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I. THE STORY OF VERONIQUE ( NICKY ).

I have got a new hairdresser. That's to say......it sounds so possessive. Maybe I should say that he has me. As a client of course. Though not with hesitation on my part. I had been so accustomed to my old hairdresser who had taken care of me during my whole life. Not that my hair needed much care. As long as I can remember I've had long hair and I go once in two or three months to the salon for a trim, shampoo and harecare. But the old man chuck it after forty years and selled his salon to a younger colleague. So out of necessity I had to choose another. But I prefer to stick to my well-known place which is the most renowned in town, the provincial town in which I live.

However, it is no longer the old salon. The new proprietor has changed the furnishing, the floor, the colours completely as well as the name which is now posted as Hairstyling and Beautysalon. The ideas of the new owner are daring and controversial in our rather conservative and small town. In his opinion the hairstyles of the women living in this place are ages behind and that has to change! As he knows that a too rigorous approach will call up too much resistance he operates carefully. Little by little they should be won for his progressive and confronting conceptions. For his creations are revolutionary, breathtaking hair styles with bizarre colour combinations. The girls which he recruited to work in his salon had to be willing to serve as eye-catchers for his views. They make up the living publicity for his Hairstyling and Beautysalon. And it works! The teenagers, like the students of secondary schools, would like to hurry to the salon but are mainly hold back by their parents who are less enthousiast. Nevertheless, one sheep follows another; it only takes one to start and others will follow. Already the cashiers of the supermarkets belong to his followers. Young female shopworkers, office and bank employees would like to follow them but their employers mostly don't think it is becoming and so they are reluctant.

In our small town he is called the punk hairdresser. This doesn't mean that he intends to provide us with mohawks, on the contrary! Your hairstyle should underline your personality, he says, and that should be judged individually.

The lot of rumours and gossips about the changes and renewals of my old salon had made me shrink back for visiting it and I had postponed my first appointment as long as possible. But once I had to bring myself to doing it.

I got acquainted with Winston, the man who from now on will take care of my hair. As I had expected he scrutinized it critically.

"Beautiful, thick and voluminous hair. And a splendid colour, this profound coppery shine. It creates many possibilities."

"Listen, I'm coming here for many years already and I have always been contented the way I've been treated. I would like to keep it like that."

"Of course, darling. Anything you want."

Teenage girls are addressed by "sweetheart" or "baby" but women of my age by "darling" or "dear". I'm still rather young but nevertheless I hope to be thirty next year.

So he trims my tresses but..........

"Do you always wear your hair like this, hanging down?"

"Yes, most times. Why?"

"Well, you see, when hair is as long as yours and it hangs loose, it pulls at the roots. In the long run it may lead to loss of hair."

"Oh! And what should I do to prevent this?"

"Oh darling, I'll tell you if you are thinking of a change. But you won't, so I don't."

He makes me curious and of course that is his intention. And somewhat worried though I did never notice that my hair has got sparser.

But the seeds of doubt have been sowed.

When I comb or brush my tresses I pay attention if there is more hair in the tools than formerly. What is formerly? At the time that I was a child or a teenager? Last year or last week? I did never mind but now it disturbs me. Every day I lose rather much hair!

Come on, Nicky, pin up your hair! My full name is Veronique but everyone calls me Nicky. I pin up my hair, in fact I've never done it before, so I'm not so skilful and again and again wisps become detached. When at one time I have everything under control with hairpins and combs, unfortunately there is a strong wind outside and my building, so meticulously constructed, collapses. Discouraged I unpin and untangle my hair entirely.

When I have shampooed my mane it sticks out and it causes me a great deal of trouble and time to shape and style it. Why does it annoy me so much of late? All those years I have considered this as an unavoidable inconvenience and did endure it cheerfully. It's becoming an obsession!

Actually the new furnishing of the salon is quite nice, much more efficient too. And Winston? A refreshing wind after the drowsy state in former days. The old fellow was a pleasant man but nothing exciting ever happened. Everything remained for years the same as it had been before. Winston changed it all. Me too? Yes, me too!

After a month I'm back.

"If I let you have your way what would you do?"

"Do you want that?"

"Yes, but........"

"But nothing, darling, you have to trust me."

I don't have a boss who could give me a dressing down because of an extravagant appearance. I am a free-lance photographer and make by order photoreports. As in our quiet small town little goes through I have to travel most of the time. Nevertheless I don't like a radical transformation. The appearance of the girls working in his salon with their glaring coloured spiky hairstyles doesn't appeal to me.

