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With some trepidation, I walked into my old office on Monday. I’d been retrenched last Friday, and my dear boss Simon, who’d felt bad enough about `letting me go’, had managed to find an extra week’s work on lucrative casual pay.

What Simon didn’t know was that in celebration of my big payout last Friday my husband Josh had buzzed my hair to a number two all over! Not the perfect look for a legal secretary working in an English regional market town, where even colourful foils or an asymmetrical haircut raised eyebrows.

Coward that I was, I wore a hat into the office..better break it to them gently!

Emily, the paralegal who’d be moving to Birmingham with Simon, was packing boxes.

“Hi, Ella! So glad you could help us. Simon felt so bad asking you after paying you out.”

“Not at all, happy to help,” I said cheerfully. “It’s another week’s pay.” I put my bag down on my old desk, which looked empty and forlorn.

“Nice hat.”

Grinning, I took the nice hat off. Emily shrieked.

“ELLA! WHAT have you done?”

“Had a haircut. Time for a change, a new career. Or no career at all for a while,” I said casually, trying to control my shudders of delight as Emily rushed across the office and ran her hands over my stubbly hair. It was irresistible, I knew..it looked so soft and furry. People just wanted to touch it. At least Josh did; he hadn’t kept his hands from my head all weekend.

“Ooh,” said Emily. “Ooh. It’s all fuzzy.” Finally she let my head go and I almost had to cross my legs to hide the excited wetness I was sure was staining the crotch of my jeans.

She tilted her head on one side. “You know, it really does suit you. But HOW could you have all your lovely hair shaved off like that?”

I laughed. “Easily. I’d been longing to try it for ages but working here, it didn’t seem appropriate.”

Emily wrinkled her nose. “I know what you mean. I’d love to wear funkier clothes but I have a feeling the clientele would be stunned or terrified if I rolled up in a microskirt and crop top.” She tossed her own shoulder length, curly bob, a delectable shade of deep, dark auburn, back in a motion that gave me a fleeting rush of regret that I couldn’t do that any more. My head was still tingling from Emily’s caress though, and any regret passed quickly. “And I’d love to do something wild with my hair too, not just wear it loose or up in those bloody buns that every flippin’ paralegal or solicitor wears.”

Ah, music to my ears! I said caressingly, “But you’re moving to Birmingham, Em. A big city. Broader outlooks. Nobody looks twice at people walking down the street wearing weird things, funky things, shaved heads, tattoos, women with crew cuts. And the law firm that’s taken you over is full of young people. They can’t ALL be conservative, I’m sure. Why don’t you lash out and live a little? You’ll be putting Dorminster well behind you. Think of the clubs in Brum for starters.”

Emily was younger than I by nearly ten years, a sweet girl who would blossom in a bigger city, away from her parents with whom she still lived. Her eyes were full of city lights as she gazed past me; perhaps she imagined herself in a club, dancing with a young stud, her ears boasting satellite dish dangly earrings, her long legs shown off to perfection in a tiny skirt. And what about her hair? I was imagining that myself all too well!

“You’re right, Ella. First thing I do with my pay when I move is buy a new wardrobe,” she said, with a firm nod of her head. The curls bounced.

Before I could suggest a change of hairstyle, Simon’s hearty whistle echoed down the corridor. “Hey, girls!” he shouted, slinging his briefcase into his office in a most un-solicitor-like way. “Have you started pack -”

He saw me and his jaw dropped. “Ella? Is that really you?”

I suppose the heavy eye makeup wasn’t something I normally wore to the office, let alone the haircut, the tight jeans and equally tight t-shirt and my favourite black boots with the killingly pointed toes.

Simon let out a long, tuneless whistle and walked around me. “Wow,” he said finally. “Who’d ever have thought Annie Lennox was hiding behind those polite skirts and jackets? It’s lucky you’re not working here any more! Old Colonel Maddox would have a fit! And I probably wouldn’t get any work done at all. You look amazing!” Like Emily, he stroked my clipped hair wonderingly. “I’ve never seen such a short haircut on a woman.”

I burst out laughing. “You obviously haven’t been around much, Simon! I’m sure you’ll see all kinds of sights in Birmingham!”

He was still stroking my hair. “I do like this, I really do. It’s sort of, boyish, but on you it’s so feminine, it really brings out your eyes. Damn it, Ella, if you weren’t married I’d make a terrific play for you!” Finally he dropped his hands to his sides. “So, a new image for a new phase of your life, eh? Not a bad idea.”

