Erica was like any other teenage girl – she followed fashion faithfully, seeking out the latest in clothes and hairstyles. It wasn’t easy for her, because her family lived on a farm and the nearest town – well, little more than a village – didn’t exactly stock the newest high street copies of Versace. The shops sold practical clothes like shirts and conservatively tailored trousers and denim skirts and jeans and boring shirtwaister dresses for those special occasions.
Erica had to be content with drooling over magazines, or asking her mother, who could sew like an angel, to make her clothes in the latest style. Not that she really had anywhere much to wear them. The local boys didn’t appreciate the newest peasant shirts.
As well as clothes being on the dull side in town, the two hair salons that had been there forever weren’t the best either. If you wanted a tidy bob, great! If you wanted a shampoo and set, that was great too! And as for perms – well, they were big sellers for the women on the land. A good perm would keep your hair trouble-free for months. Erica read the latest Hair for You and sighed in despair. The local salons wouldn’t be able to replicate any of these looks. They still thought streaks were avant garde and probably only ever used aluminium foil to wrap up their sandwiches for lunch.
“What’s wrong, Erica?” her mother asked, hearing the desperate, heartfelt sigh from her only daughter. She stroked Erica’s long, shiny blonde hair comfortingly.
Erica grumbled: “I wish I could have my hair cut like this – you know, the Meg Ryan bedhead look.” She showed her mother the pictures – Hair for You and also Woman’s Weekly with a big picture of tousled Meg looking like she’d just thrown the sheets back and pulled on a t-shirt.
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“Well, it’s a shame to cut off all this lovely hair of yours, but if you want to, I’ll run you into town to the hairdresser’s.”
Erica snorted. “As if they’d be able to do a trendy haircut! Look at the botchy job they made of my Rachel cut last year, it’s taken ages to look good again. Everyone in this town looks like they’ve had the same haircut for fifteen years! Even you… er… no offence, Mum!”
Erica’s mother, Jan, grinned. She had been cutting her own hair for many years into a blunt bob, with a steady hand and a hand mirror to let her see the back. Jan had cut all her children’s hair until they were old enough to protest that they wanted professional haircuts. It was a credit to Jan’s skill that the professional cuts weren’t noticeably better than the ones the children had received from their mother.
“Well, darling, if you want, I can try and cut it like that, although I haven’t given any of you children a haircut in years. It doesn’t look too difficult – it’s all messy anyway. Really, how hard can it be?”
Erica agreed. The thought “famous last words” never entered her head.
So Erica galloped off to find a big towel to wrap around her neck and shoulders, and Jan went in the other direction to gather her scissors, comb, and razor comb, implements she’d used on Erica’s older brothers’ hair for years.
Erica brought a stool into the bathroom and sat on it, waiting for her mother. She flicked the growing-out Rachel cut over the towel with trembly hands and butterflies in her stomach. Her reflection in the mirror showed a slim girl with a pert nose and a wide mouth…. and eyes that gazed intently, looking at her long hair.
Erica’s hair had been her pride and joy. As a young girl it had hung to her waist, and she’d waited patiently each morning while her mother plaited it, ready for school. She’d played with it, sucked the ends of her plaits, got paint and clay in it and all the other things that invariably happened to little girls’ long hair. Until last year’s Rachel, all Erica ever had was a trim, a half inch snipped off the bottom of her hair every two months.
Now, at fifteen, she was having mixed feelings. Part of her felt safe with long hair; it hid her face if she blushed, it was attractive to boys. And the other part of her ached to have it cut short, to watch a pair of scissors snip it off and turn her into someone different, someone more grown up. The thought of getting a short haircut turned her on, and for the last few weeks Erica had lain in her single bed and touched herself every single night, fantasising about scissors decimating her locks.
Watching the hairdresser cut her waist-length hair into a Rachel last year had started the fantasies; Erica couldn’t take her eyes off the scissors slicing her long locks into a shoulder-length shag. Erica wondered if all women got a sexual thrill from getting a haircut, whether it was part of the puberty process. Could those stout women sitting under the dryers with their fierce perms get turned on when they felt the scissors at their fat, wrinkly necks? Erica supposed so. Maybe that’s why they came back to the salon often for trims.
“Ready?” Jan put down her arsenal of hair tools and picked up a brush, ready to brush the silky long hair for the last time.
Erica smiled as she felt the brush tug through her long hair and tingle against her scalp. Her mother gave GREAT brush!
Then Jan studied the Meg Ryan bedhead picture carefully, contemplating how she’d go about recreating the look. Probably start with a bob then thin out the layers using the razor comb, she decided.
Erica’s hair hung in a shiny, straight fall, glistening under the light.
Jan picked up her scissors.
