Amatsuka Erena was a 18 year old high school who was a model and a kimono cosplayer who wore beautiful flashy or frilly kimonos for her shoot and was the top 10 model girls in the magazine . The manager Ishigawa Takeru had a meeting with the photography team what do with Erena in her next shoot to raise her promotion. As many producers discussed. The CEO took two proposals which was strongly confirmed by the board which almost shocked the Manager.
When the team asked Ishigawa for suggestions, he was out of words and sweat drooled over him. He stood before all of them and gave a suggestion which everyone thought it would be a good idea. As he left after a discussion, he sighed as he checked his bag and took out a letter which showed him that he was accepted to join the Tokyo university .
He was happy but sad that he would have to leave her childhood crush who he worked so hard in making her the top models in Shibuya.
A little later, Amatsuka Erena came back from her shoot and checked as no one was at home, she was sweating due to her training and went to have a bath.
As Erena finished her bath. She glanced at her phone, then set it down on the dresser with its calendar for the next day staring up at her. Her reflection in the large mirror before her also stared back, her petite form clothed in only a short and had worn a robe and a blanket of her long, lush, brown hair. Her slightly sunkissed locks, silky with just enough swirl to be considered wavy, were thick enough to almost overwhelm her, falling well down her back and in front of her shoulders, the softy curling ends slipping past the bottom of her rib cage as she brushed the natural curtain they formed aside from her leaf-green eyes.
She loved her hair… at least most of the time. In the midst of the summer, not so much. Especially in the midst of a summer when the air conditioner had broken down without any hope of being fixed any time soon.
In that instance, her hair was heavy and oppressive; an obstacle and hinderance to be dealt with in order to find comfort.
She ran her hands back through it, then twisted them around and gathered her generous mane upward, forming a chaotic twist atop her head with tendrils fighting their way free to tease her neck and ears. Pinning them in place with one hand, she used a massive hair clip to make it a permanent fix, sighing with relief when the willful tresses stayed where she wanted them to.
She turned away from the mirror just in time to see her manager, Takeru standing in the bathroom doorway, a sudsy frown forming around his toothbrush. "Aww. I wath hope-inn yewd lea it ow-in."
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow as she leaned back against the dresser. "What... Wait... What are you doing here?"
"What!... I live here too.. Baka!!. I paid the rent and now we're even"
"Not that, you told me you're busy and would be late"
"And now I'm here"
Takeru dutifully returned to the sink to spit and rinse out his toothpaste, allowing a nice moment of posterior appreciation on Erena's part before he turned out the bathroom light and made his way over to her. "I said, I was hoping you'd leave it down tonight." He leaned in close, pressing his lips to hers as he leaned against the dresser, too, with one hand on each side of her slight frame. It made her feel absolutely tiny compared to his tall form, especially when he had to lean in like he did to kiss her. She loved how that stirred things inside her, like a mouse being played with by a naughthy sly cat.
"And I was hoping we'd have had the air conditioning fixed by now, so I guess neither of us can get what we want."
He smiled ruefully before patting her and gave a kiss again, nudging closer to press her against the furniture a little harder. She was close to having to lift her ass up onto the dresser to stay comfortable, but knew once her feet were off the ground she'd lose what little playful leverage she had. She'd be completely at her manager who they started dating just five months ago. She wanted to leave her status of idol to join him to Tokyo university but due to her failed entrance exam and pressure if tests, The company denied the offer so she plan to be a singer to make her boyfriend proud.
She pressed her palms to his chest, somehow wanting to both be closer to him because of his heat and further away for the same reason, feeling her pulse picking up as his tongue pushed its way into her mouth. Prickles of sweat started forming on the back of her neck, reminding her what a good idea it was to put her hair up before kissing him.
"Next week will be my last day in been your manager. Before you get assigned by a new manager who I trained. She may be in her thirties but I knew she train those "Apple girls" and now they go for world tours. As he checks the schedule. Before she knew it, her phone was in his hand and he made a thoughtful sound which opened his eyes
"Haircut tomorrow? You know the board told to get your hair done"
She nodded, slipping her phone from his hand and dropping it down again. She traced his hips with her free hand. Much to her delight, he took the cue and returned his lips to hers, his fingertips forgetting about her phone as they began playing with the tie that held her robe closed.
