Letter to Moscow

Letter to Moscow

Letter to Moscow – DLBARGRILL

Christian had been in Moscow for almost five months. At first the idea had enormous charm. He was being sent to the legendary Russia, home of the Czars, Bolsheviks, and all that. It was going to be another world for him.

And the challenge. That was going to be the best part. He had seven months to set up the Moscow office for his employer, a big phone company. When he got the nod for this assignment, he was excited.

Now, he was resigned to misery. Winter had set in and he found out the same thing that so many others had, Russia is miserable in winter. The people were depressing, the city was cold, and he needed bribes just to get the smallest thing done. He was behind schedule and the bosses back home were unhappy.

That wasn’t the worst of it though. He desperately missed Amy.

Christian knew when he took this job that he would only be able to see her once during his time abroad. That had been his brother’s wedding three months ago. The only contact he had with her was phone calls and videotapes. The phone calls were limited to weekends because their schedules and the time difference meant weekdays were out.

So they sent each other video letters. Just seeing her face and hearing her voice meant so much to Christian. She was a sense of reality in an unreal place.

Christian opened the Express Mail envelope with great anticipation. He blew off drinks with the guys to come home to his tiny apartment and watch the video. Everyone had their favorite after work activities, some with a local exotic flavor, but this was Christian’s favorite. The guys accused him of being a stick in the mud, but he didn’t see a negative in loving his girlfriend.

Christian read the card. “I hope this finds you well.” It always said that. Amy wasn’t much of one for writing: she saved her news and sexy talk for the video. She was a ham on the video. He almost didn’t notice the additional words. “I’m not sure if you’ll be happy with this, but it was something which just happened.”

Hold on. What was this? The card shouldn’t read like that. She always wrote the same thing. What was this all about?

There was only one way to find out. He popped the video in.

There was Amy, standing outside her apartment building on a sunny day. Where Amy lived they didn’t have winter, at least the winter where it got cold. She wore a short sleeved shirt and was laughing.

“Hi, honey. I know you didn’t expect to get another video from me so soon. I hadn’t even started working on a new video yet. I’ve been busy at the office. I know you haven’t met my new friend Monique, she’s behind the camera. Nod to Christian, Monique.”

The camera shook in what must have been Monique nodding.

Now the video cut to Amy driving her car. “Okay, Monique and I are driving now. We’ve been talking, Monique and me, and we decided we’re going to the hairdressers. I know how much you love my hair, but I guess with you not here I don’t hear it that much. Feeling a little flighty right now.”

The video cut to an empty salon chair. “Hi Christian. I can’t wait until we get a chance to meet,” a strange, yet sexy, female voice said. “I hope you don’t hate me. Amy is just so depressed without you here. I took her to the spa the other day for a massage and facial and she felt better. I think this will do the trick.”

What was going on here? Christian loved Amy just the way she was with long red hair a couple of inches longer than her shoulders. She knew that. He wished she’d let it grow even longer.

The video cut again and there was Amy. Cute, petite Amy with all her lovely long hair pushed forward. It was wet and Christian smiled. He always told her she looked like a drowned puppy with her hair all wet like that. He couldn’t see Amy’s face; there was so much hair in front. Maybe it wasn’t Amy.

The camera swung around back and Christian gasped. Instead of Amy’s long hair, all he saw was a short fringe just below the occipital bone.

“I just trimmed off a few split ends,” the hairdresser joked. Christian didn’t think that was funny. All of Amy’s hair was going as the hairdresser put the scissors over the comb and clipped the hair shorter and shorter at the fringe. By the time he was done, it was almost stubble.

Satisfied with the results, the hairdresser undid the clips holding the hair forward and brushed some back. In the few moments between him taking the clips out and putting them back in a few inches forward, Christian almost saw her face. He still couldn’t tell if it was Amy. As long as he couldn’t see her face, it wasn’t.

Carefully the hairdresser took some hair and snipped off about 16 inches of hair. Then he repeated the chore, snipping the same amount all the way across. This section was a quarter inch shorter than the previous line.

Again the hairdresser undid the clips. This time Christian saw her face. It was Amy. Christian’s eyes dropped. That’s her profile. Why were her eyes closed? Why couldn’t she look at him? The hairdresser once again snipped straight across, letting 16 inches of locks fall to the floor.

The process repeated. This time the hairdresser took out the clips and put them on the table. He brushed all the hair back and Amy looked at him. She gave a low moan as if she was enjoying the hair brushing. Christian rewound the tape just to find out. Yes. She moaned. She was enjoying this.

From the front, her hair didn’t look any different than it ever had. She still looked like Amy.

And then she wasn’t. The hairdresser again cut the hair in the back a little above the last line. There was no length left. The hairdresser put the comb under the right ear and cut nearly a foot and a half of hair below it. The snick, snick, snick went so slowly as Amy’s precious hair fell to the floor.

He asked her a question about her part. That’s my part, Christian thought. He mentioned that her hair doesn’t want to part on the left side. Of course that’s where it parted. What was he talking about? What was he doing? He was changing the part. That was wrong.

With the new part, he combed more hair over the right side and cut all of the soft, luscious hair off.

“Who’s the videotape for?” the hairdresser asked.

“My boyfriend,” were Amy’s first words. “Christian.”

The hairdresser stopped for a moment and looked into the camera. “You’ll love her with short hair. This will look so much better on her.” What? How could he know? Who was this guy? He didn’t know Amy.

He combed hair over the left side and neatly snipped straight across a little under the left ear.

And that was it. Almost all the hair was gone. There were some remaining long locks, but the hairdresser didn’t seem to care. What was he doing, leaving Amy with them?

The hairdresser brushed Amy’s hair back and started blow-drying. Amy was smiling. She seemed to be really enjoying this. It was almost erotic. He blew the hair forward so it fell on her cheeks just below Amy’s lips. Christian never noticed how cute Amy’s lips were. Was she wearing some new shade of lipstick? And her eyes. Were they always so piercing? The blow-drying finished and the short bob started took shape. Satisfied where the remaining hair fell, the hairdresser trimmed off the last of Amy’s long hair.

After brushing off stray hairs, the hairdresser took the cape off. Monique did a 360 tour around Amy, showing the hair just under her ear on the sides, the almost buzzed nape fringe in the back and the hair framing her face in the front.

Amy got real close to the camera. “I hope you love it, honey. There’s a lock of long hair in the bottom of the box.”

Christian steamed. How dare she cut off that wonderful hair? He loved her hair. She looked awfully cute with the bob showing off her face, though.

Christian rewound the tape and watched it again.

 

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