Erica’s heartbeat rose to a frantic rate as her mother placed the scissors in her hair at jawbone level and began to cut.
SKKKRRRRIIIIIIIKKKKK! SKKKRIIIIKKKKKK! The sound of scissors sawing through dry hair was loud and alien. The hairdresser always wet it first. But Jan was nervous of cutting it wet – she couldn’t see what she was doing with wet hair.
For Erica the sound was an amazing turn-on. Crunchy and crackly and very final. This wasn’t the almost silent sound of scissors gliding through wet hair. It was the sound of battle, of hair putting up a fight.
She looked at her jeans. Inches and inches of her long hair lay on her legs now. It looked like a lot, but her mother had only just cut one side and hadn’t really started on the back.
Now she felt the scissors touch her neck, low down near the towel. She caught her breath and tried to be silent, but wanted desperately to cry out in pleasure as the cold steel rested against her skin. How much hair was going to hit the floor? Almost a foot!
Erica’s eyes were glued to the mirror as she watched her mother close the blades. The right side of her hair hung to her jaw, the left side almost to her breasts. Now as she watched, locks of hair dropped away from the scissors at the back of her head.
Jan’s face was a mask of concentration as she cut off her daughter’s long hair. Slowly and carefully she cut it straight across the back, never dreaming that her daughter was enjoying her haircut with enormous sexual passion.
The thick hair bounced upwards as the weight of it was reduced. Jan frowned – was it going to be too short? Nothing she could do about that now! She kept cutting a straight line around to Erica’s left ear, and in silence, with the scissors the only sound in the room, lopped off the last long lock.
Erica looked at the floor in wonder. The pile of hair around the stool was immense – had it all come from her head?
She ran her fingers through the bob, loving the shortness of it, and the way the ends felt all thick and funny because of the dry cut. She shook her head wildly and watched her hair fly out from her head in a halo.
“Is it okay?” asked Jan nervously. “Not too short?”
“It’s fantastic, Mum!” Erica gasped, hoping the crotch of her jeans wasn’t showing wet. She’d never been so turned on in her life.
“Well, I’d better try and get these wispy layers into it, then,” Jan decided, picking up the comb with the built-in razor blades.
Erica sat still while her mother lifted up a chunk of hair and began to stroke it with the razor comb. It made a rasping sound as the razor sawed through Erica’s thick hair. It also pulled and tugged quite a bit which added to Erica’s excitement. She watched as hairs piled up on the razor blade and her mother pulled them off and dropped them on the floor.
Jan moved around Erica’s head, lifting and razoring the hair. It seemed to take ages and neither Erica nor her mother could see much difference. Certainly there were no defined layers, despite the soft fuzz of razored hair which now lay on top of the hanks of hair on the floor.
“Maybe if I just comb through your hair with this,” Jan mused. She placed the comb against Erica’s head and pressed firmly as she pulled it through the hair.
A large chunk of hair fell to the ground; what was left was barely an inch long and sprang to attention.
“Omigod!” gasped Jan. “Oh, Erica, I’m sorry! I haven’t used this for years; I forgot how quickly it cuts!”
Erica looked in amazement at her reflection. She had a little tuft on one side of her head now, sticking out incongruously amidst the longer fronds.
She had an idea, one that made the butterflies in her stomach flap even more desperately. “Maybe you could do that all over my head, then, and give me a pixie cut. You know, like that picture of Charlize Theron.” It was hard to get the words out, her heart was beating so quickly.
Erica flicked through the magazine and pointed out a photo of Charlize Theron in The Astronaut’s Wife, her hair cropped to short, tousled perfection.
“It’s very short,” said Jan dubiously, running her fingers through Erica’s hair.
“So’s this bit,” said Erica wryly, fingering the little tuft.
Taking a deep breath, Jan began at the front. She combed Erica’s hair over her forehead, where it covered her eyes and nose.
Unable to see, Erica could only feel as the comb was placed into her hair. Then Jan pressed down and drew the comb through, hacking off a chunk of hair to an inch long over Erica’s left eye. Stifling a smile, Erica sat patiently while her mother cut her a short fringe with the razor. Two more firm, tugging strokes and her hair lay flat against the top of her forehead, and her knees were covered in clippings.
Jan moved to the side and began to drag the comb deeply into Erica’s hair. It tingled as it pulled and cut. Soft strands fell from the razor and after a minute of cutting Erica noticed her hair was considerably shorter around her temple.
“I’ll cut it with scissors later and trim the shape around your ears and hairline,” her mother promised, carefully combing and combing in front of Erica’s ears until they were revealed and her shoulder wore a soft fur of cut hair.
