This Wasn’t in the Script

This Wasn’t In the Script by Sabrina S

Caitlin was riding high. Years of effort had paid off and now she was a successful scriptwriter. Well, if you could call writing three different soaps for the same production company successful. Her soap operas would never win academic acclaim, but they were watched by millions, with syndication now seeing them spread in several languages across the western world.

And Caitlin had managed to both indulge her hair fetish and hide it from the rest of the world. Yes, that was certainly successful.

So carefully did she space the scripted haircuts her leading ladies and men had that nobody ever twigged the rush she got from it, especially if she just so happened to be in the studio or on location when the haircuts were in progress.

There had been five in the last three years across all three of her soap operas. Maggot, the lager lout, had lost his trademark mullet as the script required him to go for a new job where he needed a neat appearance. The actor playing Maggot protested bitterly and had an appropriately unhappy look on his face as the clippers roared (in close up, please!) through his locks.

Carly, the juvenile lead in another soap opera, was diagnosed with a rare cancer that of course required chemotherapy which of course meant no hair for Carly. The actress playing Carly demanded a hefty bonus and the producers, unwilling to lose her and unwilling to give up a heartrending storyline, paid up. Carly made a full recovery but not before being a baldy for three months. Caitlin had watched the initial shearing, keeping an impassive face and somehow managing to chat with other production staff who’d come along for moral support as the company hairdresser sheared away Carly’s voluminous curls. Carly howled bitterly as her hair was firstly cut off recklessly with scissors and then buzzed off with a guardless pair of clippers. Caitlin felt a rush between her legs as the first bare patch of skin appeared at Carly’s forehead. It was all she could do to hang on to her arousal as Carly’s head was firstly clipped clean then lathered and shaved completely bald with a razor. A quick rush to the bathroom saw Caitlin bring herself to the orgasm she’d been containing; she leaned her head against the toilet door, bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, and surrendered to the most passionate orgasm she’d ever had. She dug her fingers into her own wildly curly, long brown hair and wondered it would feel like to have it all shaved off, which made the orgasm even better.

Margot, the housewife in the same series, had to undergo an image change. Margot’s children were grown and Margot was about to re-enter the workforce. Her old-fashioned motherly bun would be lopped off into a short, smart bob and given a brown rinse to get rid of the grey. It would be inspiration to middle-aged women everywhere. The actress playing Margot was pleased about the brown rinse but less than pleased to lose the long hair she’d had since her student days in the 1960s. Her haircut appeared on screen, shot on location in a hairdresser’s. It was one of those risky things where you only had one take at it. Margot managed to deliver her lines, “Oh, I want a complete change, I want to look like a Managing Director,” with a bright smile on her face which had to remain fixed as she watched her locks drop to the floor and her knees.

Teenage character Jarod went from being a polite public schoolboy to a skinhead, and his shearing was an on-screen one too, with his new skinhead gang friends standing around the barber’s chair and cheering as his shiny brown locks were peeled from his head.

And six months ago there had been Tahnee, the pretty blonde teenager who was Margot’s daughter in the soap. Tahnee’s hair was waist length and wavy. In a cruel twist of scriptwriting, Caitlin had decided that Tahnee and Margot would have a huge fight, with Tahnee deciding to shock her mother and get a crewcut. The girl playing Tahnee didn’t like it one bit, but the contract she’d signed said she’d have to do it or leave. She offered to leave. Management offered a bonus. Tahnee got more fan mail from eager young viewers than anyone else in the series. Her beautiful face ensured she could wear a crewcut easily, and she actually started a trend with copycat teenage girls everywhere sacrificing their locks to the clippers. Tahnee’s haircut wasn’t without drama though. She insisted that the lopped off hair be turned into a wig she could wear offscreen. She sobbed and hiccuped the entire time her hair was being sheared in the studio salon. She almost made Caitlin feel guilty. Almost. If she hadn’t been so turned on.

And now Caitlin was feeling the urge again to write yet another dramatic image change into one of her soaps. It had been over two years since Jarod had turned skinhead (which lasted six months, he now sported shoulder length hair), and Caitlin had never written a female character’s haircut into this particular soap.

She considered the storylines and plots that were weaving their way through her mind.

