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"Accounting for Change" by Dreamer

'It's not the end of the world, Angela, you can turn it round' I said, becoming concerned at the serious look on the woman's face. It is never easy to tell someone that their business is going to fail unless they do something pretty quick and that is the situation that I was in. Angela had tried to kid herself that all was going okay, but since opening the salon two months ago she wasn't covering her costs and it was only a matter of time before things got beyond the point of no return.

She had initially talked to a male accountant, who, from what I could gather, had told her exactly the same things that I was telling her. She hadn't wanted to believe him and had got in touch with me, thinking that a female might be able to understand her and her business better than a man. I certainly understood both, but that didn't alter the conclusion. I had watched her eyes become slightly teary, but then she had pulled herself together and she was becoming receptive to my suggestions as to what she could do to improve her turnover and ultimately her profitability.

There was nothing clever about what I told her, it was just a case of getting her to agree that she needed to raise the profile of the salon and to generate more cash through add-on sales once she had a customer in the salon.

'But we tried to get publicity when we opened' Angela protested when I suggested that she needed to get some press coverage.

'Well, you need to do it differently. Give people a reason to come to you rather than anyone else' I advised.

'How?'

'You'll probably find that some sort of charity event will get the local press interested and then you can use that to tell people about the salon' I replied.

We ran through a few ideas and wound the meeting up. 

'Let me know how you get on' I said as I left the salon.

I walked back to my car, hoping that Angela had taken on board what I had said. It was never nice to have to tell someone that their dream is going to become a nightmare and I really hoped that Angela would come up with something. I liked her and wanted her to succeed, not just because she represented an income stream for my own burgeoning practice.

It was probably three weeks later when I got an invitation through the post to a 'Charity Event' at Angela's salon. There was a hand-written note attached to the invitation that just said 'Would love you to come'. I put it to one side and opened the rest of my post. The day progressed and it was only as I was packing up to go home that I remembered Angela's invitation. I picked it up and glanced at it. She had gone for one of those charity haircut things. Always good to get interest from the press, I thought. I checked my calendar and struck through the last slot of Friday afternoon. I could spare her half an hour off the clock, I thought as I reached for my keys.

The rest of the week was quite busy and I didn't give Angela's fund-raising a further thought. In the end it was touch and go as to whether I would be able to get there at all, but I didn't want to let her down if I could help it. I locked my car and ran across the road to a cash machine, so at least I would have some money to sponsor somebody. The money would be helping Angela indirectly, I hoped, but it would also be helping someone in great need. I made it to the salon about five minutes late and was pleased to see a reasonable gathering of people there. Most importantly there was a woman with a notepad and a guy with a camera. Angela had cleared the first hurdle by getting the press there, so everything was looking positive.

I had never been to one of these events before, although I had seen the odd article in the paper about them from time to time. It was weird, standing there with a glass of champagne, watching someone in the chair ready to get their hair cut, while somebody else stands there making a speech for the local 'worthies'. I could tell that Angela was nervous, clearly not used to public speaking, but possibly also because she had realised how much this event meant for the future of her business. She kept her comments brief and then she was back in more familiar territory. 

As far as I could see, she had three 'victims' lined up and she was the only stylist. That was good, keep the focus on her, I thought.

'Ready?' she asked, her head inclined towards the caped donor. The woman's hair had been drawn into a pony-tail, not the most impressive that I had ever seen, but good on her for being prepared to stand up and be counted. Angela checked briefly with the photographer that he was ready, that he had the angle that he wanted and then she used electric clippers to cut through the hair, just above an elastic band. After making heavy work of it for dramatic effect, she held the pony tail up as a trophy to much applause from the dozen or so in the audience. She smiled towards the camera and then checked with the woman in the chair that all was well with her.

'Don't worry, I'll tidy it up for you in a minute' I heard her tell the woman.

It appeared that she had been instructed to keep things moving so that the photographer could get the shots that he wanted. He didn't look overly interested in what he was doing and was probably more at home taking pictures of car crashes or sport. I just hoped that he got something that the paper could use, otherwise Angela would be wasting her time.

The woman in the chair got up and a second woman was ushered in. Looks-wise, this second woman could have been a relative of the first woman. Plain with shoulder-length mousey hair, no real personality coming across. The haircut was very similar to the first and I spent as much time watching the photographer as I did the action in the chair. He lowered the camera from his eye at an early stage and didn't bring it back up. The woman didn't apparently merit a photograph in recognition of her generosity.

Angela held the pony-tail up and was greeted with a smattering of applause. The sheepish woman got out of the chair, her now short-bob length hair swinging at her jaw-line as she walked away to be hugged by the first woman.

At that moment Angela caught my eye, smiling at first, but then changing her expression to one that I could only interpret as a plea. She knew that things weren't going as well as they might. The woman that I had thought of as the third volunteer had made no move towards the chair and I wasn't sure if she had chickened out or was only ever intending to be there as a supporter. Angela held the cape up towards me to leave me in no doubt as to what she wanted. I ran my hand through my hair sub-consciously. 

