Sometimes, Life is Stranger Than Fiction

Sometimes, Life is Stranger Than Fiction

(My Absence Explained)

 

By Shorngirl

 

Prologue

 

         It had been over a year since she had walked out of my life. It hadn’t been an ugly split, and she had been generous. Being a moderately successful author still didn’t pay the bills, so she left me the house and an annual income that would be sufficient to keep me in it.

         So… that’s what happened. I stayed in the house, straying into town for groceries now again, I sort of let myself go. My normally neatly coifed hairstyle grew in, until it hung around my shoulders. Not the woman I used to be.

         One thing I can say is that misery can often be the arbiter of creativity. Such was the case with me. In the span of six months, I rattled off two books, (a record for me, I might add) one of which actually made it to best sellers list.

         The thing is, I was bored. The days started to meld into one another. With the outside world falling to pieces, at least in the US where I lived, it was difficult to feel at peace.

         I’m not from there, you know, the US that is. I hail from a small town southwest of Cheltenham, in the UK. Painswick is the epitome of a quaint Cotswold village, with its yellow stone houses and winding lanes. It even had the quintessential church yard, famous for its sculpted yews.

         So, as I sent off the final draft of my latest book, I decided I’d had enough of the madness, and booked a flight back home. Little did I know how influential that trip was going to be.

Heathrow, London, and the Journey Home

 

         It had been years since I’d used it, and that iteration hadn’t been used at all, my passport, I mean. As I approached the kiosk, I dug out my British one, leaving the other in its place and out of sight. I was only a little perturbed when the automated unit directed me to an actual human. There’s nothing nonchalant about going through customs, and it aways made me a little jumpy.

The woman looked at my passport and then back at me. “It’s the hair, Ms. Hoskins. I’m afraid it was enough to trigger a closer look at you.” She looked down at my bags. “Nothing to declare?”

I shook my head. “No, nothing.”

“All good then.” Smiling, she handed the booklet back to me. “Welcome home, Claire.”

I returned the smile and thanked her. ‘Welcome home?’ I thought about it for a second. Yes, I suppose it was… home, that is.

The US had started feeling less and less like the place I remembered it being when I had arrived all those years ago. Of course, the UK is no picnic either, politically, but at least they didn’t have a malignant narcissist at the helm. (My apologies to anyone of that persuasion, but for fuck’s sake!)

Anyway, I made my way to rentals, and picked up the Ford Puma that I’d reserved.  After stashing my bags in the back, I promptly climbed in on the left side of the car, realizing that I was truly back in blighty.

I’m not going to go into the shenanigans that transpired as I retrained my brain to KEEP LEFT. Omg. Let’s just say I was lucky and emerged unscathed. Wisely, I thought, I avoided the M4 but soon decided that the A40 probably wasn’t any better. Eventually, my nerves settled, and I began to feel at least somewhat acclimated.

By the time I was driving through Charlton Kings on the outskirts of Cheltenham I was feeling almost like a pro. Then I promptly went the wrong way through a roundabout, to a cacophony of horns and one sharp comment from a man with his window down, calling me a ‘daft tart’. One moment of complacency and… well, nothing bad happened at least.

 Cheltenham was nothing like I remembered it being, to the point I had a hard time navigating through it. Eventually, however, I managed to get on the right road south to my hometown of Painswick.

Where I was staying was a little naughty, pricewise, but then, I was on vacation, sort of. The Painswick Hotel, which I remembered being called the Gwynfa House when I was little, was a small but lavishly appointed place right in the middle of the village. It was walking distance to everywhere.

There was an ulterior motive to my visit to England, I had to admit. If I was there, I was going to look at houses. I had nothing tying me down to America anymore, and I missed the history and the beauty of the Cotswolds.

Jet lagged; I spent the first day just being lazy. There was a small public house just up the street, and they served a nice ploughman’s lunch along with some tasty ales, which were not at room temperature, btw.

Afterward, I found my way to the church and the magnificent yews. They really were very cool indeed and just as large and imposing as I remembered them being as a child.

