not been very forthcoming. You know what guys are like. He said that you’d talked about me going shorter, but that was about it.’

‘And what did you think about that?’

‘It was a bit of a surprise. He’s never mentioned anything to me about me cutting me hair.’

‘Would you, if he asked you?’

‘I don’t see why not’ Jenny replied. It was my turn to be surprised. Gina looked at me.

‘There you go, you only have to ask and your lovely wife will make you happy’ Gina said.

‘So have you got something to ask me?’ Jenny said. I was well and truly on the spot.

‘Yeah’ I replied. ‘Is it okay of I go and grab a coffee and leave you two ladies alone’ I said. That wasn’t what I really wanted, it was just safer for me not to be looking at Gina right now. There was a danger of someone slipping in the pile of drool that was bound to accumulate on the floor.

‘You can’ Gina replied ‘but she’ll look exactly the same when you get back as she does now.’ She smiled. She was gorgeous. If ever

I needed confirmation that I had a thing for short hair, she’d just proved it.

‘I thought you had a vision for her.’

‘I do, but if neither of you ask me to do it, I can’t really, can I?’ she replied.

‘No use asking me’ Jenny replied, appearing surprisingly calm in the circumstances.

‘So I get the blame, is that it?’ I said, slightly flustered.

‘It’s the best way’ Jenny said with a smile.

‘So…?’ Gina said, looking at me.

‘I think you should let Gina cut your hair’ I said without the slightest conviction in my voice. Although it may not have sounded like it, I saw divorce in my future unless Jenny became a Gina-substitute.

‘Sounds like you really, really want me to’ Jenny said, with an expression that could’ve been serious or could just been her yanking my chain.

‘I don’t have the imagination that Gina has. She has something in mind and I think it’d be great if you let her show you’ I said.

‘And you’d like that, even though she hasn’t told you what it is?’

‘I think it’d be interesting’ I replied. I took a seat at the next styling station, turning the chair towards where the action was going to be.

‘She could be planning anything’ Jenny said.

‘You don’t have to. We can just pay for Gina’s time and go and have coffee.’

‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’ Jenny observed astutely.

‘So are we saying that you’re ready to chop all this off?’ Gina asked, picking a tress of Jenny’s hair by the ends to emphasise just how much hair Jenny had actually got.

‘Craig?’ Jenny said.

I ventured another look at Gina.

‘I think you should. Just look at Gina now. She didn’t have half as much hair as you’ I said, suddenly growing a pair.

‘Just like that?’ Gina asked in a different tone from before. She looked at me, looked down at Jenny and then looked at me again.

‘If we can just get serious for a minute, you can set the boundaries here. If you’d like your ends trimmed, I’ll do that and no more. I want you to go home happy and I want you to come back, so there’s no question of me doing anything that you don’t want me to, despite the banter. I want people to come back to me, and that only happens if you like what I’ve done’ she said with the straightest of faces. I considered myself chastised.

‘That’s very considerate of you Gina’ Jenny said. ‘It’s so much easier when it’s just me and my stylist, without any outside interference’ she chuckled, reaching a hand out to me from under the gown. ‘If it was down to me though, I would just be keeping my regular appointment for my regular trim that Craig wouldn’t even notice. He probably doesn’t even realise that my hair grows!’

‘That’s not true!’ I objected. ‘Of course I notice.’

‘Not enough to ever say anything though, and that’s why I’m here. I need a kick up the backside and it’s something that Craig wants and to me that’s more important than what you actually do.’

I could almost feel myself welling up.

‘No pressure then, Craig’ Jenny said with that smile of hers.

‘Isn’t it safer for me just to say that I’m happy with whatever you decide between you?’

‘There you go again. Whether you like it or not, it looks like the choice is yours’ Gina said ‘so, I can give you anything between what Jenny’s got now and just shaving her head’ she said, looking at me. I was suddenly conscious of another client and stylist having arrived and wondered just how much they could overhear.

I was undecided between playing safe and exposing my secret.

‘I’d have to say that Jenny’s probably done the long hair thing to death, so let’s go with the short thing’ I said, exhibiting my in depth knowledge of hair techniques.

‘Gina, I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ Jenny butted in to spare me from embarrassing myself, ‘but did you intend to go that short or did your colleague decide for you?’

‘I’d told her that I wanted to go a good bit shorter. We just kept going’ Gina laughed.

‘Do you regret it?’