Without wishing to sound arrogant, I'm a few years younger than the first two women and a good deal more photogenic. I was still wearing my business suit, so I looked smart and whilst my hair was no longer than theirs, just down onto my shoulders, I could see why Angela was angling for me to do something. In those few moments, the feeling of guilt started to build. It had been my idea indirectly that she should hold some sort of event, she was my client and in a way I was probably more of a stakeholder in the future of the business than most of the people present. Against that, I had to balance the fact that I hadn't worn my hair in a bob since I was at university and I had become used to myself with hair sweeping my shoulders. 

'What do you say Kerry?' Angela said, leaving no-one in any doubt that she was trying to coax me into the chair. I had been fully prepared to make a financial contribution to the event, but had not for one minute considered that I would be involved in any other way. Should I put myself on the line because Angela had only managed to get a commitment from a couple of people?

I paused for a moment and then moved forward towards Angela. The thoughts going through my head deadened the sound of applause as I approached, but I could tell from the enthusiastic hand movements that what I was about to do was appreciated. Angela mouthed a silent 'Thank you' to me as we crossed and I took my seat. She covered me with the same pink cape that she had used for the other two women and then moved behind me to flick my hair from where it had been trapped. I was pondering the money that I had effectively wasted on a trim only last week when my pondering was interrupted by a male voice.

'Angela, can you get me something a bit more dramatic for the front page?' the voice asked.

'What do you mean' she asked, combing my hair through on auto-pilot. I felt her twist my hair into an elastic band to create the pony-tail in preparation for its sacrifice.

'You know, not just a pony-tail being cut off, something that will get people's attention straight away' he said.

I didn't like the way that this conversation seemed to be going.

'Angela, I just want...' I started to say.

'Take it all off' came a voice from somewhere behind me.

'Angela!' I said. She looked at me and then over my head towards the heckler before settling back on me.

'How about a bit more than just the pony-tail?' she asked.

I could sense someone approaching and turned slightly, to be confronted by the business end of a camera.

'To tell you the truth, love, I'm going to need to see skin if it's going to make it into the paper' the gruff voice said.

Skin? My skin. That wasn't the deal, I thought. I could live with losing my pony-tail. After all, it was probably the sort of push that I would need to try something different, but not anything more drastic than that.

'Angela, I can't. I can't do that, not with work' I emphasised.

I felt a slight pull as she ran my pony-tail through her hand. We were at an impasse it seemed, with the photographer and Angela waiting to see who would blink first. I heard the clippers come to life once more and felt Angela adjusting her grip on my hair. The photographer came round from behind me and put his camera to his eye.

'How about if I just put the clippers here, just for the photo?' Angela asked him. I felt the clippers rest on my forehead as Angela demonstrated what she meant.

'I'd need an action shot to make it worthwhile' he replied.

Angela paused and then said 'Sorry' quietly.

All at once I heard a couple of people clap, somebody cheered, I heard the shutter of a camera and I heard a change in the sound of the clippers

. Some of my hair fell into my lap.

'You really did it?' I exclaimed. Angela paused in what she was doing, the photographer took more pictures from slightly different angles. I was just about to start shouting when I remembered the gathered onlookers and press. A reaction like that would make me the talk of the town. I could just imagine the headlines about a money-grabbing accountant objecting to helping those less fortunate than herself. I bit back on the words, wondering how I was going to explain  to my clients what had happened. I was "between boyfriends" too, so how was that going to pan out? I'd have to wait for a while until I had got back to some sort of respectable length before I could consider dating again.

Without another word, Angela carried on from where she had paused. It was too late for me to do anything other than to let her finish, so I decided to hold my tongue and accept my fate with good grace. I tried to tell myself that it would grow back, but that was scant comfort for what was being done to me. In the end, I convinced myself that whatever was being done was minor in comparison with the real suffering that other people have to endure and that calmed me down. I went with the flow, moving my head obligingly when Angela nudged me and tried to find some way to make light of the situation where my expensively cut hair was now gathering in a heap around me. I couldn't see a mirror, so I dreaded to think what I looked like now.

The clippers fell silent and applause rang out from everyone in the salon, it seemed. I posed for a moment for a couple of photographs and then there was nothing that I wanted more than to get out of there. I reached for the fastening on the gown, but Angela beat me to it, freeing me from the pink material. She looked at me carefully, partly I guessed to see whether she had done a good job and partly to gauge my reaction. I rewarded her with a weak smile, but I was in no mood to play too nice with her.

'I've got to go Angela. All the best with the rest of it' I said, gathering my bag and heading for the door. I could hear voices behind me, but I just wanted to be on my own. I was annoyed at Angela for doing what she did, but I could also see that she did it out of desperation. At that moment though, I wasn't sure whether she would still be a client of mine in the morning.

I saw my reflection in the window of the shop next door to the salon and looked away in shock. I reached up to my head in case what I saw was some sort of illusion, but stroking my scalp only confirmed that I was bald. There was a slight rasp from the stubble left behind, but that was of no comfort whatsoever. I was bald, pure and simple. A bald accountant. A bald woman. Fucking bald! 