"You have not the intention to let me look like your girls, I hope."

He laughs: "No, you needn't sacrifice much of the length of your hair. I want to cut it in layers. Then it shapes by itself and is easy to handle."

I agree and while he is cutting my hair with a straight razor and I'm sitting in his chair, nervous all the same because never so much of my hair had fallen down, I tell Winston about a dream which I had recently.

"I'm sitting in your salon and complain about the fact that it costs me so much time to style my tresses. Oh, you say, I know an effective solution for that problem. Leave it to me. I see that you reach for a pair of clippers and seized with fear I'm sitting paralyzed in my chair and..........."

"I understand," Winston says laughing. "The Doomsday look."

"Doomsday?" I ask surprised. "Why is it called like that?"

"I have given it that name. The start of a war with nuclear weapons was called Doomsday. Fortunately it did never happen, otherwise it would have claimed millions of victims and everyone who had been radioactively contaminated would at least lose all of his or her hair."

"Have you ever given a woman a Doomsday look?"

"Yes," Winston answers, looking at me, "But not here. Not yet."

"Which kind of women wants it?"

"Women in large sections of the population,it is not a special kind, but mostly younger ones. Like you," he adds while a mocking smile causes his lips to curl. He looks at me in the mirror, cutting tufts of my tresses.

"How young do you think I am?"

"Well, anything like me, twentyfour, five."

It sounds like a conclusion, not a question, so I don't answer.

"If you might be interested, at home I have videotapes on which is demonstrated how I perform my creations. Among others those which I have created at hairstyling contests. I could show them to you if you like to see them."

It sounds as if he asks me to come and see his stamp collection, the well-known stereotypical invitation for sex.

"Thank you for the invitation but I would prefer if you came to my place to demonstrate them. Bring your girlfriend if you like."

"I'm through with you, styling your hair I mean," Winston says, looking inquisitively at me. "Well, what do you say?"

He is right, my hair still is long, only a little shorter but it is beautifully shaped and has more volume. I make quick movements with my head and my locks sweep to and fro but return to the point of departure.

"You have deserved your reward," I say, "You may show your vids."

"Your gentleness is really formidable, my princess."

I have a tingling sensation in my belly. I'm not able to to remember how long ago I had that experience. Ages! The time that I met......rubbish! That's over and done. I have wiped it out of my memory. From where does it come now? It started when Winston cut my hair. A unique sensation as up to now I never had it done except some trimming. Just like that I handed myself over to Winston in the confidence that he wouldn't ruin my hair.

Dont let your imagination run wild, Nicky! When I invited him and said that he could bring his girl friend he didn't give me a definite answer about this. So? So what? Wednesday night he will come. With girlfriend?

Yes indeed! He brings Marisa. I've met her once, she is a teacher at a secondary school. I don't understand his preference but tastes differ. Yes, she looks rather pretty but I think her to be boring and formally. And very meticulous, everything she does has to follow specific rules. I am precise when I'm working at my pictures indeed, but otherwise I'm rather sloppy.

Winston has two vids. During the next hour we admire a number of his creations.

"Is that Doomsday look recorded in this one?" I ask.

"Yes but I don't know exactly where. We will come across it undoubtedly."

Marisa, who hardly has spoken two words, rises suddenly: "I'm going home, I have to prepare my lessons for tomorrow."

"Shall I drive you home?" Winston asks who has got up as well.

She shakes her head: "It won't be necessary. It is not far, the weather is fair and I like to take a sniff of fresh air."

It sounds as if she thinks the air in my house to be stuffy.

When she is gone I say: "I didn''t know that Marisa is your friend."

Winston laughs: "She is rather an acquaintance than a friend. I don't have a girlfriend but you told me to bring one and I invited just someone."

"Oh my god! You don't think for all that.....?"

"'That I should take care of a chaperone?"

I feel that I blush and I have not the nerve to look at him. But he grabs my chin and lifts my head: "Are you afraid to be alone with me?"

"No, of course not but in case you should have had a girlfriend it would not have been nice not to invite her too, would it? And you didn't tell me."

"Okay, now you know. Want to see more?"

"Sure, I didn't yet see the Doomsday cut."

"I'll look it up."

