Your Fantasy, My Fantasy Part 2

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Your Fantasy, My Fantasy

Part 2

When I awoke it was the middle of the morning. I began packing and loading the van. I let Lucy sleep in. She needed to rest after our very eventful night. When all the bags were packed away, I tip-toed into the bedroom and observed my sleeping wife. Her dark hair lay spread across the pillow. One bare foot extended from beneath the sheet. She never looked more lovely.

I tapped her on the shoulder. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” I called. “It’s time to head back to civilization.” Slowly she opened her eyes and smiled at me. She stretched out her arms and grabbed me around the neck. I fell into her embrace. After a long, soulful kiss she whispered, “Last night, Ted, was I dreaming or was that for real?” Then she glanced at her hands. I could see a faint red line circling each wrist, a reminder of the cords that had bound her not long before. “I guess it wasn’t a dream then,” she said. “Ted, that was the best sex ever. Do we have to leave?”

“I’m afraid so, Luce. It’s a long drive home and I’ve got to be at work tomorrow.”

“Can’t you call in sick or something?” she asked.

“Not tomorrow. I’ve got to be there or else. Norm asked if I could come in today. Another day off would be pressing too far.”

“Okay, okay. Give me a couple of minutes to pull myself together. Perhaps you could make me some coffee? That would be nice.”

“Sure, Luce. I saw a jar of instant somewhere in the kitchen. I’ll go look.”

“Thanks, luv,” she said, gently shoving me toward the door.

A few minutes later she emerged from the bedroom and joined me at the long pine table. She wore a pair of cut off blue jeans and a discarded oxford cloth shirt of mine that was far too large for her petite frame. She had pulled her hair back and braided it into a thick strand that hung down the middle of her back. She was sleepy-eyed, but seemed perfectly content. She sat next to me and sipped from her steaming mug in silence for five minutes. Finally, she said, “You know, we’ll have to try this again sometime. I learned a lot about you this weekend and a lot about myself too.”

“Yes, I think that can be arranged,” I smugly replied.

On the ride home Lucy didn’t say much. Most of the time she sat curled in the passenger’s seat softly humming James Taylor tunes. She seemed perfectly content and I didn’t want to spoil her mood. After about an hour she turned to me and asked, “So Ted, how was it for you? Did you enjoy being the master?”

“Lucy, it was wonderful. I enjoyed every minute of it. You know, I had almost as fun much planning this little episode as I did acting it out. The only hard part was waiting till the third night before having sex with you. I wanted you so bad that first night when you stood naked with nothing but the collar around your neck.”

“I’m glad you waited, Ted. The tension was almost unbearable. I knew you were going to take me eventually, but you kept teasing. That made it so much more intense when you finally did overpower me. I’ve never had such a strong reaction.”

“Yes, I could tell you were enjoying yourself.”

“Well, I didn’t see any point in hiding my feelings.”

“So, Luce, there’s one thing I need to know.”

“Yes, Ted?”

“How did my performance compare with your fantasy?”

“Oh Ted, you were great. I loved the character you played. Your attention to detail was amazing. You thought of everything. And your acting really surprised me. You were very convincing in your role,” she laughed.

“You were pretty good yourself, Luce. That serving girl, Esmerelda, seemed so different from the side of you I see at home.”

“It really wasn’t that hard, Ted. All I had to do was to keep saying ‘yes, master’ several thousand times. You took care of the rest. I just hope you don’t expect that sort of service when we get back to the city.”

“Of course not, Luce. I’m glad everything went so well. I was afraid that the neighbors might call the cops on me if they saw me carrying you out of the apartment. Could you imagine me trying to explain why I had you bound hand and foot in the back of Bill’s van? I had visions of a long night in jail.”

“Yes, I’m glad that didn’t happen,” she said. After a long pause Lucy continued, “Now Ted, you’ve learned my secret fantasy. What about you? Do you have a secret desire that you’d like to share with me? I have a hunch there’s something you’re keeping from me.”

“Yes, Lucy, I do. I thought you might ask about it, and I’ve been debating whether I should tell you.”

“Why’s that, Ted? After I shared my secret with you it’s only fair that you do the same for me.”

“Well, yes. I know, hon. It’s just that my secret is rather embarrassing.”

“And mine wasn’t?”

“That’s not it, Luce. I’m afraid you’ll think I’m some kind of a pervert after you hear it.”

“No, Ted. I promise. No matter what you tell me, I won’t think any less of you,” she assured me. “I hope you trust me enough to know that I would never do anything to hurt or ridicule you, certainly not for talking honestly about your personal feelings.”

“Thanks, hon. That does make me feel better. Well, here goes.” I took a deep breath and began. “Lucy, my fantasy involves your hair.”

“My hair? What about it?” she asked with surprise written all over her face. Unconsciously, she reached to her neck and felt the plait of dark brown hair hanging halfway down her back.

“I want to cut it.”

“You want to cut it? And that’s your fantasy? I don’t get it, Ted.”

“It’s like this, Luce. Some men have a strong sexual attachment to women’s hair. And I’m one of them. We share an inordinate attraction to hair—long or short, blonde or brunette, straight or curly. It doesn’t matter. We find the act of cutting women’s hair especially exciting. We find short-haired women to be the ultimate turn on—the shorter, the better.”

“And this is what excites you sexually?”


“Then I don’t see why you find me attractive. My hair has never been short.”

“No, you don’t understand. Whenever I meet a good-looking woman with long hair, immediately I start imagining how she would look with a short haircut. When I met you, I began thinking how I could persuade you to cut your hair.”

“But you never said anything about it. I never suspected.”

“That’s because I worried about what you might think.”

“And what do you think about my hair?” she demanded.

“I think your hair looks wonderful. That’s God’s honest truth.”

“But you still want me to cut it off?”

“Not exactly. I want to be the one who cuts it.”

“And that would really turn you on?”

“More than anything else I can imagine.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say, Ted, especially since you did such a great job helping me realize my fantasy. I’d like to give you a thrill, just like you did for me, but this comes as quite a shock. Cutting my hair is not something I’m prepared to do right now. Maybe someday, but not now.”

“Sure, hon, I understand,” I answered, trying to hide my disappointment.

We said nothing more about my fantasy for the next three months. Shortly before Christmas Lucy surprised me by reopening the subject. “Ted, I need to get my hair trimmed for the holidays. I’ve been thinking about what you said this summer about your fantasy. Would you like to see me get my hair cut in a shorter style? Would that be a nice little present for you?”

“Well, Lucy, I’d love to see you with a shorter hairstyle, but it would have to be quite short to satisfy my fantasy. I doubt you’re planning on going really short, are you?”

“No, you’re right, Ted. I remember that girl you pointed out in the mall last month. The one with her hair buzzed short all over. I could never wear my hair like that. I would feel too self-conscious.”

