Time To Share

Time To Share

Time to Share…

You are all sharing your ideas, thoughts, loved ones’ reactions and adventures, so I should share one with you. No, not one of my haircuts, I expect you are bored with mine by now, but a friend’s. Last Thursday. Working on the theory that if it drove me mad with lust, it just MIGHT titillate you…

I flew back home Thursday (No, sorry Mach, Delta) and had only a carry-on wardrobe and my giant blue and red leather purse I bought in Mexico. Using a sticker I was up-front. So I was number two or three off the plane and led the pack to the tiny smoking area. After 2 & 3/4 hours I was ‘gasping’ and was soon sucking down gratefully, contaminating my lungs further, and polluting the legally protected air of MCO – Orlando International Airport. When I had stopped shaking and fretting, I wandered back towards the gate – people were still offloading! – as the bank of payphones would be quiet as everyone was dashing off to the trains for baggage, and I called Michelle. No answer. No problem. She had only said she was hoping to meet me and she could be late, at the terminal or even, more likely with Mich, just arriving. I went towards the trains, humping my bag. The trains are silvery-glass tubes, set in pairs, opening both sides to let passengers off, and on, in turn. Like many ‘locals’ who use the airport for long, tiring, business trips I have a small bubble of resentment for tourists – those whose money actually keep my city beautiful – but they do block, dawdle and clog my way home! So, like a handful of other local Frequent Flyers, I crossed to the off-load side of the first arriving train and was boarded and already standing at the fastest exit position as the on-doors opened for the latest crowd of ‘snowbirds’ streaming onto the train. Delta has a nice new terminal, very spacious and cool, with ‘people-movers’ to the front of the terminal with broad walk-ways fronted by stores for Disney & MGM and others, including a neat barber shop. My usual nosy, lusting, longing look showed it was empty, but I had once had a quick trim there from the barber and he looked up over his specs and grinned at me as I drifted past. The walkways and escalators disgorge you into a huge atrium… a stunning new addition to our airport as it houses a complete 11-story hotel – so it’s bigger than the one you know from your local mall! Still no Michelle. Now I was getting worried – it’s so big we could never connect, unless she thought I’d checked bags so was waiting at the baggage-claim. I crossed to the escalators to go down to the lower levels to find her, just as I heard her calling my name. When I turned round – no Mich. Again my name and a frantic “Coooeeee” from above. There she was, sitting grinning over the balcony of the upper-level restaurant, bright and bubbly as ever. She called that I should go up and, with a weary hump on the shoulder straps, I hopped the escalator up to the bar area. Less shy than even just a year ago, I still blushed when she kissed me in front of the barman though. I guess it could look innocent, but the second one… no mistaking that!

