The Party

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Parties at model houses were always an interesting mix of good and terrible times. The good part, Emily found, was that there were plenty of attractive people to watch, as expected. The bad part was the beating her self esteem always took whenever her boyfriend Donald dragged her to one of these things.

An Ohio ten, one might call her, and who knew what that translated to in the modeling industry. She’d never consider herself a complete loss — she wasn’t that delusional — but when in the same room as women and men who made their living dressed in little more than someone else’s undies, it was hard to feel great about herself. And frankly, aside from her boyfriend, few guys or girls were paying attention to her here. Hell, maybe that should have included her boyfriend as well.

Sighing softly, she nestled back into the frumpy couch she sat on against Donald, his carved-from-marble physique unyielding and somewhat uncomfortable even with his arm looped over her shoulders. The wasn’t sure who owned the old Victorian house, but they had managed to cram an impressive number of people into it, with another good number clustered outside on the wraparound porch waiting to ring in the new year. 

As she was people-watching, one woman cutting through the crowd caught her eye — or, more specifically, the woman’s hair did. Or, even more specifically, the near complete lack of it. Tall and statuesque, as ninety percent of party attendees were, she carried herself with regal elegance. Her body was long and slender, though her features were sharp and pixie-like. And much like the small, black dress she wore barely hid her body, her short, brown stubble of hair did little to hide her scalp. Almost like a miniature mohawk, the barest hint of hair rose close to her forehead, sticking up maybe half an inch or so, but from there toward the back and sides it was reduced to little more than a dusting. And with her perfect ears, elegant throat, and beautiful eyes, all of those details worked together in perfect harmony to create a crewcut Aphrodite. Barely any men at the party had their hair that short, much less other women.

Emily was struck breathless as the woman walked past, to the point Donald actually noticed her silence. 

“Did you see that girl without any hair? She was gorgeous.”

He made a noncommittal sound, his attention already drifting back to his friends.

“Do you think I could pull that off?” Emily teased.

His attention snapped back to her, his eyes darting to the impressive fall of straight, jet black hair that fell over her left shoulder and almost into her lap. Half of it was tied up with a blue ribbon at her crown, the color playing well with the subtle blue glaze treatment she’d had done a few weeks ago. Then he looked to her thick, blunt cut bangs, a style that perhaps wasn’t completely in fashion but she felt complemented her sky blue eyes perfectly. 

“Why the fuck would you even ask that?

Emily blinked at the harshness of his words.

“What do you—“

“No. Just no,” he said. “Your hair is your best feature. Don’t even think of cutting it. You do that, and we’re done, you understand? I look good for you; I expect you to look good for me.”

She scoffed and stood up.

“Where are you going?” He asked, as if he had any right to be annoyed at her.

“Bathroom,” she muttered. Maybe she had to go, maybe she didn’t, but it was someplace else to be that wasn’t near him. 

Heading to the fancy, antique curving stairway, Emily made her way up the stairs and dragged her hand along the polished bannister, imagining how fun it would be to slide down it as a kid. Once she reached the bathroom, she was greeted by a locked door and a small line, so she slowly started wandering toward its end. Curiosity forced her to peek into the various bedrooms she passed, and she wound up stepping into one with a huge oak dresser and mirror combination. 

A dim lamp provided the only light in the room, casting long shadows from the pile of sheets on the bed and the collected bottles of perfume and collections of makeup on the dresser. Emily smiled at her reflection, noting how despite the dimness of the light it shone brightly off of her hair, a fine byproduct of the glazing she’d had done. And the blue tint that shine held kept it from being too boring, she felt, without taking away any of the silky softness she loved about her long locks.

Glancing toward the hall, she figured she had a bit of time before the bathroom freed up, so she pulled the ribbon from her hair and let all of her thick locks fall free. She loved the contrast of her short, heavy bangs and the rest of the bulk’s singular length, creating almost as much contrast between the length as there was between the color of her eyes and her magnificent locks.  

Swinging the inky mass back and forth, she reveled in the gentle feel of her hair’s weight against her scalp, but also in how it looked moving through the air, so dark in color that it almost seemed like one mass, rather than individual locks and tresses. 

After running her hands back through its length again, she carefully gathered it into a ponytail near her crown, trying not to argue with herself that despite Donald’s words she would look good with short hair. As she finished tying the ribbon that would hold her impressive ponytail in place, she noticed the dim lights reflecting off something harsher among the makeup and perfumes in front of her. 

She picked up the pair of clippers there, turning them this way and that until her thumb pushed against a switch on the side. With a loud pop, they came to life, humming quietly in her hand while sending curiously pleasant vibrations up the length of her arm.