His lips parted from hers again, and as they travelled toward her ear he asked, " I was scared to tell you but are really ready for it or are you getting it all chopped off?"
She sighed softly as she focused on the fact that his nimble fingers had undone her robe and brushed it open. His weight pressed against her, forcing her back so her legs instinctively spread, and those amazing, incredibly deft fingertips began to tease and caress the softness between her thighs. When she finally comprehended his question, she couldn't help but giggle.
"I don't think you have anything to worry about," she purred.
"Even with how hot it is?" He punctuated his question with a nip of her neck, eliciting a squeal of delight. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself close as the fingers of her right hand buried themselves in the back of his soft, shiny hair.
She giggled again, pressing her hips toward his probing fingers. "It's not a matter of heat. I think it's more a matter of guts, and my complete lack of them."
His lips moved from her neck, grazing along her jawline before he looked at her with a furrowed brow.
"What do you mean?"
She suddenly felt very small in front of Takeru and wondered how silly she might sound. She shrugged and smiled, trying to play off his suddenly somewhat serious question. "I just mean that even if I was planning on getting an actual cut, I'd probably chicken out. I always do."
His gaze flicked up toward her hair, and his brow stayed furrowed, though it was joined by a bit of a crooked smile. "You think about it a lot?"
It was her turn to furrow her brow. She'd never have guessed he'd ever want her to cut her hair, not with the way he reacted to how it bounced and flowed around them when they made love. Hell, just when they were watching movies on the couch and his fingers played through it, or when he watched her brush it out.
"I don't think I should do it… do you think I should?"
He considered the question, almost chuckling as he traced his fingers along her collarbone until they were brushing her robe back off her left shoulder. He smiled, and she could almost hear the caution with which he approached the question gumming up his thought process. "I think you would look just as amazing with short hair as you do with long hair."
Erena smiled brightly. "Wow. Talk about splitting the uprights with that answer."
"I thought you'd like it." He chuckled, and seized her lips with his own again, pressing his full weight against her.
"It's a moot point," she insisted as he returned to nipping and nibbling her naked, exposed neck. "I'd just ask for a trim anyway, even if I wanted more. Too many people would freak if I did anything crazy."
She wished she was kidding, but she definitely wasn't. She couldn't imagine how her fans would react if she ever decided to chop her hair; even the cuts that were barely more than healthy trims received gasps of dismay and admonishments asking how she could think of cutting her shampoo commercial tresses.
Takeru kissed her again, deeply and forcefully as he pulled her robe the rest of the way down. "What if it wasn't up to them? Or you?" he asked. His grin had turned devilish, and she found herself trembling even more within his clutches.
"What… what do you mean?"
He turned her around, letting her look at her reflection as his fingers stroked her vulnerable throat. He nipped her earlobe with his teeth, then teased her neck with more kisses as she pressed her tight little ass back against him. "Let me decide whether you get those gorgeous locks trimmed or chopped."
She bit her lip, letting the idea of surrendering control to him like that, the same way she was surrendering control as he took her hands and placed them against the dresser, pressing his own down on top as if magically bonding her to the furniture. "A lovely thought," she admitted, mostly because she knew there'd be no follow through, "but I'd still probably chicken out when the time comes."
One of his feet pushed her left foot aside, and then her right. His breath was warm against her neck between kisses as he leaned down against her, one hand resting on her shoulder. "I'll print out a picture for you to give the stylist and put it in an envelope tomorrow morning. Then, you give it to her without looking at it. So you can truly blame me if anyone complains about it being too boring or too exciting. Sound like fun?"
He smiled at her in their reflection, and she eventually locked eyes with herself, eyebrows rising in worry. She had set up a single defense for her beautiful mane.
But… but maybe he'd pick out a long, beautiful style for her, maybe one with layers and sweeping bangs to provide a drastic change from her one-length waves without shocking her too much… She looked at his reflection again, an involuntary moan escaping her worried frown as he pushed his cock into her from behind. She whimpered as he filled her, pushing his hips against her before drawing back so deliciously slowly…
She nodded, trying to murmur and affirmative response but not able to do so as he slammed himself into her. "That's my girl," he rumbled. One hand gripped her shoulder, tugging her back against his eager thrusts. The other hand stole the hair clip from her treasured mane, and with a simple flick sent her long, glossy waves cascading down in front of her left shoulder, their soft, shiny tips pooling on the surface of the dresser as they desperately tried to form perfect, beautiful curls, perhaps in one last attempt to whisk away any thoughts of their execution.
