Mark Thompson came into her life and swept her off her feet, literally. They met in a ballroom dance class their freshman year.  He was not only the best looking guy in the class, but also the best dancer and the only one who could dance with her without having difficulties with her hair. It seems the other guys had trouble negotiating her hair even if it was in a long braid or giant bun. Eventually Natalie would only dance with Mark, and they kept dancing together even after the class ended. Dancing soon became dating, and after several years they married. Apart from making love to one another, dancing remained their favorite activity together. They branched out into swing, country-western, and salsa dancing and loved them all. Natalie, with Marks help, learned how to put her hair up into a remarkably stable and comfortable French Twist which she wore whenever they danced. Mark loved her in that French Twist, and loved even more later pulling out the pins and watching the creation come tumbling down. He always took his time and was always sort of disappointed when he ran out of pins to pull out as it was such an arousing experience for him. Those nights always seemed to bring out their most passionate lovemaking.

Mark and Natalie Thompson were a young, married couple barely squeaking by financially. Not that they complained, because they loved each other entirely and knew these college years would be tough. Both were full-time students working part-time jobs to pay the bills. That $3,000 prize could buy them the wonderful honeymoon they never had. $1,500 could get them a memorable spring break later that year. Even $500 would be great!

As they read the details of the contest, Mark started lovingly stroking Natalie's thick, dark, thigh-length hair. It was that hair that originally attracted him to her, because it was so shiny, so healthy, so full, and so long you couldn't help notice it. When he learned the rest of Natalie was as wonderful as her hair, he knew there would be no other woman in his life. That night, the two of them lie in bed in their small, 1-bedroom apartment. Dinner conversation totally involved the party and the contest and how nice it would be to win all that money. Both of them loved Halloween and already had $100 set aside for the event this year for costumes, etc...  Halloween was still four weeks away. That was good because neither of them had any idea what their costumes were to be this year. At least this theme would make that much easier. The problem was, with everyone dressed in 50's attire, what could a couple do to stand out for the judges?

"I've got an idea," said Mark.  "Let's visit my Aunt Anita this weekend. She was in her 20's during that time and might be able to give us some ideas that others don't think of. Heck, the way she never throws anything out I wouldn't be surprised if she had trunks full of clothes from that time in her attic."
"That's a great idea! I'll call her first thing tomorrow and let her know we are coming.  I'll bet she has some great stories to tell about those days."

With the dilemma put on hold for the time being, the couple shut off the lights, snuggled up to each other, and were soon fast asleep.

Aunt Anita dearly treasured her relatives, and Mark and Natalie were tops on her list, probably because they appreciated everyone and everything. Natalie shared the story of the contest and asked if Anita could help. A huge smile beamed on her face and she led them to her attic. There she dragged out an old trunk, and with a wink opened it up revealing a wide assortment of old clothes, plus a scrapbook. Anita gently thumbed through the book until she came to a newspaper clipping with a picture of a young couple that just won a dance contest. Natalie and Mark were stunned to discover that person was Anita and the late Uncle Roger.  They had no idea they were dancers, much less ever won a contest.

"This is a great picture.  Look at the clothes, the hair, it all is just so much fun," Anita said.
"And the great news is, the outfits are in this box, perfectly preserved, and I believe with a little adjustment would fit both of you."

The young couple was now sure they were on to something, as these outfits would certainly draw the eye of the judges and be the envy of their competition.  The couple looked at the hairstyles.  Roger had a flattop, that looked fairly long on top but very short on the sides and back.  Anita had her hair done in an absolutely huge bouffant.

"That was some hairdo, huh?  It took a hairdresser hours to create it, a ton of hairspray to keep up, and hours to undo. But it sure impressed the judges. It made us stand out from all the others."

Natalie's smile quickly changed to total disappointment. Neither of them could pull off these looks without cutting off lots of hair.  She certainly wasn't willing to part with her long hair, nor would she dream of asking Mark to part with his. While Mark's wasn't real long, it was longer than most men were wearing these days, and she loved it. She thought he looked a bit like David Cassidy during his stint on "The Partridge Family," however a bit of gel and hairspray each day kept his drawn back neatly and partially disguised how long it was. When wet it covered all of his ears, hung down several inches below his collar, and his bangs could touch his nose if combed forward. Anita sensed her concern.

"Use your head Natalie. Go to a wig store and order a bouffant wig. They still make them for occasions like this. And Mark doesn't have to cut his hair, just slick it back. That would still look pretty good."  Mark agreed with her.
"We've got $100 saved for costumes, and since we have outfits here we can use that money for the wig.  We'll be fine."

Natalie smiled and agreed, but wondered if pretty good would be good enough.

After an hour of calling wig shops, Natalie discovered that no one had any quality bouffant wigs in stock, and she would have to special order. With only three weeks till the contest it was going to be tight, but Wanda's House of Wigs was confident the wig would be in with a week to spare. Natalie and Mark went down to the shop, explained to Wanda what they were looking for, and were thrilled to find some really outstanding choices.

"We have to go for the biggest one Natalie,"  Mark said.
"We want to stand out from the crowd."  Natalie agreed, and since the biggest one also was only $80, it was in their budget, and so the order was made. It was absolutely huge, and would rise nearly two feet above the top of her head.  She giggled inside at the notion of herself in such a crazy hairdo. This was obviously much bigger than any stylist could accomplish with someone's real hair, but that was part of the appeal.  She wanted to be the center of attention, and so size did matter.
"We will have it in by the contest, right?"  asked Natalie. "This is real important."
"I don't see any problem with that," Wanda said.

Natalie prayed she was right. As they drove back home, Natalie was very quiet, lost in her own thoughts.  Mark knew that look and did what he always did, kept his distance and didn't push things. He knew she would let it out when she was ready. Natalie was ready, and couldn't believe what she was about to say.

"I'm going to ask a favor of you, and please feel free to answer no. I just think it is important otherwise I wouldn't ask it."
"OK, what is it?"
"I think you should get a flattop like Uncle Roger had in the picture. Everyone is going to slick their hair back, and you said yourself we need to stand out.  You have the right kind of hair for it, and it will grow back relatively quickly, and I promise not to make fun of you while it does."

Mark always had hair longer than the norm. There was a time when he had a pony tail trailing far down his back.  He never had short hair, and certainly never anything like a flattop. At times he'd wondered what he'd look like with short hair, but he'd never had the guts to try it. Now he had the excuse and the permission of his wife to try it. He was willing, but wasn't going to make this easy on her.

"There is only one way I'll agree to that"
"What?" Natalie asked half expecting the worse.
Dramatic pause.
"You make love to me every night until it grows back."
Natalie's face beamed brighter than ever.  "And then some." God, did she love this man! She laughed to herself as she started trying to picture her husband sporting a flattop.

With two weeks before the contest, the costumes were fitted and perfect. A trip to the Goodwill Store and Various Thrift stores produced the correct shoes, socks, and jewelry for $11. Mark had done some researching and found the best barber in town when it came to flattops. His name was Albert, and over the phone he said he'd been cutting hair for 35 years and there was no version of a flattop he couldn't duplicate. Mark had an appointment scheduled the afternoon before the contest. His cost, $6. They were going to make it with $3 to spare, but Mark planned to give it to Albert as a tip if the final look
actually met his expectations. Natalie called Wanda for news of her wig. No wig yet, but it wasn't expected for another week.  Natalie hung up very tense. She never liked waiting until the last minute. Mark knew this and had a brainstorm to take her mind off things.

"I've got a great idea, let's practice some Jitterbug stuff and other dances from that era so we can really show off on the dance floor.  It will help us stand out even more."
"That's a great idea, but we've got to plan for the fact I'm going to have this 2 foot tower of hair on my head. That will limit our moves and definitely be a challenge."
"I never even thought of that.  Then I guess we have some work to do."

For the next week the couple practiced their dancing every day, and Natalie practiced her make-up techniques until she could find the perfect look. Although she never said it out loud, she was actually anxious to see what Mark would look like in his flattop. Now all she needed was her wig. However she never heard from Wanda, and by Friday, with only 8 days before the contest, she couldn't wait any more and that morning called the shop. Wanda could sense the urgency in Natalie's voice, and indeed was growing impatient herself. She always prided herself on her service. Since this was an unusual order with a smaller company she didn't know what was going on.

"I'll find out for you Mrs.. Thompson, and I'll get back to you today.  I promise."

Natalie was shaking when she hung up the phone. She could already picture them winning the money and going on a fabulous vacation. They had covered all their bases. This one item, out of her control, was the only drawback. What if it didn't arrive in time? Hair down to your knees was not a common sight in the 1950's and certainly not what one thinks of when picturing the ideal couple from that period. Not even one of her buns, braids, or big French Twist was a look she felt could keep them in the running. It had to be that big bouffant. All she could do now is wait for Wanda to call back, and pray that the news would be good.

The phone rang at 10:54 AM. It only rang once before Natalie picked it up and rapidly said hello. A startled but heavy-hearted Wanda gave Natalie the news she didn't want. The company, based in Asia, was incapable of producing anything due to a worker's strike. The wig wouldn't arrive in time, nor could any other company get one in on time.

