HairSnip.com

Whoever it was who said that you don't know what you've got until you lose it was one hundred per cent correct. I tried to think back to when I had been without a car and couldn't. And now, thanks to some mechanical thingamajig breaking or leaking or something, I was at the mercy of public transport. It would be a week or more before I could finish work when I wanted to, go to the shops when I wanted to or anything like that. Public transport is all very well, but it wasn't for me. I liked to have my music on, have room to put my bag and whatever else I needed, just to be alone. Now I was having to try to get up to speed with public transport etiquette in addition to finding out which bus went where and when it went. I had failed so far on the etiquette side, realising all too slowly that downstairs at the front was the preserve of screaming kids with sticky fingers and that upstairs was the preserve of the lecherous adolescent. As for eye contact, that was a definite no-no!

Ashley at work had offered to run me home on the first evening, but I knew that I lived just about as far out of her way as it was possible to get. It was my car that had died, it was something that I was going to have to deal with on my own and just hope that the garage got me back on my own wheels as soon as possible. I really didn't want to go to the expense of hiring a car, but if it went into a second week, I knew that I was going to be sorely tempted.

By the third evening I was resigned to my new status as a carless person and had decided to look for the positives in my situation. Not having to concentrate on the road and not having to anticipate the moves of sundry idiots who shouldn't be behind the wheel of a moving vehicle meant that I was free to take in my surroundings; free to look in the windows of shops that I always knew were there, but had never actually spent any time to see what it was that they sold. I could just stare out of the window and watch the world go harmlessly by. Perhaps my new status wasn't as bad as I had thought. Not that I wished to prolong it for a moment longer than necessary, that is!

I was fortunate that the bus stop closest to work was at a parade of shops, so I could wander up and down looking in their windows whilst I waited for the bus to come. There was nothing remarkable there, but it helped to pass the time. There was a newsagent, a rather smart kitchen showroom, a couple of upmarket ladies clothes shops, a hairdresser's, a Chinese restaurant, the usual conglomeration. 

The first shop that I went into was one of the clothes shops, although I had one eye on my watch to make sure that I didn't miss my bus. There were certainly things in there that would make a more leisurely visit worthwhile, perhaps even when I had my car back. I put a dress back on the rack and gathered my bags up, heading for the door. I closed the door gently behind me and walked towards the bus stop, glancing in the windows of the other shops as I went. I could see a bus approaching and quickened my step to take my place in the queue. As I went past the hairdresser's, I caught a glimpse of one of the stylists standing at reception talking to somebody. If it hadn't been for the obvious curves of a feminine backside under her tunic, I would have thought that I was looking at a man, her hair was that short. My attention was drawn away by my overwhelming desire to get on the bus and to get home, but I thought I would take a seat at the window if I could, just in case I could see her from the front.

I didn't know why I should have been so interested and certainly did not know why I should have been so disappointed when there were no seats free on that side. Never mind. I took my seat and tried to get into a more meditative frame of mind so that the journey would not seem as long and I could convince myself that I wasn't on a bus surrounded by lots of people. 

I wedged my elbow against the ledge and rested my head on my hand, brushing my hair out of the way instinctively. My thoughts turned to my last visit to my regular hairdresser. I went every couple of months or so to keep the ends tidy and to have the colour freshened up, always to the same place and always to the same stylist. I had been going to John for so long that we barely talked about my hair, we talked about families, friends, films and he just got on with whatever he did. I was used to seeing myself as a forty-three year-old with dark brown hair brushing my shoulders and that is how I went out into the world every time I left an appointment with John. It was all part of an image of a middle manager, groomed, tidy, in control. By the time I got to my stop I was focussing more on the 'forty-three year-old' bit and thinking that I really ought to get out a bit more and pay a bit less attention to work. My mother's voice had been going through my head telling me yet again to find myself a man and to settle down before it was too late and try as I might to get rid of it, it was still there as I walked up the road to my house.