Erena wanted to object, wanted to complain and rib her boyfriend for setting her hair free on such a hot muggy night. She wanted to playfully whine about how the heavy bulk would stick to her neck and back, how it'd become slick with sweat as he played with her, but…. None of that was true.
Her boyfriend and manager was a master tactician, and her hair wasn't in danger of sticking to her back, gathered on the dressertop like it was. No, all it was doing was dancing back and forth, swaying with every thrust and movement her Beloved made behind her, taking that energy and multiplying it as its waves played in the lamplight, showing off its shining glory and teasing her by reminding her of what would be at stake when she handed the chosen photo to her stylist tomorrow.
Slowly it began to fall into her eyes, began to slink forward over her face, hiding how her mouth hung open in desire, pulling close to her with every deep breath and floating away on every released sigh of pleasure. She felt herself tightening around Ishigami Takeru as he dominated her petite form, claiming her as his own. She'd given him her beautiful, gorgeous mane… those dancing waves, the swaying tresses that glimmered so beautifully. The idea that she had no control over how she'd look at this point tomorrow – she bit her lip, hard, reminding herself that the broken A/C meant the windows were wide open, and the neighbors weren't far away.
"No, no, My Love," Takeru told her through gritted teeth. "Let them hear you… let me know how much you're looking forward to tomorrow."
To be stubborn, Erena forced herself to stay quiet, forced herself to hold on a bit longer… but when that became impossible, Jon won out, as he always seemed to, and she let the neighborhood know just how damn good that f
Giddy anxiousness made the morning routine fly by for Elise, and in what felt like no time at all she was ready for work and heading out the door in her skirt and jacket. A slightly unbuttoned blouse and an impeccably twisted updo were her only consolations to the heat, and she had almost escaped her already-warm house when Takeru came down the stairs in his khakis and button-down shirt, holding a small envelope out toward her.
"You didn't think I'd forget, did you?" he asked.
She licked and bit her bottom lip, almost hesitant to reach out and take the envelope that would seal her magnificent manager's fate. When her eyes moved their focus from the small bit of paper her husband held out to his own eyes, her resolve melted. She took the envelope, running her fingers along its edge.
"No peeking," he chided her.
She smirked, and raised an eyebrow as she asked, "What if I chicken out?"
"Then we do as those couple from friend and go on with everyone "we were on a break"," he quickly replies with a pout
He waited just a beat before smiling, and then bent low for a sweet, soft kiss. "As long as you come home, I'll be happy. But I'll be happier if you're happy, too, so remember this is just for fun. You can drop that in the trash as soon as you get in the office if you want."
She smiled, feeling a low warmth building in her gut. Definitely not a sensation she needed during a heat wave, but not at all an unwelcome one. "You know I can't do that," she told him quietly, loving her need to please him almost as much as his refusal to ever take advantage of it.
He kissed her again, lifting a hand to stroke the naked nape of her neck.
"Let your hair down at some point today. Enjoy it while you can, since you may or may not have it for long."
His wink made her knees weak, and then, as she tucked the envelope into the outer pocket of her shoulderbag, she watched him disappear upstairs again to finish getting ready for his manager work as he soon ran to the office.
The mystery photo taunted Elise all day, silently peeking out of the pocket of her bag from where it hung on the back of her door in her bag. Her first glances toward it happened within minutes of settling down at her desk for the day. Within a half hour, her tidy French twist was completely undone, transformed into a waterfall of dark, glossy waves that tumbled freely over her right shoulder and reached toward her lap. She found herself stroking it absently for a good portion of the morning, eyeing its reflection in her monitor as she pretended to focus on whatever contracts were the subject of the day's meetings.
As the hours passed, she began to wonder whether she was subconsciously telegraphing her and Takeru's little game. While she was used to her black locks being admired when loose, the lingering looks seemed to be coming in even greater numbers than usual. And she wasn't naive about her beauty; admiring glances from coworkers often had to be carefully navigated, but there seemed to be a greater abundance of appreciation, for instance, as she strode through the company cafeteria to eat with her friends and colleagues, her near-curls bouncing and swaying in time with the motion of her hips.
