Sit Perfectly Still

Sit Perfectly Still

“You’ve got to sit perfectly still,” he commanded in a voice that was firm, but caring. “This is the most difficult part.”

She said nothing, just stared straight ahead, having difficulty believing what was happening to her. Between her thumb and index finger she nervously twisted a severed strand of silver-gray hair, a lock that had been attached to her head only moments before. Scattered on the floor, beneath the chair where she sat, was a mound of similar locks, much more than now remained in place on her scalp. She heard the ominous drone of the clippers growing louder as he approached from her side. Then she closed her eyes. She felt him insert his comb into the hair above her brow. She heard the hungry blades as they ran across its horizontal plane. She felt a shower of fine clippings raining down on her forehead and nose but made no move to dislodge them.

He moved the comb further back and made a second pass across her head, and then a third.

This finally was happening to her, something she said she would never do. She was allowing her boyfriend, her lover, to administer the haircut she rejected as too extreme, too masculine.

Why had she put herself in this traumatic position? What in the world had come over her?

Yet, she knew the answer all too well. All she had to do was think back to that evening five months ago when she and her partner, Jake was his name, sat in front of the wood stove that held a crackling fire while a howling blizzard raged outside.

It had been a time for truth. They had consumed nearly half a bottle of Jack Daniels during the evening, but neither of them was drunk. Very mellow perhaps, but not drunk.

“I’d like to brush your hair,” he whispered in her ear.

“You know where I keep the brush. Go get it,” she purred.

He undid the thick braid that hung midway down her back and began gently stroking her flowing tresses. “Hmmm. That feels so good,” she purred. This was not the first time he had brushed her hair. On all previous occasions it had been a prelude to some very intense lovemaking. For Jake and Cath it was a kind of foreplay. “This really turns you on, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“You bet it does, babe,” he answered.

“You think I need a trim?” she continued. In his previous lives Jake had been many things—a lumber jack, a fire fighter, a rodeo clown, a substitute school teacher, and also a barber. Three years ago he had surprised Cath by offering to trim her split ends. She hesitated before letting him use his scissors on her meticulously groomed locks. It was the one thing she was vain about. Cath didn’t pay much attention to clothing styles. In the summer she often wore the same t-shirt and pair of jeans for a week or more before changing. Same thing for jewelry—just a single turquoise ring and silver studs in her ears were enough. But her hair was different. She washed it every other day, used only Panteen Pro-V shampoo and conditioner, and brushed it religiously each morning and evening. Most women her age had long since abandoned long hair, but not Cathleen Moran. At sixty-two she still turned male heads, especially when she wore her luscious tresses freely streaming down her back. They were a stunning mix of silver and gray, with a noticeable wave. There was nothing she liked better than strolling on the beach with the wind rustling in her flowing mane. She smiled inwardly when strangers remarked on her resemblance to the country singer Emmy Lou Harris, which they often did.

But Jake had convinced her he knew what he was doing. He promised he would remove only half an inch. If she wasn’t pleased with the result he would never mention it again. She consented and found she could trust him.

Since then he repeated the same minimal haircut every three months or so, each time with the same highly satisfactory outcome.

“Yeah, you could use a trim, babe,” Jake replied. “But this time I’d like to do more.”

Cath straightened up and turned to look him in the eye. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“A haircut, babe. I’d like to give you a real haircut.”

“Something wrong with the way I look?” she inquired, her blue eyes flashing.

“I love the way you look, but I think you’d look better with a shorter haircut,” he calmly informed her.

“How long have you felt this way?” she inquired angrily.

“Since the first time I met you,” he confessed. “Don’t get me wrong, you look really great right now, like a million bucks. But you’d look even hotter with a nice short haircut.”

“If you think I’m letting you get close to me again with those scissors in your hands, mister, you’re badly mistaken. I’m a long-haired girl for life. Always have been. Too late to change at this late date.”

“Alright, babe. Calm down. I respect your wishes. I just thought you should know what I honestly believe.”

Although the fire burned bright, a chill descended on the room after that sharp exchange. Jake took longer than usual in the bathroom before coming to bed. There was no sex between them that night. Cath suspected he used the time before retiring to jerk off.

The icy tension persisted for nearly a week. Finally, Cath broke the silence. “Jake, honey, I hate that we’re not talking.”

“Me too, babe. It really sucks.”

“So you think it’s possible for us to have a serious conversation like rational adults without losing our cool?”

“I’d like to try,” he said.

“Okay, let me begin,” she said. “It seems you have a really strong desire to see me with short hair. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“What if I started wearing my hair pinned up. Would that satisfy you?”

“Nope.”

“What if I bought a wig the same color as my real hair only shorter?”

“It would still be pretend.”

“What if I let you cut it to here?” she said, pointing to her bra strap.

“Still too long.”

“What about a bob to here?” she continued, this time indicating a point between her shoulder and jaw.

“Not short enough.”

“Then we’ve got a serious problem.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, can you explain to me where this desire comes from.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s something I’ve felt for as long as I can remember.”

“You mean it’s not just my hair, but any woman’s?”

