Foreword: This story is a prequel to Rebellion , though it’s written in a way that you wouldn’t need to have read that story to follow the plot here. However, those that have read Rebellion will catch a few callbacks/details sprinkled in here that can be appreciated. Just like Rebellion, this one’s a joint project with a good friend of mine. We hope you love the story of these two as much as we do.
I’d truly never met a girl like Roxanne before. Brilliant, beautiful, funny, insanely gifted with her tongue (and with a strap)…god, it still is hard for me to understand how some women are straight when Roxanne exists, a goddess amongst mere mortals. And that hair, that bright red hair that flows to her hips, which she wields like a weapon of mass seduction, constantly doing the most to bring it to others’ attention; that might be the first thing you’d notice when you meet her, but it was really just the cherry on top of a perfect femdom sundae.
That red hair was far from natural, though. She’d told me on our first date that she’d always known her destiny was to be a redhead, biology be damned. So every three months, she took care of the pesky roots that revealed her shameful brunette origins, and accordingly, about three months into our relationship, she asked me to meet her at the salon tomorrow so we could get dinner nearby after her appointment ended.
Her hair was so resplendent that it helped me ignore mine even more, for which I was thankful. Making hers the star of the show, and spending so much time in bed with me braiding it, combing it, twirling it in awe, having her wrap it around my neck in strangulation when we felt kinky, made me forget what a disappointment mine was. Yes, many would say my being a natural blonde was a gift—”I love blondes,” Roxanne had told me, her blue eyes locked with my green ones, on our first date—but it was so thin and lank, only ever growing to a few inches under my shoulders no matter how many vitamins I took. In a family of thick-haired blonde beauties, I’d always been self-conscious about not measuring up to my sister and mother’s—hell, even all my cousins’— luscious locks. When our mother combed our hair before bed, there was a marked difference between how much care and effort my sister’s took, and the short, quick combing mine invited. The other Forrester women had golden lioness manes, and my hair was just…there. At this point of knowing my hair well after almost 30 years of having it on my head, I’d stopped even going to salons, and quickly snipped off the dead ends myself if they looked ratty. Why spend time and money on hair that was permanently tied up in a ponytail? Even in my high school yearbook, when everyone got a superlative, I was named “most likely to never been seen without a ponytail.”
Which Roxanne quickly noticed. On our second date, as she twirled pasta around her fork, she pointed the fork at me in an accusatory manner and bluntly stated, “I’ve never seen your hair down before. What’s up with that?”
“Well, we have only met twice.”
“Yes, but in all your tinder photos, ponytail after ponytail. As I told you, I love blonde hair. Can’t you take your hair down for me? Pretty please? Rapunzel Rapunzel, let down your hair?” she pouted, and good god was it hard to resist her.
“It’s not exactly Rapunzelesque,” I sighed, as she took a sip of red wine, never breaking her gaze into my eyes. “It just dies out and stops growing at a certain boring medium-length point. Plus, I’ve always been very active—in high school there was lacrosse, rugby in college, and now always being on the go as a stage manager—so I like doing a ponytail. Simple and easy.”
“You know what else would be simple and easy?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye as she leaned in closer to me. “Short hair. If you hate your hair so much, why don’t you just chop it off?”
I felt my heart stop, and she must have noticed I looked panicked, for her eyes softened and she suddenly seemed…a bit meek? Roxanne, meek? “I….I mean you’re gorgeous and don’t need to change anything about yourself…I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings or anything…”
“It’s fine,” I said, my heart beating again. “The idea just never occurred to me.”
“Really?” she asked quizzically. “You were on the fucking girl’s rugby team in college and a dyke chop never occured to you? THE GIRL’S RUGBY TEAM?”
“Ok yeah, I have some bona fide dyke status,” I laughed, “but it just never occurred to me. The women in my family all have this gorgeous long, thick, wavy hair,” I pulled out my phone to show her a family photo, and noticed her eyes popping as she took in the sea of golden waves, “so short hair was just never what ladies do. Literally never occurred to me until this second.”
She smirked, and I wondered what was going through her head. “You know what?” she asked, as the check arrived, “how about we go to my place so not-quite-Rapunzel can let down her hair in a more private and comfortable setting.” And so I did, enjoying the odd sensation of my hair falling onto my chest and down my back when Roxanne…I’ll leave that to your imagination.
As we got more serious, my ponytail became a running joke. To tease me, she’d call me a horse girl… which was technically correct, since I was an equestrian in my prep-school days, although I’d thought my revamped adult wardrobe and small and delicate, yet noticeable tattoos erased my shameful WASPy past. Not in Roxanne’s eyes, though. As much as she tried to play with and pamper my hair, I always deflected and put the focus back on her glorious mane, which after three months of dating had faded a bit too much for her liking. So there I was, standing outside a salon with a giant rainbow flag in the window, watching Roxanne chat up a sexy woman who washed her hair. Damn, the thought of the mighty Roxanne lying down, her head at the mercy of another woman’s hands…I just had to walk in.
“Roxie!” I called out, and noticed her supine head and the head of her stylist turn towards me. Her stylist, who I knew from Roxanne was named Fran, was intriguingly androgynous, black jeans and saddle shoes paired with a button-down shirt and a slicked-back, short haircut making her look like one of the boys from The Outsiders. “Sorry, babe,” Roxanne said to me, as I approached them, “I thought I’d be done earlier but Fran and I chatted so much that she’s only washing the dye out now. Come pull a stool next to us!”
As I pulled a stool over and sat in it, I was surprised by the scene I took in around me. I’d expected Roxanne to go to some fancy salon, but this was…more of a barbershop? I was surrounded by androgynes of all varieties—not just the alluring Fran—both in the chair and walking around wielding scissors and clippers…yes, clippers, for many of the customers around me, whose gender I couldn’t tell you if you put a gun to my head (but honestly, that made me like the place even more) were getting short cuts freshened up with them. As I twisted my head to look at everyone there, I heard Roxanne say, “like the view?” She was now seated upright, with Fran combing her wet, long hair onto each side of her chest so that it spilled over her breasts, and I realized she was the only person here with long hair.
Besides me, that is.
“I’m just surprised, Roxie,” I told her, and saw Fran smile when she heard me use my pet name for my girl. “Roxanne of the lustrous pre-Raphaelite tresses is the last person I’d expect to go to a barbershop.”
As she smirked, Fran began to blow-dry her hair and explains “we are technically a gender-neutral barbershop, but we do anything a customer wants, really. Ariel The Mermaid over here,” she uses her blow dryer to blow a chunk of Roxanne’s freshly-dyed ruby red hair into her face playfully, which made Roxie giggle, “knows I’m the best at reds in town, so that’s what brings her here.”
“Plus,” Roxanne added, looking ridiculously stunning with her mane blown-out, Jesus Christ I am lucky to have the sexiest girl in New York City, I thought (and still think, even years after our wedding) to myself, “it’s important to me to support queer businesses, and it’s a nice little queer community here. Pretty view, you have to admit,” she says, gesturing at the clientele.
Suddenly I started to feel a bit angry—was she checking out other people while dating me?— and tightened my ponytail. But as Fran took the cape off Roxie, I learned I have nothing to fear when she bounded over and jumped with excitement to see me, tilting her head up to meet my eyes (she is, after all, a good three inches shorter than I am) and pulling me into a deep kiss.
Wrapping my arms around her tiny waist once the kiss ended, we faced Fran, who looked at us winsomely. “So, when am I getting you in my chair, Joanna?” she asked. I felt Roxie wrap her arms around my waist as well and squeeze. “I don’t really want to go red, that’d look kind of cheesy with Roxanne being a redhead, too,” I told her. She burst out laughing. “Oh honey, no, I mean for a haircut! You’ve gotta give all these cropped cuties a run for their money in gaining Roxanne’s attention.” I felt Roxanne stiffen in my arms, and saw that she was glaring at Fran. “Uh….I mean… not that she’s not seriously into you…she’s wild about you! I actually was coloring her hair when she first saw your tinder profile and got to see the love at first sight happen” Fran stammered. Roxie grabbed my hand.
