More Fool Me

Five o'clock rolled around a bit faster than normal that day, perhaps because the unknown loomed before her like a cloud. Missy had called Fran to let her know that she would be late, and was relieved to find out that her lover would be tied up on a job until well after ten pm. Whatever task she was facing, she at least would have a couple of hours to acclimate before facing Fran.

Chapter Four

Samantha had left work early that day and had taken up a position to observe her prey as she fulfilled the task Sam had in store for her. It was a rather plain looking semi-detached, but the upstairs window was a perfect perch to watch as Missy pulled up in front.

For a good five minutes, Samantha watched as Missy sat in her late model Volvo. She wondered what thoughts must be coursing through her head at that moment. It certainly wasn't obvious what was about to happen, the house having no markings or signs to indicate what service was provided there.

Finally, Missy emerged and with a somewhat determined expression on her face approached the front door. Samantha heard the ring, and immediately turned to direct her attention to the television screen. It had all been arranged, and her close friend Susie was more than willing to play accomplice. She settled into the sofa for the show.

"Hello. You must be Missy. Please, come in." The woman, who appeared to be in her fifties ushered Missy into a room towards the back of the house. Only when she entered did Missy realize what was about to happen.

A large mirror graced one wall of the room, and a rather comfortable looking chair sat facing it. It was no different than any other salon chair one would see. Missy suddenly felt her legs get all wobbly, and she wondered if she would have the nerve to go through with whatever was planned for her.

"My name's Susie, and your friend told me exactly what you wanted." She hung up Missy's coat on a hook fastened to the back of the door, which was now closed. Susie set about closing the blinds and indicated that Missy could lay her clothes in a small box that sat on the floor. Hesitating only for a moment, Missy began to disrobe. At the end, she set her shoes on top, leaving her totally naked, and standing somewhat awkwardly in the center of the room. Seeing that Missy had finished, she picked up the box and left the room with it. "Be right back, dear."

Missy had never felt more exposed in her life. Stripping completely naked in front of a complete stranger and then being separated from her clothes, caused Missy to feel incredibly aroused. She quickly glanced between her legs to see a small drooling spindle of juice escape her pussy. "Oh my god." Missy felt as though she might actually faint, but before she went arse over tits, the woman returned and gently guided her to the chair.

Samantha watched in complete awe as Missy Phillips was reduced to a quivering naked mess. She had once thought of the woman as one of the strongest people in the office. Now Samantha knew better. She had watched as the silvery glint of liquid slithered to the floor between the woman's legs. She was definitely getting off on this treatment.

She slipped a hand inside her panties, unable to resist pleasing herself over the spectacle unfolding before her. She had done this. "How the mighty have fallen."

By now, it was no secret what was about to happen, and Missy sat nervously in the chair pondering her fate. She waited for Susie to cast a cape around her neck but was surprised when she approached her without. "This is quite a change for you, but I have to say, I admire your courage. I especially like the naked approach." Susie ran a brush through Missy's shoulder length hair, the blonde ringlets springing back as each stroke completed its course. "Are you quite sure, dear." Susie asked.

Missy very nearly ended the whole thing right there. This woman, who probably had no clue as to what was really going on, was giving her an out. I should take it, and run, Missy thought.

Samantha hadn't foreseen her friend offering Missy a chance to escape, but then pulled herself closer to the television to see the expression on her face. For a moment there was indecision, but then that same resolve she had seen as Missy marched up the walk, returned.

"Quite sure." Missy sighed, not even certain to what she had just consented.

Shock would have been a mild description of what Missy was experiencing as the woman began slicing off great hanks of hair from her head. She watched in the mirror as her tresses were quite quickly reduced to a choppy pixie.

Samantha had slowed her stroking, as she observed the transformation taking place on the screen. She didn't want to come just yet. This was too good not to remain aroused for.

"Well. That's the bulk of it gone." Susie remarked. "How are you faring, love?"

Missy had slumped into the chair, until she realized that her freshly shaven pussy was wide open and on display. Looking up she saw herself in the mirror and had to fight back the tears as she realized what had been done to her. Just at the edge of the reflection, her gaping sex was visibly wet. Pushing herself up into the chair, she turned to the woman. "I'm fine."