“Hello?”

Emily yelped and nearly dropped the clippers, quickly turning them off before looking toward the doorway. There, in silhouette, was the crewcut Aphrodite, unknowingly stealing any words in Emily’s throat before she could say them.

“Can I help you?”

“Sorry,” Emily said. “I was waiting for the bathroom and wound up in here to fix my hair.” She motioned toward the other woman with the clippers. “Not something you have to worry about much, I assume?”

To Emily’s relief, the woman laughed. “No, I wouldn’t say so.” She stepped forward, holding out her hand. “I’m Amanda.”

Emily switched the clippers to her left hand, and then introduced herself. WhenAmanda glanced toward them, Emily finally realized she hadn’t put them down for some reason.

“I guess these are yours?” She asked, knowing how stupid it sounded but asking it anyway.

Amanda nodded, and ran her hand back over her clippered head. “Is it that obvious?” She asked with a grin. “Is that your first time holding a pair?”

It was Emily’s turn to nod. “I hadn’t expected them to turn on. I never realized they vibrated when working.” An awkward pause filled the room, so Emily continued on, “So do you use these yourself? On yourself? By yourself, I mean? You don’t have someone else do it.”

“Before shoots someone else does it, but if I just want to tidy up before a date or party, like tonight, I’ll do it myself.”

Emily glanced at the clippers and then smiled. “That’s gotta feel kind of neat, with the way they hum.”

Amanda looked at Emily’s ponytail, and then at the clippers, and then to her eyes with a raised eyebrow. “You want to try and see?”

Emily blinked. “What? No — no, I couldn’t.”

Amanda laughed. “I don’t mean all of it.” She stepped behind Emily and reached up to tug the ribbon free, taking the thick fall of hair in her hands as the ribbon fell to the floor. “You have a shit-ton of hair. We could do a really small undercut just so you get a feel and no one would even notice.”

Emily closed her eyes and fought down a purr as Amanda’s fingers moved through and around her hair, simultaneously pulling what felt like a decent portion free and piling the rest atop Emily’s head. 

“Here,” Amanda said. “Hold all of this up.”

Dutifully, Emily yielded the clippers to Amanda and used both of her hands to hold the bulk of her hair in place at her crown. Tremors of excitement rocketed through her, even though she was pretty certain she had told Amanda she didn’t want to feel the clippers. 

A gentle caress of a finger brushed against the middle of Emily’s left ear, and she had to bite back a nervous purr. “I’m just going to take it up to here. It’ll be cute.”

Emily’s reaching and heartbeat quickened as her hands gripped the hair she was holding up even tighter. She knew she should say something, that she should tell Amanda not to do anything, but the sound of the clippers popping to life again muted her. Then there was the brush of Amanda’s perfect fingers against her nape as the other woman listen the blanket of hair that had been pulled free, and then the cool touch of plastic against Emily’s nape.

With a quiet hum, the clippers slid upward, their tone changing drastically once they met Emily’s hairline and began to hungrily chew through her beloved locks. Emily’s quickened breaths suddenly froze, the focus of her entire being on the nibbling rumble of the clippers as they sheared away the impressive length of her beautiful hair. It set like they moved upward forever, but, true to her word, Amanda pulled them away once they emerged from the loose section of Emily’s tresses at the mid-height of her ear. 

There was a brief pause as the clippers continued to hum, and then the sensation of plastic against skin reemerged just a bit to the right of where it had been. Again, the clippers rumbled and nibbled, and then again, and again. Soon, the clippers were just moving this way and that, and then they went quiet. 

Her hands still on her head, Emily watched Amanda set a collection of raven locks down on her dresser, the lengths folding in on one another into something of a pool atop the oak wood. Amanda’s left hand replaced Emily’s right to help hold her wealth of hair in place on the crown of her head, and then her right hand guided Emily’s to the newly formed patch of clippered fuzz. 

Emily gasped, feeling the eighth of an inch of hair that remained where much longer locks had resided just a few minutes before. 

“Oh my gosh…”

“Right? Doesn’t it feel awesome?”

Emily smiled, and shyly nodded as her fingertips, independent of any command, continued to explore her newly revealed nape. It was like the softest velvet she’d ever felt, and she couldn’t believe it was on her own head.

“Do you want to feel it again?”

Emily hesitated, not having a chance to answer before Amanda took charge. She nudged Emily’s remaining hand from the locks that had been held in place. After running her fingers through the free falling tresses, she gathered another thick twist up and imprisoned it under Emily’s hands again. 

