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I was never the most confident of guys when it came to talking to women and that hasn't really changed as the years have gone by. There was certainly no way that I could have held a conversation with Samantha when we were at university together. We took some of the same classes and I observed her and certain other girls from afar, well aware of my place in the pecking order. It was always a case of look, but don't touch. It was obvious that she was a couple of divisions higher than my position in the world and destined for great things. She had the world at her feet, it always seemed, and would have the pick of career and men, whatever she wanted out of life. I didn't exist as far as she and her little group were concerned, I was just a face in the crowd.

It was fifteen years after graduation that I saw her next. I had never gone to a university reunion before, as I always took the view that everybody else would have achieved so much more than me. Don't get me wrong. I am happy with what life has offered me, I'm solvent and sober. My big regret is the break-up of my marriage a couple of years ago. Ever since then I have been trying to find someone to share both my life and my interests. Finding someone to share my interests has been the challenge as I have never really felt comfortable sharing my passion for short hair with any of the women that I have gone out with and most attempts at relationships have fizzled out pretty quickly.

The invitation to the university reunion just seemed like something that may or may not be a fruitful use of a few hours of my spare time. I viewed it as an opportunity to hook up with a fellow divorcee, someone with whom I would at least have something in common to start a conversation. I signed up and a little later a list of attendees arrived in the post. I scoured it for names that I knew, people that I would like to re-connect with and people that I had hoped never to see again. One of the names that I recognised was that of Samantha Yates. Although there was little reason to suspect that she was any different now from the way she was before, I could at least refresh the mental image that I had of her. I could still picture her slender frame, her well-shaped backside, those boobs of hers that I wanted to grab every time that I saw her. I probably didn't have the same sort of teenage urges that I had then and would like to think that I would approach things a little differently now, but I would still like to see how she looked. No doubt she would have some hunk in tow to ensure that she wasn't pestered by people like me. She wasn't the only one on the list whose name I recognised, but unless there was going to be people who were late to sign up, there weren't going to be many people that I would know, other than by name or reputation. Perhaps that said a lot about my time at university. Too much time studying and not enough time partying. It was too late now though.

I was slightly late getting to the reception and felt a little awkward when I saw that little cliques had already formed, perhaps the same ones that had existed all that time ago. I looked around the room to see who I recognised and was embarrassed to admit to myself that I barely recognised anyone. I didn't even recognise Samantha and was resigned to the fact that she hadn't turned up, when I saw someone wearing her name badge. The Samantha that I had lusted over as a student had been slim, but the woman wearing the Samantha name badge was either carrying a lot of baby-weight or had become rather fond of chocolate and other goodies. She was bigger, quite a lot bigger, although she couldn't be described as obese by any means. She could do with losing quite a few pounds, but I didn't dislike her like this. She certainly wasn't in the premier division anymore and either I had got promotion or she had fallen most of the way down to my level. It made me smile that she would no longer be able to feel like the most attractive creature in a room. Hell, I was more than able to compete in the attractiveness stakes now. I wasn't in awe of her anymore and I was delighted.

I introduced myself as confidently as I could, and after a moment I saw the light of recognition in her eyes. She flashed me the same smile that she had deployed on her suitors all those years ago. I felt things that I hadn't felt in quite a while, not in the company of others anyway, and actually thought like there was a good chance of my not being slapped away if I chanced my arm. First I would have to investigate her current circumstances.

We actually seemed to get along and took our drinks to a quieter corner where we could sit down, where she could take the weight off her feet, I thought cruelly. I talked to her more easily than anyone that I could remember, male or female, and the time passed quickly while we updated each other on the highs and lows of our respective lives since graduating.

