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I should have known better than to ignore the gathering clouds. I was desperate to find the right pair of shoes to go with a dress that I had seen, but without the shoes, there was no point in buying the dress. So, I had stayed in town longer than I should have and then there I was sheltering in a shop doorway while the heavens opened. I had run a matter of yards before thinking better of it, but already I was pretty wet. Splashes up the back of my legs, sodden shoes, the works. It would pass, but looking around me I wasn't the only idiot huddled in a doorway in that part of the street.

I was startled a little as the door behind me opened. I turned round sharply, trying at the same time to move aside to allow whoever it was to get out. The door was held wide open by a woman with the warmest smile I had seen for a long time.

"Come in, don't stand out there" she urged.

I didn't need asking twice and actually wondered why I hadn't gone in in the first place. The doorway hadn't been deep enough to stop the biggest rain drops splashing me.

"Isn't it awful?" she said, reaching out to help me with my coat. I smiled at her, a greeting, a thank you and an 'aren't I stupid for standing outside for so long' smile.

"Coffee?" she asked. "I'm Becky by the way" she said as she started to walk away.

"Gail" I said "Coffee would be lovely".I followed her further into the shop. "Do you often take in waifs and strays like this?" I asked.

"I felt guilty sitting in here nice and dry while you were out there. Anyway, it looks like it might be on for a while."

I accepted the proffered cup and only then did it register that this was a hair salon. I had been so pre-occupied with damp clothes and the kindness of a stranger that I hadn't really taken in my surroundings.

"If you have a seat I'll dry your hair for you while that cools a little" she said.

"Yea, thanks" I said. "Haven't you got any customers coming in?"

"Not booked and I wouldn't expect too many walk-ins in this" she said, glancing towards the window. "So, you're doing me a favour keeping me company".

"I knew there was a reason why I came out when a storm was due" I said, a little cheekily.

The air filled with the sound of a hairdryer and I started to feel human again. Warmth, shelter, you can't over-estimate them. As she brushed and teased my shoulder length dark hair I studied her in the mirror. She was at the sort of age where you can't quite be certan whether the 35 barrier has been cracked or not and it's rude to steer the conversation towards age in any way at all. She was in pretty good condition, the merest hint of a tummy, but quite why I noticed that I don't know. Perhaps I was looking for some sort of way to make myself feel better. I was most definitely the right side of 35, although closer to it than I liked to think, but I don't think that I would win in a straight contest between us. Her hair was short, almost a pixie, but excellently cut and immaculately kept. I don't know what they would call the shade of blonde on the bottle, but it was good whatever it was.

"You've got great cheek-bones" she said, interrupting my train of thought. And there was me carrying out a similar sort of assessment of her. She gathered my hair in a pony tail, barely hanging on to the hairdryer in her right hand.

"And a great neck, if you don't mind me saying. It's a shame to hide it under all this hair".

"Thank you" I said, not knowing quite what else to say.

She flicked off the dryer and ran the brush through my hair for a final couple of strokes. She put the dryer and brush down on the ledge just to the side of me and reached for her cup. As I reached for mine, she sat down on the styling chair next to me. I bent forward to take a sip of my coffee, but stopped halfway. I could sense her watching me. I turned to her.

"You should let me cut it" she said.

That was the second time that I didn't know what to say.

"You've got great features, a great neck and they're all hidden. You should present them to the world, make a statement" she said. I was grateful to her for giving me a few moments to think.

"How?" I asked, stunning myself with such an eloquent response.

"Short, very short" she said.

"As short as yours?"

"Mine's quite long at the moment," she replied. I didn't actually notice that she hadn't answered the question. She looked at me.

"No time like the present" she said.

"I'd need to think about it. It's a big decision," I said lamely.

"All you have to do is sit there, I'll do the rest" she said, draining the last of her coffee. That reminded me that I hadn't actually made much progress with mine. I took a long pull at the now lukewarm coffee and turned to the window in the hope that the rain had eased off. It hadn't.

She reached out for my cup. "Let me get you a fresh one" she said.

"No this is fine, thanks, really."

As she walked over to the small kitchen area I drained my cup and put it to one side. I looked at myself in the mirror. Same old me. I reached behind me and gathered my hair in a pony tail just as she had earlier. I turned my head to the side eager to see what she meant. I had never thought of myself with short hair, even when putting my hair up for weddings and things like that. That was just different, temporary. The thought of always being able to see my neck had never occured to me.

