Toning It Down

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Melody glanced at the clock beside her bed, chewing on her bottom lip as she muffled a cry of delight. 

The large, blurry numbers showed there were still ten minutes left before her morning alarm went off, and with the way Eddie was holding onto her waist and slamming her ass back against his thrusting hips, that would be more than enough time to give the day a beautiful start. Clutching the bedsheets in her fists, she let her head fall forward, spilling her abundant blonde waves forward so their cool, silky lengths brushed against her flushed cheeks and pooled on the bed beneath her. Her teeth surrendered their hold on her lip and let a whimpering moan of delight escape, and then another and another, each growing in intensity until she felt Eddie’s grip tightened even further. Release for both was timed perfectly as Melody threw her head and her hair back, crying out as waves of pleasure raced through her. 

At least now the neighbors wouldn’t be able to pinpoint which of the two woke them up with their screaming.

Gathering Melody’s long hair back into a ponytail, Eddie used it to turn her toward him as she slipped free and collapsed to the bed. His lips caressed hers softly, and then he smiled. “Good morning.”

He went off to make breakfast while she showered, returning after she had moved from the bathroom to her vanity in the bedroom and popped her contact lenses in. After finishing blotting the excess water from her thick mane, she quickly arranged it into a casual twist held in place with a single clip.

“I think that’s the quickest I’ve ever seen you fix your hair. And without any product, even,” he said as he munched an apple.

She raised an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. “Is that your way of saying it looks like shit?”

“That’s not possible.”

“I need you to be honest – I have that lunch with my boss today, remember?”

“Oh yeah. That’s weird.”

“It may be unusual, but I’m not sure I’d say it’s weird. She does it with all of the girls she hires.”

“Isn’t she, like, 50 years older than you, though?”

“No, she’s only ten years older. You’re thinking ion her husband, and he’s only, like, 40 years older. Not 50.” 

“Yeesh. He must be rich.”

“She’s rich enough herself. But he’s also a brilliant lawyer and really good looking for his age. Like, really, really good looking.”

“I don’t think you needed to put that much emphasis on it.”

Finishing her lipstick, Melody smiled into her mirror. “Don’t be jealous. You’re quite handsome yourself, and I prefer my boyfriends to have been born in the same century I was.”

Eddie sighed. “I wasn’t.”

“Oh, shit. Right. Well, I’ll revise that, then. I want them to have learned how to walk in the same century I was born in. Is that better?”

“I’ll take it.”

“Perfect.” She rose from her stool and moved toward her closet to dress for the day, taking a small detour to kiss him softly and rumple his dark hair. “I like the idea of having a twentieth-century lover.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He headed to the bathroom. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Once dressed, Melody checked herself in the mirror again. Her bright green eyes really stood out today, mostly because of her dark eyebrows and the eyeliner she chose but also because of how her hair was pulled away from her petite features. The dark lipstick she chose highlighted her cupid’s bow lips, and the low-cut top, coupled with a creme-colored sweater, provided a style that, to her, was professional without aging her. The fact that she hadn’t been graced with enormous assets kept the overall look fairly modest, though she did feel like the supportive bras that added a bit to the presentation might have been cheating a bit.

Finally, a pleated black skirt that fell just above her knees., high heels, and sheer stockings completed the ensemble. Melody had to fight to resist pulling the clip from her mid-back-length mane. She’d have looked incredible with the subtle waves falling free, their natural highlights threatening to curtain her features but somehow never actually doing so.  She loved how easily it was to create a Veronica Lake effect, though her hair never really got as blonde as the old-time star’s no matter how many days she spent at the beach. 

The date, if you could call it that, with Cybil wasn’t until close to noon, so Melody spent her morning tending to clerical tasks and running files across the street to the court offices when necessary. She also provided coffee or tea to waiting clients, and tried to ignore the looks some of the middle-aged male divorcees-to-be were giving her. 

“You should be careful,” one of the other administrative assistants, Janice, said quietly after one such instance. “I know it’s not your fault, but if Cybil sees too many men checking you out, she might start feeling a little threatened herself. It wasn’t that long ago that Mr. Howe left his second wife to make her his third, you know.”

“I really… I didn’t so anything.”

“Oh, I know, dear,” Janice said. She was only 15 to twenty years older, but she had the comforting mother routine down pat. “Men suck. Unfortunately, we’re the ones who have to adjust to it. And when the guy signing the checks has a type and you’re it, you need to be careful. Especially when you work for his current wife.”