It was clear that her dream life fell apart six or seven years earlier when her husband started a string of affairs. She was at a loss to understand why he could possibly want to stray, when in her mind she was everything that any man could ever want. That would be your first mistake, Samantha! He left her with two kids and an apparent craving for more food than she could ever want! She concentrated on being a good mom and put any other aspirations for herself on hold. The kids got older and she got bigger. She had tried to regain her former shape, but it had been in vain, although she had had some success. The one thing that kept my attention while she rambled on about various other stuff was her hair. She still wore it long and whilst it looked like it didn't receive much professional attention, it was still a healthy head of hair. She talked, I schemed. I started to think about cutting her hair off in a delayed bout of revenge for that disdainful attitude from all those years ago. It wouldn't be just for me, it would be for everyone that she had been shitty to along the way. 

She talked some more and I tried to visualise her without any clothes. 

'I'm sorry, I've hardly let you get a word in edgeways all evening' she said eventually, tearing me away from my imaginings. I had just been at the point of wondering whether she was shaved or not down below and how that would actually look.

That's just how I remember you, Samantha, self-absorbed to the end, I thought.

'No, it's been very interesting. After all, I know all about me' I replied with a chuckle.

'Tell me, what made you get into hairdressing' she asked, trying to look polite by giving me a chance to talk.

'I wanted to do something different after my divorce and after trying to think of business opportunities that would always be in demand, I hit upon the idea of buying a salon.'

'So are you a hairdresser or just an owner?' she asked.

'An owner first and foremost, but I dabble from time to time,'

'What does that mean?' she asked.

'I have modelling sessions, try out a few ideas, that sort of thing' I replied.

'Sounds interesting' she replied.

'Are you volunteering?' I asked, without really thinking about it.

'Depends what you have in mind and what the pay is like' she replied.

'It all depends how adventurous you are' I replied, starting to wish that I hadn't embarked on this line of conversation in such a crowded place.

'Now I really am intrigued' she replied.

'I'll tell you what, I'll give you my card and you can give me a ring if you want to chat some more. There must be loads of people here that you want to catch up with' I said.

I noted what could have been a look of disappointment in her face. It pleased me that I could do that to her in my first attempt at retribution. We shook hands and separated. I think that she went off to "powder her nose", while I decided to call it a night. After all, I had listened to a stranger pouring her heart out for more than an hour and I had no desire to repeat the process. There were no faces that I recognised that I wanted to talk to, there were no women that I found attractive that I dared to talk to, so it was best that I headed off.

It must have been two weeks later when I got a phone call from Samantha. I was surprised at first and became even more so when she suggested that we meet up for lunch. She didn't go into detail, but I decided that I may as well, as long as she left some for me. I decided that I must stop being so caustic about her size, but that was only because I struggled to reconcile my mental image of  the student with that of the mother of two kids. I wasn't seeing anyone, I hadn't been out for a while, so I thought that it could do no harm to go along. I even offered to meet her at a restaurant that was about half-way between us to make things easier for her. Not that she had to pick the kids up from school anymore, they were quite capable of looking after themselves by now.

I pulled into the car park a little early and waited in the car for her. I'm enough of a gentleman not to make a woman go into a restaurant on her own and I only had about five minutes to wait before I saw her arrive. Her car was several years old and not the sporty type of car that I would have once pictured her in. I needed to put aside the aspirations that I had for her and deal with her as she was. Divorced, overweight and not that well-off by the looks of things. I doubt that I was as disappointed as her in the way that things had turned out for her.

She smiled as she got out of her car and I hurried to join her, pecking her on the cheek in welcome. We made small talk while we were shown to a table and perused the menu. It was only once we had ordered that we were able to chat a little more about the reason for her call.

'I need money, pure and simple' she said by way of explanation. I found her honesty refreshing.

'And how do you think that I can help?' I asked.

'You talked about modelling' she replied.

'It doesn't pay that well, so it depends how much money you need' I replied.

'Cards on the table' she said, taking a deep breath. 'My ex-husband is being a right you-know-what. He just won't pay for the lads to go on school-trips or help out very much. I do a bit of translation work, but it doesn't help with the extras that I want to be able to provide.'