She had an iced draft already waiting for me on the bar, knowing that a flight dehydrates me, especially if I have been into the Scotch… and as she was driving me home, I had had one or two or…! Nicely mellow after the beer and the chatter of the week’s events I asked what made her decide we would stick around the airport, instead of our usual dash home. She said we were staying for a while yet, very mysterious and teasing and I flushed… she was plotting! I suddenly lost my tiredness. I even felt younger! I love surprises anyway, so did not ‘spoil’ this one by asking anything more about it for about… oh seven seconds. I was hushed and a ‘Black-Rocks’ was ordered for me. So I sat like a good little girl and supped it. Mich had obviously been early as she was on first name terms with the guy on bar, and he was teasing her about something they had been chatting about earlier. She was actually flirting a bit with him and I must admit I enjoyed the little bubble of jealousy that popped up into my gut. Felt nice to care. Felt proud she was attractive, was with me … you know. She had on one of my favorite outfits, from Burdines, a lemon wide belted shirt-waisted dress of linen, and flats to match, her dark hair shiny and tempting to touch, all glossy, clean and… you know that too! I had just one more – honest – and Mich swigged her iced tea, keeping the lemon wedge in her mouth as usual. She can never dispose it afterwards in a ‘lady-like’ manner, and tries coyly dumping them into tissues – but in the end she lands up having to spit them, accurately I might add, into the trash basket somewhere. Humping my bags I followed her across to the car. I was a bit giggly in the fresh air (well, relative – it was still in the 80’s despite being nearly nine o’clock). We had a little cuddle in the car, but still would not tell me what she was plotting as we paid and joined the madding crowd of tourists heading for Kissimmee and the ‘Worlds’. She was telling me about some of our local news as we pulled off the Interstate at Church Street Station – a local tourist spot that we locals actually use too. Still mysterious, she locked my bags in the car and we strolled up through the crowds on the cobbled street. Then I saw her. Mich cleverly positioned me so I caught the full glory. One of the barmaids who we knew from way back was working the sing-along bar, dressed in the short black-mini, fishnet tights, high-heels, a ‘French-Maid’ apron and lace cap. She usually wore her hair in a ponytail, saucily swinging from under her maid’s cap. Now there was not enough to move, let alone swing. The top was not that short. The sides were not bald, nor the back. But they had been clipper-shaved all the same length, up to the two or three inch thatch on top, with no guides but, probably, the teeth extended to MAX. So, shorter than a #1. It looked deliciously fresh – you know how that is. Sharp, shining and clean somehow, the scalp still white and surprised, the dusting of bristles still harsh. When my heart started again I gasped. A hot surge flooded through my loins. I wanted her. I longed to feel it, to cup her nape in my palm, to rub the sharp stubble. In my lusting I was mesmerized, and we strolled into the bar, me following in a daze. Michelle’s tiny form seemed to part the crush of drinkers effectively and we got a square foot of one of Linda’s tables. I think my mouth was open as Mich yelled at her for two beers (I’d spend all night peeing at this rate!). Linda was grinning at me and said something I could not hear because of the jazz band. She leant closer and I almost kissed her. She was asking me if I liked it. She always was dumb. She knew anyway, I guess, because as she turned away she was ‘strutting it’. My face gave it away I’m sure, slack-jawed and lusting eyes… a little drool of spittle perhaps! Michelle now told me she was the one who had sheared her. I did not know whether it was going to be my excitement or my jealousy that answered first, but then she deflated me with the news that Linda was coming home with us to get the top crew-cut tonight. I was very quiet for a long while. I had so many questions that I landed up not being able to voice any of them. So I just sat – open-mouthed still, I think. I kept thinking of Linda’s hair as it was. How long it must have been. Bitch-Mich of course was reading my mind as usual and grinning. She bent down and opened her purse under the table. She looked at me, put her finger to her lips in the SHHH gesture and nodded at her purse. There on top was a ribbon-tied lock that must have been 14″ or more. I nearly wet myself. Mich just shook her head when I made a lunge for it, her purse snicking shut. Linda was back with the mugs and teasing me by turning her head around so I could see the shaved scalp under the lace. I yelled how did her employer feel about it. She put her mouth to my ear (me nearly swooning at getting her clipped head this close) and yelled back she was fired! It was why, Mich told me, she was getting the rest cut off, like she had wanted to in the first place. But to be fired for it! Still, it was a tourist place, and she was supposed to be a 1920’s French Maid… in a crew-cut? Apparently though, they had found her another job ‘in back’, but no tips there of course. I felt a bit guilty about my wigs, my way of avoiding the issue in my job. Chicken. Where were my principles, my stiff upper lip – under my loose, flabby chin no doubt! Having worked since 10 that morning, Linda was back in her jeans and T by the time we finished the beers, and, after a quick trip to the ‘loo’ for you know who, we left.

As we had the hood down on the way back, I pulled off my work-wig and Linda and I enjoyed the contrast of two crop-blondes’ tufts stippling in the air with Michelle’s dark curls swishing away from side to side. Linda was excited about getting a crew cut, not I think sexually, just an inner devilment. She said she had fallen in love with her short hair, loved to sit reading or watching TV while rubbing her bristling neck, and was looking forward to sitting there running her hand over the top and feeling it flick up after her fingers passed… you know. We went to Mich’s and when she turned on the light Linda gave a “Cooo” of surprise. Mich has an old barber chair, from Mount Dora’s antique fair, as a ‘conversation’ piece… it gets a lot of use now she is with me! Linda skipped across and plopped into it, the poor old thing creaked as she wriggled her buns into the seat. Mich got us ALL ice tea (obligatory for me by then apparently!) and we heard about the various reactions Linda had gotten through the week, from parents – disgusted horror, from her boss – fired (at least transferred outta sight!) and then… her boyfriend. He was furious. Usual taunts about being weird, lez, kinky… usual stormy rejection, and then… what to us in the ‘know’ of the Hair Affair… the usual insatiable lust and the best sex yet! He cannot leave it alone it seems, touching it all the time. Linda was grinning mischievously, she had not told him she was getting Mich to ‘finish it off’ and he was working until midnight. He was due another (delicious) surprise tonight!