The Hair Had to Go

All this time, I’d been doing battle with my hair. Combing it back, tying it back, and eventually just giving up and allowing to fall in my face. Something had to be done. The next day, I decided that I would make my way in Cheltenham and find someone to cut it. It was well past time.

I settled on a small barber type place just off the high street. I couldn’t help but think back on all the short stories I’d written about this very thing, and I chuckled at the idea of being one of my characters, subdued and shorn against her will.

As I walked through the doors, I was surprised to find a woman, clipping away at an older gentleman’s greying hair. She was quite attractive and had her jet-black hair trimmed into a man’s style, not ultra-short, but neat and tidy.

“Have a seat, and I’ll be just a moment.” She insisted, as I cleared a copy of the Sun away from one of the two available chairs. I watched, intently, as she deftly styled the man’s hair. After a few minutes, he rose from the chair and slipped her a few notes from his pocket.

It was at that moment that I realized I didn’t have a spot of cash on me. Everything I’d done until then, I’d used my card, and I worried she may not accept it. As she motioned for me to climb into her chair, I was forced to ask.

“Can you take a card? I haven’t had a chance to get any cash.” I admitted, embarrassingly.

“You’re American, then?” She asked, frowning.

“Actually, I’m British. I just live over there. For now, at least.” I followed under my breath.

“Well, you sound like a yank to me. And it’s cash only.” She smiled, ruefully. “There is a cashpoint at the Tesco a few shops down the high street.”

“Can you wait for me to get back?” I asked.

“I’m not going anywhere, at least until five.”

I slipped out of the shop and hurried around the corner. The high street was closed to traffic, and it seemed like an odd spot for a Tesco, but there it was, just as she said. I was a little annoyed about the service charge, but I took out two hundred pounds anyway, and made my way back to the shop.

Of course, by the time I got back there, there was someone else in the chair. The woman raised an eyebrow, cracking a crooked smile and directed me back into the chair with her eyes. I couldn’t help but draw parallels to my stories of an overbearing barber having his way with his victim.

I supposed I had better come up at least an idea of what I wanted to have done, before she asked, if she asked. Stop it Claire, this isn’t a story, she’s going to ask, for heaven’s sake. My inner monologue was running rampant. By the time she was calling me up, I was feeling more than a bit frisky.

As she wrapped me in the cape, cinching the paper strip tight around my neck, I allowed my hair to fall back on my shoulders. “You know, I don’t believe for a minute that you’re British. I’m not all that fond of American’s, to be fair.”

I reached out from under the cape and grabbed my bag from her counter and pulled out my passport. She snatched it, almost greedily, opening it to the front page and examined my photo. I couldn’t believe I was having to prove who I was to a barber. Then again, it fit perfectly if I was… ‘Stop it, Claire!’ I mouthed, sotto voce.

“Everything alright?” She asked, as she carefully tucked my papers back into my bag before placing it just out of reach on the counter. Seriously? “So, I was wrong. Sorry about that.” She looked me up and down, settling on my hair. “Is that how you want it cut?”

“How’s that?” I asked, stupidly.

“Like your photo… your passport?” She pressed, as if speaking to a child.

I had to think for a minute just how I had my hair when that photo was taken, but I did remember it being very short. After a moment, she seemed to need to remind me. “Short back and sides, a little spiky on top?”

“That will be fine, yes.” I managed. I hadn’t imagined having it that short, but at least I’d look like my passport picture.

“Ready for change, then?” She grinned, snapping her scissors playfully.

Nodding, I was feeling as if I was floating a few inches off the chair. I hadn’t been this aroused getting a haircut in months, maybe years. She seemed to enjoy lopping off long hanks of my hair, catching her enthusiasm in the mirror as I watched her dispatch my lingering locks.

“I love doing this, you know.” She finally admitted.

“Cutting hair?” I asked. “I hope you do.”

“No, I mean to a woman. You know, going from all soft and pretty, to, well, never mind.” She sighed, realizing she may have crossed some line.

“Go on.” I insisted, loving how she’d succeeded in making me wet.