"I feel just terrible," Wanda said. "This is the first time anything like this has ever happened to me. If you come in maybe there is a wig in stock that would work or we can modify to work for you.  I'll give you 50% off."

Natalie told Mark what happened, and Mark knew this would be a tough road to ride out. Natalie really had her hopes set high, and her enthusiasm was very contagious. She had an entire wonderful honeymoon all planned out with the winnings. He had to admit he was almost as excited as her, even looking forward to his appointment with the barber. He advised her to go down to Wanda's right away.

"Maybe we can luck-out and find something that would work."

Wanda tried everything and then some to help Natalie, but she had her mind set on that 2 foot bouffant and nothing else would do. After thanking Wanda for her trouble she left the shop empty handed and very depressed.

"I don't know what the point of going to the contest is now.  I just won't have the look that can win. You might as well call that barber and cancel your appointment.  I was so sure we would win too."

Mark hated to see her this way, but he also hadn't given up yet. He had an idea in mind, but needed to research it before he shared it, if he shared it, with his wife. When they got home, Natalie excused herself for a trip to the library. That was one place she often went to lose herself in other worlds when depressed. She would stay there until it closed and they kicked her out.  Mark actually was happy to see her go as it gave him the opportunity to see if his idea had any chance of success.

The phone book had 77 beauty salons listed, with 14 more in the nearby communities. He got out a pen and paper and wrote down his questions.

His wife wanted her hair put up into a giant (2 feet or higher) bouffant for a  costume party. Her hair is all one length, straight, and nearly to her knees. She didn't want it cut, permed, etc... or have any permanent damage done to it.

1) Was this even possible?
2) What would be involved?
3) How long would it take?
4) How much would it cost?
5) How would they return her hair to normal after the party?
6) Was there anyone there who could do this?
7) Could this person do it that coming Saturday?

He started by calling the larger, more ritzy salons. Surely they would have the top stylists there who could do such a creation.  He discovered nothing but disappointment. Most said it was impossible, others said they wouldn't even try, and others just laughed at the notion. None would give any referral at all. So much for the main salons:  27 down, 64 to go. Next he called the salons that supposably specialized in long hair. What he discovered this meant is that they enjoyed perming and cutting long hair. No luck here either. The one good piece of advice he got was that he needed to look for an older hairdresser who was around when such styles were the norm.

"Today's stylist have no training in such creations."

Still no referrals.11 down, 53 to go. With the smaller shops he started getting more information. As he had expected and worried about, the style would require a tremendous amount of teasing. His wife had never, ever, teased any part of her hair, and that word was an absolute sin around her. It would also require a good deal of time, plus lots of hairspray. His wife did own a bottle of hairspray which she very sparingly used to keep flyaways in check when she did her buns and French Twists. So maybe the thought of using a fair amount of it wasn't pushing things too far. The good news so far was that some people were willing to give it a shot, though their laughter at the idea didn't give Mark a great deal of confidence in the outcome. They also felt, since her hair was so healthy, that a one-time teasing wouldn't do any damage at all. Taking it down would take a lot of time, probably hours, but it would be possible. He also starting getting referrals to different shops and ladies. By 4:30 PM the list was down from 53 to 14. He also had 6 referrals to a lady named Lorna. If anyone in town could do it, she was the one. Her shop line had been busy for the past hour, and he was losing hope at getting through. There was still time, but he really
wanted to have something definite for his wife that evening when she came back from the library. One last try for the day. He got through! After telling the receptionist his predicament, he was both relieved and surprised to find that she didn't laugh.  Either she was great at hiding her emotions, or this was just another customer whom they could help. Whichever was the case he would find out soon, because the kindly voice of Lorna came on the phone. He explained his predicament and asked his questions. She was very polite and came across completely confident. Yes,  she believed the style was possible. She would like to see Natalie's hair in person before giving a definite yes or no. This was the first person Mark had talked with to give this answer. All the others just said yes or no. He found his trust in Lorna growing. As expected, the style would involve a tremendous amount of teasing, hairpins, and hairspray. She would need Natalie to come in with her hair clean and dry unless she wanted to spend a great deal longer in the salon to have that done. If she came in with her hair clean and dry, the whole process should take about 2 hours, worst case scenario. Cost would be $50. Lots of tender loving care and conditioner would return her hair to normal. If her hair was really as healthy as stated, she couldn't imagine any damage occurring from just one instance of teasing, even if it were to the extreme. Lorna plainly said she was the one for the job. While she didn't normally work on Saturdays she would for special occasions, and this certainly qualified.  She could be available at 1 PM.  She had done this type of style countless times over her career, even with hair this long.

"There have always been people with long hair, and hopefully there always will be," she said.  Then she added the one line that sold Mark. "Even my own hair is to my waist."

Mark scheduled an appointment for his wife to come in that coming Tuesday, and reserved the Saturday time slot. He knew he had a big-time salesmanship job to pull off, but was confident if he could get his wife into that Tuesday appointment and meet Lorna, she would complete the deal. He thanked Lorna and bid her farewell until Tuesday, and then hung up the phone. He suddenly realized he had become very aroused at the idea of his wives hair arranged in this tremendous bouffant. Since they always had such great sex on French Twist nights, what would that night be like? Mark hurriedly took his mind off things by preparing a simple but tasty dinner for he and his wife who should be returning from the library shortly. This plan was a long-shot, but he was getting more confident with each passing moment. They wanted to stand out from the crowd. Imagine how much they would stand out with his wife in a 2 foot bouffant made from her own hair. Although he sometimes didn't like to admit it, his wife was very well known on campus because of that hair, as it attracted constant attention from men and women alike everywhere she went. That familiarity with others could really work to their advantage with this contest.

Natalie was in by 6:30 PM. Since the library closed at six Mark could have predicted to the minute when she would walk into the house. Mark hoped that she might have thought of a similar plan so he wouldn't have to push his idea on her.

"Any new thoughts about the contest?" he asked her.
"Just that I'm not going."  Mark sat down next to her and looked straight into her eyes.
"If there was a way we could still go to the contest and have an even better chance of winning then we would have had with that wig, would you be willing to consider it?"
"Of course," she said, immediately coming to life.  Then she put one hand on her hair and asked cautiously, "What did you have in mind?"  Mark told her of his efforts that afternoon, of his dead ends, and of the path that led him to Lorna.  He then went into detail about her, and why he trusted what she said. He left out one fact for his trump card.  Natalie listened respectfully to his every word, always touching her hair which she draped forward over her shoulder.  She wasn't sold and her body language and expressions made it obvious to Mark.  He was still smiling, for he still had his trump card to play.

"All I ask of you is that you meet Lorna on Tuesday with an open mind."
"Why should I trust this woman?  How do I know she won't destroy my hair to make a buck?"
Trump card time.
"Because she has long hair too."  That made the impact he hoped, as she suddenly perked up.
"I believe she can put it up, and I'll help you take it down."
A long pause to ponder.
"You'll do more than that. You'll be totally in charge of taking it down. I don't plan on lifting a finger or feeling one bit of discomfort."
"As you wish my queen."
"I'll go and see her Tuesday, but I'm not making any promises besides that. If I don't totally trust her, the deal is off."
"Fair enough."

The weekend for Natalie was one of extremes of emotion, all surrounding this contest, and more specifically, her hair. Fear- that her hair would be ruined and have to be cut off. Enthusiasm- an answer that if true could give them an even better chance at winning the contest. Pessimism- that once Lorna saw her hair she would admit the task was impossible, or even worse that after hours of torture at the hands of this woman the final style would fail dismally.  and finally, Curiosity- wondering what the experience of having her hair put up into such a style would be like. After all, it was a total deviation from what she had been doing with her hair for the past 10 years. In fact, it was something she didn't even think was possible.Was this a chance to do something wild and radical and not suffer a penalty for it?

Tuesday finally came, and Mark and Natalie hopped into their car and headed towards Classic Looks Salon and a meeting with Lorna. She was there to greet them, and Mark was glad to see that she was wearing her hair down. True to her word, except for thick bangs her hair was down to her waist, and although it was mostly grey, it looked very healthy. Lorna must have been in her 60's, but her energy was that of a much younger woman. As soon as she saw Natalie she ravished her with compliments about her gorgeous mane. After their initial introductions, Natalie gave Mark a look he knew too well. This was her decision and she didn't want his input. He was to wait in the car and these two ladies would take things from here. He excused himself and went outside, sat down behind the wheel, and watched the conversation through the window. First Lorna closely examined Natalie's hair, feeling it, and inspecting the ends. Natalie had the facial expression of a child expecting a bad grade prior to opening a report card. Then they started talking and his wife starting smiling. This was a good sign. Lorna left and brought back some kind of scrap book for her to look through. Natalie studied each page closely, looked amazed at some pages, laughed out loud at others. Sometimes she would stop on some pages and pointed and asked questions, and other pages Lorna did the pointing. Mark could only guess at what they were looking at. Perhaps a book of hairstyles from that era.  The book looked old enough to be from the 50's anyway. The two ladies spent only five minutes together, but to Mark it seemed like an hour. He knew his wives happiness or misery (heck, his happiness or misery) for the next week or more was being decided inside and he was helpless to do anything about it. Lorna was getting to the end of the book now, and his wife was shaking her head at the same time she was making an expression he knew too well. She was making her decision. The two politely shook hands, Lorna went off rather quickly, and Natalie left the salon. To Mark this quick exit was obvious to figure out, his wife had decided not to go for it.  An expressionless Natalie climbed in the car, sat down looking straight ahead, and took a deep breath.

