Honeymoon Suite Shave

The Honeymoon Suite Shave, or
Here Comes the Bride, There Goes the Hair – Da Marsh

A lot of my long-time friends wondered what I saw in Veronica. After all, I’m the owner/CEO of a small but growing software firm, built it from out of a rented warehouse, you get the idea. I’m more of the responsible, get-things-done kind of guy, they say. Veronica, on the other hand, was almost the complete opposite – she was a wild party girl, still living with her parents and living off the interest of a trust fund or two. Both her friends and mine thought that we’d break up in a few days, but the moment of our first date, things just clicked, somehow.

I first met Veronica at a hotel bar. Me and my employees were there celebrating the fact that our company just went public. I had to make a phone call, and my cellphone’s batteries were dead, so I went to the payphone. There she was, apparently calling a friend. She kept me waiting for a few minutes, talking to her friend about next week’s assignment in art class or something. When she hung up, she looked at me and said, “OK, the phone’s yours.” She then looked at the party and said, “Hmmm, a decent party around here, for once.” I said, “Thanks. It’s mine. The company I own just went public today.” I then introduced myself and told her a little about my company. She told me her name was Veronica, a grad student getting her MFA degree. While she was talking about her specialties, I was thinking, now that’s an appropriate name. She’s an inch or two above average height, and she definitely had the face, figure, and thick, shiny, jet-black, past the shoulder-length hair with bangs that reminded me of her comic-book namesake. In real life, she resembled Liv Tyler, only curvier. I also wondered if she had a blonde friend named Betty….

She asked me if it was a private party, and I said, “No, most of the employees brought their friends along, what’s one more? What the hell?” She said, “Sure.” I introduced her to the crew, we danced a little, we drank a little, we talked a little then she went to the bathroom.

Ron Kwan, one of my top code writers, said to me, “Man, Veronica must be really desperate for a party if she’s here.” I asked Ron about it and he said, “Oh, I’ve seen her around. She’s a trust fund babe, usually hangs out at the clubs with her set. I’ve seen her stuff, too. She’s a better partier than an artist.”

I replied, “Whatever,” or something like that. I thought little about it when she came back to the bar. We talked a bit more, we exchanged phone numbers, then we went our separate ways. When I came back to my place, I thought that she was OK, but I’d probably never hear from her again. OK, I was wrong.

She called me a week later, told me she bought a few shares of our company and made a bundle (we sold out a big shipment of our latest game), and she wanted to celebrate. I thought she was lying, but I said OK, we set the date, and I went to the places where she hung out. I wasn’t impressed with those places, but it was alright. Little did we realize it, but that date was the start of something big. We started to get to know each other (in every sense), and we started to become a couple. While Veronica still had her wild side, she started to work harder in class and saved up enough money to open up a small gallery after she got her degree. And while I’m still as responsible as ever at work, I’ve learned to lighten up outside of it. Then along came the start of another shared obsession we have; our hair fetish.

It started one morning at an executive meeting, when the question of raising money for a particular charity came along. We told the charity we’d do it, but the problem was figuring out how. At the spur of the moment, I made a suggestion. I giggled, “OK, how about if we raise $75,000, I’ll shave my head?” While we chuckled, we agreed, but then one department head after another said that they’d join me at the barber’s chair if we’d raise the money. Eventually, we raised $115,000, so at the first shareholder’s meeting, Veronica was there to see as the clippers, scissors, razors and shaving cream came out.

George, the head of accounting, kept his hair in a crew cut, so it didn’t take long for him to get smoothed out. Beth, head of shipping, had a nearly perfect head revealed underneath her mousey-brown shoulder-length bob. Ron, now head of development, looked like a Buddhist monk after his shave. Kevin, our production boss, went from a shoulder-length brown ‘do to a totally smooth head. That, plus his goatee and build, made him look like a pro wrestler. Audrey, the red-haired head of sales and marketing, was the one holdout on the board, but instead, she offered to get our company’s logo tattooed on the small of her back! Joan (our office manager)’s blue eyes looked bigger and her neck longer after her blonde mid-back pageboy hit the floor. Brian, our VP, was transformed from a slightly pumped-up Arsenio Hall lookalike to a slightly shorter Shaquille O’Neal lookalike after his shave.

Veronica was giggling and playing with her hair (now as long as Joan’s used to be) throughout the proceedings, and then Brian took the mic and said, “And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Here he is, the head of the company, soon in more ways than one, our founder and CEO!”

