The Rose Blooms in June, part 2

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Maybe I’ll snip each curl one at a time, inch by inch, savouring each snippet as it tumbles down the cape. Would you like that?

I had felt alarmingly alive every time I checked my texts – and especially the one above, which was in response to a selfie I had sent to June after I had put a product in to enhance my natural waves into curls. It didn’t take much for them to spring up into coils.

Having someone in my DMs to feed me a constant stream of haircut fetish fuel had been the most fulfilling relationship I’d had in a decade. June showed me all the websites and best youtube accounts, which I drank in in a frenzy. Work was keeping us both busy, so we weren’t able to meet up again for the sex that I was suddenly insatiable for, but I would send her selfies and videos whenever my hair looked good… which it did, ironically a lot more now that I had resolved to have most of it cut off. I’d caption them with ridiculous tiktok-style text: “POV: you’re about to cut off as much of this delicious hair as you want to.” I hoped one of these selfies would have her marching over to my place with her haircut bag just to stop me from teasing her at work.

So had followed the most blissful ten days of my life. But it had all died down a couple of days ago now. I could tell her initial interest had waned. She was egging me on less and less. I worried she had found another fetishist to give her attention to. It was silly – we hadn’t agreed to be exclusive or anything. But I wanted her to be my barber, my service top, and to think of her with someone else was twisting me with jealousy.

To make matters worse, the dreams that had been reliably clockwork every night had stopped. Maybe… that was it? Maybe I was cured of the fetish. The fever had run its course.

That didn’t explain the way I would reach for both of my vibrators each night, plunging one inside me and circling the other over my clit in a frenzy as I imagined June giving me one of the dream haircuts I could still remember vividly.

It was a week after June had been dodging my messages and selfies that I got the text. I think we should talk.

Those words were never good together. My whole body hunched inward with the discomfort of it. I asked where, and she asked for directions to my place for after work. Another bad sign. She was going to let me down gently in a place easiest for me.

I could not concentrate for the rest of the day. I went home early after lunch and did nothing. I made cups of tea that I subsequently forgot and let go cold. I watched something stupid on the television though I couldn’t even keep track of even the main character’s name. I should have been excited to be seeing June again, since we hadn’t met up since the day of that haircut, but now my stomach churned with nausea.

June rang the doorbell about ten minutes earlier than she said she would. I checked the hall mirror for how I looked… definitely harried, I thought, but too late now.

“Rose,” June said, smiling through a knowingly guilty face. “You look incredible.”

I raised an eyebrow. Was she really trying it on after basically ghosting me? I would rather she just blurted out that she had found someone else right now. “Come in, then.”

June tottered in after me as I swept into the dining room. It was the most formal of the rooms downstairs, and if she was going to break up with me, I would rather she did it somewhere other than my favourite feel-sorry-for-myself sofa. That was where I wanted to be after she left.

I took the chair at the head of the dining table. A clock ticked expectantly in the background as she gazed around the room, clearly intimidated. “Take a seat,” I commanded.

“I’m sorry…” June perched on the next closest chair, and put her hands awkwardly in her lap.

“What did you want to speak about?” I asked, voice softer than before. I too was nervous about what she was going to say.

“I… it’s hard to explain. But I couldn’t continue on like I was without feeling like I was manipulating you.”

“You never manipulated me,” I replied, voice flat and measured. “Everything has been my own choice. I could have put a stop to any of it, if I had wanted to.”

June shook her head. “Maybe some of it. But your dreams… those were all from me. I found out at a young age that I could influence other people’s dreams as well as my own, and make things happen in them. I liked you, and I thought you might indulge in my own dreams about you… a silly fantasy where I could be someone else for you. Someone who might have a chance with you.”

My jaw must have been open for a few moments, because I had to close my mouth and swallow. “You made those dreams?”

June’s fingers tangled in her lap. “It’s always a bit frightening at first, and I’m sorry if you were scared. But you were open to it, and I got closer with you than I have ever been with anyone else. You waited for me… well, for Blake. You allowed more of me to come through each time. I wouldn’t have been able to get to you as easily without you wanting it. I waited for the first sign of resistance every time, but you didn’t.”

I gazed at her. I had been so confused, but so turned on by those dreams. Yet they had opened me up to the true realisation of my fetish, even if they were unsettling. And if the subject was a man. “Why Blake, though?”

June grimaced. “I thought you were straight. I wasn’t your hairdresser, either. It made more sense that way. I didn’t know he would be a creep about it though. I’m sorry.”

My heart was beating fast in my chest. I fully understood why she had done it, even if it did make me wonder about consent and what counted in dreams. But how was more interesting to me right now. “So… what are you? Magic? Superhero? An alien from another galaxy?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, smiling at my flippant comment. “I’ve never told anyone. I didn’t want to be anyone’s research subject.”

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” I mused, shaking my head. “You know this is my fantasy too. You couldn’t have… manufactured that out of nowhere? It’s always been there, but you might have awakened me to it. If you’ll pardon the pun.”