I avoided the mirror in the hall when I got home and headed straight into the shower. I could feel tiny pieces of what used to be my hair along my neck and I just wanted to wash them away. I stood in the shower for what must have been ages, my tears mingling with the jet of water. The longer I cried, the more I started to convince myself to get a grip. What had happened to me wasn't what I wanted, but it was by no means the end of the world. It would mean a few explanations over the coming weeks and months, a few more of the stares that I had experienced on the way home, but nobody had been actually harmed. I could wear a wig, I could wear a scarf, it really wasn't that bad, I started to repeat.

I had washed everywhere except my head while I stood and wallowed in self-pity. My next move was to grapple with the issue that had caused me to wallow. I reached for the shampoo, drew back from it thinking how foolish I was being and then decided "Why not? What else would I use?" I poured some into the palm of my hand and reached up tentatively. I didn't recoil from the sensation the way that I had when I looked in that shop window. I moved my hand slowly, beginning to build up a lather and then moved it more vigorously. I raised my other hand and started to massage my scalp, marvelling at how easily my lubricated fingers moved across my skin. My eyes were closed and I pictured myself back in Angela's salon, going over the steps that had led me to this position. Surely she had realised my reluctance to even have my pony-tail cut off? Why had she done what she had done?

The sights of the salon were replaced by the memory of that first glimpse of my hairless head in the shop-window. It was a shock at the time, but now I was starting to think differently. I wasn't sad at the loss anymore, if anything I was starting to feel a rather pleasant warmth as my hands moved. My right hand moved down across my chest, brushing a nipple, fingers circling, pinching, twisting. I was actually getting turned on by the feel of my shaven head! After standing there for who knows how long crying about it, I was now playing with myself at the thought of it. How crazy was that?

My fingers crossed my stubbly mound and then headed for their favourite place. I actually smiled at the thought that the stubble on my pussy was actually longer than the stubble on my head. That reminded me that it had been a good few days since I had shaved down there, but it helped to lighten my mood a little more. My pleasure was almost ruined when I slipped slightly as I repositioned myself, but I managed to hold my balance. Now that really would have looked good in the local paper: bald accountant dies during sex-play gone wrong! 

I was just at a critical moment when I heard my phone ring. I ignored it and tried to get back to the task in hand, but it was only moments between the phone stopping ringing and it starting again. I ignored it again and just as it stopped, I felt waves breaking over me. I arched my back, savouring my release. I lathered myself and reached for my razor, eager to rid myself of the stubble that I had found strangely intrusive as I toyed with myself. I was well-practised at this as it had been several years since I had allowed my pubes to grow. An ex-boyfriend had asked me to do it for him and I had agreed, even though I found the request a little strange at the time. Now I can't imagine myself with a full bush; it just seems wrong somehow. I had got the act of shaving myself down to a fine art. I finished quickly, stroking myself slowly to check that I hadn't missed anything. My hand went to my head to feel the contrast and I stood there, one hand on my scalp, the fingers of the other drawing small circles on my mound and sliding back into my slit. I looked at the razor, wondering how it would feel if I got rid of what stubble there was. I smiled at how stupid that thought was after the emotional turmoil of what had happened to me earlier, but here I was, thinking that it might feel better to have a completely shaven head that the slightly stubbly one that I had been left with. How did that sit with hating the reflection that I saw in the shop window? It's amazing how a couple of fingers up the pussy can change your perspective!

I got out of the shower and dried myself, thinking all the while about whether I should shave my head or not. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself properly for the first time since Angela ran those clippers over my head. I started low and worked my way up, assessing my body in a way that I hadn't for quite a while. I ran through the key areas like a checklist. thighs: good; pussy: bald and contoured; belly: pretty good; boobs: great; face: slight smile, slightly worried; head: still bald. It was much better than I thought. My eyes looked bigger, my ears didn't stick out in the way that I feared. It was strange, but I thought that I still looked feminine. Certainly standing there in front of the mirror, no-one would doubt that I was a woman, even with a bald head!

I was going to do it. I was so close that I might as well. I reached into the shower cubicle for the can of shaving foam and spread it over my scalp, feeling carefully where stubble ended and proper hairless skin began. I laughed to myself as I looked in the mirror and saw my head covered with a white cap. That made me think of the practicality of facing the world; was I going to wear a hat or a wig or would I brave it out?

The first strokes were tentative, but once made, had to be continued. It took me the best part of an hour's careful shaving to complete the job to my satisfaction, but it was an hour well spent. Gone was the dark shadow and in its place was just smooth skin. Sensually smooth skin. I stood in front of the mirror for longer than necessary, examining myself from as many angles as I could, learning about the new me, learning to like the new me. There was no way that I could carry the anger that I had felt for any length of time, I just had to get on with things and this close examination was a part of that process. 