‘We’re going to dinner. See you in three months, Fran,” she said sternly. She dragged me out into the street, and we managed to enjoy our dinner, although the whole time I couldn’t stop thinking about Fran’s comment on those other “cropped cuties” stealing Roxanne’s attention, and the mischievous glint in Roxie’s eye on our second date when she asked “why don’t you just chop it off?”
And then I remembered the time we were walking to the grocery store and passed a salon, where this one woman was having her ponytail held out behind her and then sawed off, leaving her with a messy bob falling around her face. Roxanne had paused at the window, watching it the way other lesbians might watch the Victoria’s Secret lingerie fashion show, before I’d grabbed her arm to pull her towards the store before it closed for the night. But now that memory was nagging at me, and I felt compelled to ask her about it later that night.
“Roxie… can I ask you a question?”
“Mhm?” She looked up at my eyes while lying in my arms in bed, my toned biceps making for a comfy cushion.
“But you gotta be honest with me, okay?” I tried not to come off too seriously.
“When am I never?” Roxanne laughed, though still wary of what was to come.
“Did you… enjoy watching that woman getting her hair cut? Last week in the window?”
It was a pointed question— one I later learned that Roxanne had always been afraid of. Of course bringing me to one of her salon visits was going to have its risks, but she didn’t think I’d catch on so quickly. Probably didn’t help that she was a little obvious at times with her ‘voyeuring’ too.
“I mean, weren’t you enjoying it too?” She tried to deflect. “It was a lot of hair being chopped off. Any big makeover like that’s bound to turn heads, isn’t it?”
“Yeah but you were watching really close, like you were pretty into it,” I observed, then slowly realised the defensive tone Roxanne was putting up. “I’m not jealous or anything, by the way. I was just curious, but I didn’t wanna mention back then or anything. I just-” I was getting a little flustered, and Roxanne was stiff in my arms, just preparing herself for the worst at this point. “Did you wish that it was me instead? Getting my hair cut short?”
She inhaled deeply, and then reached up to my ponytail, taking the hairtie out so that my limp blonde locks fell onto my bare chest. “Remember when you asked me if I have any kinks? And I told you I had one that I’d tell you about when I knew I could trust you?”
“Well,” she blushed, “bravo to you, since you uncovered it on your own.” And then I noticed the strangest thing—Her Royal Highness actually looked ashamed, and pulled the sheets over her face in embarrassment.
Wow, I truly had never met a girl like Roxanne before! Totally fine with fingering me in public at night against the lamppost on a first date, but ashamed of finding haircutting and short hair on girls sexy? The more I thought about it the more I found her kink…kind of endearing, actually. It was certainly niche, but not really degrading…
“Look,” I said, pulling the sheets over my face as well and snuggling into her under the covers, “anything that makes it easier to know how to please or excite someone is great information.” She pulled back and stared at me. “What?”
“It’s cute!” I said, pulling her tiny body into my strong arms, “If you were into scat play I might be taken aback. But sharing your passion is the only way to get it catered to, so I’m proud of you for being open.”
“Jesus,” she replied in a tone of disbelief, “literally only two of my closest friends know about this…and Fran guessed it, which is why she said what she said. This is legitimately harder for me to come out to people about than being gay.”
“Well, you just did it,” I told her, and pulled her into me even tighter. “Jo,” she said softly, stroking my hair, “don’t take this to mean I want you to cut your hair, ok? I wouldn’t have even swiped right on you if I didn’t feel turned on by you. I mean, you’d look incredible with a short cut…what with those cheekbones and those big eyes and those collarbones and that long, graceful neck and …fuck,” she grabbed one of my hands and brought it to her pussy, which was soaking. I’d never felt her this wet! “Anyway, what I was saying is that I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do. But now that you know, you can feel free to incorporate stuff into our sex life like threatening to chop it off…oooh!” she cries out when she feels my fingers enter her soaking wetness.
And for the next three months, we became closer and closer, her big reveal bonding us all the more tightly. I developed a game where I’d dangle my ponytail in front of her, swinging it back and forth like a pendulum, and bring scissors close to it and almost close them…but never go through with it. All the fun was in the teasing, and as we bonded sexually, we grew closer emotionally as well. I even let her braid my hair and try different styles with it, and she made me feel so pretty and loved. Six months together with her felt like three years with anyone else, in terms of the comfort and the intimacy. I even included her when FaceTiming with my WASPy parents back in Connecticut, and I’ve never seen anyone happier in my life than she was when I asked her to join me for Thanksgiving. After her own parents disowned her for being gay, she’d never thought she’d attend another family Thanksgiving again.
Another three-month point since her last hair appointment had passed, and it was time for her to refresh the red. “Want to come with me again? It’d be nice for you to get to know Fran better, since she’s a good friend.”
Given her haircut fetish, this would be our equivalent of going to a strip club together, I realized. Couldn’t pass up the fun. And so there I was, chatting with Fran as she once again brightened Roxie’s crowning glory.
“You passed the test with flying colors, you know,” she told me, as Roxanne was waiting for the color to set in another part of the shop. “The test?” I asked. “Oh, she never told you about that? Well, she did tell me she let you know about her little thing,” she said with a wink, “so I just assumed you knew about the test.” “Well now I’m intrigued, so you have to tell me,” I demanded. “Whenever she comes, we usually swipe through her tinder and I help her decide who she should swipe right on. And she and I will both only swipe right on a long-haired girl if we decide she’d look great with short hair, and we pick the type of haircut that’d best suit them…so when she saw that long, slim neck of yours in your photos? Even six months later I can remember how instantly-enamored she was.”
Part of me felt like I should be hurt knowing she’d originally wanted a different version of me, and I self-consciously tightened my ponytail. But what I should feel wasn’t what I always felt, ever since I was little and knew I should want to kiss boys but wanted to kiss girls instead. What I felt, instead of hurt, was actually flattery and excitement. Tyra Banks did always say on ANTM that you need an especially-gorgeous face to work short hair.
“You both think I’d really look good with short hair? Not too masculine?”
Then I heard her voice come closer as she settled back into the chair. “Babe, you’d look fucking phenomenal. Your face was made to be shown off.” Fran nodded, and my ponytail started to feel oddly heavy. As Fran washed out Roxie’s dye and dried her hair, I took my hairtie out and put it around my wrist, combing my hair down straight using my fingers. At this point, it was late, so no one was left in the shop besides myself, Roxie, and Fran. I didn’t need to worry about what anyone else thought of it, and I noticed how brittle it felt. As Roxie bounded off the chair, Fran looked at me with widened eyes. “The mysterious mane emerges from hiding at last!” she says, and took it into her hands. It felt so bizarre having anyone besides myself or Roxanne touch my hair, the most intimate of privileges. “Want me to style it or something?” Fran asked, “try out the curling iron to give it some volume?”
And then, I found myself walking to the chair, where I sat down with a confidence I didn’t know I possessed. “No, Fran,” I told her, watching Roxie get her purse as she prepared to leave. “I want you to cut it. Short. Like whatever style you and Roxie thought would best suit me when you first saw my photos.”
I heard a thud and saw Roxanne had dropped her bag to the floor. “This teasing is going too far,” she chided. “I’m not teasing,” I said, turning to face her. “When you asked months ago why I keep hair I don’t even like…you were right. Let’s give it a mercy killing.”
“But, Jo, we’re seeing your parents next week for Thanksgiving! They voted Republican until Trump!”
I tried to play it cool and perform a nonchalant shrug, “so, they’ll get to see me with my hair actually looking good for once, not neatly tied away.”