He winds the tape in top gear till a gorgeous girl with shoulderlength blonde hair becomes visible. In successive sessions Winston gives her every now and then another look, of course increasingly shorter and al last all is buzzed off.

Surprised I say: "You always claim that a womans' hairdress should be in harmony with her character and underline it, as well as with the shape and expression of her face. Here you make a mess of that poor girls' hair. She was such a fine and good-looking girl and you spoilt it."

"She had to be bald and I made use of the opportunity to do some experiments with different styles."

"Why should she be bald?" I ask indignantly, "Didn't she have a say? Was she only a direct object?"

"Darling, she did want it herself, she was paid for it, you know. She had a part in a movie or a videoclip; I can't recall, in any case she had to have a shaven head. Though, I think if she hadn't got any payment, she would have done it as well. Some girls are ready to do anything if only a camera is trained on them. After all, it is no tragedy, hair grows again."

"Nevertheless, I think it is a shame, such a pretty girl with beautiful hair! Didn't you have a hard time doing such a destruction?"

"Well, she had chosen for it. And she is pretty but I like her as well without hair."

"That's your opinion but not mine!"

I still find it difficult to understand that he thinks so lightly of it.

"I know that you are hypersensitive concerning hair. You're afraid of changing anything."

"I'm not hypersensitive!" Annoyed I protest. "I think a girl should handle her hair with care but lately I allowed you to have your own way, didn't I? Or didn't it satisfy you? Would you have liked to change me more?"

"You know that I always consider the wishes of my clients."

Suddenly a bold idea arises in my mind. I'm going to challenge him!

"What would you do if I should ask you to give me the same treatment as that girl?"

Winston begins to laugh: "You would never ask that, even not if they offered you a million!"

"But suppose that I did want it."

"That's all pretending, angel, not reality. It's no use to philosophize about it."

But I won't give up: "No, I want an answer. I come to you saying: I want you to shave my head. What do you do?"

"Try to talk you out of it."

"And when I stick to it? You are not able to change my opinion?"

Winston hesitates a moment, then says: "No, I don't think I would do it."

I look at him in all seriousness: "I mean it, Winston, I really want you to shave my head."

I keep my breath, I'm playing for high stakes and I know it. If he accepts and I have to chicken out I'll make a fool of myself.

He doesn't; surprised he looks at me: "You are joking."

"No, seeing that girl losing her hair made me think. How did she feel during and after the shearing? I've got curious and want to go through the same experience. And for all that, it grows back, doesn't it?"

"Darling, this is absurd. I don't want to continue this discussion, let's talk about something else."

He switches off the video.

"Okay, tomorrow I have a photoreport in the city. I'll find a barbershop where they will do what you refuse."

Startled he tries to change my mind: "A barbershop! Oh no, don't do that, please, think about it and don't hurry things."

He begs me to have patience.

''Okay, I won't do it tomorrow. But consider your point of view. At the end of this week I want to decide."

We still drink some wine and do not more speak about the controversial subject.

When he leaves Winston says; "You should understand that I won't do it as I care for you."

"Do you really?"

"Yes, I do."

"When you really care for me......no, never mind."

Winston understands what I mean but he says: "Good night, darling. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

"Nicky, could you care somewhat for me ?"

If he would know...............but I say: "Isn't this a little fast,Winnie? I hardly know you."

"Just as long as I know you."

He hesitates and I suppose that he wants a kiss.

"You have better go now,Win. It is late and I'm tired."

"You're right. Well, have nice dreams."

"Yes, you too."

When I'm lying in bed I ask myself why I told him it to be late. I regret it. Too late now!


Thursday. In the course of the evening Winston rings up: "How have you been doing today?"

"The report you mean? I daresay it'll be alright. The usual, you know? Tomorrow I'll file it all in the memory, make adaptations if necessary and print what I might use. Actually I did just come home and I'm worn out from dragging all day long my equipment with me. I'm going to take a shower, make some food and early to bed."

"Good girl. Have a deserved rest."

"Oh, by the way, Win, I couldn't find time to look for a barber."

Silence during several seconds.

"Nicky, we had arranged........."

"Only informative, Win. In case that. But don't bother, I didn't make it."

"Oh.....I see. Well, we'll discuss that later. I'll call you."

He sounds reserved: "Have a good night."

"That will be no problem. I'll dream of you."

"I bet that I know what you will dream."

"I'll tell you. Bye."

He is sore at me. Right, let him slave away for a while! Wicked am I, isn't it? Yes, lovers are teasers or as the Germans say: "was sich liebt neckt sich."  


