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The sun caught her hair as she bent down to fondle my dog and I loved watching the way it slipped forward, partially covering her face. Her dark blonde hair was heavy and in gorgeous condition, gleaming and shining like silk. She straightened up now and I could hardly restrain myself from reaching out to touch her magnificent hair but I did blurt out, “ Your hair is lovely.” She acknowledged the compliment with a little smile as she pushed back the tresses of hair from her face, and said, “You have a lovely dog.” She was not startlingly beautiful but had an attractive smile and of course her outstanding hair made her very attractive. It was slightly longer than shoulder length and she wore it in a straight gleaming fall from a side parting and I could imagine how wonderful it would be to brush and stroke the gleaming strands. Was she allowing her hair to grow longer I wondered, or perhaps she kept it trimmed to that length or maybe she had recently surrendered long hair to shearing blades as her hair was very well shaped and had obviously been professionally cut. How fortunate was the hairdresser who tended the girl’s hair, to be able to work with such wonderful material.

I was on my regular morning walk in the woods and had not seen the girl before and I wondered if she was a visitor on holiday or perhaps a local girl with a day off. She had a small dog of her own and had approached me from the opposite direction and now she said goodbye and continued on her walk. I watched until she disappeared from my view around a bend in the woodland path and gazed in sheer admiration at the rear view of her beautiful hair as it bounced and swayed gently on her shoulders. I continued my walk with my mind full of thoughts and pictures of the girl and her fascinating hair. I tried to imagine the pleasures of being able to handle the glorious material; to feel the cool silken strands sliding through my fingers; to brush and stroke the hair or to sit and watch her arrange her hair. All these pleasures and more could be experienced and I envied greatly anyone who knew the girl intimately.

I knew that if I were involved with her I would want her lovely hair to be allowed to grow to at least waist length so that it would provide the most wondrous silken blanket to make love under. These thoughts remained with me for most of the day and I looked forward to my walk the next morning when I hoped I would see her again. Even though I was out for longer than usual and walked along the same path several times, to my disappointment I did not meet her. I could not get the thoughts of her silken head of hair out of my mind and I really hoped that I would see her again.

The next day I again walked the same route and then suddenly as I turned the corner I almost bumped into a woman and as I started to apologise I realised with horror that it was she. “Your hair!” I gasped. Tears filled her eyes and she tried to smile and then she just said briefly, “It looks dreadful doesn’t it,” and then she turned and hurried away. I stared at her retreating figure still in a state of shock and feeling greatly saddened that a dream had been shattered. Her wonderful hair was no more. Cropped very short all over her head and not even well shaped, and I could only wonder why and how it had come about.

I walked slowly on trying to imagine what the circumstances actually were when her hair was cut. Perhaps she had decided herself that she wanted her hair cut short and had requested the style and then realised too late how awful it looked, or had she only intended to have her hair trimmed and the hairdresser cut it far shorter than she had requested. Whatever the circumstances had been, she was obviously still very upset over the result. How did she react I wondered, as her lovely silken locks were sheared from her head and she had to sit and watch her hair getting shorter and shorter. Masses of the lovely hair would have carpeted the floor as her appearance was so drastically altered. It was amazing how someone wielding a pair of scissors could so totally change someone’s appearance.

For the rest of the day I could not get the image out of my mind of her sitting in front of a mirror and scissors shearing away at the silken blonde hair and I realised that somehow this image was very exciting although I hated the result. I imagined those lovely rich silken locks of hair gently rolling down over the cape that would have covered her, as they were stripped from her head and I found it strange that although I had admired her hair so much when I first saw her I would have loved to have been present when it was stripped from her head. I never saw her again but the ruthless way her hair had been stripped from her head led me to be aware of how exciting an act it could be to see a woman have her hair cropped short and when I realised that there were many web sites and stories about this and my interest was not unusual, I entered an exciting new world.

The End

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