"I'm going for it!"
"That's OK, I understand you not wanting to...... What?!  By the way you two left so quickly..., and you shook your head..., and she ran off..., I thought you had decided against it."
"That just shows how little you can read women.  I shook my head because I couldn't believe I was actually agreeing to this. She ran off because she had to get a client out from under a hairdryer."
"Was that a stylebook you were looking at?"
"That and much more.  You were right that she's done such styles before.  There were pictures in there of her and other clients, some with hair longer than mine, and many of the creations she has done.  Plus pictures of how they were done, and how to undo them.  I guess I'm not the first fearful, reluctant client she has had."
"Did you decide on a style?"
"Pretty much.  I pointed out some things I like and didn't like but I'll leave the final thing up to her. She knows what we are looking to accomplish and says I won't be disappointed.  I already trust her, especially since she has long hair, and some of those pictures were of her own hair.  I know one more thing."
"What's that?"
"I love you!  Thanks for going through all the trouble to research this for me." And with that she reached over a planted a long passionate kiss on her husband. "And you are going to have your work cut out for you taking this thing down," she smiled.
"Perhaps not.  Maybe I'll like it so much we'll just leave it that way.  Then Lorna will have to take it down every week when she redoes it."
"I think not!"

And the two of them shared a good laugh for the trip home.  It was the first time Mark had heard his wife laugh in days.

The Saturday schedule was complete. Get a great night's sleep. Have a leisurely brunch. Then Mark would drop Natalie off at the shop at 1pm,  then head out and get his flattop.  Then it was back to the Salon to pick up his wife. Return home. Practice a few dance moves with her new 'do. Then relax until the contest that evening. Whatever the outcome of the contest, it was going to be a day to remember. It was also a day both were actually looking forward to, albeit somewhat nervously.

Saturday finally arrived and Natalie couldn't sleep. She was anxious about the day ahead of her and having some second  thoughts. She had spent much longer than usual that morning brushing her hair, enjoying the sensation, the feel of it against her naked skin, the way it flaired out when she turned her head. She trusted Lorna, but still part of her felt her hair would never be the same. For a few minutes she sat and cried, though she wasn't sure why. Mark had no problem sleeping, but then he never did. Natalie envied this about him. She could lose sleep over anything.

After a healthy brunch the two jumped into their car and headed out for their respective appointments. While Mark drove, Natalie flirted with his hair, grabbing handfuls of it and giving it a slight tug. After today it would be some time before she would be able to do this again. He might even like short hair, in which case she might not ever be able to do this again. Mark had his right hand alternate between resting on her thigh and stroking the ends of her hair. A little part of him feared the worst, that her hair would be so damaged or tangled it would have to be cut, but he refused to voice or even show his concern to his wife.  Since the whole thing was his idea, he knew he would feel guilty forever if things truly went wrong. In no time they arrived at the Classic Looks Salon. Mark walked his wife to the door, stroking her hair the entire time. They stopped in their tracks for a moment as they noticed the closed sign posted in the window, but then saw Lorna inside motioning them to come on in. He gave her a hug and looked into her eyes.

"I guess the next time we see each other we'll both look pretty different."  She ran her hand through his hair one last time.
"Go get your flattop honey."
"Remember your promise, we make love every night until it grows back."
"Remember your promise. Tomorrow I expect to wake up with the same hair I have right now."
"As you wish."
Mark gave her a last hug, and held the door for her.
"Take care of this woman Lorna, she means a whole lot to me."
He turned and walked away towards his car. He now noticed he was shaking and he could feel his heart beating rapidly.

Lorna smiled warmly at Natalie.
"Would you like some background music?"
"Sure, that would be nice. Where is everyone?"
"Oh, we close at noon on Saturdays.  We're the only ones in the place. Do you have a station you want to listen to?"
"Whatever you'd like."

Natalie had to smile when Lorna turned on the oldies station and tunes from the 50's and 60's starting filling her head.  What a perfect choice for this occasion.  Lorna gathered up all the scissors sitting on the counter and stored them away in a drawer. Then she motioned to the first chair.

"Are you ready for a dramatic change?"

Natalie nodded her head none too convincingly. She took a deep breath and sat down.  Lorna placed the robe around her neck and pinned it in place.

"Relax my dear, you are in good hands.  This is going to be fun, and the finished result you are going to love!"

She started stepping on the chair pump and the chair starting rising quite high so Lorna could easily reach her mane's entire length. Then she took out a brush and gently started brushing the hair to get all the tangles out one last time. It also had a relaxing effect on her client. As she worked Natalie noticed that Lorna had her hair up in a bun today, but not a normal tight bun. This was a very large, poofy bun, more than twice as big as any bun Natalie had ever worn. It looked very stylish on Lorna. She wondered if it was fake hair placed over her real bun.

"I love your bun.  How did you do it?"
"Just some teasing honey.  As I said, when you know how to do it you can get away with it fairly often without damaging the hair.  And I'm going to take just as much care with yours."
At that any last fears Natalie had were washed away, and her spirit of adventure overcame her inhibitions.  She flashed a smile.  "OK, let's have some fun!"

As Mark drove towards Albert's Barber Shop he found his hand constantly touching his hair, especially on the back and sides where he knew soon he would have almost no hair left. He also kept looking at himself in the mirror trying to envision a flattop looking back. He was nervous, but in an excited way. This was actually going to be fun. He saw the small shop up ahead on the right. His heart was starting to pound again.

Lorna finally finished brushing out Natalie's hair and it looked glorious. It was also the most gentle brushing Natalie had ever experienced. This was not a woman who wanted to damage people's hair. The two ladies were engaged in a lively conversation about the 1960's and what it was like back then, especially the styles and attitudes. Lorna picked up a large container of hairspray and started lifting Natalie's hair in all directions as she layed down a thin layer. The spray had a definite scent to it, which reminded Natalie of the beauty parlors her mom used to visit.

"A mist of spray helps the backcombing have more mass," she explained.

When she finished a light coating of all the hair Natalie noticed it already looked bigger. She also knew what was coming next and her heart started pounding hard. Her hands, hidden by the salon robe, were knuckle white on the arms of the chair. Lorna sensed her tenseness and just smiled as she reached for her teasing comb. Then she walked around behind her client and gathered up all of Natalie's hair and made sure it was draped down behind her. She stepped on another pedal, and the chair lowered all the way down so that Lorna now easily looked upon the top of Natalie's head. Natalie's mouth was now dry as she nervously watched Lorna separate out the front and center section of her hair and position it for her teasing comb. Would it physically hurt? It always looked painful to her watching others do it, like it was yanking the hair out of their head. She looked at Lorna to see if she seemed concerned at all, but the stylist was totally relaxed. Natalie closed her eyes as the teasing comb sank into her hair close to her scalp. She could feel it rapidly moving up and down in her hair and was relieved to find no painful effect. Instead she experienced the unexpected. It felt like her hair was becoming lighter. It was a very unique feeling. She could feel the comb moving further away from her scalp, and the volume by her scalp quickly multiplying. She opened her eyes to watch with the amazed acknowledgment that she actually enjoyed this sensation. Lorna was now half way through this section of hair and had to start stretching her arms to their fullest extent as she reached towards the end. It seemed only 1/2 as long as it had been, but the volume was now doubled. No! It was now at least 4 times the volume! Lorna finished with this first section and neatly tossed it forward so it hung down in front of Natalie's face. But it didn't hang! It kind of arched over like a brunette rainbow, it's mass trying to pull it down, and the spray and teasing trying to get it to stand up. Natalie just stared at it as she felt Lorna prepare another section for her comb. This time she watched the entire backcombing process with the section and again strangely found the feeling pleasurable. A genuine smile appeared on her face.  Lorna saw the smile and chuckled to herself. This was not the first time she'd seen this reaction. The toughest part of this session was now behind her. The second strand was tossed over the first. Natalie realized these arcs of hair would soon block her view of the process. She vowed to soak it all in as long as she could, and followed the skilled movements of "her" stylist. It was obvious the plan of attack was to work from the front to the back, as Lorna began teasing the front section of the left side of her head. Then she switched over to the right side.  Each finished strand was tossed in front and the giant mass steadily grew. Natalie could no longer see through the hair in front of her face, so she closed her eyes and tried to vision the process as she enjoyed the feel of this "dreaded" comb. This was certainly not what she expected to be feeling during this point of the styling process. She was anxious to see the finished teased mass. She also wished she brought a camera for a picture of it.