Friday night. Winston calls again: "Nicky, could you come to my salon tomorrow afternoon? We close at three, so if you come somewhat later we'll be alone."

Well, he has taken the initiative. It should be time!

"Oh yes, I'll be there about four o'clock."


He opens the door for me.

"How long do you stand on guard already?"

"Oh, I've cleared away something and I saw you coming. Okay, sit down."

He nudges me into a chair. I'm waiting. He combs my hair.

"Do you really want to see your beautiful locks lying on the floor?"

"No."

"No? So you shrink back?"

"I don't want to see them on the floor. I mean, I don't need to look, do I?"

"Could you be less cryptical?"

"Listen Win, I would like to have the experience of a shaven head but actually I don't want to be bald."

"That sounds like the quadrature of the circle. I cannot solve that problem, even a mathematic can't."

"Come on, old boy, use your imagination. After all you are so creative."

But he is not amused.

"I don't have a solution for everything, not for the impossible. I understand that you have fooled me."

"Thank goodness! You still have imagination! I thought you would never phantom it.

"You are a bitch, you know. Preferably I would like to put you across my knees and give you a good spanking but unfortunably you are too tall."

"Yes Winnie, I'm sorry. You should punish me, I deserve it. Do as you wish," I say looking at him with a guilty glance.

"To punish you I could give you a shorter haircut but not now. You haven't got that far yet."

"Maybe I'll never get that far."

"Oh, that's dead certain. Why do you call me Winnie?"

"I like it. Winston is so.........respectable."

"You think I am not?"

"Oh yes. I don't mean you as a person, only your name."

"That's a great comfort. You know, up till now only two women have called me Winnie: my mother and someone I have known very well. Both were very fond of me."

"The other is a friend?"

"Ex fiancèe."

"Maybe I'm going to be fond of you too."

"Really?"

I don't answer but grasp his head with both hands and pull it towards mine. At last he kisses me. He has to for I push my mouth almost upon his.

Some time later he says: "All the same you need to be punished for making a fool of me."

"I told you that I agree. Think of anything!"

"Let's go upstairs first. I'm thirsty and the salon is not equipped with the right liquids."


According to my watch it is about seven o'clock, so three hours have passed since my arrival but I've lost every sense of time. In my memory it could have been one hour as well as ten.

I'm lying naked on my back on Winston's couch covered by a blanket. Winston is sitting next to me, one hand stirring through my hair,

entangling it.

"Why do you do that?" I ask, "You make it notty."

"It doesn't matter," he answers carelessly. "It is funny, you know, that the only part of your skin I have not seen is the one on your skull."

At once I sit up straight and withdraw my head from his grasping hand. Winston says: "We still have to invent a penalty for you."

Startled I ask him: "What are you up to, Win? Have you changed your mind? Was it all of line with the truth persisting to assure me that you wouldn't shave my head?"

"Didn't you ask for it?" He laughs. "So?"

I look at him, frightened but strange enough at the same time excited, thinking of clippers moving across my scalp. I shudder at the thought what a feeling this would be! I display odd behaviour when Winston takes my hand saying: "Come with me."Meekly I rise and follow him just like that. Then I realize that I'm naked. I hesitate but Winston says: "It doesn't matter, we are alone in the house."

Downstairs in the salon I sit down in a chair and Winston covers me with a sheet. He lifts my tresses and spread them out on the sheet. He is going to cut them all off! He has scissors in his right hand, grabs a lock with his left and cuts it near to my scalp! I start to cry and Winston kisses me: "'Don't be sad. Don't you want the experience?"

"I know," I say sobbing, "But it is hard to lose all my lovely tresses."

However, there is no way back any more and soon my last strand lands on the floor. On my head result short wisps only. The clippers appear and their view makes me shiver. It is a frightening and exciting sensation to feel them buzzing across my scalp. I have to cry again when I look at my image in the mirror............

"Hey girl, wake up!" Winston's voice is calling me. "Darling, it is nearly eight o'clock and I'm starving. Did you have a nightmare, you seem to be dismayed."

Winston kisses the tears from my cheeks. I move my hand to my head and........no, I'm not bald. It has been a nightmare, it is no reality!

I tell Winston my dream.

"Poor sweetheart! What an ugly dream! Though, you want to know how it is to be bald and now you have that experience."