The weight of what remained free felt so much more signifiant than the section that had just been clippered away. “How… how much…?” She asked with a shaky voice.

“About another inch higher. It’s gonna look awesome.”

Emily’s reflection stood in testament to how wide her eyes were, looking even brighter and bigger than usual under her thick bangs. “Oh god,” she whispered softly, the words drowned out by the clippers again. In her peripheral view, she could see silhouettes coming and going from the doorway, small gasps of shock piercing the air as Amanda lifted away the thick blanket of silky locks she’d just released and set the clippers on them.

Emily forced her eyes closed and barely muffled a moaning gasp as the nibbling teeth of the clippers moved up the center of her nape, attacking and shearing away the hair up toward the curve of her skull. Her entire body felt the vibrations as if they were tiny electric shocks coursing through her. And her suddenly slow, heavy breathing carried an unexpected purr of her own in time with the changing intensity of the clippers roar.

More and more of the loose weight that had been released was falling away, and each time Emily peeked open her eyes, Amanda seemed to be dropping another hank of gorgeous locks onto the dresser. Again and again the clippers moved further away from the center of Emily’s nape, first on the right side, then on the left, and then on the right again and on and on until Emily was certain nothing of any notable length remained. 

Again, the clippers retread the path they had already blazed, making sure everything was neat and tidy. Then they stopped, but instead of turning off and being pulled away, they sat in the middle of Emily’s nape, just under the sweep and thick, silky locks that were being held up and out of the way. A long, silent moment passed with Emily’s breath caught in her throat, and then the clippers started moving upward again. 

Slowly.

Patiently.

And then the resistance was met and their pitch changed again and Emily gasped once more as the clippers moved into the wealth of gorgeous locks she had until that moment thought would be spared. They moved upward about a half inch, and then down and to the side; upward a half inch, and then downward again and to the side again. Emily was shaking as Amanda worked, not knowing where this was headed or whether that was where she wanted it to go; she’d never actually agreed to any of this and yet here she was, frozen in place as more and more of her beautiful hair was being clippered away. 

Nothing fell free as the clippers worked, trapped as the locks were beneath Emily’s trembling hands. Her head fell forward a bit, her teeth chewing her bottom lip as she imagined feeling the rumble of the clippers between her thighs. Every exploring caress executed by the backs of Amanda’s fingers, carefully inspecting the velvet pelt that remained behind, sent shivers of delight down Emily’s spine. 

The glory of it all was shattered, though, when Donald shouted, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Emily startled and Amanda pulled the clippers away.

As Emily looked at Donald, he asked again, “What did I tell you about doing that?”

Emily looked at her reflection, and let her hair fall free from atop her head. Thick swaths of shorn hair fell free as well, floating to the floor as she shook her head from side to side. In her reflection, nothing at all looks different — she was the same long-haired girl with blunt bangs who showed up at the party with a boyfriend who was kind of a prick.

Gathering her hair up into another ponytail and baring her new undercut, Emily met Amanda’s gaze in the reflection in the mirror and said, “Keep going.”

The clippers roared to life again, pressing to Emily’s right cheek. As Donald huffed and stormed away, they rose, changing tones as the swept away the hint of a forelock in front of her ear and then moved upward toward her temple, shearing an unhideable path of pale scalp and soft velvet through her thick hair. Slowly, carefully, and meticulously, Emily’s right ear was permanently bared, deprived of the lush locks that had kept it hidden since Emily was in grade school. 

As Emily’s breath again became stilted, as she again let herself sink into the subtle pleasure of focusing on the vibrating hum against her skin, her enviable crowning glory was shorn away from around her petite left ear as well. Amanda took hold of the ponytail herself then, freeing Emily’s hands to fidget nervously as the last of the clipper strokes crested her crown from nape to forehead, ruthlessly stealing away what had taken years to grow and hours and hours to maintain. What had been more of a hobby than a body part, and, when the clippers quieted and Emily opened her eyes, was nothing more than a discarded pile of soft, silky tresses that looked like blue-tinted ink on Amanda’s dresser.

Switching clipper heads, Amanda went to work again, her delicate, gentle fingers cupping the side of Emily’s clippered head as the clippers nipped and nibbled the already perfect buzzcut into more of a style; shortening the sides even more and bringing the edges down to almost nothing.

Emily nibbled her lips some more, fascinated by the reflection of this new, shorn version of her being tended to by such a beautiful woman. She reached up to fluff her still-intact bangs a bit, marveling at how much their brief length — maybe 4 or so inches — contrasted the rest of her velvety mane. They had always been her trademark, had been what could identify her easily from a distance,

As long as they were there, she could still be seen as the version of herself who would never let a stranger take away all of her hair.