Erica loved the feeling of the razor dragging through her locks. Her lucky, lucky brothers to have had their hair cut like this when they were young!
Jan worked behind Erica’s ear now, shortening the hair dramatically. The hair at Erica’s nape looked very, very long in comparison to the hair on the left of her head. Jan eyed her work critically. It was all uneven lengths, but she supposed it would be okay when she’d trimmed it and finished it off.
Without thinking, Erica bent her head forward as her mother began to stroke the razor through the back. How she longed to feel it at her nape, ripping through her hair and cutting it as short as a boy’s! She looked at her knees and concentrated on hearing the raspy sound and feeling the pleasant tug.
Jan moved down Erica’s head and started to cut the hair on her daughter’s nape. The razor followed the shape of Erica’s skull almost of its own accord. Deciding to experiment a little, Jan flicked the comb over and dragged it UP into Erica’s hair rather than down through it. Immediately the hair was severed a bare quarter inch from Erica’s skin, right at the hairline.
Jan bit her lip. This haircut was turning into a disaster! Now she’d have to cut the nape the same length along the girl’s hairline or it would look stupid. She hoped Erica wouldn’t be angry at the result.
Erica was aware of a cold feeling on her nape as her hair was cut off, and grinned to herself. Her mother had cut it very short indeed if she wasn’t mistaken! Then the familiar downward tugging started again near the top of her head, cropping her locks.
Gradually Jan moved behind Erica’s other ear, hacking off the hair more boldly now. Erica loved the feeling of the razor down near her hairline, and held her head straight so she could once more watch her haircut in progress.
Then Jan started in front of her ear, and the last of the chin-length bob fell away.
“The top could be shorter,” Erica told her mother. “I think it should be the same as the sides, it’s quite a bit longer.”
Jan placed the razor comb near Erica’s part and dragged it through the girl’s hair. But she’d absently turned the comb upside down and the hair was instantly severed much, much shorter than she’d anticipated. “Oh, no!” gasped Jan.
“Never mind,” said Erica impatiently, “I’ll just part it on the other side.”
Carefully Jan stroked the razor against Erica’s hair, rasping through the hair on top of her head again and again until Erica almost exploded in an orgasm.
“I think that’s the best I can do,” Jan said finally, with a rather sad voice.
They both looked at Erica’s reflection. It wasn’t the best haircut Erica had seen. In fact, it was close to the worst. Her hair was all uneven lengths and because of the razor was sticking out all over the place. When her mother held up a hand mirror to show her the back, she noticed her nape was buzzed at the half inch near her hairline with the rest of her hair longer… and shorter… and longer again. It looked pretty daft in anyone’s eyes.
“I’ll take you into the hairdresser,” Jan offered, mortified that she’d ruined her daughter’s hair. “They’ll fix it up. They’ll have to cut it shorter again though.”
Erica was thinking the same thing with absolutely no dismay at all.
The least dated hairdresser in town was called Noelene’s Hair and Beauty, singularly misnamed because nobody had seen anyone emerge from the front door looking beautiful or particularly well coiffured. It was the salon where Erica had received the Rachel from Hell six months ago.
“You can drop me here,” Erica said to Jan with a grin. “If you go inside with me you’ll only be embarrassed when I tell them you gave me this haircut.”
“I’m embarrassed enough already,” Jan agreed. “Okay, I’ll pick you up in an hour. I have to buy groceries anyway.”
Erica hopped out of the car and waved goodbye. She waited until the car was out of sight then trotted around the corner. It wasn’t worth spending her money on a haircut at Noelene’s when the barber shop would probably come to the same conclusion – buzz it all off!
Billy’s Barber Shop was empty except for the barber, who happened to be an attractive woman in her thirties with her hair cut into a dramatic bright red flattop. In the city, she wouldn’t be noticed; in the conservative small town she stood out like a beacon. Erica looked in the window with interest. She’d never had a haircut in a barber’s before. Her mother had always taken her to the hairdresser’s for a girly haircut. Well, she certainly didn’t have girly hair at the moment! Erica grinned and opened the door.
“Well, hello,” said the woman. “I’m Billy. Well, Wilhelmina actually, but I’ve been Billy forever. And WHAT have you been doing to your hair?” She reached over and ran her fingers through Erica’s tortured locks.
“I asked my Mum to give me a bedhead cut like Meg Ryan. She botched it up so we decided on a Charlize Theron pixie instead.”
“Is your Mum a hairdresser?”
“What do you think?” Erica giggled.
“I think no,” replied Billy. “Well, take a seat, er…”
“Erica.” She hopped into the barber’s chair, the familiar butterflies starting up again in her stomach. Under the harsh fluorescent lighting her haircut looked more ragged and amateurish than ever.