The house was in darkness and made me feel mellow as I thought about what it should have been like, what it had been like until I split up with Brian almost four months ago. Then there would be lights on when I got home, warmth when I opened the door, but I knew that when I turned the key tonight, there would be none of that. Just a few files spread out on the dining table and more work before bed.

The following day I got caught up in a meeting that overran and I had to grab my things and rush out of the door to get my bus. I hurried down the street, heels clacking on the pavement as I went. I looked at my watch. Two minutes to go. I could see the bus-stop, but I needed to pick the pace up. I started to walk more quickly for a few paces and then slowed. What was I running for? There would be another one shortly, so there was no point breaking a heel or going over on my ankle. Besides, what did I need to get home so quickly for? I was about a hundred yards away when I saw my bus. Even if I had picked up the pace I don't think that I would have made it and there is nothing more embarrassing that running for a bus only to see it pull away as you get to within a few yards. Well, there is, but you know what I mean.

I looked at the timetable on the empty bus-shelter to check for my next bus and my suspicion that it would be another 30 minutes was confirmed. That was when public transport sucked. I was there, I wanted to go home. Why was there nothing to get me there when I wanted to go? I was tempted to call the garage to see whether they could give me an update as to when I could expect my car back, but ringing a garage when you have just missed your bus is probably not ideal. I decided that I could put in 25 minutes in the two dress shops, but the question was whether I could manage to get out again without doing serious damage to my credit card. It would all add to the cost of my car repairs.

I headed for the nearest dress shop, the one I hadn't been in yet, whilst cursing the idiot who had asked that last question at the meeting. If he hadn't asked such an irrelevant question I would have made the bus comfortably. I was almost at the door when I paused slightly and veered off towards the other dress shop. It occurred to me that I could look in the salon window as I went past and see if I could get a better look at the stylist that I saw yesterday. I was turning into a stalker! I looked in as I went past, but there was no sign of her. I carried on walking, but after a few more steps I turned on my heel.

I was telling myself that it was about time that I made an appointment to see John, just as I was opening the door to my new-found salon. I hadn't intended to go in and I even had a note on my calendar to ring John this week, but it just seemed the obvious thing to do. I decided that I could ask about an appointment, perhaps catch a glimpse of the intriguing stylist and then ring up and cancel. No harm done, but curiosity satisfied.

'Good evening' the receptionist said, surprising me for some reason with her educated tone.

'Hi' I replied, slightly flustered. 'A friend of mine recommended one of your stylists to me, but I can't for the life of me remember what she said her name is. She's got very short hair, apparently. Blonde, if that helps' I said, astounding myself with how simple I sounded.

'Oh, that would be Ginny' she replied.

'Ginny! That's it!' I replied.

'When would it be for?' she asked.

'One evening, round about this time, if you could' I said, trying to sound reasonable vague.

'She's free now, if that suits' she said, not offering any alternative dates. Obviously well-trained, trying to fill empty slots to maximise income. She was looking at me, intimating that she was waiting for an answer. 

What was I going to say? What about John? Would he be able to tell if I had had my hair cut recently by the time I saw him? Should I skip him this time? Should I just make up a story? What was I worrying about him for? I was standing in reception of a hairdressing salon, trying the patience of a young woman just because I had caught a glimpse of one of their staff. What was I doing? What was I going to do?

'Now would be fine' I said, trying to regain my composure.

'Great, let me take your coat and if you'd like to take a seat, I'll tell Ginny that you're here' she said, coming out from behind the desk. She took my coat and disappeared up a flight of open stairs, her shoes beating a steady rhythm as she ascended. I was alone and looked around me, trying to look into the salon area itself to see what I might be letting myself in for.

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, more than one person was coming down. I sensed the receptionist return to her station, but was distracted by the approach of the second person. I turned my head towards her and got my first sight from the front. She was not overly tall, about 5'6" or so, slightly shorter than me. She had a good figure and strong hips as I had seen through the window last night. However, all other physical features paled into insignificance when the eye was drawn to her hair. I had no idea where my intense interest in another woman's hair came from, but it was there now.