“Let’s put it this way. I know how I feel when I have my hair cut, and I wonder if other women feel the same… you know… a little randy.” She’d managed to rid me of most of my hair, the remainder a choppy mess that desperately needed tending to.

This had to be the strangest conversation I had ever had in a barber shop, but I was more than happy to have it with her. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve had a fetish for haircutting most of my life.” I bashfully admitted.

I saw her expression change from inquisitive to determined. “Well, then. Let’s have a little fun with it, Claire.” She giggled. I watched as she lifted a set of clippers from the counter and put a large guard on them. “I’ve aways wanted to do this.” Without asking, she flipped them on and ran them right down the middle of my head.

It was impossible to stop, an audible sigh escaping my lips as hair fell in all directions over the cape. “Jesus.” I said, reaching up to feel the pelt of half-inch stubble left in their wake. “That’s a bit shorter than we talked about, I think.”

This whole situation was quickly turning into something straight out of one of my stories, and I through I might even mention it, when she carved another path right next to the first. “You know, I write stories about this sort of thing.”

“And I suppose you post them online, for people to read?” She continued her assault with the clippers, the entire top of my head now buzzed. “Maybe you can wite a story about this, then.” She switched off the slippers and set them down. “Wait a minute, now.” She brought her finger to her lips, hiding a smile. “Claire, as in ‘Shorngirl’ Claire?”

I took a deep breath. I’d been made. “Ah… that would be me.” I nodded, again feeling the top of my head, knowing I was wincing a bit.”

“Are you really gay, or is that all made up for your readers?” She asked, reticently.

“No, not made up…um… I’m at a loss here, you know my name and…”

“Madeline, Maddy if you like.” She said excitedly. “Sorry.”

“Well, Maddy, why don’t you finish what you started here… before someone comes in and sees me like this.” I suggested.

“Isn’t that the theme, though… a little humiliation to go with your haircut?” she kidded.

So, she did read my stories. “Fiction is one thing, reality…” Of course, my luck being what it was, a young man slipped through the door mid-sentence. Apparently, life imitates art.

“Have a seat, Charlie.” She called out to him.

“What on earth are you doing to that poor woman, Maddy?” He asked, kiddingly.

“Nothing that she doesn’t deserve.” Maddy answered, and I felt my panties moisten with her remark.

“Please remind me never to end up on your naughty list.” He picked up the Sun that I had moved, ending the playful banter.

“Did that make you hot, Claire?” Maddy asked, leaning down to whisper into my exposed ear as she clipped the sides close to my scalp.

I cleared my throat, but failed to answer, giving her all the encouragement she needed. Charlie would glance up occasionally, smiling, as my haircut took shape. As Maddy blended the sides into the top, shaving my nape and around my ears, it was looking more and more like a crewcut than the short back and sides with a spiky top.

As she finished up the cut, I swear I caught a whiff of someone’s arousal, and it wasn’t my own. That scent I knew all too well. Looking at myself in the mirror, it had been a very long time since I’d had my hair that short.

“What do you think?” Maddy asked, slipping the cape away and shaking it out.

“It’s pretty short…” I mused, “… but as you said, it’s what I deserved.” I ran my fingers up the back along the barely discernible stubble.

She had an odd look on her face for a second before pulling me aside. “Do you… want to meet up later?” Maddy asked, earnestly.

“Um… sure, that would be great.” Not believing my luck. This girl was at least ten years younger than me, and she was interested. I was thrilled. She slipped a card out of her pocket and handed it to me.

“Meet me there, nine o’clock?” She whispered.

I looked at the card and was a bit daunted by the name. “Okay, Maddy. I’ll be there.” I admired my reflection one more time before stepping outside, a different woman than I’d been going in.

A Night Out

 

         The concierge did a double take and stopped me to check who I was, apparently so unrecognizable from the woman who had checked in two days before. Satisfied, but not at all approving, he allowed me to pass and get to my room.

         “Who the fuck does he think he is, anyway?” I asked myself as I unlocked the door to my suite. “It’s my hair, for Christ’s sake.”