Kay and Anton had been dating each other on screen for 18 months. They’d been a lovey dovey couple all along, with Kay’s shining dark red hair her key feature. The character Kay was a real girl next door. She was a secretary who’d constantly refused advances from her amorous boss. Anton was a telephone salesman. The script had seen him have six jobs in as many months. He was lovable, a bit old-fashioned in many ways, but totally unreliable. Was he the right guy for Kay? Caitlin pondered. What if Kay decided she wanted more out of life than a bloke who couldn’t hold down a job? What if she didn’t want to be the girl next door any more and decided to change her image? Yes, with the aid of an image consultant! Someone who could convince her that with the right looks she’d get further in life. And Anton wouldn’t like what he was seeing and they’d fight and break up. Of course six months later they’d get back together as Anton would have pulled up his socks by then. Oh yes! Caitlin grinned. She got busy on her laptop.

Predictably, the actress playing Kay – whose real name was Rachel – threw a beautiful actress’ tantrum.

“No way!” she yelled. “I don’t want a wedge haircut! I don’t care if it IS fashionable! I like my long hair.” She threw the script onto the floor.

The Producer, Matt, winced. The Director, Evan, grinned. He was used to hysterical actresses. Caitlin said nothing. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

Evan said, “It’s a great storyline, Rache. And we know how highly this show rates. We want to be the leading edge soap when it comes to fashion, it really gets the viewers in. Look at the letters we’ve had lately. Some of the viewers don’t like your current wardrobe. The young girls don’t identify with you any more. They don’t want to be a secretary like Kay. They want to be something exciting. We see Kay as having an image change and then, take a note of this, Caitlin, it’s a brilliant idea, a whole career change. What about Kay becoming famous? When a… a… TV show host visits her company to interview her boss, he notices Kay and asks her to try out for a TV presenter job. Hey, that’s great! What do you think, Caitlin?”

“Inspired, Evan,” Caitlin said smoothly. Yup, it WAS a good idea. She scribbled some notes. “Kay can be pursued by celebs, it’s a great excuse to get guest artists onto the show for cameo appearances. And she can decide that it’s not them she wants, it’s Anton after all. And Anton is so dazzled by her that he wants to win her back and really gets his act together. I love it!”

“Why can’t I keep my hair long?” grumbled Rachel.

“‘Cos it’s a total image change,” Evan told her. “What do you think about some light red streaks as well?”

Of course, Rachel had no choice but to go through with it. The rest of the cast thought it was a wonderful idea.

Caitlin had scripted it so that “Kay’s” haircut was another that was done on screen, with the key shots being the first locks of hair falling from Kay’s neck, a few random images of the rest of Kay’s long hair being cropped, and Kay’s face eagerly watching her transformation (which would require some real acting, Caitlin thought). Finally they would show Kay sitting with foils in her hair and the finished article being blow-dried to perfection.

Filming was set for next week. A local hairdressing salon had been hired for the day and an actress who’d been a hairdresser for years until switching careers would do the deed.

Like many of the actors and team on the soap, Caitlin turned up for moral support. She sipped the horrible instant coffee while Rachel’s hair was washed, and, with fingers that trembled, threw the plastic cup in the bin as Rachel was seated in the chair. Setting up the lights and camera had taken ages; Rachel’s hair washing was the last thing they did before filming commenced.

“Oh, Kay,” cried the image consultant gushily, “I think this style will bring out the real you. The modern woman inside.”

“Who wrote this crap?” muttered one of the production team, and Caitlin tried not to giggle.

The hairdresser sectioned up Caitlin’s hair.

“Okay,” said Evan. “we only have one shot at this. Literally. Look happy, Kay. Excited. You’re about to undergo a transformation. Now Adele, can you move a bit to the right? We need a clear shot of Kay’s neck. Can you still cut her hair from there? Okay, fine. And… ready… roll camera!”

Caitlin had a perfect view of the first locks of Kay’s hair dropping heavily to the floor. Adele cut it off to her hairline. She kept cutting until Evan called, “Cut!” which almost had Caitlin in hysterics. Didn’t he mean “don’t cut”?

They filmed the entire haircut, with Adele being prompted to say reassuring things like, “You’ll look like Kate Moss with this hairstyle,” and the image consultant keeping up a patter about how the red streaks would suit her new wardrobe.

Caitlin was in heaven, watching all the hair fall away and the short wedge gradually take shape. It took almost three hours to cut off Kay’s hair as Evan kept changing camera angles and getting Kay to put a happy expression on her face as she watched her precious hair get lopped to earlobe level.