“I know Lucy. That’s why I don’t bug you about it. I love you just the way you are.”

“But would you love me more if I cut my hair?”

“Lucy, please don’t put me on the spot like that. It’s not fair.”

“Sorry, Ted. I just need to know where your head is.”

Lucy did get her hair cut in December, but it wasn’t much of a change, just two inches shorter, not the major makeover I had been fantasizing about. Then, through the winter and into the spring she let her hair grow longer. By May it reached well past her bra strap, part way to her waist. Occasionally she trimmed her bangs in front of the bathroom mirror, but that was the extent of her haircutting for nearly six months.

It was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, exactly twelve months since we had acted out her fantasy. Lucy turned to me and asked, “Ted, do you remember what we were doing this time a year ago?”

“Do I remember? How could I forget? That cabin in the woods, that sexy little serving girl. It was one of the greatest weekends of my life,” I exclaimed.

“Well, I was wondering. What would you say if I invited Esmerelda back for a visit? I think she misses her master and yearns for his controlling touch.”

“As long as you won’t get jealous. You can tell Esmerelda she’s welcome in my home any time. After all, good help is hard to find these days.”

“Can you locate the restraints you used on her last year? You may need to tie her up again.”

“Yes, I think I can find them. Tell her I’ll be ready to take command if she decides to return.”

“Thank you, master,” Lucy answered in a voice I hadn’t heard for twelve months. That night we revisited her fantasy and passed most of the weekend in passionate sexual exploration.

Two weeks later, Lucy’s school year ended. Friday was the last day before summer vacation. Her students came to school for half a day, and in the afternoon the teachers celebrated their liberation by going out to lunch. I worked late at the office. It was past seven when I got home. As I opened the front door Lucy called to me from the back of the apartment. “Ted, I’m in the kitchen. Come here and join me.” She was seated at the kitchen table with a half empty bottle of wine in front of her. She wore a simple white tube top and a pair of navy-blue running shorts. I noticed that her hair was spread loose across her shoulders, not bound in the ponytail she usually wore around the house.

“Looks like you’re celebrating the end of school.” I observed.

“That’s right. We teachers started this afternoon at lunch, and I continued after getting home. Why don’t you sit down and join me? You know I hate to drink alone.”

“Sure, pour me a glass. Just let me change my clothes and I’ll join you.” I went to the bedroom, pulled on a pair of old khakis and a polo shirt, and joined my wife at the kitchen table. She offered me a full glass of merlot.

“To the beginning of summer,” she exclaimed, raising her glass.

“To summer,” I echoed her toast. We drank for a moment, then I noticed a gift wrapped box in the middle of the table. “Did one of your students give you a present?” I asked pointing to the package.

“No, Ted. Actually, that’s something for you,” she answered with a sly smile.

“Honey, that’s great. What is it?”

“You’ll have to open it, won’t you?” she teased. “But I think it’s something you’ll really like.” She shoved the package at me indicating that I should open it immediately.

“Hmm, I wonder what it could be,” I mused as I lifted the package in my hand. I stalled for a moment, sensing her eagerness and trying to tease her. The box was heavy. I had no clue what this mystery gift could be.

“Go ahead, Ted. Open it,” she urged. “It’s something special I’ve been planning for a while,” she explained. Lucy beamed as she watched me rip off the red bow and gold foil wrapping paper.

Peeling the paper away I discovered a plain white gift box.

“Go ahead Ted, open it,” Lucy repeated more eagerly.

I opened the box and found a collection of implements. One by one I removed them. There was a wide-toothed black comb, a sturdy round styling brush, a long silver pair of barber’s shears, and a folded piece of red-striped white cloth. When I shook out the material, I discovered it was a cape, the kind used in barbershops.

“What does this mean, Lucy?” I inquired.

“Use your imagination, silly,” she answered.

“Could this be related to my fantasy?” I asked.

“You catch on quickly, Einstein,” she chided.

“But last summer you said you didn’t want me to cut your hair.”

“No, Ted. That’s not what I said. I told you I wasn’t ready for you to cut my hair. There’s a difference.”

“And you’re ready now?”

“A girl is allowed to change her mind, isn’t she? I thought with summer coming on, it might be a good time to try a shorter style. Are you interested?”

“Are you serious? Of course, I’m interested. You really want me to cut your hair?”

“Oh yes, I’m very serious. I may be a little tipsy, but I’m prepared to let you give me a serious summer haircut. I’ve been thinking about this off and on for the past year. You did such a good job helping me realize my fantasy last summer, I finally decided I should return the favor.”

“But this is so much different. What I did for you was private. Getting your hair cut is going to be very public, at least when you go out of the apartment.”

“Yes, Ted, I know. That’s why I took such a long time making up my mind.”

“Perhaps we should wait and talk this over tomorrow when you’re sober.”

“No Ted, my mind’s made up. I waited till the end of the school year so I would have the summer to grow my hair out. But tonight it’s your turn to act out your fantasy. I’ve washed my hair and I’m ready for you to be my barber this evening. You’d better get started before I drink any more wine and pass out.”

“You know I’ve never given anyone a haircut before. Lucy. Shouldn’t we wait?” I asked. “It might help to have some instruction before I begin.”

“No, Ted. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I’d like to get started now if you don’t mind. I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to get home for nearly three hours. You know it’s not good to keep your lover waiting too long.”

“Okay, if you insist.” I set my wine glass on the counter and picked up the cape. “Where would you like to do this?”

“I suppose we should do it right here,” she answered. “Why don’t you move my chair to the middle of the room where the light is better?”

“Sure, I can do that.”

Lucy rose a little unsteadily and allowed me to position her chair in the center of the kitchen, underneath the light fixture. She stood on her toes, gave me a sloppy kiss, and sat back down. She gathered her dark hair with both hands and draped it over the back of the chair. Two feet of her wavy tresses hung there awaiting my attention. For a moment I hesitated, wondering whether it might not be better for Lucy to make an appointment with a professional hairdresser.

She must have sensed my reluctance. “Go ahead, hon. This is what I want,” she said.

I needed no further encouragement. “Madame, welcome to Pierre’s beauty salon,” I said, affecting a fake French accent. For some reason I felt more comfortable pretending to be a swishy foreign hair stylist.

“Hello, Pierre. I’ve heard so much about you,” Lucy said as she gamely joined my act, playing the role of a pampered salon customer. “Tonight I am looking forward to one of your famous makeovers. I understand you can make me look like a completely different woman.”

“Oui, Madame. If zat is what you wish, Pierre is happy to oblige.”

I lifted the hair off her neck, spread the cape over her shoulders, draped it down her front, and snapped it snugly behind her neck. Lucy sat quietly as I pondered my next step. Although I had imagined this scene a thousand times, I didn’t have the slightest idea of how to begin.

