Chapter IV – "The final step"

Sally’s eyes became focused on the chair. Her mind could see the girls and women as they had their turn in it. Each acted as if getting their hair buzzed off, or their heads shaved, were something women did at this time of every year. As if it were the normal thing for women to do.

Mike put the cape over the back of the chair, as if Sally were not standing there. The cape was ready for the next customer, for her, or his, hair to cover it until there was no more to come tumbling on to it. Strands that would join many before them somewhere only Mike knew.

Candi had stopped outside the doorway, waiting for Sally to go with her to the general store. Some of her requested items had arrived early that day. Candi noticed Sara, Jean, and two other women looking back into the barbershop.

Their eyes were focused on something. As they slowly started walking back to the doorway Candi turned around. She stood watching Sally, her mind in a wondering state, her eyes fixed on the barber chair.

"Is she?" Candi thought to herself.

Candi felt Jean’s hand on her shoulder. "Do you thinking she is going to?" Jean whispered into Candi’s right ear.

Candi shrugged her shoulders in an "I don’t know" way.

Slowly Sara slid her right arm around Candi’s waist. "I think she is just thinking about it," she whispered into Candi’s left ear.

Candi felt Sara’s heavy breathing, as her right hand slowly moved up from her waist. As Sara placed a soft kiss on the left side of Candi’s head, her right hand gently cupped the bottom half of her right breast. Candi turned her head to the left. She smiled at Sara, who was giving her a wink. Candi shook her head yes.

"Are you coming to get your order?" Candi spoke loudly breaking Sally’s mixed thoughts.

"Hua?" Sally said as if she was woken from a deep sleep. She shook her head and blinked her eyes. "What?"

"I said, part of your order came in today," Candi told her. "I just wanted to know if you were going to come with me and pick it up."

Sally shook her head again. She looked around for Mike, but he had disappeared into the back of the shop. Her eyes, glazed like a crystal glass, looked at the chair, then the women standing in the doorway.

"Oh," her voice cracked. "I’ll come get it."

"Well, let’s go," Candi sparked. "I have something I have to get taken care of."

With that Sara removed her hand from Candi’s breast, Jean and the other women turned and walked away. Sara reached her hand out to Sally.

"Thinking about it," she told Sally.

"About what?" Sally asked.

"CLICK – BUZZZZ," Candi sounded as her eyebrows rose in anticipation of a favorable reply.

"Don’t be so silly," Sally said meaningfully. "It will be a long time before you see me in that barber’s chair."

They walked over to the little store, where Candi and Sara helped Sally put her things into her car. As she drove off Candi and Sara waved, Sara’s right hand rising behind Candi to come to rest on her soft behind. Sara turned her head a little.

"Come my dear, we have a problem to take care of."

They walked to Candi’s apartment above the store.

When Sally arrived at her cabin, she unloaded the things and put them away. She fixed herself a soft drink, with a little short of bourbon. "To calm my thoughts," was her reasoning.

As the next few days passed Sally began writing the events which had happened since her arrival. Her story began: "No one is going to believe this quiet little place and what happens here every year."

Her first time at writing something and it would have to be about something many would find strange, and others would call fictional. For her it was reality. If she did not put in writing no one would believe her; then again not many would even when it was finished. "Oh well, at least it may get published," she thought. Her first book, something many actresses had done.

Maybe some producer would read it and turn it into a movie. She could get a good price for them to do so. The money would come in handy.

Each night she would write a little, wanting to make sure she remembered what was done, to whom it was done, and the many other things she had seen and heard about.

Days began to turn into a week; soon she noticed the date. She would only be here three more months. She could hardly believe she had spent three months. Three wonderful, but crazy, months. Months no one would believe, months she hardly believed herself.

The weather had been a mixture of cool nights and warm days, with a few days of rain. The mist lay until mid-morning for a few weeks. But, for the last four days, the sun had been coming up early and the temperature was getting higher each day. Yesterday it reached the mid-90’s, and the low 100’s was predicted for today.

It had been almost a month since she was in to get some groceries, read a newspaper, or even talk to her neighbors. They must think she had left, or maybe become a female hermit. After making a list of things she needed, she put on a summer skirt, a short sun blouse, and tennis shoes.

