Take What You Want

Take What You Want

“Don’t! Behave!” Alice said pushing Marty’s hand away from her breast. “What if somebody sees us?”

“We are married now, it’s legal. And besides, it’s dark and no one is around,” Marty pleaded.

“I’m not making love in a car in a rest stop!” Alice said firmly, placing Marty’s hand on his lap and smoothing her tousled long, dark-brown hair.

Sighing, Marty started the car and drove back onto the highway. This was just another bump along the marriage highway, Marty thought. Their marriage was 48 hours old, and Marty was hauling his bride’s worldly possessions to his apartment in Savannah, Georgia from her home in Kentucky. The break at the rest stop seemed a good time and place to relax something other than his nerves from the tedious drive. Alas, his wife had other ideas.

They drove on in silence for several minutes.

Finally, Alice broke the quiet.

“Sometimes you have to take what you want,” Alice said softly.

The large wall-mounted air conditioner battled only partially successfully to keep the fierce Savannah summer heat under control in the small third-floor apartment. It took three months of cramming, storing and re-arranging to get the apartment to Alice’s satisfaction.

She stepped out of her third shower for the day and sighed as she reached for her comb. Her hair just never dried in this humidity, especially showering three or four times a day to keep cool.

She started dragging the comb through her hair when Marty arrived in the bathroom. Spying him in the mirror, she handed the comb back over her shoulder.

“Here, comb out this mess, will you?”

Marty took the comb and started sorting through the heavy, waist-length dark brown mane.

“Thought any more about cutting it?” he asked as he combed through the mass of hair. “It would be a lot cooler, and you would look great with it short.”

“But I’ve never had my hair short,” Alice said in a tone which clearly indicated she had answered the question. “Besides, men think long hair is sexy. So what are you trying to do? Make me less attractive to men by having all my hair cut off?”

“Huh? Where did that come from? I simply said short hair would be cooler and you would look great with it short. I don’t know any woman in Savannah who keeps her hair this long in this heat and humidity.”

“It’s about power,” Alice said. “You are trying to control me through my hair. We learned about human control mechanisms in my last psych class before I came down here.”

Marty sighed. “I’m not trying to control you. Just trying to make your life a little easier by saying I would like your hair short. Its nothing other than that.”

“Yes, but that isn’t what you mean!” Alice said flipping her combed but damp hair over her right shoulder.

She turned to her husband and flipped her hair coquettishly.

“Now that I’ve cooled off, what if we warm up again?” she asked coming close to her man.

*Being six months and 600 miles away from her stylist was taking its toll on Alice’s hair. She had intended to travel back to her home every two months to visit friends and family. That way she could schedule with David to keep her hair trimmed and conditioned.

Her bangs now fell below her jaw line and were a major hassle to keep out of the way. And the ends were getting positively ragged.

Marty had trimmed her hair before and did an OK job. Besides, he would enjoy it, and she knew she would be able to control any impulse he might have to do anything other than what she wanted. Since something had to be done, she gathered comb and scissors and went in search of her husband – which, in the small three-room apartment, didn’t take long.

She found her husband reading in the recliner. She sat down on the arm and let her hair tumble over his face and onto his chest.

“Would you trim my hair?” Alice asked, placing the comb and scissors on his lap.

Marty looked up eagerly, fondling the heavy dark brown mane that flowed around him.

“Ready for something cooler?” he asked, clicking the scissors suggestively.

“A TRIM,” Alice said firmly. “I want my bangs exactly to my eyebrows, and no more than one inch off the back. Understand? Do any butchering and you will be cut off until it grows back out!”

“OK,” Marty sighed. “Get your hair wet, and take off your shirt. I’ll get a stool from the kitchen and we’ll do it in the bathroom.”

“I can stand while you trim,” Alice offered. “You don’t have to move furniture around for a five-minute trim.”

“Your hair is too thick just to snip across and have it even. I’ll section it off first. That will take a few minutes. You will be more comfortable sitting.”

“Whatever,” Alice replied, going off to wet her hair. “Pity,” she called from the shower, “It finally dried!”

Marty arrived with the bar stool from the kitchen. Alice draped a towel over it and sat down facing the full-length mirror, her body still damp from the quick shower to wet her hair.

Marty carefully combed the long bangs forward, the wet locks clinging to Alice’s face, her vision temporarily obscured by the veil of hair. She felt the rest of her hair being pulled back over her ears and being secured behind her back, out of the way. So far Marty was doing exactly what he should be doing, Alice thought with satisfaction. Men were so easy to train! She closed her eyes and relaxed with the sensation of her hair being combed.

Then things began to unravel.

Alice became aware of the cool steel of the scissors against the middle of her forehead. Odd, she thought, they should be closer to the bridge of my nose, since my bangs shrink a lot when dry.

Then she heard the sniiick of scissors biting through hair. She opened her eyes, looked in the mirror and gasped. Marty was meticulously cutting her bangs to the middle of her forehead! More than an inch shorter than what she instructed! How dare he!

“Stop right now. What are you doing?” Alice demanded.

“I’m doing what you told me to do,” Marty said continuing to work the scissors across her forehead, the blades biting into the heavy bangs, the locks tumbling to Alice’s bare legs.

“I told you to cut them to my eyebrows!” Alice screamed.

“No,” Marty replied coolly. “You told me sometimes I had to take what I want. I have wanted your hair short for months.”

“Stop right now, or you will be on Social Security before you sleep with me again!” Alice demanded.