“Yes.” June bowed her head in shame. “I admit I also withdrew because part of me wanted to see if you still wanted me to cut your hair, even without me riling you up in your DMs. I should have been upfront with you from the start, but I… really wanted you to like me. I thought you knowing the truth might turn you off me.”

“Knowing you gave me the most incredible sex dreams where you acted out your haircut fantasies on me just makes me hotter for you,” I declared boldly. The words rang out for a moment in my uptight dining room. It had never heard such a phrase in its life.

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course I do,” I replied, softer this time.

June’s eyes teared up in relief, and I melted for her. I slid out of my chair and stooped by her, tucking her hair behind her ear. My fingers grazed stubble in front of her ear… and I realised the higher undercut in the dream was in fact real. “Darling girl,” I whispered, “You have continually been so considerate that I could never fault you.”

She drew herself up on my proffered hand. “You don’t know how glad you’ve made me,” she replied, tangling her fingers in mine. “You know how hard it was not to DM you back when you sent those selfies of your hair all like that?”

I bit my lip against the smile I could barely help. It was easy to settle right back into flirting. She made me feel so young again. “I can’t believe you shaved your undercut higher and didn’t even tell me,” I retorted. I let my hand wander up her nape and stroked the bristles above the curve on the back of her head, until her silver hair filled the valleys of my fingers.

“Do you like it, then?” Her eyes were shaded with lust.

“I love it. All the fun of long hair and short hair.”

“I had it done that afternoon, after we spoke… I went back into work later when Blake’s appointments were over and the owner offered to touch up my hair.”

The undercut was so addictive to touch. My attention was also making June’s eyes close in pleasure. “Did someone inspire you to go shorter?”

“Something like that,” she purred. “I was honestly so turned on after getting to finally connect with you – and not even just the sex, but meeting another fetishist who I was already attracted to – that I knew I needed to freshen up my hair before giving you the dream you deserved.”

“Oh,” I blushed deeply, letting the flattery go straight to my head. I thought back to the June from that dream, and how dominant she had been, and how she had chopped off my hair as if it were nothing. “That was a very good dream.”

She smirked and raised an eyebrow, and I melted for her, but then her expression became serious again. “Oh, another thing. I spoke to Lucinda, the owner, about what Blake had done, and the inappropriateness of his behaviour, and this is his last week working at the salon.”

“Oh!” I was shocked. Blake had overstepped the line, but losing his job over just me seemed a lot. “You didn’t have to do that on my account.”

“I was a witness, and in my view he made unwelcome sexual advances to a long-time client. It was a breach of trust. Apparently it’s not the first time it’s happened, and he’s been warned in the past. When it’s reciprocated, it’s… not official salon policy, but we turn a blind eye. But seeing as you’re a lesbian.” She shrugged. “I had to report it to Lucinda either way, since I took time away from the salon to comfort an upset client.”

“You did an excellent job,” I thought back to that fateful series of self-discoveries.

“Why thank you, Rose,” she replied, before stroking her undercut herself. “I should really get this shaved again. I’d love you to feel it when it’s fresh.”

“Mmmm.” Imagining what it would be like to touch if it were just cut was so erotic.

“Maybe I should give you an undercut so you can feel it for yourself. It’s one thing on someone else, but when it’s on your head it’s different.”

Warmth rushed into my lips at this prospect, but I still had questions for her. “How short do you have it usually? Do you… shave it with a razor?”

June laughed at my eagerness. “I can have it shaved to the skin, after it’s been buzzed with the clippers, if you’d like?”

When I realised she was seriously offering me that decision, my tongue temporarily lost the ability to form words at the very thought of it. “Um… I think that would be… I mean… if it’s not too inconvenient…” I felt myself growing more flustered by the second. This was unfamiliar territory for me.

June put a finger to my stammering lips. “Come now, Ms Hargrave. Tell me what you’d like me to do.”

I took a deep breath, drawing my energy from the way I could command a room at work to pay attention to me. I was fine demanding things to be done to me, but needed to gain some confidence in the other direction when it came to things outside the office. “Before the next time we meet, I want you to have your undercut shaved to the skin, so I can touch it while I fuck you.”

June’s cheeks pinked. “Of course, Ms Hargrave.”

There was only smooth hairless skin cupped in both of my hands a few days later. I was in the midst of giving June an earth-shaking orgasm, dancing my fingers over the baldness of her undercut, still daringly high, as her clit slid left and right under my fingers, slick with her own arousal.

After, she lay back, too incapacitated to return any favours. I was in no rush to have my turn, since it was the highest form of flattery to my sexual prowess that she could barely lift an arm afterwards. Instead I curled up next to her, finger-combing her long hair out of the way. “You are gorgeous, June,” I murmured to her.

I was so glad I had asked to go along to watch June have her undercut shaved. Seeing June caped up, a rubber mat on her shoulders, with her long hair pinned up had been arousing enough, but the raw sound of the clippers as they carved off what I had thought was already a short undercut was enough to send me over the edge. I don’t think I took a single breath when the shaving foam and razor came out, and Lucinda had tilted her head down in a submissive pose to receive the shave I had requested.