         It was only four o’clock, so I figured I’d better get something to eat, before I head out for this meet up with, of all people, my barber. I took a quick shower and resisted the temptation to masturbate, just in case I got lucky later on. “Might as well keep the juices flowing.” I said out loud as I quickly towel dried my hair.

         There was nothing else to be done with it. Maybe in a month or so, I might get something to happen with a little gel. For now, it was a straight up buzzcut. At least the part that had persisted in the middle had gone, leaving an even crop of stubble.

         I began thinking about Maddy. She was exactly the kind of girl that would be extremely dangerous for me, considering our joint interest. I was sure she would look at me as a sort of conquest. She’d had her way with me, of that there was no doubt. Now, with her knowledge of my writing, I wondered what she might be expecting. I was sure she was having her fantasies, just as I was.

         She certainly found the right profession, considering what I assumed to be her driving fetish. Fitting, I supposed, and I wondered if she often got… carried away as she had with me. I doubted that, if she wanted to stay in business for long.

         What were the odds of my walking into what I thought was a random barbershop, only to find a connoisseur of my style of writing and a woman to boot. A million to one? Maybe my luck wasn’t all bad, after all.

         Thankfully, the guys at the pub didn’t seem to mind my new hairstyle, and I was able to eat my meal in peace, although I refrained from the ale, opting for ginger beer instead.

         The name, it was odd. Of course, I’d never heard of it, but… the name… was odd. 2 Pigs. It sat down a narrow lane off the high street near the end of the Promenade. Parking was an issue, but I eventually found a place.

         Approaching the entrance, I was a little put off by the preponderance of men gathered outside, smoking. Was this the right place? Walking past the group, I was met by a somewhat rowdy atmosphere. Music was playing, and there were indeed women other than myself inside.

         I scanned the bar for Maddy, but to my disappointment, I didn’t see her. I was thinking that I’d been stood up, when there was a tug on my arm from behind.

         “I’d recognise that head anywhere.” I turned to find my ‘date’, dressed very differently than I’d seen her earlier. She was encased in leather, and her black hair was slicked back tight to her skull. She reached over and ran her fingers over my stubbled crown and nodded for me to follow.

         An adjacent room was a bit quieter, and there were some tables and chairs. “What do you want to drink?” Maddy asked.

         “Something light. An ale, maybe?” I suggested.

         “Be right back.” She disappeared back into the larger room, so I settled into a table near the corner. Judging by the pairings, this was most definitely a gay bar. I was almost surprised that Cheltenham even had one, to be honest.

         A few moments later, Maddy reappeared, a glass in each hand. “Here you go, Claire. I’m really glad you came. I was a bit worried I’d scared you off, earlier.”

         “It’s been interesting explaining the change to the concierge at my hotel.” I chortled.

         “Where are you staying?”

         “The Painswick Hotel.” I saw her eyebrows go up.

         “Well, that’s a bit snooty. Why are you staying way out there?” She asked.

         “Um… I grew up there.” I explained.

         “Is it the same as you remember?” Maddy asked, curious.

         “It’s been a while, but yes. It’s still about the same as when I left. Cheltenham, on the other hand, is totally different.” I said, sipping my beer.

         “I guess I don’t notice the changes.” Maddy grew quiet. “I hope I haven’t caused any problems for you, cutting your, well… buzzing your head like that.”

         “Do you like it?” I asked.

         “Well, yeah, I think it’s the dog’s bollocks. Then again, I did it to you, so I would say that, wouldn’t I?” She giggled.

         I tried not to react to her description. I guess I’d been away from England for too long. “Well, if you like it, then I’m good. There’s nobody else I’m trying to impress, after all.”

         “You’re not with anyone, then?” She asked, bluntly.

         “No. I was until a year or so ago.” Pausing a moment, I wasn’t sure how personal I wanted to be. “We split up, and I’ve been by myself since then.”

         “I’ve never been properly exclusive with anyone. Most girls think I’ve lost the plot, with my… well, I’ve got a few quirks.” Maddy admitted, freely.

         “Well, Maddy, if you read what I’ve written, then you must know I have a few of my own.” I whispered to her.