“Perhaps you should comb it out first,” Lucy suggested helpfully.

“Ah, but of course,” I replied. I went to the table and found the comb. As I began running it through her hair I realized that I had no idea of how I would cut it. I had imagined a hundred different styles on Lucy’s head, from a Dorothy Hamil wedge to a G.I. Jane buzz cut, but had never decided what one I liked best. I decided to let Lucy call the shots. “And what would Madame like today?” I asked my phony accent.

“Oh, Pierre, I’m so tired of this old do,” she exclaimed with a flourish. “I want to try something new and different. I want to look like a new woman.”

“Does Madame desire something shorter perhaps?” I continued.

“Oh yes, Pierre. With summer coming I will need something much shorter,” she said with emphasis.

“Ah, there are many short styles to choose from, Madame”

“I know, Pierre. I just can’t make up my mind. Why don’t you decide? Whatever you think would look good will be magnifique with me.”

“Oui, Madame. I shall choose for you a hairstyle that will be tres chic.”

“Yes, Pierre. Go ahead. I want to look tres chic.”

I continued combing through her dark tresses. I realized that it had been many months since Lucy last visited her usual beauty shop. Her layered locks hung well below her shoulders, extending five or six inches beyond her shoulder blades at the longest point. At the sides her hair was somewhat shorter, framing her face in a modified Jennifer Anniston look. I loved this style when we first met. Now I realized it had become rather dated. Her new look, however it turned out, would definitely be a major change.

Still, I had no idea how I was going to cut Lucy’s hair. If she had given me more time I could have done some research and selected the style that would be most flattering to her face. Now I had no choice but to improvise. I decided to try one of my favorites—the bob.

“Would Madame like me to cut her hair into le bob? Perhaps about this length,” I said, pointing to a spot on either side of her head about even with her jaw.

“Oh yes, Pierre. I think le bob would be wonderful.”

I returned to the table and found the scissors. I opened and closed the blades a couple of times to get a better feel for them. I worried that the harsh sound of the blades scraping together might alarm Lucy, but she remained calm, waiting for me to begin. The wine she had consumed served as a sort of anesthesia, quieting her anxiety.

I approached her left side and ran the comb though her thick locks one last time. My hand was shaking in nervous anticipation as I opened the blades and inserted them into her hair on a line level with her chin. I whispered a silent prayer as I closed the blades and watched a foot long hank of Lucy’s hair drift loose, land on her shoulder, before spilling on the floor. “Too late to turn back now,” I said as I stared at the blank space on the side of her head that a moment ago had been filled with hair. If she heard me, Lucy said nothing in reply. She continued staring serenely ahead in an alcohol-induced haze. I advanced the scissors and made a second cut on the same line as the first. Another long section of Lucy’s locks separated from her head. Two more slices brought me behind the chair where I stood looking at Lucy’s exposed neck. I clipped the fine hairs on the back of her neck close to the skin. I realized that I should have left her hair an inch or two longer to avoid showing short hairs in back. “Nothing I can do about that now. Just have to keep cutting along this line,” I told myself.

Once again I inserted the scissors into Lucy’s locks and resumed my procession around her head. Only about one-third of her long locks remained, hanging down over her left shoulder, but I made short work of them. One last cut severed the final strand and completed the obliteration of her long layers. They lay strewn across the white tile floor of our kitchen. I stood in front of Lucy to inspect my handiwork. I lifted her chin so she looked up into my eyes. “How does it look, Pierre? Do you like what you see?” she asked.

“Oui, Madame,” I answered. “But I still need to trim a little more to make it more perfect.” As I looked at the ends of her hair I saw that the right side hung about an inch longer than the left. On one side Lucy’s earlobe was exposed, on the other it was covered. Despite my best efforts, I had not trimmed her hair evenly. Instead of cutting on a straight line, I had sliced on an angle. “Oh shit,” I thought to myself. “This is not as easy as it looks.” I realized I would have to go back and trim the ends to make the sides match.

I combed Lucy’s hair a second time and began again on her right side, just above her earlobe and cut away another inch of dark hair. This time I worked more slowly, frequently pausing and checking to make sure I was keeping an even line. As I worked my way around her head, the amount of hair I was removing became less with each cut. When I reached the right side there was little left to trim. This time the ends were even all the way around although a bit shorter than I had originally envisioned.

“Now I must trim Madame’s bangs. They also must be shorter for this new look,” I announced.

Lucy looked up at me and smiled. “Sure, Pierre, just cut away,” she replied eagerly. As I combed her long bangs down across her forehead Lucy closed her eyes in anticipation. I inserted the scissors above her right eye and snipped off nearly two inches of dark hair. A strip of white skin stood out above her eyebrows. I continued cutting across her brow until her bangs stopped in the middle of her forehead. I was amazed at how different she looked.

I lay the comb and scissors on the kitchen table and began brushing Lucy’s newly shortened do, but her hair refused to fall smoothly as I had hoped. Instead of clinging to her head in a neat bob, the ends of her hair flared out, especially in the back. I applied some water and brushed again trying to tame the unruly locks but without success. I had envisioned a 1920s flapper style with a cap of dark shiny hair hugging her scalp. Instead, Lucy sported a strange sort of Cleopatra look, with brief thick bangs across her forehead and a wedge of short hair standing out from her head. Too late I realized that Lucy’s thick locks were not well suited to the style I chose for her. Freed of the weight that had held it down, her wavy hair naturally sprang out. It was an interesting look, but not one in fashion these days. I feared what Lucy would say when she saw the finished product, but could think of no way to prepare her for the shock.

“Are you finished, Pierre? I can’t wait to see how it looks.”

“Oui, Madame. We are finished with le bob. I shall bring you a looking glass so you may see your new coiffure.” I headed for the bathroom and returned with a small hand mirror. Lucy remained seated in the middle of the kitchen with the striped cloth draped around her shoulders. Dark hair lay scattered on the floor around her feet and dark flecks dotted the cape around her shoulders. She smiled expectantly as I handed her the mirror.

“Now Madame may see for herself how beautiful she looks with le bob,” I said, desperately hoping that she would like the finished do more than I did.

“Oh Pierre, it’s quite short,” she exclaimed.

“Oui Madame, zat is zee style,” I continued. Lucy raised her hand to feel the ends of her newly shortened hair while she continued to inspect the hairdo in the mirror. She turned her head to look at the sides. As she continued to stare at her new image I watched the smile recede from her face. It was clear that she shared my opinion of “le bob.” It was a disaster.

“Ted, I need to see the back,” she said with a note of urgency in her voice and dropping the role playing pretense.

“Sure, Luce. We’ll need to do that in the bathroom, I guess.”