Soon after, Cybil emerged from her office. Somehow a perfect balance between someone who took no nonsense and someone who was a blast to hang out with, she was wearing a pair of white slacks, a black top and a trim white jacket that hugged the type of figure Melody pretended to have. Her golden blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek twist, an interpretation of the same style Melody wore her hair, but about twenty billion times more formal.

“Shall we, Melody?” She asked as she stopped in front of Melody’s desk.

“Ready when you are.”

“Let’s roll, then. Janice, you can cover Melody’s calls this afternoon, right?”

“Of course,” Janice answered.

“All afternoon?” Melody asked as she followed Cybil to the elevator, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I thought it was just a lunch?”


The restaurant Cybil took Melody to turned out to be inside a country club, one of those types of places Melody could only daydream about being a part of. She loved being able to act like of one the rich and successful sorts for a time, enjoying all of the looks she and Cybil attracted as they walked down to the waiting car and through the restaurant to their seats, as if they were two gorgeous sisters out on the town.

The food and drinks were amazing, and despite the focus of conversation being Melody’s plans for the future and past accomplishments, she didn’t feel like she was being grilled or having her value assessed. It just felt like her boss appreciated the six months of work she’d given, and wanted to get to know her employee better.

Eventually the topic turned to Melody’s interest in law school, which Cybil seemed happy to support. “The question is,” she said, “whether you’d be willing or able to make the sacrifices necessary to continue your work at the first as well as take on your studies. It’d require a lot of your time and energy, among other things.”

Melody assumed she knew what the other things Cybil referred to were; it was something she and Eddie had talked about before. The fact that they were already living together and had been a couple for years now, they felt, would be a strong buttress against any tension that could form in their relationship. “Edward and I have talked about that,” she replied. “I think we have an understanding of what going to law school might demand.”

A smile flickered at the corners of Cybil’s lips. “That’s very mature of you both, but that wasn’t exactly what I was referring to. The effort will require a certain level of professionalism. You have to project an air of seriousness and maturity.”

Melody straightened in her seat. “I think…”

“Do me a favor,” Cybil interrupted. “Take off your sweater.”

Melody was caught off guard, but then hesitantly did so, baring her shoulders and showing off more of her bra-assisted cleavage than she ever intended to when she’d gotten dressed. She immediately noticed more of the men in the restaurant stealing glances in her direction.

“And now your hair. Let it down.”

Melody did as requested, letting her one-length, pale blonde locks fall free down her back. She raked her fingers back through the abundant waves to liven them up a bit, gathering heavy falls in front of each shoulder as she did. With it tumbling into its natural side parting, a silky curtain wound up hiding her left eye as she looked around the room, noting how many leering looks were being directed toward her. She might not have had the longest hair in the room, but with a mix of pride and awkwardness, she did feel like it was the nicest.

“So, tell me — do you feel very professional and serious? Do you think a judge or important client would be focused on the arguments you’re delivering?”

Melody felt her cheeks burning, and she wanted to hang her head. But she forced herself to maintain eye contact with her boss. “In my defense, I feel as though I’d have dressed differently for either of those occasions. But to answer the question as asked, no. No, I don’t think they would.”

Cybil smiled. “I see great potential in you, kid. But we have to recognize the kind of business we work in. So part of my reason for bringing you here today is to provide a little help in that regard. Though we pay you a fair wage, especially given we’ll be helping you with your law school tuition, I don’t think it’s fair for us to expect you to be able to buy a whole new wardrobe, or even to know what’s appropriate at your age. So I set us both up with appointments at the day spa here, where we can have stylists give you some decent, serious clothes, and have one of the best hairdressers in the city give you a more professional style and take care of your highlights.”

“My highlights?” Melody pulled a lock of her golden hair further from her eyes so she could focus. To her, they looked perfectly natural — mostly because they were perfectly natural. 

“And did I hear correctly that you wear contacts?”

Melody nodded. “I do…”

Cybil pursed her lips. “I’ve always found youngsters to look smarter with glasses.”

Youngsters? Melody had started the day feeling like she and Cybil were sisters or friends who weren’t the far apart in age, but now… Now the employer/employee division was clear. Even though she was completely comfortable with his she looked and the clothes she could buy herself, she wasn’t sure declining was an option.

Glancing past Melody’s shoulder, Cybil smiled and waved to someone in the distance. “It looks like they’re ready for us. Let’s go… oh, this is going to be so fun, isn’t it?”