“Yup. I see a woman with long hair like yours and I start thinking how much better she would look with a nice short haircut.”

“And this is a turn on for you?”

“Yeah, it is, big time.”

“Do you think about this when we’re having sex?”

“Yeah, I do,” he sheepishly admitted. “Look Cath, guys get turned on by lots of different things, girls too, I expect. It’s not so strange.”

“I suppose not. It’s just that no guy has ever asked to cut my hair before. This is not some abstract quirk. It’s my hair we’re talking about.”

“I guess I should shut up about it then,” Jake offered.

“But not talking about your obsession with my hair won’t make it go away will it? That’s not really a satisfactory solution.”

“I suppose not, but I don’t see any other alternative.”

“Let me think about it for a while. Maybe I can come up with something.”

Two days later Cath stopped Jake before he went off to work. “Jake, about my hair. Do you have a picture of how you’d like to cut my hair?”

“Sure, I can find something to show you tonight,” he promised.

That evening, after he returned from work, Jake sat down at the computer. Before long Cath heard the printer humming. Her boyfriend emerged from their study with a photo in his hand. “Here’s the picture you asked for,” he said as he handed it to her.

Cath sat in silence, staring at the photo for a long time. “Jake, I don’t know what to say. The girl in this picture has hardly any hair at all. Her haircut, it’s so short. She looks like a Marine recruit. That’s a man’s haircut, nothing feminine about it.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” he admitted. “You asked to see it. Don’t blame me.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed. “Be careful what you ask for. That’s a lesson for me.”

“I can see you don’t like it. Guess I should have seen that coming. Sorry if you’re offended.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m not offended exactly. Shocked would be a better word to describe what I’m feeling right now. Never in a million years would I dream of getting a haircut like that.”

“Yeah, I know that photo’s pretty extreme,” Jake acknowledged.

“Extreme is putting it mildly. I don’t know how you could ever imagine I would consent to have my hair cut like that,” she told him so forcefully he couldn’t possibly mistake her rejection of his proposal.

“Frankly, I didn’t think you’d go for it. You asked to see what I had in mind, so I showed you. I figured you wanted my honest answer and I gave it to you. Now I hope you can forget I ever mentioned getting your hair cut.”

“Easy for you to say,” she retorted. “This isn’t like an Etch-A-Sketch drawing you can just shake and it disappears. The image of that poor woman with almost all of her hair shaved off is going to stay with me for a long, long time.”

“Okay, okay. I get your message. I’ll just shut up and won’t mention cutting your hair again.”

Jake kept his word and for the next two weeks not a word about their difficult conversation passed between them. Yet both he and Cath seemed seriously inhibited by its fallout. She noticed that her boyfriend was not his usual exuberant self. Most alarming, he showed no interest in sex. Jake saw that Cath either kept her hair pulled up in a bun or twined into a thick braid, apparently abandoning the free-flowing style he found so provocative.

Finally, Cath decided to confront this unspoken barrier between them. Jake was cruising the Internet when she walked up behind him. “Jake, we need to talk,” she softly intoned.

“What about?” he answered without looking up from his keyboard.

“I think you know,” she told him.

He turned to look at her. “You mean we should talk about your hair?” he queried.

“That’s right. I hate the way we’ve been acting lately. You and I need to make peace and put an end to this cold war between us.”

“And what do you propose?” he asked bluntly.

Cath understood that the burden of restoring peace to their relationship rested on her shoulders alone. Jake was not going to help, yet she continued. “I was considering what you said about cutting my hair,” she began.

She paused, waiting for Jake to respond. After a long silence, he said, “And?”

Cath took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about letting you cut my hair,” she announced.

“And what did you decide?” he asked, showing more considerably more interest.

“I never realized how important it was to you to see me with a different hairstyle. I might be willing to let you give me a shorter haircut if you promised not to cut it too short.”

Jake pounced hungrily. “And how short is that?”

“You can cut it to the middle of my back—to my bra strap– but not an inch more,” she explained.”

“That will be a good start,” he allowed.

“No, you don’t understand. I won’t go any further. If you aren’t willing to respect my wishes, you can just forget about it.”

“Okay, okay. Bra strap length it is,” Jake conceded. “When shall we do this?”

“How about tomorrow night?”

“You’re on, babe,” he eagerly confirmed.

Cath arrived home from school at the usual hour and found Jake waiting for her, a glass of wine in his hand.

“Took off from work early,” he explained

“I suppose you’re ready to begin my haircut right now, aren’t you?”

“Ready whenever you are, babe.”

“Not just yet, mister,” she cautioned. “First, I’d like you to pour me a glass of whatever you’re drinking. Then I’m going to take a shower and wash my hair. I’m sure the haircut will go better with my hair damp.”

Jake poured a generous glass from the bottle on the kitchen counter. “Ummm, this is fine,” Cath exclaimed. “Much better than the stuff you usually buy.”

“It’s a California cabernet. Special wine for this special occasion,” he informed her.

“You can get your things ready. I’ll be out in a while.”

Twenty minutes later she emerged wearing a white cotton robe and her head wrapped in a matching towel. “I should sit here?” she asked, pointing to a stool in the middle of their small kitchen.