Mark parked the car and walked through the Barber Shop doors 10 minutes early for his haircut. He held in his hand Aunt Anita's scrapbook so he could show the picture of the flattop he wanted. He couldn't remember ever being in a barber shop (he always went to men's styling salons for his haircuts) and all his preconceptions were formed by watching TV shows and movies. It was much smaller than he expected, and darker. He was concerned to see 3 men sitting down reading magazines or watching a ball game on TV. His appointment was for 1:30, and he didn't wish to wait. One old man was sitting in the chair getting what little hair he had trimmed while he watched the game and commented on the recent increase in gasoline prices. Albert the barber (his name was stenciled on his white barber jacket) looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Would you be Mark?"
"Yes, I am."
"I'll be right with you in a minute."

Mark expected this news to disturb the others in the room, but they just went along with their business as if they had no other plans that day. Mark was shaking slightly as he sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs. He looked around. All of the wall decorations seemed 50 years old. There was a paper wall rack selling a plastic hair brush that fit in the palm of your hand. He didn't know they still made this product which he remembered his father using. There was a stand selling various hair-care products he never heard of. There was a magazine rack with worn copies of Field & Stream, Sports Illustrated, Road and Track and Popular Mechanics. On one wall was an old poster with drawings of different types of flattop haircuts. He had no idea there were so many variations. He felt like he just walked into a time-warp. As he listened to the steady buzz of the barber's clippers, he opened the scrapbook to the picture of the flattop he would soon be sporting. His hand unconsciously started stroking his hair.

Lorna was now almost done with the backcombing as Natalie could feel her working towards the nape of her neck. Her head was now pointing down so that Lorna could keep throwing the finished sections forward. Natalie knew there was a huge mass of hair on her head and was anxious to see it. She felt like a child on Christmas Morning. Then Lorna stopped and Natalie heard her walk over and put the teasing comb down. She was almost disappointed and wished she could experience the whole
process over again from the beginning. She could tell Lorna was again misting her hair with hairspray.

"Are you ready to see this?" asked Lorna as she reached forward and under the hair to pull it all back.
"YES, I mean yes," was her response, trying not to be to obvious in her delight.

Natalie looked straight ahead as the curtain of hair was pulled back, eager to see her reflection in the mirror. She couldn't remember her heart ever pounding so hard. The sight she saw was amazing. Her eyes opened wide. Her hair was huge! It was arching out in every direction. Much of it was standing nearly straight up. Lorna continued misting it with hairspray directing it upwards. When she finally put the bottle down, Natalie felt like a cartoon character who just had a close encounter with an electric socket. She started laughing out loud as she reached and touched it.

"Oh my god!"
"Quite a picture, huh?"
"If only I brought my camera."
"Never fear!"

And with that Lorna went into the back room. Natalie turned her head this way and that. She was amazed. She would never guess that her hair was so long as now it reached no further than her lower back. She touched it and felt like she was touching a fluffy pillow, not her hair. Lorna hadn't put enough hair spray on for it to be sticky, though she anticipated that more hairspray was to come. Lorna walked back in with a small, one time use camera.

"Shall we take a picture?"
"You bet!  My gosh, you think of everything! This is hilarious."
"I'll take pictures throughout the session, and then give you the camera. If you want you can get two sets of prints and give me one set for my scrapbook."
"You have a deal."

Natalie liked the idea of being immortalized in Lorna's scrapbook. For the next several minutes, the two ladies clowned taking pictures of Natalie and her giant wad of hair. Some were plain shots for the book, but others were definite tongue-in-cheek.  Natalie was now glad her wig never came in. She was having a great time, and regardless of the contest results this evening, she would remember this Halloween all her life. She wondered how Mark was doing.

The elderly gentleman had just paid, and Albert waved an invitation for Mark to sit in the huge barber chair. He sat down and looked straight ahead as the barber draped his cape around him and fastened it securely around his neck. It was at this point Mark noticed one big difference between this barber shop and where he normally got his hair cut. He was facing away from the counter with the big mirror, and there was no mirror the direction he was facing. What was the purpose of the mirror if he couldn't watch the haircut? He hoped the barber wouldn't make a mistake, because there would be no way to know until he was done. He felt his heart pounding even harder.

"If I recall you're here for a flattop?" Albert questioned.
This was his last chance to back out.  The thought did cross his mind.
"Y-y-yes, for a Halloween contest tonight".

Mark fumbled to get the book out from under the cape and opened it to the correct page. The others in the room showed mild interest. He found the picture and handed it to the barber.

"I want one exactly like that."
"A little longer than normal on the top, short on the sides and back. No problem."
With that he set the book down on the counter still open to the news clipping of the dancing Aunt Anita and Uncle Roger.
"Are you sure you can do it?"
A group chuckle filled the room.
"Yes. I can."

He straightened the cape once again, then went back and got a water mister bottle and comb. With a few quick squirts and some combing he quickly wiped out the style Mark had worn for as long as he could remember, and now knew exactly how much and what kind of hair he had to work with. The barber then went back, grabbed a pair of clippers, and started to clean and oil them. How would he start this haircut? Mark figured he would do the top or back first, and the sides last. The sudden whir of the clippers jolted Mark and told him the cut was to commence, and he felt a thrill much like climbing the lift hill of a roller-coaster. The barber walked to his left side and once more combed the hair over his ear. So much for Mark's theory of starting on the top or back. The whir grew louder as the clippers closed in. The comb quickly lifted the hair in front of his ear, and with a flick of his wrist the clippers bit in and a huge chunk of hair fell to the cape in front of his left shoulder. It just then hit him he was really doing this and he was about to lose a great deal of hair.  He clenched the arms of the chair tightly, all  the while pretending to be relaxed. This was a roller-coaster, fun and scary at the same time. Two more quick strokes, and more big chunks fell to the cape. He could feel his ear no longer had any hair covering it. The left side of his head felt lighter and cooler. The barber certainly wasn't wasting any time as the strokes kept coming. He felt like he was in an army movie where the new recruits are shorn in record time. Huge chunks of hair fell with an audible "plop" onto the robe. He wished the barber would take his time so he could enjoy the process more. In a way he wished he had a mirror to watch the procedure, but he also found not being able to see, leaving things to the imagination, quite a thrill. Maybe that was why there was no mirror on this side of the room. Albert walked behind Mark and tilted his head down slightly to work on the back. At this angle he could clearly see all the hair on the apron. There were huge handfuls that his wife had loved to play with now lying there. How long would it take to all grow back? He could feel the clippers now biting at the base of his neck. This longer hair put up a bit of a fight and then suddenly was gone followed again by the light, airy feeling. These chunks of hair fell directly to the floor, barely making any noise upon impact. Maybe Albert sensed that Mark wanted this to last longer, because he seemed to slow down just a bit. The comb/clipper combination continued running up the back of his head. Mark no longer was gripping the chair so tightly. He was just starting to relish all the sensations. The barber was now working his way around to the right side. Mark's head was returned to level, and he could feel the hair over his right ear being lifted by the comb and then quickly clipped off.  He watched the others in the room casually look over once in a while and smile at this "rookie" in the barber chair.

Lorna rolled out a cart with several shelves on it and placed a large bin with hundreds of different size clips and pins in it on the top shelf. She then positioned the cart to be close at hand.

"We always start these styles from the back," she said as she once again tilted Natalie's head forward and threw the huge mass of hair over it, blocking her view of the creative process. She could feel the hair at the nape of her neck being directed upward, smoothed, and twisted slightly. Then a row of pins placed at various angles was inserted.  It felt like they were going all the way up the back of her head. True to her word Lorna was extremely gentle, and not once was there even the slightest discomfort. Finally Natalie heard the hairspray bottle again come to life, and felt her now bare neck cool off as some spray hit it. Lorna was being much more liberal with its application this time. Although she knew the answer, Natalie still asked the question.

"Are you sure this thing will stay up through an evening of dancing?"
"My dear, this "thing" will stay up until you decide to take it down. It could stay up for days if you wish."
"How did I know you were going to say that?"

Lorna pulled back the curtain of hair again, and Natalie once more looked at her reflection in the mirror. This was even more amazing. Her hair in back, now pinned and forced upward, rose up more than a foot over the top of her head before the length starting bending back down. She was shown the now finished back section with a mirror, and it looked stunning, with a slight french twist flavor running up the back, and none of the pins even remotely visible.
"Amazing!  Can we get another picture?"
"If you'd like."
There was another break in the action for photos.  Then Lorna got back to business.
"Now you've got a decision to make.  We're going to do the very front next. You can chose to have a center part, a side part, or no part at all.  It won't affect the rest of the hairstyle so it's just a matter of personal choice."
Natalie had absolutely no idea, so she passed.
"What do you think?"
"I've always liked the side part.  It seems a little more sophisticated, daring, and sexy."
"Those sound like three good reasons to me.  Sold!"