I padded down the stairs, still naked, to look at my phone. Predictably both the missed calls and a follow-up text were from Angela. "I'm so sorry" the text read. I didn't want to talk to her at that moment, so I put the phone back down on the table. I poured a glass of wine and curled up on the sofa, pondering. It was during this bout of pondering that I remembered that I was away on Monday visiting a client that I had had since I started out on my own. I had moved away since then, but the company had stayed faithful and I went to visit them every three months or so. It meant an overnight stay, but I valued the relationship, so it was no hardship.

I didn't venture out of the house over the weekend as I had some work to do, in addition to a lot of thinking. I made a point of looking in every mirror in the house as I walked past, trying to get as used to myself as I could, so that I wouldn't appear self-conscious when I encountered the world again. It was something that paid off as I was feeling quite confident by the time that I met my clients for lunch on Monday. I explained that I had done it for charity, sparing them any of the detail and they were very positive about both my donation and about my hairless look. It was really what I wanted to hear. I had endured a few stares on the train on the way up so what I really needed was acceptance and approval. The meeting went well and I was back at my  hotel by late afternoon.

To be honest, it was a trip that I could have done in a day, but I usually arranged my other commitments so that I could stay over and have a bit of time to myself. It just so happened that I was spending a lot of time by myself at the moment! I showered when I got to my room and sat in my robe for a while, reading before dinner. I got dressed when I started to feel peckish and picked up my "defender", my book, that I always used to fend off unwelcome attention when I was on my own in restaurants. Together we headed downstairs.

I had only been in the bar for a few minutes having a pre-dinner drink when I became aware that a guy at the bar was looking at me. I feigned reading, while trying to watch him watching me. I was starting to feel unnerved, wondering whether he was looking at me as some sort of bald freak or as prey. Either option was fairly objectionable, but the sad thing was that he was quite attractive, even though he was probably a stereotypical businessman, away from home, looking for a one-night stand. I smiled to myself, thinking that it might not be such a bad thing! The words on the page had ceased to be of any interest to me and I wondered what I should do. Of course I had flirted with men in a variety of situations, but had always shut down any such scenario when I had been on my own in a hotel. I closed my book and drained my glass before standing up. I picked up my book and headed for the exit on a course that would take me close to my not-so-secret admirer.

As I passed him, I slowed down, ready to deliver the rather confrontational remark that I had carefully constructed before getting up.

'Is it the haircut or the boobs that you find so interesting?' I asked with a smile. I paused for an answer, smiling as he nearly choked on his beer.

'That's quite a loaded question' he replied, trying to compose himself.

He was more attractive close up than he had seemed from across the bar. Attractive, that is, in a wedding-ring on the finger sort of way. If I hadn't seen that on my approach I would have carried on walking. The fact that he hadn't taken it off suggested that he wasn't there on a scouting mission, not primarily anyway, and that won him a few brownie points.

'It was for charity. I'm usually long and blonde, but I'll be short and dark for a while by the looks of it!' I said, slightly awkwardly, wondering if I had mis-read him.

'Well, "long and blonde", I'm Geoff' he said, smiling.

'Kerry' I replied.

'So, hair or tits?' I asked again, surprising myself at my own crudeness towards someone I'd never met.

'You know, if you'd got hair I'd think that you did this for a living' he replied.

'I'm an accountant actually' I replied, starting to wish that I hadn't embarked on this particular course, however much I felt the need for "company".

'You're not how I picture accountants' he replied.

'Probably not. Anyway Geoff, it was nice meeting you' I replied and started my tactical withdrawal.

'I'd need a closer look' he said as soon as I had my back to him. I turned to face him.

'I'm not in the habit of doing this' I said quietly.

'Nor me' he replied.

We stood and looked at each other.

'Can I buy you dinner?' he asked.

'It depends how good you are' I replied. I was starting to get turned on by the situation, but I don't know if that was just down to not having had a boyfriend for a couple of months. Geoff took a last swallow of his drink and I walked towards the lift, hoping that I was out of sight of the receptionist. I decided to go to his room rather than let him know which room I was in, just in case I needed a sanctuary for some reason. We walked down his corridor a couple of paces apart, but by the time we reached his door, I had unfastened my jeans in readiness. My top was off the moment his door was closed and we spent the next few minutes in a bout of 

barely-controlled rutting.

Once we had regained our breath, we lay on the rug, legs still intertwined.

'You still haven't answered my question' I pressed.

'You don't give up, do you! It was the haircut, of course.'

'Positive or negative?' I asked.

'All positive' he replied.

I propped myself up on my elbow so that I could look him in the eye.

'Really?'

He nodded.

'Not at all freaky?'

He shook his head this time.

As I looked at him, I felt a stirring against my thigh.

'It turns you on?' I asked, reaching down to touch him. His rapid hardness was confirmation enough.

'Why?' I asked, squeezing him gently.

'I don't know, it just does. When I saw you, I just couldn't take my eyes off you' he replied.

'I noticed.'

'Sorry!' he said.