She looked sad. I felt a little bit sorry for her for a moment and then remembered what a bitch she had used to be to everyone who failed to make the grade into her inner circle. Perhaps now she was reaping her reward for some of the things that she had done in her past, many of which I had no knowledge of.

'I could always use another model, but a one-off fee for that won't get your boys very far' I replied, pausing as our first course appeared. She fiddled with her napkin and started to eat, our conversation stifled for the time being. 

When we talked again, the conversation was about the food, but it wasn't long before she brought the topic around to possible work again, I sensed desperation in the air.

'I don't suppose you have contacts with anyone who shall we say, pays a little more for their models?' she asked, with a hint of colour coming to her cheeks. 'I know I'm not usual model material, but there's a market for the "fuller figure", surely' she continued.

'I hope you're not suggesting that I am involved in anything seedy!' I said, with a look of horror on my face. I wondered how she would deal with my pretend indignation.

'No, of course not, nothing like that' she said, flustered.

'It's alright, I'm only joking' I said, reaching across the table to cover her hand with mine. She didn't flinch at my touch, which showed how far down the slippery slope she had tumbled since those heady days of university. I took my hand away and looked at her.

'You're serious?' I asked.

She nodded, looking around to see if there was anybody within earshot. She should probably have done that earlier. She started to speak, but I saw the waiter coming and indicated to her to wait for a moment.

Once our main meal had been set out, I signalled that the coast was clear for us to continue.

'Where were we?' I asked.

'You asked whether I'm serious and I am' she replied, taking a mouthful of chicken.

I nodded approvingly.

'You're going to need to give me some idea what you're thinking about here' I said.

'You're the ideas man, aren't you. Think of something that you want to do and I'll do it, for the right money, of course.'

'So we agree a figure, you'll turn up and you're game for anything, is that what you're saying?' I asked.

'Nothing involving children or animals' she chuckled.

'Have you done this sort of thing before?' I asked, wondering about her apparent willingness.

'I told you, I need cash and I can't see any other practical way to earn a reasonable amount. I don't see myself in a job earning a pittance an hour, so I have to be creative. Or rather, you have to be creative.'

We finished our meal and I said that I would be in touch once I had given some thought to her suggestion. I got in the car with a myriad things going through my head, all of which amounted to a lot of payback for the small slight from many years ago. By the time I got back home, I had a fairly clear idea of what I could do with her.

I already had a standard modelling contract on my computer, so I amended that and sent it to her for her to think about. The amount of money that I was offering meant that the chances of her turning it down were remote, if what she had told me about her circumstances were true. All I had to do was wait and see whether she was going to get in touch or whether she would disappear from my life altogether.

Despite what I have said about her being a bit on the large side, I began to get those thoughts in perspective over the coming days as I made a point of looking at larger women walk down the street. These women had been pretty much invisible to me before, but now I realised just how many there were. When rated against some of them, Samantha came out as not slim, but not grossly overweight by any means. She was re-classified as "homely, acceptably chubby", although I would always find the university version of her to be my favourite by a long way.

About a week after I posted her the contract, I received it back in the mail. Signed. A yellow sticky note attached to it just said "Call me. S." I slid the contract into my briefcase and picked up the phone. After a brief chat, we had arranged a time to meet so that we could go shopping for an outfit for her and then do what we had to do. My next call was to an acquaintance who had a photographic studio that I had used in the past. My work done, I sat back and surfed for a while, thinking about what was to come.

Samantha looked different when I saw her for our shopping trip. She had scrubbed up a little better than when I saw her for lunch and had put on what was probably her smartest outfit, a blue skirt and jacket. Her dark hair was freshly washed and conditioned by the looks of it. It shone, fanning over her shoulders. She looked good. 

'Where to?' she asked.

'That would spoil the surprise' I replied.

'So it's like that is it, something so bad that you can't talk about it.'