Not completely sure she agreed with that, Melody grabbed her sweater and purse and followed after he boss. The spa area was just a short distance away, but the walk provided plenty of time for Cybil to share her thoughts with the sharply dressed attendant. 

Led to a well appointed changing room, Melody and Cybil were left to change into short robes that were more luxurious than Melody had ever dreamed a robe could be. After washing her face free of the morning’s makeup, she slipped on the accompanying complementary slippers. When she rejoined Cybil, Melody was suddenly struck by the fact that her boss was at least six inches taller than her, with more impressive curves to match. What Melody required bras to accomplish, Cybil seemed to have on her own. Melody folded her arms and slouched a bit as she pondered for the first time since junior high whether she was a member of the itty bitty titty committee.

Another attendant came to fetch them soon after, guiding them toward the salon setup in the spa. They motioned for Cybil to make herself comfortable at one of the stations, but she followed Melody to the second station anyway.


“Ah, Ken, so good to see you!”

Cybil greeted a blonde-haired man with beautiful eyes, exchanging cheek kisses before he encouraged her to spin around before him. 

“You are looking amazing.,” he said. “What could you possibly be in here for?”

“Just a little refresh with Alicia for myself, but, for you, I brought one of my proteges.”

Melody blinked when she heard the word protege. It certainly hadn’t been used in to describe her in the office before, at least not that she knew of.

Ken stepped forward, offering his hand. “Hi, I’m Ken. So nice to meet you…”

“Melody,” she offered as she took his hand in her own.

“Well, this will certainly be an easy afternoon for me,” he said with a smile as he circled Melody and reached up to draw her hair back behind her shoulders. “You could have at least brought me a challenge so I had a chance to prove myself.”

Cybil chuckled. “Well, the challenge here is that we’re looking for a more serious and professional presentation. And maybe you could take care of her highlights.”

“Oh! I see.” He stood in front of her and squinted a little. “Slightly more of a challenge, but hardly impossible. I’m ready and willing if you are, Melody.”

Melody couldn’t help but fidget, but she finally managed to nod. “Yeah, I am.”

“Perfect!” He motioned to one of the young assistants buzzing around the salon. “I’m going to have Jessie here wash your hair, but first, let’s make it a little easier for her.”

Melody wasn’t sure what he meant by that until she saw him reach for a pair of scissors at his station. Without even asking her to sit down, he stepped behind her and ran his fingers down the length of her hair. Her heart raced as he took a few quick swipes with his comb, and before Melody could even ask whether they were going to discuss any styles, she saw his hand rise to the level of her chin in the corner of her right eye.

“Wait!” She yelped, but it was too late. A loud crunch sounded as the stylist’s blades came together, and Melody watched as her shortened locks swung forward to brush against her cheek.

“Don’t worry, Mel,” Cybil said, reaching out to gently touch Melody’s left shoulder. “Ken is a genius. You’re going to look great.”

There was another crunch and then another, and Melody bit down on her lip hard as she suddenly felt the cold metal of Ken’s shears traveling across the back of her neck, well above her shoulders. Cybil watched for a moment more, and then turned and walked back to greet her own stylist for the afternoon as Melody felt her lush, thick hair falling away, floating silently to the floor where it piled against her bare heels.

The blades moved so quickly and easily, but made so much noise as they cut. Melody would never have imagined it could sound so loud.

“Your hair is so healthy and thick. It’s in amazing condition,” Ken commented as he cut. “You really should be proud of it.”

It’d be easier to be proud of it, Melody thought, if it all wasn’t being chopped off! 

It felt so weird to have the sensation of soft, silken tresses against her neck replaced by the cool air of the salon, but there was no stopping it as Ken worked. Within a minute, most of Melody’s beautiful, long waves had been rendered lifeless on the floor, and the crowning glory that was within a few inches of reaching her waist couldn’t even brush against her shoulders.

“There we go,” Ken said with a pat on Melody’s shoulder. “You head off with Jessie, and I’ll get everything ready for you here, my soon-to-be-serious and professional friend.”

Melody glanced toward Ken’s mirror, her green eyes widening as she saw herself with short, chin-length locks for the first time. Sure, she’d thought about getting a cute bob in the past whenever a heatwave hit or when she had a bad hair day, but she’d never actually gone through with it. And now here she was, with her beach blanket bombshell status stripped away, and it was just the starting point for whatever Ken was planning.

Melody couldn’t help but remember the men who had taken notice of her at lunch when she took off her sweater and let her hair down… what would they think now if they saw her standing there without her silky, seductive mane and so much less cleavage?