"You are right," I say smiling and think of the twinge of frightening excitement which it caused.

I stroke my hand through my hair: "I have to disentangle my locks. You made a mess of them."

"I'll take care of that. Let's go downstairs."

"I don't know...."

"Come on, darling! Are you afraid? I won't force you to do something you don't want. Trust me."

"Of course I trust you. I shouldn't be so childish. A dream is only a dream and doesn't change anything. Besides, I have'nt got my punishment yet."

"That's true."

"Well, now you have the opportunity to spank me; I'm competely nude."

"Okay. Turn around and rest your knees and elbows on the couch."

Having done this he hits me with the flat of his hand a few times om my bottom, not frequently and not harsh but nevertheless tears well up in my eyes. At the same time I get aroused. I grab him and kiss him passionately. Winston's passion is stimulated equally and he lifts me and carries me to his bedroom........

Later, when we tired but satisfied, are lying side by side, I say: "Maybe some time I could bring myself to try a new hairstyle. It might be soon but it could last longer."

"It doesn't matter," Winston replies while he caresses my tresses again, "Tomorrow morning I'll take care of your hair. Shampooing and conditioning, perhaps curls. Would you like curls?"

I have wavy hair but never had curls.

"I think it is lovely."

Such is life when you have a hairstylist as lover. Yes, I have a new hairdresser and he has me. Not only as a client but as a lover too. I'm at the mercy of him with body and soul, with hide and hair...!

My hair! What will tomorrow bring us? What will I allow him to do? However, how could I resist him?




II. THE STORY OF WINSTON.



When I took over the beautysalon I had the ambition to transform the oldfashioned business into an extravagant one. In the dropped off town things necessarily should be changed. However, I had to operate cautiously, not try to introduce my visions too fast. Little by little!

To start with I selected my co-workers, the stylists who would assist me. Out of a number of applicants I chose a threesome, girls who were not afraid of radical make-overs. They should give shape to my ideas about hairstyling. They were all young, twenty to twentyfive years, and their features were were suitable to fit the objects in view.
 
Kelly was twenty-three, had a rather short blonde bob. I cut it with a knife into uneven spiky wisps and dyed some seperate locks red and green.
 
Nadia, twenty-one, a brunette with shoulderlength wavy tresses, parted on the left side. I persuaded her to have the greater part of her head shorn to a length of 1/4 inch. Only at the front I left a fringe with a lenght of three inches.

Sharon, twenty, had really long black straight hair, passing her shoulders. Only a plait of that length at her crown was left, the rest of her head shaved to the bone.

Of course I didn't try to talk my clients into similar exravagancies. I told them: "They are young and can take it. Of course such haircuts are not suitable for everyone."

However some young girls wanted a daring haircut and/or they wished to experiment with colours. Of course I advised: short, shorter, shortest, as I loved to cut the locks of girls short, shorter and shortest! If not their parents or teachers or bosses should have objected more teenage girls would have come to my salon for radical make-overs. Nevertheless I gained ground.

One day I met Nicky. For years she had been a client of the old chap and she had never changed her style. She didn't want me to change anything too and I could only persuade her to let me layer her tresses. Nevertheless we got on very well together, immediately we felt mutually attracted to each other. Being both single it didn't last long to become lovers.

Of course her hair continued to be a question at issue. She knew that I craved to give her another hairstyle and on the one hand she wanted to satisfy me and the idea of experimenting attracted her but on the other hand she feared that she would regret it. She remained doubtful and couldn't decide.

One Saturday afternoon she had come after closing time to my salon on my request. It was the day that we got very horny and became lovers. We made love on my couch and again in my bed.

Hot and sweaty we were lying next to each other and I was playing with her long locks.

"You're entangling my hair again," Nicky said.

"Doesn't matter, I'll fix it later. But I'm starving. Shall we dress up and eat out?"

Nicky wrinkled her nose: "I'd rather stay home with you. Do you have something palatable?"

"Let's go to the kitchen and look in the fridge," I said, rising from my bed.

Nicky inspected the contents of the fridge and the kitchen cupboards.

"Shall I cook spaghetti for us?"

"Okay."

I poured out two glasses of a white wine, took one and with my other hand grabbed Nicky's hair and pulled her head backward. While she was preparing the food I forced her to swallow the contents of the glass. She downed them and giggled when I slapped her on the buttocks. Both of us were naked and as the night was damp and warm we had no intention to cover ourselves.

