Walking on Sunshine

Walking On Sunshine by HeadBoy

Katrina had been down this road before, that giddy feeling inside, the odd pangs in the belly that could mean only one thing: love. Yup, love. That thing that leads you to do things you never thought you’d do… like cut off your mid-back length hair.

Mike was a gregarious sort, a happy-go-lucky guy that could sell ice cubes to the Eskimos. The type of guy who could make B.B. King sing ditties. He just had a way about him, a twinkle in his eye that resembled every Norman Rockwell drawing of Santa Claus. He had one more thing — Katrina’s heart in the palm of his hands.

Katrina was a sweet-faced 26-year-old. Old enough to know what happiness was, but young enough to lack experience in quite a lot of things. Mike was not her first love, but by far, he was her deepest. She had quit her job at the local TV station when they asked her to cut her hair to above her shoulders; she loved it too much to part with it. The long, dark waves of sweet-smelling hair. Not a split end in the bunch. Each strand was cared for nightly.

Mike hadn’t mentioned his fetish when they first began going out. He didn’t tell Katrina he fantasized about her neck, that elegant thing that was exposed when she’d put her hair up for special occasions. One day, she noticed a copy of GQ sitting on the table with Charlize Theron on the cover. No big deal, Mike always read the mag, and always left his things strewn about the apartment.

Coming home from work that night, he’d rented a copy of “The Astronaut’s Wife”, featuring Charlize and her incredibly short hair. Again, no big deal, Mike was a fan of Johnny Depp movies, and a sci fi fan. The movie was bad, but Mike sat captivated.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” he asked after the film ended.

“Yeah, she really is, but that movie sucked. No two ways about it, hon.”

“You’re right, but I love that haircut, and I could’ve watched her read the back of a toothpaste tube for an hour.”

“That would have been more enjoyable.”

“You’d look good with that haircut.”

“I’d look naked with that haircut.”

“It would look good on you, honest. I know it would,” he said, his eyes catching the light and having this euphoric gleam that she’d never seen before. It was so honest and open that she was sucked into the moment. She knew she wanted to say no, but she felt her bee-stung lips saying yes.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”_ “Yes.”

“Yes.”_ “Yes!”

Katrina felt his arms wrap around her and squeeze. He was as excited as a ten-year-old on Christmas morning. Katrina felt those odd pangs in her stomach. Nervous ones. Love pangs too, but strange feelings of queasiness. She spent hours on her hair every night, and she loved how erotic it felt to brush and stroke and stroke and brush her hair until her arms ached. It was a cathartic thing for her, she would brush away all the day’s stress. But she hadn’t been feeling much stress since she met Mike.

After two months together, they moved in. Katrina’s friends told her it was foolish, until they met him. Mike had given Katrina a confidence and a sense of self-worth she’d lacked before. It wasn’t that she needed a man to make her whole, it was more like Mike was a better person around her and she was around him. They gained strength around one another. Strength and, eventually, shared fetishes.

His was to cut her hair, short, very short. Hers was to be pleased. Pleased like an Egyptian Queen on the Nile. Mike was delighted with this. What the two of them did in their bedroom was fine by him, his pals and hers need never know.

At the salon, Mike sat in the chair, it felt like a cloud. He watched Katrina saunter toward the chair to be caped and rid of her hair. He did not have the acumen to cut her locks into anything stylish, he would be happy to perform the maintenance afterward, but the drama of the first cutting was his pleasure merely to watch. Mike photographed Katrina outside the salon doors, she looked nervous, and felt silly posing for a photo, but didn’t mind if it made him happy… her turn was later tonight.

His eyes glinted, gleamed even, as she sat bolt upright in the chair. A slight woman with the devil’s eyes and an angel’s smile introduced herself to Katrina. Mike could hear them discussing the photo, the giggles he heard clearly, the conversation he did not. It didn’t matter, he let the scenario play out. His camera snapped a few shots discreetly. The salon was so clean and white it was almost surgical. The white tile beneath Mike’s feet caught the tapping of his black Doc Martens, Katrina got up to walk to the wash basin for her shampoo.

Mike watched her get lowered down, the water felt warm on Katrina’s scalp. Mike felt his heart thump quicker. Katrina felt the nails of her stylist dig in and massage away all the day’s stress, and excite her in a way she knew from Mike’s hands all too well.

Mike watched the towel blot away the wetness from his love. Katrina looked over and smiled, nervously.

The combing felt delightful on Katrina’s hair, she lost herself in the moment. Mike was not lost, he was locked in dead stare.

Up went the scissors to Katrina’s hair. Mike felt a nervous twinge. Katrina felt several more. The cold steel blade scythed away a long chunk at the back first. The stylist worked around to the left side of Katrina’s head. Snipping away, Katrina looked at the ceiling, scared to watch, Mike was scared to blink. The stylist chopped away, snip, snip, snip.