The two ladies giggled as Lorna directed her attention to the front. Natalie was feeling a close bond of friendship with this woman. They dove into another lively conversation. She started understanding why  women used to enjoy going to the beauty parlor every week to have their hair done. She envisioned the room full of stylists working with their "regulars" who all knew one another and were busy keeping up with the local gossip. This was not a chore. It was an enjoyable activity with friends.

Mark guessed that Albert was now done with the sides and back and was now ready to get to the flattop. Once again he was wrong. The barber switched to another pair of clippers, one with a slightly higher sound to them, and returned to work on the left side. This time the barber worked slower, and was using his comb more delicately instead of just lifting chunks to be hacked off like before. Smaller pieces of hair began raining down on the cape, and Mark realized that the first run through was just to reduce the mass and make his head easier to work with. No wonder it could be done so fast. The real styling had just now begun. Mark didn't think he had much hair left, but it kept steadily falling. He knew it was getting very short because he could feel the clipper resting against the side of his scalp. He was pretty sure he had almost none left just around his ears and along the back. His head felt very cool and he was extremely anxious to run his hands along it. He starting gripping the armrests again to help resist the temptation. He also badly wanted to turn his head and get a quick look, but didn't want to ruin the impact of the final unveiling. Albert just kept the clippers constantly going, especially on the back where he could feel them against his scalp almost clear to the top.

"Have you ever had a flattop before?"
"No I haven't. Why?"
"You have perfect hair for it. Straight and thick. I won't have any problem training it."
"You have to train it?"
"Sure. It's used to lying a certain way, and now you want it to stand up. You have to train it to go that way."
"The contest is tonight.  Will it look right, or should I have got it cut earlier?"
Mark's heart was going crazy wondering if he made a huge mistake. The barber chuckled, along with the others in the room.
"I know some tricks.  It will be just what you want."

Mark breathed a sigh of relief. But then Albert undid the barber's robe, removed it and shook all the hair off. He couldn't have been done, he hadn't even touched a hair on the top of his head. Mark was now very confused, but started calming down as the robe was gently replaced but allowed to hang loosely instead of tight around his neck. Mark heard what he thought was an electric blender. This was getting stranger every second. Then the barber surprised him by putting warm shaving foam along the base of his neck, around his ears, and along the sideburns. He didn't realize anyone still did this, and remained frozen still as Albert used a straight razor to remove the foam. It came off uneventfully and left a very strong aroma like he used too much of some old-fashioned cologne. Now he was sure he was in a time-warp.

The remaining foam was removed with a towel, his neck and ears rubbed clean and dry, and then the cape was once again tightened for the final stage of this haircut, the top.

This time Natalie could watch every move this professional made. She was good. Very good. Her hair was parted on the right side, and it arched high up some six inches (a little higher than originally planned, but at Natalie's request) before looping down almost to the corner of her left eye, and then up again into the mass in the back. She could see the bend of hair when she looked hard to the left. Several times during this period Lorna had to give it some additional teasing, but Natalie didn't mind at all. Instead she just enjoyed the sensation one more time. Her left ear was now hidden by this wave of hair reaching upward, but her right ear was fully exposed. Lorna explained that this was done so the judges could clearly see this was no wig but Natalie's own hair. Natalie smiled and nodded at her thoroughness. The remaining hair was added to the directed mass from the back, and it was now reaching the staggering heights she requested but never envisioned possible. Lorna protected her clients eyes as she plastered the front with a thick coat of spray. The scent of the lacquer was now very strong, and Natalie was starting to feel like she actually lived in the 1950's.

The barber now paused for a quick glance at the scrapbook picture, then switched on his clippers to work on the top. Mark could feel him lift the hair with his comb and then run the clippers against the top of the comb. The rain of clumps of hair began once more. Albert started at the front, and worked his way to the back. Mark again was worried, based on the length of strands falling around him, that this was going to be too short. The picture clearly showed a long flattop, and the barber even acknowledged it as such. The pass of the clippers was done as the back section was finished off. Mark was sure he didn't have any more hair back there for him to work on. Then Albert brought his comb back to the front again and started repeating the process even shorter! More hair rained down. Why wasn't he following directions?

"Isn't that a little too short?" Mark barely squeaked out.
Albert once again looked at the photo.
"You wanted it just like this picture, right?" he said as he finished off the back section.
A confirming nod. "In that case it still needs to be even shorter."
With that he started a third pass, this time taking it slower as he strove for perfection. The others in the room were watching and smiling, enjoying his panic. Mark knew this was too short. Towards the back he could feel the comb laying directly against his scalp as the clippers ran over it. It was supposed to be several inches long! He guessed he was almost bald. He remembered horror stories from friends of barbers who always cut their hair much shorter then requested.
"It will grow back" was their stock response.
Those stories had kept him from Barber Shops all his life.Would he now have his own terrible tale to tell? The comb lay flat against his head again as Albert blended the back into the top, then he worked on blending in the sides. More hair fell. Mark was feeling slightly sick. Then the clippers were shut off and returned to their hook. Mark wondered if he were done. He could hear the barber doing something behind him at the counter. He didn't know what. He got his answer as the barber sank his hands into the hair on top of his head and massaged in a generous amount of gel.  He was relieved because he could now tell that he still had some hair on his head. His breathing came a little easier now.  The gel had the same scent as the shaving foam. He felt like a walking add for Aqua-Velva. A blow dryer roared to life and Albert started "training" his hair to it's position for the evening. It took him only minutes. Mark knew he had to be almost done.  The clippers came to life yet again. Albert made one slow, scrutinized last pass to make sure everything was perfect. Then he applied a generous layer of hairspray. It also had the same scent as the other products. Finally a small vacuum came on, and the barber ran it all over his head, hair, neck, and face getting off any last remnants of stray hairs. This was the most thorough
haircutting job he had ever experienced. And all he charged was $6?! He had paid three times that amount for half the service. The barber put away the last of his gadgets. Mark knew now was the moment of truth, and he could feel the suspense. The chair slowly rotated around so he could see himself in the mirror.
"That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
Mark stared at a perfectly level flattop. The top was long and standing stick straight up forming a level table. It looked strong enough to hold a stack of books. The sides were very short and shaped so they created a box effect with his head. Around his ears there was almost no hair at all. He was handed a mirror and the chair turned once more so he could look at the back. It was basically bald towards his neck and got only a little longer as it reached the top. From the back the top looked incredibly short. The chair whirled around one more time and he was again facing the mirror. He was handed the scrapbook with the picture to compare. They were EXACTLY identical.
"It's perfect! You did great!"
As the robe was being removed Mark couldn't wait to touch it, but decided he'd wait until he was outside in the car. He took one last look at the  floor and the mounds of hair he was leaving behind. He couldn't believe he actually had that much hair in the first place.
"That will be $6."
Mark handed him a ten. "Keep the change."
"It's appreciated. Enjoy the party, and come back again."

The ladies snapped some more pictures, and then Lorna started dealing with the heart of the hairstyle. Natalie had no idea what Lorna had in mind. She just knew their was a lot of hair to deal with sticking out every which way, and wondered if she could actually achieve that magic two-foot high mark. Lorna was a master conversationalist, and the two were constantly gabbing and giggling as the hair was directed into a giant counter-clockwise beehive. Dozens of various size pins placed from the inside, plus frequent, liberal amounts of spray formed the support structure. It was already more than twice the size of the one Aunt Anita wore for her contest, and still rising. There would be no hiding from view in this 'do. Now the top of the beehive was being formed. It was a perfectly rounded, symmetrical dome. If it wasn't reaching two feet high, it was close. She wondered if there was a style Lorna couldn't do, a height she couldn't attain. A blast of spray and a few more hidden pins sealed the hive closed.  Yet there were stills numerous strands of hair several feet long sticking out from the top of the beehive. Natalie would have to wait a bit longer to see what would become of them, for it was time for more photos.

When Mark stepped out of the barber shop a slight breeze greeted his uncovered ears and the now exposed scalp on the sides and back of his head. His head felt cold even though the temperature out was quite pleasant. It was a very strange sensation, and he almost ran to his car, unlocked the door, sat down and turned the mirror so he could stare at his new look. His hands first went to the back and sides, where hardly any hair remained. He felt only a very light fuzz or no hair at all. The newly exposed skin was very smooth and soft. Then he gently tapped the top of his flattop. It was very stiff from the gel and spray, and sagged down like a bed mattress from his touch, only to pop back up again when released. He tapped it several times like a child with a new toy, each time marveling at how it bounced back again. Then he felt how the sides blended in to the top, as if running his hands over a sculpture. Finally he touched the back part of the top of his head, where he had felt the comb lay against his scalp as the clippers did their work. He was not mistaken, this part of his hair was extremely short. He couldn't even grab a hair with his fingertips. But the flattop was exactly like the picture. Albert was the expert he claimed to be. Mark was shaking.  He had actually done it.  For the first time he asked himself if he actually liked how he looked in a flattop.  He decided since it was such a radically different look there was no way he could say yes or no.  He looked....different.  That was good enough for now.  He buckled up, started up the engine, and headed towards the Classic Looks Salon. He couldn't wait to see the expression on his wives face. Then it hit him. He was so totally engrossed in what he was going through he momentarily forgot what his wife was experiencing. What did she look like right now? The thought of it instantly aroused Mark, an arousal that only grew stronger as he got closer to the salon. At each traffic light, stop sign, or traffic backup Mark found himself again looking at himself in the mirror, and touching his new style. He couldn't get used to seeing such a different looking person staring back at him. He also found real enjoyment placing his hand on the stiff flattop. All his senses were going crazy. He pulled into the driveway of the salon and strained for a peek at his wife. Only the lobby area was visible through the glass. He would have to go in to see her. This was turning out to be a day of adrenalin rushes, and there was so much more to come that evening. He gave three quick honks on his car horn, then waited for some sign that it was OK to come in.