‘God, no. I’m not sure I’ll keep the dye job, but the cut is fantastic. It’s a real conversation starter and saves me a pile of time in the morning.’

‘There you go Craig, you’d be doing me a favour’ Jenny said.

‘Would your cut suit Jenny? I know there’s face shapes and features and all that stuff’ I asked Gina.

‘Is that where we’re going? Not tempted by a bob or a nice little crop, you just want to go straight for my “wash n’go” style?’Gina said with a knowingly-pointless flick of the head.

‘We’ve wasted enough of your time already’ I said.

‘That’s one way of looking at it’ Jenny said, eyebrows raised.

‘I do have someone straight after you two’ Gina advised a little awkwardly.

‘Best get the clippers fired up then’ I joked. I regretted my flippancy when both heads turned towards me. Both barrels. Ouch!

There was a pause.

‘I think that’s as straight an answer as you’re going to get’ Jenny said, looking at me pointedly.

For some reason, it didn’t feel like someone was making all of my Christmases come true. I wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment.

‘Okay then, glad we got that sorted!’ Gina said, turning Jenny’s chair back to face the mirror.

There was a  moment for sombre reflection and then Gina’s right hand reached down to pluck a set of clippers off a hook on the side of the styling station. Clippers that had been used on me. That may very well have re-imaged Gina herself in between my visits. She opened the drawer and peered in at the selection of attachments and other bits and pieces in there. She attached the guard to the body of the clippers without even having to look and then she flicked the switch that was about to transform my wife into something from the depths of my imagination. How would I cope with that? How would she cope with it? Would I need to confess my sins?

There wasn’t any drama or drawn out process. Gina had been given her green light and there was no going back. The blades touched the wispy hair at Jenny’s sideburn or whatever women call the bit in front of their ears. Gina eased them upwards, guiding them around Jenny’s ear into the lusher hunting ground towards the back of her head.

‘I always chickened out from having an undercut’ Jenny observed, intently watching reflected progress. ‘I thought it would be a pain to grow out when you got tired of it’ she added.

‘You never said that’ I jumped in. I wondered whether the sight of my wife coming home with an undercut would’ve awakened whatever it is that the internet has managed to unleash.

‘I saw them, but was never serious about it’ she replied.

‘I’ll let you see for real in a moment’ Gina said, making rapid progress. I watched her clipper-filled hand go up and down behind Jenny’s head, imagining that it was wrapped around my cock, guiding me to the obvious conclusion. Were there no boundaries to my thoughts? Here was someone going about their legitimate business with a right not to be thought-molested, and I was switching my attention from her divine backside to her head that was all-but shaved.

She was working her way around to the far-side of Jenny’s head, leaving me with the familiar view of long-haired Jenny. I wondered what guard she was using, trying my best to retain the image of the shorn part of Jenny’s head in my mind. In all of my online research I hadn’t paid too much attention to the technical aspects of the process. I was focussed on whether the end result was bald or had a little way to go before it was bald. Gina could’ve been using a number one or a number two, but to me it fell into the twin categories of “fucking short” and “something that I’d never expect to see my wife with”. Both were good.

‘Having fun?’ Jenny asked me, her head tilted towards me while Gina cleared the hair from the far-side.

‘I’d need a beer for it to be in that category, but I’m intrigued’ I said.

I saw Gina look across and received her unspoken instruction to utter something complementary.

‘It’s looking great’ I told her.

‘Give me a sec and I’ll show you properly’ Gina promised.

I couldn’t wait. A half-shaved wife was better than a long-haired wife, even if there was the promise of an almost completely shaved wife on the near-horizon.

The clippers went quiet and Gina laid them on the counter for a rest. I watched her gather Jenny’s long tresses in her hands and lift the hair up. It was some magic trick. There was a border around Jenny’s head. Above it, normal Jenny; below it, Heaven. It was true that she still had a covering of hair in the lower part, but it was more shading than meaningful hair.

Jenny rubbed her finger over the burr. ‘That’s a number one. I’ll do a number two for the top and then we’ll see where we go from there’ Gina said.

‘Home’ Jenny chirped.

