I Know What You Want

I Know What You Want

I Know What You Want by Sabrina S

Lucy had always worn her hair long. Always. It hung in shining brown sheaves down her back, ending between her shoulder blades. She could wear it in a French roll, a chignon, a braid, or, more often than not, just a ponytail to keep it out of the way. Every eight weeks she walked to the hairdresser’s three blocks away for a trim.

This Saturday morning her hairdresser’s was busier than usual. Hair lay on the floor in unswept tumbleweeds. Mothers supervised their sons getting crew cuts or their daughters getting a trim. Several clients sat engrossed in magazines in stages of foils or perms. Lucy sighed and took a chair in the waiting area. Her appointment was for eleven but it looked like being nearer twelve. Penny, the girl who regularly cut her hair, was using clippers to reduce the hair on a crying toddler to blond stubble.

“If you shave it,” the toddler’s mother was saying, “I won’t have to put him through this so often. He’ll only need a haircut every six months.” Penny wore a dubious look on her face. The little boy had beautiful fair curls. Shrugging, Penny turned on the clippers, got a firm grip on the child’s head, and laid the clippers against the boy’s scalp. Lucy gazed, fascinated, as the gorgeous curls dropped to the floor and the child’s face turned red with tears and fury.

She enjoyed visiting the hairdresser’s, and got surreptitious pleasure out of watching clients get their hair cut, especially if it was a radical move from long to short. She was ashamed to admit it gave her a sexual buzz – this wasn’t something she’d tell anyone though, as she thought she obviously had some kind of psychiatric problem for having what seemed to be a hair fetish. Not that she ever planned to do anything radical herself. She shook back her long hair languorously and buried her nose back in Vogue.

“Hi, I’m Michael, I’ll be doing your hair today,” a cheery voice said from above her. Lucy looked up to see a stunning young man with a stylish short taper cut streaked blond on top. She hadn’t seen him in the salon before.

“Penny usually looks after me,” Lucy replied.

“She has to leave early today.” Michael sat down beside her and picked up a lock of hair, running his fingers through it and upwards to her scalp. It made her tingle. “What do you want to do with this?”

“I usually just get a trim,” Lucy said, astonished at the feeling Michael’s hand gave her. She found herself saying, “But I’m open to suggestions.”

Michael held her chin with one hand and brushed her hair back from her face with the other. “You’ve got great bone structure. If you leave your hair loose it’s hidden. If you tie your hair back like this -” he gripped it into a ponytail “- it looks flat and harsh. I know what you want. What about a short bob?”

“How short?” Lucy said dubiously, feeling cold inside.

“Oh, about chin length,” Michael advised. “It’ll have lots of swing and body. Trust me.”

Famous last words, thought Lucy as Michael washed her hair and gave her a scalp massage that almost sent her sliding off the seat it was so good. His fingers, longer and harder than Penny’s, were wonderful on the top of her head.

Heart thudding, she sat in front of the mirror and let Michael pin the cape around her. A short bob? Was she crazy? Twenty-three years of long hair and just because this guy had great hands she was going to let him cut it off? Suddenly Lucy realised that was EXACTLY what she wanted. She could feel herself getting wet between the legs at the thought. SHE WANTED HER HAIR CUT.

Michael pinned the heavy, wet hair on top of Lucy’s head, combing out the section at the back he was going to cut. Gently he pushed Lucy’s head forward. She felt a thrill as the scissors touched her neck. Christ, he was cutting it short! The scissors, cold and heartless, were running along her hairline at her nape. Suddenly her neck felt bare and naked. Michael turned away to talk briefly to another cutter and Lucy touched her hair. It was barely a quarter inch long at the hairline. Gulping, she realised there really wasn’t any turning back.

Michael swiftly cut the back of her hair to a graduated bob at the back. Lucy tried not to look at the inches of hair falling away from her head, but she was mesmerised, half hating it, half enjoying it, turned on sexually.

Michael moved to the right side of Lucy’s head and pinned up most of her hair, then cut the first layer to her jawbone. Lucy’s lap started to fill with hair as the right side was completed, the scissors sounding loud in her ears. She looked odd with one side of her hair long and the other almost a foot shorter.

“Looking better already,” Michael murmured, starting on the left side, combing her beautiful hair carefully then cutting it off. “You’re going to look great with short hair,” he assured her, running his hands through her new bob before blow drying it.