We drank more wine before, during and after dinner. I opened a second flacon and we got a little tipsy.

"Let's go down to the salon and I'll fix your hair."

Nicky nodded and staggered down the stairs, giggling like a moron. She threw herself down in a chair.

"I'm ready," she giggled.

I combed out her long tresses and brushed them while Nicky closed her eyes in delight. I drew a horizontal part from her left to her right temple across her occipital bone, two inches above the tops of her ears and pinned up the hair on top of her head.

Nicky opened her eyes when I took a straight razor: "What awe ye do Win?" she asked with a thick tongue.

"I'll undercut your hair, it will feel lighter."

"Oh, with a wazor? Cool!"

She didn't object but when I started to chop off the long strands hanging down from the back of her head with my knife she said, giggling again:"Oh my god."

After having shortened the long hair beneath the part to short wisps I took my clippers and warned her: "I have to even up."

"Oh, natuwally."

Nicky shivered when felt the naked teeth of the clippers on the skin of her nape moving slowly upwards to the occipital bone.

"Mmmmm," she moaned.

"Do you like the fond touch of the small teeth nibbling off the tiny remnants?"

"D..delicious! Pwoceed!"

I didn't hesitate. The backside of her head, her sideboards, the sides in front, above and behind her ears were all set free of hair. Pale skin with a dark shadow was the result. Nicky didn't seem to realize, at least not fully, what had happened.

I unpinned the hair on top and let it fall down. I combed it out and made Nicky look at herself in the mirror.

"Okay, fine," she said. She saw no difference, the shaved parts were covered by her hair.

I lifted her locks on the right side. Her eyes grew wide and she began to snigger: "Oh my, what you done?"

"Well, if you braid your hair or put it in a ponytail the shaven back and sides are visible." I dropped the locks: "Now you don't see any difference, only less volume."

"Funny....but why?"

"You didn't stop me."

"No, I wanted to please you."

She looked down at her long tresses, lying limp on the floor. She stood up from the chair and sank to her knees, trying to collect them. But she couldn't maintain her equilibrium and tittering she fell against the chair. I knelt down next to Nicky to support her. She grabbed me and pulled me on top of her. Lying on her tresses we made love.....

"I'm feeling very uncomfortable with your weight on top of me," Nicky said afterwards.

We rose, hot and sweaty, Nicky's hair sticking everywere on our bodies. We were too exhausted and not yet sobered up enough to shower and went to bed.

Nicky gawned, rubbed her nape and the shaven parts of her head: "Woa, that's short...Cool!" she laughed.

She wasn't cross with me!

No, also not the next morning when she fully realized what had happened. Sitting in front of a mirror she meticulously looked at her image, lifting and dropping her tresses by turns.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked.

Nicky hesitated: "You know, as it is now it gives me the impression that something is unfinished."

"You're right and it would be easy to give you a stylish hairdo but I should have to cut more to create an inverted bowlcut."

"How is that?"

"I can show you. In the salon I have pictures in a hairmagazine. Shall we go down?"

"Okay."

"As you see this picture shows the right side of the model's head. The hair in the front is about chinlength and is at an angle cut shorter towards the occipital bone. Here you see the backside: the haircut is arched with the occipital bone as highest, the nape and partly the backside are clippered or even shaved."

Nicky considered the pictures carefully: "And the frontal view?"

"This one, preferably a central parting. So you have on both sides identical locks framing your face."

"I think it is a cute style, very cute, but......I should have to sacrifice a lot of my tresses."

"Sure, that's true but there is no need to decide now, think about it."

She did. After we had lunched she said: "If I decide to opt for a bowl cut and if, after some time, I rather want long hair again, could you give me extensions then?"

"Of course."

"Okay, do it Win. I'm ready for a change."

"Are you sure? Once I have started there is no way back."

"I know. Let's do it!"

We went again to the salon and I only had to use scissors to shorten her long tresses and shape them into a nice bowl cut.

Nicky looked at her image and....smiled: "Wow, marvellous! Why did I fear to cut my hair? Thank you, darling!"

"Yes, I must say that you look very sophisticated."

"So no curls after all."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart but it's impossible now."

"Doesn't matter, I like it as it is now."

However I knew that she thought I had not done what I had promised. I had done something else: finally I had persuaded her to accept a short haircut.


