Andy waited until Trish left for the mall before flicking to the familiar profile on his laptop. He’d looked at that picture so many times that it shouldn’t really be necessary to have it in front of him anymore, but in a way he found it comforting. It was a means to pretend that she was in the room with him while he talked to her, the same way that he tried to ignore the fact that he was talking to her on the phone. Without the picture she was just a disembodied voice and it just wasn’t the same. There was the other advantage too: the picture reminded him that she was a girl on a chatline and he had to make every second count. He winced when he thought how much it had cost him so far, but they just seemed to have clicked in a way that he hadn’t with any of the others. Some of those other calls were over in seconds, almost as soon as he heard the girl’s voice because it just didn’t sound right or her voice grated on him. There was no such problem with Alana. She sounded as if she could be from the same neighbourhood and Andy certainly couldn’t place her in any other obvious region based on her accent. But then he was concentrating on what she was saying rather than how she was saying it.

While he waited to be connected, he tried to remember whether this would be the sixth or seventh call with Alana. Probably the sixth. He looked at the picture again, looked at her long, dark, slightly wavy hair. She said it was down to her waist, but it wasn’t possible to confirm based on that picture. It wasn’t unlike his wife’s hair, although if it was really down to her waist, Alana’s was significantly longer. Trish’s hair broke over her shoulders, so the illusion of similarity was there if he wanted it to be, but it was a long way from her waist. He remembered the girl’s insistence that it really was a picture of her on the site and not some photograph ripped from someone else’s Facebook page. She admitted to being twenty-seven, which probably made her a couple of years older. He could allow her that little conceit at least, but he had to know that he was actually talking to the girl he was looking at.

It had taken him two calls before he felt comfortable enough to ask her about her hair, to ask her to describe it. The call after that was the first time he’d asked her to brush it while she talked to him. She was actually okay with talking about her hair. She said that it made a change from guys telling her in detail about all the gross things they wanted to do to her. She found it refreshing, relaxing, sweet even.

Now he’d moved on to the next stage, despite his worries about freaking her out. Talking to her about hair was one thing, but moving the chat to talking about cutting her hair was altogether different. Nevertheless, it had to be done.

He hated himself for going behind Trish’s back like this, but he had no choice. He was so scared about her reaction if she found out about his hobby that he had to keep everything from her. Business trips were excellent, but infrequent opportunities, as were any occasions when Trish was guaranteed to be out of the house for a while. Shopping trips or drinks with her friends, anything like that was an opportunity for some illicit research or as had become the favourite now, a chat with Alana.

As far as he knew, Trish was blissfully unaware of his extra-curricular activities, although she had an inkling about his interest in hair. He had certainly paid enough attention to her hair in the sack for her to know that hair was a stimulus for him. It’s just that she probably thought that it was her hair, and hers alone, that interested him, rather than it being a wider interest. After the disaster with a girl he used to go out with, he had decided that honesty wasn’t the best policy if he wanted to keep hold of a good thing. He’d love to share his secret with Trish, but he couldn’t risk losing her.

‘I couldn’t wait to talk to you again. It’s Andy’ he said. He could feel tremors just from getting though to Alana without having to wait for ages in a queue.

‘Hi Andy, how have you been?’ she asked, sounding genuine enough.

‘Good, but I couldn’t wait to find out whether you’ve decided to cut your hair.’

‘You really want me to, don’t you?’ Tell me again what you want me to do’ she said, that sexy tease in her voice.

‘I want you to cut it off, cut it really short’ he said, barely able to get the words out. He’d told her this the last time, hoping that she would tell him that she’d done it, but knowing that she would keep him dangling, keep him coming back for more. That was how these things worked after all. He tried to work out how much farther he could push her without being told not to call again.

Trish could hear Andy on the phone in the study when she came back in, but didn’t know who he was talking to. She was annoyed that she’d left her wallet on the counter and had to come back to get it, but now she was curious. Andy didn’t sound like himself, he was usually a bit louder on the phone than that. She hadn’t called out when she’d come in through the garage, so he probably didn’t know that she was back. She didn’t want to disturb him, but wanted to know why he sounded strange. She stood still and listened, her chest starting to pound. Who would he be asking to cut their hair? Why would he ask them to do it for him? She grabbed her wallet and hurried out of the house, needing time to think, not wanting to make a scene. There had to be a sensible explanation and she didn’t want to look foolish for jumping to the wrong conclusion. As she drove, she couldn’t think of one. She started to think the worst.

Her afternoon was ruined by what she’d heard. She tried to think if she had seen any signs of Andy acting different, what trips he had been on, but couldn’t think of anything. There must be an innocent explanation. She wondered whether there was a link to him having started to shave his pubes in recent times. Was that a clue that she should’ve picked up on? She liked that he did it, the same as she preferred to keep her pussy clean-shaven. They both looked better without hair down there, but it was a leap from that to what she thought she had discovered.

She went home and tried to act as normal as she could. She knew what she had to do, it was just a case of when she could do it. The perfect opportunity arose when Andy announced that he wanted to cut the lawn before dinner. She waited for the sound of the motor and then picked up his phone from the kitchen table. It was the moment that every wife dreads, particularly when she thought that they’d had it so good for the past nine years. They hadn’t started a family yet, but she liked to think that it was still on the horizon, even though they were both in their mid-thirties. Maybe that was what was missing?

Trish flicked through the menu to get to the call register. There it was. He hadn’t even tried to delete it or disguise it. “Alana”. Who was Alana? She made a note of the number and then scrolled back. There was the number again and again. She reached for the pen and paper, noting the dates and times of the calls before putting the phone back the way that she’d found it. It was time for some detective work.

It took Trish a while, but she managed to conclude that she hadn’t been with Andy when any of those calls were made. He’d either been on a trip, or she’d been at one of her classes or on a shopping trip. That was no coincidence. She took a deep breath, painfully aware of the sound of the mower engine in the garden.

Trish had an early night, struggling to keep her composure much longer. Her head was full of thoughts that she didn’t want to acknowledge, but she knew that she was right. Who was this woman and why did Andy want her to cut her hair? Was it because it reminded him of Trish’s own hair? Was it something like that? Sleep overtook her eventually and she wasn’t aware of Andy coming to bed.

