Crystal Ball

Crystal Ball

The Crystal Ball by Sabrina S.

Benny Baker’s hand scuttled over the paper like a spider, leaving behind a trail of words that only his secretary Karen would be able to decipher. The report had been a bugger to write; report writing was one of the worst parts of being a manager. There were good parts, like being able to tell people what to do, and sitting back and watching them do it, but this report was, unfortunately, one Benny couldn’t delegate to anyone else.

He was stuck again on the Future Developments section. Benny sighed, and pushed the paper aside.

He pulled out his A4 pad which contained more of his scribble, this private and not for anyone’s eyes but his own. It was a story, one of many Benny had written for his own particular amusement. This, like all the others, was about a woman who had her long hair cut off. Benny almost came in his pants reading back what he’d written. Why couldn’t report writing be as easy as this? He’d scrawled the story in a mere three hours, barely pausing to breathe.

Benny had always had a “thing” for women with short hair. As he’d grown to adulthood, that had broadened slightly. He discovered he got his kicks specifically from watching women get their hair cut. Many furtive hours had been spent loitering in shopping centres, pretending to read the paper, but watching the goings-on in the nearest salon. And Benny himself had had far more haircuts than he’d wanted simply so he could see the erotic reflections of female clients being divested of their locks in the mirror. Well, not really more haircuts than he wanted. One could never have too many haircuts in Benny’s view and he thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the clippers nuzzling the back and sides of his head.

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Despite being only in his thirties, Benny wasn’t a compute literate person. Had he known that a hair fetish community thrived on the internet, he would have been in heaven. As it was, he lived in hell, believing himself to be the only person on earth with such an interest. Books on hair from the library were factual and focussed on styles throughout the ages. Nowhere did it mention haircutting having a sexual attraction for some lucky people. Likewise the magazines such as Hair Monthly that Benny never dared to buy seemed to only feature the latest styles – and not nearly enough makeovers in progress!

So Benny contented himself with writing his own erotic literature about women getting haircuts, since he couldn’t find it anywhere on the shelves. The first story, years ago, had been barely a page, and had been awkward to write. Benny, a bachelor who lived alone, found himself looking over his shoulder as he furtively scribbled it down. The plot had been simple. A woman walked into a salon and asked for her waist length hair to be bobbed. Now the plots had thickened and the stories had lengthened. Benny’s characters were likely to be tied up and gagged, and have their heads completely shaved, or be caught in a love situation where the man (mysteriously always called Benny) demanded that their long hair be reduced to a short crop, or buzzed.

The latest story was one of Benny’s more friendly ones, where the woman decided on the fate of her own hair. His character Crystal had broken up with her boyfriend and decided to change her life completely, starting, of course, with her hair. In minute detail Benny described how her waist length locks were caught in a tight ponytail, with the hairdresser’s big shears looming closer and closer, and Crystal feeling a pang of anxiety as she felt the first tugs of the blade against her hair. Then, of course, the clippers were produced and Crystal, her head on her chest, could only feel the decimation as they roared up the back of her head, leaving a quarter inch stubble behind them, but she could also feel a throbbing between her legs as she realised that having her hair sheared away was arousing her… Benny sighed with pleasure.

If only his report could be half as good!

Benny yawned. He’d been up till two a.m. finishing that bloody report. Trying to sound cheerful, he threw a sheaf of papers on Karen’s desk.

“Here you go, luv,” he said. “Hope you can read it. Any chance of having it by ten o’clock?”

In her early twenties, Karen put up with Benny and his ways – which from anyone else would have earned a sexual harassment suit – because he was basically a nice guy. He never minded when she had long lunches and he’d been really nice last week when her boyfriend Scott dumped her. Benny had taken her to the pub and got her sloshed and put her in a taxi to go home. She was astonished he hadn’t made a pass at her.

Karen took one look at the untidy wad of paper and groaned. “Oh, Benny! This is a mess!”

“Yeah, sorry, luv. I was up till the wee hours writing it. But I know you’ll make sense of it.”

“I’ll try,” Karen promised glumly. Sighing, she tossed her lush, long brown hair over her shoulders and switched on her PC.

As always, Karen skimmed the document to ascertain it was all in order. In this case, it wasn’t. Instead of the promised Future Developments section, there was an article called Crystal’s Crystal Ball.

Bemused, Karen started to read it. Slowly her hand crept to her mouth. “Oh, my God!” She had no idea Benny was so… weird. What kind of person would write about some woman getting her hair cut? Specifically, write in so much detail about a woman getting her hair cut so short. Could her boss… just possibly… get turned on by this? Karen read the whole thing through again, but this time drew some parallel lines between herself and Crystal. Crystal had just been dumped and decided on a major makeover. As a result, at the end of the story, she ended up with a man who loved her new look. The man was called Benny but Karen ignored that.