'Hopefully not' I laughed, taking her by the arm as we walked.

I felt her pause as we approached the shop where I wanted to get her outfit for the shoot, but then she carried on walking without a comment. I doubted that she had been in one of these shops for a good few years and no doubt she wondered what was in store for her. I told the approaching assistant that we just wanted to browse for a few minutes and she backed off, which I was pleased to see. Now it was just Samantha and I looking through the displays of corsets and more adventurous fetish wear.

'You really want me to wear something like this?' she asked, pointing to a black rubber corset.

'I'm not really into rubber, but if you want to, then I'd work with it' I replied, without any idea as to how she would actually get into it, even if I did buy it for her.

'I don't think so' she replied. 

Eventually I found something that I liked and called her over to look at it.

'This is it' I said, stroking a red corset. I saw a look cross her face that said that she wasn't comfortable with my choice. That decided it for me. The assistant came over and asked if Samantha wanted to try anything on. I really didn't want to lose the initial surprise of her putting it on and just asked for one in Samantha's size together with matching knickers and stockings. As we walked to the cash register, I saw some ridiculously high-heeled shoes which were also added to my tab. My plan to bring Samantha out of her comfort zone by as wide a margin as I could manage was coming together and she appeared to have been struck dumb at the prospect of what lay ahead for her.

We went back to my car and I drove us to the studio where I had set out everything for the shoot. Samantha wasn't much help with the various bags, it was almost as if she wanted nothing to do with what they contained. I struggled up the stairs with them and then opened the door to let us in, pleased that there was a small kitchen where we could make tea. I saw Samantha looking around at the decor and went to dump the bags in the dressing room area.

'I'll make us a cup of tea if you want to go and get changed' I said.

'If I must' she replied, leaving the room slowly.

I busied myself with making the tea, but then I remembered something that I had intended to tell Samantha. 

'Samantha, could you put your hair up in a pony-tail while you're in there. As high on your head as you can get it' I called out to her. 

'Okay' she called back after a moment. I finished making the tea and ate a biscuit while I was waiting, happy that the rest of my preparations were done. It had been worthwhile getting in to the studio the previous night to get everything just as I wanted it. 

It seemed ages before she was back again, walking uncertainly on the completely impractical shoes that I had chosen. They were a wonder of design and construction as their spiked heels seemed to be able to cope with a wearer of Samantha's size. I looked at her. The corset was certainly doing its job, giving her a waist for what must have been the first time in years. Her boobs were on the point of bursting out of the cups, but I found that quite sexy. There was no mistaking that Samantha was all woman underneath that get-up. As requested, she had drawn her dark hair into a pony-tail high up on her head, so that it resembled...a pony's tail remarkably enough.

'What do you think?' she asked, doing an unsteady twirl for me. It reminded me of Wonder Woman in a way, in a large sort of way.

'Fabulous' I replied.

'You're not just saying that?' she asked uncertainly.

'Not at all. You look great' I said, moving away to get her tea.

'This isn't quite the kit to be taking tea in' she said nervously.

'We can start if you want' I said.

'Sooner the better' she said.

'Okay' I said, taking a final sip from my mug. 'Can you come over here and sit down' I said.

She sat down awkwardly on the styling chair that I had prepared in front of a dresser. I had removed the mirror last night as I didn't want her watching and wondering what I was doing. I ran her pony-tail through my hands, savouring it for a moment and then picked up a length of cord that I wound around and through her hair until it would take a good tug. I urged her to stand up and guided her to the centre of the room where a thicker rope was dangling. She stood still while I attached the second rope to the cord in her hair and then I used a pulley system to draw the rope tighter and tighter. I could see Samantha watching me wind the handle on the wall, but it was only when she felt the tug on her head that she realised that her pony-tail now stood upright from her head. She had to stand up straighter and straighter as I shortened the rope, until finally she was standing with her heels just off the ground.

'Whoa' she said.