The following day, Andy had to leave for work early, so she was spared the awkwardness of breakfast with him. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her cool and wasn’t sure if she should or not. Once he was gone, she got up and made coffee, sitting at the breakfast bar staring at her hand-written evidence. She knew what she had to do, but couldn’t do it from home. She got dressed and headed out to the mall, racking her brains to think where there was a payphone. She scrambled for coins in her bag, in the car ashtray, thinking how easy life was now with cell phones. She went to the phone and put her bag on the little shelf, looking around her to see if anyone was within earshot. She dialled.

She was confused for a moment. She had steeled herself for a confrontation with “the other woman”, but all she was hearing was a recorded announcement. She was being asked for more money, being told rates. It was some sort of chatline. She put the phone down. He hadn’t been talking to a real woman. Well, he had, but not one that there was any prospect of meeting. It was still another woman. It was the first wayward step down a path that she didn’t want him on. She was relieved, she was angry, she was confused.

Trish went and got a coffee, trying to process the new information. He’d thought about it, who doesn’t. She’d thought about it herself. There’s always some cute guy holding open a door or there on a street. Thinking about it isn’t so wrong, it’s the doing something about it that causes the pain. She really hoped that Andy hadn’t got that far. She wondered about him asking the girl to cut her hair. He hadn’t been asking how big her tits were or what colour underwear she had on, he was talking about her hair. Cutting her hair. Trish’s hand went up to fiddle with the ends of her own hair, twisting a tuft upwards like a paintbrush. It was brown, over her shoulders, with a slight kink. He’d never said he didn’t like it. He seemed to like it well enough when they were making love. Was that what he was thinking? That he wanted to cut it? Why hadn’t he told her? Why did he think he could talk to some cheap tart on a phone, some woman not even attractive enough to be on one of those webcam things? Did he know what she looked like? Did she look like Trish? Trish felt excluded.

Trish tried her best to act as if nothing was wrong when Andy came home, but he knew the signs.

‘What is it?’ he asked, putting his arms round Trish while she stirred something on the stove. The floodgates opened, despite her determination that it wouldn’t happen. Andy used all the generic consoling phrases in the hope that at least one of them would work. He hated it when she cried. The storm seemed to be abating, when during the lull he was sure he heard her say “Who’s Alana?”. That was crazy. Why would she say that? Another wave came and broke, with the same question once things had calmed a little. He tried to hold her more tightly, but she made it clear that she didn’t want to be held.

‘I won’t ask again’ she said, a hard edge to her voice.

Andy tried to work out how little he could admit to without total self-incrimination, but seeing her reach for her handbag brought home to him that this was the moment that he’d dreaded. He took a deep breath and prepared his confession.

It actually went as well as Andy could have hoped. He confessed to having discovered chatlines recently while away on business. He overlooked any mention of his favourite hair cutting websites and his collection of hair-related videos, saying only that he thought the girl’s hair was too long and he wanted her to do something about it. He then threw himself on the mercy of the court.

The jury went to the bedroom to consider its verdict behind closed doors. It would be a deliberation that went on throughout the night, leaving the defendant to worry about his fate and whether he’d have any clean clothes to wear to work in the morning. Andy spent the night in the spare room, wondering whether he was a condemned man. When he woke in the morning, everything he needed for work was laid out for him outside his room. He dressed and left for work, none the wiser.

The jury wasn’t ready to deliver its verdict for three days, during which time the same routine had played itself out. He had taken to grabbing a burger on the way home, because the kitchen was out of commission while the deliberations were ongoing. On the third day, he arrived home with indigestion, only to find that there was activity in the kitchen and there was the smell of cooking. The last thing that he wanted was more food, but he wouldn’t dare refuse anything that Trish had made for him if it meant that normality was a possibility again.

Trish didn’t reject his tentative peck on the cheek. She even made small talk while she served dinner, filling the time until she was ready to pronounce her judgement. In the end he was given credit for only talking to someone on the phone and even then, for not mentioning anything overtly sexual. He was warned about his future conduct and advised that full privileges would be restored. He acknowledged the mercy of the court and agreed to change his behaviour in future.

It was several days later when Trish asked Andy if he would tell her about what he’d asked the chatline girl to do. They were sitting together on the sofa watching television in the evening, her head resting on his lap.

‘I thought we were putting that behind us’ he replied, embarrassed and hoping that he wasn’t sounding defensive.

‘It’s just that I’ve been thinking about it a lot. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen. It was important enough to you to keep calling her. It excited you. I just thought that maybe we could do something together so that you don’t have to make furtive phone calls.’

He was glad that she couldn’t see him blush.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I thought maybe we could call her together. Put the phone on speaker. We could both talk to her.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘I’m curious. You could brush my hair while we talk to her. Who knows what might happen’ she said, squeezing his leg playfully.

‘I don’t know if she’d like that’ he replied, still surprised that she’d dug up this particular sleeping dog.

‘We could ask.’

‘They’re not cheap, these chatlines. You can’t just call up and shoot the breeze with them like that.’

‘They must be reasonable enough so that you’ve got time to do what you need to’ Trish replied circumspectly.

Andy didn’t know what to say.

‘Where’s the harm in trying?’ Trish persisted.

‘You’re serious?’

‘I’m going to have a shower. Have a think about it’ she said, getting up.

Andy watched her leave the room. He thought about what she was suggesting. It was certainly a scenario that he would want to play over in his mind and to give Trish credit, it wasn’t one that he had considered. Whether he actually wanted to sit and talk to Alana while Trish was there was another proposition altogether. Could he seriously talk to someone about his deepest fantasies when his wife was watching him? He tried to imagine how it would go, feeling the need to get a beer to help him think.

Trish came down from her shower and asked him whether he’d thought about what she’d said. He looked at her standing in front of him, telephone in one hand, hairbrush in the other. She was wearing a scarlet corset, a tiny pair of knickers and black stockings. That’s what Santa should look like he thought, not daring to say the words out loud.

‘Well?’ she asked, putting the phone and brush down.

‘You’re sure you want to?’

‘Do you think I’ve squeezed into this for a joke?’