Billy folded a paper collar around Erica’s neck and fastened the cape. “So what do you think we should do with it?” She combed Erica’s hair, noticing the cropped bit near the part line. “I don’t know how you feel about this, Erica, but it’s such a mess I think I should cut it all off to one short length. Maybe a crew cut with a little fringe?”
At the words crew cut Erica got so wet she almost slid off the chair. “I-I think so too,” she said, with a big lump of excitement in her throat.
Unlike the hairdresers at Noelene’s, Billy didn’t spend any time talking about length or looking at pictures of hairstyles with her client. She grabbed a big pair of clippers with one hand, and with the other pushed Erica’s head forward so her vulnerable nape was visible.
Erica wasn’t prepared for the clippers to sound so loud and she jumped. Then she felt the clipper guide at the base of her neck and could feel the vibration of the blades. They moved up her neck and into her hair, peeling away the soft blonde locks at her nape.
Erica bit her lip so she didn’t cry out in amazement at the sensation. Billy pressed the clippers firmly against her head and pushed them up to her crown, buzzing off her hair so short her scalp felt cold. In no time at all the blades were back at her nape, shearing away more hair efficiently and quickly. Erica had never had such a haircut in her life, and wanted it to last for hours, not just minutes. The vibrating warmth of the clippers against her head was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
Three more big passes up the back saw it shorn so short Erica’s skin was visible. She brought her head up and looked in the mirror. It reflected another mirror behind the chair and she gasped as she saw the buzzed back of her head, her hair reduced to a quarter inch long.
Billy steadied her head and began to clip one side. The clippers revved up Erica’s head, pushing a mound of shorn hair in front of the blades that dropped to the floor when Billy lifted the clippers from her scalp.
“It’s going to be very short,” Billy said, “but really it’s best. The back was a mess and we’ll have to cut the top that short to match the bit near your part.” Erica’s eyes were huge as she watched the clippers nudge carefully behind her ear, above her ear and up to the top of her head, dropping clumps onto her shoulder. They slid down the shiny cape to the ground. Then the clippers were loud in her ear as they gobbled up her sideburns and the hair at her temple. What was left after Billy lifted them sat in a closely shorn pelt against her skin.
Swiftly Billy clipped the other side and Erica watched with unblinking eyes as her other ear was uncovered and the side buzzed away.
Billy swung the chair to one side and lowered the clippers to the top of Erica’s scalp. Carefully she placed them behind the razored fringe, leaving it for now, and pushed them into Erica’s hair, peeling it away with a long, assured stroke that reached back to the crown of the girl’s head.
Erica longed to be able to watch this, to see the last longish hairs on her head get cut off, but she had to be content with feeling it, the amazing tingle and tickle as the clippers nibbled her hair to stubble.
Billy picked up comb and scissors next, and snipped away at Erica’s already short fringe, turning it into little points that lay on her forehead. Then she swung the chair back to face the mirror and Erica let out a squeal of amazement.
Her hair was so short! Shorter than her brothers’! Shorter than her father’s! So short she could see the pink skin of her scalp on top when she bent her head forward!
“Wow!” she finally managed, “it’s great!”
Billy smiled enigmatically. “Did you enjoy getting your first clipper cut?”
“Very much,” agreed Erica. “The clippers feel wonderful. I had no idea…”
“Lots of women get addicted to having buzzcuts,” Billy said, as she tidied up Erica’s hairline with edging clippers, shaving stray hairs to the skin. “I love getting my hair cut and I’ve worn it in a clipper cut for almost ten years. I should think I’ll see you back here soon.”
“I think you will,” Erica agreed, gazing at her reflection and thinking that it was only this morning she still had shoulder-length hair.
She went outside to wait for her mother, who didn’t recognise her shorn daughter at first and drove straight past. Erica ran behind the car waving her arms until her mother hit the brakes.
Naturally, Erica’s brothers thought it all a great laugh and suggested she change her name to Eric. Her father, who loved long hair on girls, was devastated and stroked her decimated head sadly. Her mother was still upset about giving Erica a bad haircut in the first place. Erica, on the other hand, was truly delighted with her buzzed scalp.
She lay in her bed, stroking her velvety hair with one hand and her clit with the other. She was sopping wet as she relived the day. First the attempt at the Meg Ryan cut, her long hair lopped to a bob, then the razor pulling and ripping at her hair as the pixie took shape, then the ultimate, the culmination of a million fantasies, the clippers mowing her hair and harvesting it to a wheat stubble. Erica came with a stifled moan, and clutched the iron bedhead behind her pillow, gripping it tightly as she shuddered. It would be the only bedhead she’d have in her life from now on…
(c) Copyright Sabrina S 2000
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