'You're okay, just don't try to move from that spot' I said, securing the handle so that she would be kept at the same level. I walked towards her.

'Comfortable?' I asked.

'Not really' she replied. At least she was being honest.

'You won't be there like that for long. Let me just get a few shots for the people who like this sort of thing' I said.

'You mean people like to see women like this?' she asked.

'You'd be surprised' I replied, picking up my stills camera and starting to shoot. The video cameras were already running, although I'm not sure if she was aware of that. She played her part well and then I told her that I needed some more poses. She was struggling to come up with many variations, so I put the camera down and went to help her. I positioned her arms and told her to move her feet apart a bit more.

'I can't' she said trying to look upwards.

'Let me help you' I said.

I looked her in the eye and cupped her mound in my hand, letting my middle finger wiggle a little, probing for her lips. 

'I bet you never thought that you would get to do that' she said, trying to clamp her thighs together. I took my hand away with a smile.

I bet you never thought that you would have to let me do it, I thought, not wanting to spoil the mood that I was trying to create. I stood back from her and took more pictures from various angles, pleased at the way she was able to come up with a variety of expressions for the shots. I sat down in a rather comfortable armchair a few feet in front of her.

'Any chance you can let me down. It's getting a little sore now' she complained.

'Sure' I said, bending down to rummage in my equipment bag. I walked over to her and handed her a large pair of scissors before sitting down again. She looked at me.

'I thought you were going to let me down' she said.

'You want down, feel free' I said. She looked at the scissors disdainfully and then looked at me. I nodded.

'You want me to cut my hair? That's how you expect me to get down?'

I took a picture of her brandishing the scissors and then put the camera down. I slid the zip down on my jeans and freed myself from my underwear. I stroked myself to hardness as she watched.

'Jesus! Look at the size of that thing!' she exclaimed.

The other boys at school had called me "tripod", but rather than regarding it as a compliment, it made me shy and instead of running amok amongst the local girls, I withdrew with my 10" dick into anonymity. Even now, I was a little shy about it and rarely got changed in public areas. It had been a long time since I had been at a public swimming baths. Here though it was different. I thought that I would show Samantha that she shouldn't judge a nerd by his tee-shirt. The prospect of watching her use those scissors was sufficient encouragement to give my one-eyed friend a bit of freedom. I picked up my camera again when I saw Samantha pluck up the courage to free herself. She reached up, trying to feel what she was doing. I had wound the rope in such a way that there was a clear section of hair, about eight or nine inches, before there was any encounter with the rope. I wondered if she would try to go high and just cut the rope or whether she would be game for a self-haircut.

She had positioned the scissors quite high on the pony-tail. She would be cutting hair rather than rope, but not much.

'Lower' I said as she started to close the blades.

She stopped and slid the scissors an inch or so lower.

'More?' she asked. I nodded. She lowered the scissors until they were touching her scalp and looked at me again.

'What the hell!' she said and started to cut.

I put the camera down and gripped myself as she cut, leaving the video cameras to capture the action. I was watching a woman that I had lusted over on many occasions cutting her hair for me while she was dressed like a porn star. It was true that she was chubby, but dressed in that corset, scissors in hand, she was also supremely attractive. With one final snip she stood away from the spot that she had occupied since we started. Her limp pony tail was suspended from the slack rope and she was running a hand through what was left of her hair, trying to assess the damage. I tugged my jeans from round my ankles and threw my underpants on top.

Her hair had made an attempt to resume its previous place, as if not knowing that much of it was gone. Shortened strands now framed her face and when she turned around, the back was at varying lengths, from almost non-existent to a few inches, depending on where it had been in the pony-tail.

'That's not quite the re-style that I had in mind when I left home this morning' she said with a rueful smile. She had one more stroke of her shaggy hair and then let her hand fall to her side. I asked her to sit on the chair while I took some pictures from various angles, feeling quite at ease as my still-erect cock bobbed with my every move. I watched Samantha's eyes as they locked on to my groin area, amused at her obvious yearning to get more closely acquainted with it. She would have to wait. I went back to my chair and rummaged in my bag again. 