More importantly, what would Eddie think when she got home?

The shampoo given by Jessie was no doubt the most luxurious Melody could remember, but it was also the absolute shortest. Despite the tender scalp massage and the careful attention paid to her silky locks, the entire endeavor seemed to pass by in a flash. Afterward, she followed the assistant back to Ken’s chair, a towel wrapped around her hair, and settled in.

When her damp locks were released from the cloth wrap, Melody still felt stunned when they failed to slap against the back of the chair or fall around her shoulders. She reached up with her left hand, feeling a shorn end of her beautiful hair, wondering what was in store for her.

“There’s my girl,” Ken said as his reflection appeared in the mirror. “Did Jessie treat you well?”

Melody nodded, still not used to how freely her hair swung when she did.

“Wonderful,” the stylist replied. His smile was warm and kind, but Melody found herself wishing she was anywhere else right then. Picking up his comb, Ken began to slide it through her hair, slowly fixing it into something resembling an orderly style as he went. “This is going to look a little haphazard at first, but, trust me, once I fine tune it toward the end, you’ll love what I have in mind.”

She nodded again, not quite trusting herself to open her mouth without begging him to just straighten the edges as they were. She actually gave that consideration quite a bit of thought, but before she worked up the guts to countermand whatever orders Cybil had given, Ken picked up a long razor-like tool, gathered the thick, silky tresses that still hid Melody’s right ear, and easily sliced most of them away.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide as he gathered another thick lock and sliced it away just as easily. He flicked it away with his fingers, and the shorn tresses fell onto her right forearm. She looked down at the long inches laying there, but Ken lifted her chin again, forcing her to watch as he moved around her, gathering and harvesting and shortening lock after lock of her beautiful blonde mane to barely a few inches. Soon, her left ear was as naked as her right, and then in one supersized hank, whatever remained of the sweep of long bangs was razored away just past her eyebrows.

Despite her best efforts, a desperate little squeak escaped her throat when those soft locks landed in her lap. All that remained on her head looked like something between an uneven mullet and a rough shag — one crafted by a drunken kindergartener who had an unexplained dislike of petite blondes.

She was short-haired. 

In comparison to the previous length, her naturally darker roots accounted for so much more of her blonde locks’ lengths, creating the look of a bleach blonde who hadn’t kept on schedule. It was so unexpected, and so awful… She tried to hold back her tears, but one escaped down each cheek, almost reaching her chin before Ken handed her a tissue to wipe them away.

“I know changes like this can be a shock. But believe me, you’ll see how worthwhile it was when you’re taken more seriously at your office.”

Her chair was spun away so she could no longer see her reflection, and Melody was overtaken by waves of embarrassment. “It’s only hair,” she said, more to herself than Ken. “It’ll grow back.”

“Exactly,” he told her, combing her hair once again. She heard him snap on some plastic gloves, and then he carefully began applying some kind of treatment and an abundant amount of foils to the short locks that remained. “And as it does, you’ll be able to try out all sorts of fun styles. Change is good. You’ll see.”

Melody blew her nose, and then asked, “So what are you doing now?”

“Just taking care of your highlights, as you and Cybil discussed.”

“I didn’t…”

“Do you happen to have your phone with you?”

“What? No. It’s in my locker…”

“No worries. We can being you a tablet to use for some reading or browsing while we wait for your new color to set.”

“New color?” 

Ken had already turned away before he could hear the question, and after asking it once, Melody lost the nerve to ask again. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know… she wasn’t sure she wanted to think this was anything other than a bad dream. 

Ken’s question abut her phone only made her realize how badly she wished she could text Eddie some kind of warning or cry for help. Maybe if she could let him know what was going on, he could find a TARDIS or Delorean and crash it through the restaurant wall about an hour ago and save her long hair.

As she waited for the color — whatever color it was — to set, attendants came and trimmed her longs nails to a more sensible length and then painted them beautifully. Her makeup, too, was also redone, though no mirror was provided to let her see before the entire package was complete. Cybil, her own head a mass of foils, found her way to the next seat after a time, and seemed to do her best to keep Melody from asking too many questions about what was actually being done. Instead, they talked about the future, a subtle way of reminding Melody to keep her eyes on the long-term prize.

In time, Melody found herself back at the washbasin, this time having her hair washed by Ken himself. Though he was careful when pulling the foils from her hair, the overall effort took even less time than her first shampoo, something she found both convenient and disheartening. Convenient for getting everything over with, but disheartening that she didn’t have more hair on her head.