Simon ran his hands through his own hair, a floppy mane that was out of date; much like Hugh Grant’s hair in Four Weddings and a Funeral. Dorminster wasn’t the most fashion-conscious of towns and Simon’s haircut was probably still fairly `new’ as far as local trends went. God only knows I’d seen seventies sideburns and eighties mullets in the local pubs. “What do you think, girls? Should I get a new haircut too to fit in with the trendy blokes up in Brum?”

Simon was single, in his late thirties, a little on the chubby side – cuddly more than fat – with a cheeky face and wicked smile. He’d probably look good with a crewcut instead of that floppy forelock, and I told him so.

“What, like yours?” He touched his hair nervously. Ah, a long-haired lad.they were always the best to convert. Look at my darling Josh!

“Well, you could go a little longer if you wanted. But you’ve got nice thick hair, it’s not receding at all, why not? If you hate it, it will soon grow out,” I said persuasively. “Think how many of those Brummy girls would like to run their hands over your head like you did with mine.”

“What the heck, it’s only hair,” Simon said finally. “Can you girls keep packing while I find a barber?”

Not for nothing did I bring my big tote bag with me today; my barber’s set was nestling inside it.

“Sit down, Simon. I’ll cut your hair. For free.”

Simon turned pale. “You? But you’re not a hairdresser. Or barber. You’re a legal secretary.”

“WAS a legal secretary. I’ve been cutting Josh’s hair for years. He’s got the same haircut as me at the moment. It’s totally painless.” I pushed a numb Simon into the nearest office chair – my old one, as it happens – and whipped out the cape from my bag.

Emily gaped as I threw it round Simon’s neck like a toreador goading a bull.

“You’ll look super, Simon. Let’s just call this a farewell gift from me to you, for being such a good boss.” Before he could move I plugged the clippers into the wall and slipped the number two guard on.

I swung the chair around to face me, flicked the clippers into life and regarded Simon’s shining, floppy hair for the last time. It was in good condition. It would look great on the floor.

The clippers crackled and snarled as I pushed them straight down the middle of Josh’s centre part.

Emily said, “Ooh,” again, her eyes like saucers as she watched me shear Simon’s conker brown hair. “Ooh, Ella, it’s so QUICK!”

Doesn’t give the victim time to escape, I thought happily to myself.

“How short are you taking it?” wondered Simon, who thankfully couldn’t see his hair being shorn in any reflective surface. With the top now clipped ruthlessly, and long hair still at the sides, he did look odd.

“Same as mine,” I said briskly. To cheer him up, I stroked the top of his head. “How does that feel?”

Simon groaned pleasurably. “Nice. Odd to feel it so short, but nice.”

He sat wordlessly as I moved to the side and ran the clippers up his temple. His hair fell in clumps onto his knees. “God.there’s a lot of it.”

“And heaps more to go,” I s
aid cheerfully, pushing an ear forward and buzzing around it. I would have loved to have taken longer, but didn’t want Simon to see how aroused I was getting. Or Emily, come to that.

I pushed his head forward and started low on his neck, shearing away the hair that grew in whorls. He didn’t have a particularly hairy neck and I decided to leave him with a natural hairline rather than square or round it off.

Emily moved behind me, watching silently as the long passes of my clippers reduced Simon’s glossy hair to stubble. This was always an erotic moment for me – half a head clipped, knowing the rest had to go. The victim always looked so vulnerable; unable to run away for fear of looking foolish, captive without bind, unable to flee the inexorable, the inevitable; feeling his or her hair get clipped to cruel shortness.

There, the back was done. Only one side left to go, with Simon currently looking like a leftover from an 80s rock video, one or two locks falling over one ear. Not for long. Three superb passes from my clippers and Simons’ shearing was more or less done. Of course, there was tidying up to do, and Emily my shadow as I trimmed the hairline into neat points and did a final pass here and there to ensure all hairs were uniformly clipped.

Finally I got my neck brush out and whisked all the clippings away; unfastened the cape, set Simon free.

As expected his hands flew to his head. “Whew! That’s SHORT! How does it look?”

Emily was looking at her boss with new eyes. Not surprising, he looked younger and almost handsome in a cheeky-chops sort of way. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of lust in her gesture as she reached over and rubbed his head softly. “Ooh, Simon! You look great!” Simon closed his eyes in pleasure as she stroked his head all over.