Karen ignored the beeping e-mail messages. Maybe she needed to change her looks, too. Maybe men only went out with her because of her long hair. What if she had short hair? Would she attract the kind of man who was more interested in who she was than how she looked?

Mindlessly Karen typed up Benny’s report. She was unsure what to do about his story, but finally decided to slip it privately into his briefcase when he went to the loo.

She put the finished report on Benny’s desk. “Okay if I have a long lunch today?” she asked.

Benny flicked through the report. “You’ve earned it. Sorry that was such a bugger to read.”

Heart thudding at what she was about to do, Karen slipped out of the office block at 12.30 and walked for ten minutes until she found a hairdresser, even better, one that said No Appointment Necessary.

The salon was busy, with clientele in for lunchtime trims. “Can you wait ten minutes?” asked a harried stylist, hands full of comb and hairspray.

Karen agreed, sitting awkwardly on the fake leather lounge in the window and feeling like a mannequin. She flicked through the books of hairstyles that lay on the coffee table in front of her, but none of them registered as being what she wanted.

Ten minutes stretched to twenty, and finally the stylist, wearing a name badge that said Cathi, came to her. “We’re ready for you now. Just a trim, is it?”

“No,” Karen said boldly, “I want it all cut off. Really short. With clippers.”

She could hardly believe she’d said it. Cathi couldn’t either. She held up a lock of Karen’s soft mane. “Are you sure? This must have taken years to grow.”

“I’m sure,” Karen said firmly, although part of her wanted to bolt back to the office, hair intact. “I want it a quarter inch long at the back and sides, longer on the top with a bit of a quiff at the front, and I want you to cut off most of my hair in a ponytail first.” Just like Crystal.

Cathi’s lips twitched. “Well, you certainly do know what you want. Come and sit down.”

Karen tottered to the chair on legs that were shaky from emotion rather than the spike heels she wore. Cathi fastened the cape around her neck and drew out, for the last time, the luscious sheaves of sweet-smelling brown hair, letting it drop heavily onto the cape.

While Karen watched her staring, big-eyed reflection in the mirror Cathi collected her tools and walked back to the station with a large pair of scissors, a comb, and a pair of clippers that still had tufts of hair from the last client sticking out from the guards.

Cathi combed all Karen’s hair back off her face, and fastened it firmly in a ponytail at the base of her neck. “Right, here goes.”

With that she picked up the scissors, grasped the ponytail firmly and began sawing through it. Karen could hardly believe what she was feeling as the coolness of the steel blades kept touching her neck. The knowledge that all her hair, the hair she’d treasured forever, was being lopped somehow aroused her. As she saw the remains of her hair bounce just under her earlobes in thick bluntness after the weight had been cut off, her body responded with an unbearable, wonderful tingling that Karen knew was the precursor to an orgasm.

Tug, tug. The scissors hacked studiously through her hair. In the mirror Karen could see Cathi’s lips twisted in concentration as she forced the scissors through the massive ponytail. Already her head felt lighter without the mass of hair, and as the last of it was cut and the ponytail dropped ceremoniously onto the styling station, both Karen and Cathi sighed with relief.

Karen tossed her head delightedly, looking at the ragged bob. “It feels really weird not having long hair,” she exclaimed.

“We haven’t finished yet,” Cathi promised, plugging in the big Osters and switching them on. Delicately she pushed Karen’s head forward.

Karen looked at her lap, clad in the silky cape, and almost trembled in anticipation as she heard the steady hum get closer to her head.

She closed her eyes, and felt the first touch of the clippers against her virgin neck. The hum turned to a growl as the Osters charged into her hair, buzzing it close. Karen felt them travel firstly up behind her right ear. In their wake, her skin felt cool.

She could barely breathe as Cathi buzzed her neck again, running the clippers up the back of her head. The feel of them – the gentle tugging – and the knowledge of what they were doing made Karen gasp. As carefully as she could she slid a hand under her mini skirt, feeling her wetness and seeking the hard little nub that would give her pleasure. It did, instantly, as Cathi revved the Osters straight up the middle of the back, all the way to the top.

Karen bit her lips in a silent, desperate orgasm, trying hard not to shudder or shake. It seemed to go on forever, long enough anyway for Cathi to finish clipping the back of her head and push the clippers up behind her ears again, sending the first thick clump of hair onto Karen’s cape-clad legs.