Lucy rose from her chair with the cape still snapped at her neck and walked a bit unsteadily toward the bathroom. I followed a step behind. She stood in front of the sink looking into the mirror on the medicine cabinet. She instructed me to hold the hand mirror behind her head. She stood in silence, turning her head from side to side and inspecting her do from every possible angle. After a minute she took a brush from the sink, wet it under the faucet, and tried to persuade her hair to lay closer to her head. Finally, the slammed down the brush and marched back to the kitchen.

She took her seat again and began to address me. “Ted, I know you think this is a wonderful new hairdo for me, and I hope it turns you on. But there’s no way I’m going to go out in public looking like this,” she declared.

“What’s wrong, hon?”

“What’s wrong? Just look at me, Ted!” she responded angrily. “I look ridiculous. I look like a little Dutch boy or something. This is not a hairstyle for a thirty-one year old school teacher.”

“OK, hon. Don’t get so upset. I’m sure we can think of something.”

“And what do you suggest?”

“Well, perhaps I could cut it shorter,” I suggested.

“You want to cut it again?” she cried.

“Well, the problem seems to be the texture of your hair. It won’t lay flat against your scalp. Perhaps if I cut it shorter all over and get away from this straight line, it might look more suitable. You know, something more like a Halle Berry look.”

“Yes, that might be better. I certainly cannot continue with this haircut.”

“Would you be willing to let me try again?”

“I don’t seem to have much choice do I?” she responded. I was relieved to see that her anger was diminishing. “But before you chop off more of my hair I’d like some more wine.” She reached for her glass and I filled it. She raised it in my direction and offered a toast. “I’d like to drink to my new stylist, Monsieur Pierre. May you next creation be more wonderful than the last.

I resumed my fake French accent and returned her toast. “To Madame Lucy, ze bravest woman in nation.”

She quickly drained her glass. “Okay, Pierre,” she commanded. “Time to get back to work. This time I think you should wet my hair before cutting. That’s what they do in the salon and it seems to work better that way.”

“Oui, Madame. We can do zat,” I replied.

I turned on the kitchen tap and ran some warm water in the sink. Lucy stood by my side and bent her head down towards the sink. I used the spray attachment from the faucet to soak her hair. Then I took a kitchen towel and wrapped it around her head.

Lucy sat back down in the kitchen chair and dried her hair for a moment. When she finished, her damp hair was strewn across her head in a disheveled mop. I sort of liked the messy new look but knew better than to suggest that she keep it this way.

Lucy tossed the towel onto the table, looked up at me and said. “Okay, Pierre. It’s time to get back to work.”

“Oui, Madame.” I took up my scissors and comb again and approached her head. This time I decided not to comb it, but started cutting at random. I seized a lock of her hair near the top of her head and cut at a point about two inches from her scalp. The next cut was a bit longer, the third a bit shorter. As I reached the back of her head I began cutting it shorter in inch and half inch segments. At the sides I decided to cut up and around Lucy’s ears. Before long no trace of “le bob” remained. In its place there was an elfin pixie do. I thought Lucy looked charming. I set down my cutting implements and used my fingers to stir and toss her short locks. I took the brush to pull her bangs and sideburns down around her face.

“Madame, are you ready to inspect ze new look?” I asked.

“OK, Pierre, let me see it.”

I handed her the mirror. She gasped in amazement. “Ted, it’s so short! I hardly recognize myself.”

“I know, I hardly recognize you either, Luce. But do you like it?”

“I do Ted. It’s going to take some getting used to, but it looks lovely. I’m sure my friends will all be amazed. But what do you think? I did this for you. Was the experience everything you hoped it would be?”

“It has been so far,” I replied.

“So far?” she echoed. “What do you mean by that? Is there something else you haven’t told me?”

“Well, Lucy, the last part of my fantasy has us going to bed for some really hot sex.”

“Yes, I suppose we can do that,” she smiled suggestively.

I unsnapped the cape from around her neck and led her toward the bedroom. “Ted, you go light some candles while I get ready in the bathroom.”

I hurriedly stripped off my clothes, lit half a dozen candles, and climbed between the sheets. When Lucy emerged from the bathroom she wore a white cotton robe with the collar pulled up around her neck. Underneath I knew she was naked. She had brushed her hair again and it framed her face beautifully. She stood at the foot of the bed as she undid the belt and allowed the robe to fall open suggestively. “Are you ready for me Pierre? Or is it Ted now?” she purred.

“We’re both ready for you,” I eagerly replied.

Lucy reached down and snatched the sheet off my body, exposing my erection. “My, it looks like we’re ready for action tonight,” she teased as reached out and gently stroked my penis. “You’ll have to scoot up towards the head of the bed so I can fit down here,” she ordered, pointing at the foot of the bed. I did as she requested and she eased herself into the bed at my feet. “Now you’ll have to open your legs wider,” she suggested. Lucy lowered herself on the bed and crept between my legs. She stroked the insides of my thighs and circled her hand around my penis. She looked up at me and asked, “It’s okay if we do it this way tonight, isn’t it Ted?” I nodded and she continued to advance. With her head nestled between my legs she extended her tongue and began kissing my erect penis.

She placed her lips around my pulsating cock and opened her mouth to hold the head of my penis. I reached down to fondle the short hair on her head. Slowly, she began rhythmically moving up and down. I felt her new haircut between my fingers. I stroked the short hair on her neck and felt her naked ears, uncovered at last. I ran my hand across the top of her head and savored the fresh memory of clipping it short. My penis throbbed with excitement. She continued to rhythmically slide up and down my penis, using her tongue to stimulate me even further. Her strokes increased in their intensity. I realized that I could not stand much more of her fervid stimulation. I pulled her mouth away moments before months of my pent up desire exploded all over the sheets. “My, you really did enjoy that, didn’t you,” she smirked. “Now it’s my turn to have some fun,” she said as she quickly eased herself on top of me and guided my penis into her damp vagina. She bounced and danced with a feverish intensity. She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and began softly moaning. I could see that she was enjoying herself as much as I had moments ago. We rocked together until I came a second time. Then she dismounted and curled up at my side. She nestled her head next to my chest so I could stroke her hair while she drifted off into a deep sleep.

I awoke the next morning to find Lucy’s half of the bed empty. I listened to the sound of water running in the bathroom and realized that she was in the shower. After ten minutes I heard her turn off the water and open the shower door. Before long I heard the whine of the blow dryer. I pictured Lucy standing in front of the steamy bathroom mirror, arranging her new hairstyle. I wondered what her reaction would be in the light of day, after the effects of the wine had worn off.

After about fifteen minutes I decided to get out of bed and see what Lucy was doing. As I entered the bathroom she was pouring some of my styling gel into her hand. “Good morning, love,” I chimed. “How are you doing? What do you think of your new do?”