Encouraged, Simon dashed off to the gents’ to check his new cut out; he was gone ages. We heard happy whistling as he returned, always a good sign. “Perfect, Ella! I almost didn’t recognise myself – thought there was some new young exec from downstairs at the urinals!” He held my shoulders and kissed me on each cheek. “That was quite an experience,” he murmured. I had a hunch he’d wanked himself off in the gents’.

After that packing boxes seemed a very mundane task. Emily’s eyes were constantly flying to me and Simon as we sorted files and stationery. I could feel her gazing at my hair. Once or twice I caught her speculative gaze at Simon’s clippings still lying on the floor; we’d Hoover them up when we’d finished everything else.

“Lunchtime,” Simon finally announced when we’d finished packing Emily’s stuff and most of my old stuff. “Lunch is on me. What about I go and get some curries?”

For all Dorminster’s faults, it boasted a seriously good Indian restaurant. Emily and I agreed in a trice. “And don’t forget extra pappadoms,” I said. “The ones with the spices in them.”

When he’d trotted out the door, Emily said: “I can’t get over Simon’s hair. What you did to it. He looks so different! And your hair. Does it hurt, or pull, having your hair cut with clippers?”

Aha, I thought. “Not at all. It’s rather pleasant, actually. It tickles a bit and you get a sort of throbbing against your head.” I was silent for a moment, watching her watching Simon’s hair on the floor. “It’s hard to describe. The only way is to try it for yourself.”

Wordlessly Emily walked over to my haircutting set and looked at the attachments. “This one, a number four, what does it do?”

“Cuts hair to half an inch long,” I said, biting back a smile and the urge to say “a tapdance”.

“Ella.watching you cut Simon’s hair.that was one of the most erotic things I’ve seen,” she said, blushing. “I’ve never seen a man get his hair all cut off like that; never seen anyone get their hair cut with clippers.” My, I thought, you HAVE lived a sheltered life! “The way Simon was leaning his head this way and that as you were cutting, his eyes closed, like he was in another world, and the look on your face – like you were really enjoying it, getting turned on by it. Were you?”

Oh, shit. “Well, Em, actually.yes. It’s a weird thing I discovered about myself years ago. That’s one of the reasons I cut Josh’s hair. It’s a turnon. For both of us really.”

“Would it-” Emily gulped and turned an even brighter shade of red. “Would it turn you on to cut my hair?”

Shit yes! I thought. All those lovely bubbly curls, falling to the ground! But I had to be diplomatic; never scare the victim off. “Well, it might,” I said evasively.

“Because it would turn me on if you did,” Emily said boldly, her eyes wide like a startled deer at her own bravery.

My heart thudded. Those thick, thick curls! “Em, you’d look ravishing with short hair. You’ve got such delicate features. They’re overwhelmed by your hair. You look good when you tie it back really tightly, which kind of looks like you’ve got all cut off from a distance anyway.”

Without a word, Emily handed me the clippers and sat in the chair. “Are you going to cape me?” She smiled shyly.

Gently, I did, shaking her russet hair over the cape. I considered the clippers. A number eight through the top, I thought, tapering down through a four to perhaps a two at the hairline. A boy’s haircut that would look undoubtedly feminine. I slipped the number eight guard onto the blades.

Emily tousled her lovely hair for the last time, pulling a curl straight. Heavens, it was long! It stretched down past her breasts. She took a deep breath. “Okay, barber Ella. Take it all off.”

Music to my ears!

Tenderly I switched the clippers on and approached Emily’s forehead. Her eyes were wide, watching the blades come closer and closer. She was almost crosseyed when they finally bit into her hair.

Her thick locks were hard work, but my clippers were up to it. Hair tumbled down her back after the first pass, which left an inch long path of hair standing up straight in, it seemed, shock.

“How did that feel?”

Emily’s eyes were closed now. “Weird. Nice.” Her mouth was open slightly; she was concentrating on sensations. How I knew that well!

Again and again I clipped the top of her head, watching the silky curls drop to the floor, coiled snakes, Medusa hair. Emily was almost moaning as I ran my fingers through the hair that was left. It had a slight curl; it would look great with some product through it.

I pushed her head to one side and began to shear the hair in front of her ears. Emily shuddered as the clippers howled in her ear, chewing her hair off. It was still miles too long for my liking at the side, but we’d soon fix that!

Emily’s lap started to fill up with masses of dark red curls as I clipped both sides of her head, taking extra care around her shell like, pale pink ears. She didn’t say a word, just sighed occasionally, or moaned when I put a firm hand on top of her head and guided it in the direction I wanted it.

