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“Sweetheart,” the note began. “Sorry I had to leave early. Million things to do today. Come to my place EXACTLY at 7PM for a private birthday party. No obnoxious guests, I promise. Love, Brenda”

Next to the note was a photo from a magazine showing a stunningly-beautiful woman artfully posed. I immediately noticed the invitingly-exposed ears and the nape seductively free of hair. It was a stunning cut on her. But, it wasn’t Brenda’s photo, so I laid it aside and pondered what nefarious schemes my lover had up her sleeve for my birthday.

There are tests in any relationship. One major test is how the other handles major events in the other person’s life. Such as birthdays. I had some time back reached the point where a birthday no longer indicated I finally, by act of Congress, be drafted but were now becoming an increasingly depressing reminder of the fragility of the Social Security system.

So, I got out of bed, wishing Brenda were still beside me, and slightly miffed that she wasn’t. But, I am sure she had her reasons for leaving early… and that is what scared me. A woman who plans birthday celebrations should generally be watched carefully, for other signs of insanity may also be present.

My eyes strayed back to the photo taped to the back of the note. Nope, it wasn’t Brenda… for one thing the hair was too short. Brenda’s hair swam in a mass well below her hips. And despite my not-so-subtle hints that I thought the nape of her lovely neck and those deliciously-delicate ears were the sexiest parts of her body, she didn’t seem too disposed to do anything about her mass of hair aside from wearing it up from time to time so I could have unimpeded access to her neck.

The life of a freelance writer is hell. I put in a full four hours work before calling it quits. It would take about 90 minutes to get to Brenda’s house. So I decided to treat myself to a horseback ride, playing with (thanks to the Brady Bill) some now slightly illegal weaponry, and generally indulging myself. Time came for the dreaded/anticipated trip to Brenda’s.

I drove to her house in a tract subdivision, again trying to pick out her house from the others. Brenda’s was, I thought, the one with the green mailbox in front. As much as I tried to block it from my mind, it came back.

“There are houses, little houses, there are houses everywhere there are houses, little houses and they all look the same. There’s a red one and a green one and a blue one and a purple one And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky and they all look the same.”

I rang the doorbell. It was immediately answered by a striking blonde with a beautifully- buzzed flattop. I admired the precisely clipped outline of her hair around her ears and nape as I stepped inside.

“I’m Janelle,” she said by way of introduction. “Brenda has instructed me to inform you that you are to completely disrobe before you join her in the kitchen for your birthday celebration. I am also to give you this,” Janelle said handing me a card.

I opened the card. I was getting good at reading short cryptic notes from my lover.

“Behave. Do as you are told. And don’t get any ideas. Janelle is a Black Belt in Tai Kwan Do, and men are not an attraction for her. Love, B.”

I had this odd feeling I should be watching for a rabbit in a top hat and a watch running around. However, in for a penny, in for a pound. What the hell. This could be interesting.

I piled my clothes by the door, and somewhat self-consciously padded toward the kitchen.

I stopped in mid-stride in the doorway. Janelle was busily brushing out Brenda’s heavy, thick black hair, working a brush carefully to the ends. Brenda was seated on a tall, low- backed bar stool, a barber’s cape completely enveloping her body. All I saw were two bare feet sticking out from under the cape, resting on the footrest of the bar stool. Around Brenda and Janelle was an assortment of scissors, clippers, clipper guides, hair clips and combs.

“Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!” Brenda chirped excitedly. “I don’t understand. What is all this?” I said showing the brilliance that had charmed Brenda.

“Janelle is going to give you your birthday present, really,” Brenda said obviously enjoying my confusion. “I couldn’t think of anything that a man who has virtually nothing needs, so I decided to give you something I knew you would like.”

“Er, and that is what?” I said, again showing my reputation for witty dialogue was not misplaced.

“The nape of my neck,” Brenda said smiling. “And while Janelle is at it, she agreed to expose my ears for you too.”

“You mean you are getting your hair cut?” I said disbelieving.

“My, you catch on fast. That is what I love about you. Yup, it’s all coming off. Would you like that?” she asked seductively. “Would you like to see my hair cut off, long thick locks tumbling to the floor, my nape exposed for you to caress, clippers buzzing around my ears cutting my hair oh so very short?”