"We'll keep going, then. This won't take a minute." Susie assured her, reaching into a drawer for something. Missy nearly gasped as she saw the clippers in the woman's hand. She toyed with a few plastic pieces, finally deciding on the one that had apparently been agreed on and attached it to the business end. "Here we go."

The loud pop of the machine coming to life was nearly more than Missy could stand. She closed her eyes as the buzzing monster made contact with her forehead and pushed firmly into her hair. Stroke after stroke, Missy's head rocked back and forth, the woman working them in all directions. The coarse rasp of the blades began to fade, until the strokes were nearly silent; only an occasional 'sszzz' as the last of her hair surrendered.

Samantha lay in a heap on the sofa, having come at least twice during Missy's de-tressing. She couldn't believe she had actually gone through with it. She could have stopped; insisted that Susie give her a nice, reasonable haircut. Despite her obvious excitement over her task slave's submission, she felt a pang of worry. This was surely going a tad over the mark, and Sam knew it. She pulled in closer to the television; Missy was gutted. The look on her face as she saw her reflection for the first time was disturbing, to say the least.

"I'll need my clothes." Missy said, almost inaudible. Looking again at her reflection, Missy could 't help but run her hand over her freshly shorn head. Susie hadn't shaved her, but very nearly. She could easily see her scalp through the quarter-inch of hair that remained.

Susie was busy sweeping up the mass of golden locks that surrounded the chair. "Is it alright? It is what you wanted, yes?" She enquired, thoughtfully.

"Just a bit of a shock, is all." Missy groaned, catching her reflection in the mirror as she rose from the chair, still quite naked. "My clothes?"

"Oh. They're out by your motor, in the box." Susie grinned. "Seemed a bit naughty to me, but I'm just following instructions." She put her finger to her lips. "I can go get them for you, if you like." Susie offered.

"No." Exasperated, Missy knew that the short exposure from the door to her motor was the least of her worries now. "Bit of a lark, but I'll play along." It was dark now, anyway. She looked out the window at the top of the door, noticing that a street lamp hovered annoyingly directly over her Volvo. Ordinarily, she would have been pleased. For obvious reasons, this only made matters worse. Worried, she didn't see the box.

"I set the box by the boot, love." Susie insisted, opening the door for Missy as if pushing her out.

"My money is in my bag, and that was in with my clothes." Missy said, concerned.

"No worries. Everything's paid for." Susie offered, and closed the door, nearly hitting Missy in the backside as she did. The crisp night air was biting into her exposed skin as she eyed her path suspiciously. The stoop gave her some modicum of concealment, and she felt fairly safe as a motor drove by.

Not hearing anything coming, Missy dashed down the gravel drive, the small pea-sized stones digging into the sensitive soles of her feet. To make matters worse, several stuck to her feet as she reached the walk, the cement accentuating the pain. "Jesus, fuck!" She cried out.

The pain turned her around, and as she did, she managed to catch a face peering out of an upstairs window. It was familiar, and she stood stock still until the person realized she had been seen.

The sound of an approaching vehicle forced her to grab the box, and after locating her keys, toss the lot into the passenger side ahead of herself. Once in the relative safety of her motor, Missy looked back to the window where she saw the face. It was dark, and she knew that whomever was there, was gone.

Driving to an empty lot, Missy pulled over and dressed herself. As she pulled on her jumper, the material felt odd against the stubble that remained on her head. How am I going to explain this to Fran? Missy pulled the mirror towards her and sighed, as she once again ran her fingers over her bristled knob. "Fucking hell."

All the way home, the image of the woman staring out the window haunted her. She knew that face. She had to be the one; the one that was doing this to her. It would make sense that it would be a woman; she was in the ladies' when she was caught.

Missy thanked her lucky stars that Fran was out until later. She thought of purchasing a wig, but in the end, there would be no way to conceal this from her lover. Fran is going to go mental. A wig might very well be needed at work, at least until her hair was a reasonable length. She could picture Mrs. Alexander as she walked in, a skinhead. That wouldn't go over at all; in fact, she could guarantee the woman would be gobsmacked. She might even be sacked. One thing for certain, she would need to ring in sick the next day.