'Hi!' she said cheerily.

'Hi' I replied, slightly less cheerily!

'Angie tells me that a friend recommended me?' she said in such a way that she was expecting me to volunteer the name of her client. She sat down next to me.

I should have seen it coming. Of course she would want to know who was referring friends to her. She would want to thank them next time they were in. I paused, wondering how to get out of the trap that I had laid for myself.

'I wasn't exactly telling the truth' I said, blushing slightly. She looked at me. I wondered how truthful I was going to be now.

'It wasn't a recommendation. I saw you through the window and I liked your hair. It just looked so striking. I made that up about a referral, I'm sorry' I said, feeling more than a little silly for my pretence.

'Don't worry, I'm not particular about how I get clients!' she said with a laugh. I was grateful to her for relieving the tension.

I told her that my name was Deborah, trying to get back on safe ground to start again..

'So, tell me, Deborah, what were you thinking of doing?' she asked.

'I don't know. I saw you last night and I was just thinking on the way home about how I go to the same hairdresser every time and we never talk about doing anything different. I don't even consider it and I started to think that maybe I should.'

She nodded as I spoke and then asked me to tell her a little about myself and my lifestyle. I gave her the brief version, job, image important, no romantic interest at the moment, aerobics and swimming when I can, but no other sport.

'Okay' she said, drawing the syllables out. 'Let's ignore everybody else. What would you do if you told yourself that nobody else's opinion matters. What would you do if you were going to a desert island for 6 months?'

That was an interesting way to approach the situation, I thought. I started to draw up a list of whose opinion actually mattered to me, before realising that it would be a very short list indeed. Work would care if I did something outrageous like getting facial piercings, but would they really care about my haircut?

'If I didn't have to consider anyone?' I asked, abandoning my list-making. She nodded.

'Cut it off, I suppose' I said, surprising myself.

'So why don't you?'

'It's like I said. I go to the same guy every couple of months. We  have a chat about stuff and he charges me for doing my hair.'

'And he never asks you what you would like to do?'

I shook my head.

'I think he should be your ex-hairdresser, don't you?'

'You're probably right' I said

'Shall we go through?' she said, the discussion about what to do with my hair apparently over.

I followed her through to the salon, torn between looking at my surroundings and examining her haircut as she led the way. I still couldn't get over just how short it was, while still being ultra feminine and sexy in a strange way. She stopped by a styling station on the side of the salon with no clients. I stole a glance at the other occupied station where nothing out of the ordinary was going on. A bob that was just being finished off. Nothing to hold my attention when I had Ginny to look at and admire.

I sat down in the chair and tucked my arms in as she draped a cape over me. This was much lower key than the showy way that John held out a gown for me to slide my arms into before cocooning me in it. Ginny was all business, very understated and pre-occupied with the task at hand. I actually liked that she was concentrating on what she was going to do, thinking about what she was doing rather than thinking of the next question to probe into my private life the way that John does. Another point in her favour and definitely the final nail in the coffin of my status as a customer at John's salon.

Ginny brushed my hair through, keeping her thoughts to herself, looking at me in the mirror in between looking down at what she was doing. She moved across and put the brush down before picking up a set of hair clippers. We hadn't discussed styles, I hadn't actually decided what I wanted to do, how short I wanted to go, I just knew that I wanted something different. Was I adventurous enough to go for something really short?

I waited for Ginny to finish her preparation with her implements so that she could help me come to a decision. I knew that I would look good with shorter hair, I had been a good inch or two shorter than it was now, round about chin length on the one occasion when John had been ill and one of his other more enthusiastic staff had stepped in for him. I had quite liked it, but the next time that I went back to John, he took me back to 'his' length and I didn't have the heart to ask him to go a bit shorter. 