“Yup,” he answered. “Not exactly a salon, but the best I could do under the circumstances.”

“It’ll do just fine,” she assured him.

She perched on the stool, removed the towel from her head, slipped out of her robe, and shook out her damp locks. Jake took the towel from Cath and draped it around her shoulders, then selected a comb from among the barbering tools he had laid out on the nearby kitchen table. He began running it through her long hair, gently removing the tangles he encountered. Ten minutes passed in silence before he rested. “I’m going to clip the top half up so I can cut it in sections,” he informed her.

“You didn’t do that before,” she observed.

“Didn’t need to for a trim. This is gonna be a good bit more.”

“Yeah, I almost forgot,” she said in a feeble attempt at a joke.

He drew a line with his comb about half way up her head, divided the upper half into two sections, and twisted each section of hair atop either side of her head, fastening them with long metal clips. He grabbed his comb and again ran it through the unclipped section of her hair until it hung perfectly straight. He picked up his scissors and placed his index finger in the middle of her back. “This where your bra strap comes?” he asked.

“About an inch higher.”

“Here?” he asked again after shifting his finger.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she confirmed.

Jake held a section of her hair between two fingers of his left hand, inserted the scissors below his fingers and slowly cut a horizontal line. Six inches of Cath’s silver-gray locks slithered to the cabin floor. He moved to his left, selected another section of hair and cut again. Then came a third and a fourth and a fifth cut. Neither of them said a word. The only sound was the metallic grinding of the scissor blades amputating more of her locks. Cath closed her eyes and tried taking slow, deep breaths to control her rapid heartbeat. Jake concentrated on making the straightest cut humanly possible.

When he snipped the last strand on the left side of her head he declared, “Half way there.”

“And not a minute too soon. I swear, you are the world’s slowest hairdresser,” she cried in mock exasperation.

“Nothing wrong with taking my time. Didn’t want to mess up,” he countered.

“Before you do the next section, can you pour me another glass of wine?”

“Yes, your highness. Anything else you need? A massage or a manicure perhaps?”

“Hold the sarcasm. Just bring me the wine.”

When Cath was settled again Jake removed the clips, let down the hair from the top of her head and combed once again. Then he repeated the procedure from the preceding stage, carefully shortening her hair along the line created by his previous cut. Cath silently endured Jake’s painstaking precision, not wanting to disrupt his concentration.

Finally Jake announced, “Finished.”

Cath rose from her seat and removed the towel from her shoulders. “I’m glad you don’t charge by the hour,” she joked.

“You couldn’t afford me if I did charge for my services,” he answered.

She looked down at the mass of gray clippings scattered on the floor in a semicircle around the stool. “My goodness, it looks like someone lost a year’s growth of hair here.”

Jake was tempted to tell Cath that what she saw on the floor was only a sample of what he wanted to remove, but he knew better than to aggravate her at this critical moment.

Cath disappeared into the small bathroom off the kitchen and for the next fifteen minutes Jake listened to the high-pitched drone of her hair dryer as he finished off the bottle of cabernet. He watched closely when Cath emerged, searching her face for a sign of satisfaction or disappointment.

“Well, your highness, what’s the verdict? Thumbs up or thumbs down? Do we castrate the poor barber now or later?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she smiled. “You did a marvelous job. I love the way it looks and feels.”

“Turn around so I can see,” Jake requested.

Cath twirled around so her hair flew out from her head. “I couldn’t do that before,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. She threw her arms around his neck and planted a fervent kiss on his lips. “You’re hired as my personal hairdresser.”

“I accept, your highness. Now, are you ready for dinner?” he inquired.

“I didn’t know dinner was included with the haircut.”

“Yes, my sweet, it will be served when you’re naked in our bed.”

“So my haircut was foreplay, was it?” she teased. “I can hardly wait for the main course. Give me a minute to change into nothing,” she said as she turned and sauntered in the direction of the bedroom.

The next night at dinner Cath was in an especially expansive mood. Her fellow teachers had been unanimous in their praise of her new haircut. “They all said I looked years younger,” she told Jake. “Some of my students even gave me compliments. That’s unprecedented. I’ve always heard that a change in a woman’s hairstyle can be good for her ego, but I never appreciated the truth of that statement until today.”

“You probably think I’m biased, but I agree with your colleagues and students. You definitely are one hot mama. I knew it all the time. Now the cat’s out of the bag.”

“So I guess I should say thank you to you for persuading me to let you cut my hair.”

“Yes, you should. Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Jake. You did an excellent job cutting my hair.”

“Remember that the next time you feel your hair creeping below your bra strap.”

“I certainly will.”

For the next three months Jake said nothing to Cath about another haircut. He had learned that patience was necessary if he was going to achieve his goal. From time to time he noticed his lover looking critically into the mirror as she brushed her silver-gray locks. He thought she might be thinking about going shorter, but he wasn’t going to rush her.

Finally, his opportunity came. It was a Saturday morning. Cath had slept late, but Jake had been up for hours. At last he heard the water running in the shower. Thirty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a thick white towel, her body swathed in a floor-length robe.