She walked through the woods and was shielded by the tall pine trees. Just a flicker of sunlight caught her "in the cabin" eyes, causing her to see spots. She heard the sound of the children swimming and boating on the lake, the soft song the birds were singing, and felt the fresh air.

"A good day for a swim," she thought to herself. "I’ll sneak over to the little place Sara told me about and do a little skinny dipping."

As she approached the little city, she heard someone call out, "Where’ve you been hiding?"

She looked around to see who it was, but could not see anyone that close to her. But, when she reached the general store everyone was interested in where she had been keeping herself.

She explained her first adventure in writing. That she had chosen this little city to write about. "No one would believe what goes on up here this time of the year," she told them.

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Crammer, who ran the boat launch by the lake.

"You know," Sally said as if she had said something they did not know about. "You know, how all of you get your head shaved."

They looked at each other, wondering what she was talking about. As if she was talking about something strange, but to them it was normal. Something they found as a way of life.

Sally decided to stop there, as she could see the looks on their faces. It was enough to make her think they were maybe right, and the rest of the planet wrong.

It was around 3pm and the sun was still high in the skin. The heat from it made even sitting in the shade hot. The thermometer read 102 degrees, the humidity gauge read 100 percent. Everyone was wearing short pants and short sleeved shirts or blouses. Many were walking around in bare feet, dancing and jumping every time they touched a hot stop of dirt. Jack, Candi’s father and the owner of the general store, was doing good business selling soft drinks. The children were drinking more than usual, as were the adults.

Mr. Crammer was allowing the teenagers to use the boat and canoes for free, as they would paddle to the center of the lake and go diving in the deep part. On the floating dock some were sunbathing. He had ordered a lot of sun tanning lotion and sold almost all of it that morning alone.

The heat had body water running off their buzzed or shaven heads. It became sticky when it dripped down the blouse or shirt. "Glad I got my head shaved yesterday," said one teenager as she and two others, also with their heads shaved, came out the general store.

Was this statement meant for her? Sally thought.

As she watched them run towards the lake, her thoughts of how they must feel came to mind. No hair to stick to your neck or face. The thought almost had her wishing she had her head shaved, or at least buzzed close. The more she watched and saw the women with their heads so cool, the more her mind, her deep mind, became hypnotized by the thought. Her eyes turned to the barbershop.

"I wonder if anyone is there," she thought.

Her breathing slowly started growing with anticipation. Her body was nervously moving, moving her towards the barbershop. The barbershop for the chair, and to watch and feel the relief she would get with her hair cut short. Not buzzed or shaved, but short.

"A nice comfortable short haircut. One everyone back home would like on me," she told herself.

Dryness came to her throat; she took a sip of her soft drink. She looked around, the sun shining in her eyes to block any view she wanted.

"Has anyone seen …..?" she asked, but stopped.

There he was. Mike was sitting in the doorway of his barbershop. No one was there but him.

"This would be the right time," she said under her breath.

She stood up and tossed her empty soft drink can in the barrow with the others. She looked at the barbershop again. Her mind was now being over-ruled by the heat. It was time, she told herself, time to get her hair cut shorter. Shorter, but not buzzed or shaved. Just a few inches, say three or four.

"Where you off to?" asked Candi, who was filling the ice bucket.

"It time," she said to her.

"Time?" Candi asked in a voice of high anticipation. "Time for what?"

"A few inches," Sally replied as she took a deep breath and started walking towards the barbershop.

Her pace was slow, as if she were walking in a Jazz funeral. The closer she got the more her heart began to sound. Her eyes focused on Mike, wondering if he would know why she was walking towards him and the barbershop as such.

Mike looked up from the newspaper with a glance. He looked back at the newspaper as Sally came around the big pine tree. He smiled.

She was about fifteen yards from the barbershop where she stopped.

"Am I doing the right thing?" she wondered.

"It’s only hair," came a soft voice, one she had not heard from in many years.

With a lump in her throat she took another deep breath.

Mike looked over the top of the newspaper, as Sally came closer. He slid from the middle of the doorway, to see what she would do.

Her hands were twitching in each other. Was it a nervous twitch, she asked herself.