“That’s right,” Fran said, coming behind me in the chair. “Neatly-short instead of neatly tied away.” A shiver ran through my body when I heard her say that—“short” could mean anything from a shoulder-grazing long bob to a buzz cut, and I realized that by agreeing to Roxanne and Fran’s original, secret vision for me, I could have agreed to anything. “Now, before you change your mind… Roxanne, help me turn the sign to closed so we don’t get disturbed, then come pull a stool by Jo so you can offer moral support. She may be acting strong, but I know she’s gonna need it. And,” she took the hairtie from around my wrist and started to pull my hair into a tight ponytail, the hairtie at the very base of my head, touching my scalp—oh shit, this is gonna be SHORT short— “we’re gonna have one final infamous Joanna Forrester ponytail, before they’re gone forever.”
I felt the tightest knot in my stomach when she said that and pulled out a pair of scissors from her pocket, but the knot only tightened when I saw her lock eyes with Roxanne—who was sitting right next to me on a stool—in the mirror. “You know what?” Fran quizzically asked before suddenly offering the scissor to Roxanne. “I think you should be the one to do the honor.”
Roxanne’s eyes went wide, with a deer-in-headlights look I’d never seen her face express. “I….I…”
“…Should maybe leave this to a professional so I don’t butcher my girlfriend’s hair?” I completed the sentence for her, and she scowled.
“No, honey,” her voice is surprisingly tender. “It’s going to end up much shorter than the length of when the ponytail gets chopped off, so Fran will indeed be the architect of the look.” My heart dropped into my stomach when she said that—much shorter? Was I going to look like a boy? As someone who grew up a tomboy and would always get teased for being boyish, that idea brought up a lot of childhood shit for me. “I just never thought I’d get the chance to do this in my life, I…I can’t believe this is happening! This is a dream come true!” Her voice and face turned from nervous to gleeful as she happily accepted the scissor from Fran and leapt up, walking behind me. “Ok babe, say goodbye to the horse girl. She had a long run, but she’s ready to become a sexy, mature woman now.”
I watched in the mirror as she dove in, one hand holding my ponytail taut at the base of my head while the other snip snip snip fuck—suddenly, sooner than I would’ve imagined with just a few snips, she was holding my ponytail up in the air, dangling it like a trophy with one hand and using the other hand to muss the shorn hair that now fell around my face as she beamed.
I didn’t even know where to look in with my attention pulled in two directions—at Roxanne holding the ponytail with sadistic delight or at the new me left behind. But as Roxanne laid the poor severed ponytail on the desk, I looked intently into the mirror to inspect the stranger who looked back at me. Her short hair was actually…thick? Bouncing around her face in healthy, generous waves? I leaned towards the mirror and kept ruffling this new hair on my head in shock. It was a total mess, different lengths all over, but shit…it looked…pretty! Like the abundant tresses the other women in my family were blessed with, just shorter.
As if she was reading my mind, Fran quickly chimed in, “oftentimes, cutting the bulk out of someone’s hair actually brings it to life and makes it a lot thicker and wavier than it was when it was being dragged down by length. Guess that was the case for you…goes to show you should’ve had it short all along!” I felt a peck on my cheek as Roxie kissed it, tucking my newly-jaw length tresses behind my ear. “You’re being so brave,” she softly whispered into my ear, which helped steady my already racing pulse. “Hold on,” I told both women as Roxie took her seat in the stool next to me, “now that it’s actually looking so thick and healthy and wavy, why would I cut it even shorter? Can’t we just leave it as a bob like this?”
Fran and Roxie looked at each other like co-conspirators in a crime. “The thing is,” Fran informed me, “The shorter it gets cut, the wavier and healthier it’s actually going to look—based on my work with clients with similar hair types, I know it’ll just start to spring into waves even more when there’s less of it. The cut we have in mind is really going to boost the volume and texture beautifully. Can you trust us?” I felt Roxie squeeze my hand, and I looked at her, unnerved by the unfamiliar feeling of thick hair slapping against my cheeks. “ Are you guys going to make me look like a boy? I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to really, I guess you can say grow into my womanhood, so…”
Roxie saw I was getting nervous and cut in with a reassuring tone. “Well technically, the length and style I picked out for you can be seen on plenty of boys and would be considered by some as a ‘boy cut’,” she started as she made air quotes with her fingers, “but on somebody with a face as delicate as yours, it’ll only make you look all the more feminine. Did I not tell you on our first date that my dream woman is Jean Seberg, and did you not agree with me that she was so gorgeous and that her short hair accentuated her beauty? Because that’s what you said— verbatim.” She must have been able to sense my heart stop so she quickly added “you’re not going as short as her, don’t worry. There will be a lot left to play with! But the thing is, you’ve always been a tomboy and that’s such a big part of your appeal. I say lean into that, play up the androgyny a bit and notice how often people are going to tell you what a beautiful face you have. And then if you hate the haircut so much,” she shrugged nonchalantly before holding my hand, “hair grows back.” She added a hand squeeze, and a soft, reassuring smile with that last line.
I had to admit that I was intrigued by the idea of my hair only getting thicker and wavier the shorter it was cut, and it looked so bountiful now that I realized Roxie was right—maybe this would be the confidence boost I needed. Plus, I could always grow it long again. Hair does grow.
I squeezed her hand in return. “Let’s do it,” I proclaimed . Roxanne beamed. “Fran,” she sternly instructed, still holding my hand. “Turn the chair around. I want Joanna to really be able to feel all the amazing sensory parts of this haircut without being distracted by what’s going on in the mirror. And then she’ll get a fun surprise when it’s done.”
Oh, that little minx of mine was always causing trouble! Fran nodded heartily and turned the chair away from the mirror, as Roxie flipped onto the other side of the stool, allowing me to keep holding her hand. Fran returned to my side, and I felt her grab what was left of my blonde mane before clipping it all up on top of my head— and wow, was that really how light my hair felt now?
She then started wrapping a… piece of tissue, around my neck? This was definitely not a thing that happened in the salons I’d been to, but I wasn’t going to say anything. “It helps make sure the little hairs don’t slip through,” Fran clarified as she snugly secured it, almost as if she was expecting me to be confused by it. “Especially since we’re going pretty short.” I squeezed Roxanne’s hand a little tightly at that last line out of instinct. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the black cape in Fran’s hands, ready to trap me. With a flourish, she flung it over my body, making sure it enveloped my entire figure completely— and now I was fully stuck in this web I had walked into so willingly. Oh dear god, what had I gotten myself into?
I heard Fran going back to the counter, where she started fiddling with a few of her tools while I had that brief moment of respite before the actual cutting continued. I nervously turned to face Roxanne, who almost instantly leapt into my lap and leaned into me for a deep kiss, throwing her arms around my caped neck. “You’re such a brave girl,” she whispered between lip locks, “I know this is fucking terrifying, but I’m so proud of you.” I could feel every muscle in my body just start to ease up as I was smothered by her planting kisses all over my forehead, cheeks, nose, and even chin— and I just knew I wouldn’t have this any other way. As much as this haircut was inspired by her, we both knew it was a favour for me as well. “How’re you feeling?” Roxanne asked with a smirk, looking at me up and down so seductively now, her arms still encircling my neck, which was bare with my hair clipped up, as she sat perched on my lap.
“Lightheaded,” I admitted.
“Well, you did lose quite a bit of weight on top. Trust me, I could feel the weight in that ponytail the moment it came right off— a burden off your shoulders now. Literally,” she impishly teased as she dusted my shoulders with her crimson mane— the only hair now that was ever going to be long enough to be touching my body. “It’s not gonna touch these shoulders for a long time. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never let it touch your shoulders again.”
“That’s really encouraging, babe,” I sarcastically shot back with the stiffest smile.
Roxanne giggled, and god I wished I could just hear that adorable laughter for the rest of my days. “I’m sorry, it’s just fun seeing you a little bit scared,” she said, pecking the back of my hand. “But trust me, you’re gonna look back one day and you’re going to realise this was the best thing you’d ever done in your life. Well,” she flipped her hair in the girliest way possible, “apart from me, of course.”