A few weeks later Nicky should spend the weekend with me again. In the morning and part of the afternoon on Saturday she had an assignment to take pictures and videorecordings of a wedding

At three o'clock my last customer of that day was leaving and I told my girls that they could go home. Sharon and Nadia soon disappeared but Kelly hesitated. She asked me if could do her a favour.

"Asking is for free," I answered, "But I don't know if I'm able to fulfill your wishes."

"I think you are," Kelly told me, "my hair should be dyed again, it is growing out. However I would prefer a changed style."

"That's okay," I said, "sit down, as soon as I'm free I'll help you."

I saw my client to the door and turned back to Kelly. I inspected her short hair.

"Yes, you're right, time for a change. As you have agreed in our contract I have the right to determine your hairstyle."

"Of course, I signed it."

I caped her and took my clippers. Of course Kelly saw that I hadn't applied an attachment but she didn't say anything.

"Are you ready?"

Hesitating she asked: "Are you going to shave all off?"

"Clever girl," I grinned.

"Well, okay, go ahead."

I flicked on the switch and pushed her head to her chest. I put the clippers at her nape and moved them to her crown, cutting the hair to the skin, of which the pale colour became visible. I repeated the action a number of times, her nape and the back of her head were bared, then I shaved the sides and at last the top of her head.

When I was busy Nicky, who had a key of the front door, entered the salon. Seeing what I was doing she took a seat.

"Hi, Kelly wants a change, just a few more minutes."

"I see," Nicky said, "a radical one obviously."

"Yeah," I grinned. I had put aside the clippers and now was lathering her scalp. "I'm going to change her head into a pretty cueball. Right Kelly?"

Kelly smiled: "I hope that the result will be pretty."

After I had finished I asked Kelly: "Well, do give your consent? I have now one girl with a shaven head and a fringe, one with a shaven head and a plait and one with a fully bald head."

Kelly rose, rubbing her bald pate: "Wow, it feels so smooth and soft."

"Allow me?" Nicky asked and brushed one hand across her bare scalp.

Kelly thanked me with a kiss, saying: "I hope my boy friend will like my non-hairdo."

"He has to! You look cute, doesn't she, Nicky?"

"She certainly does."

Kelly left and I locked the door. I said to Nicky: "Well, that was my last client."

But she surprised me by strolling to the chair Kelly had just left and sitting down: "No, I'll be the last."

"You're right, you need a tidying up, your hair has grown out."

Nicky smiled while I put the same cape across her shoulders which had covered Kelly. Even Kelly's short locks were still lying around the chair.

"Yet there is something I don't understand," I said, "not so long ago you spoke about extensions."

"Eventually, I had said. But I just changed my mind."

"So what do you want me to do now?''

"You know, when I saw you clip and shave Kelly's head it did kindle in me the urge to have that experience myself."

I stood dumbfounded: "You mean that you want me to do the same to you?" I asked unbelievingly. "Is this a joke?"

"No, I'm serious. Only, I should like to keep a fringe just like Nadia. Would you do that?"

"Sure, but.....I'm perplexed that you suddenly have changed your mind so radically."

Nicky laughed: "Winnie, I want to please you. Don't you like it, shaving a girl's head?"

I didn't answer but simply took my clippers and pushed her head to her chest. The clippers made short work of the greater part of her tresses. I had combed the frontal part over her face and cut them just above her eyebrows. I lathered her scalp and shaved it behind the fringe smooth and clean.

She looked stunning. I took her upstairs to my bedroom.....to incredibly impassioned sex.

EPILOQUE BY NICKY.

Oh, my god! I'm bald! Well, not competely, just except a few tendrils at the front but most of my head is naked. How could I let this happen?! I loved my beautiful coppery tresses.......... It's unbelievable that I had them cut off and my head shaved! Why, oh, why?

Yes, I loved my long mane but I love Winnie more.

He didn't urge me, did he? No, but I knew what he wanted. First I let him cut my hair short and.......what the fuck......seeing Kelly's head shaven I couldn't any longer resist: I wanted to experience myself how the clippers eagerly would reduce my hair to stubble and foremost be aware of the sensation of the razor scraping across my head, shaving away the vestiges of hair, leaving my head as bald as a coot.

Gosh, it feels so good, so soft and smooth! and now, how to continue? Well, the hair is gone but the shaving must go on! I'm looking forward to the next time! Winnie says: at least twice a week. Hurray!

Yes, it is surprising how being in love can change your opinions and make you broadminded!

The end.

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