Her throat became drier the closer she got to the barbershop. She looked up and saw the big chair through the window; there was no one in it. She stopped in front of Mike, her breathing deep and heavy. She smiled at Mike as he looked up at her from the newspaper.

"Just a few inches," she told him.

Mike folded the newspaper as she stepped into his barbershop. She was now on his playing field. It was his game they would be playing, just as he had played with the others.

As he turned and entered the door Sally was standing by the chair, her left hand out, gently brushing the leather of the right arm, her eyes staring at the footrest.

Mike walked behind the chair and pulled the cape from the bar behind the chair. With a flicking movement of his arms the cape was popped open.

Sally’s left hand slowly reached for the left armrest. Her right foot slowly stepped on to the metal plate of the footrest. Her body slowly turned and rested into the chair. Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath in relief. The nervousness became a tightening in her stomach. Her beating heart became soundless, as if it had stopped.

Another deep breath and her eyes opened, looking at her in the mirrored wall.

"You did it," the mirror said to her. "Just sit and watch. Enjoy…"

Mike tossed the cape across her, as she saw the barbershop begin to fill with her neighbors: Candi, Sara, Jean, and Penny.

Gail, Penny’s daughter, and some of the teenage girls sat on the floor in front of their mothers. Some of the boys were standing and sitting in the back of the shop. The men were looking in from the doorway or the window. There were more there than when Pam had had her head shaved.

And she was only getting a few inches cut off. Just above the ears, something like a bowl cut of kind.

She smiled as she looked over her gallery of spectators. It was as if she were at a convention of some kind. The patient in a surgery theater.

All eyes were on her, on Mike.

Her eyes caught Mike bring the comb to the center of her head. He began making a center part, from the front to the back of her head. He combed each section to its fullest. Slowly he worked his way around her head, her hair becoming free, flying in the breeze of the ceiling fan. He sprayed her head with warm water, combing each section back off her face.

She had never combed her hair this way: it looked strange. Boyish, or butch, as some back home would call it. Only women who like other women combed their hair this way, back off their face in a boyish style.

Was shaving their heads a way for the women to cover their true selves? But then, why the men?

Her mind was brought back to reality as she heard the scissors starting their first slice.

Mike had begun cutting at the center part. The strands of the first section hung in front of her right eye. He combed it three times before sliding the section between his fingers. He hesitated, as he looked at her in the mirror.

His fingers were holding the section of hair just two inches from her head. She closed her eyes. "Two inches too long" she thought.

Just as her eyes opened she heard the sound of the scissors cutting the strands. Slowly they started falling before her eyes. He let go and combed another section. This time he did not hesitate, nor did he look at her in the mirror.

She was in his playing field.

The second section fell past her right eye, not touching her face like the first. Another section was combed, the scissors quickly cut their way through it. It tumbled from his fingers, making a quick soft touch of her right cheek. The fourth section was combed and cut, falling behind the chair where she could not see it fall.

The cut section was standing straight up, as if telling her.

Mike started combing and cutting on the left side of the center part. Each section fell as on the other side of the part.

Candi was leaning over telling the others something. They looked up at Sally, as Mike was cutting the rest of the right side of her head. Each section of hair was cut to the same length, two inches from her head. The cape was being filled with her hair, the cut length longer than she wanted it.

Her mind began showing her with a buzzed head. She tried to shake the image from the mirror, from her mind. But it stayed, looking back at her.

She felt Mike’s rough hand shaking her head from side to side, back to front. Her thoughts came back from the image of her buzzed head, to see her hair shorter than she had ever had it cut. Shorter than she wanted it cut.

She watched as Mike put the comb and scissors down on the shelf. As his right hand reached under the shelf, his left brought a small can of oil to it.

There was a loud "CLICK" with a steady humming. A soft lump came to her throat. The onlookers took a breath and watched with anticipation.

Mike walked to the right side of the chair, the clippers singing their song. Their eyes locked on each other in the mirror.

Sally made a dry swallow as Mike brought the clippers to the center of her forehead. She took a deep breath as he quickly pushed the clippers back over her head. A pile of hair was being pushed back, some of the clipped strands falling to the sides. Behind it was left hair half an inch in length. Her eyes grew as the clippers came back singing their cries of victory.

