A Snip In The Dark

In the gloom of her bedroom, lit only by the sliver of moonlight punching through her curtains, I carefully inched towards her bed where she lay snoring gently.I flicked on the tiny torch I carried cupped in my hand, and by its glow I could make out her chestnut locks as they cascaded over the pillow and tumbled to the floor. Kneeling close to the bed, I switched off the torch just in case it wakened her, and carefully reached into the thick silky softness of her hair, working my fingers through it, carefully easing a long tress free. I stroked it gently, lifting it to my face to feel its softness against my skin. The sweet smell of apple shampoo filled my nostrils. Carefully I slid my fingers back towards her scalp, the lock felt thick and smooth between my fingers. She slumbered on, deep in sleep, oblivious to the unexpected visitor who now played with her hair. I felt the thick mass of her beautiful hair against my knuckles as I slid my fingers right against her head.I felt gently to either side to make sure the lock was midway between her ears at the back of her head. Carefully I lifted the lock I had separated and coiled it in the palm of my hand. I listened to her deep, heavy breathing, as I reached into my pocket. In the darkness I could see little but the vague outline of her head and the occasional glint of steel as the scissor blades caught what little light there was. My pulse raced as I lifted the blades to her hair, opened the scissors and slid the blades around the thick lock . My hand trembled with excitement and my groin stiffened as I positioned the open blades against my fingers. I held my breath ..... and slowly .....squeezed  the blades shut. Schnnnnikk, the razor sharp scissors bit through the resisting mass of her hair as I severed the long thick lock. The rasping noise of hair being cut seemed so loud in the dark, but her breathing never faltered. I fought the temptation to plunge my scissors deep into her thick mane and hack wildly through it and instead, slipped the scissors back into my pocket and carefully lifted the shorn lock free.  Slowly I backed away and slipped silently from her room. I quickly made my way back to my own room and only then did I  look at the trophy I had stolen. 
I still held the cut ends between my fingers, and slowly let the coiled lock tumble free  Smooth and soft, the lock was the thickness of a pencil, and hung almost 3 foot long from my hand. I played with it then, reliving the experience of secretly cutting it from her head.

  
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26-30
Jan 13, 2013