‘Erm, sorry’ he replied.

‘Do you like it?’ she asked, doing a twirl.

‘You look beautiful’ he said, thinking that she hadn’t dressed up like this for longer than he cared to remember. He also thought that they had only made love once since he was caught and that was nothing to write home about. She was really making an effort and he thought that he probably should too.

‘Thank you. It’ll be on your credit card bill next month’ she said with a smile.

Trish sat on the floor leaning against the sofa, looking at Andy expectantly. He realised that she was waiting for him to dial the number, wondering what her reaction would be when he dialled from memory. She didn’t flinch. Would it have been worse for him to produce a piece of paper with the number on? He’d deleted Alana from his contact list on that first night and hadn’t actually written it down. Memories were harder to get rid of.

The messages at the start of the call took an age to come to an end.

‘Hi, this is Alana’ came the voice.

‘Alana, it’s Andy, the hair guy, do you remember?’ he said, his voice not as steady as it could’ve been.

‘Hi Andy. Long time no speak’ Alana said. Trish was pleased to hear that.

‘Alana. I thought we’d do something different. I’ve got you on speaker. My wife is here, She wants to talk to you too’ Andy said awkwardly.

‘No, no, I don’t want to get involved in any arguments’ Alana said.

‘Alana, I’m not here to argue. I’m here for some fun’ Trish said.

There was silence.

‘Alana, it’s true. You should see what she’s wearing’ Andy said.

‘I don’t know about this.’

‘Alana, I’m Trish. Would it help if Andy told you what I was wearing?’

‘Maybe’ Alana replied.

‘I don’t know the right names’ Andy said hesitantly.

‘It’s a corset’ Trish informed him. ‘Tell her what else I’m wearing.’

‘She’s got stockings on.’

Trish pointed to her knickers.

‘And tiny little panties.’

‘Sounds nice’ Alana replied.

‘It is’ Andy replied in response to a little dig from Trish.

‘Maybe we can try, see how it goes’ Alana said after a short pause.

‘Thank you’ Andy replied. Trish prompted him by tugging at her hair.

‘I was wondering if you’d thought any more about cutting your hair?’ Andy asked.

‘Thought about it a lot, but it’s such a big step’ Alana replied.

‘Andy doesn’t really appreciate how big a decision it is for a woman’ Trish confirmed quickly.

This comment seemed to be the one to break the ice. The stilted conversation started to flow more naturally, the distance between Andy and Trish closing as things progressed. Trish was leaning back against Andy, his hands sometimes exploring the intricate design on her corset, sometimes stroking her hair. However much the call was costing, it was proving invaluable as couple’s counselling. Andy was trying to talk, Trish was trying to get him undressed. He was starting to wonder whether they actually needed to be on the phone to Alana, but had to give her the credit for the current situation. He was talking on a chatline whilst being blown by his wife, how cool was that? Despite the novelty and excitement of the situation, he’d been careful not to let slip details about any other aspect of his hobby, hard as that was.

Alana claimed to be brushing her hair while they talked, comments from Trish absent because of what she was doing. Andy wondered whether Trish was trying to make him come while they were on the phone. She was certainly being enthusiastic enough. Maybe she really was Santa and Christmas had come early, just as he was about to do. Trish released him from her mouth, ignoring the frown that appeared on his face.

‘I was thinking that maybe the two of us could go to the salon together’ Trish said, her first comment for a while.

‘We could talk about it, sure’ Alana replied.

‘We should maybe finish’ Andy said. ‘Can we call you again?’

‘It’s been fun. Sorry about the start. It’s just, you know, you get some funny people calling’ Alana explained.

‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk to you soon.’

The call ended. Trish’s tiny knickers offered her little protection, allowing themselves to be nudged to one side as Andy slid into her urgently. They both knew that the situation had been too much for him and that he wouldn’t last long. Trish knelt firm, her backside in the air, grateful for each thrust. She tried to think of the last time that he’d been this eager, but before she found the answer, she was interrupted by his deep groan. It had been quick, but it was enough to confirm to Trish that the threatened derailment had been averted. Their relationship was well and truly back on track. She gave him a nudge with her backside to tell him that he could get off and then flipped herself over to sit opposite him.

She sat there with her knees raised, feet apart, trying to muster her filthiest look. She still had her knickers on, but they weren’t where they should have been and certainly weren’t covering anything up. She eased her lips apart, contracting her muscles to let him see what he had just gifted her.

‘That seemed to go quite well’ Trish said, licking her finger. ‘We should do that again. See if we can get her to go all the way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘See if she’ll actually cut it.’

‘How will you know?’

‘Get her to send you a picture, I don’t know. How hard can it be?’

‘Why would you want to?’

‘You seem to find the idea quite appealing’ she replied, getting up to crawl over to him. She cupped his balls, knowing that this was the best way to revive him for more.

‘I might need another drink first’ he said, getting up slowly. Trish lay back with her head resting against the armchair, admiring her outfit. Andy returned clutching a drink for each of them, quietly delighted with the way things had gone. He’d never seen Trish as relaxed as that, sprawled in the front room playing with herself. He took a long swallow of his drink and assumed the position.

Trish stroked Andy’s head as he licked her and teased her.

‘I can think of worse ways to say you’re sorry’ she said, hoping that he wouldn’t answer. She closed her eyes and let him do his thing.

‘How short should we tell her to cut her hair?’ Trish asked, before realising that she didn’t want to interrupt. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll talk about that later’ she added hastily. It was fifteen minutes or more before Andy was ready to talk.

‘I’ve been thinking…’ he started. She smiled, sated, content, waiting to hear what he had to say. They were lying intertwined on the floor, her head on his bare chest. ‘I was thinking that we’re not going to get her to cut her hair. She probably doesn’t want to do it anyway and We couldn’t verify that she hadn’t just photo-shopped a picture.’

‘So that’s a “no” then’ Trish said.

‘Pretty much.’

‘So why were you asking her?’

‘I just liked talking to her about her hair. I liked asking her to get it cut.’

‘You could talk to me. I don’t charge premium rate.’

‘I couldn’t talk to you like that. I’d be too embarrassed.’