         “Then it’s not all fiction then, is it?” She asked.

         “Some is, some isn’t.” I admitted, wondering just how far she might investigate my meaning.

         “You almost always write about someone submitting to someone else. Do you ever imagine yourself as one or the other?” She asked.

         I really wasn’t sure I wanted to answer that question. “I’ll put it this way, I’m never the aggressor.”

         That’s brilliant, because I’m always that person. The one shaving the girls head or having my way with her. That’s just who I am.” Maddy sighed at the end. “You’re probably going to run out of here, now, aren’t you?”

         “Do you see me running?” I asked, a smile forming on my lips. “Maybe you want to have your way… with me.”

         “I think I already have.” She laughed, eyeing my shorn head.

         “That was just hair, Maddy. You know there’s always more to my stories than that.” I couldn’t believe what I was saying. Talk about egging the girl on. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was the one running away: this woman, ten years her senior, putting the moves on.

         “Fuck. Do you want to go?” She asked, huskily. “Mine’s not far.”

         I looked down at my half-finished beer and found myself nodding. “I… yes, I do.” She grabbed my hand and practically pulled me through the bar.

         We wound through a couple of streets and down a narrow footpath of some sort before coming upon a long row of houses. Still gripping my hand, she pulled me up a small flight of steps.

         “This is me.” She said, almost out of breath. She struggled with a set of keys before finally finding the one she wanted, opening the door. I stood there for a moment, uncertain if this was a god idea, or even safe for that matter. “Come in or not, Claire. I’m chuffed and you’re a little scared, so maybe that works.”

         She was silhouetted in the doorway, waiting for me, her hand outstretched and open. Trying not to think too much, I gave her my wrist. She pulled me inside roughly, and closed the door behind me, locking it.

         There was a small sitting room that was just this side of messy, and what looked like a worn sofa under a few blankets. Catching me off guard, she pushed me into it. I wasn’t sure if it was the look I gave her, or her being surprised by how she had acted.

         “I won’t hurt you, Claire, not unless you give me permission to.” Maddy warned.

         That was a loaded statement, and I had to think clearly just then, and I was having trouble. She was hot, oh god, I wanted her. But, at the same time, I worried that she might actually be dangerous.

         “I’m running upstairs for a minute. When I come back, I’ll know if you want to me to keep at it.” I watched as she ran up the stairs, and I heard her walking with purpose up there.

         Was there something I was supposed to do? There was no way I was going allow this moment to slip by without at least exploring what might happen. I quickly began stripping out of my clothes, leaving them strewn all over the floor at my feet. I’d just managed to tear away my top as she rounded the bottom of the stairs.

         Maddy’s eyes went wide, not quite believing what I’d done. “Uh… I was thinking more along the lines of you removing your jacket, Claire.” She had changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, shedding the heavy leathers. There I was, utterly naked. “But then, I guess we have our answer then, don’t we?”

I Had Almost Forgotten

 

         “Only one other girl has been down here before, Claire. Just don’t trip out on me, alright?” Maddy warned. I honestly felt a bit like Anastasia as she unlocked the door to this room in her cellar. I could swear I’d written about this very thing at some point. Now I was living it.

         It wasn’t nearly as daunting as Christian’s red room, but there were things in there that had me breathing harder than normal. “What did the other girl think?” I couldn’t help but ask the obvious question.

         “She ran.” Maddy said. “I think her immediate reaction was to laugh, before she ran for her life. Some people laugh when they’re scared.”

         Still naked, there was no way I was running anywhere. Maddy had neatly folded my clothes and set them somewhere, and probably out of sight too. “Are you going to tie me up?” I asked.

         “Do you want me to tie you up, Claire?” There was a St. Andrews Cross in the middle of the room that seemed to be calling to me. I walked over to it and seductively laid myself open on it for her. “You’re begging for it.” I didn’t answer, but I didn’t move either.

         A few minutes later, I was securely fastened, Maddy leaning against the wall behind her, admiring me. “How old are you, Claire?”