'Don't be' I replied, moving down to lick him. I wanted us to take our time after our first frenzied coupling and was pleased that he was content to let me straddle him and watch him as he enjoyed the tiniest movements that I made, squeezing him inside me and then relaxing. We changed positions so that we were sitting, facing each other. He cradled my head in his hands and we stayed like that for what seemed the longest time, barely moving, totally relaxed with each other. We were so relaxed that we started to chat again. 

'Does your wife have short hair?' I ventured, almost afraid to ask, but thinking that he might welcome the chance to talk about his interest.

'No' he said after a pause.

'I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry' I said.

'It's okay, it's just odd talking about my wife while, you know..' he replied.

'Just pretend we're in the bar, having a drink' I said, squeezing him slightly tighter. He responded by squeezing my nipple slightly harder than was comfortable. I'd asked for that.

'Does she know you like short hair?' I persisted, eager to sate my curiosity after his confession that he found my baldness arousing.

'I don't think so' he replied. I rewarded him with another squeeze, but did wonder how many of those I could get away with.

'Don't you think that she would cut her hair for you? It seems to be something that turns you on, so maybe it would turn her on too.' I asked. His hands reached for my scalp again. I closed my eyes, but was still waiting for an answer.

'It's something that has interested me since before I met her. I kept quiet about it because I thought it was weird and now it seems a bit late to tell her that all the time we have been together I would have preferred her with short hair.' 

I could see his point.

'Can't you just tell her that you saw someone on TV or in the street with a style that you think would suit her?'

'Along the lines of "Hi honey, I saw a woman with a shaved head today and I think you should try it". That sort of thing, you mean?'

'Perhaps not!' I replied, whilst giving his cock a consoling squeeze. I was going to have to reduce those as I was starting to feel somewhat tired.

'Would you have stared at me in the bar if it hadn't been for my lack of hair?' I asked.

'No. Believe it or not, I've never picked anyone up while I've been away. I've got a good thing with my wife and I don't want to jeopardise that' he said. 

I laughed.

'What?' he asked.

'How can you say something like that when you're balls deep in another woman?' I asked through my laughter.

'There is that, I suppose, but if we ignore the fact that I'm being unfaithful to her at the moment, I wouldn't ever be unfaithful to her' he said, with a big smile. I reached down and cupped his balls.

'I should cut these off and send them to her' I said smiling. I started to gyrate against him, grinding down on him, wanting to come again, but at the same time wanting this to last. That was some sort of cue to him as in a deft movement, Geoff freed himself from beneath me and was kneeling behind me, his body following the contours of my own, still buried deep inside me. His hands were cupping my scalp, sometimes still, sometimes stroking me gently while he pressed into me with the gentlest of thrusts. My eyes were closed, concentrating, enjoying the sensations coursing through me. I couldn't think of any previous sexual encounter that came close to making me feel the way that I was feeling just then. Was it all down to Geoff? Probably not. There was a part of me that was starting to derive some sort of delayed pleasure at the way that Angela had cut my hair off, and there was definitely a part of me that was enjoying the feelings being generated by Geoff's finger tips on my bald scalp.

Geoff was starting to move a bit more quickly inside me, his strokes becoming longer. Then his weight wasn't pressing down on me anymore, his hands weren't on my scalp, they were on my hips, urging me to raise my arse a bit more. He reached underneath me to grab my boobs, squeezing them hard as he thrust. It hurt, in a good way, and then he released them, rearing up behind me again, pounding into me, balls slapping appreciatively against my lips. I could hear him start to grunt with the effort as I tried to match his approach to climax and then he stopped. I felt him withdraw and could feel his hands on my arms as he was standing up. He was urging me to kneel up. I looked up at him, trying to work out what he wanted. I thought that he wanted to come in my mouth, but he held back from me, working himself with his right hand. I wanted to help, despite my disappointment that he hadn't come inside me, but then I realised what he wanted. I watched his face carefully and then when he seemed on the verge of coming, I lowered my head. I felt his warmth on the back of my head, surprised at the quantity considering that this was "round two".

I looked up at him, conscious of the sensation of something running down my neck. Nobody had ever come over me like that before and despite the fact that only a few days ago I would have seen it as something distasteful and objectionable, nothing seemed more appropriate at that moment. I looked up at Geoff, his cheeks flushed. I held his gaze, his embarrassment clear, and reached up to my head. My fingers found the wetness and I rubbed it around my scalp with a circular motion, smiling as I worked it in. I brought my fingers to my lips and licked them, tasting him, smiling at him as I savoured it. I kissed his cock which was valiantly trying to look like it was ready for more. I stood up and kissed Geoff on the cheek.

'Thank you' I said.

'What for?' He asked, his hand cupping my left boob.

'For the best fuck I've had today, what do you think?' I replied, slapping his backside as I moved towards the bathroom. He followed me in, reaching around me to open the shower door.

'I meant thank you for making me feel so sexy' I said as I got in to the cubicle. We moved awkwardly in the shower, trying to allow each other access to the spray. We washed in silence until my bad side kicked in. 