‘We’ve just sat here and talked to her together. We’ve just had the most intense sex we’re probably ever had and you’re saying you’re embarrassed’ Trish said, her exasperation obvious. She was propped up on one elbow, but she decided that it was time to go and get cleaned up, leaving Andy alone with his thoughts.

Work consumed Andy for the rest of the week, so it was a relief when Friday even came around. He had barely seen Trish since their little session, although he’d thought about it at every opportunity. He got into his car, eager to get out of the car-park before the jobsworth locked him in for the weekend. He was pleased to get home, pleased to see that Trish seemed to be in a good mood. She kissed him when he came in, which wasn’t something that he often got and over dinner, she was chatty.

It was only when Andy sat in his armchair with a second glass of wine that he began to realise that there might be dessert on the menu. There weren’t many clues, but the telephone sitting on the coffee table and Trish’s careless posture as she sat in the other chair suggested that her good mood was likely to continue. She had crossed her legs as she sat, but in such a way as to leave a significant portion of stocking-top on display.

‘Andy?’ she said.

He looked away from the TV.

‘I was wondering if you maybe fancied giving Alana a call rather than watching anything on the box. How does that sound?’

‘I thought you said that I couldn’t talk to her again.’

Andy clicked the TV off. Trish shifted her position slightly, allowing her dress to ride up slightly higher. He could see flesh above her stocking-top and he knew that she knew that such a sight always did it for him, no matter how tired he was.

‘There’s no guarantee that she’ll be on tonight’ Andy cautioned.

‘Only one way to find out’ Trish replied, a stockinged foot pointing towards the phone. Andy dialled. They were in luck.

‘Hi, you two’ Alana replied once Andy had introduced themselves.

‘We thought we’d give you a little call, talk about your hair some more’ Trish said, taking the lead.

‘Sure’ Alana replied.

‘Have you thought anymore about the idea of meeting up somewhere, going to a salon together?’

‘I don’t know that it would be possible, what are the chances we live close enough to each other?’

‘We could meet halfway’ Trish replied.

‘It depends where you’re starting from’ Alana replied swiftly.

Further discussion around the subject of their respective locations came to a fruitless end, rather dampening the mood between Andy and Trish. The call ended, Andy and Trish went to bed, but couldn’t re-capture the intensity that had come from the first joint call.

Saturday morning brought golf for Andy and some free time for Trish. She picked up the phone and dialled.

‘Hi Alana. It’s Trish, the hair guy’s wife’ Trish said, waiting while Alana made the association.

‘Hi Trish. He’s letting you talk more and more’ Alana replied.

‘He’s not actually here. It’s just me’ Trish confessed.

‘What can I do for you then, Trish?’ Alana asked, slipping into her previous wariness.

‘I just wanted to talk to you while Andy isn’t here. Wondered if maybe we could work something out…’

‘Such as?’

‘I don’t know. Well, I do, I know that he wants you to cut your hair, but I don’t know if that’s something you’re prepared to consider. It would be such a turn-on for him.’

‘Wouldn’t it turn him on if you cut yours?’ Alana shot back, with the obvious retort.

‘He went to a lot of trouble to ask you rather than me, so I thought that it must be more important to him for you to do it.’

‘Has he asked you?’

‘No, he hasn’t.’

‘Would you, if he asked?’

‘I think so.’

‘So what happens if I tell him to ask you to cut yours, next time he calls me?’

‘I don’t think that would do it for him. It’s you that he was calling.’

‘But he can’t see my hair, can’t touch it. He can’t be there when I cut it’ Alana said.

‘You said “when I cut it”. Does that mean that you’re going to?’

‘Maybe.’

‘But how will he know that you have?’

‘I’ll post pictures on my blog.’

‘Does he know you’ve got a blog?’

‘I haven’t told him about it, so I doubt it’ Alana replied.

‘How does this work then? ‘I can’t keep calling you like this, it costs a fortune’ Trish said.

‘It’s probably best that you don’t call again until you’re ready.’

‘I don’t know what you mean’ Trish said.

‘You need to go first.’

Trish paused for a moment.

‘You mean you won’t get your hair cut unless I do?’

‘Precisely.’

‘How will you know that I have?’

‘You can email me a picture.’

‘Has Andy got your email address?’

‘I’ll set one up. You’ll need to do the same.’

‘So then we won’t need to keep calling. We can email?’ Trish said, pleased with the possibility of avoiding further phone calls.

‘Call me with an email address, then we’ll mail each other. Oh, one more thing…’

‘What?’

‘I get to choose your haircut’ Alana said.

Trish was stunned.

‘Why?’

‘Because I think Andy would like that.’

‘And one last thing…’

Trish barely dared ask.

‘Dare I ask?’

‘I don’t know. Do you?’

Alana seemed to be playing with her now.

‘What’s the second thing?’

‘You mustn’t tell Andy that you’re going to do it.’

‘What if it’s something he won’t like?’

‘I think he will.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t, but it’s a chance you’ll have to take, if you want to do this.’

‘Are you going to have the same cut as me?’

‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘This isn’t really fair. You get to choose my haircut, then you say that you’ll decide how you have your own cut. What about me?’

‘You get to find out just how appreciative Andy is for what you’ve done for him.’

‘That’s it?’

‘What else did you expect?’

‘I don’t know really. This is all very new to me.’

‘Call me when you’ve set up an email account. I’ll be waiting’ Alana said and the line went dead.

Trish sat there feeling a little deflated. The conversation hadn’t gone the way that she had expected. She had thought that Alana would be receptive to suggestions, but then realised that she was the one who had fallen into the chatline trap. Alana’s sole purpose was to get the punters coming back for more, so that she could earn more commission. She had no interest in Andy or his life, she was after money. But then if that was the case, why did she offer to provide an email address? Trish was confused. All she wanted was to show Andy that a little feminine guile could deliver something that he had failed to achieve for himself. A stranger on the other end of a phone would jump at the chance to cut her hair off, if only it was another woman who was asking. What could be more obvious? Trish’s confusion turned to mild embarrassment.