Natalie found her smile growing bigger and bigger as she watched these long stray strands being transformed into elegant shell curls, then neatly attached to the sides and top of the beehive. Since each strand was so long, one strand could form two or three shell curls. The style had attained the requested height. Lorna was about halfway through this process when the 3 blares from the car horn were heard. Natalie didn't hear them over the sound of their conversation and the Supremes on the radio, but Lorna's professional ear did.

"Someone's honking in the parking lot."
"Oh my gosh it must be Mark! I told him not to come in until I signal for him."
"So should I tell him to come in?"
"Of course, but try to sneak a look at his flattop and tell me how he looks."
Lorna went to the window and waved for Mark to come on in. She waited to see him climb out of the car so she could see his new cut. Then she went back for a full report.
"So did he do it?"
"Most definitely. Your husband got himself a real 'groovy' new 'do."
"Does he look good?"
"I'll leave that call up to you."
Natalie looked hard over her right shoulder to see her husband walk in the door, and let out a wide-eyed scream when he finally did with a huge grin on his face and dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.
"Hey momma, how do you like your hunka burnin' love now?" Mark struck a macho pose.
Natalie was jumping up and down in her chair laughing.
"Get over here you clown!"
For the first time Mark looked at his wife and stopped in his tracks. He ripped off his sunglasses revealing stunned disbelief at the sight. His open mouth became a huge smile. It wasn't the only thing huge on his body at that moment.
"Holy Shit!  You really did 'go for it' didn't you?!"
Lorna leaned back laughing inside as the two lovebirds ogled each other for a while.  Then she cut in.
"Excuse me James Dean but I need to finish this masterpiece now."
Mark went back to the lobby and sat at the closest chair to his wife and attentively watched the final work on her bouffant. Natalie was giggling so much she had to apologize to her stylist for disrupting her work.  Lorna set to the task of finishing the shell curls.  Then Mark came up with the observation of the day.
"Honey, you're not going to be able to fit in the car!"
 She never even thought of that, but he was right. She didn't have nearly enough headroom to sit in the seat without smashing her 'do against the roof.
"Oh my gosh he's right. What do we do?"
Again Lorna came to the rescue. "Occupational hazard being a bouffant queen. Now you know another use for reclining seats."
Everyone laughed. Lorna finished the last of the shell curls.
"So what do you think?" She gave Natalie a hand mirror and rotated the chair so she could see the style from all directions. It was mesmerizing.
"It's fantastic! Can I touch it?"
"Let me just finish it off with a last coat of spray. I just wanted to make sure it met with your approval."
She picked up the bottle of spray one last time. Natalie wondered how much of the huge can had already been deposited on her hair. Not that she minded. If Lorna wanted to use several cans of the lacquer that was fine with her. This style demanded stiff hair, and truth be known Natalie would do almost anything right now to prolong her styling session. She was having too much fun.
"OK now close your eyes."
Lorna plastered the entire bouffant with a thick coat of spray. The scent of the lacquer was by now intoxicating to Natalie and she smiled as it was being applied. Lorna put the can down and started removing the robe from her client.
"Now when you have hair this big you have to take some precautions. Riding in a car is different. Be careful of doorways, low chandeliers and things hanging from the ceiling, also gusts of wind can knock you over. Just walking will be a little different, not
to mention dancing."
Natalie started to reach to touch her hair but looked to Lorna for the green light. She was given a nod of approval, and she delicately felt this creation on her head. It was very stiff to the touch (which Natalie found quite exhilarating) and very stable and sturdy. She was worried if she leaned over that it would fall or bend, but after a little testing she discovered Lorna true to her word that her bouffant was there to stay until she (or in this case Mark) took it down. She started vigorously moving her head and found it held up without a flinch. She tried pressing on it and found that it would return right back to it's original position.  Lorna chimed in.
"Before you two leave we have several pictures left on this role. Let's have a couple of shots of the two of you."
She snapped off two adorable poses and handed the camera to her client.  Natalie paid Lorna $50 for her efforts, plus a $30 tip. Then the two exchanged a warm hug.
"I expect to hear about the results of the contest. And remember what I said about taking your hair down. I'll do it for you on Monday morning if you want to wait that long."
Mark thanked Lorna, then held open the door and helped his wife duck safely through it. Then he rushed ahead of her, opened her car door and reclined the seat. She contorted herself into the car, and Mark hopped in, fired up the engine, and the two of them headed home.

On the drive home Natalie had a great view of the back and side of her husbands' head. It was strange seeing almost no hair at all anywhere, and she reached up and touched the slight fuzz he had remaining. This would take some getting used to since she usually grabbed his hair to pull him towards her in heights of passion. At a stoplight she placed her hand on the top of the flattop and delighted in the new experience. Mark also delighted in her touch, and he was so aroused he had to use all his willpower not to explode at that very moment. He looked at his wife.
"I want you so bad right now it's unbelievable."
She put one hand on top of the bulge in his pants.
"My, my, is this all for me?!"

When they got home Mark ran around the car and helped his wife out, then guided her through the front door. After he closed the door, the two of them faced each other, held each other close, and just stared at this very different looking person each had in their arms. Natalie again reached up and touched the flattop, a little more vigorously this time, pressing down on it and watching it pop right back up. Then she ran her hand very lightly forward and back over it enjoying the feel of the level surface, much like you would touch fine furniture. Mark was touching her hair very gently, running his hands along the lines of the side part wave, and delicately touching each shell curl. It was all so stiff, yet he was stiffer. He pulled away momentarily and turned on the CD player to some slow oldies they had practiced to. They began to sway in each others arms. Their bodies pressed against each other. She could feel his excitement. He arched her back and eased her through a slow, sensual body wave. As she came up he kissed her very gently, then eased her into a slightly faster, lower body wave. Her eyes closed in ecstasy. When she came up he again kissed her softly, then harder, then harder. They both started undressing the other to the rhythm of the music, never letting their lips part. (Both wore button up shirts so they could take them off without going over their head.) He removed her black panties and matching black bra. She almost tore his underwear off of him. He lifted her off the floor, and as he stood there lowered her down so he entered her. She wrapped both legs around him. They were still kissing. He again did a body wave with her, and the movement caused him to intensely press further into her. She moaned in delight. He brought her up slow as her nails dug into his back. He moved to a chair and sat down.  She released her legs, thus allowing herself to fully slide down. Again she moaned in pleasure. They started moving rhythmically to the music. Her hands running over his head, soaking in the new sensation of his short hair. He kissed her breasts, slowly sucking and then flicking at her hardened nipples with his tongue. He ran his hands up hand down her back, then up to her neck which was fully exposed. He touched the very back of her bouffant and gently pulled her mouth again to his. He sucked on her lip, her ear, gently nibbled at her neck. She was moaning louder now and would soon go. He could hold back no longer, and was pleased to hear her cry out....
"Come now, please, please come now!"
Their love exploded with a passion surprising even to them. They held each other, drenched in sweat, breathing hard, and gently kissed again. After several minutes sitting there Natalie raised herself gently up and off him, again letting out a moan this time of sorrow that he was no longer inside of her by her own choice. The couple put on their underwear and went to the kitchen to prepare a snack. Mark walked several feet behind his wife studying her hair. It was an amazing site, and he was glad to see their lovemaking had done no harm to it. He quickly looked in the hall mirror and (once again stunned by the person looking back) learned that his style was no worse for the experience either.

The couple ate, then took their time getting dressed for the party. Natalie intentionally overdid her make up. With the size of her hair everything would have to be done up to the maximum. When she looked at the finished creation a huge sense of confidence overcame her. She couldn't imagine any other woman going to the extremes she had for the night. Her husband greeted her in the living room in full dress and both of them knew they would be hard to beat. They practiced some dance steps one last time before setting out so both could get used to dancing with the huge bouffant. Mark even created a comical underarm lead in which he had to jump high in the air to get his arm to clear her towering 'do. They giggled and decided that he had to use the move several times that night in front of the judges. After a quick snack and last checks in the mirror, the stylish 60's couple headed out the door to the contest.