Ginny took her place behind me to start the discussion, or so I thought, although the only sound that I heard was what must have been the clippers being turned on. Just testing, obviously. Still without saying anything, Ginny moved the hair at the nape of my neck gently to one side. I have always had straggly bits there, and she was obviously assessing the extent of them and whether there would be any implications for the style that she had in mind. She knew best, so who was I to object when she touched the clippers to my skin. John never bothered to clean up those bits as they were always covered by the bulk of my hair, so this was the first real sign that I was going to go so short that my neck would be on show. I was happy with that.

I was aware of movement behind me somewhere which signalled the other client leaving. Now it was just me and Ginny.

I could feel the clippers move. There was no resistance from the small amount of hair that was there at my nape, but I was slightly surprised that the straggly bits went as high as the clippers felt. After a few moments, Ginny turned the clippers off, the right side finished to her satisfaction.

'Have a feel of that and see what you think' she said, her first words since we had come through to the salon.

I worked my arm out from under the cape and reached up to the back of my neck. It would be interesting to feel my neck without those straggly bits and I thought it was good of her to give me the chance to see what she had done, especially since we hadn't talked through what she was going for. The clippers hadn't done their job as thoroughly as I had expected, because where I had expected just skin, there was stubble, a quarter of an inch or so. I was just about to tell her that she still had some work to do when I moved my fingers slightly higher so that they were behind my ear. A shudder went through me as I realised that there had been no change in the length of stubble and that I now had a patch of very short hair on one side of the back of my head, although it would only be visible if the rest of my hair were moved aside.

'That's some sort of undercut, is it?' I asked, not really knowing what to say and certainly not knowing how to react to the fluttering in my stomach as I moved my fingers lightly over the stubble.

'Call it a taster' she said cryptically.

'For what?'

'That depends on you' she replied.

I had one last stroke before I drew my arm back in under the cape.

I looked up at her.

'Do you mean do it that short higher up the back?' I asked, puzzled by her apparent reluctance to explain what she was planning. I started to wonder about the effect that an undercut would have. My little secret as I walked about, visible to only those that I chose to reveal it to.

Her reply was to place the clippers in front of my ear and to turn them on. I had seen pictures of women with undercuts and even one with the hair on one side of her head cut really short, the other a more normal length.

'What do you think John would say if I do that all over' she said with a smile, clippers vibrating, but stationary.

'You're not though, are you?'

'Think about what brought you in here. You saw something you liked' she said.

'I couldn't' I replied, thinking back to that first tantalising glimpse of the back of her head.

'What's stopping you?' she asked.

'Me, I suppose' I replied.

'Is that all?' she asked.

The clippers moved upwards a fraction. I closed my eyes but said nothing. I tried to imagine myself without my brown hair brushing my cheeks as I walked. I could feel them move another fraction of an inch. We weren't at the point of no return as far as I could see, so she was giving me every opportunity to change my mind, but was that what I wanted?

'Be quick' I said quietly.

I think that this actually surprised her, as for a second, she didn't react. Then I watched in the mirror as her hand guided the clippers up the side of my head. The tress at my sideburn fell away as the clippers moved high up the side of my head. I could see dark stubble, slightly darker than the hair that had been severed. Contact between the clippers and my scalp was lost for a moment as Ginny lifted them only to replace them at my forehead. There was no hesitation as she took me at my word. They moved backwards across the top of my head, again and again as I watched in wonder. It was almost as if it wasn't me sitting there being shorn. The fluttering in my stomach was increasing as the hair on my had got less and less. I tried to tell myself that it was just nerves, but it wasn't that sort of fluttering. It was excitement and the sort of excitement that is usually the precursor to something else. I tried to tell myself not to be so stupid, but there was no doubt in my mind. I was turned on by having my hair cut off. This wasn't the hum-drum, "may-as-well-not-be-happening" experience of having my hair cut by John, this was a genuine gusset dampener.