Trish fired up her laptop and created a throw-away email address. She didn’t know what else to do. Andy wouldn’t be home from golf for hours and if she went into town, she would probably buy things that she didn’t need, just as a means to take her mind off her brilliant plan that had burned on the launch-pad.

She dialled Alana’s number again. Engaged. Now she was getting annoyed. Her day was wasting away while some Shrek-like creature who couldn’t get a girlfriend tugged himself raw. Then she re-thought that last image. Andy was by no means like that, yet he had still called. She only had to think of how her first call had ended to know how wrong that idea was. There had to be more to it, but she couldn’t fathom it for the life of her.

Trish tried again and got through. Shrek must have shot his load pretty quickly, she thought, amusing herself. She spelled out the email address for Alana.

‘Thank you’ Alana said and hung up. Maybe she wasn’t just about money, Trish thought.

She waited almost a minute before checking to see if she had mail. She checked again and again while she drank a cup of tea sitting on one of the high breakfast bar stools. Nothing. It had been twenty minutes and all she had got was an irritating welcome email from the provider. She was just about to close the laptop down when there it was. An email from Alana. Trish felt a tingle of excitement as she clicked on it. She stared intently at the screen, Alana’s words were stark and unambiguous.

“Hi Trish

I want Andy to tell me how he liked fucking a bald woman.

Makes me wet just thinking about you having your hair shaved off. Remember, make sure it’s a surprise for him.

No more contact until you’ve felt his cum on your smooth scalp.

Enjoy!

Alana
xxx”

No matter how many times Trish read the email, it didn’t get any easier. Her little scheme had gone horribly wrong. She’d blown the relationship” with Alana, which Andy would probably be none too happy about. Despite the cost, she suspected that her guilt would mean that she would allow him to try to find someone else, even though she had told him that he was only to talk to her, if he ever felt the need to talk about his special interest. There was one small detail, however, that meant that there may be life in the idea. She was wet, just as Alana wrote that she was.

Trish read the email again slowly, her summer dress hitched up, her heat-seeking fingers rubbing herself slowly and deliberately while she pored over the words. She tried to form an image of herself without hair, wondering whether something so extreme would actually turn Andy on the way that Alana suggested. What would he say? What would he do if he didn’t like it? Was it just a cruel prank, a way for this woman to pass the time between perverts? Her fingers were getting more frantic with each glance at the screen.

Trish let the waves wash over her, reality encroaching once more. She was sitting at the breakfast bar, having orgasmed because a stranger told her to shave her head. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, one hand still resting “down below”. She thought about what Alana had said, thought about her discussions with Andy since she had blundered into his secret world. She had wondered how she would react if he asked her to cut her hair, thought about asking him to come and watch, maybe even join her for a haircut. Would he like that? Now someone that they didn’t know was suggesting that she should have her own guilty little secret, however short-lived. There was the possibility that he wouldn’t like it. There was the possibility that watching her have her hair cut off was his innermost desire and she would be excluding him from it. Not following Alana’s instructions would probably result in losing his link to her, whatever that was worth. What should she do?

She went upstairs and freshened up as quickly as she could and then headed into town. Her attention wasn’t as focussed on the road as it should have been, given everything else that was whirling around in her mind. Before she knew it, she was negotiating the ramp in the mall car park, looking for a space. She wouldn’t go in there as a rule, but it was nearer and spared her the usual trawl of various side-streets looking for a space. She tried to ignore the stark confines of the stairwell, remembering at the last minute to see which floor she was parked on, before making her way to the shopping level.

She ignored the various offers from hawkers as she walked past, not even taking the time to be annoyed at the intrusion. Her footsteps only slowed as she approached the salon, the only one that she knew of locally that claimed to welcome walk-ins. Here was their chance to prove it. Trish had been going to the same salon on the outskirts of town for over a year, so even though she walked past this one on a regular basis, she’d never considered trying it out. It looked nice enough as she walked in, not sure whether she liked the wide-open frontage or not. The receptionist looked up to greet Trish, engaging her with a smile, drawing her in.

‘Hi. I was wondering if you had anyone free for a cut’ Trish asked, wishing that she could look as confident as the perfectly groomed woman in front of her.

‘Hi, we do have Hayley available for you, if you’d like to come this way’ the receptionist said.

Trish had expected to have to wait for a few minutes, even in the best case scenario, time that she intended to use to think things through one last time. But here she was, following the receptionist into the salon, the final decision apparently made for her. Trish saw a girl put down the towel that she was folding and walk towards her.

‘Thanks Margot’ she said to the woman, before turning her full attention to Trish.

‘Hi, I’m Hayley, I’ll be doing your hair today’ the girl said, almost making Trish feel like she was glad to be there.

Hayley was a girl in her early twenties by the looks of things, although the long blonde hair may have made her look a little younger than she really was. Hayley was dressed in jeans and a simple white shirt, gathered at the waist with a chunky belt. Trish admired her knee-length boots, wondering whether she could get away with wearing something like them. She wasn’t sure.

‘Hi Hayley, I’m Trish’ she replied, holding out a hand in a formal greeting.

‘Let’s get you shampooed Trish and then we’ll see what we’re doing’ Hayley said.

‘It might be best if I told you what I want first’ Trish said.

Hayley looked at her, slightly thrown off-balance by the deviation from what she would normally do. This probably wasn’t a part of her training.

‘I’m all ears’ Hayley said.

‘I want to shave my head’ Trish said, surprised that she could get the words out with some semblance of calm.

Hayley looked wide-eyed, an expression that could only be interpreted as “You’re fucking kidding me!.” She reached up and touched the ends of Trish’s hair, before moving to the side so that she could see exactly how long Trish’s hair was.

‘When you say “shave”, what do you mean exactly?’ Trish asked, her demeanour returning to normal.

‘All off. Smooth, if you can do it’ Trish replied, hearing the words, but scarcely believing that she was uttering them.

‘You really do mean “shaved”, don’t you? It’s just that we get some people come in who ask us to shave their heads, when what they really mean is to give them a crewcut, but that’s not what you mean, is it?’

Trish shook her head.

‘You don’t look like you want me to try to get you to change your mind.’

‘I just want to do it, if you’re okay with that’ Trish replied.