The second pass was made on the right side of the first one down the center of her head. The clipped hairs fell down onto her shoulder, some tumbling into her lap. The third was made just above her ear. A short upward pass was made in front of her right ear.

Mike placed his left hand on top of her head and tilted it until her chin was resting at the bottom of her throat. She looked up at the mirror; she could just see what he was going to do.

The clippers made contact with the skin below her hairline. The humming sound began to cut her hair, as strands fell to the floor behind the chair. One, two, three… six passes upward and the back of her neck and head was as short as the right side.

Standing on the left side of the chair, Mike began clipping her head the same way he did the right side. First pass was made left of the center clipping pass. Three backward passes, two upward passes and he was finished. Her hair was standing up, standing up half an inch.

"Just the beginning," the image in the mirror told her. "Just the beginning…"

Her breathing had slowed, her heartbeat was almost normal; her thoughts were blurred. Candi was sitting nervously watching. Sara, Jean and Penny were holding hands, as if in prayer.

"CLICK, hummmmmmmmmmmm…"

The image of Mike came clear to her eyes in the mirror. He was holding the singing clippers in his right hand. There was no cover on their hungry teeth. His left hand brushed over her half-inch hairs from the front to the back. At the back it came to a rest, holding her head still from any movement.

Slowly the clippers came up to the center of her head, stopping just within eyesight. Her eyes were almost cross-eyed as they watched. Watched to see what the clippers were going to do.

Candi was now holding hands with the other three, their eyes staring into hers.

The humming sound got louder as Mike moved the clippers to the hairline. The hungry teeth chewed at her hair, to do away with each strand as they made contact.

The image in the mirror began to chant. "Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

Her eyes made contact with Mike. She took a deep breath, causing her body to rise.

Not a word was said.

Before she could blink her eyes the humming clippers turned to a cutting sound. She watched in fear, in joy, as the clippers left behind a buzzed scalp.

The movement of the onlookers was as if they finally had what they wanted.

She became relaxed as the clippers came back for their next pass back over her head. Her body became relieved as the second pass began. Quickly Mike made pass after pass, leaving behind only an eighth of an inch of hair.

"Fuzz," she recalled one girl calling it. Fuzz to be shaved, shaved.

Her eyes grew large as the image smiled a "YES" to her. Her thoughts were now of her head being shaved. Shaved bald like Candi, Sara, Jean, Penny, and the other women and girls. Like the men and boys.

She tried to shake the thought as Mike was finishing up clipping the right side. Clipping it to a buzz cut.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, her red China Doll hair cut grown out a few inches and now all that was left to the right side was a buzz cut. As Mike buzzed the back of her head and neck the image told her, "Soon you will have that pretty buzzed cut everyone has been telling you to get."

The more she looked at the image, the more she looked at Candi, Sara, Jean, and Penny. Their shaven heads looked so cool, so soft and gentle. "Sexy" she had heard Jean’s youngest daughter call it: "Smooth and sexy."

The eyes of the onlookers were pleased at what they had seen. The image in the mirror was pleased as well.

She watched as the clippers made their last upward pass. They were pushed upward in front of her left ear, tossing the hairs they clipped into the air and their singing stopping.

Mike walked to the shelf and hung the clippers up. He returned with the long soft hair duster and began dusting her buzz cut and face and neck. Its softness sent shivers down her spine, causing her body to shake as if with a chill. She did not think a haircut could feel so good, so great, to give her such relief, as if her hair were begging in pain.

Candi, Sara, Jean, and Penny had let go of each other’s hand. Sara let hers gently rest on Candi’s left knee. Penny gave Sally the thumbs-up sign in approval. She smiled back.

Mike’s right hand reached up and undid the clip holding the cape around her neck, as his left hand pulled something from the cabinet below the shelf. As the cape slid down her, Mike turned and turned on the hot water in the sink. She knew what he had removed from the cabinet. She watched in the mirror as Mike moved about behind her.

The sound of running water stopped.

Mike turned around with a large hot towel in his hands. She took two quick breaths as he wrapped it around her buzz cut. Her head rose as its warmth touched her sensitive buzzed scalp. She had watched Sara’s head being wrapped by the warmth of the hot towel. She began to wonder if this was one of the reasons that they shaved their heads.

As Mike let the warm towel sit on her head, he tucked another one in the collar of her blouse.

