Shingled Up the Back

Shingled Up the Back – CutUps

Elizabeth Gedney fell into deep sleep, lights out as soon as her brunette head hit the pillow on Parris Island. This had been her first day back on The Rock since boot camp six years ago. Now, she was Sergeant Elizabeth Gedney, Marine Drill Instructor. Tomorrow afternoon, when the Greyhound roared in from across the bridge from Beaufort, SC, Gedney would get command of her first platoon…

Daylight appeared, although Elizabeth was still asleep. A woman, rather cute, actually, a Marine Sergeant with thick brunette waves to her elbows, appeared before Elizabeth’s eyes dressed in the day uniform, walking toward the beauty shop as if nothing would stop her. She sat in the chair in front of the stylist with the short buzz, even held up hair in her fist. The stylist caped her in pinstripes.

“Shingled up the back, short and tight, and clip it well off my ears. Big curls on top.”

The stylist fitted the two guard on big Osters.

“Got anything smaller?”

On went the Number One, and the clippers popped to life and vibrated with their buzzing. The stylist lifted hair in front of the woman’s left ear. The woman stared into the mirror, did not so much as blink as chunks of long hair slid down the cape and a short sideburn appeared.

Elizabeth Gedney sat up straight in bed. The woman under the cape was her.

A haircut? She hadn’t even thought about getting a haircut.

She relaxed and fell back asleep. Light of day appeared again behind her eyelids. The same pretty brunette woman stared into the mirror from the barber chair as the stylist bent her left ear and buzzed hair close around it. The stylist pushed the Osters up the side of Elizabeth’s head in the dream, then pushed her head forward and let the buzzing machine roar up her neck to her occipital. Sleeping Elizabeth moaned, in ecstasy. Clippers, buzzing like bees, touched the neck of Elizabeth in the dream. The Osters balked in low buzz, then the pitch of the buzz got higher as moving teeth appeared through the mass of hair and the stylist pulled them free. Sleeping Elizabeth moaned again and whet some of what made her the woman she was into her hand.

Sleeping Elizabeth awakened with a jolt and looked around the small room in the dark. On the cot across the room, the blonde corporal, her company clerk, did not stir.

Elizabeth washed herself off her hands, shaking her head. She turned to leave, then turned back to the mirror. She grabbed her hair into a ponytail, then let it go. “Nah.”

She went back to sleep, and the same woman, then with long hair hanging only from the right side of her head, appeared before Elizabeth’s eyes. Might as well see how this comes out. Sleeping Elizabeth was going to have this dream.

Clippers again. Buzzing again. Titillating Elizabeth into restlessness again, as she watched chunks of brunette float to a tile floor, and saw herself truly enjoying the experience.

The big clippers turned into little clippers, evening out a carpet of furry-like hair. Sleeping Elizabeth moaned and stirred again. The Elizabeth in the dream was washed, massaged in thick warm mounds of shampoo. Sleeping, dreaming Elizabeth moaned again. The experience had to be as arousing as a man’s gentle touch to her most private part. Before she knew, the stylist was unwinding hair from big rollers and blow-drying. Elizabeth in the dream pushed fingers through curls that bounced back where they had been and ran fingers up back and sides clipped to not much more than stubble. She could not take her eyes from the mirror as the stylist swept the cape away. Elizabeth with the short cut was… hot.

“You can wear this,” the stylist in the dream said.

“Yeah. I will be back.”

Sleeping Elizabeth settled into restful sleep, glad that was over. She’d gotten a no-risk peek at a drastic step, and… daylight appeared in front of her closed eyes. Dressed in the female Marine day uniform and cap, the same determined brunette in her twenties with waves to her elbows, held her hair up off her ears in a mirror and studied herself. Sleeping Elizabeth’s heart raced. Womanhood between her legs aroused. The Elizabeth in the dream sat in front of the same buzzed woman in the beauty shop on Parris Island, and held her hair up in a fist. Not again…

The bugler blew. Elizabeth Gedney popped out of her bed, saved by Reveille, and shook her head.

“You okay?” her corporal asked.

“Uh-huh.”

But Elizabeth had just spent the night getting sheared in her dream. She showered and dressed, unable to forget she’d been turned on, very aroused, by the weirdest dream she’d ever had. She brushed her hair in front of the mirror, then reached back to part it for the usual French braid. She pulled it up instead. Nice round cheeks and small round ears… this might not look half bad. And she couldn’t spend every night tossing and turning, turned on by a dream she’d never had before. To hell with it. She scrunchied the mass of long, thick hair and fit it under her soft cap. She even put on a tie. She was going for it.

Female boots ran past as Elizabeth stepped toward the salon next to her hut in her shiny black pumps. Good for her the beauty shop was next door. Any longer a walk, Elizabeth Gedney would think about the loud POP of the clippers and buzzing on her skin like bees in a swarm. Any longer a walk, she’d think about being trapped under a garment that would hide her, trap her in a chair at the mercy of someone who could leave Elizabeth Gedney bald if she wanted to, or worse, ugly. She shivered up her spine, froze steps from the door. Elizabeth Gedney could not move if the Commander In Chief ordered her to move.

