When I first saw Gayle she had really long black hair, as soon as I saw its length I just knew that I had to get her to cut it. Talking to her was easy as we soon found we had a lot in common. Gayle had brown eyes that you could spend all day gazing at, when she smiled, her eyes sparkled as well. I soon found out that as well as a liking to watch sports, ice hockey being her favourite, she was also quite sporty herself. I decided that this would be my “way in”. I challenged Gayle to an energetic game of badminton, during which she spent as lot of time flicking her hair back, indeed on a couple of occasions she lost points because her view was obstructed.
Afterwards as we sat chatting I noticed she spent a lot of time twirling her glossy hair through her fingers. I told her how luxuriant her hair looked, she thanked me and said it took a lot of looking after. I joked with her saying that it also cost her a game of badminton! Her hair had been long since childhood, she was now 21 and could remember not the last time it had been significantly cut. When I offered to cut her hair, and not just trim the ends I could tell by looking into her eyes that she would say yes.
We were soon in her hotel room, as I felt she would feel safer on her own “patch”, and Gayle sat carefully brushing through her long hair. She asked me how much I would be cutting off. I told her that it depended on her, and how much she wanted cut off, or how much she would let me cut. She gestured up to her shoulders and I said that she would still look great. Her brushed hair hung down to the small of her back, cutting to her shoulders would mean Gayle losing 8 inches of the most luxuriant hair I had ever felt. Before she could reconsider I gathered up Gayle’s hair, pulling it back from her face and my left hand soon held a plentiful bunch of her hair. Holding it tightly, so not to let any hairs escape I scissored off Gayle’s hair so it swung free and bounced to her shoulder blades. I then presented Gayle with the lustrous, ebony bouquet I held. She looked surprised at the quantity she held, and she moved her hands as if weighing the shorn hair. When I told her there was more to come her eyes widened, but she smiled when I said that the reason I was going to cut more was to cut in a fringe so her eyes could be seen more easily. Before the cut her hair had been all the same length, the hair covering her face was much longer than the rest I had lovingly severed. I cut the fringe so it fell about an inch above her eyebrows, leaving a short black curtain of hair tickling her forehead. The meeting of the blades caused nearly 2 feet of hair to cascade into Gayle’s lap, which she excitedly collected and played with as I tidied up her hair. A few more scissor snips and I had neatened up the cut, making sure it was level as it bounced at its new length. Once I had put my scissors down Gayle shook her head and run her fingers through her shorter style. The grin on her face and the sparkle in her eyes told me she liked it. She thanked me and gave me a small but lengthy bunch or her hair as a souvenir.
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