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At first his comments annoyed me. Well, they actually annoyed me from the moment he said them and then continued to annoy me for several days, but they did have the effect of making me think. I had always thought of myself as well-groomed, presented in the most favourable way possible and here was this jerk that I had met less than an hour before telling me that I should cut my hair. I was actually glad when he tried to grope me as it gave me an reason to slap him and storm off. Up until that point I had been looking for a polite excuse to get away from him, but as soon as made that move, I was off. I didn't even think that I had given him any encouragement to go for it, but such is desperation.

After that, it was any excuse. Shop windows, mirrors, any surface that offered the faintest promise of a reflection. I looked. I continued to look, but nothing that I could see could convince me that he was right. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror with my wet hair gathered in one hand behind my head, the other wiping steam from the mirror. It was still me, and whilst I thought that I looked good, it was no better than with my collar length hair.

I spent several nights lying in bed trying to recall as much as I could of what he said, while ignoring the abrupt end to our encounter. Piecing snippets of our conversation together, bit by bit. I wished that I had paid more attention to him really. He had obviously struck a chord, but I couldn't determine what it was that he had said that had intrigued me so much.

I gave in on Tuesday, a full three days afterwards. I rang the hostess of the party, ostensibly to apologize for making a scene, but by the time I had put the phone down, I had his number. I sat and looked at the pad by the phone. I picked the phone up. It rang and rang. Perhaps he wasn't home from work yet. He answered.

"Hi, James" I said uncertainly "......it's Caroline, from the party."

I could hear heavy breathing, but nothing else. "I'm sorry, have I caught you at a bad time?" All manner of sordid images of what he might be doing were going through my mind.

"Hi Caroline" he said. It couldn't have been said with less of a welcome if he had tried.

"James, I.........I just wanted to apologize, that's all" I said, not being able to think of anything else to say.

"Ok" he said. That was it, then silence.

"You're not making this very easy" I said. Silence again.

"I shouldn't have called, I'm sorry," I said and started to put the phone down. I put the phone back to my ear. I had come this far and if I didn't ask him then I wouldn't get the chance again.

"James, my hair........"

The accelerated breathing stopped. I had got his attention, but still no response.

"James, I'm going to hang up if you're not going to talk to me." I said.

"No" came the abrupt reply.

"If this isn't a good time, I'll call you back" I said.

"Why have you called?" he asked, his efforts to control his breathing obvious.

"I've been racking my brains trying to understand what you were getting at, it was noisy, I didn't hear it all."

"So you're tempted?"

"I don't know what I'm meant to be tempted by."

"Touch it," he said.

"I take it you mean my hair", I said a little curtly.

"What else?" he asked.

"You need to be a bit more forthcoming, I've got to go" I said.

"I was talking about sensations. Vibrations. Freedom."

'Talking crap, more like' I thought.

"Was that it?" I asked.

"Just do it."

"Do what?" I pleaded, somewhat exasperated by now.

"Shave it" he said.

"What did you say?"

"What you wanted me to say."

This was getting weird. "Can't you just ask me what colour underwear I've got on, like a regular pervert?" I said, somewhat sarcastically.

"You rang me, remember."

"I'm sorry, it was a mistake." I said and put the phone down.

I sat back in the chair, trembling slightly. After a couple of minutes I started to wonder why I was trembling. I wasn't frightened by talking to him. I was angry that I had let myself get drawn in like that, but I was also turned on. Now that was something that I hadn't expected. I didn't like the guy, I wasn't attracted to him, I even found him creepy, so why was I turned on. Perhaps because I was in a sleazy situation, but I had initiated it and was still in the safety of my own living room. I was so grateful that I had withheld my number when I rang. I picked up the phone again. I called the party hostess and told her that she wasn't to give out my number under any circumstances.

I slept a little easier that night. I didn't need to trawl through a half-heard conversation to try to work out what he had said. I knew. I fell asleep with his words clear in my mind.

It was mid-morning before I had time for a break the following day. I hurried down the high street to get a coffee and some peace and quiet for 10 minutes. I crossed the road just up from the coffee shop, looking around me for traffic when my gaze stopped on the sign for a hairdressers. I stopped. One foot already in the road. Rather than cross, I turned left down the street, heading for the sign. I walked past, head turned as I went, to take an apparently disinterested look in through the window.

