Straight Down the Middle

Straight Down the Middle by Ted Morgan Tedmorgan@webtv.net

Straight down the middle of her head the clippers ran. From forehead to crown and then down over that strange hidden world at the back of the head to the neck. Over and over again, in row after row, the churning clippers ran. Hair fell to the floor.

Each run erased even the memory of elegant auburn hair, once cut exactly right – just over the ears but above the neck. Falling to the floor, auburn hair transposed from an elegant expression of her person to only debris.

However, the touch of roaring clippers running – without even the lowest-numbered guide – from forehead to crown and then down the back of the head – exposed the tender skin of her scalp to an unwavering rush of sensations. Little flecks of warmth flashed up and down her neck. Touching nubs of auburn hair triggered hard nipples and flows of blood to harden the realm of Venus.

Louise wondered why she had waited to do what she wanted to do. She thought that her hairdresser took as much interest in this shearing as Louise did. Maybe, maybe not.

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Hot towels transferred moisture to nubs of hair – auburn nubs. The heat of hot towels warned the tracing of thrills raging up and down her neck. Hot lather rubbed slowly into her scalp quickened the imagination Louise celebrated.

The hairdresser now made barber took a straight razor and slowly stropped it just like an old-time barber preparing to shave someone’s neck after a haircut. Well, the hairdresser was about to shave not only Louise’s neck but her still raw, naked scalp.

Scrap by scrap in tiny strokes the little scrapings of the razor, repeated over and over, bit by bit, reduced the nubs to nothing. Rendered bald, Louise enjoyed her first bald hairwashing. It took a lot of lather to clean her bald head, more than it had taken to wash her hair. That was a surprise.

Then her hairdresser applied lotions to Louise’s gray head in order to shine her head to glistening bald. Finally, her hairdresser handed Louise a hand mirror. “Wow!” Louise thought. “Why did I wait so long?”

When she applied makeup to emphasize eyes, brows, and lips, Louise felt exotic, free, and sexy. That weekend Louise drove to the coast and walked alone in mist.

A little shower reminded her that her head felt cold, exposed as it is without cover to rain. Sitting in coffee shops and writing on her laptop, Louise tried to describe the sensational feelings she felt, while from time to time, her hand ran over her bald head. Men younger than she noticed. With approval, they pointed their lovers gazes toward Louise, who returned smiles and entered conversations. The lovers looked skeptical but liked the way Louise looked.

Her hair would soon return at the end of summer. The real world of profession ruled. She thought, “Why had I waited so long?”

It had just never before crossed her mind. Now it had. As Anais Nin wrote, “Work from the dream out.” What is your dream this fine summer morning?

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