‘I think you’ll want to stay a while longer, but we’ll see. Anyway, that’s you with the undercut that you could’ve had years ago’

Gina said. She let go of Jenny’s hair and I was looking at “familiar wife” again after the tantalising glimpse of “fantasy wife”. I watched Gina swap the guards on the machine. She looked at me. I wasn’t sure what her expression meant. Sympathy? Pity? When she held up the guard that she’d just removed, I realised that her expression was conspiratorial. I raised my eyebrows and nodded. Just the once. She smiled. I watched her sexy fingers expertly swap the attachments. Her expression now was asking if I was sure. Never more so, I replied silently. I’m not sure what message she received, but she got the gist.

Her left hand eased back the upper layer of Jenny’s hair, while the right guided the clippers across the top of Jenny’s head. This was a moment that had pre-occupied my waking thoughts ever since I’d made that first hair-related discovery. At the outset, I hadn’t thought about my wife sitting in the chair, but she’d been a more frequent occupant in recent days. Even then, I never thought that I’d actually see her being stripped back to the basic model, the one before the hair was applied. True, she still had stubble, but it was less than she’d expected and certainly less than I’d expected when we’d walked in together earlier on.

‘That’s short’ Jenny said.

Full marks for observation, but what are you going to do about it, I wondered.

‘I thought we could skip a stage’ Gina said without pausing from her harvest. Jenny didn’t reply, she just sat and watched as if this were happening to someone else.

The top of Jenny’s head was rapidly shedding its dark covering, merging with the sides that were so freshly shorn. A number one all over was hardly going to be the finished article, so I suspected that some of it was going to be a zero, like the lower slopes of Gina’s head. Maybe it wasn’t done with clippers, I wasn’t sure, but the end result was something to look forward to: the absence of hair on a part of my wife’s head. Guess which part would get my attention as soon as we got home.

Gina was sweeping Jenny’s hair away as if its very existence offended her. I looked at Gina’s bleached fuzz and wondered if that’s what lay in store for Jenny. I hadn’t encountered the idea of colouring hair during my research. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough, maybe it wasn’t a “thing”. I didn’t know much about the mechanics of it. Did it take too long? Was it dangerous? I just didn’t know. I’d settle for the cut for the time being and leave a colour for another day.

I looked at the growing pile of Jenny’s hair on the floor. There was hardly anything left that could join it. How many years’ growth was that lying there? Would she bother to let it grow back to that length? I hoped not, but you couldn’t account for changing tastes. What if I developed an interest in long hair? I’d better keep it to myself, if ever I did.

Jenny was staring at the unfamiliar reflection. Gina had switched off the clippers and was giving both of us a moment to take in what she’d just done. I waited for howling, but it didn’t come.

‘Well, no going back now’ Jenny said stoically, running a hand over her head. She turned to face me, so that I could see her as she was, rather than as a reflection. I nodded my appreciation, almost afraid to open my mouth in case my voice went strange with the excitement.

‘Decision time folks. Do you want me to do the sort of fade that I’ve got or do you just want to go for it, shave it all off? To be honest, you might as well, you’re that close already.’

Jenny looked at me.

‘Do you want a bald wife?’ she asked. That’s what it came down to, but there’s something weird about it when the question is voiced out loud.

‘You’re so close’ I replied.

‘One day, you’ll give me a straight answer’ she replied with a wry smile.

‘We can do the buzz next time’ Gina said, apparently reluctant to let the situation drag on.

She didn’t wait for a reply from either of us. The guard came off, the clippers came on. They were at Jenny’s forehead. My wife was about to be bald. Because of me and my secret interest. I felt guilt. I felt excitement. I’d wrestle with that conflict in the days to come, no doubt.

The clippers were like a mini-snowplough, pushing an accumulation of bristles across Jenny’s crown. In their wake was pale scalp. I was hard and not in a comfortable way. I wished that I could photograph that moment. Have a souvenir of my wife’s head being shaved by a gorgeous, bleached, buzz cut stylist. I couldn’t stand up, given the awkward bulge that I’d present, didn’t want to give away just how interested I was in this process. I watched another pile of tiny hairs tumble onto Jenny’s shoulder, but my eyes  were drawn back almost immediately to the bald stripe that Gina had just created.

The movement of the clippers was almost hypnotic. It  was so much better than when my view of the blades had been impeded by the accumulation of Jenny’s hair first time around. That obviously was exciting in a whole different way, but this was the endpoint and I liked to see the contact between blade and scalp, with the evidence being pushed away. Gina was quicker this time around, with no real resistance to what she was doing. I watched enthralled as the texture of Jenny’s scalp changed from suede to silk.