'Models wanted' read the sign. I walked on a few yards and then turned back. I looked in. It looked pretty modern inside, a fashionable young thing draped over a sofa in the window. I walked on. I needed that coffee. It would only take a second. I thought again. I turned back.

"Hi, I saw the sign in the window. About models." I said a little nervously.

"That's for Marianne" the receptionist said, smiling in what she thought to be a pleasant manner. Made her look a bit simple, I thought.

"Do I just book an appointment or do I need to talk to her first?" I asked, having given up on her volunteering any information.

"She can take you at 7, if that's any good?" she said.

"Fine. 7 it is" I said.

I was out of the door and striding up the street to the coffee shop before I realised that I hadn't given my name. I didn't have time to go back and try to deal with that girl again. I walked on.

Lunchtime came and went. The afternoon sped by and there I was, 5:30 and nothing to do. I went to my car and drove to the nearest out of town burger place. The day slowed down dramatically while I was in there. I read yesterday's newspaper from front to back. Even the sport. I sat and looked around me until it was time to go.

I was at the salon door just before 7.

"Hi, I'm Caroline, for Marianne" I said to the woman behind the counter. She smiled at me.

"Hi, I'm Marianne - I didn't know if you would actually come, Dawn was a bit vague on the details. Second day on the job, sorry if she wasn't quite as polished as you would have liked."

I smiled. "No, she was fine, really." I lied.

"Come on through anyway Caroline. Coffee?"

"No, thanks, I've just had one."

She motioned to me to sit down. "So, what can we do for you?" she asked.

"I don't know. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, that depends on you really and how much you'll let us do."

"I've been thinking about doing something different, but I don't know what" I said, not letting on just how much thinking that I had been doing since that fateful party encounter.

"How much of a change?"

"I don't know, that's just it" I said. The conversation with James had started to go round in my head again. "How about if I just let you do whatever you want and then we'll see."

"My you're brave" she said, a big smile on her face.

"I can always get you to cut it off if I don't like it," I said. That sentence went round my head again, silently. I hadn't actually decided what I was going to do. I hadn't decided to do what James suggested. I didn't actually know why I was there, if I thought about it.

"Ok, so you're happy for us to cut and colour, is that it?" I nodded. "No limits?"

"Blank canvas, that's me" I said. I looked at her for a clue as to her personality, what she was likely to do. Early thirties probably, similar to myself. Good figure, well-cut clothes, blonde hair, down to mid-back level. All in all, a nice catch for someone, I thought.

I was being swathed in a gown. I heard footsteps. Another stylist. Younger. A junior. She was going to be doing my hair, I just knew it. It made sense, why would Marianne need the practice, she probably owned the place. I smiled at the newcomer who introduced herself as Katie. Pleasant enough, friendly, but not overly chatty. It was probably difficult for her, being overseen by the boss so closely.

Katie led me off to be shampooed. The place was quiet except for the sound of running water. I relaxed. Not knowing what was coming, but not overly concerned either. I closed my eyes as she massaged my scalp. That was a good start. It was over all too soon though. I was back at a styling station.

"Ok, Katie, Caroline is happy for you to do both parts" Marianne said. "She's doing a competition" she said, looking at me.

"Work away, don't mind me" I said.

I was trying my hardest to focus on sensations, feelings, like James had said, but I wasn't really accomplishing much. I still hadn't worked out why I had been turned on by talking to him. Katie was cutting away at my hair painstakingly, occasionally looking to Marianne for approval, but more often than not, concentrating on what she was doing. I was trying my best not to look in the mirror at her every move. I closed my eyes to remove temptation, trying to heighten my feeling for what was going on. I could feel her cutting at the nape of my neck, higher than I would usually have it cut. I drifted away again.

It was the smell that brought me round to my senses. I opened my eyes. There was a trolley beside me with small bowls and various implements on it. I was in for a change of colour. She dipped a brush in a bowl and moved it quickly to my head, painting a strip of hair with a fluid motion. She dipped the brush again. And again. I closed my eyes.