"Don’t want to get shaving cream on it," he whispered to her.

She smiled at him.

The sound of the shaving cream dispenser filled the shop as she, and the onlookers, watched a pile of white grow in his left hand. Soon, the sound stopped and he turned to her. His right hand removed the now cool towel from her head. Her buzz cut was damp, the paleness of her scalp showed.

He tossed the towel into the sink of running hot water.

He stepped to the right side of the chair. His eyes not looking at hers in the mirror, she turned her head toward him. Her eyes looked at the soft white pile of shaving cream. She closed her eyes and turned her head forward, to watch in the mirror.

As her eyes opened the onlookers were watching with cheering eyes and smiles. The image in the mirror was smiling at her: it had no hair. Its head was smooth with the hint of redness and paleness.

Mike took a small amount of shaving cream and began spreading it onto her forehead. Her body became limp, sliding downwards a little in relief. His hand took another small amount and began spreading it behind the first.

As she watched with the other onlookers, Mike began spreading the warm shaving cream over her head quickly. The first layer was worked into the buzzed hair, slowly growing with each spreading. A second layer was applied to cover the eighth of an inch buzz, leaving only a cap of soft white on her head.

When Mike walked to the sink, her four friends huddled in joy. Joy of seeing their new friend joining them in a smooth shaven haircut.

Sally sat looking at herself in the mirror. The image she had seen was her.

Mike took hold of the leather strap and began stropping the straight razor over it. The blade began to shine, shine like it did when he stropped it for shaving the others.

Her eyes, her mind, watched, wanting the razor to do away with the white cream and the red fuzzy hairs it covered, to be smooth and bald like the others.

He began at the center part, shaving downward. Each stroke was short, leaving behind smooth pale reddish skin.

Her mind worked faster than Mike and the razor. It was shaving long strokes, removing more shaving cream and fuzz than Mike.

The cool breeze from the ceiling fan began to tickle her exposed scalp. Her body began to chill in pleasure.

Did the others feel this too?

As he shaved back over her head he tilted it toward him, shaving an even line back over her head down the center. It was about two inches, looking like a path down a snow-covered mountain. His left hand pressed her chin up causing her head to tilt to the left. Soon, the right side of her head was shaved smooth.

The dampness of the warm shaving cream left a glow on the scalp.

Mike tilted her head downward, but not as much as he did when he clipped her, to shave the back of her head and neck.

Her eyes watched the eyes of the onlookers, of her friends sitting in front of her. They had a pleasing look, one of enjoying what they were seeing. Her deep mind was feeling pleased she was now pleasing the others, as they had pleased her.

Mike was working his way around the left side of her head. Soon she would only have skin showing. No more hair to spend money on, to spend hours at a beauty salon only to walk out with something close to what you wanted. More time to rest.

As Mike was taking the last few strokes with the razor, Sally began to wonder.

"Who won the bet?" she asked out loud for everyone to hear.

No one said a word. They just smiled, and she did the same for them.

She watched Mike put the straight razor away. He took another white towel from the cabinet under the shelf. It was soaked in the hot running water and wrapped around her smooth sensitive skin.

"I hope you are going to make my haircut real smoooooth," Sally asked of Mike.

Mike turned and pressed the button of the dispenser. A pile of warm shaving cream filled his left hand. Turning he removed and tossed the towel to the floor under the shelf. As he began lathering her head he smiled and told her, "So smooooth you may want to shave it before going to bed. Just to feel how to do it yourself."

Everyone was still there: no one had left.

Mike pulled a safety razor from the drawer under the shelf. He shook it under the warm running water. Standing on the right side of the chair he brought the razor up to her forehead.

Sally turned her head to look at him. "I want to watch your eyes as you make the first few shavings," she said to him, smiling.

Mike had never had one of the women or girls do this to him. He was caught off guard and hesitated somewhat.

She saw fear in his eyes. Had she made him wonder about things he had done?

Slowly Mike placed the razor on her head and made a short stroke. He wrenched the razor and made another. A third, fourth, and a fifth were made. Sally smiled at him and turned to her onlookers.

Mike began to feel weak, but he returned and started shaving Sally’s head. Each stroke made her scalp smoother, removing the hairs closer to the scalp than the straight razor. She remembered Mr. John telling her father that, but he still wanted a straight razor shave.