Pulling up the office network on her notebook, she scanned the employee profiles until the face in the window jumped out at her. "Samantha Roberts," Missy seethed. "that fucking bitch." She pulled up the woman's full personnel file and hit print. Ordinarily, Missy would never have had access to those files, but due to her having trained several new employees, human resources had granted her a temporary status.

In the three-page dossier, was every bit of information on Samantha Roberts she could ever want, or need. Missy had her home address, her mobile, make and model of her motor, and even her relationship status, which happened to be single. There were also two disciplinary notices for tardiness, which placed her under threat.

Getting the woman sacked was not nearly enough to account for everything she had put Missy through. I would be as easy as causing her to be late one morning. That was far too easy. No, Samantha Roberts as going to pay for this, in spades.

Missy jumped as the keys rattled in the door, having faded on the sofa with the telly on. For a moment, she completely forgot her appearance and hopped up to greet Fran in the hallway. The foreign coolness on her scalp quickly reminded her of her lack of hair. How am I going to explain this? She questioned. The truth is always best, especially since I have it all.

"Jesus H. Christ! What the fuck did you do?" Fran screamed. Missy instantly burst into tears, Fran's outburst too much for her delicate state. "Oh, baby." Fran grabbed her and pulled her in. Her hand inadvertently ran up the back of Missy's head. "Jesus, Mis, you're practically bald."

"I'm sorry. I am so, fucking sorry." The tears continued and Fran held on.

"Your hair, baby." Fran felt on the verge as well. "Your beautiful hair."

"I'm being blackmailed, Fran." Missy admitted. Starting at the beginning, she explained to her partner the bind she had been in, and how she had been forced, under threat to obey this woman. Reluctantly, Missy handed Fran the personnel file.

Fran scanned the document, the anger in her eyes so severe that Missy was afraid she would do something drastic. "I'm going to kill her." She snarled. "Your shaved quim, was that her too?" Fran tossed the papers on the table, having gleaned all she needed from them.

Missy was almost afraid to admit it, but she slowly nodded. "I want her to pay, Fran, but not like that." Missy warned. "God, you'd end up in the nick."

"She's the one that should get nicked, but that's too good for her. I think I know just what to do, Missy" Fran scowled.

"And what's that, then?" Missy raised an eyebrow, and Fran couldn't help but chuckle.

"That look is going to take some getting used to, baby. It's not terrible; just a bit of a shocker." Fran ran her hand roughly over Missy's head, causing her to roll it playfully.

"You still love me, yeah?" Missy questioned, a forlorn sadness overcoming her.

"Missy Phillips. You're more to me than your hair." Fran hugged her. "You daft cow."

"Well, that's good, because this lot is going to take an age to grow back." Missy attempted to pinch her hair between her fingers but failed. "God, it's really short, n'it?"

"Yeah. Better watch it or the skinheads'll be after you." Fran joked.

"God forbid."

Chapter Five

Samantha couldn't wait to see Missy as she revealed her new look to the office. There would have been no way she could have found a wig to wear. She wondered what people would say, what her supervisor would do.

For a moment, she fret about whether Missy might have seen her the night before. It was dark. There's not a chance in hell she could have seen me, Sam thought. She hovered at her work station, the powers that be having invested in standing desks recently, something she had mixed emotions over.

Keeping an eye on the lift door, just visible from her spot, she waited and waited. Finally, with some amount of frustration, she simply walked down to tech support to see for herself, convinced that she had simply missed Missy, while she was reckoning a bill.

Samantha's heart sank as she found Missy's desk empty, the chair pulled up tight beneath and her computer monitor dark. Must have pulled a sickie. Samantha seethed, working her way back to her office at a slow roll. Can't say that I blame her.

She pulled out her phone and watched the video she had recorded; the last minute of Missy's devastating haircut. Of course, the full version was on a pen drive, safely hidden in her desk at home. Deprived of the much-anticipated reaction at work, Sam would just have to settle for a recording of the event itself.

Samantha smiled as she watched the buzzer pass mercilessly over the shrinking woman's head, the hair falling in clumps over her naked shoulders and breasts. Her face was contorted into a grimace, her eyes firmly shut. What a laugh.

