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The Icy Queen she was called by us, freshmen at the university, owing to her cool and unapproachable social behaviour. Felicity, a beauty with deep blue eyes and light blonde, thick hair that flowing cascaded across her shoulders where it ended in broad curls, a really magnificent mane. 

Every boy in her class tried to chat her up but in vain, she fended all off. Generally she didn't seem to appreciate company except her two best friends who were called her Maids of Honour and who always were around Felicity. It was not haughtiness, I think, but rather self-sufficiency which made her exceptional among us.

Felicity spent much time and care to her appearance, she always looked as if she had just visited a beautysalon.     

Christmas was approaching and most of us went home to spent the holidays in their family circles.

When the lectures were resumed in the next semester everyonr in our class gasped when Felicity and her two friends entered the classroom. Her luscious mane had gone! From a distance her head seemed to be completely bald but while she came nearer you could see that her scalp was covered by very short stubble, no longer than 1/8 inch, with great difficulty visible owing to the light colour of her hair.

Of course she got a lot of questions from her classmates but she didn't gave an explanation, reason or motive about the shearing of her locks. Diana and Alison, her Maids of Honour, kept their mouths shut too.

Nevertheless, also without her radiant tresses she was a beauty. Different,  her long and slender neck was now unveiled and her small ears were beautifully shaped, just as her skull. And her features stood out more, no longer partially hidden by hair.

Of course rumours were going around. What had happened?

Had she got alopecia? No, she had no bald patches and had (very short) hair all over her scalp.

Chemo? Well, she was as fit as a fiddle. Or had she done it to support any of her relatives who had lost his or her hair? Not very probable, Felicity, the Icy Queen, wasn't a girl to make this sacrifice.

Had she lost a bet? Felicity wasn't known making wagers and certainly she wouldn't risk her hair.  

Punishment? For what? Felicity kept aloof but she never had done something bad. And who would punich her? She was 18, so her parents were excluded and she had no boyfriend.

Revenge? That should have become known publicly which was not the case.

Had she had had it up to here to spent such a lot of trouble and time to keep her hair in such good shape. But she always gave the impression that she considered it worthwhile, so this wasn't very probable.         

Or had she changed her mind and wanted a short style? But this radical one? No one could believe that.

Had  someone offered her a big amount of money to buy her locks? No, her father was rich and she didn't need the money, she could get whatever she wanted.

Nor was it possible that she had sacrificed her beautiful tresses for charity. Far more realistical it would have been for her to donate a considerable amount of money.

Had Felicity joined a religious sect or a sorority that required such a sacrifice? Highly impossible, she wasn't religious at all and besides, our university had no sorority that prescribed pledges to shave their heads.

An accident which had caused a head injury? There was not the faintest shadow of a scar on her scalp.

Some of us suggested that Felicity had been dared to shave her head. But the majority doubted of anyone should be able to seduce her to do such a deed.

One possibility seemed to be acceptable: coming out as a dyke. Indeed there was some suspicion about her Maids of Honour: weren't they more than friends? But there was no prove and besides, would Felicity make such a sactifice only for that reason?

So it remained all guesswork.

A few days afterwards I was visiting the university library, looking for a book I needed for my studies. Suddenly Felicity entered the room. Of course she recognized me as one of her classmates but generally she ignored me and faked not to see me when such meetings happened.

Not this time, she smiled and even greeted me : "Hi."

Surprised I replied: "Hi."   

My amazement increased when she headed into my direction, saying: "You are Laura, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"You belong to the few who didn't bother me about my new non-hair do."

"Errr......yes. Though I wondered why you did it."

Felicity smiled enigmatically: "Everyone has a secret or even more than one. Certainly you have one too. What is your secret?"

I didn't know what to answer and I felt that I started to blush.

Felicity went on: "You have no boyfriend, have you?"

I shook my head: "No but....."

She didn't let me finish: "Did you ever have boyfriends?"

I hesitated but didn't want to lie: "No."

"Ah."

My god, I had betrayed myself! But posssibly she knew already.

"How do you know?"

Again the enigmatical smile: "I have my sources. But don't worry I will not speak about it to anyone if you promise to do that about my secret."