Mike quickened the shaving as Sally’s eyes began following his every move, every razor stroke. It was as if she were pushing him, pushing him to finish something she had finally realized she wanted from the first day she arrived.

It felt as if he was taking longer to shave her head than it took to do the others. Was there some reason?

Her head began feeling cold from the ceiling fan, but it was a coldness she was enjoying.

He tilted her head to the right as he began taking the last few strokes. The last stroke was in front of her left ear. This one taken, Mike turned and tossed the safety razor in the trashcan behind the chair.

The large white towel was dampened under the hot water and wrapped around her now smoother scalp. He let it sit a few seconds and wiped her scalp of any remaining shaving cream. He applied a sweet lotion and then he dusted her head with the sweet-smelling hair powder. The soft hairs of the hair duster felt gentle as he brushed the powder over the shaven head. The towel was removed from her collar, the chair lowered to its fullness.

Sally stood up as Candi was the first to come to her.

As Sally stroked her fingers over her shaven head, Candi asked, "How’s it feel?"

Sally smiled and gently closed her eyes. They knew what she was saying. Each one gave Sally a hug and a gentle kiss.

Sara let her tongue flicker on Sally’s cheek.

As Mike began sweeping the floor everyone began leaving the barbershop.

"Let’s have a barbecue at the lake," some young male voice yelled out. Everyone cheered and began chanting "Barbecue, barbecue, barbecue…"

The breeze was warm that night, the water also. Everyone was dancing, swimming, boating, just having a good time. The barbecue lasted into early the next morning, but what the heck – no one had to go to work tomorrow.

Sally kept her head shaved for the rest of her stay, as did the others. Each Saturday the women would gather at the lake for a swim. Sometimes some of them would shave each other’s head. This Sally came to like doing. It gave her some power over someone else, but it was not like the power of control. It was the power of enjoyment of doing something you have come to like doing. And having done to you.

The last three months passed by fast. She had completed the story, even adding a little more to it than was true. Finally the last night came.

Sally had Candi, Sara, Jean, and Penny over for some Hollywood cooking and to down the last of the fine wine she had brought with her. The dinner lasted late, just like the parties back in Hollywood would.

After they had finished all the food and the three bottles of red wine to wash it down, talk turned to why Sally had waited so long to join them for a bald haircut. Sally told them she did not know, but maybe they should read her book when their copies arrived. She promised each one a signed first-print copy.

It was around 10pm when Sally told them, "I have a surprise for each of you. Now don’t go away."

She got up and went into the bedroom. When she returned in a few minutes, she was carrying a box. She opened it and began handing out a bottle of bourbon to each one.

"This is bourbon I bought when I got out of high school. I think it is time I got rid of it. Do you want to help me?" she asked with a intoxicating look.

Each one took a bottle, opened it.

"Cheers!" came their command as they poured its contents into their mouth.

"I know a place you are not shaved," Sara said to Sally.

Sally looked at her, as the others began to laugh. Her mind began to think. "Oooooo, you mean my little box of joy," she said as her body moved in a small circle. "It is not now, but it has been."

"Get the razor and shaving creams," commanded Penny. "We must make you really bald like us."

As Candi stood up, searching for something to hold onto, the others began taking their clothing off. Candi somehow made her way into the bathroom and returned carrying the razor and a can of shaving cream.

"Seeeeee," Sara slurred, "no hair here."

"None here," Sara said as she pulled Jean’s underpants down her legs.

Penny had none on, so Sara just pointed.

Before Candi could put the razor and shaving cream down, Penny was pulling her shorts down.

"My, my," Penny stumbled out as she put her eyes close to Candi’s pussy. "Looky here. She’s got a little earring in hers."

Candi looked down and pushed Penny’s face out of the way. She then propped her left leg on the table. "Naaaaa," she laughed. "See, I have four of them."

"O.K.," Sara commanded. "Let’s look at them rings later. We have to get Sally shaved."

With that Sally flopped to the floor, half asleep from the wine.

"What’re you gonna use for water?" Jean asked, brushing her fingers over Sally’s pubic hair as if she was pouring water.