“Next time, perhaps we should try exposing this undercut a bit. I’d love to take up this length in the back and sides. A change to spice things up in the salon.” Lucinda had told her, holding her hands up level with the top of June’s ears.

I had practically gushed at that comment.

“You still want me to cut your hair, don’t you?”

Back in the present, I ran my hands down my own length. When Blake had started cutting three inches off, I had been so upset. I used to have a strong sense of identity as the “long-haired woman” that I was scared I would lose a part of myself.

But was that still true? June had been helping me come to a decision. Her implanted dreams felt so realistic that I was able to recognise that her cutting my hair gave me nothing but positive feelings now. But perhaps it was just the euphoria of dreaming. It could be an awfully long time to regrow my hair to this length if I didn’t like it.

In a way, I had been losing parts of myself since I had got to know June. I had lost my spinsterhood, my shame around my fetish, my unhealthy obsession with work, and my several-year streak of celibacy. If I added “long hair” to that list, would it truly matter to me? At this stage, it felt like it did not. I couldn’t keep clinging to it like a security blanket.

I admitted I did love whenever June would play with my length, putting it into updos or plaiting it, or just passing it through her hands like a rope. But the imagined feeling of having it cut into a completely different style was enough to make me immediately wet, even more each day. The fetish had only surged stronger.

“I think you’ve made me wait for long enough,” I replied, teasing her with light touches down her stomach. Her hips rose every time my hand edged closer to her pussy.

June shot me a look of frustration, before batting my hand away and piercing me with one of her wicked stares. “Then perhaps the real question I should ask is… do you want to choose your haircut, or should I just give you one?”

Oh. I had been wondering about this, too. Even though we tended to have a particular dynamic – with her being the service top to my power bottom – having my own choice did not sound as erotic an experience this time. I wanted it to feel like the dreams, but I also was scared by the idea of a blank cheque. That could mean losing everything. And I had a good job, where I was known for an immaculate presentation.

She must have realised my conundrum, because she added, “I can, of course, let you have veto power on anything you’re not sure of.”

That sounded safer. It would still be her choice, but I would not come out upset if it was something I wasn’t ready for. My brain added ‘yet’ to that statement. I nodded.

“Good girl. I’ll send you a drive folder. Delete any you don’t like, and I can choose from the remaining options.”

The folder I received an email invitation to edit had well over a hundred hairstyles within. I scrolled through them all over my lunch break when I was – thankfully – working from home.

I made three folders within, titled “yes”, “not yet”, and “no”, before lying back on my bed and seeing which ones turned me on the most.

Not all of them were short, but the majority of them were above the shoulders. I figured she had added the long ones to give me the option of backing out. It was kind, but I had been building up to this, and didn’t want to end up disappointed after all this anticipation.

The five long styles went immediately into the “no” folder, and I laughed at myself for doing so. A month ago I would have thought myself mad for thinking long layers or even something sitting at collarbone length would be too “long” for me, especially since I was convinced I loved my long hair and never wanted more than a quarter of an inch off at one time.

The shortest ones did make my mouth dry. There were a few buzzcuts of slightly different lengths, and even one that was shiny bald. It wasn’t that the thought of it didn’t cause a flare of arousal down below, because they all did, but there was also the aspect where I was sure none of those would suit me. I wanted to experience clippers edging up over the top of my head someday, but perhaps not now. Even clippers at my nape sounded like heaven. I put almost all of those in the “not yet” folder.

That left a sizeable portion remaining to be sorted. I sent a few to the “no” folder for being too “can I speak to the manager” or middle-aged mumsy.

Now I was faced with a lot of choice left, all of which I felt okay about. Several of the pictured styles were very short, definitely clippered on the sides. None of them looked like I could be mistaken for straight, which was quite appealing as a change. I could see skin on some. My vibrator convinced me that was something I could handle. I left a chin-length bob in the mix, one with a slightly graduated back. I could almost feel the steel scissors on the back of my neck already, snipping away over a foot of hair that would fall away to the floor in limp coils. I shuddered in pleasure.

I tried not to favour any above the others, but the shortest ones consumed my thoughts. June would have to stroke her clippers around my ears, shearing away anything that came close to them. It would be terrifying bliss.

I checked to make sure that the top was long enough to style on all of them. One looked a bit short at maybe two inches long, but it looked so soft and tactile on the model. Reckless arousal took control, and I emailed June back before I could change my mind.

“Nothing long in your “yes” options,” June noted when she called me that evening. “You’re going to lose a lot of hair regardless of the cut I give you.”

Unexpected anxiety bristled up inside me. Picturing the hair in piles on the floor suddenly made it feel quite real. I was worried I was making the wrong choice after all, but I didn’t think telling June was a good idea. If she thought I was hesitating, she might make me wait longer, and I didn’t know how long I could resist holding off my fetish. “Think how much hair you’ll get to snip off. Do you know which one you’ll choose?”

June’s glee was evident in her voice. “Well, I’ve noticed my favourite style for you is in the “yes” folder. I’ll see how I feel on the day. Maybe I’ll be kinder and let you keep more.”