When she returned to Ken’s seat, he spent a few brief moments drying what remained of her hair. She had also been left turned away from the mirror again, and the stylist admitted that was because he wanted her full reveal to be a surprise.

With a sigh, she chose not to fight that decision, not that she had fought anything so far. She never lifted her chin when he nudged her head forward, and never said a negative word when she felt the edge of his razor return to the nape of her neck. This time, it was small collections of her hair that he gathered and sliced away, rather than thick heavy ones, forming an almost soothing rhythm of ruffling her hair, pinching and pulling, and then slicing. 

Ken worked slowly and meticulously, something that actually gave Melody a bit of hope that she might not look terrible in the end. With care and attention to detail, he worked around each of her ears, clearing away shearings with soft breaths, and then began atop her head. There, she could feel greater lengths being taken away, followed by careful adjustments with his shears.

Her heart picked up its pace when a few wisps floated past her eyes — a few dark wisps, to be exact. She tried to follow them down into her lap, but Ken’s hand quickly lifted her chin again and she was left to the worst of her imagination. She began picturing herself with dull, lank, mousey brown hair. She imagined Eddie’s unhidden grimace as he saw her, and never ending inquiries from everyone she knew as they tried to understand why she would do such a terrible thing to herself.

Her anxiety continued to build toward a panic attack crescendo, halting only just before peaking when Ken finally said, “Okay. There we are.”

He set his razor down, then placed both hands on the arms of the chair and looked Melody in the eye. “Are you ready to see?”

“No,” she admitted. “But since I can’t sit here all day…”

He smiled, and gently turned the chair. Closing her eyes as he did, Melody stalled a moment to take a deep breath. She reminded herself that it was only hair and Eddie had loved her since they met and would continue to do so even if she’d gotten a bad haircut. Her value went deeper than her looks. 

She needed to believe that. But she wasn’t sure she did.

She opened her eyes.

In her mind’s eye, she was still the fashionably dressed young woman with the type of flowing blonde hair a lot of women spent a lot of money to mimic. Long and thick and soft, it fell to the middle of her back and garnered glances and comments wherever she went, almost floating in the air behind her as she walked.

But in the mirror before her, Melody was a short-haired brunette. Not practically a brunette, not dirty blonde. Her hair — her beautiful, lovely long blonde hair — had been chopped into a side-parted pixie cut, with its pale golden color and sun kissed highlights replaced by a chocolate brown shade with warm red undertones.

Reaching up, she gasped softly at how silky the unfamiliar locks felt. Her fingers slid through them, tucking bangs that didn’t quite reach her eyebrows but still managed to highlight her green eyes to the side. The color shimmered as her locks moved, subtle shifts in tone becoming evident as she turned her head from side to side. The sides and back started with enough length to maintain some shininess, but tapered down to almost nothing at her nape and around her ears. Her cute, adorable ears were suddenly so naked and vulnerable, completely unthreatened from having to partake in having any locks tucked behind them any time soon.

Her makeup was impeccable as well, but more muted and underwhelming. She looked fresh-faced, with her natural skin tones and freckles merely accented rather than adorned.

She realized she looked lovely. Absolutely lovely.

But she wasn’t hot. She wasn’t gorgeous. 

Even as she admired the precision and artistry of Ken’s work, she recognized that  she’d been shunted from the category of women men lusted after and into the category they would want to take home to meet their mom.

It was as if her sex appeal had fallen to the floor with her shorn tresses.

She just wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Oh my god, Mel, you look darling!” Cybil exclaimed behind her.

Melody turned to see her boss, now “freshened up” and looking as though she walked out of the pages of the latest fashion magazine. No longer in a tight twist, her light blonde hair fell past her shoulders in gorgeous waves and layers, the kind that seemed as though they would never be tamed yet somehow always looked perfect. Her makeup had been freshly done, highlighting her light blue eyes and lush lips, and her day’s businesswear had been traded for something much more casual but every bit as classy, showing off her bare shoulders and hinting at her abundant curves without being crass about it.

She was everything Melody suddenly wasn’t.

Cybil stepped forward as Melody rose from the chair, and cupped the girl’s chin to so she could turn her head and look at her from every angle. “Oh, you look absolutely adorable. This is exactly what I was thinking, Ken. You’re a genius. No one will be doubting your professionalism and capability now, Mel.”

Mel. Why was she calling her Mel all of the sudden? Melody was so much prettier…

Oh. That’s why. Of course.