Katrina did finally look into the mirror. The left side of her head had been rid of most of the hair she loved. Wet tendrils lay in uneven snips, up over the ear in parts, hanging unkempt in others. “We’ll even that out shortly,” the stylist said, the angel’s smile was a soothing balm, so was Mike’s growing look of pleasure.

The still-long front of her wet hair was combed over her eyes. “Here we go,” the stylist said, the devil’s eyes coiled in an almost sarcastic pounce. The scissors clicked four times. Gone was the hair that seconds ago brushed Katrina’s breasts. Mike looked at Katrina’s now-exposed forehead… he loved it. The way it sat open and lent a larger scape for Katrina’s doey eyes. Katrina did not know what to think. She’d never seen her bangs this cropped. Her mind told her Mike’s pleasure was more important than her ego. She looked in the mirror, and liked the way it was turning out… This struck her as curious.

Katrina had always loved her hair, long and luscious. Why was she enjoying this? Mike was in heaven, she could tell. He could tell Katrina was enjoying the moment as well. The snipping away off all that hair, the feel of scissors sliding up closer and closer to the scalp, the feel of weight falling from her head, the newness of it all, the pure sexual pleasure it was bringing the love of her life, and her as well… okay, maybe not such a mystery after all.

The stylist worked on trimming the bangs slightly. Katrina liked the way they felt, dusting the top of her head, just barely existing. Mike loved the way they looked, almost perfectly uniform, but with odd bits left jagged. Katrina asked the stylist to stop for a moment while she felt them. Mike snapped more photos. Katrina felt herself beginning to undulate in the chair. She forced herself to stop while the stylist worked on the right side of her head. Snipping away at the last vestiges of hair, Katrina felt strange, she had loved every minute of this as much as Mike must’ve. She couldn’t sit still while the clippers bolted to life. They trimmed away the shagginess around the ears, exposing both for the whole world to see, and Mike to nibble on later. The stylist clippered at the back of Katrina’s head, she couldn’t see what was happening, but she saw Mike’s face, his eyes big as saucers and his demeanor changing noticeably to raging joy. The clippers made their maiden voyage over the back of Katrina’s neck, the feeling sent joy shocks through her spine and made her feet tingle. She caught her reflection for a second as the stylist swung the chair about to work on the sides again. For a work in progress, she loved the progress. Mike saw his Katrina, her nerves calming, her face beaming, her hair falling to the ground. Katrina saw her Mike, her love, her incredibly pleased man… tonight, he would thrill her in ways that have nothing to do with scissors, clippers or hair gel.

With the back reduced to a graduating length in back and subdued to about 1/2 inch on the sides, and the top chopped away to a sleek looking pixie, the stylist ran her fingers through the soft, sheared cut. Katrina moaned in pleasure.

“That good, is it?” the stylist asked, the devil’s eyes flashing.

“Oh, God, yes,” Katrina said in halting syllables. She had yet to get a good look at all of it, but she could sense how it was opening up her face, exposing the neck and her jaw line. She had very soft, incredibly feminine features that were once subdued; now, however, they began to leap out from hiding. Her friends may not love her new look right away, but they’ll certainly see the new Katrina. There was nothing wrong with the old one, but since she and Mike had begun seeing each other, subtle changes began to overtake the two of them. The slow dance toward couplehood had quickened to a swirling sort of anti-tarantella. The two had blended to almost one mind, without losing their individuality. Their individuality had, however, begun to adjust slightly toward each other. For Katrina it was in the lopping off of her mane of hair. A mane she didn’t seem to miss as much as she thought. The way the scissors had felt was a comfort more than an intrusion. And the feel of those nimble, caring, fingers was an amazing discovery. Katrina liked the snipping sound, and got slightly anxious when the stylist put the scissors down.

The stylists fingers tousled what remained, she dug them into the bangs and ran them back and forth furiously to add some body. The little clippers were broken out for outlining… their guardless feel sent Katrina reeling, she would make Mike buy a pair on the ride home. She looked into the mirror, and instantly loved the finished result. The cascade in her capri pants and the swimming in her head were feelings she wanted to keep forever. The look of pure lust and unbridled love in Mike’s eyes was one she wanted to keep. Mike wanted to keep his queen satiated at any cost. The cost would turn out to be a mini pair of clippers.

The way they bit into her hairline was a pleasure she’d need to feel often, Mike was willing to perform this task. You could tell by the look on Mike’s face that he had enjoyed the haircut. What he did not know was how much Katrina had loved it. He did not know that he’d be required to trim her hair weekly as part of her Nile princess moments. It was a weekly ritual that they missed only once, when they went hiking on their honeymoon later that same year.

Katrina and Mike spent the rest of their lives pleasing one another, he got to the point where he could trim Katrina’s hair blindfolded. He never did though, he didn’t want to miss a second of the pleasure. His, or hers.

And they lived happily ever after.

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