The Special Events Center was an older building with bleacher seating. When rolled out for a basketball game, it sat nearly 6,000 people. With them rolled up the space was equivalent to 4 basketball floors. Tonight they were rolled up and the floor space was alive. There was a bandstand, food and drink section, lots of tables and chairs, and a huge dance floor. With balloons and streamers and banners it looked like a dance party from another era. Natalie and Mark were the center of attention from the time Mark helped her from the car. All eyes turned at their bright outfits, but mostly at her huge bouffant. When people finally recognized the couple (most of their friends didn't at forst) word of their outstanding outfits spread like wildfire. When they entered the gym most people stopped in their tracks to admire the extremes this couple had gone to. All around them were poodle skirts, leather jackets, pony tails and greased hair. Occasionally a french twist, slightly poofed hairstyle, or very tacky wig was seen, but no one went to the extremes of Natalie's 'do, nor did other guys sport flattops who didn't usually have them. Once the couple hit the floor with their polished dance routines, including Marks hysterical "hairdo hop", the floor started clearing and the applause rained down. Natalie's friends asked where she found such a great wig, and were floored to discover it was no wig. Only after some touched and tugged a little at it were they convinced, and then that news quickly made it's rounds through the crowd. When the contest commenced and contestants circled or danced around the dance floor for the judges to evaluate, it was obvious the only question was who would win second and third. It was a landslide victory for Mark and Natalie, and they returned to their apartment later that night $3,000 dollars richer and the talk of the town. There was even a reporter from the paper there taking pictures. When Mark closed the apartment door for the evening, his wife was still jubilant over their new-found fortune. They decided to go with their original plan and use most of it for the honeymoon they never had. Natalie wanted to use a little for thank you gifts to Aunt Anita and Lorna. Mark agreed wholeheartedly. The couple sat down on the couch and relaxed for the first time all day. Natalie looked at her husband, his flattop still as sharp as the moment he walked into the shop that afternoon. She couldn't honestly say she preferred him with the cut, but she would enjoy it while it grew out. She did like how it felt to place her hand on the top. Mark watched his wife take off her shoes. She was now totally comfortable with the tower on her head, and the natural way she moved mixed with the outfit, make-up and hair again had him rock hard. Indeed all night he had been gorged with blood. The fact that his wife looked so different, yet would return to the look he always adored by morning, was the ultimate turn-on. She knew this and constantly played to it. Mark pulled himself next to his wife and again starting running his hand along the lines of her hair. It had weathered the evening beautifully and looked as fresh as the salon that afternoon, even though it has been fondled by numerous admirers and unbelievers that evening, plus the dancing (which included several flips).
"Don't take it down yet honey, I'm not ready for that."
"I wasn't planning to. I was just admiring it. I can't believe you really asked for it so big. I thought at most you'd try to match Anita's 'do."
"I figured I might as well go for the extremes if I was going to take the plunge. Besides, this was more fun, and it's size sure helped us win."
Her hand went to his pants.
"It's not the only thing that's been big all night."
"I hope it doesn't bother you that I've been so turned on all night."
"Why should it?  I confess your flattop has had the same effect on me."

She again rubbed her hand against his head, and the two starting kissing again. Each was constantly touching the hair of the other. They fell to the floor and pushed away the coffee table. Clothes came off in record time, and the two again made love hard and deep. After coming Mark stayed inside her and they rolled so he looked up at his glorious wife, her bouffant backlit by the ceiling light, her ample breasts dripping drops of sweat. She looked like a goddess. Her eyes opened wide as she could feel him growing again inside her. They were soon rhythmically moving again. With great willpower he held it in, and she came long and intensely. She downed a glass of ice water and begged for mercy, but Mark would have none of it. He gently relaxed his wife as he remained hard in her. He stroked her back, and the back of her neck and face for several minutes while emaining perfectly still deep inside her. Her breath rate returned to a reasonable level. She was sweating hard. She opened her eyes slightly and looked at him in stunned amazement. How could he hold it for so long? Mark moved inside her just a bit to show her he was still very much there and ready for more. Her eyes opened wide again and they rolled over so he was on top. He started thrusting again very slowly but very deep. She lay back spent but ecstatic, groaning loud in her pleasure. After several minutes of this she was ready to join and they again went at it enthusiastically. They came simultaneously long and hard. This was probably the most intense, most erotic lovemaking they had ever experienced. They were both soaking wet, exhausted but extremely overcome with the pleasure. Again he lay still but remained inside her. Later when he tried to pull out she held him in and made sure he did it very slowly. She wanted him still inside her, yet could take it no longer and needed a rest.Mark had totally worn her out. She could barely stay awake, and Mark was equally spent. After spending nearly 1/2 an hour on the floor trying to recover, Natalie realized she must have sleep. Mark was already out cold, holding her in his arms. She woke her husband and guided him to the bedroom. They pulled back the covers to sleep.
"I'm supposed to take your hair down tonight."
"Not tonight.  It will have to wait until the morning."
The mass of stiff hair was hardly noticeable to her now, and she was so tired she was asleep within minutes. Mark watched her fall asleep. Then he again touched her hair, followed by another pat of his own head, and he soon was asleep too.

Natalie woke first and was momentarily confused by the strange sensation of her hair. Then she reached up and touched it and all the memories of the previous day came alive to her again. Her hair was still very stiff and felt intact. She looked over at the still unfamiliar sight of her flattopped husband asleep next to her. She ran her hands over his cut still entranced by the combination of stiff hair sticking straight up mixed with the fuzz from almost no hair on the back and sides. She rose and looked at herself in the mirror. Again she was jolted at the large creation atop her head but was pleasantly surprised to find it still looked as full as the previous evening. Lorna was right, it would stay put until her husband would take it down. She wasn't sure she was ready to see it come down yet, as her husband was so enthralled with it. She decided she'd let him initiate it's demise. If he wanted it left up all day, she'd allow that. Natalie knew Mark wasn't the only one enthralled. She decided right there that this would not be the last time, if the circumstances merited it, that she would have her hair done. Not that she'd ever want something this high again, but there were so many possibilities with all her hair. She also realized that the fear her hair would be damaged by this treatment was now completely gone. She totally trusted her new stylist and friend, and even though no attempt had been made yet at "un-teasing", Natalie was sure everything would work out right. The day before had been such a remarkable day that nothing could go wrong now. She went outside, blinking at the bright sunlight, and got the paper off the porch. As she munched on a bagel she thumbed quickly through the paper. When she got to the local section she let out a huge scream. Mark was never known for being quick to wake up and out of bed, but his wives scream had him out to the dining table, sans clothing, faster than any Olympic Champion.
"What's wrong!" he said as he rubbed his face trying to get everything in focus. His wife just looked like a huge fuzzy brunette blob. As he rubbed his eyes his hands touched the sides of his head and the foreign feel of his bare scalp snapped him back to reality.  His wife came to him, in just a negligee, with her hair looking even higher than he remembered, holding a section of the paper.
"We made the cover of the local section!"
Mark looked at the large black and white photo (Somehow color wouldn't have been right for the event) which showed the couple dancing at the party under the banner headline, "Big Hair wins big".  There was something else unusual about the photo which Natalie hadn't recognized but Mark did.
"I don't believe this!" he said as he went to the coffee table. Natalie looked confused as she saw him return with Anita's scrapbook.  He opened it to the article from nearly 40 years earlier.
"Is this amazing or what?"
Natalie looked at the photo and was dumbstruck. Their picture was almost identical to the one taken of their Aunt. The lighting, the angle, the distance, even the dance move they were executing. Except for the size of her hair and both of their faces, the pictures matched exactly. Natalie just kept looking at the photos, but Mark was now waking up and looking at his wife. As she looked down at the photos he was again lost in the fantasy that was her bouffant. Again he was becoming aroused. She looked up just enough to see him quickly enlarging. She reached up and touched her hair.
"This sure does have a strong impact on you doesn't it?!"
She reached and took his cock in her hands. He shuddered in ecstasy, lifted her into his arms, and brought her back to the bedroom.  It would be two more hours before the sweaty, panting couple returned to the dining room. That was only because the phone was ringing. Natalie answered it. Aunt Anita was as excited as could be.
"I saw the picture. It was identical to ours. Congratulations on winning. You guys looked tremendous. I can't believe your wig!  And Mark in a flattop!  I'm crying I was so happy when I saw it.
"Anita, it wasn't a wig."
"My god, you cut your hair!  I don't believe it."
"I didn't cut my hair. It's all in there. I found... actually Mark found a fantastic lady who put it up. It was a remarkable experience."
"I didn't think that possible."
"Lot's of others, including some hot-shot hairdressers didn't think so either.  They were wrong."
"Was Mark wearing a wig?"
"No, he really did it. It was my idea for him to cut it. He's standing here right now sticking straight up."
She gave a knowing wink to her husband. His stamina this weekend was phenomenal. She wasn't complaining.
"Well, when you two return the outfits you'll have to promise to tell me everything!  I'll let you lovebirds enjoy your morning."
"Thank you Anita, and THANK YOU for everything. None of this would have been possible without you."
She hung up the phone, then reached out and again fondled her husbands erect penis.
"As for you, my horny husband, whatever has come over you?"
"I just can't seem to get enough of you looking like this. I want to start taking it down, but I don't want to say goodbye forever to you looking this way."
He again ran his hands over the shell curls.
"I'll make you a deal. If you can take this down and return my hair to normal without any problems, it doesn't have to be the last time you see me with my hair done."
He was now fully erect. The joy of taking her hair down, and the new possibilities of her challenge motivated him. He pulled out a chair, placed it in the middle of the room so he had plenty of room to maneuver and walked behind her pondering where to begin. She realized she had no mirror to watch the performance. She almost asked to move into the bathroom, but then recalled her husband's story of his adventure in the barber shop, and the thrill of not seeing what was going on. She decided she would now go through such an experience. He one last time ran his hands across the unspoiled beauty of Lorna's masterpiece, then decided upon which of the shell curls to start with and gently fondled it until he found a hairpin. He gently guided it out and set it on the dining room table.  Then he carefully unfolded the curl and saw it was connected to several others. Again he took his time removing the pins, savoring every moment. This was the joy of taking down her French Twist multiplied ten times over.  He had difficulty holding in his load of enthusiasm. Natalie knew her husband was aroused yet again. The feel of his gentle touch in her hair was doing it for her also. She wet her lips and closed her eyes as she could feel her heart rate increase. Slowly but steadily the back curls were dismantled and Mark worked his way to the front. As he started removing these pins his wife took his cock into her hands once more and starting massaging him. This was all too good, and he concentrated on doing the best job he could so it would happen again in the future. Lorna had given them both extensive directions on how to undo this work of art. More curls where unraveled, while his wife continued to massage him to near frenzy. Finally the last of them was undone even though Mark had to contort himself to reach around the 'do and remove the pins. He had no intention of taking himself out of his wives hands. Next stage to tackle was the massive beehive. He searched for some time before discovering the route in, but finally found several key pins that opened it up to the inner support structure of pins. Mark was breathing harder. As he started reaching in the swirl of hair, Natalie whispered in delight,
"You're right, this is more enjoyable when you can't watch it."
His wife sank her head lower. No longer was he just in his wives hands. He paused as his penis was swallowed almost entirely. Quickly his wife came up for air.
"Don't stop. Don't stop."
He was amazed. This whole ritual was every bit as erotic to her as to him. She bent over again and licked him as he returned once more to the inner framework. He lost count of the number of pins he removed, but guessed there had to be 100 in this magical teased mass. Slowly the beehive started to unwind, and her true length started to show. As the mass became more a curtain than hive, and his wife could once again feel hair falling against her shoulders and back, her excitement built. She started licking, kissing, sucking and stroking him more aggressively. Finally he could keep it to himself no longer. She swallowed it all enthusiastically, and came up licking her lips. She held him still in her hands as he stopped to regain control of himself. The intensity was so strong he nearly fell over from dizziness. Mark was beside himself.