Melody smiled as best she could, realizing the third unspoken goal of Cybil’s afternoon was to remove any competition for her husband’s eye. Melody looked professional, capable, and ordinary. “It’s certainly different,” she finally said.

“I think you’ll grow to love it. And since it’s for work, it’s only fair we help maintain it, right?”

Melody did not like the sound of where this was going…

Cybil brushed Melody’s bangs to the side and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Can we set her up with a recurring appointment every three weeks, Ken? For a cut and color? I’m sure she’ll want to stay looking sharp for us as long as she’s with the firm, right, Mel?”

Melody’s heart sank, and she brushed aside any thought she’d given to trying new styles as her beautiful hair grew back. She forced another smile and nodded.

“Yes, Ken. That’d be nice. No more long blonde hair for me.”

Cybil hooked her arm into Melody’s. “Come on, now, Mel. Let’s go see about your new wardrobe.”


A few hours, several outfits, and one nerve-wracking text to Eddie while on her way home, Melody-the-professional stood in front of her mirror.

Currently, a long, black pencil skirt reached below her knees, a stiff, white blouse threatened to chaff her elegant neck, and the dark blazer that completed the outfit completely hid the modest curves of her breasts, their natural size given no help by the underwear Cybil insisted was most suitable. On her bed, several other pieces of clothing — all of them just as understated and simple — awaited.

Blinking away a few tears, Melody carefully removed her contact lenses, and put on her glasses. With circular black frames, she’d picked them out as more of an ironic joke than anything else, certain she would never wear them outside the house. But here they were now, the final piece of a puzzle that would ensure she never stole any attention — especially that of Mr. Howe — that rightfully belonged to Cybil.

“Oh my god.”

Melody spun to see Eddie standing in the doorway, a bunch of colorful flowers in his hand. She reached up and quickly pulled her glasses off, not completely sure whether the resulting blurriness of her love’s visage was a result of poor eyesight or threatened tears.

She held her hands out to her side. “Ta-da… I’m a dork.”

He set the flowers down. “Turn around for me.”

Biting her lower lip, she did, spinning slowly.

“And put your glasses back on.”

She did, letting the world come back into focus just in time to for her to meet his gaze again as he stepped close.

“This is a hell of a change.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t be for long… no, it will be for long. Until I’m done law school.”

He grinned, one corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. “So I get to enjoy this sexy librarian look for that long?”

She pouted. “Don’t tease me.”

He shook his head, taking her hand and spinning her around again. “I would never. Not when you’re practically crying already. I’m serious — you make this work.”

She fought back a smile, still not quite willing to believe his honeyed words. “She started calling me Mel.”

“Does that mean I have to?”

“Please don’t.”

“Then I see no problem here.” 

She realized his hands were around her waist, and had already shirked the blazer off of her shoulders so it had fallen to the ground.

“I liked being pretty.”

“I also see no problem there, then. Because you really, really are.” 

His lips met hers as she closed her eyes. She sighed deeply as she lifted her arms around his neck. “You lie.”

“Nope. I’ve always said you could pull off any look. You’re gorgeous with short hair. And now it’s so easy to do this…”

She giggled as he nipped at her throat.

“And this…”

She gasped as he nibbled her ear. His fingers slid up the back of her neck, playing into the short hair at her nape and then at her crown as he looked into her eyes and she pressed her hips against his.

“And there’s no more hiding those gorgeous eyes of yours, which, and I could be biased, are looking even brighter now.” He glanced up and down, then raised an eyebrow mischievously. “So, as nice as these clothes are, would you mind if I continued taking them off of you?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, Cybil gave me the day off tomorrow so I could practice my new makeup palette and figure out some outfit combinations. Maybe you could practice taking all of them off in turn?”

Melody never got a verbal reply, at least not in actual words. But her confidence was reassured enthusiastically enough throughout the night that she found a note from the neighbor taped to her and Eddie’s front door the next morning.

It wasn’t signed, and all it said was, “YOU TWO NEED TO TONE IT DOWN!”



I’ve always enjoyed makeovers that make a sexy girl cute or a cute girl gorgeous… it’s just fun to play with perceptions and categorizations. Hopefully you enjoyed this as well!

4 responses to “Toning It Down

  1. No surprise, but what a fantastic story! I really loved the theme, and how Melody’s perception clashes with her new reality. I hope you’ll return to something similar in the future, if you don’t mind my saying.

    Thanks for another great work!

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