'What's that?' she asked, looking at the black pouch that I had in my hand.

'My haircutting stuff. I'm going to tidy you up, unless you want to go home looking like that' I said. She nodded her acceptance and watched my "third leg" as I approached her and then went behind her. I unzipped the bag and took out my clippers. She started to turn around at the sound when I flicked the switch.

'Eyes forward' I said, touching her on the shoulder. She did as she was told. I looked at her, almost pitying  the state that she had been reduced to, almost feeling guilty for what I was about to do to her, but then I reminded myself that it was a business transaction. I had paid for a service and now it was time for her to provide it. I had intended to run the clippers up the back of her head, so that it would be a surprise, but I changed my mind. I walked around to face her, clippers in hand. She looked at my cock, still erect. She looked at the clippers, buzzing. She understood that she was about to get a very short hair cut, but I doubt that she was aware just what clippers with no guard will do. I doubted that she had ever watched either of her boys be clippered like this

Her fingers closed around my cock as I touched the clippers to her forehead. I could see her shut her eyes at the imminent prospect of the two tools, wanting one as much as she dreaded the other. She squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut as she felt the clippers move across her scalp. My cock responded with a throb as the clippers slid effortlessly through her hair and she started to move her hand along the length of my shaft. I lifted the clippers, the evidence of their efficiency confirmed by the patch of bare skin across the top of her head. There was no going back now. Her hand was starting to work me a little more as she tried to distract herself from what was happening to her. I saw a tear form in the corner of her eye, to be joined by a companion. How had it come to this, she must have been wondering. I paused to wipe her tears and then touched her under her chin to urge her to raise her head so that I could continue. She let go of my cock, leaving me free to move. I wielded the clippers with a deftness and rhythm that surprised even me. I had clippered a couple of women, but not in such a setting. Those had been in the salon, where my reputation was at stake, so everything was professional and above board. They had not been sitting there in corsets and had only received buzzcuts rather than the full-on shave that I was giving Samantha. This was a first for both of us.

She was silent and she was compliant, resigned now, rather than shedding further tears. I was standing behind her and took the opportunity to look around from the pile of hair on the floor to the severed pony-tail hanging triumphantly from the rope. If only most of our student-friends could see us now. The once high and mighty Samantha Yates, as was, now sitting bald in a chair, with only the obvious still to be done. I turned the clippers off and moved around to face her.

'You look beautiful' I told her. It was partly true. She looked better than when I saw her at the reunion, but was still some way from the Samantha of our youth.

'What am I going to tell people? The boys?' she asked quietly.

I held out a hand to get her to stand up so that I could look at her, bald. She teetered on her heels as she stood.

'You can take those off now, if you want' I said. As she sat down to take her shoes off, I drew my tee-shirt over my head. She looked up as she unbuckled the shoes and reached up to touch me with her free hand. I moved away from her and went to the doorway that led to the corridor. I waited there until I knew that she had seen where I had gone and then went in to what my friend James called his "parlour", where he aimed to get his models once the shoots had finished. He considered it a failure if he didn't bed any of the girls that he got back here. I had checked last night that the bed-linen was fresh, just in case. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for a few moments, thinking that perhaps Samantha had decided just to go. I slipped on a condom just in case. I didn't hear her approach in her stockinged feet, but there she was, in the doorway. I reached out a hand towards her and watched her as she walked  towards me. She was clearly still a little stunned that the haircut that she had got wasn't some sort of artistic re-styling that she thought she was going to get, but she was free to check the wording of the contract that she had signed. I had covered myself in the event of any objections. 

