I've never had short hair. I'm your neighbor, the one who's always had really long hair. Remember when you invited me over for tea and noticed that I was actually sitting on my hair because it was so long?
I've always been terrified of getting my hair cut and I've refused even the smallest trims for years. So, how would you convince me to finally sit in your chair?
And what would you do after I agreed, especially considering I've been teasing you with my long brown hair every time we've met? I'd want you to take your time with the scissors, cutting it gradually rather than all at once, enjoying the transformation as my hair slowly goes from extremely long to much shorter. What would you say to me throughout the process?
After gradually becoming closer and hearing you open up about your dislike of haircuts, I offer to trim it for you on a few separate occasions. No pressure, just a casual offer. You of course decline each time, but the more you start to think about it, the more curiosity starts to fester. Would it really be so bad? You trust me. Secretly, I bet you like the idea of giving up control to me. Finally you ask if it's too late to take me up on my offer.
Before you know it, you're sat in my chair after closing time. Just the two of us. I swirl a big white cape over your body and the chair, pushing your mane out of the way to tie it around your neck, lightly teasing about how you're already making my job difficult. Once it's secure, I let your hair flop all the way down the back of the chair. It is a truly spectacular sight. Do you suspect that you're about to lose it all? I'm not sure. I only know that I can't wait to sink my scissors into that silky hair.
It begins with a trim, exactly what I promised you. An inch, maybe two, slowly snipped off and allowed to drop in front of your eyes. I want it all to pile up on the cape. You flinch a little at the first strands but quickly get used to it. It's not long before the ends are tidied up, but your hair still covers your butt. I suggest going shorter, just so that you're not sitting on it anymore. Naturally you hesitate. That would be a bigger change than you've had in years. I don't push you, simply let you simmer with the thought until you eventually agree to lose another few inches.
With delicate snips of the scissors, more brown hair falls to the cape. "See?" I murmur to you. "This isn't so bad. It's a lovely sound, isn't it?" I let the scissors ring out as they chop more of your hair. Snip, snip. Snip, snip. You're no longer flinching, far from it. Your posture is less tense, rather slightly intrigued as you watch the brown hair gradually cover more of the white cape.
Soon your hair is up to your hips. "Good. Much better. But…" I slip my fingers through your hair, swishing it from side to side across the back of the chair. "There's still so much of it. I still feel like I can make it… neater, somehow."
Like the last time, you contemplate. I'm not cruel. I don't cut it without your consent. But eventually you do agree to have it chopped up to your waist. I start cutting before you can change your mind, quietly admitting that I didn't expect you to let me do this. You stay silent but I notice your cheeks go slightly red.
I ask you to keep going. You just nod. Mid-back now. I lean in to whisper in your ear. "Must have been a while since you've had your hair this short. It's about time someone did this to you. You were overdue a nice, big chop." You blush harder, growing flustered as more and more of your precious hair falls victim to the scissors. Snip, snip, snip.
"Shorter," I say. No longer a question. I can see that you want me to go on. The scissors chop so easily through your hair, so silky and soft. It brushes my hands as it falls, covering yet more of the cape. You would hardly be able to tell that it was white beneath all the brown strands. The newly cut locks barely go beyond your shoulder.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" I whisper in your ear as I continue cutting. "Because I am. I've always wanted to cut your hair. So long, so silky. The way it swished as you moved. And you were so protective of it. I fantasized about having you sat in this chair. Cutting it all off. Just. Like. This."
You seem breathless now. Each movement shakes the hair covering your body. Still more falls as the blades chop your hair up to the middle of your neck. Almost done. You shiver as the cool metal touches your neck. Gradually I work my way across until your bob is complete, and your haircut is finally finished. I admire the new hairstyle in the mirror, though I'm more interested in the mountain of hair that you are buried under. Rapunzel no more. Exactly what you deserved.