I just stood there dumbfounded. However, if my voice were silent, another way of expressing myself suddenly responded.

“Hmmm…. ” Brenda said gazing down at my erection. “I think you would like that. Very well, sit down in the sofa there in front of me, and Janelle, please give my lover his birthday present!”

I sat down in the plush sofa that had been moved from the living room to the kitchen. My erection made sitting too painful, so I stretched out fully on my back and watched in lustful amazement.

Janelle combed Brenda’s magnificent black mane into three sections, one flowing down her back and the other two falling across her shoulders and spilling onto her lap. Then with practiced ease, she made a part at her crown and two more three inches above her ears. This mass of hair was pulled forward. Janelle picked up barber’s shears with five-inch blades and sawed the lock off at the bridge of Brenda’s nose. Holding the shorn lock in one hand, she gathered a handful of hair clips with the other and quickly clipped the parted hair out of the way, twisting the hair falling over Brenda’s forehead and pulling it back before securing the long bangs with clips also.

Janelle then walked toward me with that magnificent four-foot length of hair. “Brenda said you might enjoy this,” she said coiling the mass of hair around my erection and gently tickling my penis with the hair.

The effect was dramatic and immediate. I came in great leaping gushes, to Brenda’s squeal of delight.

“I hope you have something left,” she said laughingly. “The night hasn’t begun yet, and my nape hasn’t been bared!”

Janelle combed the unpinned hair over Brenda’s right ear and freed an inch of the combed- back hair. With small trimming scissors, Janelle cut a short, precise sideburn. Then Janelle picked up the electric clippers and slipped on a half-inch guide. I heard a faint hum as the clippers were turned on. Janelle held Brenda’s four-feet of hair out away from her head and started working the clippers just above her sideburn. The clippers easily sliced through the heavy hair. Frequently, Janelle would stop to let the buzzed locks tumble to the floor in a chaotic mass.

“I knew you liked your women with short hair, sweetheart,” Brenda said raising to voice slightly to be heard above the buzzing of the clippers and the sound of hair being sliced. Responding to gentle pressure from Janelle’s hand, Brenda tilted her head to the left and continued.

“Janelle has been doing my hair for the last five years. I’ve always had my hair long – other men I dated thought the longer the better! But since I knew by your comments about loving the nape of my neck – when you could find it – that you would like my hair short, I decided to talk to Janelle about short hair, since she has kept her hair buzzed off for as long as I have known her. Anyway, Janelle is wonderful with hair, but when it comes to advice about men, well, frankly there are better sources.”

“Don’t criticize people who have clippers on,” Janelle warned.

“Sorry,” Brenda said qui
ckly. “Anyway, I thought about surprising you by showing up with my hair cut off – I looked at some pictures of short cuts Janelle had – and I was even ready to have her cut it off, but then I remembered your birthday was coming up. So, I thought this would be a perfect present for you.” “It’s going to be cut like the picture you left with me this morning?” I asked, intelligence briefly re-entering my brain.

“Is that short enough?” Brenda asked. “I think you really like Janelle’s flat top, don’t you? I could have it cut like that if you’d like, but Janelle thought I would look better with bangs.”

Janelle finished buzzing the right side of Brenda’s head and tipped her head down. At the same time, she swiveled the bar stool around so Brenda’s back was facing me. I saw the thick curtain of hair tumble down her back. Janelle took the clippers and placed them against Brenda’s neck, and moved them slowly upward. The black mass of hair cascaded off Brenda’s head, plummeting to the floor. I felt myself engorge again as I watched that creamy nape appear from behind the mask of hair.

More hair fell as the clippers labored to slice through the dense mane. Up toward the crown the clippers went, sweeping away the heavy tresses, leaving a beautifully cropped nape and head behind.

Brenda was again turned to expose her left side. Scissors created the neatly-clipped sideburn again, then the clippers were again flicked on to buzz away the hip-length locks.