"You needn't tell me."

"Yes, you have to know. It's hardly a secret that I'm lesbian. Too many people know, including my parents."

That made me curious. There was a coffee-corner in the library and Felicity asked me to follow her for a cup of coffee. And then she told me her story.   

"During the holidays I was strolling along the streets of my home town and at some moment I found myself standing in front of a barbershop. Of course this was not the first time I saw it but this time for one or other reason I felt the urge to have a look inside. Though the shop was not closed I didn't see anyone inside. Curiously I opened the door and for the first time in my life I entered a barbershop. I looked around me, the furnishing was so different from that of a beautysalon.

Suddenly I heard a voice behind me: "Can I help you, miss?"

I turned to see a stout middle-aged man, balding, wearing a short white coat.

"Errr...no, I don't think so, I'm just curious."

He smiled: "I don't think that you would be here for a haircut."

"You have no female clients?"

"Oh yes but only for short haircuts, no women with hair like yours."

"Right, I love my hair."

"I don't think so," he smiled.

Surprised I said: "Sorry? I really do."

"How can you love something that is dead stuff? You may like to wear it as an adornment just as jewelry, yes, but love it?"

I laughed: "My hair is not dead, look how glossy and healthy it is."

"Yes, it gleams just like gold and silver but it is all dead material."

I couldn't believe it but he is a professional and he explained that only the hairfollicle consists of living tissue and produces the hair consisting of horn  which is dead material. A hair doesn't grow but the more the follicle produces the longer the hair gets until it falls out. I didn't know those facts, perhaps I hadn't paid attention enough during the biology lessons which were not brought in a way to catch our interest. So homosexuality was only mentioned as a deviation!

Anyway it was a shocking message to know that dead material sprouted out of my skin. I had produced my hair but it didn't belong to me just as dead skin that had to be peeled off. Unlike a hat or cap you couldn't put it on and off as hair was fixed to your head. To get rid of it you had to shave it off! This thought frightened me. I would never be able to do that, would I? Or would I?

When I had left the shop I was embarrassed. All day and parts of the night when I didn't sleep the knowledge that I had dead tissue on my head haunted me.

I could no longer bear it and sought the support and advice of my parents but they could or would not understand me.

"My child, you have such beautiful hair, why bother," my mother told me.

And my father said: "You have your hair as it is. Make something of it."

No, they were of no support to me in my dilemma. I had to find a solution myself. What to do?

I had a sudden hunch: surf the Net! And yes, I found a lot of haircuttting sites. Two of them had my special interest: Desteni for equality and FaceWorld/FaceOff. Women shaving off their hair owing to idealistic motives. 

Suddenly I stood in front of the barbershop again while wandering through the city. I hesitated, then trembling entered. The barber stood there smiling as if he expected me. There was no one else in the shop.

"Well, miss, you are back," he concluded, "What can I do for you?"

"I don't know what to do, I don't want dead stuff on my head!" I blurted out.

"Sit down," he ordered and I meekly obeyed.

He draped a cape around me and fastened it at my nape.

"What are you going to do?" I asked him.

"I''ll help you," he simply said, "If your hair bothers you, shave it off."

I gasped: "You are going to shave my head?"

"Yes, but if you don't accept my assistance you are free to leave. But never come back."

"So I have to decide now?"

"I give you one minute."

Thoughts raged through my mind.

Then he said: "You didn't jump and run away. Time is up, so you have decided to agree?"

I nodded, unable to speak.

"Okay," he said, "Please, bent your head forward to your chest."

I obeyed and heard the humming sound of clippers while the barber grabbed a lock of my hair at the back of my head and lifted it. One moment later I felt the clippers on my nape, moving upwards to my crown. The sliding of them across the skin of my scalp was an awful and arousing sensation. To my disappoinment he switched them off and asked: "How does that feel?"

"Wonderfull, please proceed," I moaned.

"I knew" he laughed, switching the clippers on again. After a few passes the back of my head was bared and he rotated the chair 1/4 turn to the right. The barber put the clippers in front of my ear and shaved off my sideburn to my temple. Soon the right side of my head was denuded and again the chair was rotated into the other direction, now 1/2 turn. Very short I saw my image in the mirror: on the right side no more hair, on the left my locks still lying on my shoulder. Very odd!