“I don’t know, but I been told…”

Oh, no. Women on the morning run were coming, could see a woman in uniform just staring at the beauty shop door. Maybe she’d have to work with some of these Boots, Sergeants did have to teach in JT, Job Training, and these girls would know Elizabeth was the ONE, the Sarge who looked indecisive in front of the beauty shop, when Sergeants got to be Sergeants because they never let anyone see them be indecisive, anywhere. She was caught. If she got this haircut, and it didn’t look anything like in her dream…

“Eskimo boys get mighty cold!”

Forty boots were jogging closer. Elizabeth Gedney didn’t know what to do. The Elizabeth in her dream had been so sure of this. Why couldn’t she be as sure now?

Oh, for crying out loud. Why was she being such a wimp? She’d flown through thunderstorms. She’d had rifles fired within inches of her head. This was over just a little hair she really didn’t even want now that it was going to get hotter than hell in South Carolina.

She stepped inside the beauty shop and stopped as if she’d hit a wall. A woman clipped in a tight buzz oiled clippers. Was this real, or more of her dream?

Elizabeth tried to relax as she took the barber chair. She even didn’t take her eyes off the mirror. “I’d like a pixie, shingled up the back short and tight, well off my ears. Give me big curls on top.”

“You’re going to get a lot of hair cut with that.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth surprised herself how sure of this she was. Could the stylist see her sweat, hear her heart race?

“You’re a D.I., probably think that’ll make you look more disciplined.”

“Well, yes.” Elizabeth wouldn’t dare tell anyone about The Dream.

The stylist undid Elizabeth’s hair, watched it flow down to her elbows. “Lot of hair. Thick. We’ll take care of that now. Would you like to save a ponytail?”

For what? Elizabeth thought. She shook her head, relaxing a little at being about to get sheared.

The stylist let Elizabeth’s hair fall through her fingers, played with it was more like it. “I can shorten it a little at a time with scissors, but that way’ll take a while, considering how you said the word ‘short’. Or I can clip it quick with clippers.”

Elizabeth fidgeted under the cape. She grew a lump in her throat and swallowed. It was too late to back out now. “Cut it really short, with clippers. Just long enough so no skin shows up to the curls.”

Bigger than any she’d ever seen, the black clippers roared to life, buzzing like a gymnasium buzzer in her ear. The stylist lifted hair off Elizabeth’s left side with a comb and ran clippers over the comb. Vibrations ran through Elizabeth all the way to her teeth. Hair, hair, hair, sheared away and floated down the cape. Elizabeth’s ear had been bared. Chunks of long hair landed on tile in piles. Elizabeth the D.I. swallowed the lump in her throat again, but could not have ordered her eyes to move from the mirror.

Elizabeth watched the stylist slide clippers down to her ear, leaving short, short stubble from her sideburn to the back of her head. The contrast between clipped and long hair was almost not to be believed.

“Lower your head.”

Elizabeth obeyed, but still wanted to see. The stylist passed her a hand mirror. The stylist lifted and clipped away long hair from the nape to the occipital across the back of Elizabeth’s neck. Buzzing like the bees again, clippers shaving the neck to the skin up to the hairline made Elizabeth to moan for real. Elizabeth Gedney didn’t care if she looked like a monster after this. This haircut was stirring up stuff inside, driving her insane, like the Elizabeth in her dream. She hardly realized when the stylist had to lift her head back up and clipped the right side of her head, as short as the back and the left. Elizabeth could have clapped and jumped for joy, watching her right ear appear.

“You kind of liked that?”

Elizabeth coughed into her hand, regaining composure. “Yes, well, er… it was kind of different.”

“I could tell.” The stylist took up smaller clippers and trimmed Elizabeth’s back and sides to a quarter inch.

This was… SHORT, but Elizabeth fought not to ask if the stylist couldn’t go even a little shorter.

“I like clippers, too. They are kind of arousing, don’t you think?”

“Uh, yeah.” Elizabeth was a little disappointed that the stylist wet the hair on top and trimmed with scissors.

Aroused by circulating air tickling her ears, Elizabeth followed the stylist to the sinks across the salon. She sat, blown away by the mounds and mounds of long hair on the floor all the way around the barber chair. She cringed, a little embarrassed, too.

Tipped back at the mercy of another, having her scalp massaged in a thick pool of shampoo, had never felt so relaxing when she’d washed her hair and conditioned it herself. Maybe Elizabeth would splurge and let the stylist do it every time?

Another stylist came into the shop as this one wound Elizabeth’s trim on big rollers and squirted on the perming solution. “Don’t give many cuts like this anymore,” said Elizabeth’s stylist. “Now, it’s just blunt cuts or buzzes or braiding. Perm’ll be about twenty minutes.”

“I think a pixie with curls is timeless, so elegant. I’ve always wanted a haircut like this.”

It was twenty minutes, before the stylist unwound and dried curls, then took Elizabeth back to the baber chair for a final evening out trim. “You can wear this. I think you’ve found your look. Come back in about three weeks for a trim, six weeks for another perm.”

Sergeant Gedney did look more disciplined now, more serious to lead her first platoon of Marines. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman in the mirror as she paid for this transformation. “Write me down to get shingled up the back. Let’s even make them standing appointments. I’m definitely keeping this haircut.”

 

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