By the time I had analysed the situation and returned to the world of the salon and Ginny, most of my hair was lying in my lap and on the floor around me. I had a pelt of about a quarter of an inch all over my head. It looked so strange not to see hair framing my face, but it was exciting too. This was more fun than I had had in ages and certainly more fun than anything induced by my battery-powered companions in recent times!

Ginny switched the clippers off and turned my chair towards her so that she could look at me directly without using the mirror.

'What do you think so far?' she asked.

My hand came out from under the cape again. I just had to feel it.

'It's so weird!' was the best comment that I could come up with as I was distracted by another deep-seated tremor.

'Do you want to go shorter?' she asked, rubbing her hand gently over my scalp.

'Shorter?' I exclaimed, looking up at her, once again astounded at how good she looked with her own hair so short. She nodded.

'Are you thinking of doing it the same as yours?' I asked, my eyes still on the 'barely there' hair at the sides of her head.

'Sort of' she said, raising the clippers again. 

I was so far out of my personal experience that there was little point giving her suggestion much thought. How could I make a proper assessment of her suggestion in the way that I would in my comfortable working environment. There, I would consider the pros and cons, look at the benefits and drawbacks and make a decision based on that. None of that counted for anything while I was in Ginny's world.

'Whatever you think' I said after a moment. It was the only answer that made sense to me at that moment. I only hoped that I could remember the feeling that ran through me as I said it.

I was still turned towards Ginny and was able to watch as she took the plastic guard off the clippers in preparation for fitting a different one, one that would let her take me shorter. What was I letting myself in for? Clippers in her right hand, she turned my chair back to the mirror with her left. I had been trying to concentrate on what she was doing so that I could remember as much of the experience as possible. I wanted to enjoy it again and again at leisure, if you know what I mean! For that reason I was well aware that she hadn't yet put another guard on the clippers. She was just trying to do two things at once: position me and get the clippers ready. She just hadn't got as far as putting another guard on the clippers. I watched her intently in the mirror. She looked at me and then she looked down at the clippers. She looked at me again and raised the clippers. In other circumstances, I would claim the sensation that I felt at that moment as a mini-climax, but since I was in a public place, I would be too polite to call it that. But that is what it was!

I wanted to close my eyes and I wanted to watch. I decided to watch as she placed the clippers at my temple. She turned her head towards the mirror and looked me in the eye as she moved the clippers slowly upwards. I was amazed at her confidence, both with the clippers and as a person. She looked back towards what she was doing and I fixed my gaze on the patch of skin that she had just revealed at my temple. She touched her fingers to it, with the resulting tingles that you would expect.

'I bet you've never thought of your head as an erogenous zone, have you?' she said.

'Is it that obvious?' I asked, blushing.

'Personal experience' she replied.

'You've done yours?'

'To be honest, the only reason that I let my hair grow is so that I can shave it off again. The whole experience is so amazing. I thought that's why you had asked for me, because you wanted to do it.'

'It had never crossed my mind. Not consciously anyway. I just saw you and was fascinated, but I'm so glad that I came in' I said, my eyes still on the clippers. I was willing them to move. Her fingers stroked me more deliberately this time, just brushing the skin. Small circles, the gentlest of touches.

The clippers moved upwards, the blades following the contours of my scalp as they moved to the top of my head. It was too late now, whatever happened I was going to be leaving the salon bald. I would worry about that later, if indeed it did turn out to be a worry. Why shouldn't I shave my head if I wanted to? Was that what I wanted all along? That was one for later; for the present I just wanted to watch Ginny's deft strokes remove the last traces of hair from my head.

The clippers fell silent again, their work completed. I just wanted to touch my head, to feel what Ginny had felt. I started to reach from under the cape, but Ginny's hand on my shoulder halted its progress.

'When I'm finished' she said firmly. That was me told!