It was well into the afternoon when Evan finally declared a wrap and Rachel/Kay was left with a sexy, short wedge that really made her look spectacular.

The film crew packed up. It was a much quicker procedure than unpacking. Rachel sipped some white wine which someone had thoughtfully packed for her, and muttered that she wished she’d had it before her haircut to dull the pain.

Caitlin congratulated her on her new look. Rachel just grunted.

The following week Caitlin wandered into the studios for the weekly production meeting. As usual she was early. The meeting room was empty save for the photos the studio photographer had taken of Rachel getting her haircut.

To Caitlin’s dismay, she saw herself in the crowd, smiling broadly, in several photos. In another photo the look of intensity on her own face was frightening. It was clearly obvious she was getting her kicks out of watching Kay’s hair get chopped off. Bloody hell, she thought, I didn’t see these photos being taken.

The door shut quietly behind her. Caitlin paid no attention; she assumed it was Evan.

It wasn’t.

“You’re a sick bitch, Caitlin Marshall,” said Rachel. “I’ve done a bit of research on you since I saw these photos last week. You’ve planned at least five little image changes for people, and every time you’ve watched them get their hair cut off. Looks to me like you get your kicks out of it.” Caitlin thought quickly. “Not at all, Rachel. I just offer moral support.”

“Bullshit.” Rachel came up behind her so quickly, and snapped a pair of handcuffs on her wrist, that Caitlin wasn’t prepared for. “Nice cuffs, aren’t they? Borrowed them from props. Hope the hair doesn’t bugger the locks up.”

“H-hair?” wondered Caitlin. She thought she knew the answer.

Rachel was strong. Very strong. Her wiry arms pushed Caitlin into the nearest chair.

Caitlin’s heart thudded. She was both terrified and hopelessly turned on, knowing instinctively what was going to happen. Her own hair, that wild, unkempt mass of curls that sprang from her head as if it had a life of its own, was going to be sheared like a sheep.

“Hair,” Rachel confirmed, with a smile that was pure evil. “Let’s see how YOU like losing your long hair. I’ve written a little script of my own, you see. New actress Caitlin Marshall plays a scriptwriter who’s been writing short haircuts into scripts for long-haired women. You see, this little scriptwriter gets off on watching women get their hair cut. She’s weird. And in my script she finds out what it’s like to have her own hair cut off.” The flash in Rachel’s eyes told Caitlin she’d crossed the line from anger to insanity.

Shit, thought Caitlin, she’s lost it. Gone bananas.

Caitlin pushed up out of the chair, using her legs and body as a lever, and tried to butt Rachel out of the way so she could get to the door.

Rachel was too quick for her. “Now, now, Caitlin dear. That wasn’t in the script.” This time she took a length of rope out of her carrybag and bound Caitlin firmly to the comfy chair. “Do I have to gag you as well?” There was eager salivation at the side of her mouth.

Caitlin shuddered. “No.”

This wasn’t in the script either, this whole episode. The script for Caitlin’s life ensured that she kept her hair while those around her were losing theirs. Oh, Caitlin didn’t like it one bit when another scriptwriter took over!

She watched wordlessly as Rachel plugged in a pair of clippers. At least, she thought, they’ve still got a guard on them.

Caitlin deduced that even if her head was totally shaved it would have grown six inches in a year’s time. That wasn’t too bad.

To her horror she found herself getting aroused, the aching between her legs increasing as Rachel, laughing, flicked the clippers into life.

They buzzed hungrily. Rachel taunted her, waving the clippers back and forth in front of her face. “Let’s see, just WHAT can we do with that curly mop of yours? Hmm, if I cut it to a couple of inches long it’ll be an afro. Oh dear, we can’t have that. So unfashionable, isn’t it. And our little soap opera has to be at the CUTTING edge of fashion. So we’ll just have to cut it shorter, won’t we. And you’ll know that if you try and grow it you’ll have a lovely afro to look forward to while it grows.” Rachel laughed again, and plunged the clippers into the thick forest of Caitlin’s hair.

Caitlin gasped as the blades tugged at the hair at her forehead, shearing it away on their fast, furious pass over the top of her head. They were cheap clippers, and dragged at her locks as they cut. She winced until they finally lifted from her crown, and dreaded to know what she looked like with a shorn path down the middle of her head.

“Oh, much better!” cried Rachel. “When it’s this short, it’s not curly any more. You can have straight hair for a bit. Won’t that be fun?”

