Now that my face finally emerges from the mass of unruly electrical wires that had been my hair for all my life, I mentally heave a sigh of relief. The uncertainty I had felt when I first walked in here — magnified by Gina’s raised eyebrows, has been cut loose and is quietly disappearing with each strand of dead protein that surrounds me. Carla is right again, as usual.
I am amazed at how Carla can awe me and turn me on at the same time. She has a way of pinpointing the essence of any given situation, dead on. How she ever saw past all that mass of my orange whirlwind and knew that my face would be better off being framed by a short, little boy’s haircut, I would never understand. She said something about my cheekbones and a sparkle hidden in my eyes. I assumed at first that it was only her optimism and strange confidence in me. No one had ever believed in me as much as she did.
Considering how I had been horrified with the thought of setting foot in a salon, even for regular trimming, how I had the courage to walk in here in the first place, with the firm resolve of changing my hairstyle so drastically, is still a mystery.
“Well, okay, I admit,” Gina, my stylist is saying. “Your eyes do kind of pop now.”
“Pop”: that was the exact word that Carla had used, too.
Carla also commented that a stylist who failed to see that I should never have allowed all that hair to hide my features did not deserve my business. I finally agree. Gina did a good job today, though. Maybe I’ll look for a new salon later.
Once I am a block away from the salon, I whisk out my phone to take a selfie and send it to Carla.
“Woot!” She replies within seconds. “That’s my gorgeous girl.”
I smile. “Am I?”
“Oh come on. It’s obvious how goooooorgeous you are!”
“No, I meant, am I your girl?” My heart gallops in my throat as the seconds tick by. I don’t know where this bravery comes from, maybe cutting off my hair has also snipped away cumbersome caution in me.
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not teasing you.”
“You said you weren’t ready for a girlfriend.”
True. It was a shock when I first found out that Carla desired me. In my confusion, I held her off with the lame excuse of “not ready for a relationship.” But that had been three weeks ago. After the initial surprise wore off, I eased back into counting on her as my best friend; until I found myself replaying every clever thing she said in my head whenever we were apart, and I couldn’t wipe the image of her off when I was in my bed at night.
People talk about soul mates. I think I have found mine in Carla. She understands me, truly cares for me and protects me, mostly from myself. When a deep friendship and companionship like this develops romantically, does it spell doom, or can it be heaven on earth?
I have been afraid and timid all my life. Maybe it is time I learn to become more like Carla: strong, confident and never regretting anything in life.
This past week has been physical torture. I fantasized about getting lost in her full lips, opening her blouse to expose and explore her voluptuous body, and I ached to taste her. It seems my body has caught up with my feelings at last, and now, I have made my decision: Carla is to be mine. “I wasn’t sure then. I am now.”
“I don’t go half-way. If you want me, you get the full package.”
“I want you, Carla.” A full minute passed. I wonder if I’m too late; perhaps she has lost interest in me already.
“Then be prepared. I’ll fuck you blind tonight. Be at my place at seven, sharp.”
Bio of the author: Anna is a shameless romantic, lifelong bookworm, and chronic daydreamer. She writes erotic romances for the fiercely loyal at heart. Catch her typing naked at her blog: Anna Bayes.