“Why?” I ask as I continue to roll around on the bed, luxuriating in how soft the mattress is.
“Because it makes me want to fuck you.”
I pause my rolling to pretend glare at him. “And that’s suddenly a chore?”
“No. It’s something I want to take my time doing. Which we don’t have because the party starts in an hour.”
I scoff. “It takes you that long to get ready?”
“It does when I want to shave my head.” He runs a hand over the stubble on his skull, and I realize it’s the longest I’ve seen his hair.
“Can I do it?”
“Shave my head?”
“Yeah.”
George regards me as his teeth dig into his lip. “Sure.”
Excited, I hop off the bed and follow him into the large bathroom. The tub is big enough to fit us both. I might need to take a bath later.
He digs through his bag, then sets down the clippers and glances around the bathroom. “Where do you want me to sit?”
“Really? You’ll actually let me? You don’t even know if I’m any good at it.” Still, I step forward and claim the trimmer, not wanting him to change his mind.
“Are you?”
“You’re lucky because, yes, I am very good.” I point to the edge of the tub, and he settles, the seat putting him low enough that I get a good view of his head. “You have a perfectly shaped skull. Did you know that?”
George snorts and bumps his shoulder against my hip. “Thank you. How did you get to be very good? Did you go through a shaved-head phase?”
“No. I’m too vain.” With a twitch of my chin, I send my red strands flipping over my shoulder. “Plus I think I have a lumpy skull. The look wouldn’t work for me.” I check the clippers to make sure they’re clean. Then I stroke my palm over the bristles regrowing on George’s scalp. Just because I enjoy the feel. “I cut my mom’s hair forher. She likes to keep it short. I also used to take care of Billy’s, although he’s been growing it out lately.”
In the mirror I catch George’s frown.
“He’s not growing it out because I’m bad at trimming it,” I add, in case he’s having second thoughts.
George reaches back to squeeze my calf. “Of course not.”
“You do a uniform cut, right? Number one for the whole head?”
He smirks. “Have you been studying my perfectly shaped skull?”
Leaning down, my lips brush his ear. “Only because it looks so good between my legs.” Then I nip his earlobe and George lets out a grunt.
“You can cut my hair later.” He tries to stand, but I hold him in place with a hand on his shoulder. “You need more time to stare at my head.”
Laughing, I press kisses to his scalp, then shoot him a stern look in the mirror. “Sit still, Bunsen.”
He sighs, then does as he’s told.
The clippers buzz to life in my hand, the vibration familiar. I’m careful as I start at his sideburns and work my way up with steady strokes. There’s a freedom in not having to worry about different lengths. Trimming his hair becomes almost meditative, my body relaxing as the minutes go by.
“There.” Done, I meet George’s eyes in the mirror to find his lids have gone heavy, while his stare has turned hot. “What do you think?”
His eyes hold mine. “That was the best haircut of my life.”
I pluck at the shoulder of his shirt. “You should take this off. To clean up.”