My heart skipped a beat as she hung up.

I found myself in June’s chair sooner than I thought. It was the first time I was visiting for my own haircut in a while, and it immediately felt different to be there for someone other than Blake. June had booked me in with her as a surprise, texting me at work and telling me to come to the salon. There was nothing I could do to resist.

June had taken my jacket as she usually did, but this time with the knowing hands of a lover. The silky salon gown replaced it, and she took every chance to tease along my sensitive inner arms and over my neck as she helped me into it, tying it with a spark in her eyes.

She walked me over to the washing station, leaned my chair back, and ran the pleasantly warm water over my hair.

“Is that comfortable for you, Ms Hargrave?”

I smirked at the formality of my surname, knowing that to anyone else, it would sound completely innocent. “It’s wonderful,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound too husky. I was aware Lucinda was also here. It was best to keep things from getting too heated in public, if only because I already wanted June to strip me out of my clothes and have me in her barber chair, and she hadn’t even touched her scissors yet.

Her hands caressed shampoo into my wet hair, deliberately erotically. She could get away with it here, tantalising me with the wet sounds of my own long hair as she massaged the week’s events away. I relaxed into her hands. A rinse, and then a conditioner was applied. June was making me feel so turned on with every single one of her touches, and I wondered if she did this for all her clients, or just the ones she was dating.

Too soon, the wash was over. My hair weighed down heavily with water. June squeezed it out, twisting a little too tightly against my scalp, which I could tell was for my benefit. She towelled out the most of the water from my hair, but that was not the only place I was wet.

On returning to the chair, June gently combed through my damp hair, drawing it out into smooth lines. This was something I would miss a lot – the feeling of my long hair being combed and brushed and played with. It made me feel so feminine.

“Just a trim,” June told me, not phrasing it as a question. I hadn’t asked her for anything in particular yet, but I knew this was all it would be for today. She had told me she wanted to trim my hair before she properly cut it. For a long time, even before we connected, she’d held out hope that one time she would get to, even though Blake was my regular stylist.

Her long fingers rested on my shoulder, grazed my collarbone, and edged down discreetly to the top of my breast. There was barely a graze before her hand withdrew, but it reminded me of the other night and I deliberately ran my tongue along my lips. She raised an eyebrow in response. “Ready?”

I nodded, not in the slightest bit ready.

She sectioned off the top half of my hair, carving a line with her comb above my ears and brushing it upwards, gathering it into a large clip. “Your hair’s so thick,” she commented, and I knew even though she had told me this in private before that she was trying to find ways of turning me on without suspicion. “You know, if you ever wanted an undercut, you could easily have one without looking as if your hair was any thinner.”

I squirmed. She really had me wrapped around her finger. Trying to sound off-hand, I replied, “I’ve thought about having an undercut shaved in, but I don’t know if I could get away with it at my age.” Saying the word “shaved” made me feel like I’d just said something explicit, but it was probably a word that passed through this shop hundreds of times of day without anyone’s underwear getting flooded.

June made a show of looking interested and stroked her hand through the hair at my nape. “Would you like me to shave a little undercut for you today? Just an inch or two.”

I blushed deeply. Did she mean it? Did she want me to say yes? I stalled quickly. “I’m not sure. What does it feel like?”

She bent down, took my hand in hers, and guided it to her nape, which had grown in a bit since she’d had it razored clean. It grew so fast, that was the trouble. I couldn’t resist giving her a lingering rub. “Mmm, I do like that…”

June gave me a wry smile and whispered so only I could hear, “Tell me not to. I want to cut your long hair completely pristine on the real day.” She raised her voice again. “It’s cooler in the summer, too.”

Just at that point, Lucinda came over, and looked at me with curiosity. “An undercut would look lovely on you. There’s no such thing as being too old for a hairstyle. I think you should go for it.”

Lucinda was an incredibly difficult woman to say “no” to. She had a different haircut every time I came in, it seemed. Over the years, I’d seen her with a high 80s flattop like the singer in Desireless (I’d watched the video to “Voyage Voyage” enough times, for some inexplicable reason), a “Rachel”, and a buzzcut – but today it it was a curled 1940s do. She was older, possibly ten years my senior, with attractive crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. I wished I could be as adventurous as her with my hair – but then it dawned on me that I could be. But whatever appetite I had been brewing immediately bottomed out. I didn’t think I would ever be ready.

“I’m not sure I want one today. I’m not very spontaneous about major hair decisions like this. I’ll think about it for another time. Thank you for your advice, though.”

Lucinda shrugged, glancing at June, and went back to tidying her station. It was very much the look of someone who had meant to convey a silent “I tried”. Little did she know what June had planned for my next haircut. It would be considerably more than a small undercut.

The scissors were in June’s hands now, signalling to me that there would be no further delays. I didn’t think I had ever seen her cut someone’s hair before except in my dreams, but this was real life. I sat as neutrally as I could, but longed for her to be closer.