I sat there as she spread shaving cream over my head. Her favourite part, she told me. The tingles I felt only a few moments ago were intensified as her fingers slid around my scalp. I wondered how I was going to last without really disgracing myself in public. She was playing with me, teasing me, I was sure. Finally she stopped stroking me and picked up a razor. Her fingers explored the path that the blade had just taken, the feel of steel quickly followed by the lightest touch. I had to close my eyes now.

The feel of a towel on my head was my signal to open my eyes again. I looked at her in the mirror and could see her beaming, waiting for my reaction.

'Now you can touch' she said.

I reached up and touched my scalp, tentatively at first, but then more confidently. I had both hands to my head, circling, enjoying.

'Thank you' I said, looking up at her.

She paused for a moment locking my gaze.

'If you're that grateful, you could always buy me a drink' she said.

'Is that you done for the day?' I asked, trying to gain a little thinking time. What was happening here? Was I reading too much into the situation?

She smiled at my hesitation and told me to think about it while she went to get her coat. While I waited, I just stared into the mirror, amazed at how I looked, amazed at what I had done.I had no idea when the next bus would be now, had nothing better to do and by the time she came back had decided that a glass of wine and a chat might be just what I needed. 

'Are you going to admire yourself all night?' Ginny said, surprising me from my self-absorption.

'Sorry, I'm ready' I said, slightly flustered.

'Come on then' she urged, leading the way to the door. I paused only to pay the girl at reception, declining Ginny's offer of a freebie as I was a new customer. Her car was parked across the road and as we waited for a break in the traffic, I stole a sly glance at her, trying to imagine her without that light covering of stubble.

I climbed into the passenger seat, hoping that we weren't going to go too far from my bus route. Ginny didn't turn the engine on right away. 

'I hope you won't take this the wrong way' she said turning to me.

'What?' I asked, wondering what it could possibly be.

She leant in and kissed me on the lips before pulling back to look at me. I looked at her, slightly taken aback. She moved closer again.

'Wait' I said, holding a hand towards her. Thoughts tumbled through my mind: images from yesterday, looking through the window at an unknown figure, seeing her 

close-up, wanting my hair cut like hers, but not knowing that that was what I wanted, getting turned on by the whole process. My thoughts slowed down. I looked at her again.

'I'm sorry, Ginny' I said.

Disappointment crossed her face.

'I'm strictly a man's woman' I said. She shrugged slightly.

'I could no more sleep with a woman than I could shave my head' I said with a smile, putting a hand on her knee. Her expression changed.

We decided to forget about the drink and to go back to her flat so that we could be comfortable rather than necking in the car like a pair of teenagers. She had a lovely apartment, very feminine, very cosy. I thought about my own house and how I could never just bring somebody back without apologising for the state of it, but here it was pristine.

Ginny led me into the kitchen and left me to open a bottle of wine, saying that she would be back shortly. I put my coat over a chair and looked around me as the sound of a bath being run came from down the hall. She came back into the kitchen and beckoned me to follow her, nodding at the wine as an indication that I should bring that too. The sound of running water grew louder and then I was standing in a surprisingly large bathroom, where an ornate Victorian bath was filling up.

'Make yourself comfortable' she said, nodding towards the bath. She had unbuttoned her shirt as we had walked down the hall and was now undoing her skirt. The everyday Deborah would have averted her eyes, but newly-bald Deborah was now curious about so much. I started to take my clothes off, but my eyes took in every detail of Ginny's body. She was clearly no stranger to physical exercise, although not overly muscled. Her stomach was taught without being 'six packy', her breasts firm, her pubes trimmed to the narrowest of landing strips.

I climbed into the bath and sank under the water, eager to feel the water running off my head. I surfaced and saw Ginny smiling at me. Naked. Sexy. I was really unsure as to why I was so looking forward to what was about to happen, after all it hadn't been that long since I had been with a man. Ginny opened the bathroom cabinet and took out a set of hairclippers. She looked at me.

'Say the word and it's gone' she said.

'I'd rather have you in here at the moment' I replied.