She actually had to force herself to mute the pop-pop of her stride, not wanting to make a spectacle of herself as she found her desires and needs unexpectedly riding the waves of admiration to unfortunate heights given the fact that Takeru wasn't around to save her then.
Compliments met her graceful waves around every corner, it seemed…
"Can't let a heatwave get in the way of a good hair day, can we?"
"Have you gotten any calls to be in a shampoo commercial yet?'
"They really should just bottle your color."
"I'd never have cut my hair if it had been as gorgeous as yours…"
"There are three constants in life: death, taxes, and that Erena is always going to have the same gorgeous, long hair."
By the end of the day, and an hour or so before her appointment, Erena found herself holding the envelope over the circular trash bin next to her desk. Her long, silky tresses fell forward as she looked down at it, almost hiding the folded paper as if her glorious mane were trying to give her the last push to just drop the photo her manay had printed out and be done with it.
But then, even though it was madness, it felt like she would have spent the day collecting Money for her wedding, wedding gifts for a ceremony she knew would never happen. Like she would have been lying to everyone who, on some level, might have felt like they were complimenting her hair one last time.
Even the colleague who had said she would always have the same gorgeous long hair seemed to be daring her to make a change, and Erens hadn't even said anything about her impending appointment.
Flicking her abundant waves back behind her shoulders, Elise took a calming breath. She imagined herself with sideswept bangs, and lush layers that still fell well past her shoulders in a smooth, shiny blowout that would make models jealous, even if they weren't quite as long as they were now. She looked at the envelope again and giggled, feeling foolish. It's not like Takeru would have picked a photo of the Saitama from one punch man. She should trust him.
She did trust him.
Whatever style he picked, she knew he would love her with it, even if no one else did. And that was enough for her.
That said, she couldn't deny that there was a weird, surprising little thrill in the possibility of everything going wrong…
That, however, was probably a topic best addressed by a therapist rather than a hair stylist.
Gathering her courage, Elise slipped Takeru's envelope back into her bag and turned out to the location the photography team has called for her next shoot in which she had to get a makeover to do that and that was to get her hair done.
As she drove toward the location which was a studio and she realised that her next cosplay shoot was in the studio just two hours from Shibuya city and Tokyo. Then moment of truth, Erena's concerns shifted from what style Takeru had picked to how she was going to explain the situation. Sure, shr had been styling her hair for years, but still… it couldn't be argued that this was going to be an unusual situation. How many women would be willing to take a chance like this?
In the end, she decided that the photography team's reaction would simply be another gateway to be navigated by Erena's fate; if they refused to cut Erens's hair the way her manager wanted, then that would be that and the little game would end. Maybe that would be the best of both worlds, actually Erena would get the thrill of submission while being able to keep her beautiful hair.
Fate itself seemed to be waiting patiently just inside the hotel room, as one of the photography team stood checking the light, her fingers playing through the magnificent, abundant black tresses that fell all the way down her back. The Assistant's own hair, in stark contrast, was a mop of wild, willful red curls that were just long enough to fall into her eyes and threaten to completely hide her ears. It was as if two of Erena's possible futures were just hanging out, waiting for her.
As the assistant saw Erena, she welcomed her and directed her to the director who welcomed her and explained what was the plan and told that the next shoot would be a romantic wedding scene and showed her a bright red and white kimono and explained that her next shoot was to wear that kimono and also gave her freedom to choose what hairstyle she wanted and said that they were given to film her hairdo in camera which made her nervous. As she signed the contract for her shoot, without further adieu, he signalled one of the assistant to take her to the makeup room to get her haircut.
As she was taken, she was greeted by two women who too wore a black and olive Samue worn with a kimono skirt as they bowed as greeting
"To the Winds of flower, to the stream of the river, We are from Katsumi Beauty. We are at your service, My name is Katsumi Kejoro, pleasure to meet you "
"Ummm... Hello, nice to meet you" she chuckled nervously.
She admired the look of the women in her formal traditional attire and was told that she was well known in Shibuya town and were called for a special request.