Her comb smoothed down the nape section, and she pinched the ends between her fingers. I heard the metal of the scissors open, followed by a soft snipping. The first cut had been made. I held my breath as she ran her fingers down from the back of my neck to the ends, and another snip. I could tell by the sound of the scissors that she was only taking off the bare minimum, but it didn’t matter. I was already in a state of bliss.

June took her time, making each snip as intimate as she could, deliberately stroking over my ears in tingling light touches. It was erotic, but it was more than that; at its heart it was the most romantic act anyone had ever done for me.

June unclipped the upper layer of my hair, and then began to comb the tangles out. “Can I pass you your drink?”

I smiled, having completely forgotten the glass of lemonade on June’s workstation that had formed a layer of condensation on the outside. In my defence, the matter of my girlfriend cutting my hair had formed quite the distraction. Our hands met on the glass. “Thank you.” I took a sip, noting there was a refreshing taste of gin added to the drink. We locked eyes in the mirror, and a trace of amusement crossed my mouth. Gin had become a kind of code in our relationship. I knew what was in store for us later.

The scissors returned to her hands, and June resumed trimming the upper layer of my hair. Her skill with scissors, even for the simplest of trims, was artistic. She wielded them with all the grace of someone who had been holding scissors her entire life, and she made me feel like a work of art that she was perfecting. Her comb lifted and manipulated my hair in exact lines like I could never achieve, and that level of attentiveness translated to a sexual power beyond measure.

With each shower of tiny snippets she sent into my lap, I grew increasingly turned on. At this rate, I worried that my wetness would seep through my suit trousers. June was closer now, her body that I craved touching the chair. If I were bolder, I could have reached out and run my hand over the zip of her jeans, but I had already spied Lucinda watching us from across the salon and had to resist the temptation. Her hands came into view, fingers curled around the scissors in the most wonderful shape. Soon I knew those same fingers would be linked into me. God.

She wiped away a snippet of my hair stuck to her knuckle. At that action, that display of how insignificant she considered the hair that had once been attached to me, I almost let out a moan. But I had to remind myself this was not one of the dreams June was implanting in my head, and that really letting out a moan with Lucinda present would be mortifying.

June seemed to be reaching the end of the cut now, checking everything lined up perfectly. Her comb pulled through my thick hair, and she made snips here and there to even up what already looked perfect.

Under the sound of the hair dryer, June leaned down and murmured in my ear, “I can’t wait to feel how wet you are after this.”

I took a deep breath in, already struggling to keep myself from unbuttoning her shirt then and there. The front of it hung dangerously close. “At yours?”

June straightened up, getting a start on blow-drying my hair straight. The hot air was competing with my arousal for heating my face, and I felt I could double as a storage radiator at the rate this was going. A nod and a lick of her lips told me all I needed to know.

I could tell neither of us could wait until we found somewhere more private. June’s flat was closer – enough that we could probably make it there without undressing each other in the street. I was aching for her touch. Eventually, the hair dryer silenced. It wasn’t at all immodest to admit I looked stunning in June’s mirror as I admired the shining movie star blow-dry she had crafted. I just had to pay, and then we would be free.

“June,” Lucinda called over to her as she was helping me out of the gown. “Ms Hargrave is your last client of the day, correct?”

June glanced apologetically to me, trying not to let her disappointment show. “Yes, do you need me for something?”

Lucinda swivelled her chair around in June’s direction. “How about a haircut, to celebrate? I’m promoting you to senior stylist.”

I tried not to let my surprise and joy show too clearly on my face. This was incredible news for June, and I really wanted to hug her at that moment – beyond the shot of adrenaline that pumped through me when I realised the transformation that I was going to be here to witness, I was proud of her. But I maintained a distance, as I must, since we were attempting to keep things discreet for now.

It was all happening so fast – June was already climbing into the chair, with Lucinda’s cape encircling her. It was odd, I thought, that Lucinda always used a cape for June rather than one of the salon gowns, but then I considered that perhaps it made more sense with haircuts that required clippers to use a cape, as they were much tighter around the neck. All I knew for certain was that June looked adorable in it, and her silver hair was so striking draped over the black cape.

I realised at that point that I had not paid yet, my jacket was still in the back room, and my stylist was under the cape. I opened my mouth to ask what I should do, but then knew that I needed to watch this. The excuse of waiting to pay was perfect. I settled down in the waiting area with the remains of my gin and lemonade, where there was an excellent view of Lucinda’s station, and tried to fade into the background.

“Did you like the idea of what we discussed last time?” Lucinda asked her, completely oblivious to my presence.

June only nodded. Her excitement was electric in the air, and sent a jolt straight from her wide eyes flashing over to me to my pussy.


Lucinda wasted no time at all combing June’s long silver hair, which fell to bust-level. The natural waves in it straightened out with ease until it lay smoothly over the cape.

She did not dawdle or delay for even a moment, but immediately took up a large pair of scissors and cut a blunt gap high up into the silver curtain hanging down her back. Long lengths over twelve inches detached and piled onto her shoulders, before Lucinda combed them off onto the floor. Just like that, June’s hair was set on the path to becoming short. The next cut brought Lucinda around to June’s left-hand side, blocking my view, but I could hear the loud scrunches of the scissors easily chopping away all the length that hung below the tops of her ears.