         It was a question I had been dreading but expecting at the same time. Now she’d find out that I was far and away too old for her, and all this would evaporate as quickly as it had materialized. “I’m fifty, Maddy.” I watched her reaction closely, but she seemed not to react at all.

         “Thirty-eight.” She finally admitted. A little younger than I thought, but not by much. “You’re magnificent, Claire. I would never have guessed.”

         It was strange having a conversation as serious as this while tied up to a cross, almost surreal. “Is that going to be a problem?”

         “Not for me, but then, we really don’t know where this is even going.” Her face fell. “I imagine you’ll be tottering back across the pond before too long.”

         She wasn’t wrong, but perhaps it wasn’t forever, or even for that long. “One of the reasons I’m here is to look for a house.”

         “You’re finished with the states, then?” She asked, hopefully.

         “I think… yes.” Stammering a little. “This is weird, Maddy.”

         “What’s weird?”

         “Being tied up like this and having a serious conversation.” I said, half laughing.

         “I find it very… stimulating.” She mused. “Would you prefer I hit you with something?” We both laughed then. “Look, just the fact that you let me do this to you, says so much, Claire.” She walked up to me, her clothed body pressing against my naked one and kissed me deeply.

         I hadn’t kissed by anyone in so long I’d forgotten how it felt, or how to react. All I knew was it felt good, and I wanted more. Only then did she lift a crop from the rack.

         I’d never felt so dominated in all my life, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Maddy truly was the antagonist to all my submissive characters I’d written about so many times. In a way, it frightened me, because I knew all too well that the submissive often ended up being left different. Was that what I wanted.

         After our session in her little basement dungeon, we relaxed upstairs over a drink. “I still can’t believe I have you in my sitting room, Claire. If you knew how many times your stories had me rubbing one out, and right where you’re sitting mind you.”

         Still naked, except for a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I imagined Maddy sitting there, while she masturbated over something I’d created. “I want to please you Maddy, with my mouth.” I sighed. “Hell, I’ve yet to see you in the altogether.” She still sported the jeans and the plain white tee she’d come down in.

         “I came so close, you know, just having at you downstairs.” Maddy admitted.

         I slipped the blanket off and sank to my knees before her. Obliging me, she slipped the worn pair of jeans down her legs, allowing then to dangle from one ankle. She’d gone commando, and her hairless cunt was glistening with her juices.

         Her scent was strong but earthy as I settled in, wrapping my lips around her and allowing my tongue to sweep between her folds. “Fuck me!” She growled, as she thrust her hips upwards, grabbing my stubbled head and pressed me firmly into her crotch.

         It didn’t take very long, or very much effort on my behalf to being to orgasm. She was more than ready, and it thrilled me to hold her on that precipice for another, and then another, before she finally stopped me by pushing me away. “You’ll kill me, I swear.”

         “I take it you enjoyed that, Mis…” and I almost said it. Nothing had been discussed about anything like that. “Maddy.”

         “You can call me that, if it tickles you.” She mused, a smile crossing her face.

         “Thank you, Mistress.” I said, averting my eyes. Too many plot lines running through my head, but there was no denying I was playing out one of my stories to the letter. The dominant barber, the afterhours meetup and then the BDSM seduction, it was almost too contrived. The only thing was, this was as real as it gets.

Decisions

 

         I stood, staring at myself in the full-length mirror that graced the back of the bathroom door. Fresh out of the shower, the reddened patches and slashes that peppered my torso stood out clearly. There was nothing that could be called a welt, and certainly no broken skin, but my submission to Maddy was more than evident.

         Maddy had been happy to lead me back to my car, which was still there after a night in public parking. She was off to work, and I had some serious thinking to do. I’d slept in her bed, and the company of a woman beside me made for a comfortable night’s sleep. I’d forgotten how that felt: a warm body pressed against me.

         It was a long drive back to Painswick. Not physically, but mentally, because everything that happened weighed heavily. I had made up my mind through. I wasn’t going languish in a country where I didn’t belong. I made a few calls, including to my attorney in New York, to let him know of my plans.