In the meantime I had got so aroused that under the cape I had moved my right hand under my skirt towards my crotch. I was wearing a tanga so it was not difficult to penetrate my vulva with my fingers. While the barber removed the tresses on the left side of my head I couldn't more control myself and orgasmed. When I had recovered I noticed that he had switched off the clippers and stood waiting for a restart. Shamefaced and bashful I looked up to him but he smiled and didn't say anything. He turned the chair with the back to the mirror, switched on the clippers and put them on my hairline. The last remaining tresses on the front and top of my head were sent to thr floor. After a few sweeps criss-cross across my scalp the barber turned the chair towards the mirror and for the first time I could look at myself. Though I knew what to expect it was a shock to see my completely bald pate. I turned my head from left to right and rubbed one hand across my skull.

"It feels like sandpaper," I said at last.

"I've not yet finished," the barber announced, untying the cape and taking it off. Then he spread a towel across my shoulders. I directed my glances to the floor where my former beautiful mane was spread out  around the chair and seeing those golden tresses lying useless mixed feelings stealed over me. What had I done? Was this really my wish? But I had chosen for baldness and it could not be made undone. Then I realized that I should have to remain bald for ever, which caused a feeling of panic for a few moments. Unless I later would change my mind and could live with dead stuff on my head! Had I reacted too fast? But all those troubles vanished when the next act in my transformation announced itself: the barber dumped a dollop of shaving foam on my skull and spread it out over my scalp, giving me a white cap. He honed a straight razor and started to shave the foam together with the short stubble from my head. Had the feeling of the clippers sliding along my scalp been awful, the scraping of the razor was heavenly, divine! Again I got very excited and craved to caress my private parts but I was no longer covered by a cape. I wanted the shaving to continue for ever and was disappointed when it was over. But to my inexpressible satisfaction the barber lathered my scalp anew and shaved me a second time. Then he wiped my head clean with a towel and rubbed a lotion into the skin. With a woollen tissue he polished my scalp to a shining chrome dome.

"All done, I wish you luck," he said.

I rubbed with both hands across my scalp:"Whoa, that is smooth."

I looked at myself in the mirror; I was bald, bald as a cueball!

I kissed him on the cheek, thanked and paid him.

This is my story, now you know the reason of my haircut."

"Why did you tell me?"

Felicity smiled: "Listen Laura, I'm called the Icy Queen as if I would be an unfeeling person but that is wrong, I need someone, I have emotions. I had Diana and Alyson, they are both bisexual and during the holidays they both got boyfriends. That  meant the end of our relationship: you can't have a boyfriend and sleep with a girl. Do you understand now?"

"Not yet. You are a glorious girl and I'm rather plain, no beauty and without exceptional qualities."

"Laura, I'm not exceptional either. My beauty, yes, but it is not my merit, it's a gift. Besides, a part of it I left on the floor of a barbershop."

"No, even bald you still are beautiful though different. So, why are you interested in me?"

"Laura, I have observed you for some time and I like you. Don't ask me why, let's say the attraction of opposites. It's not a question of reasoning but emotion. I want to learn knowing you better but if you refuse I won't bother you any longer."

"Felicity, I've always admired you. How could I refuse."

I went with her to her apartment. We talked, drank wine, had dinner, kissed and hugged and at last disrobed each other. When we were naked Felicity asked me to shave her head as her hair was growing out. We went to her bathroom and I shaved her bald again. As could expected Felicity got very aroused but the shaving let me not unaffected as well. So we made love to each other on the floor of the bathroom. I experienced that the so called Icy Queen was a passionate lover, a totally other person than in daily life.

I became Felicity's new and only Maid of Honour and her loved one. She didn't ask me to shave my head too but I did it in solidarity with her. It was not a big sacrifice, my hair was mousy and fine and never grew further than my shoulders. It did hardly cause a stir: it was generally known that we were lovers. 

We shave each other twice a week, not only our heads but also our body hair. For hair is dead stuff that has to be removed, hasn't it?

The end.

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