"This is crazy, we have to do this again sometime."
Natalie conceded ever so willingly. "Oh yes. We definitely will!"

Mark had now leveled the beehive, and stiff, backcombed strands were beginning to fall everywhere. He pushed them all forward and worked on the back, leaving the big, sexy side part front wave for last. Natalie almost advised him to do the front first, since that would be the reverse order of it's construction, but opted to say nothing. This was her husbands job and he was doing fabulous thus far. She didn't know if this would result in difficulties later on, but right now she didn't care. Mark tilted his wives head forward and started the search for the hidden pins. As he slowly pulled them free the hair slightly loosened but would not fall. All that hairspray and the gentle twist was not yet ready to give way. Mark studied the problem, then carefully pried the twist free. He gently leveled his wives head and drew back the hair that had fallen forward. Now the mass once again started falling as far as her waist. She looked at one strand that fell in front of her shoulder into her line of sight. It was still heavily backcombed, bending in odd directions, and obviously stiff. It looked nothing like it did when last she brushed it the previous morning. But she was confident it soon would and just gazed upon it with fascination. Her husband walked once again in front of her to address the front of her hair. After another search he found the pins and slowly took it down. This part was a little more difficult to unravel as it had been teased more extensively than the rest. He took a few minutes to search for any pins he might have missed. She gazed down at him. He was erect again, although still drenched in sweat and breathing hard. Satisfied the last of the pins were gone, Mark arranged her hair so it all once again fell down her back. It was still very sticky in most places. To undo the backcombing was going to take time. It was time he'd gladly spend. Mark lifted his wife into his arms and carried her to the shower. Natalie knew the easy part was over and the rest of the undoing process would be long and slow. She also was hot again for her husband. The shower was turned on and the temperature set comfortably when Mark led his wife in. The curtain was drawn and Mark gently wet her still teased hair. The trick now was using plenty of  conditioner to make the hair slick so it could be easier to untangle. He was told if done right much of the backcombing would wash itself out.  He applied the conditioner just as instructed. He needed to leave it there for some time. His wife made the most of their time in the shower. First she washed and conditioned her husbands flattop. It was strange washing so little hair as the two usually took showers together. She used way too much shampoo and she laughed as she used the excess to clean his other head. Mark massaged his wife between her legs all the while, and she often paused to savor the experience. Unbelievable to both of them, they made love again in the shower. Again it was extremely intense and erotic. Nothing they had ever done together could match the intensity, let alone the frequency, of their desires over the past 24 hours. The couple dried each other off and put on some undergarments. They weren't sure how long they would stay on, even though both of them were wondering where the energy was coming from. What little hair Mark had left was now completely dry simply by rubbing it with a dry towel. As he looked into the mirror he was stunned to find it return automatically to the flattop. Had Albert already 'trained' it to go to this style? Was he right that his hair was perfect for the cut? He wasn't sold on the idea of keeping this look. However he wouldn't mind going through the experience again, especially since he now knew what to expect and wouldn't panic. Like riding a great roller-coaster for the second time. This time it looked different. It seemed noticeably shorter without the gel and spray stretching it out, and without being spiky had an entirely different texture to it. Mark patted it and it felt like very soft plush carpet. It also felt shorter. Now it seemed much more like a "military" flattop rather than a "long" flattop. If this was 'long', how short was 'short'? He couldn't imagine his hair much shorter. Strangely part of him wanted to find out. Natalie was patting her hair dry and then looked up and noticed his hair.
"Wow, it's already dry and in place. That's really something."
She reached up and touched it.
"It's so soft."
She kept running her hand over and over it. The bulge in his pants starting growing again. He couldn't believe that himself. He wondered if his wife noticed and believed. She did, and she didn't.

Mark led Natalie back to the chair and put their favorite movie, Titanic, in the VCR. It was a three hour movie. He hoped he could finish this task in that time. If it took longer though, so be it. The euphoria of the weekend was well worth the effort. He sat her down, got her some fruits to munch and a glass of water, and tried to find a place to start. He took the wide tooth comb in hand, then sat on the floor next to his wife. He was to start at the ends, in small sections, and cautiously work his way up to her scalp. At this point he was nervous. The next moments would decide if this weekend was a huge mistake, or an event they could do again in the future. He so badly wanted to do this again. If Natalie were worried she sure wasn't showing it. This was a good sign because his wife always had difficulty keeping that emotion in check. He worked meticulously expecting a huge battle. But the advice Lorna gave him, utilizing the conditioner and the shower to help, made his work surprisingly easy. Her hair was returning to normal. It did take time and patience, but it wasn't the chore he expected. Leonardo wasn't even teaching Kate to spit yet and the back section was already finished. The comb easily glided down the entire length of the hair. By the time the ship hit the iceberg, all that was left was the front section. This was the part that was teased heavier than the rest. If a problem was to be encountered, it would be here. The ends proved no problem, but one foot from the scalp Mark encountered some tangles he wasn't sure he could remove. He stopped working.
"Is there a problem?" came the concerned inquiry.
He lied. "No, my hands are just real tired.  Give me a couple of minutes to get some feeling back."
She shut off the VCR and came to him. "I'll give you more than a few minutes."

She was ready to take him again. This un-teasing part, which he was dreading, was arousing her. Unbelievable! It boosted his drive. He would overcome these tangles. There would be nothing negative about this hairstyle. But first he must satisfy his wife again. He was already up for the challenge. She wanted him badly, and wanted total control. Quickly she put him on his back and lowered herself onto him. He looked up at his gorgeous wife. Her long straight hair, although still wet, fell all about him like a web. This was a sight he never tired of seeing. Again they made love, and again they came simultaneously.

It took them both some time to recover. When they did Natalie returned to her chair and the movie, and Mark attacked the last tangles with a vengeance. His renewed concentration paid off.  The impossible tangle was not impossible. It was just persistent, and soon he was running the comb down the complete length. He was done, and the movie still had some time to go.
"Did I hurt you?"
"Not at all. You might have a future in this."
"Only if you are my client."
She inspected her hair for the first time. If it had been damaged she didn't see it or feel it. Even the ends seemed fine. She really didn't have reason for concern, for she had one wonderful lady putting her hair up, and the man she loved taking it down. The two sat arm-in-arm through the end of the movie. They were spent and blissfully happy. This was the best weekend ever.