“Roxie!” I exclaimed, embarrassed that she’d say something so loudly— and yet I found myself blushing in agreement.
“Don’t worry— that was mild by her standards,” Fran remarked as I heard her return. “Alright, off you go, back to the stool with you, little mermaid. I’ve got a new woman to make,” she instructed the hottie in my lap.
Pouting, Roxanne slowly slipped off my lap, though still keeping her grip on my hand the whole time. Fran unclipped my head of hair, letting it all sprawl over my face which was a feeling I was still getting used to, with the ends just tickling my cheeks. With a comb, she started sectioning off the top part, clipping it up on my scalp as she left the sides and the back laying down around my head. “Wait… not-quite-Rapunzel hasn’t had her cherry popped yet, right?” Fran asked.
“My what?” There was no way she was asking a question like that so out of the blue, right?
“Oh my god, she hasn’t,” Roxanne turned to face me, all giddy with excitement.
“Why do I feel like this isn’t the same type of cherry I’m thinking of?”
“Oh… because it isn’t,” there was a devilish smile on Roxie’s face now. “Listen, Jo… You trust us, right?” there was concern in her tone, yet also… a playfulness?
“I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t,” I was getting very suspicious now, not knowing what in the world was going to happen.
“Good,” Fran said.
My heart genuinely stopped when I heard it, and my hand went into a death grip. “No,” I pleaded, not wanting to believe this one bit. “Roxie, no, it’s gonna be so fucking short!” I protested, with almost half a mind to just to leave that chair.
“Hey hey, look at me,” Roxie inched forward, her other hand turning my face to look at her. “You’re going to look fucking amazing, Jo,” she was all business now— not a hint of teasing in that voice. But my entire system was in total panic now, and I just couldn’t see myself going through with this at all. Damn my fucking impulses for getting me here.
I knew I had signed myself up for literally any possible haircut when I had left my hair in their hands, but a small part of me had faith it wasn’t going to go down such a drastic route. “You didn’t say anything about clippers!” Suddenly, that cherry popping reference made sense. Never in my life did I ever expect those bladed machines to go anywhere near my head.
“Of course I didn’t, because you wouldn’t have dared to get in the chair if you knew where this was going to go,” Roxanne’s hand held my head firmly, still staring into my eyes with the most commanding, yet somehow tender, look. “But you’re here now— the hard part’s over. All you’ve gotta do is trust us. Trust me,” her thumb gently rubbed my cheek as she caught a lone tear that escaped my eyelid. She turned to give Fran a look. The roaring of the clippers halted, and my chest loosened up ever so slightly. “Just be brave a little bit longer. I promise—- you’re going to look like the baddest bitch ever.” I tried to steady my breathing, though her words were having trouble sinking in. “Fran won’t be shaving you or anything, I promise. Using clippers is just easier for doing a pixie, and Fran will use a large guard so you’ll still have lots of soft hair on your head, ok? Trust me, I also want to make sure I have hair to play with for myself.” She smiled softly as she held my hands and gazed into my eyes.
“I’m not gonna look pretty anymore,” I half-whined, finally confessing that gnawing fear within as I struggled not to let my voice crack. “I’m gonna look like a boy.”
“You’re not going to look like a boy, Jo. You are the most gorgeous woman in the world, and you’re going to be more gorgeous once you leave this chair,” her tone was unwavering, her gaze steady as she gripped my hand with both of hers. “It’s going to be scary, but it’s going to be worth it. Be a brave girl for me, and I promise you’ll look the best you’ve ever looked.”
Be a brave girl. For her. There was something about the way she said it that slowly seeped the confidence into me. As much as this entire ordeal was for me and I knew this was a change I needed, for some reason framing it to be something for her was… heartening. I’d only been with this woman for less than a year, yet I already wanted to be the best I could be for her. And if she wanted me to brave for just one haircut— one incredibly drastic haircut— then… perhaps I could. For her.
I shut my eyes, heaving the heaviest sigh. “Okay,” I weakly said.
“That’s my girl,” she placated me as I felt her lean forward to give me a peck on the cheek. Almost on cue, Fran took it as her signal to resume.
It wasn’t as shocking hearing the clippers come to life the second time, but I instinctively tightened my grip on Roxanne’s hand. Chopping off the ponytail was just the first step into the great unknown, and now seemed to pale in comparison to what was going to happen next. Having a wavy bob was still pretty— short, definitely, but still clearly feminine. But what the clippers were going to do to my hair… I had no idea. I could only imagine the most extreme images in my mind, of my head ending up so exposed with barely any of my golden locks left behind. But I had the warm touch of a muse, and her promise of this being a positive transformation, to carry me through this.
“Now, this might tickle a little, but I promise it’s not gonna hurt,” Fran briefed as I heard her get closer, and the menacing drone only became louder. Pain or no, I was just expecting the worst. I felt Fran’s fingers take its position on my head, directing my head to tilt forward. I kept my eyes shut tight, and my gripping hand even tighter. This was it.
I stifled a whimper when I felt it on my neck— those hungry clippers ready to devour my luscious blonde. They vibrated continuously, reverberating the most nerve-wracking echoes through my entire body as they felt like they were just sitting on my neck for an eternity. Before I could even expect it, the clippers made their way up into my nape.
There was a loud shift in the tone of the clippers as I could just feel the blades sawing through my hair. I couldn’t help but let out a whimper, gritting through an uncomfortable cringe. Nothing could prepare me for that heart-stopping feeling. The back of my head was probably bald now, and I let this all happen.
Fran was relentless with the clippers— she never did stop for a moment. After that first pass up my nape, she quickly set the clippers back down onto the base of my neck to begin the next pass as she methodically sheared my mane, leaving chunks of severed hair lying on my neck. Oh, fuck me, was the back of my head starting to feel… cold? Was that the air-conditioning on it?
“You’re doing amazing, Jo,” Roxanne said, rubbing the back of my hand with a thumb.
“I’m gonna be half-bald,” I was almost in a full-blown whine now. All I could do was sulk as the clippers did their ruthless work, and I could feel Fran just flicking the shorn hair off my neck and onto the floor.
“You’re not,” Roxanne was half-giggling, perhaps thinking how absurd I sounded. “Fran, I’m so sorry, could you stop for a moment?” The clippers powered down, and yet again I was given a respite. “Now, this is the last time I’m gonna make Fran stop, but I want you to know that it’s going to look and feel spectacular.” It was her turn to take control of my hand now— loosening her grip as she slid her fingers down to grab my wrist. I opened my eyes now, realising what she was doing as she directed my hand up to the back of my head. “Here.”
I braced myself, expecting my fingers to just feel bare skin on the back of my head. My hand crept up my neck, approaching the base of the nape and-
“Soft…” I whispered, and that was quite literally the only word in my vocabulary for a whole minute. It was just so… soft. It definitely didn’t feel like bare skin— there were tufts of hair short enough that I couldn’t twirl, but long enough that I could feel them brushing against my fingers delightfully. And it felt so nice to touch. “I told you it was going to be a pixie cut, silly, not a shaved head,” Roxanne was almost chiding now, though with a warm smile still on her face. “The back and sides are just easier to cut as short as needed with clippers, and there’ll be plenty of hair left, I promise. Doesn’t it feel so wonderfully velvety?”
Now I felt stupid— you could say I’d overreacted just a little bit. Because she was right—it felt absolutely wonderful! I bowed my head to fully feel the nape as a smile burst onto my face, and couldn’t believe this softness was right there on the back of my head. Why had I always let the back of my head be a brittle, thin ponytail when I could’ve had this delectable-feeling fuzz covering the back instead? “Is that a smile I see?” Roxanne teased, tilting up my head to reveal my flushed cheeks. “What did I tell you, huh? You’re loving it already!” She seemed to be revelling in how right she was as my fingers were still buried in that fuzziness, and I couldn’t have been happier to have her be so right. “Alright, come on,” she beckoned with a hand, “hand back in mine so Fran can do her work. You’ll get to touch it a lot more later, okay?”