“Jake, darling,” she cooed. “You think you could cut my hair this morning?”

“Your wish is my command,” he replied. “Give me a minute to gather my tools.”

“Good, that will give me time to grab a cup of coffee.”

While Jake retreated to the bedroom to retrieve his barbering implements, Cath filled her mug with steaming coffee, seated herself on a stool in the middle of the kitchen, and removed the towel from her head, letting the damp locks fall down around her shoulders.

Jake returned, positioned himself at her side and, without saying a word, began combing her silver-gray tresses. “Hmmm, that feels wonderful,” she said, breaking a long silence.

“So, what would you like me to do today?” Jake asked hopefully.

“I don’t know. What would you like to do?” she countered.

“Something shorter,” he replied with only the briefest of pauses.

“Yeah, I kinda expected you would say that.”

“So what do you think? About going shorter, I mean.”

“Well, it turned out very well last time. I might be willing to let you cut it shorter this time. But nothing too radical. I’m not looking for a major makeover.”

“Okay. I get the message. What I’d really like to do is to cut it about here,” he said, indicating a point at the side of her neck at shoulder level. Cutting there would remove six or seven inches of her carefully tended mane.

“Ouch,” she winced. “That’s quite a lot.”

“It is, but it’s such a classic length—long enough so you can still wear it up or pulled back into a pony tail. But it’s going to look so classy turned under your chin, kinda like Gloria Steinem.”

“You’re gonna make me look like her?”

“Yeah. I think you could pull it off.”

“Wow. That would be so cool,” she exclaimed.

“So you’re willing to let me do it?”

“I guess so. But if it doesn’t turn out like you promised, I’m not letting you come near my hair with a scissors in your hand for at least a year.”

“I did okay last time, didn’t I?”

“You did fine last time, honey. I just don’t want you getting carried away.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.”

Jake positioned the stool in the middle of the kitchen once again and Cath sat with her back to him. She slipped out of her robe and lifted her hair off her neck so Jake could arrange the towel around her shoulders as he had done before.

As he began combing her damp tresses Jake noticed that his mate was not nearly as tense as she had been for her previous haircut. He pinned up half of her hair as he had done before. Placing his scissors level with her shoulder, he made the first cut. “You realize,” Cath said as he continued cutting, “my hair hasn’t been this short since I was in high school.”

“That so?” he grunted. “I think you’re gonna like the look.”

“For your sake, you better pray that I do.

“Don’t distract me. I gotta concentrate,” he told her gruffly.

The haircut continued in silence for another twenty minutes. Jake skillfully removed another six inches of Cath’s silvery locks, following the same procedure he had used on her previous cut. When he finished, the ends of her blunt-cut hair hung a fraction of an inch above her shoulders.

Jake removed the towel and Cath disappeared into the bathroom without a word. Once again Jake waited as she blow dried her shortened tresses. When she emerged, he didn’t have to ask if she liked her new hairstyle, her beaming smile told him all he needed to know.

“Jake Anderson, you’re a genius. This haircut is fantastic,” she exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted an ardent kiss square on his mouth. They clung together for a minute. When she pulled away, Cath stroked the front of his jeans. “I think we’ve got some business to attend to in the bedroom,” she cooed.

When Cath returned from her teaching duties Monday evening her buoyant mood continued. Jake could see it as she almost skipped up the path to their cabin. “Have a good day, love?” he asked, already knowing what her reply would be.

“Best ever,” she crowed triumphantly. “The girls loved my new haircut. They stopped me in the halls to admire your handiwork. I said it before, and I’ll say it again, Jake, you’re a genius.”

“I just aim to bring out my woman’s natural beauty. It don’t take a genius to see you’re the best looking woman for miles around.”

As they nuzzled in bed after making love that night, Jake whispered in her ear, “Just you wait till next time.”

“No, Jake,” Cath pleaded. “I think you’ve gone far enough.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” he answered. He knew it would be futile to propose another change so soon. He would bide his time for a while.

The summer months were warmer than usual. Cath spent much of her school vacation reading and hiking to secluded valleys and ponds. Jake wasn’t around the cabin as much. It was the busy season for construction, and he often worked 12 hour days.

It was a Friday evening in the middle of August and nearly dark when Jake approached their cabin. From the way he dragged his feet, Cath could see he was about worn out. He and his crew had been pressing to finish a luxury home for a wealthy out-of-state client. She greeted him at the door with a beer in her hand. “Boy, do I need a cold brew tonight,” he exclaimed as he snatched the bottle from her hand and took a long pull.

“Would you like me to run a bath for you?” she asked as he collapsed into his favorite easy chair.

“Yeah, babe. That would be great.”

Cath disappeared into the bathroom and Jake relaxed while she filled the tub.

“You’ve been working much too hard,” she remarked as she returned to his side. “When is this job gonna be done?”

“We’re almost there. I figure we can wrap it up by tomorrow noon. Then we can turn it over to the paint crew and the landscapers. Everything should be complete by Labor Day.”

“That’ll be great. I hope you take some time off before you start your next job.”