‘I’m here to advise, if you want advice or to do what you want me to do if you’ve already made a decision.’

‘The decision’s made. I’m going to do it’ Trish said resolutely, although still feeling far from sure about Andy’s reaction.

Hayley led Trish to a styling station and combed out her hair with confident strokes. Trish watched as the hair fell into place, mostly thanks to the trim that she’d had less than three weeks before. The wave was hardly evident when it was wet, but dry as it was at that moment, Trish could have laid claim to having curly hair, albeit a very loose curl.

‘I’ve got to ask you one last time, you’re quite sure you want all of this off?’ Hayley asked, doubt and regret mixed in her voice.

‘Quite sure’ Trish nodded, wondering whether she should have gone to a barber shop and just had some no-nonsense old boy do it without a second thought.

‘Okay, here goes’ Hayley said, gathering Trish’s hair into a pony tail. Trish looked at herself in the mirror, thinking that she didn’t wear her hair in a ponytail much, thinking of it as something to keep her hair out of the way while she did her face, but she actually quite liked the way that it looked. Too late now!

Hayley had twisted a rubber band around Trish’s hair and was reaching for scissors.

‘So what brought this on, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while’ Trish lied. ‘You know, something to look back on when I’m old. I thought I’d surprise my husband’

‘He doesn’t know you’re doing this?’

‘I told him I might, but I’m not convinced he thinks I’m serious’ Trish replied, feeling awkward about lying like that. She felt the to-ing and fro-ing against the back of her head as Hayley manipulated the scissors through the rope of her hair.

‘He’ll know you’re serious now’ Hayley said, holding up the severed tail.

‘Was that all mine?’ Trish asked.

‘You can take it with you if you want.’

‘We’ll see’ Trish replied, wondering whether Andy would like it and what he would do with it if she presented him with it.

‘Right, we can see where we’re going a bit better now’ Hayley said, combing through Trish’s hair again. Trish was looking at herself in the mirror, watching how her hair had settled back around her face. Hayley started to muss up Trish’s hair, playing with it, seeing how it behaved, still clinging to the idea that Trish would see sense before it was too late.

‘What about your husband. Don’t you want to ask him first?’

‘It would spoil the surprise a bit if I did that’ Trish replied.

Hayley busied herself in one of the drawers. She took out some electric clippers. The sort of things you see in salons that are always for someone else, Trish thought. Now they were for her.

Hayley smiled at her as she readied the clippers.

‘Don’t look so worried. You don’t have to do this’ she said comfortingly.

‘I can’t back out now’ Trish said, not realising that she looked so worried.

‘Who says you’ll be backing out? I can do you a nice elfin crop and bleach it for you if you want to do something dramatic. You don’t have to shave it off to feel you’re doing something radical.’

‘It’s the “shaving it off” that’s important’ Trish replied.

‘Okay then. I’ll go progressively shorter so that you can change your mind if it’s too much of a shock’ Hayley said.

‘I’d rather just go for it, I think’ Trish said.

‘You’re quite sure?’ Hayley asked, looking at Trish intently. If she was looking for signs of uncertainty, there were plenty there. Hayley took off the plastic guard that she’d just attached and looked at Trish once more. She moved to take up a position behind Trish and then Trish heard a gentle humming sound, kinder than she’d expected when she’d first seen the clippers. Hayley asked Trish to tip her head forward. Trish felt several strokes around the back of her head and then the sensation stopped.

‘Do you want to see what it feels like?’ Hayley asked.

‘I’ll wait until you’ve finished’ Trish replied, pleased that the process had started. She suspected that Hayley was offering her yet another chance to back out. Hayley nodded and asked Trish to lift her chin back up. Trish watched entranced as the humming machine approached and then started to cut a path through the hair on her crown. Hair that she’d spent ages washing this morning. She watched Hayley work her way across the top of her head, any reservations that she’d had, now replaced by confident sweeps with the clippers. Trish could see that Hayley was leaving her with little more than a five o’clock shadow and wondered if this was what love is all about.

Hayley manipulated the clippers with precision and without any of the discomfort that Trish was expecting from something so destructive. It hadn’t been an unpleasant experience, even if the end result was dramatic. There was no denying it, it was still a shock despite the lust that had driven her to agree to do it. She had walked in with hair breaking over her shoulders and almost all of it was now on the floor around the chair.

‘Please say you don’t hate me’ Hayley said, turning the clippers off.

‘I don’t hate you at all. You’ve done what I asked you to do.’

Trish reached out to feel. She felt man-head. Not her head, with its conditioned mane. It was a man’s head, but it gave her more than a little frisson of excitement.

‘What do you think?’

‘I didn’t think you’d cut it so short with just the clippers.’

‘You said we’re going all the way. Did you want to leave it longer?’

‘No, I just mean that I didn’t think that the clippers could take it so short all at once.’

‘You had me worried for a moment there’ Hayley laughed.

‘Can you get it smoother than this though?’

‘I’ll need to use a razor, is that okay?’

‘Whatever you need to do. I don’t fancy doing it myself when I get home.’

‘I’m happy to do it. It isn’t something you get to do everyday’ Hayley commented. She went in search of a razor, leaving Trish with her thoughts. She was conscious of people looking at her, one of the stylists in particular. Trish was about to go and ask her if she wanted a picture, when Hayley came back.

‘I knew we had some somewhere’ she said, holding up a razor and a can of foam.

Trish smiled her response, wondering whether she really should be smiling at the prospect of having her head shaved with a razor. Not that it would make much difference anymore. She felt a shudder when the cold foam touched her scalp, but the feeling was quickly overcome by Hayley’s hands circling her scalp gently, spreading the foam across her head. Trish wasn’t quite sure how to react to the sight of herself in the mirror, her head capped with white. The novelty of seeing herself like that was quickly replaced by the first stroke with the razor. Trish had felt herself flinch as it approached, but then realised that she had nothing to fear. Hayley’s touch was light, the razor gliding harmlessly over Trish’s skin. Harmless to everything but her hair, though, Trish thought. She watched, fascinated as the foam receded, giving way to skin that no longer bore the shadow of the hair that had been there.

In a matter of minutes, the job was done.