“Oh Ted, I don’t know. I just can’t get it to do anything. It looked good last night, but now that I’ve washed it, I can’t get it to lie down.” She raised her hands in exasperation and I could see what she meant. At the back of her crown a tuft of hair sprouted upward toward the ceiling. In front, one section lay plastered across her forehead while another shorter piece refused to go along with the rest. I saw that my haircutting had been careless at best. The hairline around her ears was ragged and uneven. My lack of experience in the barbering trade was evident. Perhaps I should have studied an instructional video before embarking on this venture. The hair on the back of her head looked worse. In places it was cut close to the scalp and hung longer elsewhere. I realized that Lucy had not yet inspected the back. She would be even more upset when she discovered how I had butchered her hair there.

“What are you going to do with the gel?” I asked, looking at her hand.

“I thought I would try to make it stand up all over. That might look better than this mess.”

I watched as she rubbed the gel into her scalp and then attacked her hair with the brush and blow dryer. She jabbed and pulled at her hair, encouraging it to sprout in all directions. When she finished with the brush the resulting punk style looked somewhat better than the previous pixie look but I could tell from her frown that she was not satisfied with the result.

“Well Ted, what do you think?” she asked.

“I like it,” I lied. “It makes you look wild and carefree.”

“I’m glad you like it, you’re easy to please. I hate the way it looks. I look like a porcupine or a hedgehog or some other creature. This is not the way I want to look.”

“What can we do, hon? Do you want me to try to trim it more evenly?”

“No Ted, I think you’ve done enough damage for one day. I love you and I know you didn’t plan for my hair to come out looking like this, but I think it’s time to consult a professional and see what we can salvage from this mess. I’m going to call Noelle at the Beauty Nook to see if she can fit me in later today.”

Shortly after ten I heard Lucy on the telephone. I assumed she was calling to make an appointment to have her hair redone. A few minutes later she came into the living room and announced, “Noelle is on vacation this week and all the other operators are booked up. The earliest I can get an appointment is Wednesday.”

“And you don’t want to wait that long?”

“That’s right. I need to do something today.”

“Surely there are other salons in town that could fit you in,” I offered.

“I guess so, but there’s no place else I trust. Most of the other salons around here cater to little old blue haired ladies. If I went to one of those places I’m afraid that I would come out looking even worse than I do now.”

“Well, there is another possibility,” I suggested.

“What’s that?”

“You could go to Anthony’s. You know, the place where I get my hair cut.”

“But that’s a men’s barber shop isn’t it?” she objected.

“Well, technically it’s a unisex shop. Most of the customers are men, of course, but I’ve seen a few women there too. With your hair as short as it is now, there probably isn’t much difference between the cut you would get at Anthony’s and what you would get at a salon.”

“I don’t know, Ted. It’s not the kind of place where I’d feel comfortable.”

“It’s up to you, hon. You can wait till Wednesday, or we can visit Anthony’s today.”

“Won’t we need an appointment?”

“No, it’s not that kind of place. You just walk in and wait your turn. Saturdays are pretty busy, but if you’re willing to wait, they’ll fit you in.”

“Then why don’t we go there? I don’t think I can stand waiting till Wednesday.”

“When would you like to go?” I asked.

“Right now, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, let’s go,” I agreed.

Lucy put down her brush and headed for the living room. She picked up her purse and the car keys and grabbed one of my baseball caps on her way out the door. As she walked to the car, she pulled the cap down on her head so hardly any of her hair was showing. I had to hurry to keep up with her. She got behind the wheel and motioned for me to sit on the passenger’s side. When I closed the door she turned to me and asked, “Where is this Anthony’s place? How do we get there?”

“It’s not far,” I replied, “just a couple miles north on Route 2.” Lucy pulled out into traffic and roared up the highway. Normally she stays within the speed limit, but today it seemed that she couldn’t wait to arrive at her destination. I cautioned her to slow down as we passed the state police station.

It took no more than five minutes to find Anthony’s shop. As I expected, all of the parking slots in front were taken. We had to take a space several doors down the block. “Looks like they’re pretty busy this morning,” I observed as we walked toward the shop.

“How long will we have to wait?” Lucy asked, tugging on the bill of her cap.

“It depends on how many barbers are working today, but it could take half an hour or so.”

“I guess that’s okay. We really don’t have anything else scheduled this morning, do we Ted?”

“No Luce, I just don’t want you getting too nervous.”

“Well, I am nervous. I’m not crazy about getting my hair cut in a barber shop, but I really don’t have many alternatives. I’m willing to wait if that’s what it takes.”

We reached the shop door together. I held the door so Lucy could enter first. She glanced around to check out the scene as I walked up to Anthony who was working at the first chair. “How long a wait this morning, Anthony?” I asked.

“We’re pretty busy this morning, Ted. There are several customers ahead of you. It could be half an hour.”

“That’s all right. We’ll wait,” I said as I steered Lucy towards the last two vacant seats in the waiting area. We joined six customers patiently waiting their turns. Three appeared to be businessmen in for a trim on their day off. There was a father with his son who looked to be about ten years old. To my surprise, the customer seated closest to us was a woman. She was about forty years old with a thick shock of red hair that she wore brushed back off her face in a rather masculine style. She didn’t appear to be with any of the men. I concluded she must be there to have her hair cut. Usually this was an all-male establishment, but today two women were waiting to be clipped. I hoped the presence of another female would ease Lucy’s anxiety.

Lucy seemed relieved when she realized she was not the only woman getting her hair cut. She turned and spoke to the redhead. “Excuse me, but are you waiting to get your hair cut?”

“Why yes, of course. Why else would I be here?” she replied with an amused smile on her face.

“I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but I need to know, do you come here often?”

“Yes, I’ve been getting my hair cut by Anthony for the last three years. I come here every month or so. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m here to get my hair cut and I’ve never been to a barber shop before. I don’t know what to expect. I’m a little nervous, I guess.”

“Well, you have nothing to fear, my dear,” she said, placing her hand on Lucy’s arm in a comforting gesture. “Anthony does a wonderful job. I wouldn’t let anyone else touch my hair.”

“But I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act. You know, what should I say to the barber? What is he going to do? How can I make sure he cuts my hair like I want?”

“I know just how you feel, honey. I had the same questions my first time, but you’re in luck. My turn should be coming up pretty soon. You just watch carefully when I go up there,” she said, motioning towards the haircut in progress in front of us. “That will give you a better idea of what to expect. Do just as I do. And remember, you’re the boss. Anthony will do exactly what you tell him to, but he’s not a mind reader. You have to speak up and tell him what you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that. My name’s Lucy, by the way. This is my husband, Ted.”

“Hi Lucy, I’m Kate. Kate Mulligan. I’m pleased to meet you. Pleased to meet you too, Ted,” she nodded in my direction. Returning her attention to my wife, she asked, “So Lucy, what made you decide to get a barbershop haircut?”