All of the sudden, in this moment, that didn’t seem all that necessary.

“Can I get the 1/8th clipper head back?” She asked.

Amanda popped the requested blade on her clippers and held them out.

Emily took them, popped them on, and let the vibrations ride up her arm for a moment before lifting them back to her temple. As she maintained eye contact with her reflection, she moved the clippers across her forehead in a long, slow stroke. The pitch of the blades changed when they met her thick bangs, but not nearly as much as when they reduced the rest of her crowning glory to stubble. They rumbled and purred, but met almost no resistance as Emily bangs began to rain down in front of her, so easily reduced to the same minuscule length as the rest of her gorgeous velvety pelt.

“I really did not expect that all to happen,” Amanda said.

“Neither did I.” Emily lifted a palm to her head, feeling the bareness of the curve of her skull against her skin as she rub-rub-rubbed what remained of her beautiful long hair. She had not been prepared for the burst of sensations that followed, especially when Amanda joined in and caressed her shorn nape a few times.

Emily wasn’t sure how she managed not to cum right there, but she did avoid it.

“You did not warn me about how good that would feel!”

Amanda beamed. “Didn’t want to ruin the surprise, sweety.”

Emily laughed, and kept on smiling as she looked at herself in the mirror. A perfectly cute round head, with dark, elegant eyebrows that were suddenly strikingly heavy above her blue eyes. A regal nose and rose petal lips, with two cute ears holding six piercings each now completely out in the open. Her neck had never seemed so long, and it was comparable, suddenly, with so many of the models’ downstairs.

“You’d be surprised how well the work that requires a style like this pays,” Amanda said. “There’s not as much of it, but the smaller pool of potentials means more money. I can look into it for you, if you want.”

Emily smiled again, her hands still caressing the crown of her head. “Maybe. I’ll be in touch?”

Amanda nodded. “Go enjoy the party. I’ll clean this up.”

Emily looked at the gargantuan pile of her hair, destined to be swept into the wastebasket. She rubbed her head again, certain she never would have even considered doing anything like this earlier that day, or even just an hour ago. But here she was, newly buzzed and, apparently, newly single. 

Leaving the room and completely forgetting about the bathroom, she strode confidently past the line gathered there. Flitting eye contact was made with everyone who looked her way as she went down the stairs, which she noticed was much more than the number who bothered looking her way beforehand. 

Maybe her precious hair had simply overwhelmed her before, hiding her from view. Or maybe Donald did. Maybe going without either of those things would reveal new opportunities for her to pursue, if she was willing to chase after them. Time would tell.

As she skirted her way into the dining room where the drinks were, a tall Adonis with curious green eyes and short, layered brown hair begging to be rumpled pointed at her. “Didn’t you have gorgeous long hair when you got here?” he asked.

Looking him up and down, and not minding what she saw at all, she met his gaze again and smirked. “Maybe.”

He smiled rather beautifully. “I would not have thought you could get more gorgeous than when I saw you then, yet here we are. Your boyfriend is a lucky guy.”

“What if I told you he’s no longer my boyfriend? Would that make me even more gorgeous?”

He grinned. “Decidedly so.”

“Good to know.” She said nothing else before turning and heading to the table of red solo cups and the kegs of beer, noting without disappointment that the tall Adonis was still watching her. She filled her cup and took a sip, pretending to be interested in some nearby wall hangings until he worked up the courage to approach her. 

With a sheepish grin, he asked. “This might be silly, but would you mind…” and he raised one hand, hesitating when it was just a few inches from her head. She smiled and leaned in, closing her eyes and cooing softly as he began to rub and caress her freshly shorn crop. 

“That’s unreal,” he said. “I think I could do this all night.”

She stepped closer as his exploring fingers moved toward her nape. She took a sip from her cup before looking up at him through her eyelashes, her body brushing ever so lightly against his. “We might just have to find out whether you can, won’t we?”

She revised her earlier thought: Maybe some opportunities would chase after her, instead.

—end—

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Any comments/observations/critiques are welcome and appreciated. You never know where inspiration will strike from!

4 responses to “The Party

  1. A wonderful, surprising story! It was so sensual to read about Emily being seduced by Aphrodite & her clippers. So much more subtle than most. It would be interesting to do a followup with Amanda continuing her role as barber/mentor.

    Many thanks, as that was most enjoyable. And Happy New Year.

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