Flight
THE FLIGHT By Shearingly
Six girls filed in carrying their instrument cases. They were a brass ensemble flying to Orlando to play at Disney World. I watched them follow their chaperone, a voluptuous, well-endowed young woman with gorgeous red hair layered in waves that ended two inches below her shoulders. With a toss of her red mane she marched up to the adjacent ticket counter and imperiously announced that they had arrived for their flight. I watched closely because I knew what was going to happen. That flight had been cancelled and there were no other planes going that day or the next that could accommodate them. Sure enough, the fireworks started when she was told that the flight was cancelled. “What,” she yelled loudly, “we have to get to Orlando by tonight! These girls have been raising money for this trip for the last six months.” What she didn’t include, but I found out later, was that her fiancee, whom she hadn’t seen in nearly a year, was in Orlando waiting for her. She didn’t care about the ensemble, but she desperately wanted to see her boyfriend. The six girls had worked very hard to raise the money for the trip – enough for them plus this chaperone, who hadn’t contributed a thing toward the trip.
When she was finally convinced there was nothing she could do to change the situation, she looked around the nearly empty terminal building and spied my counter which said, “SMITH’S CHARTERS.” She marched over and only slightly less haughtily asked if she might be able to charter a plan to Orlando for seven people. I had been thinking about the possibility and had an answer for her right away.
“I do have a plane that has six regular seats plus a jump seat so it will fit seven passengers. It isn’t a large plane, so it won’t be as smooth or as fast. There will be no flight attendant. You will also have to limit the luggage you take and you may have to take some extraordinary measures to make sure we don’t exceed the weight requirements.” She just shrugged that off and asked how much it would be. I named a price and without hesitating she said she’d take it. I produced several forms for her to fill out and sign. Some of the parents of the girls had come along to see them off and they chipped in with some extra money to come up with what was needed. I told them to say their goodbyes and then follow me to the plane. They quickly said goodbye and then carrying instruments and luggage they struggled along following me. The red headed chaperone seemed to have the heaviest luggage of all.
I took them to a room in the hangar where I kept my planes. I asked the girls to spread out around the room and stand alone with just their own luggage at their feet. I then walked around to each girl and pointed to one piece of luggage (usually their smallest one) and said, you’ll have to fit everything you absolutely need in that piece, you can’t take anything more than that. Of course, they all had to take their instruments but only one other piece was allowed. The chaperone said she should be allowed two pieces because she wasn’t carrying an instrument. I pointed to a second, small carry-on tote and said she could have that also.
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They used some tables that were set up along the wall and completely unpacked and repacked, taking only what was absolutely necessary. When that was done I had them come one at a time to a large scale (like what farmers used to weigh sacks of grain) and stand on it with their instrument and luggage. I carefully wrote down the reading. I had noticed that the girls all had long hair – some very long, down to their waist, but all had hair well past their shoulders. One, Su Li, was Japanese/American and had the shiniest, blackest hair I’d ever seen. It was loose, down to the middle of her back, and looked like silk around her shoulders as she walked. Another, Gretchen, had the thickest braid I’d ever seen. It was blond with highlights that wove through the braid in a fascinating way. Sharon had chestnut colored hair hanging halfway down her back, straight and shiny with just the ends curled. Toni was a brunette, medium brown hair, permed into graceful waves which ended a couple of inches above her waist. She had used a mousse or gel which emphasized the curls. Of the last two one was ash blond, Mary, and the other girl, Amy, was auburn, both thick and straight, the ash blond with the sides pulled back in barrettes, Amy had hers in a ponytail.
I added up the weights and then told them we were still overweight. I pulled the chaperone, Ms. Benner, aside and said there were a couple of things we could do. The instruments, of course, were not optional. The suitcases were down to the minimum, she had gone through them with the girls and I was convinced they would not remove anything else from them. I mentioned that all the girls had really long hair and that she would be surprised at how much hair weighs. I suggested that if the girls were willing, I’d give them all a quick haircut and that might get them under the weight allowance. She gave a quick glance at the girls and then at her watch. It was then she told me her fiancee was waiting for her. She made up her mind and said, “O.K.”
I said, “O.K. what?”
“Give them a haircut,” she responded.
“Don’t you want to ask them?” I said.
“What for? This trip is for them, I’m the one in charge, responsible to see that they get down there and back, one way or another. Go ahead.”
“O.K.” I said. I pulled a stool into the middle of the floor and explained to the girls what I had told the chaperone. They began to protest but Ms. Benner told them it had been decided, not to argue. I could see the emotions displayed on the girl’s faces. First disbelief and refusal and then finally acceptance and resignation. I asked who’ll go first? Toni, the permed brunette stepped up first. She slowly sat down and said in a quiet voice, “Please, Mr. Smith, do what you have to. I want to go to Orlando.”
I gathered her pretty curls together and held it in my left hand up high, with the scissors in my right hand I began snipping away, close to her scalp (less than an inch away). I could hear gasps around me as the girls watched. I persevered, gnawing through the mass of hair, working carefully around her ears and up across the top of her head, until finally the last bits separated from her head. I placed the curly mane on the table and surveyed the damage. It didn’t look good. I combed a fringe of bangs over her forehead and snipped them off evenly (they were short and looked kind of nerdish). I then pulled out a set of electric hair clippers, put on a plastic guard that would leave a half an inch of hair and buzzed all around her scalp – “This will even it up,” I told her.