“Well, it was a homemade haircut, gone wrong,” she explained, lifting her cap and briefly exposing her ravaged hair. “Now I’m here to see if Anthony can repair the damage.”

“I’m sure he’ll come up with something. He’s very clever with his scissors.”

“Yes, that’s what Ted said, but I’m still worried.”

Just then Anthony interrupted their conversation. “Kate, I’m ready for you,” he called.

Kate turned to my wife and whispered, “Watch closely, Lucy. Enjoy the show.” She stood and confidently strode over to the large, throne-like barber’s chair that Anthony held ready for her. She climbed into the chair and winked mischievously at my wife as the barber fitted a white tissue around her neck and then spread a striped cape over her shoulders.

“And what will it be for you today, Kate? The usual?” he asked.

“Not today, Anthony. With summer coming on I feel like going shorter.”

“How short do you want to go? About an inch all over like last summer?”

“No, I want you to take it shorter, Anthony, more like half an inch. I hear it’s going to be a hot summer.”

“Okay, Kate, but to get it that short I’ll have to use the clippers all over.”

“Yeah, Anthony, I know. I’m ready for a short summer haircut.”

“How short, Kate?” Anthony asked. “Number four or number two?”

“Let’s go with number two,” she told him.

The barber shrugged. “Sure, you’re the boss.”

Kate smiled at my wife who sat next to me, staring in disbelief. Lucy tugged on my sleeve and whispered to me, “Ted, did you hear what that woman just said? She’s going to get her hair buzzed short all over. I don’t believe it.”

“Yes, I heard what she said, Lucy. I hope that’s not going to upset you. I know you don’t want you hair cut that short. Anthony is very versatile. He can cut your hair any way you want.”

“No, it’s not upsetting to me. I just think it’s amazing that any woman would want her hair cut that short. I’m curious to see how she’ll look when he’s done.”

“Well, it shouldn’t take too long. A buzz cut like that is about the quickest haircut to administer. Anthony should be done with her in ten minutes or less.”

Anthony didn’t waste any time. He turned the chair so Kate faced the large mirror. He selected a large clipper from behind his chair and attached a guard over the blades. He switched on the power and the vibration of the clippers created a hum that filled the shop. Kate continued watching my wife’s reflection in the mirror until Anthony gently pushed her head forward. Lucy reached for my hand and held it tightly as the barber raised the clippers into the hair at the base of Kate’s neck. A rain of short red hairs tumbled from the blades as Anthony guided them to the top of Kate’s head. Lucy and I viewed the three inch wide strip of clipped hair that ran up the center of Kate’s head. Anthony returned the clippers to the base of her neck and again ran them up through her hair. After five or six passes, he had reduced all the hair on the back of her head to a quarter of an inch in length.

Next Anthony positioned himself on the right side of the chair and inserted his clippers just below Kate’s ear. Once again, the clippers ascended her head, this time exposing her ear. We could view Kate’s face in the mirror and she seemed to be enjoying Lucy’s astonished reaction. Anthony moved to the other side of the chair and clipped the left side of Kate’s head. Now only the hair on top remained at its original length. “Would you like me to leave a bit on front for you to comb, Kate?” Anthony asked before beginning the final stage of the haircut. “No, Anthony, cut it all off,” she demanded.

The barber did as he was told. Placing his clippers on her forehead, he drove them directly back into Kate’s mass of red hair. Hair flew in every direction as Anthony repeatedly buzzed the top of her head until it was the same length as the sides and back. Kate’s lap and shoulders were littered with remnants of her hair, yet she sat there smiling serenely. As a finishing touch, he clipped all the fine hairs from his customer’s neck. At last Anthony rested his clippers and allowed Kate to inspect his efforts. She studied herself in the mirror, turning her head so she could see it from every angle. She ran her hand across the bristles on top seemingly satisfied with the result. “Anthony, as usual, you’ve done a great job,” she congratulated her barber.

Anthony pulled the cape off Kate’s shoulders and shook out the remains from her haircut. Short red hairs fell in all directions. He turned the chair so Kate was facing us again. She rose from the chair, pulled some bills from her jeans and thrust them into Anthony’s outstretched hand. “Thanks Anthony, you’ve been great, as always. Now I want you to take extra special care of my young friend, Lucy, waiting over there,” she said, pointing to my wife. Lucy squirmed in her seat, knowing that she would be Anthony’s next victim.

I couldn’t believe the events that were unfolding before my eyes. My wife would shortly be sitting in the oversized barber’s chair. Would she wind up with her hair cut as sort as Kate’s? Would she let Anthony use his clippers on her head? Or would she panic and run for the door?

Kate stepped down from the chair and walked back to my wife and said, “See Lucy, it didn’t hurt a bit.”

“Kate, your hair’s so short,” Lucy exclaimed as she rose to greet her newly shorn friend.

“Sure is,” Kate replied. “I’ve never had it cut quite this short before. What do you think, Lucy? Do you like it?”

“Kate, it looks good on you,” Lucy answered. “Can I feel it? Do you mind?” she asked.

“No, go ahead, Lucy.” Kate bowed her head as Lucy reached up and gently rubbed her hand back and forth across the short red hairs.

“Kate, it feels wonderful. So soft. Not as prickly as I imagined.”

“Yes, it does feel good, doesn’t it?” Kate replied, stroking her closely cropped head for effect. “Now, my dear, it’s your turn,” she said, grasping Lucy by the hand and gently pulling her toward the vacant chair. “Let’s not keep Anthony waiting. It’s not often that he gets to clip two women in a row.”

Lucy seemed to be holding back, but Kate gently guided her to the waiting chair and introduced her to the barber. “Anthony, I’d like you to meet my new friend, Lucy. She’s a little nervous today because this is her first barbershop haircut, but I told her you would take good care of her.”

“Sure, Kate. You know I will,” Anthony replied.

Kate then spoke to my wife. “You’re in good hands, Lucy. Just relax and enjoy the ride.” She bent over, gave Lucy a kiss on the cheek, and steered her into the vacant seat. Kate walked back and sat down next to me as Anthony slipped a tissue around Lucy’s neck. He draped the cape, still littered with bits of short red hair, around her shoulders.

He pumped the chair up a couple of times and Lucy rose into the air. “If you want me to cut your hair, you’ll need to take your cap off,” he reminded her.

“Of course, I’d forgotten I was wearing it,” Lucy replied as she pulled the cap from her head.

“My, my. What have we here?” Anthony mused as he pulled his comb through Lucy’s ragged locks. “It looks like a really bad amateur haircut.”

“You’re right,” Lucy answered. “Last night my friend came over and offered to cut my hair. She said she knew what she was doing, that she’d had lots of practice cutting hair, but that was a big lie, as you can see.” I was grateful that Lucy had not fingered me as the culprit who ruined her beautiful hair.