Veronica, who didn’t believe I’d do it, started laughing out loud and had her hands around her eyes when I came to the chair. “The Stripper” played in the background. Audrey cut the hair cape around my neck. Crowd members yelled, “Take it off! Take it all off!” The now dis-tressed board members took one stroke each with both the clippers and the razor. They even invited Veronica to take care of the middle strip of stubble that was my average preppie cut. After she did it, everyone applauded. some of the board members asked her to sit in the chair. She said no, and obviously they were joking, so not much was made of it when Veronica and I went back to our hotel room.

As she started to rub my head, she said, “I can’t believe it! You actually did it! But I don’t mind, really. It feels so smooth, like my legs and bikini line after I had them waxed.” To emphasize the effect, she rubbed one of her legs against one of mine when she said it.

When she stopped rubbing, she said, “Thank God they were only kidding when they asked me to sit down. I can’t believe what I’d look like, probably like Beth and Joan.” I blushed a little, knowing that she saw me staring at them after their shearings. “Yeah, I saw you staring at them, you naughty boy,” she said.

I replied, “Of course I did, so did you, remember? It was different seeing them like that. Besides, how can you not stare at a bald-headed woman?”

Veronica said, “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know if I could pull that look off, but on you, it works.” By the time we were naked and in bed, she was stroking my head again. Then she tossed the back of her ebony mane on my un-locked head and shook hers gently.

“Hey, it feels great at my end, too,” I said. After she wrapped her hair around my cock and played with both, I was ready to get it on – so we did.

After my shaving, I decided that Veronica was right, so I kept on shaving my head daily. I started to meet her old-money parents. While they were satisfied that for once, Veronica was dating someone decent, and that they liked that I was beginning to be a positive influence on her, whenever I left them alone I could hear them argue over something. When I asked her about it, she said that they wondered if I’m going to marry her or not. So the next time I visited her folks, I showed her the ring and popped the question. She couldn’t say yes fast enough.

Summer comes early where we live, so that about a month away from our June wedding, she said to me, “Man, I envy you in this weather. This ‘do feels like it’s on fire.”

“Well, I got some scissors and razors in the bathroom, if you really want to do it,” I replied.

“Thanks, but no. You wouldn’t believe what my mom pulled on me the day after you proposed. You see, I get all of my trust fund money after I marry you, but there’s a provision in there that says that my family, A.K.A. my mother, does all the planning. I’ve got to do everything her way. That means the ceremony, reception, the dress, and yes, my hair. She says I’m not to let anyone touch it until her stylist comes in the day before, otherwise, I don’t get a cent! And I need this money for MY new gallery. I wish I could shave it, though. It would be better than what I’d have to wear. At the opening – by the way, thanks for attending – you saw the looks those women with buzzcuts got. But after we get married, I’ll teach them a thing or two about getting attention!”

I said, “You’re welcome, and hey, she might run your wedding day, but she’s not going to run your wedding night (wink).” She understood.

June approached, and finally, the wedding day arrived. I didn’t see Veronica for two days before, since the last rehearsal, so when I saw her glide across the large cathedral aisle, I was glad that it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony! Veronica still looked cute, but her mom completely overdid it. Veronica’s gown was like an explosion in a lace and puffy satin mill. The bridal veil didn’t cover up a big upswept ponytail, the tail as curly as her mom’s stylist could get it. And when she lifted up the veil, it showed that her long bangs were just as curly. I had to suppress a giggle when I said, “I do.”

The ceremony and reception was a success, we signed the marriage certificate, Veronica signed all the necessary paperwork to get her trust fund money, and we were married. At the bridal shower the night before, her friends wondered what she would do with her gift “From her friends at the Gallery” – a set of clippers – but they shrugged their shoulders, thinking that she’d return them.

After I winked at Veronica a month earlier, I told her that when we got to the bed & breakfast for our wedding night, I’d go out for an hour or two. When I came back, she would be exactly as she was when she said, “I do.” I went out to get a tape player and some leg shaving gel, and two hours later, there she was. Pretty as a wedding gift. Ready for the unwrapping. On the bed was the clipper set, various razors, and two large pairs of scissors. She was standing on a bedsheet. Two camcorders with fresh long-life batteries were there, one turned on in front of her, one behind, both staring right at her. I put my things on the bed and said, “Veronica, do you approve of what I’m going to do to you?” She replied, “I do.”

I turned the tape player on. It played a continuous loop of “The Stripper”, just like at my first shaving. I gave her one pair of scissors, I kept the other in my hands and I stepped behind her, trying not block the back camera’s view. I gently pulled her curly ponytail, its end hanging down to the small of her back, its end in sight. I opened the scissors, bringing them to her waist level. Trying to keep in time with the music, I snapped the scissors shut. The cut end fluttered down to the sheet below. Veronica then took off her bridal veil, while I took off my jacket. Back to work, I snipped off her ponytail to mid-back length. She then pulled off her lace gloves, stopping halfway to cut the fingers off before she doffed them. After I took off my bow tie, I made sure that her ponytail was now touching the bottom of her shoulder-blades. Afterwards, she took her scissors and slit the sleeves of her wedding gown, then she cut them off at the shoulders and twirled them like a stripper. I was admiring her handiwork while I took off my cummerbund. Back to the action.