Emily, I decided, was enjoying her haircut just as much as I was. Time to milk it a little. “Put your head down,” I whispered, pushing it forward. “It makes it easier to cut off aaaalllll the hair at the back.” I lifted up a handful of the long curls left at her nape and let them flop. Emily wriggled in the chair.

“Don’t move, Emily,” I whispered. “Or the cut won’t be even.” Surveying her head, I plunged the clippers into her nape and went straight up the middle of the back, all the way to her crown, and, for good measure, down over the top to her forehead. The acres of hair caught in the guards tumbled down in front of her eyes and landed with a slither.

Oh, her hairline was poetry! I could see it already as I sheared the rest of her locks. Even with an inch left I could see how stunning she’d look with it tapered close.

There.all the long hair was gone now. On the floor.

“Not finished yet,” I murmured in Emily’s left ear as she began to move. “I’m going to cut the sides and back shorter.” I ran my hands up into her hair and all over her head, and she pushed her head ag
ainst my hands.

“That feels wonderful,” Emily moaned.

“It’ll be even better when I’m done,” I promised, picking up the clippers again and slotting the number four on. “Nice and short.”

This time I started at her nape, watching delightedly as her hair was reduced to a shorter, better length. I clipped up to her occipital bone, noticing the beautiful shape of her skull. This was a woman born for short hair.or even baldness.but I didn’t let myself go there! That was dangerous territory indeed; I was wet enough just cutting her hair short.

Carefully I clipped around her ears, taking the clippers up to about an inch above them. Little half inch clippings fell about us, on Emily’s face, on my clothes. The cut hair lay smoothly against her skin, long enough still to shine and glimmer a beautiful dark red.

Without turning the clippers off, I switched guards to a number two and homed in again on her nape.

“Head forward again,” I said, and Emily dropped her head almost to her chest, sighing happily.

Slowly, delicately, I began to taper the hair at her hairline, shearing it so short her white scalp showed through despite its thickness. That poetic hairline took on a life of its own, a wave shape that drifted across the base of her skull.

Oh, to push the number two higher and higher, all over her head! But not yet, not this time. I satisfied myself with tapering an inch or so up her hair, then straightened her head.

“Time to blend a bit,” I said, turning the clippers off and picking up my scissors and comb.

Emily’s pupils had grown huge with desire as I ran the comb up the side of her head and began to snip away where the sides and top melded. I wanted this to be perfect – and God only knew when Simon would be back with the curry! So I worked as quickly and perfectly as I could, moving around her head, snipping, snipping, cutting her sideburns into sharp points, ruffling her hair, and combing and cutting again until, five minutes later, I was satisfied her haircut was complete.

“There, it’s done,” I said finally, dusting off Emily’s naked, long neck and feeling a strange urge to kiss her, right in the middle of the nape.

I uncaped her; her legs were trembling, and so were her hands as she reached up to caress her newly mown hair.

“Ooh, Ella! Oh, the back! It’s shaved! It’s – quick, let me look at it!” Her legs almost buckled as she got up and staggered out the door towards the ladies’.

Amused, I followed her, and found her gazing at her reflection in a way that would have done Narcissus proud, turning her head this way and that.

She DID look beautiful.

“Oh, Ella! Thank you! Thank you! It’s wonderful!” Emily flung her arms around me and hugged me, then kissed me. On the mouth.

Now I’m a woman of interesting tastes. I get my kicks shaving peoples’ heads, for instance. One thing I’ve never got involved in is same sex attraction; it’s never come up in my life, and I’ve never sought it or really given it more than just a passing glance.

But when Emily’s hands crept up my back to touch my own clipped locks, and I, in return, couldn’t stop from running butterfly fingertips up the back of her head, with her soft lips on mine, I felt I’d opened a door into another room.

What was in the room I didn’t really know; whether I wanted to walk over the threshold I didn’t know either, but standing in the doorway being kissed with a lot of enthusiasm by a ravishing girl with newly cropped hair was certainly – intriguing. And I didn’t walk away.

In fact, after a moment, I started kissing her back, tugging her lips tenderly with my teeth until I felt her pelvis thrust against me. Our faces were covered in hair clippings my big neck brush had missed. I think we were eating them as well.

Numbly I backed against the door to the toilets and locked us in, my hands returning to Emily’s head and then stroking down her slim, toned body.

Wordlessly we undid each other’s clothing, she fumbling with the buttons on my jeans, me tugging her boring knee-length skirt loose and freeing those astonishingly long legs. I pulled my own t shirt off, flicked my bra loose and then opened the buttons on her shirt one by one, admiring her small, pert breasts nestling inside her bra.