'Does your wife let you come on her like that?' I asked. I got the slap on the backside that I deserved and was pleased that he had taken the comment in the light-hearted way that it had been meant. We finished in the shower and dressed, smiling at each other like a pair of teenagers. Despite the outward smiles, I was sad that Geoff was married. There was no way that I would want to get into a situation where I was just a "bit on the side" or where I was responsible for a break-up, so as far as I was concerned there was no future in a relationship with him. 

I watched him drying off and as he towelled his hair I asked him why his own hair was relatively long.

'It would raise too many questions at home and at work if I did what I wanted to do' he replied.

'So you have to live undercover, so to speak?'

'That's why I had to make the most of watching you in the bar. I needed to be able to remember what I saw for a very long time' he replied.

'I'm pleased that my little misfortune has been of so much use to you' I replied, pulling my knickers on.

All too soon, it was time for a good-bye. Much as we both wanted to, we didn't dare go out for dinner together in case we were spotted by someone who knew Geoff. So it was just going  to be me and my book for dinner after all.

 I pecked him on the cheek, having decided that a passionate farewell was probably not needed so soon after the intensity that we had shared. Just as I went through the door I handed him a business card.

'Just in case you're ever single again and need an accountant' I said with a half-hearted smile. 

He took the card and shut the door, leaving me to walk down the corridor alone with my thoughts. I was still glowing from what was the best sex that I had ever had, but I was also strangely at ease with my new image. My stride was now confident, I looked people in the eye when I passed them rather than wishing that I had somewhere to hide. I was eager for more!

I went back to my room after eating in the hotel restaurant and found another couple of texts from Angela asking me to call her. I wasn't mad at her anymore, not when I was still aching a little after my exertions with Geoff anyway! I decided that I would call her tomorrow.

I slept well that night and headed home the following morning. On the train I thought about the events of the past few of days, thought more about Geoff than I should have and wondered what to say to Angela. I thought about Geoff's secret and the implications of his interest in short-haired women and haircutting in general. I had never thought about it in a sexual way before, but he had well and truly opened my eyes. I wondered about the way that I had made the first move, about the comment that was so direct, such an unmistakable come-on that was so out of character for me. Was it just that I was frustrated by not having had a boyfriend for several months or had the whole thing with Angela awakened something in me. I suppose the test would be whether I was prepared to repeat my wanton behaviour of yesterday.

On the train I rang Angela and arranged to see her that evening after the salon had closed. I made the excuse of being on the train for not being able to go into any detail and was grateful that she accepted that. I still wasn't sure how to approach her given that I wasn't angry anymore. As far as she was concerned though, I was!

It was just after 5:30 when I got to the salon and the last stylist was coming out as I walked up to the door. She smiled at me weakly and hurried past, clearly suspecting who I was and not wanting to get involved in whatever confrontation that she had been led to believe might happen.

'Hi Angela' I said as I walked through the door.

'Kerry' she said, slightly hesitantly. I could see her looking at me closely. 'Would you like a coffee?' she asked. I declined and looked back at her, taking a degree of pleasure in her apparent discomfort.

'I can't tell you how sorry I am. I got carried away. The photographer...' she said quickly.

'It's okay Angela. I know you're sorry. I've just come to tell you that I'm resigning as your accountant. I'll co-operate with whoever you choose, so don't worry about that' I said, pausing to watch her reaction. 

'No' she said 'please don't. Let's talk about it. Please' she begged. I accepted her offer of a seat on one of the chairs in reception. She looked at me silently. I was starting to feel cruel. She sighed.

'I was only trying to do the right thing' she said.

I looked at her, trying to work out if there were tears forming in her eyes. I suspected that there were. I started to feel bad and stood up. I walked into the salon proper, looking around me at the half-tidied work stations, piles of towels ready for the laundry basket. 

'Please will you reconsider?' she asked from behind me. I turned towards her, looking at her, examining her in a way that I never had before my conversation with Geoff. If you call what I had with Geoff "a conversation" that is!

She was perhaps slightly over-made up, but then she was trying to convey a particular image. Her hair was a longish cap of dark, almost black tresses, which probably explained why she hadn't volunteered at the fund-raising event. Her hair was too short to be of any use to anyone "second-hand". She was smart and slim and I would certainly regard her as attractive to men. She rarely spoke about her private life, but I knew that she was divorced in the not too distant past. His loss, I thought.

The silence was starting to be uncomfortable and that wasn't really what I wanted, beyond the initial exchange. As I said, I wasn't angry with her anymore, if anything I was grateful, but I wanted to appear as she would expect me to be.

'Did you make the paper?' I asked. She nodded a reply before asking if I wanted to see. I did, but I declined. There would be plenty of time for that later. I was pleased that she had got what she wanted as I would hate to see her business go under, particularly now that she had opened up new avenues for me. I could see that she was still tense and I decided that enough was enough.

'Did you just get carried away?' I asked, my voice softer now.

'I was just so afraid that they wouldn't put me in the paper, that's all. I'm so sorry' she added, just in case I hadn't grasped that she was sorry!