Lucy, seeing a being in the mirror with huge eyes and bouncy short hair, could hardly believe herself. She felt no regret at seeing most of her hair lying on her knees or the floor. She was beautiful, the duckling who’d turned into a swan.

“One more thing.” Michael bent her hair forward again, and picked up the clippers. They were fitted with the shortest guard possible. He turned them on. Wondering what on earth he was about to do, Lucy tensed.

Michael laid the buzzing blades against her neck. “I’m just going to shave your neck so it looks neat,” he said, grinning at the expression on her face. “Don’t worry, I won’t shave your head.”

Lucy grinned back, then realised as she felt the clippers that she just maybe wouldn’t mind feeling them go right up the back of her head instead of stopping at the hairline. Having her neck shaved was wonderfully intimate, something nobody had ever done to her before. She writhed in pleasure, enjoying the sound of the clippers and the warmth of them against her skin.

“All done. You look fabulous.” Michael dusted her neck and face, and Lucy stood up, tall and elegant, and tossed her head, loving the feel of it and the lightness it gave her. She’d never realised her long hair felt so heavy. She’d never grow it again.

* * * After that Lucy was conscious of her hair growing even a quarter of an inch. Now she went back for a trim – with Michael; Penny was ancient history – every four to six weeks, loving the feel of the scissors at her hairline and, even better, the clippers on her neck.

Michael noticed she enjoyed the clippers after a couple of visits. “I know what you want,” he said suddenly, when he’d dried her hair and clipped her neck clean. “Do you trust me?”

He ran a hand through her shiny hair, and it felt warm on her scalp. She nodded, wondering what he was about to do. She watched him change the guard on the clippers to something else, and then pick up a comb.

He regarded her. “You’ll enjoy this, I think. And it’ll look great.” He pushed her head forward until her chin was almost against her chest. He held the comb in her hair halfway up the back of her head, and turned on the clippers. Slowly, slowly, he brought the clippers to the back of her neck, then, to Lucy’s amazement, pushed them up through her hair to the comb. She felt a rush between her legs as her hair was clipped.

Michael grinned at Lucy’s wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. “I said to trust me. Feel your hair. Go on.”

Lucy wriggled a hand out from under the cape and felt the bit he’d attacked. Jesus H. Christ, it was short! Not half an inch long, maybe just over a quarter! She couldn’t even run her fingers through it! But it felt like a velvet pelt, all silky, like the coat of a pug dog. She nodded, running her hand up and down the clipped path. “Mmm. Keep going.”

Michael needed no encouragement. Lucy closed her eyes as the clippers came close again and touched her neck then…aaaah… they were singing through her hair, making the back of her head feel naked.

Was there anything more intimate than a haircut, Lucy wondered, feeling vulnerable as Michael gently bent her ear forward and clipped behind it, the machine loud in her ears. She watched her beautiful bob turn into a short wedge, almost a bowl cut, and reflected sex never felt as intimate as Michael’s hands holding her head and positioning it as he pushed the clippers against her skin.

Her right ear, for the first time since she was a baby, was exposed. Lucy watched as Michael brought the clippers up against the side of her face and locks of hair fell onto her knees, fluffy and shiny.

It seemed no time at all and Michael was wetting down her hair, doing a trim here and there with the scissors, and Lucy was done. She brushed her fingers up and down the back of her head, adoring the feeling of her newly-mown hair. She’d never been so turned on in her life and was almost afraid to move from the seat in case other clients could see the effect her haircut had on her – almost glazed eyes, parted lips, and a vagina that was throbbing so hard it must be visible through her jeans.

“You look sensational,” Michael said sincerely, running his own hands through the stubble at the back of her head. “Have you got a boyfriend?”

“No,” Lucy admitted.

“Can I see you tonight, then, before anyone else muscles in? You look so good with your hair short men will be queuing to date you, and I’d like to get in first.”

***

Lucy and Michael saw a lot of each other in the next few weeks. They enjoyed the same movies, music and food, and Lucy discovered she wasn’t the only person in the world with a hair fetish. Michael adored cutting hair and having his own cut short. He hated bristles on the back of his neck and asked Lucy to shave them for him nearly every day. They usually both got so turned on when Lucy lathered Michael’s neck and drew the razor around his hairline that they ended up in bed, caressing each other’s heads and exploring each other’s bodies in rapturous delight.

They washed each other’s hair in the shower, and Michael blow-dried the top of Lucy’s head, where her hair was still a few inches long.