Karen gasped when she saw it. She had no idea that the hair left on her head had been that long, and it made her aware of how little there would be when Cathi had finished shearing her.

“Head up now,” Cathi said gently.

Karen was almost afraid to look in the mirror, but she could see little difference. The thick mass of hair still grew on each side of her head, and the top.

Until Cathi lay the clippers against Karen’s cheek and drew them up into her hair, with the useless locks tumbling over her shoulders to her knees and the floor. Karen saw her left ear exposed, a frail, pink little thing with no long hair to hide it. The hair left on her head, post-clipping, was so short it looked several shades lighter as the soft pink-white of her scalp showed through it.

Carefully Cathi buzzed around her ear, and the side of her head was shorn in a mere minute.

Karen was still turned on, comparing the buzzed, slick side of her head with the other, where the hair still grew in wild abundance.

She watched intently as the clippers slid up the side of her face, and the hair dropped heavily from the blades. Both sides of her head were bristling and tight now as her hair adjusted to its new length – or, more precisely, lack of length.

The soft swathes on top of her head were still long and full. Cathi changed the guard on the clippers to something longer, and began at her crown, pushing the clippers forward along the top of her head and sending clouds of hair in a snowfall over Karen’s face.

It felt so erotic, the tickling path of the clippers over the top of her head. Entranced, she watched as Cathi slowly and carefully mowed away the hair to leave a smooth pelt that sat on top of her scalp.

Taking up a razor, Cathi began to texturise the long quiff at the front, twirling it tightly then stroking the razor through it so it stood up in surprise from her scalp. Again and again the razor tugged pleasantly at her hair, ripping through it, leaving her hair in pointed, punky spikes.

“Is that what you wanted?” Cathi asked, looking at the beaming smile which had made its way across Karen’s face of its own accord.

“Oh yes,” croaked Karen, barely able to talk. She thought of Benny’s story, of how Crystal saw her completed new cut in the mirror, stark and modern and tough and beautiful. She knew exactly how Crystal felt.

“I’ll just fix the hairline for you.” Cathi snipped at Karen’s sideburns, cutting them into miniscule points that barely came below the tops of her ears. Taking up a smaller pair of clippers, she pushed Karen’s head forward again.

Karen felt the clippers hard against her skin, shaving her neck clean of every hair it possessed. Wetness welled between her legs and Karen bit her lower lip so hard she almost drew blood.

“Finished,” Cathi declared, brushing off stray hairs. “Now, a bit of gel in the top…” Artfully she tweaked Karen’s spikes till they stood up in a wild quiff.

The cape was whisked away. Karen’s hands were free at last and they wandered to her head, touching the almost shaven hair that was left there. Beneath her fingers she could feel the blood flowing through her scalp. It was the most erotic thing she’d had in months, if not forever.

“Brilliant,” she gasped, and fumbled money out of her wallet.

Clasping her shorn ponytail in a carrier bag, Karen stumbled back to the office. Her legs were still on strike from the orgasm she’d had in the chair. She crept back to her desk, hoping she wouldn’t meet any of the other staff just yet. Exclamations and questions about her new look were bound to – ha, ha – crop up.

From the rumble of his voice on the phone she knew Benny was in his office. She waited until she heard the familiar click of the telephone as he put it down, then, taking a deep breath, sauntered into his domain.

Benny’s jaw dropped and Karen had the feeling Benny’s dick rose. He positively gaped at her, staring disbelievingly at her exquisitely shorn, exquisitely shaped head.

“A present for you,” Karen said, taking the ponytail out of the bag and placing it on his blotter.

“I – I,” was all Benny could say. His hands scuttled up to the blotter and stroked the useless, cut off hair. “Why?” he managed.

“I read your story. About Crystal. It was in with your report. I thought it might be a good thing if I made a big change in myself too.”

“It’s an excellent thing,” Benny agreed shakily. “You look fantastic!” How he longed to touch her hair, her short hair, not the ponytail. How he wanted to feel that short stubble under his hands!

“Crystal’s story was inspirational in every way,” Karen said meaningfully.

“Er… really?” Benny gasped.

“Let’s just say I empathise with her totally. It was an amazing experience.”

Benny closed his eyes. It was true! He wasn’t alone! Clearing his throat, he said, “Would you like to tell me about it over a drink tonight?”

Karen looked at her boss. His own thick dark hair was clipped as short as her own at the sides. She wondered if it felt the same to touch. It might be fun to find out. She nodded.

The end

(c) Copyright Sabrina S, 2000 comments welcome to [email protected]


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