Jenny appeared to be taking it better than I would’ve expected. She was letting it happen, there were no tears, no fidgeting to indicate any form of discomfort at what was being done. She was joining me in the hairless world with no apparent objection. Maybe that would only become apparent when we got home. She dipped her head at appropriate moments and watched events in the mirror when she could. How different she looked without that tumbling mass of hair!

We both knew what was coming when the clippers fell silent. Foam and razor. The purpose of my visit, that had been delayed by Jenny’s queue-jumping. Gina spread cream on Jenny’s scalp, in the way that I was imagining that I’d do later. Only with a different sort of cream! I had to concentrate as hard as I could on a point on the far wall. It was becoming too much for me to watch Gina
shaving my wife and that was the only way that I could prevent an embarrassing accident. Knowing that I was going to be switching places with her very shortly didn’t help.

A voice brought me back to the uncomfortable present. The repeated question asked me what I thought.

‘Great! Wonderful!’ I replied, trying to look dispassionately at my bald and no doubt, super-smooth wife. Jenny stood up, ready to head over to the basin area.

‘You may as well jump in the chair while I just rinse Jenny off’ Gina said with a loaded smile. I waited until they’d got their backs to me before I dared get up, a quick round of pocket snooker ensured that everything was positioned as innocently as possible. I could see Jenny in the mirror, right at the edge. She was lying back, with Gina playing the jet across her head. Gina’s back was to me. She was bending over. It was nearly too much for me. I averted my gaze and looked down the salon, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden that I was a man in a predominantly female environment. I looked anyway. I heard footsteps coming back.

‘That’s me done’ Jenny said, as if she’d just had one of her usual trims, rather than having a seismic event rock her world. She

surprised me with how calm she was.

‘You look stunning’ I told her.

‘Wait until I get out into daylight. See what you think then’ she replied.

‘You’ll be even more stunning’ I said.

That remark got the non-verbal response that it deserved.

‘Right then mister, in case you thought that I’d forgotten you in all the excitement, let’s get you smooth’ Gina said with a rub of my stubbly scalp. Fuck, I wished that she hadn’t done that. I nodded and tried to zone out as much as I could. I just hoped that she wasn’t going to get chatty on me.

Thankfully she worked in silence, although her fingers were sending messages that were difficult to ignore. With every smear of the cream they were saying “I’m going to make you cum”. I believed them. I resolved never to share a hair appointment with Jenny again, it was just too pressurised.

I was only vaguely conscious of the razor skating over my scalp. I was seeing someone in the mirror that I pretended wasn’t me. To one side of that reflection was the image of a woman with no hair who was watching the other reflection. Looking at it like that was the only way that I could get through this process. Quite what would happen when the gown came off, I didn’t know.

Gina put a hand on my shoulder and told me that I was done “for this time”. I followed her to the basin, assumed the position carefully, bunching up the fabric of the gown in front of me and wished that it would be over quickly. Thankfully it was. I was patted dry, asked to stand up and then released from the gown. I walked over to Jenny who was standing up by the time I got there.

‘That’s better’ she said, stroking my scalp.

My mind shouted “DON’T”, but she did anyway.

There was a flurry of admiration and thanks between the three of us and then we were walking towards reception.

‘Do you want to book in for next week?’ Jenny asked me just before we got there.

‘You know what? Let’s wait and see how you feel about it first. We can always give Gina a call later’ I replied.

Gina shrugged politely, if that’s even possible and thanked us for the huge tip that Jenny gave her. I won’t even go down the route of developing that comment.

Jenny took my hand as we walked to the door and on to the street. She said nothing until we were a respectable distance from the salon.

‘Coffee?’ she asked.

‘Home?’ I suggested.

She smiled. ‘Like it that much, eh?’ she said with a smile.

We walked in silence. We drove in silence. We made it through the front door and I was safe.

Jenny’s hand gripped me through my jeans. She’d known what was there since we’d got in the car and probably before that. We kissed, her hand undoing my jeans even before I’d managed to stroke her scalp for the first time.

‘I think we need to take care of this quickly and then we can enjoy it properly’ she said, breaking off from the kiss. She sank to her knees and took me in her mouth, presenting me with a vision of perfection. At first, all I could see was her bald head, but then it was her bald head working my cock. I knew it wouldn’t last long and in a way that was only right. A blowjob in the hallway is a high-risk strategy, but sometimes these things just can’t wait.