When she shifted to the other side, I realised this was short. The undercut beneath that had been hidden, discoverable only by my wandering hands or on the rare occasion she put her hair up, now was on full display. It had grown out with a week’s growth now, showing the dark roots under the cap of neatly truncated silver. June’s hair had often fallen onto me during passionate moments, and it now it would only have this one last fall to the floor, completely detached in defeat. I might miss that part, but this new short length was definitely hot.

“Oh, Ms Hargrave!” Lucinda said, pausing in her cropping of my girlfriend. “You’re still here.”

I gave a nervous laugh that was unlike me. “You had June in the chair before I could pay,” I explained. I was half expecting her to chuck me out for being a voyeuristic creep.

Lucinda smiled warmly. “I could take your payment if you like. But you’re welcome to stay, of course.”

I didn’t want to seem overly eager to stay, but I also did not want to miss this. “I’m in no rush,” I replied briefly. “I was just finishing my drink.”

“Of course.” Lucinda was suspiciously brief on the matter, returning only a smile that might have disguised amusement. I wondered whether she had an inkling of what was going on between us. I had thought we were being subtle, but perhaps she knew more than she was letting on. I supposed, “I know you’re fucking,” wasn’t quite the kind of salon chatter Lucinda wanted to foster. But that option was far preferable to the one where she knew I had a haircut fetish.

From the former long silver waves, Lucinda was carving out an edgier side to my girlfriend. With every cut she was baring more and more of her to me, and I could not help a breathy moan escape my throat as Lucinda combed the last dangling pieces over June’s forehead and snipped them into a row of thick bangs, sending a cascade of shining waves spilling into her lap.

Lucinda tousled the freshly cropped mushroom of hair that now fell over the dark stubble of the undercut. “That’s already so much better, isn’t it?”

June smiled, and with her cheeks free of framing hair I could admire a new, sharper jawline. “It’s amazing how much fresher I feel. Blake always said that longer hair suited me, but going short again was the best decision.”

Again? I wondered whether June had any pictures of old short haircuts that she’d had. I had never had my hair shorter than a chin-length bob I had when I was very young – too young to even remember it being cut. I’d grown it long all through childhood, thwarted from growing it long enough to sit on by the trims where my mother would have several inches chopped off at a time, always cutting it back to around my shoulder blades.

I also found myself intrigued, and perhaps disturbed, by the fact that Blake had been the one to keep June’s hair long. What a jerk.

“I always questioned Blake’s taste. We can redo your roots next week if you want,” Lucinda stroked her hand over the new short length. “Unless you’re bored of the colour?”

“I’m not sure yet,” June responded.

“Well, we can always let you grow out your natural colour for a bit and then take it shorter to lose the silver? Or…” Lucinda lifted the clippers from their mount on the wall, “just shear it all off now?”

Suddenly I wished I were invisible, because at that moment a shudder of pleasure went through me involuntarily. The clippers were actually in Lucinda’s hand. She could just shear off all of the cute floppy hair I hadn’t yet had a chance to play with. I really did like this length on June, but Lucinda’s casual way of throwing around words that fueled my fetish was doubly arousing.

“Not today,” June shrugged. “The silver does look good on me.”

“The silver looks great on the cape, too,” Lucinda replied with a squeeze of June’s shoulder and a devilish smile. “So, razor shave on the undercut again? Or do you want it faded?”

I desperately wanted June to look over at me, but she was fully ignoring me. It was for the best, frankly, because I wouldn’t have been able to resist her. She turned her head this way and that in the mirror. “What do you reckon?”

“I think we should shave it,” Lucinda responded, and nudged June’s head down, lifting the mushroom of hair with her hand and driving the clippers up the back. “The avant-garde look works so well on you.”

June silently relinquished her fate to Lucinda’s hands. My face by now must have been bright red with the domination happening right before me. I relished seeing June submissive to Lucinda again.

Dark fuzz built up on the clipper blades, before Lucinda flicked it off into the cape. Her scalp gleamed as it was freed of the covering of short hair. She buzzed away the darker hair from June’s sideburns and left almost nothing in its wake. I tried to imagine what the clippers might feel like on my own head. The trimmers had been ecstasy on my pussy, but I hoped I would find out soon enough. The clippers edged dangerously close to the longer hair. Fuck.

Lifting her remaining hair, Lucinda applied several clips to keep it out of the way, and then brushed her fingertips over the barest layer of stubble. “There’ll be no hiding this now. Let’s get you properly shaved.”

A squirt of shaving cream piled into Lucinda’s hand, and she smothered the back and sides of my girlfriend’s head with it. The razor came out, a fresh blade equipped, and with gentle motions Lucinda began to shave it clean.

It was then I noticed I had almost finished my drink. The excuse of staying was dwindling, and watching this all transpire was thirsty work. I knew I would need something to quench my desire, for the gin in my drink had brought my arousal far closer to the surface than usual.

The razor rasped over the stubble on the back of June’s head. It felt like it was the only sound in the salon. The amount of scalp being bared was slightly overwhelming. I would be able to stroke it later while I set her to task on something else.