“That’s the plan, babe. I thought you and me could get away for a couple of days. Just chill out for a while.”

“That’d be great. Once school starts it’s gonna be hard to get away, but next week would be perfect.”

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked.

“How about the ocean? That would be a good change of pace.”

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Kake exclaimed. “It’s been years since I’ve been to the ocean.”

“Me to,” she chimed in.

Saturday afternoon they piled into Jake’s Jeep and headed east until they reached Rehoboth Beach. It was nearly midnight when they arrived and both were weary from their drive, but they immediately kicked off their shoes and walked barefoot through the surf. Back at their motel, they began unpacking. Cath noticed a strange package in Jake’s suitcase. “What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s my haircutting kit,” he explained.

“You’re not planning on cutting my hair again, are you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he answered. “I thought you might give me a trim.”

“But I know nothing about cutting hair.”

“That’s okay. The kind of haircut I want doesn’t require much experience.”

Cath was puzzled. “I don’t understand. I’m sure this haircut requires a lot of skill,” she said, pointing to his moderately long locks.

“I’m tired of this style. I’d like to try something much shorter. A buzz cut.”

“You mean one of those really short haircuts, the same length all over?”

“Yeah. That’s what I’d like. You reckon you could do that?”

“I suppose I could give it a try. If you can wait until tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do.”

Cath and Jake spent most of the day at the beach, frolicking in the surf, dozing in the shade of a rented umbrella, and generally relaxing. Around four they returned to their room and showered.

“Ready for your haircut now?” Cath asked.

“Yeah. Let’s get set up.” Jake unpacked his haircutting kit and took a towel from the bathroom. Then he spread a newspaper on the carpeted floor. “Don’t want to make a mess with hair all over the place,” he explained.

“Tell me what I need to do,” Cath requested.

“It’s real easy,” her mate replied. “Here are the clippers. Plug the cord into the wall socket, then pick the guide you want to use,” he said, pointing to an array of plastic attachments spread on the bed.

“I know what the clippers do, but what do I do with these attachments?”

“They determine the length of the cut. They fit over the blades of the clippers.”

“So, which one do you want me to use?”

“That’s up to you. Number 4 will cut my hair to half an inch; number 2 to a quarter inch, and so on.”

“Let’s start with number 4.”

“Okay. Let’s get started.”

“Where shall I begin?”

“Start in the back, then work around to either side. Leave the top for last.”

“I see,” she said as she switched on the power. “Here we go.”

Cath placed the droning implement at the base of Jake’s neck and slowly drove the clippers into his thick dark hair. “Goodness,” she exclaimed as the blades chewed a path up the middle of his head. “This certainly is a hungry little beast.”

Her partner said nothing as she continued merrily mowing the back of his head. Three, four, and five times she guided the clippers up into the mass of hair, gradually widening the shorn patch until it reached from ear to ear. When Cath paused after clipping near both of his ears, he finally spoke. “Now move to the side and do the same on each side.”

She did as she was told and directed the shearing device into his right sideburn, then continued upward through the hair on his temple. More cutting continued as she cleared the area around his ear. Then she shifted to his left side and repeated the procedure until both ears stood cleanly out from his head.

Now the only remaining long hair hung from the crown of Jake’s head. “What shall I do now?” she inquired.

“Don’t leave me like this, babe,” he pleaded. “Run the clippers straight down the middle.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” she retorted in a mocking tone. She placed the clippers at his forehead, plowing a three inch furrow across the top of his head.

Cath paused to inspect the damage she had inflicted. “If you could only see yourself now,” she sniggered.

“Get on with it, woman,” her victim sternly commanded. “I don’t appreciate your hilarity.”

“Yes, my lord,” she answered. “You’ll be completely scalped in no time.”

She went back to work, clipping away the dark locks on either side of her initial cut. Cath hummed an indistinct tune as she finished this last task. After brushing away stray clippings from his forehead, ears and neck, she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“You look so different,” she exclaimed. “Almost like a new man.”

“There’s a small mirror in my kit. Please hand it to me.”

She did as Jake asked and waited silently as he critically examined the extreme haircut she had administered.

“What do you think, daring?” she cooed. “I hope it’s not too short.”

“Not short enough,” he grunted. “Go over it again, this time use the number two guide.”

“This one?” she said, extending one of the shiny attachments in her hand.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he told her.

Cath exchanged the guides and powered the clippers again. This time she worked more quickly, buzzing the top, sides and back, sending a shower of tiny shards flying from Jake’s head. After reducing his dark mane to a pelt of short bristles, she handed him the mirror a second time.

“That’s more like it,” he remarked approvingly. “Not bad for a beginner.”

“I’m so relieved,” she said as she dusted the remnants of his long hair from around his face. “I was afraid I’d mess it up.”

“Not at all. You did a fine job,” he praised her. “Now there’s one last thing you gotta do before we’re done here.”

“What’s that?”

“I need you to shave my neck.”

“Jake, honey, I don’t think I can do that. I’ve never used a razor except to shave my legs.”