‘So, that’s you then. Pleased?’ Hayley asked, wiping stray foam from round Trish’s ears.

‘You’ve done a wonderful job.’

‘I just hope that husband of yours likes it.’

‘So do I’ Trish replied, still not entirely sure that he would.

Trish walked out to reception with Hayley, looking in every mirror she passed on the way. The receptionist’s face was a picture when she saw Trish.

‘You look gorgeous’ she said.

‘I hope so’ Trish replied with a chuckle, thinking that she wished she could give the woman a hug. It was the best thing that she could have heard at that moment. Hayley waited while Trish paid and then handed Trish a card. ‘There’s our number. Give me a ring won’t you?’

‘Of course, I will’ Trish replied, discretely passing Hayley the most generous tip she had ever given to a hairdresser.

‘Thanks so much Trish’ Hayley said.

‘You’re welcome.’

Trish turned towards the mall exit, pausing to look just once more at herself in the mirror before she faced an unsuspecting world. It was a world that proceeded to ignore her for the most part or paid her only scant attention at best. A bald woman wasn’t such a big deal to the wider world, after all, Trish thought, relieved.

She headed out of the mall to a little shop that she had been meaning to visit for ages, but had never felt sufficiently motivated to go in. She had been a little self-conscious before, but now she breezed in, meeting the assistant’s smile with one of her own. The assistant was in her thirties probably, slim, wearing a short red dress that was skimpy enough to show the edges of what had to be a large tattoo wrapping around from her back, infringing on her neck and down onto her chest where it disappeared beneath her neckline. Her hair was a precision-cut short black bob. She went well with the rest of the store. Conventional with a touch of exotic just out of sight.

‘Let me know if I can help’ the woman said. Trish acknowledged her and started to browse, before realising that she would like some help, if only to save time. She looked up to attract the woman’s attention.

‘Actually, I think I do need some help’ Trish said.

‘Of course, what are you looking for?’ the woman asked.

‘Do you have a “feminine, but rather slutty” section?’ Trish asked with a smile.

‘We certainly do. What sort of thing were you looking for?’

‘My mother called them “corsets”, but I suspect that you don’t.’

‘Perfectly good word. Are we talking satiny-type things or something else?’

‘I was thinking satin and lace, but I’m open to new ideas.’

‘Love the hair by the way. Really suits you’ the assistant said.

‘Thank you. If you’d seen me an hour ago, I had dark hair down to here’ Trish replied, pointing to her shoulder. The assistant gasped.

‘What brought that on, if I may ask?’

Trish took a breath and told her, pleased to be able to share her story. The assistant nodded and smiled appropriately, rapt as she listened.

‘And that’s it’ Trish proclaimed.

The assistant touched Trish on her arm. ‘I think we should be looking over here’ she said, leading Trish towards the left-hand side of the store.

‘Okay’ Trish said slowly as she saw what was on offer.

Trish’s quick raid on the shop ended up taking over an hour, including coffee-break. By the end of it, she had gained a potential new friend as well as things for her wardrobe. She clutched the pretty pink carrier bags and headed back to the car, wondering if the rest of the day was going to be as eye-opening as the morning had been.

Trish grabbed an apple for lunch, not really wanting to waste the time on eating. She went upstairs and was in the shower within seconds, water tumbling onto her naked scalp. She caressed her head with her fingertips, marvelling at the hairless finish that Hayley had achieved. Trish had asked for “smooth” and that was certainly what she’d got. There wasn’t a missed bit anywhere, her hair really was all gone. She reached for the new razor that she had unwrapped, determined to replicate the finish on her pussy. She would openly admit to rushing the job on occasions, doing it just well enough to pass cursory inspection, but today it had to be perfect. Collar and cuffs had to match by their total absence.

She turned the shower off and stood looking at herself in the mirror, trying to appreciate herself the way that a man might. She stood there, legs slightly parted, her hands squeezing her boobs while she looked from her bald pussy to her bald head. The bald pussy was a familiar sight these days, ever since the landing strip had become a casualty of a bit of pre-holiday rashness last year. The bald head would take some getting used to, but the reaction of the woman in the lingerie shop made Trish determined to persevere with it. Trish pinched her nipples, trying to distract her fingers from what they really wanted to do.

Trish dried herself and put a robe on to go downstairs. She thought that if he needed her to sign for something, the postman would be freaked out enough by the sight of her bald, without the additional element of nudity. She made tea and headed for the laptop, reading Alana’s email with a smile before hitting “Reply”.

“It’s done. Picture to follow” she wrote. Her finger hesitated over the “Send” button, but then she clicked anyway. There was no harm in letting Alana know that she needed to give serious thought to what she was going to do with her own hair. She finished her tea, enjoying doing nothing except sitting, barely moving except for the occasional stroke of her scalp, each touch re-affirming that she really had shaved her head. She looked at her watch, realising that Andy could be home soon, or not, depending on who he had met at the golf club. She wanted to be ready for him.

Trish went back upstairs, steeling herself for the challenge ahead. She’d gone into that shop with a certain image in her mind, soft and sexy to offset the starkness of her freshly-shaven head, but she’d allowed Jennifer, the assistant, to plot an altogether different course. Trish laid out her purchases on the bed, setting aside the pretty, “safe” option. She touched the other option gingerly, trying to convince herself that she liked its feel. As much as she wanted to present herself to Andy in the familiar, she was sticking with what Jennifer had called the “shock and awe” approach. Andy was probably going to be stunned to see her bald, so why not go the whole hog and knock his socks off. She reached for the talcum powder.

Trish was still looking in the mirror when she heard the front door. It was too late to change now. She took a deep breath and prepared to match Andy’s “honey, I’m home” with her own “honey, I’m bald”. In her mind at least. She tidied her things away, safe in the knowledge that Andy would go for a shower before he came into the bedroom. She wondered where the first encounter should take place, should she wait there or go into the bathroom. Wait for him in the kitchen possibly? She stayed where she was, sitting at her dresser, waiting for the familiar pattern of sounds that would allow her to track his progress. The water eventually stopped flowing, it went quiet while he dried himself, the lid of the laundry basket clattered, she heard the light switch. It was time. The door opened and a naked Andy breezed in, stopping abruptly.

