The Shape of Things to Come

Her thoughts were racing. How did she find herself in this unfamiliar, but very cool, chair? she wonders.

She sits still as the neck paper is placed around her neck, followed by a billowing cape. It's snapped into place, nice and tight.

The stylist picks up a spray bottle and begins wetting her hair so it is easier to cut. To keep the spray from getting into her eyes, she closes them. She doesn't know how she got here, or why, so she decides not to open her eyes unless she has to.

The stylist picks up scissors and a comb and begins combing her hair. She feels the stylist comb some hair between their fingers and begins to cut. She likes the soft crunching sound of hair being cut. The stylist continues to comb and cut, comb and cut. She is lulled into a sort of trance, listening to the soft sound and feeling her head getting lighter with each trim. She loves the touch of hands in her hair, lightly tugging, moving it about. It's a sensual feeling and she finds herself a little turned on. Her hand strays to the space between her legs. No, I better not, she thinks.

The cutting and styling continues for several more minutes. She wonders what she looks like now. She had considered cutting her hair in the past, but just never got around to it. She's not sure she wants to open her eyes just yet, she's a little bit uneasy. What if I don't like it? Well, it's too late now, she groans to herself.

She hears the scissors put back on the shelf in front of her and the rattle of something as it's picked up. Her hair is combed up onto the top of her head and clipped into place. Hair piled on top goes around all sides. She wonders what this means.

She hears a man whispering to the stylist but cannot understand what he says. The voice is not familiar so maybe it is another stylist or a customer. A sudden spritz of cool water lands on the back of her head which makes her jump. The next sound makes her jump even more... the snap and buzz of clippers. No! not for her? Please!

The clippers are placed at the base of her neck and move up her nape. Dear God no! she moans to herself. The clippers move a little to the left and up her nape again. She can't believe this is happening. The action is repeated on the right and she's getting panicky, yet... she's starting to feel something beginning deep in her core. More passes up her nape, and the more these passes repeat, the more she is getting wet and needy. Her hand drops to that moist place between her legs and finds a way to finger herself, being quiet and still so she's not found out. That would be so embarrassing.

Just as she's into it, the clippers turn off. Rats, she thinks, I was almost there. Again, she hears a man whisper to the stylist. Whatever he said, she hears the clippers turn on again. Her heart leaps at the sound and she realizes how much she missed the feeling of them on her neck.

The metal teeth are again placed at the base of her neck and slowly, very slowly, rise up her nape. The teeth feel warm and close on the skin. Shivers run down her spine and directly into her core, where the wetness surges. She can't believe how wonderful it feels and wants more of it. The stylist moves the clippers to the next section and again very slowly goes up her nape. I love this! she thinks. How have I never done this before?

Once more the clippers move and pass up her neck. The man whispers again. The pressure of the clippers increases with the next pass and her hand moves ever faster, bringing her closer to climax. The clippers move faster up her neck, over and over again. Her hand moves furiously down below and comes hard, letting a moan escape, knowing she didn't care anymore. She wanted this, needed this. The clippers turn off as she comes down from the mountainous high she just experienced.

Through the fog she is in, she hears the man whisper in her ear to open her eyes. She looks around before she looks in the mirror.

She wakes up suddenly, feeling sated and wet. She instinctively reaches for her hair. It is the same as it was when she went to bed. It was a dream, just a dream. She's never had such a wet dream before. She wonders what it means.

She goes about her day as normal as she can. Cleaning, shopping, reading. Nothing truly dulls the odd feeling she's had since she woke up. No activity can stop the thoughts of that dream. No distraction can squash the sensations she felt that day that her body now seems to crave.

Without thinking, she picks up her keys, gets into her car and drives. She pulls up outside and parks. She gets out and walks over to the door. She opens it and walks into the barbershop, knowing exactly what she wants.