When she was done there were no more eager volunteers. I pointed to Su Li and did the same thing with her long silky hair. I explained that it wouldn’t be fair to have some girls end up with longer hair than others, so I would just give them all the same haircut. They accepted that, but I heard some quiet sobs and weeping. Toni was being hugged and consoled by the others who were feeling her head, the soft crew-cut was both shocking and fascinating. They couldn’t keep their hands off it.
When Su Li was done I pointed to Gretchen with her thick braid. This time I didn’t bother to use the scissors but holding up the braid I worked around with the clippers until the braid finally came loose. Then I went over her head again to clean it up and make it nice and even all over. Mary submitted to the clipping next. I unfastened Mary’s barrettes and with my fingers arranged her lovely straight blond tresses across her back. She seemed nervous and afraid at first, then with the first few snips she relaxed. Halfway through the scissoring she whispered to me, “I always wanted short hair, but was too afraid to get it cut. Thank you for making me do it.” I smiled at her and told her she’d look great with short hair. When I snapped the clippers on she jumped but then I saw her fingers working at the crotch of her super short shorts. I whispered, “Go ahead, Mary. I don’t mind.” She unfastened her belt and unsnapped and unzipped the shorts then dipped her hand down inside her panties. A few of the girls were still watching me and noticed what she was doing. They watched with interest, but didn’t say anything. She actually pushed her head into the clippers as I moved them up the back of her head. I put my hand lightly on her forehead to guide her head where I wanted it to go. She began to breathe faster and more heavily and just before I finished she shuddered with an orgasm and then another. I was glad I was almost done because the way she shook in ecstasy would have made it hard not to nick her scalp. When she got done she looked in a hand mirror and exclaimed in pleasure. She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek and thanked me again. I wasn’t expecting that response, but it was nice of her.
Amy’s auburn ponytail was next, then finally Sharon’s chestnut mane was the last to go. She covered her face with her hands and cried as I gathered her lovely, scented hair together and began snipping it off with the scissors followed by the same buzz the others had gotten. After the shearing I weighed them all again, added it up and said we are almost there, only a little more to go.
The girls all looked at their chaperone. “Oh, no,” she said, “not me! I’m going to get married next month, I can’t have my hair all cut off like that.” I got her aside and said “I can only think of one more thing to do – if we give every one an enema to empty them out inside. that might lighten us up another pound or two. She quickly agreed to that and explained it to the girls and then said she would go first, to set the example. They asked her if the enemas didn’t get the weight low enough would she then let her hair be cut? She said she would, thinking it wouldn’t be needed.
She let me fill up a two quart bag, lubricate the tip and then she lowered her pants so I could slide it inside, but when the water began to flow and she felt the first cramps she began to change her mind, “No! Stop! Please, stop.” I leaned over and whispered, “If this doesn’t work I’ll have to give you that haircut.” She got quiet and let the enema finish. While she was in the restroom expelling the enema I got one of the other girls started. As soon as one was filled up I started another until all the stalls in the restroom were filled. We had to pause until some of them finished up in there before we could continue. Finally that was all done and I re-weighed everyone.
They all watched me expectantly as I added up the numbers. When I was finished and looked at them I had a sad expression on my face and shook my head. “Still not enough, only another half a pound to go.” The girls had slowly maneuvered themselves around their chaperone so she was surrounded. When she heard my conclusion she glanced wildly around looking for a place to hide. The six girls grasped her arms and led her to the stool. She was crying, saying, “No! Don’t do this to me. I can’t look ugly for my wedding.” She wouldn’t sit on the stool so the girls, holding her arms and legs, bent her over the stool so she was laying on her stomach.
“So you think we’re ugly, now?” the brunette said. “You’ve never really liked us, have you? You were so willing to let him cut our hair, even without asking us first. Now we think you need to get yours cut so we can get to Florida.” She could tell she was overwhelmed and resigned herself to the shearing.
I stood over her and with all the girls’ eyes on me (but she couldn’t see me because she was looking down at the floor) I removed the plastic guard from the clippers. The girls all smiled at me and nodded. I reached down and lifted her beautifully layered hair up off her neck and with the clippers buzzing I plowed a white furrow up the back of her head. She stiffened as she felt the clippers move across her scalp, her shoulders were shaking as she wept. The girls cheered as I took swipe after swipe laying bare her white head. Without a guard the clippers were cutting right down to the scalp. The stubble of her red hair couldn’t really be seen so she looked bald, not like the other girls who still had half an inch of hair. I didn’t even leave bangs on Ms. Benner. When I was done she looked dramatically different. The red hair, which was so eye-catchingly beautiful was now gone, so you could see her delicate features. Her eyes were now what drew your attention. She was a stunning woman with or without her hair. She went into the restroom and we could all tell when she caught her first glimpse of the mirror. She let out a shriek. It took several minutes for her to get a grip on herself then she came out, let herself be weighed and I announced the plane could fly. They were loaded up and had taken off in twenty minutes. I was pleased to notice that the girls made their chaperone sit in the uncomfortable jump seat. She seemed to be a different woman than the one that walked in the airport that morning, all haughty and demanding.
I swept up the hair and stored, for my collection, the long strands of pretty hair that I had just cut off from the girls. As I walked out of the hangar I patted the side of my ten passenger jet which would have gotten the girls there so much quicker and nicer.
THE END
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