'Was it those you used?' I asked, guiding her with my eyes to a pair of clippers hanging by the side of the chair where she had scalped me.

She nodded. I reached down and picked them up, flicking the switch out of curiosity. There was that sound again. The sound that had caused me such anguish and then led me to such pleasure.

'You know Angela, there is a way that I would be prepared to carry on as your accountant' I said.

'Thank you' she said.

I held the clippers up to her and waved them. I could see her considering how to react.

'Revenge, is that it?' she asked.

'On Friday, definitely. Now I've had time to get used to it, it's more a case of wanting to share the experience with you' I said.

'Does that mean that you're not angry with me anymore?' she asked. Perhaps I had over-played my hand, let too much slip too soon. It was time to stop talking. I waved the clippers again.

'I couldn't. Not with my job' she objected, before realising that any arguments along those lines were probably not going to hold too much water.

I put the clippers down on the counter and started to walk towards the door.

'Wait' she said quietly. I stopped in my tracks.

'Is this really what you want me to do before you'll carry on as my accountant?' she asked. I paused before answering.

'I'll stay as your accountant regardless' I replied 'but I would really like you to do it. If you don't want to, I'll leave and we'll not mention it again.'

'You like it, don't you?' she asked. 'You've shaved it completely, haven't you?' she added.

I smiled my reply and gestured to her to take a seat in the same chair where she scalped me. The exchange with her had excited me, but as she sat down, I would say that my excitement was more arousal than ordinary expectation. If only Geoff were here. I had thought about ways to allow him to take part, even for him to do the haircut, but I decided that I was best to leave our single encounter as just that.

I looked at Angela sitting in the chair expectantly and wondered how our future relationship would be affected if I actually did it. I picked a gown off the row of pegs and fastened it round her neck. Not quite in the practised fashion that I had experienced when she did it to me, but I did a good enough job. I flicked the switch on the clippers and saw her close her eyes. She waited. I watched. Then I turned them off. After a couple of seconds she looked at me.

'I'm your accountant, not your hairdresser' I said, handing her the clippers. She reached out from beneath the gown and she took them from me silently.

'I don't suppose you've got any wine, have you?' I asked.

'There's some white left over from the other night' she replied.

'Great' I said, watching her get up from the seat, still swathed in the pink gown. She came back a minute or so later with two large glasses of white wine. She handed one to me and then held her glass up in a toast.

'Friends!' she said.

'Friends!' I toasted back, pleased at the thawing in the atmosphere.

I took a large swallow, savouring its coldness in my mouth. To my surprise, she sat back down in the chair, holding her glass out to one side. I took another drink, more measured this time. I leaned against the counter just to one side, so that I could see her face. She angled her chair towards me slightly.

'It really suits you, you know. You look stunning' Angela said.

'Thank you' I replied, raising my glass slightly.

'I should have done this the other night, but once you left, things wrapped up pretty quickly' Angela told me.

'But it's got you in the paper and that's the whole point, isn't it?'

'Of course, and it's already got us some new customers, even though the paper is only just out.'

I was pleased for her, but more than that I was intrigued at the feelings I was experiencing. I was turned on by the sight of this woman sitting waiting for me to cut her hair.

'You know, some guy was asking me about my hair yesterday. Have you ever come across a man who's really interested in women's haircuts? I mean REALLY interested?' I asked.

'I've read about it and often wonder what goes on under the cape with some of the guys who are in here, but then you never know what they're thinking. Could just be "boob" men getting excited about getting up close and personal with something that they haven't had the chance to since they were a baby' Angela replied with a smile.

I put my drink down and picked up the clippers, together with one of the plastic guards that were lying on the counter. Angela watched me trying to work out how to fit it.

'It just slips over the metal bit' she said. I nodded and turned the clippers on, moving closer to her.

'You just move them up like this?' I asked, almost rhetorically, easing the clipper head in front of her ear. I still had the guard in my other hand, so I wasn't sure if Angela realised that the path that I had just cut had left a stripe of barely-there stubble up to her temple. I looked at her in the mirror, but her eyes were closed.

'Mmm, just like that' she said. 

I put the blade at the nape of her neck and cut another strip upwards, watching intently as the hair tumbled over the head of the clippers and then down towards the floor. Another glance at the mirror showed that her eyes were still closed. She was far more serene that I was when I was scalped, but that may be because she had had so much time to think about the process, perhaps even to consider doing it on her own account. I thought about Geoff again, kicking myself for not being able to leave him out of this. I yearned to feel again what he had made me feel in that hotel room and wondered whether it was solely the thought of that session that was making me feel so damp. I hadn't cut any more of Angela's hair and she opened her eyes to see what the reason was for the pause. 

'You haven't screamed yet' I observed.

'Quite the opposite, I'm having a great time. I just wish that you would get on with it' she said.