Candi looked into the box of bourbon. "One extra," she said holding up a bottle. Before anyone could say a word she had it open and was pouring the bourbon on Sally.

Penny began spraying a pile of shaving cream on her pubic hair as Candi and Jean began spreading it. Sara was sitting between Sally’s legs waving the safety razor around.

"Everyone, back off out the way," she commanded as she leaned forward. "I need plenty of room."

It took an hour, but Sara finally finished shaving Sally’s pussy. Candi poured some bourbon as Sara wiped her pussy clean. Sally gave a little jump as Sara let two fingers slide in.

"A little wet, arrrr we?" Sara asked.

They fell on top of Sally laughing, hugging and giving each other little pecks on the cheek. It was around 2 o’clock the next morning when Penny, Jean, and Candi left. Sara said she would stay behind and help Sally clean up. They had poured about four pots of coffee down by this time. Still they walked with a little sway. When they were out of sight, Sara asked Sally if she was still a little wet. At first Sally could not think clearly, but when Sara slid her hand between her legs she knew.

"Yes," Sally told her. And before she could say a word, Sara was down on her knees, her face pushing Sally’s legs apart.

It was late the next morning when Sara left. Both of them had a smile on their face.

Sally stopped at the general store to tell Candi’s father where to send any mail that might come for her. Penny was there with a little food basket, Jean with a little gift from everyone. Mike was nowhere in site. In fact the barbershop had a "CLOSED" sign on the door.

Sally began the long drive home, taking her time as she watched the tall pine trees pass in her rearview mirror. Her thoughts were of the adventures she had had, and how much better her stay had been after she had submitted to having her head shaved.

As she turned onto the highway heading south to Hollywood, she turned on the radio and turned the knob until she found the easy listening music. A few miles down she reached down and plugged in her car telephone. She punched in the code of her manager’s telephone number and it rang.

"Hello?" her manager said.

"Hi, love. It’s me," she softly told him.

"Where in the hell have you been the last six months?" he asked her.

"In a little cabin by Lake Hi," she replied. "I needed some rest, a long rest. So, I packed a few bags and took off."

"Lake what?" he asked her.

"Lake Hi. Up in the mountains by a town called High Point," she said in disbelief.

"High Point? Lake Hi?" he returned. "What have you been drinking, Sally?"

"The usual," she told him. "And you would not believe what I did there. I wrote a book about my little adventure, and I got my head shaved. I’m bald. And I like it."

"You’re what?" he asked in fear.

"BALD!" she yelled back at him. "You know, bald as in no hair on my head. And, no hair on my pussy as of last night, too."

"Sally," he said calmly. "What have you been taking. You did not start back on the drugs, did you?"

"Babe, the only high I’m on is life," she cocked back at him. "And, bald. So, you’ll have to start looking for movies I can wear wigs in, because I am not letting my hair grow back for you or anyone."

"Sally, I want you to pull your car to the side of the road," he told her. "Do it now."

"But why?" she asked.

"Don’t ask. Just do it," he said to her.

She pulled the car off the road and began slowing down. When it came to a stop she told him, "I’m stopped and pulled to the side. Now what"?

"Sally, I don’t know where you think you were," he said in a pondering voice, "but there is not lake named Lake Hi, or a city called High Point."

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

"Remember that movie role you turned down last summer. The one for Dick Young?" he told her.

"Yes," he heard her say.

"Remember why you turned it down?" he said waiting for her to say something. "You turned it down because they wanted you to shave your head. REMEMBER?"

Sally’s right hand reached for the rearview mirror and turned it so she could see herself in it. Her eyes stared in the mirror in disbelief. Her hands jumped to her head. She blinked her eyes a few times.

She took a deep breath and ran her hand over her head again.

Her head was full of red hair – it was not shaved. She was not bald.

She let out a loud scream in disbelief.

She could hear her manager yelling for her on the telephone, but she was too scared to pick it up and talk to him. She just sat there looking at herself and running her fingers through her hair.

"What? Where?" she began to wonder to herself. Did she really?

I end this story with this long last chapter. Sometimes, they say, your mind does strange things to itself. You think you are doing something, but you are not. This story is a case in point. I hope the wait was worth it, and the ending was… well, we can’t always have it our way, can we?

JimB Copyright (C) 1st. of January 2003