"See what I mean?" she said, standing just to one side of me. I was so absorbed in looking in the mirror that I hadn't heard her come back.

"I like the flexibility of long hair" I said.

"You only say that because you've never had the freedom of short hair. I would never go back again. I actually kick myself for not having done it earlier. Now it's a case of the shorter the better."

"Really?" I said. There I went again with another insightful remark.

"I can take it in stages for you if you want, but I would say just go for it, you won't regret it" she said.

"Just go for it, that's one way of looking at it," I said.

"Look at it like jumping in a cold pool. It's much easier just to take the plunge than try to go down the steps and once you're in you don't know what all the fuss was about."

"You really think I should, don't you?"

"I think that you should have done it a long time ago, just like me".

"The same cut, you mean?"

"I think you should do what I did. I had a similar discussion with a girl I used to work with, one evening, after we'd closed. I was nervous, but I just thought 'what the hell, if the boyfriend doesn't like it, I'll get another'."

"And did he?"

"He liked it, he liked it a lot, but we're not together anymore."

"I'm sorry" I said.

"No, it's no problem. We just weren't right for each other."

"So how short did you go?"

"Short, but I'm going to take you shorter. You're right for it."

My eyes widened. It was time to leave. I stood up.

"You've been very kind Becky, but I don't think it's me, really." I looked at the rain outside, still bouncing up off the pavement. I was going to get wet. I looked around for my coat. Becky was on her feet and went over to the closet to get my coat for me, holding it out as she must do many times a day for clients. I smiled at her weakly.

"Just think, no more spending hours getting ready to go out. Straight out of the shower and you're done."

"You really want me to do this don't you?" I said.

She waved my coat like a matador, swishing it once in the air. "Coat or gown, your choice" she said.

"I only came in to get dry" I said.

"Coat or gown?" she asked again a little more softly.

"Coat" I said............

And that was over a year ago.

From time to time I thought about that day, sometimes it was just a flash, sometimes I could remember every detail, or at least what I thought of as every detail. There have been a good few haircuts since, usually the trigger for me thinking about that rainy day, but I stuck resolutely to my long hair. I did get it cut to about collar length for the summer, but that was it. It didn't take that long to get past collar length again, and it just seemed to stay there or thereabouts regardless of which salon I went to.

The subject of life experiences and regrets at not having done certain things came up at dinner a couple of weeks ago when I was out with some friends. For some reason this episode with Becky came to mind although I didn't mention it at the time. I've thought more and more about it sínce, that perhaps I should just throw caution to the wind and see what would happen. It certainly appealed to me more than sexual experiments with another woman which seemed to be the favourite topic during our discussions!

I walked past the salon at the weekend just to see if anything had changed. It looked like the interior had been refurbished but it was difficult to make out too much detail due to the reflection on the window. I made a mental note of the phone number as I walked past.

When I got to the end of the block of shops I stopped and dialled the number on my cell phone. It rang. I shivered slightly even though it wasn't cold by any stretch of the imagination.

"Hi" I said, trying to compose myself, "I'd like to make an appointment with Becky please".

"When for?" came the friendly voice on the other end. At least she still worked there.

"As soon as she can fit me in really".

"And what's it for?"

"Just a cut" I said, it couldn't be simpler, I thought.

"She could take you at 11:30 if that's any good" the receptionist said.

That was not what I had expected. That was less than 30 minutes away. I hadn't expected anything until Monday or Tuesday, which would have given me time to think about it. That was my fault for asking for something so starightforward. I should have asked for a colour or a perm or both or everything, I thought.

I gave her my name and said goodbye. I looked around me, desperate for a coffee so that I could gather my thoughts. The time flew, my head spun, no amount of coffee could change the fact that I had to make a decision. I gathered my things and walked back towards the salon.

I saw the clock on the wall and had to apologise for being a couple of minutes late. And then she was there. I could see her struggling to put my face into context. She knew that she knew me, but couldn't remember where from.

I smiled. "You sheltered me from the rain," I said.

It was her turn to smile. "And you left very quickly. So.....what brings you back?"

"I've thought about what you said........and here I am".

"Well, we'd better get you that gown, hadn't we" she said.

The receptionist took my jacket and I followed Becky through into the salon. There had been changes, but nothing too dramatic. I still felt as if I was back in time to that rainy day.

Becky turned a styling chair to make it sligtly easier for me to get in. I sat. Her hands went to my hair and she ran her fingers through it.