'All in good time' I replied, running my index finger in a circular motion across the bald spot on her temple. I watched in the mirror for her reaction and saw her eyes close again. I smiled to myself and ran the clippers across the top of her head. She sighed as the clippers made light work of her expertly-cut layers. I was really getting turned on by the whole scenario, which was so much more erotic than me coercing her to let me cut her hair. I just wished the somebody was waiting for me when I got home who would be able to do something about the state that I was getting myself into. I went over and over Angela's scalp, making sure that I hadn't missed anything. All the while I was marvelling at the dark shadow where just a few minutes ago, lush, dark hair had resided. I turned the clippers off, rubbing my palm over her scalp. Memories of my own stubbly head came flooding back and I was so glad that I had made the decision to shave myself that evening.

'That's you' I said with a final rub.

Angela opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror.

'So that's what I look like with no hair!' she laughed. She reached for her scalp and ran her fingers over it.

'Not quite there yet' she said, turning slightly. 'There's some shaving foam and razors in that cupboard over there' she added, pointing to her left from underneath the gown.

'You're going to let me do it?' I questioned.

'You did yours didn't you?' she asked. I hadn't actually confirmed that I had shaved, let alone told her that I did it myself. I walked silently to the cupboard and took out a can of foam and one of the several razors that were in there. I squirted some foam into the palm of my hand and started to work it across Angela's scalp with my fingertips. How I would love somebody to do that to me!

My first attempt at shaving my own head took ages and made me ache with all of the contorting that it involved. Shaving Angela was easy in comparison, although I was just as careful not to cut her as I had been with myself. There was no reaching, no neck-craning, it was just a succession of smooth strokes, clearing a path of foam with each. Angela was quiet throughout, but as I was concentrating a bit more with the bare blade than I had with the clippers, I didn't check to see whether she had her eyes closed. If I had to guess, I would say that she had.

I finished shaving her and then did it all over again! I wanted to make her as smooth as I could and I wanted to draw out my own enjoyment of the process. Eventually there was no avoiding it, I had done as much as I could, dragged it out as long as I could. I stood behind her, wiping her scalp with a towel and then I just stood and watched her in the mirror, waiting for her to open her eyes. How I would have loved my own hair to have been taken in these circumstances rather than the almost hostile way that it had happened. Angela opened her eyes and reached up again. I undid the cape to make it easier for her. She leant forward to look more closely and then turned to me. 

'There's a career waiting for you when you've had enough of all those numbers' she said, still stroking, still smiling. She stood up and looked at me.

'May I?' she asked, reaching a hand out tentatively towards my scalp. I nodded and she touched my scalp with her finger tips at the same time as stroking her own head. She smiled at me.

'Thank you' she said.

I didn't reply as I was concentrating on the sensation of her stroking my scalp, comparing my slightly stubbly head with her own freshly shaven one. My awareness of my empty house was growing keener by the minute. I looked at Angela and smiled, wondering what to do. I knew what I wanted, but it was attached to someone over a hundred miles away! I suddenly realised that I was exploring the contours of her mound through the material of her tunic! I saw her expression change.

'Jeez, I'm sorry' I said, pulling my hand away as if I had been electrocuted. She took her hand off my scalp and took a step backwards, looking at me. I felt embarrassed at what I had done, getting so caught up in the moment.

'My, my' she said, one hand clamped to her chest in a theatrical gesture of shock.

'Angela, I'm sorry, I was just enjoying myself so much that I forgot where I was' I babbled.

'Just think, you came in here with the aim of shaming me into cutting my hair and here you are half an hour later touching me up' she said, hand still to her chest.

She had started to get me on the defensive, but rather than protest my innocence any further, I decided that it would be best just to close the gap between us and to carry on where I left off. Short of going to the first pub that I found and getting myself picked up, this was my best chance of relief. I didn't have time for courting rituals and unless I was very much mistaken, Angela wasn't going to be an unwilling companion for my first brush with another woman.

She looked at me intently, almost daring me to go further. My other hand took hold of the material of her tunic and dragged it upwards while she continued to stare. Her hands were by her sides, neither helping or hindering what I was trying to do and it took until I had tugged the tunic high enough to reveal the material of her underwear before she moved her hands. While Angela held up her grey tunic, I traced a line with my finger at the crease of her thigh. I felt material, I felt heat and then I felt wetness.

'So I'm not the only one then' I said, leaning in to kiss her while sliding a second finger inside her.

'I was like that when I clippered you' she said, breaking the kiss briefly. Now that surprised me.

'Is that why you did it?' I asked, pulling my lips away from her.

'I'll tell you later' she said, hands working at the fastening on my jeans.

So it was that I found myself getting closely acquainted with another woman's privates for the very first time. I won't go into more detail, but it added another experience to an eventful few days. Days where I had gained a new benchmark against which to measure all future sexual encounters, days in which I had dabbled in the pleasures of another woman and most intriguingly of all, days in which I had discovered that there is something about haircutting that arouses me intensely. Whichever of those things that I thought about, my horizons had been widened significantly and I had to consider where I went from there. I just had to decide what to do about Geoff, about Angela and about my future as a bald woman who had just learned that she was an easier lay than she would ever have thought possible!

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