I smelt my own excitement, and hers too.

Emily’s tongue found mine eagerly, her mouth hot and firm. Our bodies ground against each other; my arousal was almost painful as I stroked her hair and grabbed a handful of the longer hair left on top of her head. Emily groaned and moaned. “Ella..Ella..”

Her lips left mine and she crouched in front of me. Of their own accord my legs spread open and Emily’s fingers slid between them, rubbing against my clitoris and then up into my vagina, strong and hard.

Her head was bowed and her neck, her shaved neck with the skin showing through her hair, looked so beautiful and desirable. Bucking against her fingers, I came almost immediately, feeling sweat prickle my shorn scalp and my body fill with an indescribable shuddering warmth. There are orgasms and orgasms. This one was a world beater.

I could barely breathe, and Emily was gasping too. “Now me,” she commanded, rubbing her head all the way up me from my close cropped pubic hair to my chin, where I licked her neck and nibbled at her buzzed nape and nearly made her scream in passion.

Hesitantly I put my hand between her legs; she was dripping, aching for it. Feeling my fingers there she thrust her body against them, urging me to push them up inside the slippery canal. I twisted my fingers together and obliged her. We were almost bent double, me licking her bare neck and biting her hair as I fucked her hard with my fingers. With a muffled scream, she jerked in my arms again and again until she finally sat on the floor, panting and sated.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “Oh Ella..I’m so sorry.I’ve never done that before. I never knew I was like that. Or you.” Not only sated, but embarrassed.

“Um, actually, I’m hetero as far as I know. That’s a first for me as well,” I said, feeling awkward too. The first time I’ve been unfaithful to Josh, I thought, and it’s with a woman. Does that make it less of a bad thing?

“It was just.your haircut. and the haircut you gave me. It was such a turnon.watching Simon.having my own hair cut off.” Emily hung her head.

I knelt beside her and ruffled her hair. “Don’t be ashamed of it,” I said, even though I was feeling ashamed of my own actions, me being married and all. “It happened, and it was wonderful. You’ve got a hair fetish – like I have. That was the driving factor behind us both having terrific orgasms. Best thing for you will be moving to a big city, you’re bound to find someone to share it with.”

Emily gave me a shy smile, and then a hug. A normal, girly hug between two old workmates. That we were naked on the floor of the loo with cropped heads probably wasn’t really an issue!

“Come on, Em. We’d better get dressed. Simon’ll be back soon with lunch.”

“Simon!” Emily squawked and touched her hair. “Oh God, what will he say?”

As it happened, he said nothing. He just let the two carrier bags of curry drop from stunned fingers onto the carpet, his mouth a wide “O” of surprise.

When he found his voice, it was squeaky with shock. “Emily! Holy shit, girl!” He cleared his throat. “You look dynamite!”

He glanced from her to me. “Ella, you cut her hair?”

I nodded.

“Looks like you’ve got a new career in front of you, then. Em looks gorgeous. She’ll knock `em dead in Brum. If I let her out of my sight.”

Emily and Simon gazed at each other. I could almost see the sparks flying between them and feel the electricity in the air. If the room crumbled around them, they wouldn’t notice.

I busied myself unpacking the curry. When I’d finished, they were in a clinch that certainly wouldn’t be allowed in the new firm’s offices, their hands over each other’s heads, tickling and caressing newly shorn hair.

“Ahem,” I said, “Lunch
is ready. I’m having ALL the poppadums. Every one of them. And the vindaloo. Simon’s favourite, vindaloo. All mine.”

They didn’t pay any attention. I think Simon’s tongue was too far down Emily’s throat to reply.

“Er, and if you want a touchup haircut, you both know where I live. Any time.” I crunched a poppadum and helped myself to the rice.

* * *

I told Josh about my morning’s activities, leaving out the astonishing, almost unbelievable now, scene between myself and Emily in the ladies’ loos. No woman tells her husband EVERYTHING.

“You HAVE had a fun day. Maybe you should have cut your hair ages ago,” Josh said. “It’s a shame they’re both moving on next week; otherwise you could have been given them trims or, you know, shaving their heads or something.”

Josh rubbed his own shorn hair. From the grin on his face I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d be caping him up and shaving it off completely again. I poured us a glass of Chilean red and was about to take a sip when the doorbell rang.

“Blast. You stay there, darling, I’ll get it.” I hurried to the front door.

Emily stood there, in tight jeans and t-shirt not unlike mine. “You know how you said about a touchup haircut,” she began.

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