I found myself pouting, realising I wasn’t going to have this feeling for a while. I reluctantly let go of my nape, then took Roxanne’s warm hand once more. “That’s a good girl. Now, don’t hold my hands too tightly this time to avoid crushing them,” she advised as our fingers interlocked, “otherwise I can’t finger you later.”
“Roxie!” This girl was just unbelievable. But god, I loved her.
Fran cackled, then flicked the clippers back on. She went to my right side this time, ready to attack the blonde locks that were still covering my ear so comfortably. I felt her hand take its place on my head, and I relented to her touch as she firmly tilted it to my left. If the clippers were making my nape feel so good, I could only imagine how addictive it was going to be having it velvety all around the sides too. Fran swept aside the hair hanging down so she could position the clippers on my cheekbone, and I welcomed those roaring blades as she brought them up into my golden mane.
She flicked the clippers as they reached my temple, and my mouth went agape when I saw those hefty locks splatter down onto the cape. But I barely had time to register it— she was quick to start another pass up my right side, and then another. It was raining blonde, and the black cape was getting messier as all that hair was being buzzed off so swiftly. At one point she folded my ear down, then methodically ran the clippers through the hair that was left just above it. The moment she let go of my ear, an eerie thought hit me: there was nothing touching it anymore. Not a single lock was getting anywhere close to my ear— they were free now. And probably sticking out so awkwardly. Time to invest in cooler earrings.
When she was about done with the right side, Fran gave it a few swipes with her palm, and wow just feeling someone’s skin that close to my scalp was so weird. But in a good, refreshing way. And I knew from the grin on her face that for sure a certain somebody wasn’t going to be able to keep their hands off my head in bed later tonight. Roxanne may have seemed calm this whole time, though the frequent adjustments she had to make while sitting on her stool and to her tightly crossed legs hinted at how much of her arousal she was trying to hide. She must’ve been so turned on right now, watching her ultimate fantasy unfold before her eyes.
“Enjoying yourself?” I took the opportunity to shift the attention onto her.
“Oh, you have no idea,” there was sheer (haha) delight in her eyes, staying completely fixated on my head of hair that was being cropped to her liking, and she raised her voice so I could hear it over the roaring of the clippers. “You all caped up with a smile on your face is the most adorable thing in the world, and those cute little ears all exposed, and oooh, so vulnerable with your head bowed down and Fran moving it around from side to side…” she trailed off and crossed her legs tighter. I knew what that meant. Lord, I hoped that stool she sat on was stain-resistant, since she was wearing a short skirt and wasn’t exactly a fan of underwear.
I felt a tickling sensation on my neck after Fran asked me to hold it up rigidly, but couldn’t see what it was while turned away from the mirror. But Roxanne was there to narrate excitedly: “oooooh, you’re getting the neck brush!” she squealed in delight. “Doesn’t it feel lovely? Not that I would know but…tell me how it feels since I have no idea myself”
“It’s so prickly!” I found myself giggling a little, just feeling those bristles dusting away at my neck that was fully exposed to the world now. “Almost like someone’s tickling me, but it feels so good.”
“Oh there’s gonna be way more than just tickling on that sexy neck tonight,” Roxanne gave a devilish wink. “And those adorable little ears… waiting to be nibbled on.” Now she was the one nearly crushing my hand! Her excitement was easily rubbing off on me, and I too just couldn’t wait to get in bed with her already— to feel that raw desire that was bubbling inside her this whole time. We were barely midway through the haircut, but I could tell she would’ve pounced on me right at that moment if she could.
Fran soon stepped towards my left side— the side that still had my curtains of blonde sheltering me, but also the side that my hand was holding onto Roxanne’s. Fran seemed to be finding an angle to approach from with this impediment, and I realised I was making this job kind of hard for her. “Did you… want us to stop holding hands for a bit?” I warily asked.
“I can work through this, don’t wor-”
“No no, it’s okay,” I assured, turning to Roxanne. “I’m good.”
“Are you sure?” Roxanne seemed slightly surprised, and I couldn’t blame her — even I wouldn’t have expected myself to be ready to let go.
“Yeah,” I said, giving her my strongest smile. “Thank you, Roxie,” I gave the back of her hand one last peck before I let go of her warm hand, then slid my hand under the black cape.
“You’re the bravest girl, Jo,” she praised with a look of pride on her face, and my insides were fizzing with butterflies seeing her so impressed with me. She scooched her stool back a few inches, making way for Fran to come in and start finishing up. The clippers were turned back on, and I instinctively tilted my head to the right— ready for my sides to be shorn down to a nice velvety fuzz.
Fran’s free hand swept aside a few of my blonde locks before holding my head in place— giving room for those clippers to take their position on my cheekbones. Without much ado, those roaring blades went up into my golden mane, eager to clean up this last section. Fran operated like clockwork: making a firm pass up the side of my head, followed by a flick of the clippers as she reached up the top. With each flick, a hefty clump of locks came plunging down onto the cape, joining the abstract mess of blonde that was already gathered on my lap. I couldn’t help but bring my hands out of the cape to play with the pile on my lap and stared in awe as I bunched golden locks between my fingers. All those years of growth, all those years of sitting so limply at the back of my head… now just lying there so lifelessly, like an exhibition of my past. All easily falling prey to those menacing clippers that I’d never thought I’d experience.
In all honesty, the clippers were getting… comfortable, making passes around my head. Sure, they were buzzing off bundles of my hair at a time, but there was something so soothing about the way they vibrated against my scalp. It almost felt like a massage. Oh Lord, how were head massages going to feel now without all that hair stuffing up my head? Maybe if I was lucky I could get someone to give me a head massage in bed tonight…
Roxanne was shifting her position here and there from time to time, trying her best to get the perfect view as Fran was manoeuvring around my left side, blocking her sight. I wonder how intense of a spectacle this must’ve seemed to her. Back when I’d just found out about her little fascination, I got curious to know what she did to cope with it. Was there a different type of porn she’d watch? Did she peep into salons any chance she got just to catch a haircut? And then she showed me a few of her YouTube playlists– and I was amazed. When I saw her secret Pinterest boards filled with short haircuts, I couldn’t help but wonder…did she fantasize about any of those styles on me? Guess I was going to find out soon.
It didn’t take long before the left side of my head was shortened to Fran’s liking, and I just felt dizzy feeling so much air around my head now. She then started running the clippers all over the back and sides, tilting my head around to her fancy as she made sure the length was even. “Alright, that’s the first part done,” Fran eventually announced as the clippers powered down for the last time. “Feels all nice and airy already, doesn’t it?” she asked as she swept a hand over the fuzz, and shivers went through my body feeling the sides of my head so free.
“It’s like it’s winter already,” I joked along, though the sentiment was quite true. Just as Fran swept all the hair off my lap onto the floor and went back to the counter to pick up her next set of tools, I took it as my chance to touch my head. But before my hands could even slide out of the cape, another pair of hands already found their way there.
“You are the hottest thing ever,” Roxanne complimented as her hands explored this new, velvety realm on my head— a realm that I had so brazenly surrendered to her by getting into this chair. Her fingers spared no expense, and I melted into her touch as her fingernails began digging in softly, brushing against the fuzz up and down, like someone touching velvet. “Is this how cats feel when you pet them?” she asked with a giggle as I hummed so exquisitely, cherishing every bit of her indulging in me. I could just have her scratching my head all day.
The fun was over too soon when Fran returned, this time shooing Roxanne away quite physically before she unclipped the top section of my hair. My blonde locks spilled all over my face, a gentle reminder that I at least had some tangible hair on my head still. For now. There was still a slight dread looming— I had no idea how short the top was going to be. Roxanne had mentioned it was going to be a pixie, but even that was ambiguous. Looking through her Pinterest boards was quite the eye opener, realising there were millions of variations of pixies that actually existed. And for all I know, I could’ve been getting the shorter end of the spectrum. I remembered when she pointed out a rather stark one— where the model’s hair was probably barely an inch on top. “Tight crop. Really sexy. So short you can barely run your fingers through, but so bold. Makes a woman the fiercest she could ever look,” she described the picture to me back then, and I remembered getting shivers just thinking about it. Was it a super hot look? Absolutely. But I didn’t think I was ready for something so drastic.