“Boy, you really made a mess of it, didn’t you, Ted,” Kate whispered to me. I said nothing but realized that she had a pretty good idea of what had happened last night.

“I hope you can make it look better,” Lucy pleaded.

“Sure, Lucy, I can do that. What kind of cut did you have in mind?”

“Anthony, I don’t have a clue. I need something that will repair the damage, but still leaves me a little dignity.”

“It’ll have to be fairly short, especially in back. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know that Anthony. I realize that you’ll have to cut it short.”

“Now here’s what I’m going to do,” the barber explained. “I’m going to give you what we call a boy’s haircut. I’ll clip it fairly short on the back and sides to even out some of these gouges, but I’ll taper it longer as I work up toward the top. On your crown I’ll thin it out a bit to help it lie down better. And in front I’ll try to leave you some bangs. You can comb them down or brush them back off your face, whatever you want. How does that sound?”

“Sure Anthony, that sounds fine. I mean, I really don’t fancy looking like a young boy, but I’m sure it will look better that what I have now. Why don’t we get started?” Lucy looked at me and gave a little smirk as if to say, “Would you look at me now, Ted? Just look how far I’m willing to go to help you realize your fantasy.” I sat opposite her, scarcely believing what I was seeing–my own wife having her hair clipped short in a barbershop.

“Okay, Lucy, here we go. First I’m going to buzz your neck.” Anthony announced. With that he turned Lucy so she faced the mirror. I could see the fear welling up in her eyes as the barber reached for his clippers and attached a plastic guide over the blades. He approached Lucy from the rear and applied the buzzing clippers to the back of her neck just as he had for Kate.

Anthony worked swiftly, trimming the ragged back of Lucy’s head into a smooth taper. At the base of her neck the hair was very short, but as he rose toward her crown he left it longer. In just a few minutes he had finished the back and approached Lucy from the side. “Now I’m going to cut around your ears, Lucy. I’m going to clip your sideburns fairly short and I need you to sit still while I’m doing that.” He placed the clippers in front of her ear and slowly raised them toward her temple. Lucy sat rigid as he folded back her ear and clipped above it. Now his clippers were buzzing directly in Lucy’s ear. Her lower lip quivered a bit as he continued grooming the side. Finally, Anthony removed the guide from the clippers, turned them upside down and applied the bare blades directly to her sideburn which he trimmed to a sharp point that ended above her cheek.

When he had done the same on her other side, Anthony set down the clippers and spoke to Lucy again. “Now I’m going to wet the hair on top of your head.” He picked up a spray bottle and began to drench her head. When every hair was thoroughly soaked, he approached Lucy with a comb in his hand. “What side would you like your part on, Lucy?”

“I don’t know Anthony. Up to now I’ve always parted it down the middle.”

“Well, this style requires a side part. I’ll part it on the right, if that’s okay with you. That seems to be where your natural part lies.” Lucy nodded her assent and he combed her wet hair forward and drew a clean, straight line down the right side of her head. Then he combed her short hair across the top of her head. “Now I’m going to try to even the length,” he explained as he ran his fingers across her scalp, lifting her hair between his fingers, and clipping the ends to a uniform length, about two inches long. In the front he combed her hair down onto her forehead and clipped her bangs straight across about an inch above her eyebrows. He put down the scissors and used a brush and blow dryer to style her brief locks, brushing the bangs back off her face.

I hardly recognized Lucy when Anthony finished patting her hair in place. The change was stunning. Lucy now looked like a young schoolboy—no more the twelve or thirteen years old. Her ears stood exposed at the side of her head. A bare forehead showed pale white skin that had been hidden beneath her bangs.

Anthony stood back inviting Lucy to inspect her new hairdo in the large mirror on the wall. She sat there staring for a long time, blinking in disbelief. She raised a hand to the back of her neck and felt the stubble there and around her ears. Finally, Anthony asked, “What do you think, Lucy? Do you like it?”

“Anthony, I look like a little boy,” she exclaimed.

“Yes, Lucy. I said I was going to give you a boy’s haircut.”

“That’s what you said, all right, but I didn’t realize I would look so, so juvenile, just like one of my students.”

“With your hair all gouged like it was, I didn’t have many options. I did the best I could.”

“I realize that, Anthony, but I can’t go around looking like this. Isn’t there anything else you can do?”

“Not really, unless you want me to buzz it short all over.”

“Like you did for Kate?”

“Yes, like Kate’s haircut.”

“Is that my only choice? Isn’t there something else you can do?”

At this point Kate sprang out of her chair and walked over to join the discussion. “Lucy, I’ve got an idea for a style that will look really great on you.”

“What is it, Kate?”

“Lucy, I’d like this to be a surprise. Do you trust me?”

“Sure, Kate, I trust you, but I’d like to know what kind of a haircut I’m getting.”

“Lucy, I think you’ll like it. You liked how my hair felt, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t think I could wear my hair that short, Kate.”

“I know, Lucy. This won’t be quite as short as mine, but it is going to be quite short. You think you can handle that, Lucy?”

“I really don’t have much choice, do I? It’s either go shorter or look like a little boy. Why don’t we go ahead?”

“That’s the spirit, girl,” Kate cheered. She turned to Anthony and spoke to him in a hushed voice. From time to time Anthony looked over at Lucy, nodding his head in agreement.

Lucy looked across the shop at me. She gave me a little half smile, as if to say, “Can you believe this is really happening to me? Look what you got me into.” I fought the urge to jump up out of my chair and tell her that she didn’t need to go any further. But I was too absorbed in the spectacle unfolding before me. I couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

Without any further conversation, Anthony picked up his clippers and snapped a different plastic guard over the blades. Kate held Lucy’s hand. The barber approached Lucy from the back and placed his clippers at the base of her neck. At first not much was cut, since Lucy’s hair already was fairly short, but as he raised the clippers more hair began to drop away from the blades. When he reached the top of her head he returned the clippers to her nape for another pass. Lucy sat stiffly, as if frozen in place, while Anthony buzzed the back of her head. She looked at me with panic in her eyes. I tried to reassure her, but I’m afraid my idiotic smile had the opposite effect.

When Anthony placed the clippers close to her ear and began to clip her side, Lucy became visibly agitated. I could see by the way she pressed her lips together that the sound of the clippers buzzing in her ear was making her more nervous. Despite her obvious distress, she sat perfectly still as Anthony smoothly stripped away most of the hair from the side of her head. Then he switched to the other side. Before long the two sides matched, clipped so only a quarter inch remained. The top remained longer, but I knew it wouldn’t remain in this state for long. I was dying to see what Anthony would do next.

He grabbed a brush and began forcing Lucy’s dark hair straight back off her forehead, erasing the part in the process. Because her hair was now much shorter most of it sprouted upward.