Lucy watched in the salon as Michael had his taper transformed into a flat top by one of the other stylists, a man called Blair who preferred working with a barber’s chair. She sat next to Michael and shared his excitement as Blair clipped his hair and the long hair on top fell over Michael’s shoulders. The bristles that were left had no blond left in them. Blair drew the clippers up the back and sides of Michael’s head again and again till the hair was so short Michael’s white scalp was visible where the hair grew finest. Michael had had a fringe down almost to his eyebrows, and Blair quickly removed it, holding it with the comb and clipping it short. Michael had a beautifully shaped skull, and Blair made the most of it, buzzing Michael’s head again and again until the shape was perfect and Michael’s haircut was so sharp you could get a paper cut from touching it.

“Gorgeous,” breathed Lucy, rubbing her hands over Michael’s head. “God, that feels wonderful!” She hugged him and felt his arousal. Michael, grinning, pulled his shirt out and left it hanging outside his jeans so other clients couldn’t see his erection. He bent his head forward so Lucy could caress the top and had to stop himself from groaning as he felt her fingers on the sensitive crown of his head. Michael returned the favour, running his fingers through Lucy’s crop.

“I know what you want,” Michael murmured, and Lucy caught her breath in anticipation.

Michael led her to the barber’s chair in the front window of the salon. “Sit down and enjoy this,” he whispered in her ear, an ear she felt would be even more exposed to the world by the time Michael had finished with her. Her heart thudded as he drew the cape around her neck and fastened it. He combed out her hair, drawing it off her face, then tousling it. “Have a good look,” he grinned. “Last chance.” Lucy caught her breath, and grinned back at him in the mirror.

She watched as Michael chose a number four clipper guide. His warm hand pushed her head forward, and the clippers buzzed and snarled as Michael approached her head.

Slowly, so bloody, annoyingly, slowly, Michael drew the clippers against her skin. He ran them sensuously up the nape of her neck, and kept going, up, up, through her hair, all the way to the crown, where the clippers felt so good Lucy almost had an instant orgasm. Thick locks of brown hair fell forward onto her cape, and then the clippers were mowing another path up her head, reducing her hair to a length so short it looked several shades lighter. Wordlessly Michael hummed the clippers up behind her ears, moving Lucy’s head so she could watch in the mirror. The clippers sounded loud, shrieking and buzzing their way through the thick hair around Lucy’s ears. He ran his hands through her hair then clipped up the sides, making Lucy’s already big eyes widen as the thick wedge of hair that used to swing when she shook her head was cut to a crew cut and fell in tufts on her shoulders and knees. Finally he got to the top. Lucy had a thick fringe, too, which Michael had cut so it swung over one eye. In an almost arrogant gesture Michael ran his fingers into her fringe, lifted it away from her head, and joyously buzzed the clippers through it and back over the top of her head. Lucy closed her eyes in absolute delight then hastily opened them so she wouldn’t miss the last of her hair getting taken off. She estimated there were two more runs with the clippers across the top of her head and she intended to thoroughly enjoy both of them. The clippers felt great on top, relentlessly reducing her hair to a short pelt, almost tugging at it, then that heavenly release as the hair was cut and disposed of, flicked off down Lucy’s back to the floor. She could sit here all day having her head clipped closer and closer, Lucy thought as she watched a swathe being cut down the very middle of her scalp. With a flourish Michael brought the clippers to her forehead for the final time, then drew them up through her hair and along the top of her scalp, flicking the silky brown hair to the ground. He buzzed over her head, ensuring all her hair was cut off evenly, clipping over her nape area two or three times. Then he picked up the scissors and trimmed her minute fringe so it curled over the top of her forehead, and cut the hair in front of her ears to points. Finally Michael picked up shaving cream and a razor, and addressed the back of Lucy’s neck. She heard rasping as he shaved around her hairline; the razor felt great on her skin. At last Michael removed the cape and dusted Lucy down, showing her the back of her newly shorn head in a mirror.

Lucy looked entirely different, almost alien, almost like a young boy, her small ears close to her head and her green eyes suddenly huge. She felt vulnerable but also liberated.

“Only the most beautiful women can get away with a crew cut like that,” Blair said approvingly, admiring Michael’s handiwork. “You could even get away with a total shave with those eyes.”

A fleeting vision of herself with that healthy, shiny long hair flew into Lucy’s mind, but she dismissed it with a laugh, running her hands joyously over her brown, stubbly, wonderful velvet crew cut. A total shave? She wondered if she would if Michael said in her ear, “I know what you want.”

 

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