And as Fran resumed her work, I steadied myself as I accepted that my fate was out of my hands. I’d already made it this far— chickening out now would’ve been such a waste. She started spritzing my hair with a spray bottle, raking a comb backwards through my unruly locks so that it was all off my face.. Feeling those droplets of water trickling over the rather exposed sides of my head felt so cooling— goodness, showers were going to be a literal breeze.
Once the top was damp to her liking, I heard her set down the spray bottle before unsheathing her scissors once more. Roxanne was watching with rapt attention now, her eyes almost glistening as she awaited this last part of my transformation, our hands once again clasped. Fran eagerly began towards the back of my head, combing a small section of my locks upwards. I felt her fingers trace the locks, leaving some length between them and my scalp.
SNIP SNIP SNIP
I felt some of those poor locks thud onto the back of my shoulders while the rest slid down onto the floor. But she didn’t spare a moment— she combed another section straight up in the same fashion, measuring the length before- SNIP SNIP SNIP. Even though there were no clippers being used, there was still a vigour to those vicious snips that kept me on edge. After all, this part was all Fran: no more clippers with guards to guide the cut— only her expert eye and fingers to make the judgements on the length. With every snip came a downpour of blonde, littering from every side of my head as Fran so gracefully manoeuvred across my crown.
Some unlucky locks ended up on my outstretched hand on the left, but before I could even try to shake any of them off Roxanne was quick to pick them up herself with a free hand. She made sure to sprinkle them as gleefully as possible in front of me, letting me watch every single lock I’d lost while I was still blind to what I was left with. Once I felt Fran reaching the front of my head, I knew this was the chance I’d have to at least guess how short it was going to be. She combed up that last bit that would’ve been my bangs, sliding her fingers away from my head before deciding on the length.
SNIP SNIP SNIP
Those last bit of locks rained down right past my face, joining the rest of its brethren in my lap. I felt the hair that was left on my head spill forward, and I let out a small sigh. It was thankfully still long enough that it was touching most of my forehead. I gave my head a slight shake, and it was just about long enough that it could sweep across my brows too. Phew, no tight crop today. If I had to deduce the length, it was probably one of those long pixies Roxanne had shown me, where the top would still be plentiful to play with. Practical, yet also with styling options. Better than just a ponytail, I guess.
When the rough length was about done, Fran started going all over my head once more, though this time with much smaller, precision snips as she shaped the cut into its perfect form. I saw her switching scissors, this time going for the thinning shears that I’d seen being used before at my old salon. She went for the topmost section here, trying to reduce the bulk left on my head as I was just growing impatient to see what it was going to look like. But technically speaking, it was all done. This was it. I was no longer a long-haired girl. Everything had felt like such a blur, yet this had also been the longest, most suspenseful haircut in my entire life. It only took less than an hour to undo so many years of me— and it now was all laid out in front of me on the floor, the cape, and in that severed ponytail on the desk.
“And we’re done!” Fran soon announced so cheerfully as she ran a few fingers through my freshly shorn head of hair, tossing it this way and that. “All yours for the final inspection, Roxie.”
“My pleasure,” Roxanne said as she patted my hand before letting go. She got out of the stool with a curious glee on her face, ready to be the first to appraise the new me. Her hands found their way into the hair above (thank god there was still enough for her fingers to run through), and I heard a small gasp escape her. Her eyes brightened as she explored this new landscape, ruffling it in every single way possible as I was left to enjoy her soft touch all over my scalp. It was safe to say she was more than delighted with the haircut, which filled me with some hope. Any moment now it was my turn, and I wasn’t sure if I was truly prepared. “The cut is perfect, Fran,” she remarked, her fingers now combing my hair a certain way. “You’re an absolute magician. And you,” she looked down at me now with those hungry eyes, “are the sexiest girl ever.”
“Really?” I asked with a slight whimper.
“Of course, babe,” her voice dropped, turning into more of a subtle warmth than fire. “I think you look the best you’ve ever looked in your life. No more lank, bland ponytail girl— all I see now is a strong, confident woman who’s owning who she is. And you know what the best part is?” She stopped for a moment as her hands slid down to the sides of my face, holding me so tenderly. “This was all you. You chose to sit in this chair and ask for this. You made this big decision. Not me, not Fran. All we did was help you through it. You took the first, and most important step. And I am so proud of you for this.” She leant in, and our lips met. This time her fire was more tamed— more delicate, as if trying to slowly soothe me rather than excite me. And in the heat of it all, I could feel it in my bones how right all of this felt. She eventually pulled away, but her face still remained in its hue of encouragement. “Are you ready to see the new Joanna?”
I steadied myself, knowing full well this was going to be it. This was the heart attack I was dreading the entire time I was in the chair, and it had to come sooner or later. But I was going to be alright. I just had to be. “Mhm,” I nodded excitedly, the butterflies now a raging torrent all through my system as I braced myself. Roxanne took hold of the chair, then swiveled it.
There was so much to take in in that reflection, but all it really was were three women— Roxie and Fran, who were the familiar faces, and then a blonde. The sides of her head were very short, and seemed so soft and fuzzy. The top was left much longer, with enough that length that it was parted so stylishly to the left side. She looked stunned, but dear Lord she looked incredible. Was that… me? My head turned from side to side, eyeing this foreign image whose head was turning too. That couldn’t be me. Could it? My hands left the cape, curious to investigate this once and for all. And so cautiously, my fingers reached up.
I sucked in the tightest gasp, and my fingers almost curled up feeling those fuzzy sides and back. It was all so short, but it still felt so good. Eagerly, those fingers crawled up, ready to feel that new length atop my crown. Oh, it felt magnificent. Plenty of length for my fingers to just comb through, yet so short that it wasn’t going to feel heavy. And my waves… the way they were so perfectly defined now. The Forrester gene finally showed itself, and all it took was to shed my long hair like a butterfly. This was it. This was me. I couldn’t explain it, but somehow I felt the most like myself I ever had felt when I looked in the mirror.
“Do you like it?” Roxanne popped her head on my shoulder, a soft smile on her lips, as she scratched the back of my fuzzy head like I was a cat. God, that felt divine!
“I think I might actually love it,” I hedged. “This is… wow,” the words escaped me. There was just so much to take in.
“That’s okay,” she assured before giving me a peck on the ear, “it’s a little disorienting at first, when you cut so much off. But you’ll really love it, I promise it. You look spectacular, Jo.”
And maybe that was all that mattered for now— that she loved it. “Thank you.”
“Come, let me show you how to style it,” Fran cut in eventually, taking her place behind me once more, though this time in clear view for me.
“Oh, no product for today, please,” Roxanne suggested. “Don’t want my hands getting icky when they’re running through those gorgeous waves tonight.”
“Will do,” Fran chuckled, then started ruffling through my hair. To be honest, I couldn’t remember much of this part— she was probably showing me the thousands of ways I could’ve styled it, but I was still so stunned that I just ended up nodding along when she said anything. The only headspace I had at that point was to stare in the mirror— absorbing that new image of me as the reality took a while to seep in. A brand new Joanna, who was a far cry from that ponytailed girl that had walked into the shop. And Roxanne was right: this was all me. I chose this path. Tonight could’ve been another simple dinner date after her hair appointment, but no. Tonight was something more.
I bit my tongue when I felt it again— that prickly sensation all over my nape which slowly crept towards my sides. “Just cleaning you up a bit, and then I’ll show you the back,” Fran narrated as the bristles of the neck brush found their way to my ears, and I had to hold back a giggle. “Right, here’s how it looks. I left the neckline kind of natural, but the sides and back are all nice and even at about a #4,” she said as she held up the hand mirror behind me.