Anthony returned with a long-toothed comb and his clippers, this time minus the guard. Now I realized what Kate had whispered in his ear, but it was clear that Lucy had no idea what was about to happen to her.

Kate now took charge. “Lucy, for this to turn out right, you must sit perfectly still while Anthony clips your hair.”

“Hasn’t he already done enough?” she asked.

“Not yet, Lucy. This won’t take much longer, but you’ve got to sit still.”

“But what is he going to do?” she demanded.

“He’s going to cut the top shorter,” she explained.

“How much shorter?” Lucy pleaded.

“Lucy, you’ve got to trust me. It’s going to be fine.”

“I hope you’re right, Kate. I don’t really have much choice to I?”

“We could stop now, I suppose, but you’re going to look great when this is done,” Kate insisted.

“Oh, go ahead. I don’t have much to lose, do I?” she sighed.

“Okay, Anthony. Why don’t you get started?” Kate commanded.

The barber did as he was ordered. He placed his comb into my wife’s hair above her forehead, held it horizontally so the ends of her hair protruded between the teeth, and passed his clippers across the top, chopping nearly an inch from her already shortened hair. He flicked his wrist and casually flipped the severed hair to the floor, then moved his comb back, selected the next section, and made another pass across the top. After a few more passes across the top of her head, the profile of Lucy’s new haircut began to emerge. Anthony was giving her a classic flattop—not as short as the high and tight version seen on military personnel, but with the same distinctive flat surface.

Lucy sat straight, as if frozen in the chair, while Anthony continued working his way toward the back of her head. Bits of short hair now littered her shoulders and chest. She looked at me with her eyes wide, imploring me for some reassurance. I smiled broadly and flashed a thumbs up sign, but I’m afraid my enthusiasm was no comfort.

Kate also sensed Lucy’s distress and offered some comforting words, “Just hang in there, Lucy. You’re nearly done.”

Anthony returned his comb to the front of Lucy’s head for a second pass.

“You’re not going to cut it shorter, are you?” Lucy objected.

“He needs to go back over it and get everything even. It won’t be much shorter, believe me,” Kate reassured her.

Anthony inserted his comb into the front of Lucy’s hair a second time. He ran the clippers along the comb, slicing off the short tufts of hair that protruded above the teeth. Small pieces of severed hair fell onto Lucy’s nose and forehead. She closed her eyes acting as if she couldn’t bear to watch any longer. Anthony continued working his way to the back of her head, methodically lowering the flattened surface of her hair by a fraction of an inch. When he reached the back of her head he switched off the clippers and began stroking to top of Lucy’s head with a stiff brush. Finally, he was satisfied. He stood on one side of the chair; Kate stood on the other. Both waited for Lucy to say something.

My wife slowly opened her eyes and stared at the unfamiliar image looking back at her from the mirror. She raised her hand and rubbed it across the flat surface of the hair sprouting her crown. She reached for the back of her head and felt the short bristles that remained there. She turned her head to examine the closely cropped sides. Lucy’s face gave no indication of her opinion. Did she like it or hate it? I couldn’t tell.

After a minute, Kate finally broke the silence. “Well, what do you think Lucy?” she asked.

“I look like I could be your lover,” she answered.

“Would that be so bad?” Kate inquired, obviously intrigued by the possibility.

“No, not really,” Lucy replied. “But this butch look will take some getting used to. I’m not sure if Ted will like it.”

“Just look at him,” Kate answered, turning in my direction. “Does he look unhappy?”

“You look fantastic, darling,” I volunteered.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

After I paid Anthony twice his usual rate the three of us headed for the door. “If you don’t mind, Ted, I’d like Kate to come home with us,” Lucy whispered in my ear.

To Kate, she said, “I’d like you to join us at home for a little celebration.”

If Kate was surprised, she didn’t let on. “Fine with me. I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day. I’ll follow behind you,” she said. “Just don’t drive too fast.”

When we got into the car, I quizzed my wife. “Lucy, why did you invite Kate to come home with us? I thought you’d want to be alone for a while.”

“You know the old saying, misery loves company? Well, I want some company.”

I turned into our driveway and Kate pulled her car in behind. Lucy held the door as Kate entered first. Lucy immediately went to the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine and poured three glasses. She gave a glass to Kate and one to me and raised hers in a toast. “To my new haircut and the people who made it possible.”

I stood over the stove cooking a breakfast while Kate and Lucy sat at the kitchen table, sipping wine while engaged in earnest conversation. After we finished eating, Lucy excused herself. “I need to go change into something more comfortable,” she told us.

After Lucy disappeared, Kate confided in me, “I think your wife looks really hot. Too bad she’s straight.”

“Yeah, I think she’s pretty hot too. Thanks so much for helping her back in the barber shop.”

“It was the least I could do for a sister,” she acknowledged.

A minute later Lucy reappeared, barefoot and clothed only in her white bathrobe. “Kate, would you like to change?” she asked. Kate looked surprised, but offered no resistance as Lucy led her into our bedroom.

What was going on? What was my wife up to, I wondered. A minute later she came back for me. “Okay Ted. Did you think we were going to leave you out of the fun?” she asked as she beckoned me toward the bedroom.

I entered the room and saw Kate sitting on the edge of our queen-sized bed, wearing my blue robe. It looked like she was preparing to go to bed with Lucy. I started to protest, but Lucy placed her finger on my lips. “Did you think we would start without you?” she asked as she began unbuttoning my shirt. Kate came around the bed behind me and pulled the shirt off my shoulders as soon as Lucy finished with the last button. Next Lucy unfastened the snap on my Levis and lowered the zipper. She pulled the pants down around my knees and ordered me to sit on the bed. Kate unlaced my right shoe and Lucy did the same to the left. They removed my shoes in unison. Then they pushed me back and pulled the jeans off my legs. I was clad only in my boxers.

“Don’t be shy, Ted,” Kate cooed. “Take them off and show us what you’re hiding down there.”

As I struggled to get out of my shorts, Lucy and Kate slipped out of their robes. Lucy climbed into the middle of the bed and Kate slid in next to my wife. Lucy pointed to the vacant space on her right, indicating I should rest there.

Neither Lucy nor I had ever done a threesome before, but Kate seemed to know what to do. She encouraged me to begin fondling Lucy’s new haircut while she explored the region between my wife’s legs.

Lucy closed her eyes and began softly moaning. Then Kate slid over to my side of the bed and sucked my throbbing dick. Lucy kissed me deeply as I continued investigating the unfamiliar contours of her freshly barbered head.

Making love with two beautiful short-haired women had never been part of my fantasy, but this was turning out to be a day filled with wonderful new experiences.

2 responses to “Your Fantasy, My Fantasy Part 2

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