Caitlin said nothing. Torn between fear and pleasure, she was in turmoil, and closed her eyes as she heard the clippers return to her forehead.

They ploughed into her hair. She couldn’t feel the hot, buzzing blades against her scalp, so she knew she wasn’t being shaved to the skin. Well, yet, anyway.

Her soft corkscrew curls fell away, tumbling over her shoulders and back. The clippers screamed with the effort of biting through them.

Rachel wordlessly clipped off all the long hair on top of her head, brushing it with her hand when she’d finished, which brought a fresh flood of anguished desire to Caitlin’s clitoris. It felt so good, so odd, so sensuous to have super short hair. She must never let Rachel know it. Caitlin put a pained expression on her face and decided she might have a career in acting after all.

Roughly Rachel pushed Caitlin’s head to one side and dragged the clippers up in front of her ears.

Caitlin gulped a bit when she saw the many inches of her well-tended curls drop onto her knees.

“Not much fun, is it?” Rachel said conversationally, pushing Caitlin’s ear forward and buzzing away the hair that grew around it. “Having a short haircut when you don’t want one.”

“N-no,” Caitlin managed, hoping the wetness between her legs didn’t seep through her jeans and give the game away.

One hand firmly held Caitlin’s head in position while the other pressed the clippers firmly against her skin, nibbling off all the long curls at the side of her head. Then Rachel switched sides, and the whole exercise was repeated; first in front of her ears, so she had no long hair at all left around her face, then the buzzing around the ear, then firm sweeping strokes up her head that sent mounds of hair to the carpet.

“Head down,” ordered Rachel, pushing Caitlin’s chin almost to her chest.

Caitlin’s head felt tight and odd where it had been shorn. The warmth of her hair caressed her neck, but for how much longer? “Oh God,” Caitlin whispered, almost climaxing in the chair as she waited for the clippers to touch her nape.

Rachel gathered up all the long hair at the back of Caitlin’s head and held it in a loose ponytail. Caitlin’s neck was naked and vulnerable, clean and white, just waiting for the blades.

The plastic guard was warm as it crept up her skin and sank into her hair. Crackling and popping, the clippers buzzed Caitlin’s nape to exquisite shortness, and rode over the bump of her occipital bone. Again and again Rachel buzzed up the back of her prey’s head until the ponytail was severed.

She dumped it on Caitlin’s lap. “How do you like your hair now? When it’s all cut off? Years of growing it – cut off!” Rachel jerked Caitlin’s head up and looked into her eyes.

The tears that had formed were tears of agony trying to hold back the world’s biggest orgasm, but Rachel was satisfied that Caitlin was feeling remorse.

The entire shearing had taken less than ten minutes. Five of those were securing Caitlin to the chair.

Caitlin and Rachel jumped as Evan’s hand banged on the door and Evan’s voice shouted, “Who’s in there? We’ve got the room booked for ten, you know.”

Rachel hastily began tidying up, throwing the clippers into her bag and picking up the mounds of hair from the floor. She untied Caitlin. “You say a word and I’ll catch you again and shave your head,” she threatened.

Caitlin said nothing. She rushed to the little bathroom off the conference room, and gasped when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

She was clipped to a number two, she estimated, so short her flat little ears almost stuck out. So short her skin was nearly visible through her hair. It felt so soft, so feathery. She unzipped her jeans and thrust one hand between her legs. The other caressed her shorn head, and the orgasm which instantly followed nearly made her faint with its intensity.

By the time she’d recovered, and splashed cold water on her face, the conference room had filled with the production management. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the bathroom.

“My God ! Caitlin! What happened to your hair?”

“Caitlin! Have you joined the Army?”

“Did you lose a bet?”

“Why did you cut off all your lovely curls?”

Rachel stood wordlessly at the back of the room, her savage eyes warning Caitlin to keep her mouth shut. Or lose what was left of her hair.

Caitlin smiled. “Rachel handcuffed me, tied me up to the chair Evan is now sitting in, and cut all my hair off as revenge for last week’s script.”

As Rachel shouted, “You bitch! Remember what I said!” and the room erupted in outraged exclamations, Caitlin kept smiling.

Now the script was back in her own hands, and it was just the way she liked it.

The end

(c) Copyright 2000, Sabrina S. Comments welcome to sabrina.s@zdnetonebox.com

 

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