“Mhm,” I pretended to follow her, though personally just in awe at how short the back was as well. And my long, slender neck was all on show now— no more hair I could put down to cover it up. Maybe I needed a heavier scarf for winter now.
“Practically a new woman now. Here, let me get this off you so you can get back into the little mermaid’s arms.” Fran started undoing the neck tissue and cape, and I could feel the weight of that hair-filled cape lifted off my shoulders. She whisked it off, then gave a sizeable flick that sent all those poor blonde locks plunging to the ground. I spent a good moment staring at the floor— taking in that golden mess that was scattered all around the chair.
But soon enough, Roxie had jumped back into my lap, kissing all over my cheeks. “Look how versatile it is!” She said, pushing the bangs off my face and smoothing my short hair back onto my head. When I looked into the mirror I saw she was right—I could wear my hair both pushed back and swept forward. “You know what will look cute when you don’t want bangs in your face? Headbands!” She said excitedly. “But shit, guess I just spoiled my Christmas present.” She took my ear between her teeth and hooked my small hoop earring in them, tugging a bit, before releasing and moving her lips to kiss the now-bare space between my ears, all the while brushing my hair off my face and tucking a piece behind my ear with her long, slender fingers. Honestly, I was struggling to stay composed in that chair—I was close to coming from how incredible her warm lips felt on that cold, bare skin.
“Roxanne, I think you need to get off my chair and get a room,” Fran laughed. She was right—I personally couldn’t wait to get into bed with Roxanne as soon as possible. “Oh my,” Roxie said, sitting on my lap just brushing my waves with her fingers, “we are going to look so good together on the walk home! I mean….of course we always already did but…” “it’s going to be more of a sprint home!” I cut in, and shook my hair all around, feeling that odd sensation of it sweeping over my forehead. “That’s some Leo in Titanic meets Linda Evangelista realness right there,” Fran chimed in as Roxie carefully smoothed my waves over my forehead with her fingers. I’d never had bangs before, so Roxie’s gift of headbands would be useful.
“Okay, wait, one last little thing before you two disappear,” Fran interrupted as she slid open a drawer to get her phone out. “Picture time! You’re going to be a big hit on the shop’s Insta feed— I just know it.”
After the pictures were taken, Roxanne and I literally bolted back to our place. I thought I was fast, but I found myself getting dragged by her half the time as we raced to the apartment. The moment the door was shut, I pressed her against the wall, going right for her lips as her arms wrapped around me. Her hands naturally crawled up onto my head, ruffling through my short, blonde locks so fiercely as our lips locked. She was a bonfire now— raging with a passion that I’d never felt from her before. I swear, she nearly ripped the clothes off both of us!
Our spark carried on to the bedroom, where I carried her petite body to bed like I always did while her lips were still all over me. Our bodies tussled as we kissed, though she naturally found her way atop me like she always did, her long hair falling all over me and tickling my chest as she looked over from above. Feeling the shorn back of my head rub against the silk pillowcase, and feeling the silk all over my newly-bare neck and back felt divine. Her eyes were ravenous as she looked down on me— the conquered realm we had made in her perfect image. “Good lord, you are so fucking hot, Jo.”
“Not as gorgeous as you, beau-”
“No no, shh,” she leaned down, planting a finger on my lips. “Tonight is not about me. Tonight, it’s all about you.” Her hands found their way down under, and I sucked in a gasp. “You were such a big girl in that chair today,” she said so sweetly. I hummed the most pleasant tune hearing her praise me like that, and my heart just melted. She noticed that shift in my tone, and her smirk grew. “Do you like that? Being called a big girl?”
I hummed again, still breathless from her fingers’ venture. “I’m so proud of you. I know it was scary but you were so so brave. My strong, beautiful girl.”
Words can’t even describe what that night was like—I’ll leave it to your imagination. Suffice it to say, it was the wildest, most passionate sex I’d ever had. After some much-needed rest, I felt an odd tugging sensation on my head, and woke up to see Roxanne softly gazing into my eyes, twirling the short waves that fell over my forehead around her fingers and giving each wave a slight tug. I reached up to tighten my ponytail and—fuck! Instead was the clippered landscape that had replaced it. It felt incredible to touch, but also disorienting. “Oh my god,” I gasped as my hands explored the back of my head, “where is my hair?”
“Fuck, your shock is adorable,” Roxie giggled, and pulled my shorn head to hers by clasping it from behind, and pulling me into such a deep, deep kiss, petting my fuzzy nape as our tongues intertwined.
“Are you sure I look pretty, Roxie?” I fathomed the question after our lips parted, the reality of my new hair hitting me. “It’s so short!”
“Oh my god, Miss Joanna May Forrester,” Roxanne replied. “Am I sure you’re pretty? You’re the sexiest, most gorgeous thing in the world. So yeah,” she pulled me in closer once more, “I’m more than sure.” She dove in for another deep kiss, her hands still clinging dearly to my shorn head as I leant in.
And I felt secure again— like my world was safe and sound with her hands wrapped around me so tightly. There was a new me to contend with in the mirror, but at least I knew someone would help me fully appreciate every ounce of this revamped Joanna. It was when we retracted once more that I felt it all floundering again, remembering how this change was all on me. I was the only one who could carry this new version of myself, and I wasn’t always going to have Roxie there to hold onto me—although the more I thought about it, the more I always wanted her in my life.
“How’s my big, brave girl feeling?” she asked eventually, her hands on either side of my head as she was catching on to the uncertainty I was feeling.
“Naked,” I confessed. And it wasn’t just literal.
“Not used to feeling so exposed?” she teased as her fingernails found their way up to scratch the back of my neck. Less than a day as a pixie and I already felt addicted to being petted like a cat.
“I can’t hide anymore,” I pouted, even though it was the lamest excuse since my hair was always up in a ponytail anyway, and because that had been the point of this haircut. Feeling ready to be completely myself, completely open to the world about who I was. “Can you cover my head with your hair when I go to work today?” I asked as I grabbed her hair and threw all that length over my head so that it fell over my face as if it was my hair, ‘wearing’ her silky, red locks atop my head like a hat.
“Sure, babe. I’ll chop all of this off into a bob and give it to you to wear on your head. Most natural blondes look great as redheads, anyway,” she giggled.
“Would you really?” my face lit up, even though what she said had sounded so silly. But the thought of her with a bob was actually absurdly sexy, turning me on as I visualized those red stands grazing her shoulders or even brushing against her sharp jawline.
“I mean,” Roxanne pulled her hair off my head and started twirling it, “I could, but then you’d be robbed of your favorite toy, which you need more than ever now that you’ve traded in your own long locks for a sexy little mop, so I won’t do that to you.”
“Okay,” my lips turned back down to a pout as my spirits sank again. Stop pouting, I told myself, you wanted this haircut, and it’s badass. You’re simply adjusting. “But… can you do me a favour?”
“Anything for my big girl,” she said as she hopped into my lap so that she was straddling me, her arms wrapped around my bare neck. I looked up to see that sublime face looking down at me, along with her breathtaking tresses that adorned her like a brilliant wildfire. And suddenly what I initially wanted to ask just floated away. All I could think about was her— how perfect she was, and how everything just felt so aligned when we were together. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve Roxanne, but I just knew this was meant to be. And I fucking deserved this good a life. In that moment, just beholding and appreciating all there was to her, and how good and right she made me feel, something in me just clicked.
“I-” I took a breath as I faltered a little, but I knew I had to press on. “God, I wasn’t even planning this at all,” I continued rambling, not sure if I even had the guts to really say this. Was this too fast? Maybe, maybe not. “Look, I know we’ve been living together for a while, and I love being with you, and-” her face was starting to twist a little, and I realised I had to make my point, and I had to make it quick. She was going to catch on. Or should I just bail out? No, I can do this. But how? Ah- fuck it. “I knew from the first date that this is right. We just fit. You’re The One, babe. Will you marry me, Roxanne?”