“No, babe. Not like that. Just take the guide off the clippers and run them up my neck. Clip off those little hairs down on my neck. Then turn the clippers over and square off the bottom of my hairline.”

“Okay. I’ll do it like you said as long as you don’t get mad if I mess up.”

“You’ll do fine. I’ve got complete confidence in you.”

So Cath removed the guide, fired up the clippers again and very carefully ran the exposed blades up both sides of his neck. Then she inverted the barbering implement and trimmed along his hairline as Jake had instructed.

“I think that should do it,” she announced as she cut the power to the clippers.

Jake reached his hand behind his head and felt the shaved region of his neck. “Nice and smooth. Just the way I like it.”

“I’m so glad. I was nervous as can be,” she confessed. “But you were right. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought.”

“You’re a natural, Cath. But I’ve got a question for you.”

“What’s that, lover boy?”

“What do you think of my new haircut? Give me your honest opinion.”

“Well, you were pretty damn sexy before, but you look even sexier now.”

“Sexy enough to screw?” he asked with a hopeful grin.

“I thought you’d never ask, handsome.”

Jake awoke early the next morning with his lover snuggled against his back with one hand stroking his newly clipped scalp. “Morning, lover,” she purred in his ear. “Are you ready for some more lovin’?

”
Jake rolled over to face her and began gently probing her clit. “Usually, I don’t fuck my barber, especially not before breakfast, but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”

An hour later Cath emerged from the shower toweling her freshly washed hair. “Jake, I was wondering,” she began. Then she paused.
“Yes, what are wondering about?”

“Well, since you brought your barber kit, I thought you might give me a haircut today.”

“Sure, I’ve got nothing on my schedule. I’d be happy to give you a trim.”

“But it’s not a trim that I’m looking for. I want a serious haircut, a short haircut.”

“You mean you’re ready for the haircut I showed you two years ago?”

“I am, or at least I think I am,” she stated somberly.

“What changed your mind?”

“It was cutting your hair last night that did it. The whole time I was running the clippers over your head I was imagining how it would feel if I were in the same position. Now I can’t get that notion out of my head. I can’t guarantee I’ll like the result, but I want to try it. For once in my life I want to experience short hair.”

“Now there’s lots of short haircuts for women. You don’t have to go short as the woman in that picture I showed you,” he cautioned.

“But that’s what you want and that’s what I want too, or at least something similar.”

“What do you mean by something similar?” he questioned.

“Maybe not so brutally short. The same shape and style, just a little longer.”

“Sure, I can do that. It would be more like a classic flat top, not a military cut.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d like.”

“Well, if you’re really serious about this, you better start packing.”

“Packing? What do you mean?”

“Because I can’t give you that haircut in this motel room. I need the proper equipment. I’ll need to use Buddy’s barber shop.”

“I don’t want to get my haircut with a bunch of men staring at me.”

“No. It’s not gonna be like that, Cath. Buddy will let me use his shop in the evening after he closes or on Sunday. We’ll shut the blinds. It’ll be very private, I promise.”

“Yes, that would be okay, I guess.”

“Good. I’ll give Buddy a call to see if we can use his shop tonight.”

“Well, it’s an eight hour drive. We better get started, mister.”

Jake and Cath hurriedly packed their bags, checked out of the motel and hit the road. Jake did most of the driving on the way home, pressing the speed limit all the way. They pulled into the drive-through lane at MacDonald’s to grab a quick burger. Both of them couldn’t wait to get home.

During a brief interval when Cath spelled Jake behind the wheel, he called the barbershop in their hometown. In confidential tones, Jake shared his plan with Buddy, the barber.

“Buddy says we can use his shop tonight,” he told Cath when he got off the phone. “He’s gonna leave the key on a ledge above the door. We just gotta be sure to clean up afterwards. That’s all he asks.”

“Maybe we should leave him a bottle of bourbon as a token of our appreciation.”

“That’s a great idea, Cath. I know he’s fond of Old Crow.”

It was eight o’clock and just getting dark when Jake steered the Jeep into the driveway of their cabin. “What should I wear, Jake?”

“You know that low-cut t-shirt I bought you last year?”

“The tight one that shows off my boobs?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. It think it would be best for a special occasion like this one.”

“Okay. You unload the bags while I change.”

Jake was waiting in the car with the engine running when Cath emerged from the cabin five minutes later. “Okay, mister. Take me to Buddy’s barber shop.”

Jake hit the accelerator, spinning the wheels and spraying gravel as they sped down the driveway. He glanced over at his partner and observed that she had applied lipstick, mascara and eye shadow in addition to changing into her sexy t-shirt. “You look real good, babe,” he said.

“Yeah, a girl needs to look her best when she gets her hair done,” she joked.

“I don’t want to see you cryin’ when I cut off your lovely hair. Don’t want makeup streaking down your pretty face.”

“I’ll try not to cry, but I’m not making any promises. This is gonna be pretty traumatic, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, babe. I hope you’re not gonna regret it.”

“Don’t think I will, but if I do you better buy me a nice wig to wear while my hair grows out.”

“If that’s what you need, that’s what I’ll do,” he promised.