Trish greeted him with a smile. She stood up. Andy looked at the bald woman in the black PVC corset, bald pussy on display, boobs exposed, nipples erect.

‘You haven’t seen my wife have you? About your height, dark wavy hair to her shoulders’ he asked.

Trish closed the gap between them, the response of Andy’s cock not escaping her. She hurried up the process by cupping his balls as soon as she was within range. His eyes were fixed on her head. His cock was fully hard already.

‘Whatever you tell me, I know that you like it’ she said leaning in to kiss him. It was a lustful kiss, one that had been brewing since she spoke to Alana. His hands were exploring the alien wrapper on his wife, his mind wanting to question her, her tongue preventing him. It was clear to him that she didn’t want to talk just yet, but he was desperate to know what had led her to shave her head. Had she stumbled on something else that had betrayed his most profound turn-on? There didn’t seem to be any animosity or hostility, so he suspected that this wasn’t what had led her to do it. For the time being, he thought it best just to accept it and judging from the wetness at her centre, that was the correct response.

She was on her knees, drawing his cock into her mouth to the point of gagging, before releasing him and assuming his favourite position. If only he’d known that this was waiting for him at home, he wouldn’t have stood at the clubhouse bar talking about football and other nonsense. She spread herself wide, sighing as he entered her, responding to his every thrust until he could hold back no more. Andy felt his enthusiasm drain into her, committing the sight of her PVC-framed arse to memory before lying down beside her.

It took several minutes for them to feel ready to speak.

‘So, I had a good game. One of my better ones’ Andy said.

‘Don’t you want these anymore?’ Trish asked, her hand grasping his balls.

‘I’m sure you’ll tell me in your own sweet time’ he replied.

‘Not if you don’t want me to’ she replied.

He did. She told him everything, even going as far as going downstairs to fetch the laptop so that Andy could read Alana’s email for himself. She had decided that the postman wouldn’t be coming this late, so made the dash in just the corset for the thrill. She made it back upstairs without incident, but as she put the laptop down, she saw that there was a reply from Alana.

Trish wanted to read the reply, but thought that it would be more fun if they read it together. She told Andy to hurry up and read the first email quickly, the one where Alana told Trish what to do and then told him to click on the latest one.

“Trish

I start on webcams next week. Boss wants me with long hair. Won’t be cutting it. Sorry.

Alana”

Andy and Trish stared at the screen.

‘Bitch!’ Trish said, pushing the laptop to one side. ‘I did this for nothing’ she added, deflated all of a sudden.

Andy reached over and stroked her head.

‘Alana, thank you and goodbye’ he said, leaning in to kiss Trish. Trish looked deep into his eyes as he broke the embrace.

‘You’re not mad?’ she asked.

‘Why should I be, you’re beautiful and you’re all mine’ he said, a hand trailing down the corset.

‘But I’ve shaved my head for nothing!’

‘You’ve shaved your head. You’re beautiful. You wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t asked you’ he replied. Andy had started to plant little kisses on her body, each one going lower and lower.

Trish thought for a moment. ‘You’ve got a thing about bald women, haven’t you?’, the reality dawning on her. She felt his tongue touch her.

‘Do you really think you can avoid answering by doing that?’ she said, closing her eyes and arching her back. Andy’s defence would be that he had been brought up never to speak with his mouth full.

They were lying with legs intertwined almost an hour later, basking in what they had just shared.

‘I think you’ve killed him’ Andy said with a nod towards his groin.

‘Nonsense, he’s just not used to such a lengthy workout’ Trish replied, squeezing Andy’s leg between her thighs. It wouldn’t actually surprise her if she had worn “little Andy” out. He didn’t go down without a fight, although she sincerely hoped that he would live to fight another day, particularly now she knew what his real inspiration was.

They showered and dressed for dinner. Trish said that they deserved to treat themselves and had booked a table at their favourite restaurant, although the real reason that she wanted to go was to show off her new “hairstyle”. It took her a little longer than usual to do her make-up while she experimented a little. She discovered that she needed to be slightly bolder than she had been before, which went for her earrings too. Eventually she was happy and went down to present herself to Andy for inspection.

Andy looked at her as she came into the lounge door. He didn’t say anything. She looked at him.

‘Well?’ she asked.

‘I think he’s still alive’ Andy said, looking down at his groin.

‘That’s all you think about isn’t it?’

‘I didn’t hear you complaining. Oh no, I did!’ Andy replied.

‘Come on, let’s go’ Trish said with a smile.

Andy had a hand on her back as they entered the restaurant, knowing that she was slightly nervous. It was only once they’d been shown to a table that she leant forward to whisper to him.

‘They’re all looking at me’ she said.

‘No they’re not. They’re looking at me, wondering how I could get such a beautiful woman’ he replied.

‘You really think so?’

‘Of course. You look spectacular!’

Trish was so pleased. He’d never called her that before. She settled down to enjoy her meal, wondering whether he knew that she was wearing her other purchase underneath her dress. This one was more traditional, but she hoped he would find it just as pleasing as the other outfit. She smiled at him.

‘What?’

‘I was just thinking about you coming with me next time’ she said.

‘Next time for what?’

‘Next time I get my head shaved’ she replied.

‘So there’s going to be a next time?’

‘If you come too’ she replied coyly.

‘You know I’ll always happy to watch you get your head shaved’ he replied.

‘You know that’s not what I meant’ she said, pressing her foot down on his.

‘Can you really see me as a slap-head?’

‘I can see you in the spare room when we get home’ Trish replied.

‘That’d be such a waste.’

‘A waste of what?’

‘A waste of whatever you’ve got under that dress’ he replied. He was obviously more observant than she gave him credit for.

‘You’ll like her. She’s called Hayley. Early twenties, nice figure. Long blonde hair.’

‘You almost had me, right up to the long, blonde hair bit’ Andy replied.

‘So you’re saying you prefer a bald thirty-something over a blonde twenty-something?’

‘Let’s go home and I’ll show you’ Andy replied.

As they walked to the car, Trish observed that they hadn’t mentioned Alana once during the course of the evening.

‘Who?’ Andy asked.