         Regardless of how things went between Maddy and I, I knew that change was in the works. I spent the next few days exploring by myself, seeing the sights and confirming my plans.

         In the evening, I would meet Maddy for supper and a few drinks, before ending up back at her place. The little sessions in her ‘playroom’ became more adventurous, and I found myself becoming quite attached to her, and her to me.

         I continued to refer to her as my Mistress, even though she insisted it wasn’t necessary. We had a more serious discussion about my age, and whether she was cool with me being twelve years her senior. She said age is just a number, and that I needed to stop worrying about it.

         I did tell her my plans, which she was pleased to hear. A few days before she had made a comment that affected me more than I’d like to say. “No sense getting all attached to you, only to have to leave forever, is there?” There were a few moments of quiet after that, but I nodded, agreeing with her. It hadn’t made my mind up for me, but it certainly nudged me in the right direction.

         The realtor I’d arranged, had been showing me properties, but nothing had impressed. Most of them were fairly new builds, and that was not what I wanted. Finally, two days before I had to leave, she hit the mark.

         The first two houses were too small and not very attractive, being more modern than I was hoping for. “You mentioned something about a cottage.”

         “Yes, I was saving that one for last. It is a bit beyond your range, but you did say you were willing.” She mused, opening the door for me, as she was driving.

         “Can we see that one now?” I asked, not impatiently, but I think I was conveying my desire to see the best she was offering.

         She looked at her watch. “I suppose that would be fine. You’re going to fall in love.” She sighed, as she put the car in gear.

         We drove through Cheltenham and out the other side, following along under the Cleeve Hill bluffs until we arrived in Winchcombe. I remembered the village from my childhood, when we had visited Sudeley Castle. It was the very essence of Cotswold charm. “This is as beautiful as I remember it being.”

         “We’re a little out of the town, but certainly walking distance.” She pulled up along a lane, just shy of an opening in a laid stone wall, the tall hedgerows blocking any view. “Are you ready to be impressed?” She asked.

         I remained mute for the time being, nodding my head as she led the way. A reasonably long drive led up to the cutest cottage I think I’d ever seen. It wasn’t thatched or anything, but it was constructed with those same Cotswold stones that made it seem very old.

         “The cottage dates from the seventeenth century and is grade II listed.” The realtor informed me as we stepped inside. It was everything I had hoped for. White plaster walls and exposed beams, the works. It was full of nooks and crannies and everything that made a cottage cosy. It was perfect.

         “This is it.” I said, excitedly.

         “Are you sure. It is £50,000 over your budget.” She warned.

         “I don’t care. I’ll make it work.” I exclaimed.

         I won’t bore you with the legalities, but my offer was accepted on contingency of sale, and I was moving to the UK! I contacted my lawyer and set everything in motion.

         Maddy gave me a wink as I stepped into her shop, making short work of a schoolboy who obviously liked his hair buzzed close. “I don’t want to hear from your mum that it’s too short.” She warned as he headed out the door, leaving the two of us alone.

         “Hey there.” I said, nervous with the news.

         “How did it go with the realtor?” Maddy asked, neatly folding the cape over the back of the chair.

         “I put in an offer.” I grinned, “and they accepted.” I gushed.

         “So, I suppose you’ll be moving here, then?” She kidded, walking over to plant a kiss on my lips. “Congrats on the house. Where?”

         “Winchcombe. It’s a bit north of…”

         “I know where Winchcombe is, you sausage.” We both laughed.

         “My attorney back in the US is handling all the details, but as soon as I sell my place, the deal is sealed. Wait ‘til you see it.”

         My leaving had been weighing on us both, but the fact there was more to the story now, lifted both our hearts.

         “I’m closing up. I think we need to celebrate, or something.” Maddy laughed.

         I’d parked a few doors down from her shop, what was normally impossible, so we made our way to my rental. “Shall I show it to you?” I asked.

         “What are you, barking? You better do.” Maddy insisted, so we headed north on the Prestbury Road. She had commandeered my phone to peruse the photos I had taken of the cottage. “Jesus, Claire. What are you, a trust fund baby or something?”