Marty combed a thick section of wet hair over Alice’s right ear, paused for a moment, then raised the shears to the top of her ear and cut. The thick three-foot lock of hair fell to the floor with a wet ‘plop’. Alice screamed.

“Be quiet, Alice,” Marty said sternly, a tone Alice had never heard from him before.

“But my hair! It has never been short! You are balding me!”

Marty combed a section of hair between his fingers and snipped two inches from her scalp. Working back along the right side, he combed the dark tresses, grasped them with his fingers, and snipped. The clipped locks fell, covering Alice’s bare shoulders, breasts and legs.

Marty carefully snipped a short angled sideburn, then bent Alice’s right ear down to clip the hair cleanly above her ear, then smoothed down the hair and examined his work.

For the first time since he had known Alice, he saw her ear exposed, the dark brown hair forming a neat frame. Picking up a short-toothed barber’s comb, Marty lifted the two-inch long locks and clipped them an inch shorter.

Alice gasped as she saw her shorn locks becoming shorter.

“Please, don’t cut any more,” she said softly.

Not pausing in the rhythm of comb-lift-shear, Marty said softly but firmly, “I like your hair this short. Now the rest is coming off. Bend your head down.”

Alice was shocked at the change in Marty’s attitude. All during their courtship Alice had gotten everything she wanted from Marty. When Marty wanted something, he always asked deferentially, almost obsequiously. Then Alice would decide, rather imperiously, whether or not to grant the request – be it movie, location for dinner, or sex.

Now there was no asking, no being deferential or obsequious. Marty knew what he wanted and was taking it. Alice was powerless to stop it. Alice, the woman who had always controlled the relationship was now being controlled for the first time in her life. It was a new sensation. She did the only thing she knew to do.

“Yes, Marty,” she said obsequiously, and bent her head.

Marty let the full thick dark tresses flow through his fingers. Then, smoothing down the hair with the barber’s comb, he lifted a long section at her crown and cropped it two inches away from her scalp. The long, dark tendril of hair tumbled to the bathroom floor.

Marty soon established the rhythm of comb-lift-cut, comb-lift-cut. His feet were soon covered with the locks that were falling from Alice’s head.

All too soon, the back of Alice’s head was shorn to a uniform 2 inches. Marty smoothed down her hair and scissored the hair to mid-nape. Longer than he wanted, but without clippers, he couldn’t buzz the back the way he wanted. Never mind, that would come later.

Lifting Alice’s head erect, he turned his attention to the left side. To make the hair easier to work with, he grabbed the remaining hair in one hand and sheared the mass above her ear.

A gasp escaped Alice’s throat as she saw the remains of her dark tresses tumble to the floor as Marty released his grasp.

Again using the comb to lift her hacked locks, Marty sheared the remaining hair to a uniform one inch. Sheared locks piled up on Alice’s shoulder, tumbling forward to lie on her breast. Satisfied with the length, Marty blended the side hair with the longer hair on the top of her head. He paid particular attention to her ear, making sure that not a single hair touched the top.

Alice’s eyes widened as she saw the result of his shearing. Her breathing became ragged and rapid, but she didn’t utter a word. Marty would be upset if she did.

After combing her hair dry, Marty lifted each section checking for evenness and making minor corrections. Then he stood erect for the first time in more than half an hour.

“You may stand up now,” Marty said.

Slowly, Alice got to her feet. Marty reached for a towel from the rack and gently brushed away the hair clinging to her body.

Instinctively, Alice’s hands explored her head, feeling the prick of the short hair above her ears, fingering the sideburns, and the bareness of her nape. Never before had her nape been bared. As she stared at her reflection, she saw her high, elegant cheekbones now dominated her entire face, the short-cropped bangs made her dark eyes enormous.

Then she felt Marty’s lips gently touching her neck. Shivers went through her body as his caresses became more insistent.

He turned her around and picked her up in his arms, carrying her the few feet to their bed.

“I’m applying for Social Security early,” Marty said, quickly taking off his clothes.

The heated first rush of his passion became a gently more thorough pleasuring. Marty roamed his fingers through Alice’s clipped head. He loved the touch of her nape and feeling the short, scissored hair around her ears. He playfully flipped her cropped bangs back away from her forehead, and smiled as they returned to position, framing her dark eyes.

“This is the first Saturday of the month,” Marty announced suddenly.

“Yes, Marty,” Alice said, still in shock.

“The first Saturday of the month will be the day you get your hair cut from now on,” Marty stated.

“Yes, Marty,” Alice said.

“There will be no more mention of cutting me off from your body, not even in jest,” Marty said.

“Yes, Marty,” Alice said.

“Do you have any questions?” Marty asked.

Alice thought for a moment.

“A couple,” she said softly.

“What are they?” Marty asked.

“Will you be my personal barber now?” Alice asked.

“Yes, I don’t want anyone else cutting your hair,” Marty stated flatly.

“Yes, Marty. Will my hair ever be long again?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe. Someday. Not soon. In fact, your hair is still too long. I want to get some clippers and buzz the back and sides shorter,” he replied.

“Yes, Marty. Ummm… when will you get the clippers?”

“Tomorrow probably. Why do you ask?”

“No reason, Marty. It’s just, well…”

“Go ahead, what is it?” Marty asked pulling Alice closer to his body.

“Well,” Alice said, snuggling her head onto his shoulder, “I was wondering if maybe you could get the clippers today?”

Marty ran his hand through her sheared mane, gently rubbing the back of her neck. Alice crooned with pleasure.

“This is going to be a good marriage,” Marty said at last.

“Yes, Marty.”

 

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