It felt like the world had just stopped for the longest second in all eternity. Then she spoke. “Jo, babe, we’ve been together for six months, living together for three months. Don’t you think that’s… kind of soon?” There was genuine concern on her face, and in that moment I just wanted the ground to swallow me up. I’d bungled it. I sped this up way faster than I needed to. We were absolutely fine. I was happy with the way things were, but I guess I got greedy. And now she was probably questioning everything that had happened, doubting this relationship was-
“But, that being said…yeah I’ll fucking marry you.” She burst into a big grin and a laugh, and pulled me into her for a deep, deep kiss.
And then the puzzle was complete. Every shred of doubt in my bones just washed away so quickly, filling me with nothing but ecstasy. This was it. Roxanne was the one, and every bit of me knew it to be so. I loved Roxanne, and she loved me— and that’s all that mattered to spend the rest of our lives together. Wow. I’m gonna get married. To the woman of my dreams!
“I think you’d better call sick for work so we can plan your big entrance into the world as a short-haired girl… and celebrate some other stuff too, maybe,” she said, once we finally pulled apart from seemingly the world’s longest and grabbiest kiss.
Work was the last thing on my mind right now— all I could do was just stare at my fiancée. My fiancée— fuck, I could say that now! “I can’t believe it,”I was breathing a little heavily now, those words that came out of my mouth finally clicking. “We’re gonna get fucking married. You and me, Roxie,” I propped Roxie back up, straddling her again. “We should get rings. Today. Shit, is this really happening?”
“Yeah, you really have short hair now. No more long hair for you! It really happened,” Roxie teased, ruffling the top with one hand and rubbing the back up and down, the way people touch velvet, with the other hand. “Oh wait. That other thing,” she giggled, and I think this was overall probably the best reaction to an impromptu proposal I could’ve ever expected. “But yeah,” Roxanne continued as she was perched on my lap, “you and me. Getting married,” she ruffled my mop again— a feeling I don’t think I was ever going to get tired of. “Damn, chopping your hair off really made you bold!”
“I don’t even recognise myself anymore,” I looked up into those dreamy eyes. “Thank you… for this,” my voice dropped to a hush, remembering the haircut that started this chain of events. “I know I was really scared and jittery the whole time, but I needed it. I really don’t think I would’ve survived in Fran’s chair if you weren’t there holding my hand the whole time,” I expressed, pairing it with a kiss on her hand that was resting on my shoulder.
“Oh, don’t lie,” Roxanne chided as she lifted my chin with a hand. “I’m sure this is the most you can recognize yourself. When you see yourself in the mirror it’ll be a shock for a while, but you’ll finally be seeing yourself— not some Connecticut prep just playing by the rules others have set.” Her long, red hair was splayed all over my shoulder, which she tossed off and behind her own back, so she could plant a kiss on my bare collarbone. “I mean, you play by my rules, but those are meant to just push you to do things you already wanted to do. Like cutting that mousy hair off so I could do this.”
From her perch she swooped down and planted kisses onto my bare neck, all over, up the base of the back of my neck up to behind the ears, all around the border of my hairline, onto the front of my neck going down it, and all over my exposed collarbones.
I gasped as she took over me, gripping her body close— absolutely electrified by the way Roxanne took control of me. Almost every inch of me was exposed now, and every inch of it was owned by my crimson queen. Nothing else in the world mattered, except that I was present for her delight— and that was all I needed.
After another sumptuous tussle, Roxie sat back up. “Okay, after we both call our bosses and tell them we’re sick— and it’ll be a nasty cold so we will end up being sick tomorrow as well— why don’t we go out on the town to get those rings like you mentioned, then have a little photo shoot to mark the big changes that’ve come for both of us in the last day? I mean, major haircut news to commemorate…and I guess there’s other stuff too,” she proposed.
I hummed in agreement as I nodded. “Fuck,” Roxie bit her lip, “you’re going to look so sexy in all your clothes with your hair cut short…of course you’ve always been gorgeous, but your fashion sense was made to be paired with short hair.”
“Maybe yours is too,” I teased before biting Roxanne’s ear.
“Shut up,” Roxie sternly said, wrapping her long hair around my neck in strangulation like she always did to punish me. “Why don’t I make you wear some of my clothes, hm? That way I get to see the short hair look with my aesthetic?” Roxie toyed with her lover…fiancée,actually . Wow, that’s felt incredible to say.
“Babe, I’m way too tall for that to work,” I replied as I stroked through those red coils that asphyxiated me so seductively.
“Tell you what— you go get started in the shower first to warm it up for us, then wait for me in there while I pick out your clothes. Understood?” she instructed as she loosened the noose.
“Mhm,” I agreed, sitting myself up to finally get off the bed.
“Perfect,” Roxie said, “and make sure to wear a shower cap so you don’t ruin fran’s work. Oooh, it’s gonna be adorable to see that your hair will fit so neatly into the shower cap! And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll do your hair for you when you get out.”
“Sure thing, wifey,” I winked as I slid off, heading for the bathroom.
The shower was not as touchy as Roxanne wanted it— a showercap meant the fuzzy little realm on my head was out of bounds for a bit, though that didn’t stop her from being all over me in the warmth of the water. But I have to admit, when I took the cap off and saw myself in the mirror, I almost passed out in shock. Shock, tinged with recognition—seeing that girl in the mirror with her bold short hair was the most I’d ever felt like I was truly looking at myself.
Once we’d left the bathroom, she gestured to the bed, where there were two outfits laid out already. “I couldn’t choose for sure,” Roxanne said, chewing her lip. “They’re both so sexy in different ways. We’ve got the short flirty floral dress to really juxtapose with the tomboy crop, or the button-down shirt to show off that androgyny. Either will be paired with your leather jacket and doc martens, of course. What say you, little miss pixie?”
I surveyed the two choices closely— two rather core parts of my wardrobe, though now going to be worn a little differently. My eyes were leaning closer towards the floral dress, perhaps desiring something more feminine while I was still navigating how massively this new haircut changed my entire vibe. “I’ll take the dress,” I shyly said. “I think I wanna look extra pretty today,” I muttered.
“Awww you’re so cute saying that, as if you’re not the prettiest girl ever with your hair so short” Roxie said kissing the back of my neck again. I gasped, feeling the contrast between my cold neck and her warm lips.
I slipped the dress over my undergarments, then instinctively headed over to the mirror by the dresser to have a proper look. It was certainly the prettier option, but I also chose the more exposed option. Roxanne was clever. “Have a seat, big girl,” I heard her creep up behind me, patting both my shoulders. I lowered myself into the vanity stool, looking up at her tiny yet commanding figure through the mirror. “Let me do your hair and makeup for you,” she directed as she ruffled a hand through my hair, messing my waves up so deliciously.
I wanted to yelp in excitement, but I settled for the biggest and stupidest smile on my face. Having a professional makeup artist for a girlfrie- no, fiancee, was probably the greatest gift ever. I’d only ever really asked her to do me up from time to time, but when she insisted she do it for me— that’s when it’s really special. And so I sat there obediently, letting her work her magic. If there was someone I trusted to make me look extra pretty, it was definitely Roxanne.
After she tousled through my hair with her long fingers to make sure my waves neatly fell onto my forehead, I realised she hadn’t really dolled me up too much. “Won’t I need a bit more makeup to balance out this haircut being so boyish?” I asked as she turned my face from side to side.
“You don’t need more makeup to make you prettier— your natural beauty just shines through with so little hair,” she gave me a peck on the forehead. “Now, which of my dangly earrings do you wanna borrow for today now that your ears are on full display, before we buy some more for your new short haired-era?” She leapt in my lap, straddling me, while folding my ears over with her hands and kissing behind them. “And we must walk by the shop after we get the engagement rings, to show Fran,” she whispered into my ear. “I can’t wait to see the look on her face when we flash our jeweled fingers at her through the window!”