Cutting her hair, at one time, would make her cry. It was such a horrible experience
Utter fear would grip her upon sitting in the chair knowing she was at the mercy of the hairdresser
Red hair ringlets defined the core of who she was and were her pride and joy, so she was so particular
Letting the electric razor zoom across her scalp, she smiled.
Suck it, cancer! She would grow back stronger.
Black hair slowly pulled through his fingers
Releasing the locks he began to get to work
Unkempt snarls scraped by, but he gently unraveled them
Soon he was able to sweep his hands through easily
Her moans of pleasure reminded him how much he liked being a hairdresser