Lucinda let down the top, covering the bald undercut by an inch or so. “With your natural waves I need to take off weight from the top so it won’t poof out at the first sign of humidity.”

June nodded, and Lucinda produced a pair of jagged thinning shears. She began a rhythm of chopping into the waves and then combing through to follow, sending a shower of loose hair with it. From my perspective, it looked like masses of hair was coming off – but it only seemed to make her hair lie flat, effectively removing any trace of curl from it. I wondered if June would have to use those on my thick hair. The process looked so hot, like her hair was being hacked into indiscriminately. Uneven fragments of hair kept being combed off her head into her lap, some relatively long – but still, I hoped Lucinda would leave her some thickness so I could lose my hand in her hair.

When Lucinda was finished thinning what was left of June’s hair, it hung neatly, and was for all intents and purposes straight. Her forehead was obscured by a textured mop of silver that made me feel a certain way to look at. She looked edgier, more boyish, but no less like my hot girlfriend who was going to take me home and do unspeakable things to me.

Lucinda’s eyes turned onto me. “What do you think, Ms Hargrave?”

She was putting me on the spot, and I could not help feeling like she was doing so on purpose. “Oh, er…” I bit my lip. “It’s rather striking.”

A smile spread across the salon owner’s lips as she watched me struggle. “Something you could pull off quite well, I think, if you’d ever let go of that safety blanket?”

“Don’t scare her off.” June rolled her eyes, though she shot a smirk in my direction. “I’d quite like to keep her as my client.”

I didn’t know what was hotter – Lucinda’s suggestion, the new heavy bangs my girlfriend looked out at me from under, or June claiming me as her client. She was freed from the cape, and as soon as she could, raised her hand to her bald nape, stroking up and into the softened shock of hair hanging over it.

“Ms Hargrave,” June called over to me.

I was on my feet for her in moments, approaching her with magnetic devotion. I could have almost forgotten that Lucinda was here. “Yes?”

June’s eyes narrowed with arousal. She knew the effect she was having on me, but part of me recognised that she was afire with the power her own reflection gave her. “Let me get your jacket for you, and then I can take that payment.”

I was speechless as she went to fetch my suit jacket from the back room.


I turned to look over at Lucinda, and felt my cheeks warm to see her sweeping up June’s long hair into a pile.

“I hope you don’t mind my comments. I know you’re a long-time client here and I don’t mean to cause any offence.”

“Oh!” I gave an overly casual laugh. My mind flickered to Blake, and how Lucinda had fired him for crossing the line with me. I wondered if she had been testing me somehow. “No, there’s no offence. I know I tend to play it safe with my hair.”

Lucinda leant the broom against her chair and approached me. I didn’t know whether to shrink back or just allow whatever it was to happen, but the moment she touched my hair, my muscles would not obey even if I had wanted them to. She swept it back above my ears, pursing her lips as she surveyed me with an analytical eye. “You’ve played it safe for long enough. You’re holding yourself back with all this hair. Your natural beauty deserves to shine.”

I had never wondered about Lucinda’s sexuality before, but between the flirty comments with June and this moment, she was giving me strong bi energy tonight. A satisfied smile spread across her face as she noticed me blushing even more. “I’ll think about it,” I replied at last.

Lucinda’s eyes softened, and her hands stroked through my hair. “Don’t think too long. I would love to give you a transformation haircut. I have just the cut in mind for you.”

Just at that moment, as my brain almost short-circuited with the prospect of allowing the flirtatious Lucinda free rein over my hair, June returned with my suit jacket, wearing her leather biker jacket. Whatever excitement Lucinda had caused, it was nothing to the way my eyes flared to see her like that, cropped short and with all the swagger of the June from my dreams. Lucinda’s hands had withdrawn from my hair as soon as she’d heard the door swing open, before she resumed sweeping up the hair.

June marched over to the till and helped me into my suit jacket, and I knew that Lucinda never had the shadow of a chance with me when June was anywhere near. June’s new haircut opened up her whole face, exposed her pierced ears, and did something I didn’t know was possible to my clit. But before I could get any sexual attention, there were practical things to get through – I tapped in the numbers on the card payment machine, giving June a tip of more than the haircut was worth. That made it the most expensive trim I had ever had, but I did not care at all. I could only think about what we would do when we got to June’s flat.

The night air was cool, and I imagine it would be even cooler against June’s naked nape. She walked a little taller and admired herself in reflective surfaces. It was nice to see her so confident, and felt even better when she grabbed my hand halfway along the street and linked fingers with me.

“I knew I wanted to get the longer hair cut off at some point, but I kind of wish it hadn’t been on the day I did your trim,” June admitted quietly as we walked past all the glowing shopfronts.

“I don’t know,” I replied in a low voice, “I personally found a lot to enjoy there.”

“Yeah,” June sighed, “but I was already so… ready after getting to trim your hair.” I could tell she would have used a different word had we not been in public.