"What you watching, then?" Rod asked, having snuck up beside her. She hoped that she was fast enough with her finger to blacken the screen before he caught who was in the video. "Fancy a drink later?" Seeming to be ignorant of the content.

"What? Uh, I—" Samantha stammered.

"Oh, come on. It is Friday, and the pub'll be brimming." His enthusiasm was putting her off.

"Who's going?" She pursed her lips, prepared for him to try and make it exclusive.

"So far, just Morey and me, and you if you'll come." Rad offered.

Samantha sagged, trying to think of a way out. "What about that other girl you're always pestering, Missy. I'll go if she does." Congratulating herself on her devious play.

"Missy? Not a chance. She rang in sick." He slumped. "Besides, she's not on side."

"You mean she's gay?" She considered feigning ignorance, but then thought better of it. "It's common knowledge, you tosser."

The rest of the day was spent wondering whether what she had done to Missy was over the mark. Not being at work, I don't know if she's ever done that before? Now she had the whole weekend to think about the repercussions of what she had done. The other stuff was embarrassing, humiliating, but this; this was somewhat disfiguring, even if was only temporary.

Deciding she needed a drink, she met Rod and Morey at The Plough, and the place was overrun. Samantha didn't really mind the crowd, or the din of laughter and raucous conversations. It took her mind off something that had been gnawing at her all day. She said very little as the three stood shoulder to shoulder at the bar. What if she did see me?

*

"Doesn't this seem a bit extreme?" Missy inclined, unconsciously running a hand over her closely cropped head, something she had been doing often that day.

"Can't keep your bleeding hands off it, can you." Fran accused. She had helped Missy pick out a wig, having driven all the way to Sheffield to find the one that suited her best. For now, it remained on the foam head in Missy's bedroom. "We got you that expensive wig, and here you're not even wearing it?"

"I only need it for the office, Fran. It's hot, and it itches." Missy admitted.

"Three-hundred quid, and you go bald anyway." Fran groaned.

"Does it look that horrible?"

"You can pull it off." Fran ran her fingers over her lover's head. "I mean, I loved your hair the way it was, but you look good. A bit rad, but good."

Missy chuckled, still nervous over what her lover had talked her into doing. The small, nearly undetectable cameras they had installed in Samantha's bedroom and bathroom were up and running. Missy had been nervous about involving Rod Taylor in the scheme, but after he saw what Samantha had done to his office crush, he was more than willing to play along.

Fran's expertise with locks had come from helping her uncle in Leeds with his locksmith shop, and she still possessed the tools of the trade. Had she ever been stopped with the picks, she would have been nicked for carrying them.

"I can't help feeling a bit like a cat burglar." Missy said as they locked up and stealthily snuck out of the building by the rear steps.

"The difference being, we didn't take anything." Fran explained, holding the door as they made their way towards Fran's Mini. They had both agreed that it would have foolish to drive Missy's Volvo, just in case anyone was a little bit more than casually observant. "Now, we wait for the good stuff."

It had only taken a minute for Missy to hack into Samantha's wi-fi network and connect the cameras. She couldn't help but peek through the drawers and coming across a pen-drive inserted it into her notebook. It took all her willpower not to erase the thing once she learned what it contained. She couldn't give Samantha any clue that they had been there. What she did do was even more devious.

Delving into her bag of tricks she had picked up inadvertently at uni, she loaded a timed tapeworm onto the pen drive. After a week, the file would unpack, and destroy not only everything on the drive, but also anything it had been plugged into.

Fran tossed her bag onto the floor by the door, and headed for the kitchen, intent on fixing them both something to eat. Missy, exclaiming how dirty she felt after their clandestine operation, slipped into the shower. Upon emerging, the air was full of spices and the wonderful aroma of Thai.

"You know I love your cooking, but you've never made Thai before." Missy slid up behind Fran and pressed her hips into her. "It always lights a fire in my belly."

The food was excellent, and Missy allowed Fran to feed her coconut battered ice cream, fried to perfection afterwards. "Did you enjoy that?"

"You know I did. Now you have to let me do the washing up." Missy carried a few of the dishes into the kitchen, but Fran was having none of it.