I cut the ponytail to shoulder length. As I then took off my shoes and socks off camera, Veronica cut off the lace bodice and collar with a devilish grin on her face. I cut her ponytail down to the nape of her neck. While I took off my cufflinks, she took her scissors and cut off the puffy shoulders from her gown. I then cut her ponytail in half, afterwards, she pierced her skirt with her scissors, then cut it off, the ruffled skirt flowing off to the floor. After I cut the ponytail to the top of her bun, she slid her crinolines off, revealing matching high-heeled shoes, stockings, garter belt, and old-fashioned frilly panties.

As Veronica undid her bun, I took off my shirt, then went around to her front and, trying to keep time with the song, snipped off each curly bang one by one. She then shook her head, hair flying every which way. Following that, she snipped off each back button one by one. The remains of her dress met the remains of her ponytail. While she was shaking loose, I plugged in the clippers, snapping on the longest guard in the set. When I came back behind her, I saw that she had a tightly-laced corset on. I started to buzz her with my clippers. When I was done, she unhooked her stockings from her garter belt while I took my pants off. With each buzz, the guards got shorter and shorter. With each buzz, her ebony mane got whiter and whiter.

As Veronica looked at the mirror, she said, “Well, I helped you to lighten up, now you’re doing the same to my head.”

With each buzz, she took off more: her stockings, her garter belt, her panties, leaving a matching G-string. After a buzz with the shortest guard on, she took her scissors to the front lacing of her corset. She snipped lace after lace, until the last one, when she sucked her chest in before she cut the lace. Her corset flew behind her, her creamy round 36D breasts exposed in front of the camera. Veronica then did the same to her G-string, revealing just a thin strip of pubic hair down the middle of her sex, as black as her head was. I took the guard off the clippers, not only going for one last buzz of her head, but that tantalizing strip pointing down between her legs. I then turned off the clippers and got out the shaving gel and a fresh Tracer FX razor, my personal favorite. I lathered up both her heads, and then the blades went to work, making sure that not a patch of stubble escaped. For the grand finale, Veronica did the splits, showing off her smooth pussy. I turned off the camera in front of her, and aimed it behind her toward the bed.

After taking off my underwear, I saw her on the bed, everything cleared away from it, and as she spread her legs apart, she said, “Ready for your first taste of married life?”

“I’m as ready as you are,” I said as I got into the 69 position. Needless to say, we didn’t sleep a wink that night.

The next day, my other present to her arrived at the B & B, just like I planned. It was a black human hair wig, the same length as her hair was when we first met. A little something to wear outside, as well as at our welcome home party. With the wig on and a tan, Veronica looks like Demi Moore in Striptease. Of course, when she strips it off, she looks like Demi in G.I. Jane.

We had the welcome home party at Veronica’s gallery. We wrote on the invitations to our friends that they’d get a surprise when mother-in-law left the party. So, after she left, Audrey asked Veronica, “Well, what’s the surprise?”

Melissa, the maid of honor, asked, “Hell, what happened to that wedding hairstyle?”

Veronica just ran her fingers through her wig and said, “Oh, I just gave it the honeymoon off,” as she lifted it off her head. “If you think that’s something, wait till you see the surprise. Hit it, honey!”

I turned down the lights as I turned on the nearby big screen TV, showing the edited copy of our “sniptease”. The copy of what we did afterwards? That’s something they don’t need to see.

That was three years ago. We’re still together, and still doing well at our respective businesses. During our first year, we shaved each others’ heads every day for four months, until Veronica decided that she didn’t like being bald as much as she liked getting bald. So we compromised and said that she’d only shave her head on our anniversary, and not until her hair gets back to the length she had when she met me. And that I’d grow my hair back to a buzz cut in time for the anniversary, too, so she can do the honors. She got hair extensions before our first anniversary, and for the last two, she wore a wig over a bald cap. Veronica says that she’ll let me shave her real hair on our five year anniversary, when it should get down to her butt! I don’t know about you, but I know one guy who doesn’t forget his wedding anniversary!

Thanks for reading this work of fiction. If you like it, and/or want to publish it, please E-Mail me at CEMarshII@Hotmail.com.. Permission granted to print or download one copy for private use only.

 

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