I stood up and took her hand, stroking her head with my other hand. It wasn't quite as smooth as I would like, but I would offer to rectify that afterwards. I ran my hand down across her cheek, trailing it across her boobs, pausing to squeeze her ample flesh. I felt her reaching to get a hold of me as my hand moved further down, across the satin sheen of her corset. I felt the string waistband of her knickers, thinking how well they had done so far, but then with a sharp tug I ripped the material. She gasped at the suddenness of my movement and  felt her tighten her grip on me, as if she was hanging on for dear life!

'Bend over' I whispered in her ear.

She looked at me for a split-second and then turned away, palms down, letting her hands take the weight of her body. She moved her feet apart and I slid inside her slowly, savouring my progress. I was inside Samantha Yates, I told myself. I repeated it silently as if it was comparable to winning an Olympic medal or something.

Samantha was much more enthusiastic about this part of her day than she had been about the hair cutting part. She surprised me with her foul mouth as she urged me on to ever more forceful thrusts and gave me the impression that she was trying to make up for lost time all in one go. It had been a little while for me too, but I was a long way from desperate. I looked down at her as I fucked her, thinking that the sight wasn't as unappealing as I had convinced myself that it would be. I had viewed sex with Samantha as part revenge, part "mercy fuck", but I found myself enjoying the experience from the perspective of normal sex. She was a sensual, sexy woman who was now bald because of me. I found myself trying not to think of her like that, tried not to think that I was enjoying it as I wanted it to last. I was humping a big woman and I was having the time of my life. She was pushing back on me, grinding her fleshy buttocks against my belly, wanting me deep inside her. I did what I could.

She started to gasp, louder and louder. Her gasps were covering mine. I withdrew, knowing that my time was nearly done. I had to put the final part of my plan into action, which was the ultimate revenge. She knew what was about to happen and positioned herself for it. I stood in front of her, watching her as she closed her eyes and opened her mouth in readiness, but I had a different target in mind. I had time for a couple of quick tugs and then I was jetting over her scalp, over her face. I felt good for a moment and then felt bad. I had shaved Samantha Yates' head, I had come over her face. I felt sorry for her.

She opened her eyes carefully, trying to avoid getting anything in them. I rubbed my hand over her scalp, spreading my cum over her skin while she wiped some off her cheek. She looked up at me and smiled, surprising me.

'You know, this was worth it just to get screwed like that' she said.

'I'm pleased to be of service' I replied. 

She put her hand to her head, still glistening with my cum, and stroked it.

'So now I know that bald women turn you on. Or is it the act of taking their hair that does it?' she asked. I sat on the bed, as she got herself comfortable at my feet.

'A bit of both really' I said, deciding that I had nothing to lose by being honest.

'And what about the ropes and stuff?' she asked.

'That was for a private collector who asked me for some pictures like that' I replied.

'A discreet, private collector, I hope.'

'Oh yes. Let's just say that he is quite prominent in the local community. He wouldn't like his interests to get out, believe me' I replied with a laugh.

'So what now?' Samantha asked.

'There's a shower through there, if you want to clean up' I replied. 

She didn't need to be asked twice and stood up. She didn't look back as she walked away. I sat there for a few moments until I heard the water running and then realised that I hadn't actually seen Samantha without the corset. Despite my initial concerns, it was something that I quite wanted to do. Anyway, I was starting to feel some stirring in my nether regions at the thought of what I needed to do.

I headed for the bathroom and paused for a moment to watch Samantha's silhouette through the frosted glass. Samantha unleashed! I opened the door and despite her initial look of surprise, she moved further back in the cubicle to let me in. I took the soap from her and showed her the razor that I had brought in with me. She lowered her head, accepting what I was proposing. I lathered her head up and with gentle strokes, I started to shave her. I tried not to be distracted by her unfettered boobs, the subject of many youthful fantasies, I'm sure. Whilst not firm, they were far from the saddlebags that I had expected to see. They were big, but shapely, topped off with large dark nipples. Meanwhile, Samantha had decided upon some exploration of her own, realising that I was starting to show some interest in what I was seeing and doing. She took me in her soapy hands and coaxed me back to hardness.