With the bulk of Brenda’s hair now forming a carpet on the floor, Janelle slipped the guide off the clipper and picked up a small tapered barber’s comb. She went to work quickly tapering and blending the sides, making sure no hair touched the top of Brenda’s ears. The lovely nape was shaved clean with the clippers. Then using the comb, the back was blended and tapered, going from shaved at the hairline to blend neatly with the now long-seeming 1/2-inch locks at her crown.

Janelle turned off and set down the clippers. She unclipped the long locks from the top of Brenda’s head and combed them down over her forehead. Picking up a small spray bottle filled with water, she thoroughly wet Brenda’s hair. With a comb in one hand and a small pair of styling scissors in the other, Janelle picked up a small lock of hair near the crown and cut it just slightly longer than the buzzed back. The ten-inch long wet lock of hair fell heavily onto the barber’s cape.

Janelle continued to cut small sections of Brenda’s heavy wet hair, making each section a little longer than the one behind it, until she reached Brenda’s forehead. She smoothed the hair down over Brenda’s eyes and snipped the hair precisely just above her eyebrows.

She combed Brenda’s hair over to the side and blended the long top layers in with the closely clipped sides. More wet locks fell, hitting Brenda’s shoulder with an audible “plop”.

Finally, Janelle was finished. The blow dryer quickly dried what remained of Brenda’s lush mane. From the time Janelle presented me with Brenda’s first sheared lock, 25 minutes of cutting had elapsed.

And what a change that half-hour had made! Where before a woman with heavy, thick, lustrous hair tumbling down her body sat before me, now I looked at a woman with delicately-chiseled features, striking green eyes, and elegant neck with fine ears. For the first time in our relationship, I found myself looking at Brenda, not the mass of hair that had covered up Brenda.

Soft bangs swept to just above her eyebrows. From there, precisely-cut layers fell shorter and shorter back to her crown, where they blended with her neatly-buzzed back.

“What do you think?” Brenda asked softly. “Is this what you wanted?” My continuingly-stiffening erection gave my response.

“I think this is what you wanted,” Brenda said coyly. “Thank you, Janelle, this is perfect – just what I wanted. I’ll see you later.”

Looking at my erection, then back at Brenda, Janelle sighed, and said softly, “Sometimes I regret being a lesbian,” and walked out the door.

Brenda undid the barber’s cape and pulled it off her body. Clipped hair sheeted off the cape and slid to the floor. Beneath the cape was nothing but Brenda – her small breasts firm, her nipples erect.

She came off the stool with cat-like grace and over to the sofa where I still lay, transfixed. Kneeling over me, she lay her head down on my chest. “Touch me, touch my hair,” she asked softly.

I reached up with my right hand and felt the marvelous prick of super-short hairs of her clipped nape. I ran my hand over her head, tousling the longer layers on top. Then I started nuzzling her ears. She turned her head to the side, allowing me to kiss and caress that marvelously-bared nape.

Suddenly, she plunged down on top of me with a stifled scream of delight. She rocked forward and backward on me with increasing fury. I found myself touching, playing, tousling, rubbing her clipped hair with both hands while my mouth sought her breasts.

“I love your hair short,” I gasped. “I loved watching it being cut, I loved the sound of the clippers buzzing over your ears, I love your nape, I love not getting tangled in that mass of hair,” I gasped.

Her frenzy rose, then suddenly, we both exploded and she collapsed on top of me, exhausted.

An eternity passed. Finally we both stirred.

“I never told you when my birthday was, did I?” Brenda said dreamily. “No… but then I’m lousy about dates. I probably would have forgotten it,” I said.

“I’d like something special for my birthday.”

“Name it, and it is yours,” I said still not believing the evening had really happened.

“Were you watching how Janelle cut my hair?” Brenda inquired.

“I memorized every snip, every clip,” I said, caressing her cropped mane. “My hair grows very fast,” Brenda said. “With it this short, it is going to have to be trimmed every two weeks, and I would go broke running to Janelle that often.”

Brenda stopped to feel her clipped hair.

“So for my birthday, which just happens to be in two weeks, I want you to cut my hair. Do you think you can remember that date?”

As Brenda gently fondled me back to life, I knew that even if my brain might forget dates, I had another way of keeping track of time.

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