Ten minutes late Jake parked the Jeep at the back of the barber shop. He found the key above the back door where Buddy had hidden it and unlocked the shop. He switched on the lights and Cath followed him inside.

“I’ve never been inside a barbershop, but it looks just like the pictures I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, they’re all pretty much alike. If you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all.”

“This where you want me to sit?” she said, pointing to the first of three throne-like chairs arranged along one wall.

“Any one will do. Take your pick,” Jake answered.

Cath tentatively climbed up into the first of the chairs and lowered herself into the leather seat. “There’s enough room for two of me in this chair,” she remarked.

“Buddy doesn’t get many customers as skinny as you,” Jake answered.

Cath crossed her legs and peered around the shop as Jake busied himself checking the implements arranged on a shelf behind the chair. She drummed her fingers on the chrome arm rest, nervously anticipating the haircut that would soon begin.

After what seemed like a very long wait, Jake approached with a strip of tissue in his hands. “Lift up your hair, babe, so I can wrap this around your neck.” Cath did as he commanded, then sat wearing the white collar as her lover selected a red-striped cape from a cupboard beneath the mirror. He shook the cloth open, spread it around her shoulders and fastened it snugly behind her neck.

“Not too tight, is it?” he asked.

“No, just fine,” she answered in a subdued voice.

Jake turned away for a moment, then returned with a black comb in one hand and a plastic spray bottle in the other. He stood at her side and aimed a fine mist of water at her shoulder-length locks. “What you doing, Jake?” she asked with a note of alarm.

“Getting your hair wet. It’s easier to cut when it’s damp,” he explained.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Go ahead then.”

He circled the chair, spraying as he went, and lovingly combed her saturated locks. Cath watched closely as Jake raked the comb through the silver hair, leaving fine tracks in its wake.

When every strand was perfectly straight, he exchanged the bottle for the clippers. “I’m gonna use the clippers to cut away some of the length. Most barbers would use scissors to do this, but it’ll go quicker if I do it with clippers.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” she replied softly. “No need to drag it out.”

Holding her locks in place with the comb, Jake placed the clipper blades just below Cath’s ear and slowly inserted them into the curtain of hair. She blanched as a four inch swatch of silver-gray slid down the front of the cape and come to rest in her lap. Jake proceeded with a second cut, level with the first and slowly worked his way around the chair, leaving a trail of severed hair in his wake.

One final cut on the opposite side left his partner with a simple chin-length bob. Although he had removed a lesser amount of hair than any of the previous cuts he had given her, the effect was much more dramatic. Cath’s graceful neck was now fully exposed and her center-parted locks now ended just below each cheek. Immediately, she pushed them back off her face. Jake brushed the freshly cut hair, and, even though this was just an intermediate stop on the way to a much shorter cut, checked the ends to make sure all were even.

“You know, I’ve never worn my hair this short,” she commented. “It’s an intriguing look.”

“I can leave it this length if you want,” Jake offered.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m eager to see how I’ll look with a seriously short haircut,” she replied.

“Well, the next cut will be a good bit shorter than this.”

“Let’s get on with it then,” she insisted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed.

Jake selected one of the attachments scattered on the shelf, slipped it over the blades and started the clippers again. “Bend your head down so I can clip the back,” he ordered and she complied.

The scene was similar to the one twenty-four hours earlier when Cath had clipped Jake, only this time he was using a number six guide that left her hair noticeably longer than his close-to-the-scalp pelt. She kept her eyes closed, but not out of fear. She seemed to be concentrating on the unfamiliar sensations that were flooding her consciousness as her lover removed several more inches of her silver-gray mane. If he had the power of x-ray vision, he might have looked beneath the striped cape she wore and seen her right hand discreetly reaching between her legs massaging her clit.

When Jake finished the back he paused and said, “I’d like you to feel where I just cut your hair. Tell me what you think.”

Cath raised her left hand and tentatively explored the region Jake had just finished clipping. “Wow! It certainly is short,” she exclaimed.

“Not too short is it?” he asked anxiously.

“No, it’s fine, Jake. It’s just kind of a shock that I’m actually letting you do this.”

“So it’s okay if I cut the sides to the same length?”

“Yes, that would be fine. Go ahead.”

Now Cath was able to watch in the mirror as Jake placed the clippers next to her ear and drove them into the hair covering her temple. His repeated upward thrusts soon reduced her locks to a brief three-quarters of an inch. He buzzed around her ear until the side matched the already shortened back. Silently, he moved around the chair to the other side and repeated his shearing until Cath’s head resembled a shaggy mushroom with longer hair hanging from the crown above the abbreviated base.

“You’re not going to leave me looking like this, are you?” Cath asked when Jake paused in his cutting.

“Why? You don’t like this look?” he teased.

“If you leave my hair at this length, I’ll take your clippers and finish the job myself,” she threatened.

“Relax, babe. I would never do that. I’m just preparing for the next stage,” he explained. “I’m just going back to using the scissors on this stage.

“Okay. So why don’t you get on with it?”