The absolute rush of June trimming my hair and how intimate she had made it had not yet dimmed, even though June’s drastic restyle was more recent. “Mmm.”

“I felt like my haircut overshadowed the meaning of your trim – the first time I got to cut your hair.” June’s face wrinkled up in irritation. “Lucinda can be a lot, sometimes.”

“She truly can,” I said, and relayed the conversation she’d had with me while June had been elsewhere.

“Wow,” June laughed. “She tried to pinch you from me?”

I raised my eyebrows. “You know I could never give her the time of day with you around.”

“You’d better not,” replied June playfully, running her thumb down my wrist and into my palm discreetly. “Not far now.”

The desire in me burned hotter. The walk to June’s flat seemed so much further than it had done before.

Soon enough, June was fumbling with her keys in the door, a human sense of frustration and mild embarrassment as she jiggled the stuck lock. My hands covered over hers and twisted the key firmly, opening it effortlessly.

As soon as we were up the stairs and barely in the door of her flat, June had me against the wall, pinned and breathless as she slipped my jacket off again and deftly undid the buttons of my blouse. “Good thing my buttons didn’t give you as much trouble as your own front door,” I teased her.

June’s mouth twisted in mock irritation, but I kissed her, running my fingers up the back of her nape until she was more than placated. I loved having no hair to contend with as I stroked around her ears, feeling just smooth scalp. In response, those fingers that had so recently trimmed my hair in the most sensual way were now brushing over my hips, feeling through the thin material of my suit trousers.

The tension eased as June unfastened my trousers, easing them down and off before I had even stepped out of my shoes. Who was I to complain, though? My hand that was still on her head pushed it down, bowing her down to where I wanted her to be.

She got to her knees without question, running her nose teasingly over my lacy underwear, before she removed it slowly, freeing my pussy to her warm breath. The fabric dropped down to my ankles, just as she rubbed her short hair over my thighs. I was already soaking wet, enough that she had to catch my juices on her tongue as they dripped from my labia. I let out a moan almost immediately, for the combined pleasure of running my hands through her short hair as her mouth grew ever closer to my clit was too much already.

As skilled as June was with her hands, she was even more so with her mouth, it transpired. She rolled my clit with between her lips, darting her tongue out to caress me with light flicks, amidst a full spectrum of kissing and sucking. I had never been pleasured like this before, so hungrily, so devotedly. My legs started to weaken, and I didn’t know if I could continue to stand any longer. I was already coming into her mouth after such a long buildup over the two haircuts, and my legs opened and sank down as she withdrew, catching me in her arms and letting me down to the floor carefully.

“We should find a bed,” I breathed, heat clouding my mind and thumping in my chest.

“Luckily I have one of those in my bedroom,” she smiled mischievously, and helped me to my feet.

I shed my remaining clothes on the way there, assisted by June, who had only kicked off her shoes, still in her leather jacket as in my dream. I loved being more naked than her, and being powerless for her – and the power that gave me.

The windows were already open, letting in a cool, fresh breeze that felt like a blessing on my skin burning up with lust. She pushed me down, and I let her climb on top of me.

“Did you like me snipping away at the ends of your hair?”

“Yes.” I tilted my hips more so that I could have more contact with her jeans. “I never wanted you to stop.”

“You can see why I wanted to make you wait for the proper haircut, can’t you?”

My hips rocked into her leg, almost involuntarily. “It was so fucking hot. You could have… cut it all off…”

Her fingers touched my lips, and I took one of them in my mouth, running my tongue over it slowly. June remained in control, though, and murmured, “Would you like me to fuck you with my strap-on?”

My breath came out ragged as I nodded my consent. She withdrew for a moment, unzipping her jeans and stepping out of them, fitting a strap-on she produced from a drawer into an opening in her underwear, and shrugged her leather jacket off. I was so desperate for her strap to fill me that I grabbed at her shoulder as she returned to bed, pulling her onto me. I wanted to forcibly take it into me, but she put a hand on my chest to halt me.

“Wait for it,” she purred.

I obeyed, opening myself to her, ready and exposed. Slowly she let her strap enter my slick cunt. I felt fragile under her, but I wanted more, and gave a nod to her to push deeper. It pressed in, gradually penetrating until her hips touched down on mine.

She bit her lip, her cockiness accentuated by the short ruffled hair. “From now on, I decide how much hair you are allowed to have, and how much I want to take from you.”

I moaned, begging her to fuck me, craving the haircut that seemed so far away and yet all too soon. Her hips pulled the strap out, and then plunged it back in, beginning the rhythm I needed deep within. Her short hair flopped forward over her eyebrows with each thrust into me. My pussy pulsed around the strap, melting away all the friction with thick fluid, until exhausted and buzzing with the emotional release, I collapsed safe in her arms.

I felt the hair being shifted and smoothed off my cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” she sighed into my ear, cuddling up behind me.

“Will you still find me as beautiful when you’ve cut off my hair?” I asked, sobering slightly as I thought of the days ahead.

“I’ll barely be able to keep my hands off you if this is anything to go by.”

I smiled into the pillow. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.

3 responses to “The Rose Blooms in June, part 2

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