It didn't seem long before I was back at the basin, gingerly trying to position myself without hitting my head as I went back. The water felt good again, soothing as it washed away the chemicals. She shampooed me twice and then urged me upright. She wrapped my head in a towel and rubbed firmly, before ushering me back over to the styling station. There was to be no surprise when I saw the finished article. I could see myself already. A tangle of black hair, exact length difficult to guess, but not dramatically shorter than it was before. Katie combed, and styled and dried. My previously collar length, dark blonde hair was now slightly above collar length, in a perfect bob. A black bob. Cruella DeVille was all that I could think of, realising there was a slight discrepancy in length, but it was the best that I could do at the time.

"Well?" Marianne asked.

"Mmmmmmmmm" was all that I could manage at first. "I'm not sure that black is my colour" I said eventually.

"It suits you, makes you look mysterious," she said.

"Thanks" I replied, not quite sure how to take that.

I looked at my watch - not yet 9 o'clock, but no doubt these folks had been on their feet all day.

"Thanks, Katie. It's very nice" I said.

There was a knocking at the door. Katie looked at Marianne. "Go on" Marianne said with a sigh of mock exasperation "I'll clear up here." It was Katie's lift home.

"Thanks Caroline, You've been a great help." she said as she hurried down the salon.

"Well, it's nice to have a bit of peace and quiet at last" Marianne said, sitting down and swiveling her chair towards me.

"So, did you enjoy your first modeling session?" she asked.

I looked in the mirror. "The session was fine, I'm just not sure about the result, that's all."

"The colour or the cut?" she asked.

"Both, I think." I replied.

"Welllllll" she said thoughtfully "I can't really do anything about the colour tonight, but I can re-cut it for you if you're not happy."

"It's late" I said.

"Don't worry about it, if you want me to cut it, I'll cut it."

"That's really good of you, Marianne."

"Ok, but you'll need to give me a clue as to what you want." she said.

James popped back into my head. It was the disembodied James of the phone conversation rather than the physical James of the party. A voice rather than an image of a person. His words, his silence, urging, cajoling, exciting.

"I want it short." I said.

"There's short and there's short." she smiled.

"Short" I said resolutely.

"Short?"

"As you like" I said.

She stood up and reached down to the side of the styling station.

"Do you know what these are?" she asked.

"Electric clippers" I replied.

"And do you know what they do?"

"Cut hair" I said.

"Cut hair very short," she replied. "So are we talking scissors or clippers?"

"Clippers" I said softly.

"Ok, now we're getting somewhere. These will leave your hair anything from this much to this much" she said, holding her thumb and forefinger at two different distances.

James had gone now, but the frisson that I felt when talking to him on the phone was building. I didn't need him anymore, I could do the rest all on my own. I brought my hand from under the gown, thumb and forefinger together. The clippers popped to life.

"Sure?" she asked, holding the clippers just above my forehead. My stomach was doing weird and wonderful things, acrobatics. I trembled a little. I shifted slightly in my seat. I nodded.

The vibration started to travel across my scalp. The sensation in my stomach was lower now. I bit my lip. The sensation moved across my scalp. I wanted to show him, but I never wanted to see him again. I wasn't doing it for him, I was doing it for me. Or was I? No, it was definitely for me. My eyes were closed. I was concentrating so hard. Thinking about what was happening now, rather than about what he had said. I wanted to look. I opened my eyes. My black hair was parted, hanging loose on either side, but separated by a swathe of scalp several inches wide. The clippers moved again, it got wider. I watched as first one side and then the other fell to the floor, bouncing off my shoulders. She was working at the back. The clippers stopped. I looked. It wasn't me. She rubbed a hand over my scalp. The clippers sprung to life again as she went over a couple of patches again, determined not to miss any. Silence.

She looked at me in the mirror quizzically. I put my right hand to my head and touched it lightly. I rubbed it slowly. The shortest, dark stubble remained. A couple of days'growth, if that. I smiled. Marianne smiled.

"Is Madam happy?" she asked.

"Madam is very happy" I replied. Madam was so happy she was worried about getting out of the seat.

"I can shave it for you if you want."

"No, this is fine for now. I've kept you long enough." I said. I stood up.

"You're a brave lady", she said "and a beautiful one. You were right about the bob, it didn't do it for you. Not the way that does anyway."

"I'd better go.....thanks so much, Marianne."

She smiled as I undid the gown and headed for the door.

"Come back and see me, won't you' she called after me.

"Oh, I'll be back" I said. Most definitely.

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