Skin-Deep - Shorn and Shown Pt. 01

'Do you want to sit down and chat again, before I reveal you to yourself? Or do you want to take the plunge now? I am full of impressions of you, have to restrain myself, but don't want to rattle on. Maybe should leave you for a while, maybe this is a moment for silence. If I say you are otherworldly, I have said too much already!'

'I need to take the plunge. I dread seeing myself, but I must! I want to, very, very much.'

We go to the full-length mirror in the bedroom. She takes me by the hand before we enter the bedroom. 'Close your eyes... Open them when I say so.'

We take the last few steps. She then releases her grip and says, in clear voice, 'Look, Vita!'

Oh! I see an apparition. A statue. The eyes are alive and look at me, look through me. So smooth. So cool. So clean. So bare. I feel humble under the eyes of this otherworldly creature, there to cleanse me from my sins. A stern angel. Female. Then - shock- I realise I am looking at myself, reflected in the full-length mirror. My bare body is ever so slightly shiny. In the twilight that has come over us, my body appears florescent. Is this I? Is this a better self? I feel I grow. I stand tall, calm and serene.

This is not what I thought when I stood there. I was not mad. This is fabulation, poetry, hogwash, if you want, looking back far after the fact. There and then, I was in shock. Otherworldly, she had put it right. I did not recognise myself. The words ugly or beautiful did not apply. Tears flowed briefly, but plentifully. I had to force myself not to turn away or cover my eyes. I clearly mourned my beauty, my personality. What I saw was an alien. My body was fine, I had seen myself naked in the mirror before, with and without pubic hair. But the head was not mine. If you have eyebrows to speak of, like me, removing them has almost the same impact as shaving one's head. Because these arches go with the eyes, reinforce and support them. Of course, a woman without is either another woman, or not a woman at all. The eyes were mine, though. My soul remained. Relief.

I barely registered that Sophie put her arm around my shoulder, turned in and hugged me. She took my head on her shoulder and stroked my naked skull, smooth and still sensitive from the shaving, soothing me greatly.

She took me to bed. When I had laid down, eyes closed, I heard the rustling of her undressing and then felt her naked body slide behind me, against me. We slept for an hour or two, I guess, then made love in 69. My bare head between her thighs and hers between mine, her soft hair stroking my loins, our tongues slowly, then more feverishly labouring on clits, slits, folds. Magic -- it had been years since my latest lesbian encounter at college. Tender orgasms with eyes closed, mine in any case, in individual dream worlds, wordlessly, save the moans and sighs.

Then we slept.

It is I that wakes up first. It takes a minute to realise where I am -- night has fallen, it is dark outside, I am in a strange room, another body with me in my bed, sleeping still... There is a different feeling under my head, where there is normally a tangle of hair. My hand investigates and I shoot up -- both hands on my head. Bald, no hair... Shock! But -- a second later - also a feeling of triumph -- I have done it! All this wakes Sophie up and she looks up at me... 'Strange, isn't it?' she whispers. 'It is the new you, Vita. Get used to it. But you will get used to it! You look like an alien, but you will get used to it. And I would too.' She smiles a sweet smile. I manage to return it. Then she tackles me and kisses me and makes passionate love to me again. I can get used to that.

We had a light late dinner somewhere in the still of the night, slept again, made love again. And then it was morning. A beautiful morning. One that saw Sophie leave, quite soon after breakfast. With hugs, tears, smiles. And I saw her car drive out of the gate, I Iocked it again and was alone.

I continued shaving all over until Sophie returned for the first time two weeks later. Then I started to let it grow back. All of it, everywhere. By the end of the sabbatical, I would have a passable head of hair. 3-4 inch, I expect. And inappropriate growths anywhere else. My hair grows pretty fast.

What happened afterwards, the account of the ups and downs of my 6-month isolation, will be the subject of a separate story.

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Dinner with Martha (conclusion)

Back to the present, where I am just done presenting my shaven abdomen to Martha. It met with her approval (and turned us on.) It is her turn now to show me hers. I am excited. It is a rare pleasure. Somehow, it has been a while since I saw another woman's sex at close range...

She has to put in a bit more work than I did to show me her box. To open the buttons of her trousers, half-lower the pants, make her panties go the same way, lift her shirt and there we go. Sexually straight or not - undiagnosed bi-sexual is more like it - I am moved and aroused by seeing a vulva at close range, presented to me under these conditions, in the bathroom of a restaurant. It would be different in a changing room after tennis or so, where you might see your friends' fannies but at a glance only. Here, it is offered, as it were, on a plate. So, I see that she shaves the labia and groin, but leaves a bushy triangle above her slit. And, yes, she is a natural blonde, light blonde, but I see whiffs of grey on her pubes and can conclude she does not touch up her pubic hair, as opposed to that on her head! (Who does? Someone?). I love her rose of flesh. I love the pronounced inner labia, that look like they're glad to be released from the panties that straightjacket them!

I signal to Martha that I have seen enough. Not strictly true, never true, but we have a schedule and I am nervous. She gets dressed again.

No other woman has burst upon this little episode. Too bad, but fine -- there is that schedule, and there will a time and place for this kind of thing, exposing myself, soon.

--- Continued in Part II