Michelle used a pink satin curtain to wrap her in. I sat wriggling and squirming with Mich. throwing me warning looks. Linda has a typical blonde, blue-eyed complexion. The pink was great on her. Mich had brought home her big clippers and the guides. She clipped on the number 2 and turned on the clipper. We all jumped at Linda’s shriek, then giggled as she explained she had wanted to do that the first time, but as it was in the shop she had just ‘pissed myself’. She was, it seems, quiet genuinely frightened of the clipper and its noise. Good. Great for me… you know too right! Mich turned them back on and that lovely humming chatter turned me back on. She peeled off the rather sudden step in length around the perimeter of Linda’s hair. Linda protested that she wanted a mirror to watch. Denied, motion seconded and carried. She played with the first big clump Mich took off the sides, rubbing the tufts in her fingers in her sheeted lap, muttering about a mirror still. Mich teased her as she changed to the number four, telling her she would get one when she had finished. I very casually stood up and got close behind them as Mich peeled off most of the hair on top with two or three shearing runs. I caught a lock or two, crossed to the front and Linda looked up. I lifted my hand and sprinkled the gold tress over her lap. God it felt good… to me! Linda’s cute features were stripped bare now. While the top was still long enough to flop over, the reduction in length had revealed all of her bone structure. I liked it. Very much. Too much it seems… Mich hissed at me like a cottonmouth so I sat down again. Squirming recommenced as Mich began to crop off the top across her white comb, spilling tiny shafts of gold into the air as the clipper stripped off all above the plastic. Linda called out to me what it looked like. I managed to contain my compliments to just fantastic, delicious, gorgeous… until the ‘old Italian flash’ from Mich shut me down to my soft panting. Michelle’s face, fiercely screwed with concentration was opposite me, the bottom framed with the sharply etched line of blonde tufts she was paring down flat, from front to back. She must look like that when she does mine – all fierce and scrunched up. I giggled, and fell in love with her all over again. She grinned and signaled I was to come over. I stood close watching, squirming and flushing as she ran the teeth back, no guard, over the top of Linda’s hair… one false move and Linda would be… I begged for a false move, but Mich finished it – perfect. Mich tugged me even closer with a toss of her head. As I was only a foot away from Linda’s nervously swaying, crew-cut head when Mich bent down and fiercely puffed away the loose bristles from the table-top of Linda’s hair I was showered with a cascade of tiny, sharp gold shafts. Several on my face, more already wriggling and itching down the front of my shirt to nestle into the very corners and hem of my bra, to bite and itch… just as Mich-Bitch intended! Michelle ran the bare clipper head quickly around the hairline, refreshing her earlier cut, then announced Linda was finished. I got the big hand mirror and gave it to her. I expected the shriek this time. If she grinned any more her face would have split. I could not stop my hands joining hers in their wondering, stunned, bemused and gleeful exploration of her newly clipped profile. Those sharp, soft bristles on her nape turned my knees to jelly. Then Linda was up, out of the chair – guess we swept up that mess later! – and across to the big mirror in the hall to see the back. She was genuinely stunned, I think, to see how much shorter the rest looked now the top was clipped down. But she liked it, and said so, many times. So did I. So very much. Mich was good about it, she knew I was too hot for any further social niceties and the door was soon closing on the excited cropped Linda, taking home a delicious surprise for her sweetie. Trembling, almost weeping with need I sat in the chair. Mich warned me that I would only get just a trim as I was already way over-excited. I begged one anyway.


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