'You should have said that you were hiding this away. All that time, I was making do with Colin and his modest little prick and I could have had this' she said, gripping me more firmly.

'You only had to ask. I'd have put my books down for a few minutes' I replied, smiling. I was starting to realise that Samantha the bitch had mellowed and present-day Samantha was actually quite good fun. I tried to concentrate on what I was doing, ignoring the progressively more insistent tugs on my cock. I shaved as quickly as I could, watching the darkness of her scalp becoming lighter and lighter as I stroked with the blade. It wasn't the ideal scenario for a perfect job, but it was one that I was quite happy with for the time being. I took a lingering look at Samantha's shaven scalp and decided that it was good enough. I ran my hand over it just to check for any spots that I had missed and then turned the stroking movement into downward pressure, easing Samantha's head lower and lower. I needed to stop mentally ticking off various milestones as they were becoming a distraction. Okay, so here I was getting a blowjob off Samantha Yates, but who really cared anymore. Well, me for a start! She was putting all her attention into it, it was no lazy, going-through-the-motions blow-job, it was a serious attempt to make me come, which I didn't want to do.

I pulled away from her, seeing a look of disappointment cross her face. I didn't want to be selfish and guided her out of the shower. We dried ourselves off quickly and headed back to the "parlour". Samantha, the mother of two teenagers, once more morphed into Samantha the foul-mouthed slut, eager and willing. I was happy to oblige.

Once our passion had subsided, we were back in the shower again, but this time, it was all business. I was conscious that I had to tidy up the studio ready for the next people who would be coming in. I had removed all traces of our activity by the time that Samantha re-appeared, dressed as she had been when we met earlier on. It was Samantha in street-clothes now, rather than the red corset and stockings and I think that I actually preferred her like that if I was being honest. Not that she wasn't sexy in the lingerie, it was just that in the street-clothes, there is very little hint of the passionate, full-bloodied woman underneath, so when revealed it is a pleasant surprise.

I saw Samantha looking in the mirror, trying to get used to herself without all of that dark hair. She was running a hand across her scalp.

'I still can't believe that you've done this or that I let you' she said gently. 

'I can't believe that I've done it either, but I hope you have some idea of how much I enjoyed it' I replied.

'Hopefully you realise that the enjoyment was mutual' she said, patting the front of my trousers.

'Careful, you don't want to wake him up again' I said.

'Oh, but I do!' she insisted.

I moved away from her and delved in my equipment bag again. I pulled out a long, dark brown wig.

'Just to show that I'm not a total bastard' I said, holding it out to her. She paused at the sight of it.

'You know, I'm going to go like this, but thank you for thinking of me' she replied.

That was a turn up for the books. I moved towards her and kissed her on top of her bald head, signalling the end of our little experience. I let Stephanie go, telling her that I needed just to finish a few bits up before I went. Those few "bits" were actually the video cameras that had hopefully been recording the proceedings. As she left she told me to give her a call sometime. Of course, I said that I would, not intending to at all, but you know what it's like on a lonely evening. That evening came only a few days later when I was bored with the football and had possibly drunk one can of beer too many. It was the perfect scenario to pick up the phone to somebody that you said you would never see again. Maybe it was the guilt that I had been experiencing at the way that I had treated her.

I'm probably as surprised as you that Samantha and I are now an "item" to use a word that I don't really like. We have been together for a couple of months now and I like to think that we are making each other happy. She's teaching me not to be so narrow-minded about larger ladies and I'm teaching her to eat smaller portions! When we're not doing that, we look for ways to develop the "specialist" modelling agency that we have founded. She has proved to be a real asset in that line of work and totally willing to throw herself in to whatever needs to be done. She shaves her head every few days and that has been a real bonus when trying to convince some of our models to be a little more adventurous. Wish us luck!

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