"A little longer, if I remember rightly" she said.

"A little" I said, my mouth dry.

"So, what are we doing?" she asked.

"It's your decision" I said.

"It's YOUR decision" she countered.

"No, it's yours" I replied, wondering if this is what was meant by being a submissive.

"Just take a deep breath. In............out" she said. As soon as she finished the sentence the quiet of the salon was filled with an insistent buzzing. Clippers. Men's clippers. She moved the hair at my nape to one side with her left hand and as that hand brushed gently across my skin, it was replaced with the cold steel of the clippers. She moved them upwards without further hesitation. I shuddered at the thought of what was happening. The clippers moved again, back down to the nape of my neck. She turned them off.

"Feel" she said.

I raised my hand and stroked the area that she had just run the clippers over. It was smooth. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

She leant forward and whispered close to my ear "Do you want me to do that all over?"

I stroked the bald patch again. I shook my head. The clippers came to life again. She positioned them just above my right cheek bone and moved them up slightly.

"Just say 'Stop'" she said.

The clippers moved up slowly, nearer and nearer to the hairline. The tone changed. It was too late. They were moving deliberately through my hair, upwards towards my temple. I closed my eyes. The conversation from last week's dinner started to play through my head again. All the cliches about only living once, not living to regret not having done things, all manner of platitudes along the same lines. And here was I being shorn like a sheep. That would certainly have to go down as being one for the scrapbook.

Becky was working slowly and methodically around the sides of my head, my lap was filling up with severed lengths of hair. It looked longer now that it wasn't attached than it had when it was on my head. Strange.

The clippers went quiet. The only thing that looked strange was me. The hair on the crown of my head was covering the damage that Becky had just wrought on the sides of my head, but it was not hanging quite the way it used to. I met her gaze in the mirror.

"You haven't screamed yet" she said, smiling.

I tried to smile back, without a great deal of success.

"So, are we going for the radical bob or are we just going to be radical?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Just think, you could have done this a year ago and it would have grown back by now" she commented. The clippers flicked back on. They paused at my forehead. Briefly. Too briefly for me to protest. They ploughed a furrow through the hair on the crown of me head. Nothing. I was sure that there must have been some stubble, but I couldn't see it. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but look as I might, without moving my head, I couldn't see it.

The clippers were back at the front, moving slowly backwards for another pass. And another. Then there was silence. And I could still see nothing. Becky ran her hand roughly over my scalp a couple of times.

"Are you going to be really brave for me?" she asked. She took my continuing silence for a 'Yes'.

I knew then that there must have been stubble because she covered my head in shaving foam to remove it. I looked like a wedding cake for a couple of minutes. Then I looked less and less like a wedding cake as she stroked my scalp gently. I looked more and more like a man. No, I didn't. I looked more and more like me. Even though she was still removing the last traces of foam I could see that it was me being revealed. My eyes seemed bigger. Thankfully my ears didn't, but I could see the curve of my neck. It was a shock, but I could see that my initial horror was misplaced. I started to relax a little. Becky was rubbing my head with a towel and then she was rubbing my head with her hand.

"Perfect" she said.

I turned my head so that I could see the side view. She brought a mirror up behind me so that I could see the back. I looked. I stared. She lowered the mirror and then planted an almost imperceptible kiss on my scalp.

"You look beautiful" she said.

I actually agreed with her. It would take some getting used to, but I was along way from freaky, I could see that already. I smiled at her.

"Thank you" I said.

"I wouldn't have done that a year ago, you know. It would have been short, but you could have combed it."

"So why do it now?"

"Because you'd thought about what I would do for a year. And you still came. I didn't want to disappoint you".

"And have you ever done it?" I asked. Well, I had to, didn't I?

"No, I haven't."

"You should, you know. Then maybe you can convince other people."

"And would it have convinced you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. If you were bald, at least it would set me thinking, make me more open to the suggestion."

"Well, now there's an idea for a rainy day" she said with a smile on her face.

I've had three days now to get used to the new me. I've got used to the attention when I go into a shop and I've certainly got used to the way it feels. When it's smooth that is. I've got stubble now and I don't really like it. I think it will be okay once it get's to the slightly softer, longer stage, but just now I don't like it. It's too rough. That's why I've just rung the salon to get Becky to go over it again for me. That was the main reason. The other one was that it's raining and I want to put an idea into her head.

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