She put the clippers down and climbed into the bath, her legs intertwining with mine. I leaned forward to embark on my journey of discovery, but then allowed myself to be eased back instead as Ginny tutored me in what could be done with just a tongue. Without going into too much detail about that evening, I learned that unless she is very lucky with her choice of man, a girl should only allow another woman to perform oral sex on her. I've had a few men gamely give it a go and whilst it hasn't been unwelcome or unpleasurable, it has never had me squealing and gasping the way that Ginny did that night. The other benefit of being with a woman is that you can borrow fresh clothes to go straight in to work in the event of a sleepover, as by the time our exertions came to an end, there was no point going home.

I woke up in the morning and was slightly disorientated by the unfamiliar surroundings at first. I was alone although I could hear sounds in the kitchen. I got up and looked in the dressing table mirror, immediately realising the benefit of a shaved head. I padded naked along the hall and found Ginny setting breakfast things on the table.

'I don't know what you like, I hope there's something here that will do' she said.

'Lovely' I replied.

We found some clothes that I could borrow and Ginny very kindly ran me to work. Before I got out of the car, she asked for my mobile number which I happily gave to her. I wasn't sure if last night was a one-off or even if I wanted it to be.

The reactions from people at work were mixed. Some people commented on how brave I must be, some shied away from talking to me thinking that I must have been struck down with something terrible. A couple of people told me that it really suited me and they had no idea how pleased that made me feel. The day dragged and I found myself in meeting after meeting with no interest at all in what was being discussed. My mind was on last night and what I had been thinking to let any of it happen. What could have made me let someone shave my head? What had made me tumble into bed with another woman?

I checked my phone for messages in between meetings and quickly deleted most of them. One text didn't get deleted though.

'Thank you for a wonderful evening. Would love to do it again some time. xxx'

I pondered my response during the next meeting and at the next break I got my phone out again. I decided to keep my message brief.

'It was fun! Sorry, but I only date bald women. xxx'. 

I pressed 'Send' just as my phone rang. It was the garage. My almost-forgotten-about car was ready if I wished to take them a large pile of cash! I was so happy at the prospect of not having to wait for busses anymore and got one of the guys to give me a lift to collect it. My phone beeped on the way back although I waited until I got to the car park before digging in my bag for my phone. I looked at the screen. I smiled.

'Bald woman available whenever you're ready. xxx'. I read it over and over again. 

I rang my assistant and said that I wouldn't be coming back to the office as it probably wasn't worth it and headed home. I had a leisurely bath and then wondered what I should wear. I got dressed and put some clothes in a bag just in case I stayed overnight again. It was Friday after all. I bagged the clothes that I had borrowed from Ginny separately and then deemed myself ready. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror one last time and then rummaged in the wardrobe for the coat that I wanted to wear.

The drive over to Ginny's seemed to take forever, but wasn't more than twenty minutes. I knocked at her door and waited, wondering whether I should have rung her to tell her that I was coming. I could see movement through the peephole and then heard the security chain before the door opened. I stood back slightly and just stared at her as she stood there. Her head was smooth, just as I had hoped.

'You look beautiful' I said, reaching in to kiss her cheek.

'Not a lot to come off, but it makes a big difference' she said, reaching up to stroke my own bald head.

We moved inside and she took my bag off me and went into the bedroom to put it down. By the time she came back, I had undone the belt on my coat, but held it closed until she was facing me. I opened my coat and let her see what I was wearing.

'And what would have happened if you'd been stopped?' she asked, her eyes widening.

'I think I would have got off, don't you?' I said, smiling, as I looked down once again at the crimson corset that I was wearing. One of my black stockings had twisted slightly, but apart from that, I was rather pleased with the way I looked. 

'I know just what you need to complete that outfit' she said, taking my hand and leading me into the bedroom. 

'And what would that be?' I asked.

'My bald head. Just there' she said, running a finger slowly across the front of my tiny panties.

I was hoping she would say that!

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