Jake smiled to himself. Cath had seemed rather uncertain and hesitant before he started cutting her hair. Although she said she was willing to let him cut her hair into the short style he desired, he could tell she had mixed emotions about this extreme makeover. He couldn’t be sure whether she was doing this to please him or if this haircut was something she truly wanted. But as he applied the clippers to the back and sides of her head, he noticed a change in her outlook. She was smiling. The grim, determined look she wore at the beginning was changing.

First it was a barely perceptible smirk, and then a broad, genuine grin emerged. Cath was actually enjoying having her hair cut to this brief length. This was something he never anticipated, an unexpected bonus that justified his patient coaxing to convince her to change.

Jake seized the scissors from the shelf and ran his fingers through the damp hair on Cath’s crown. He closed his fingers around a five-inch strand, deliberately snipped off everything above his knuckles and casually dropped the silver-gray lock onto the growing pile at his feet. He continued, methodically shearing the top of her head until her once-luxurious mane was reduced to a crop of abbreviated inch-long tufts sticking out above her scalp.

Cath studied the disorderly mess that now decorated her head. It was a far cry from the neat bob she had worn just fifteen minutes earlier, yet she did not seem to be dismayed. In fact, a smile she could not suppress revealed that she was enjoying the experience. Jake, however, concentrated on the task at hand, seemingly ignorant of his partner’s reaction. He picked up a brush and began pushing Cath’s hair back off her face, forcing her shortened hair to stand erect. For the first time she began to get an idea what the finished haircut would look like.

“Interesting,” was the single word she used to sum up her reaction. After four decades as a long-haired woman Cath was amazed at her willingness to be shorn without a word of protest. How strange it was that she was allowing him to clip her hair even shorter.

Was her love for Jake the motivating force behind her voluntary submission to his desire? Not really, Cath decided. Yes, Jake had a thing for short-haired women, but she was confident that he wouldn’t love her less if she had refused to go along with his proposal. She was happy to please him, and she had no doubt the sex afterwards would be fantastic, but she was discovering a hidden part of her psyche that was activated by indulging in a risqué venture like this. For too long she had been in a rut, a comfortable rut, to be sure, but one with boring regularity. She loved her job; she was born to be a teacher, she was sure of that. But every year the routine was the same—classes beginning the day after Labor Day, getting to know her new pupils, their strengths and flaws, two weeks off for Christmas and the New Year, preparing for the end-of-year exams, then celebrating when summer vacation finally rolled around.

She silently resolved this would be her final year of teaching. She would submit her resignation to the principal Monday morning. She wanted to explore other options. Painting was a creative outlet she wanted to develop and she would devote more of her free time to writing poetry. She would embark on retirement as a liberated short-haired woman.

Her reverie was interrupted by a question from Jake. “What do you think, babe? You ready to go shorter?”

“Yeah. I think you should continue. I like what you’ve done so far, but I know you’d like do more. I’m curious to see what your final vision for me will look like.”

“I think you’re gonna like it, babe. Hold on tight as we head toward the finish line.”

Jake turned the chair around so she could no longer watch the progress of her haircut in the large mirror on the wall. “I want the final result to be a surprise,” he explained.

Cath heard Jake switch on the power to the clippers once again. She felt the blades contacting her hair. The buzzing of the clippers deepened as they chewed off half an inch. She did not see the black comb Jake inserted horizontally into her hair so tufts of gray sprouted up between its teeth.

“You’ve got to sit perfectly still,” he cautioned, “otherwise this cut will be ruined.” She closed her eyes and held her breath as she felt the blades cropping what remained of her already shortened hair. She gripped the arms of the chair to keep her hands from trembling as mixed sensations of fear and delight surged through her slender body. Cath kept her eyes firmly shut as Jake gradually moved his comb and clippers toward her forehead. Her nervousness increased as she realized that Jake was clipping her hair far shorter than she had anticipated. Of course, she realized it was too late to stop him in this middle of this sensitive operation. She had no choice but to hang on and hope for the best.

Jake continued mowing the remaining hair on top of Cath’s head. She could tell that he was making gradually and smaller adjustments to the length. “There must be very little hair left to cut,” she thought. “I never should have given him permission to cut it the way he wanted.”

Finally, he stopped. After long silence Jake asked, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” she asked.

“Ready to see the sensational new Cath?”

“Please, Jake, don’t keep me waiting any longer,” she pleaded.

“Okay. Here goes,” he announced. “Close your eyes.”

Cath did as he ordered. Jake took the cape from around her neck and removed the tissue from her neck. “Okay. Now you can look,” he declared grandly.

Cath opened her eyes, stared into the mirror, turned her head from side to side, and slowly ran her hands through the radically shortened hair on the top of her head.

Jake watched as tears ran down her cheeks. “You don’t like it,” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, Cath.”

“Don’t be sorry, Jake. I love my new haircut. It’s wonderful! I don’t know why I waited so long to let you do this. In two weeks I’ll be retired and this is the perfect way to begin this new stage of my life.”

She rose from the chair, brushed a few silver-gray clippings from her shirt, and threw her arms around Jake’s neck. “It’s perfect, darling,” she exclaimed. “Let’s go home and make love.”