         “Let’s just say that my ex was… very generous when we split.” I admitted, calmly.

         As we approached the cottage, I warned her that we couldn’t really wander about or anything, even though the place was vacant. That didn’t stop her from having a good look.

         “You know, not a soul will hear you scream all the way out here. I can have my way with you, and nowt would be the wiser.” Maddy winked.

         “Maybe that’s why I bought it.” We both stared at each other for a moment before breaking out in laughter.

         We did celebrate that night, eating supper at Petit Coco, which Maddy said was too posh even for me, and then headed back to 2 Pigs, where we had one too many drinks.

         Wisely, I’d parked my car back at Maddy’s, because there was no way I could drive. She was leading the way, and to my surprise, we ended up back at her shop. “Did you forget something?” I asked.

         “No, I didn’t.” She opened the door and had me step into the darkened room. “I’m going to give you something to take with you, Claire.”

         As drunk as I was, I knew instantly what she was up to. “Madeline, are you sure this is a good idea?”

         “Madeline? What happened to ‘Mistress’?” She growled, mischievously.

         “Sorry… Mistress.” I apologized, with a giggle. “You know, I’ve just had a haircut.”

         “I’m sorry, Claire, but that haircut has expired. I will need to issue a replacement.” Maddy ordered, with authority. Then, shockingly, she began to undress me.

         “Maddy, people can see in here.” I complained.

         “The light is off, no one is going to look in.” She reasoned.

         “I can see you; you can see me. That streetlight is pretty bright out there.” I panicked, as she lifted my top off, exposing my breasts.

         “Shhh.” She placed her finger over my lips. “Trust me.”

         And so, I did. A piece at a time I allowed her to strip me, until I stood there in her shop, just off the high street, naked. All that was missing were a bunch of rowdy guys for it to be right out of my erotic imagination. Maddy spun the chair so it faced me, and held out the cape like a matador, jiggling it.

         “Please don’t shave it, Maddy, I’ve got to get through customs. You don’t want me to end up in some facility somewhere, do you?” I fretted.

         “I’m not going to shave you bald, as much as I’d like to.” Maddy giggled. “All bets are off when you get back though.”

         So, she turned me to face the window, flipped on her clippers, and cut me in the darkened room. As she worked, I was powerless to stop myself from masturbating. The vibrations from the humming blades made me so wet that my fingers slipped right inside.

         “That’s the Claire that I’ve read for so long. Don’t hold back, now, give everyone a good show.” I instantly looked up at the window, but there was nobody there. At one point a couple walked down the opposite side of the street, but as Maddy had assured me, they never looked. That little risk had pressed me into a wave of pleasure, as she trimmed up the top, the guarded clippers taking me back to an acceptable length.

         “Oh, my God, Maddy. You’re dangerous, do you know that?” I sighed, as she kissed me over the top of my freshly coifed scalp.

         “I’ll shave you when we get back to mine. A little risky in the dark.”

Epilogue

 

 

         It’s been two months since I took possession of my Cotswold cottage. As I sit at my computer finishing this glimpse into my life, spring has taken a firm hold outside my window. I’m no longer living out of boxes, even though nearly half my things are still stuck at a dock in Southampton.

         The six weeks apart hadn’t dampened anything between Maddy and I, and she’s probably just finishing work as I type this epilogue. We’re not full on just yet, and as such, I’ve insisted that she hang onto hers a tad longer. Things are headed that way, though, and she rarely spends a night in town.

         Maddy did make good on her promise though. The second night I was back, she took a straight razor to my overgrown crop. I’d made good on my own promise to her, not to cut it ‘til I returned. Tied securely to a padded bench in ‘the dungeon’, I gladly submitted to the tonsuring.

         I don’t know whether some people might consider what we’re doing a bit childish or naïve, but we’re happy, and that’s all that matters. One thing is for certain, however: it’s wonderful to be home.

To anyone who made it this far, and I do know this was a bit long winded, I thank you for your continued readership. I know it wasn’t a particularly erotic tale, but it so hinged around this site, that I felt I had to write it down; and in doing so, share it with all of you. Claire