She knew that I’d got turned on by the sight of her getting her head shaved, she knew that the dam was close to bursting and that there was nothing in it for her until she’d dealt with the immediate issue. Her lips were locked around my cock and she was working me vigorously with the sole aim of getting me off. She didn’t have long to wait. I had both hands on her scalp, feeling the smoothness and then I felt the inevitable. Relief! Relief that I’d cum, relief that it hadn’t happened in the salon, which had been a distinct possibility. She slid my cock out of her mouth and looked up at me, hamster-cheeks full of cum. She wiped her mouth and swallowed.

‘That’s that sorted, then’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘Anything else I can help you with?’

I wrapped my arms around her and stroked her scalp. ‘Thank you’ I said. ‘For everything.'”

***********************************************************************************************

This is Jenny again. Now that I’ve read what Craig wrote, and looked at some of the other stuff in his stash, I should probably clarify a few things and let you know my final thoughts about all of this.

It always amuses me that Craig thinks that I don’t know about him watching porn. I mean, how stupid does he think I am? I don’t mind, as long as he pays attention to me when I want him to. I also like the occasional little tricks that he introduces into our sex life from time to time. Things that he could never have dreamt up for himself, so it’s obvious that he does “research”. I just didn’t know the extent of his commitment to the cause, until I stumbled on that folder on his laptop. I wasn’t prying, wasn’t spying on him, I was just looking for the purchase date for our freezer, to see whether it was still under guarantee. He keeps stuff like that and he was out, so it made sense for me to show some initiative. I found way more than purchase information about our white goods!

The file dates showed the progression of his interest, from vanilla porn through to more “niche” stuff. I was pleased to find no evidence of deviant stuff and pleased with his comments in this diary thing that he wrote. It surprised me that actual porn downloads appear to have fizzled out and his pre-occupation is now with people getting haircuts. Men and women, although heavily
tilted towards women.

In true spy-fashion, I copied some of these things to a removable drive so that I could check them out more thoroughly while he was “working” upstairs. It’s amusing that while he’s doing research, I’m double checking his “work” without his knowledge. The real eye-opener though, was this confession that put everything in context for me. I’m not sure why he wrote it. Was it just so that he could read it from time to time and know that it was an eye-witness account of the events that led up to one of the most momentous days of our relationship?

I actually made the initial discovery after he’d shaved his head the first time, so was getting up to speed with his new-found interest even before he went back to Gina for his first re-shave. By the time the idea of my going to her had come up, I knew all that I needed to know. Once he produced that appointment card, there was only one thing for it: talk to Gina.

So, when we walked in to the salon for our joint session, I’d met Gina a few days before, had coffee with her and made her my accomplice. To be honest, she hadn’t needed much persuasion. So, all that stuff in the salon about Craig needing to say explicitly what he wanted to do was essentially Gina and I tag-teaming him. We’d already decided during our secret meeting that I would try a headshave. Hell, I was curious as to what I’d look like and had seen enough of Craig’s collection to know that it could be exciting, for both of us. I loved the way that Gina made him think that he’d had something to do with the end result. She was playing him like a fiddle, but he thought that she was conspiring with him against me, when all the while, it was Gina and I setting him up. We both played our parts to the full.

When I’d had coffee with Gina, she’d still had that cute red crop, and during our discussion she’d said that I’d put the idea into her head of doing something drastic with her own hair. When I next saw her, she’d barely got any hair left and what there was had been bleached white blonde. I had to pretend that I’d had no idea that she would look different. I managed to sneak her an appreciative nod when Craig wasn’t looking and from there, I just couldn’t wait for her to shave me. Now there’s a phrase I couldn’t have seen myself using just a few weeks ago. I didn’t think that I’d have discovered the Rosetta Stone to translate my husband’s innermost desires either.

I love that I know that my husband has a more adventurous side that he wants to reveal, but is worried about revealing it to me.

Since I went bald, the gloves have come off a little more and hopefully that will continue. He went out to get a newspaper a while ago, but he won’t be long. I hope not anyway, because I’ve been drinking glass after glass of water all morning and I’m bursting.

I’ve put a plastic dust-sheet on the kitchen floor and one of his little fantasies is about to come true.

Do I like being bald? I like not having to spend ages doing my hair in the morning. I like looking exotic. I like knowing just how much it turns my husband on. Am I going to stay bald? Well, that’s up to him.

I think I just heard his car pull up. I’ve got to go. In more ways than one.

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