" Are you feeling nervous Ms Amatsuka Erena. Should I give a minute before we start the process"
"Thanks! The boyfriend likes change, so I figured I might as well give it a shot."
The assistant rolled her eyes and offered to take Erens's bag, which Erent surrendered after seizing Takeru's envelope from its pocket. Erena slid into the chair, her heart beginning to pound as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. In a moment, the stylist was behind her, fluffing her dark waves and pushing the forward to fall before each of her shoulders.
"So Ms, the schedule says you're here for a trim, but… you look kind of nervous?" Katsumi Kejoro smiled.
Elise laughed, face-palming for a moment. "I just ain't ready for a change."
"You don't need to worry Miss, you are in good hands" Katsumi replied as she checked the volume of her hair. Her fingers started playing through the length of Erena's hair, her eyes betraying the number of ideas that were probably already bouncing around behind them. "Have you got anything in your mind ?"
Erena took a deep breath and flipped the envelope around in her fingers. She held it up toward Katsumi, not sure whether she wanted the stylist to actually take it.
"My manager had an idea."
"Okay." Katsumi took the envelope, her brow furrowing as she started opening it.
"The thing is," Erena added hurriedly, "I don't know what it is."
One of Erens's eyebrows rose again, almost disappearing under her bangs. She walked around the chair to stand in front of Erena as she finished opening the envelope. "You don't know?"
Erena shook her head, letting her soft tresses brush against her cheeks. "The idea is that I'd give it to you without knowing what it was so I'd be surprised."
Immediately playing into the situation, The director came and gave the envelope to him. He pulled the photo from the envelope and covered its back with hid hand, providing zero opportunity for Erena to get a clue as to what the photo was of. Erena's heart pounded as everyone's eyes flicked back and forth between photo and client. Unlike Erena's, the stylist's face was immaculate and unreadable. After a few seconds, her lips scrunched to the left, and she made a thoughtful sound. The director approved and told to proceed as he signalled the cameramen to place the camera's so that they can film her cut .
Erena swallowed the lump in her throat, and lifted her own eyebrows in anticipation. She saw Katsumi coming as she checks her hair again
"It's a good idea," Katsumi Kejoro said. "At least I think it is. The director too was amazed as he checked. "Yep, that would definitely work."
And with that, he was gone again and Erena found herself under a stern gaze.
"Are you ready Miss" Katsumi said
Erens nodded, unwilling to speak given the tumultuous mixture of disappointment and relief wrestling within her chest. She sat silently as the stylist moved behind her, pulling her long hair back behind her shoulders so she could spread a white cape out across her lap.
"That said, I think we could have some fun with this." She gathered Erena's thick wealth of hair up, motioned for Erena to hold it in place, and then fastened the cape tightly around her neck.
"So, what I can do is cut your hair in a couple different styles, gradually getting shorter, and if you find yourself as short as you're willing to go, you can stop me there. Sound good?"
The exact decision she'd kind of been hoping to avoid through all of this, but it still somehow wound up in her lap anyway.
Erena took a long look at her reflection, at the shiny hair falling down over her shoulders and chest, framing her face in sweet, sexy waves.
She nodded, sending chills up and down her spine in the same way it sent rippled through her silky locks.
Katsumi smiled. "Perfect. Let's get started, then."
Within a few minutes, Camera and photographers around them. Erena's hair had been meticulously combed and most of it was piled atop her head, carefully sectioned and clipped into place by a very efficient and focused Erena. Erena taried to take calming breaths, her sweaty palms squirming against the armrests of the chair beneath the cape as Miss Kejoro worked. She knew every twisted and clipped section brought her closer and closer to being cut off from the lovely compliments she'd received all day, and her pounding heart made it hard to swallow when Katsumi placed her fingertips on either side of Erenas head from behind and gently positioned it perfectly.
"Here we go," the stylist whispered – there was no confirmation requested, no query as to whether Erena was ready. Just the one whispered warning that barely preceded the first long "shnikt" of the hairdresser's shears. There was a short pause afterward, just long enough for a Katsumi Kejoro to hold up a long, silky lock of Erena,'s hair that was no longer attached to her head. The stylist dropped it in front of Erena's shoulder, letting the severed hair slide slowly toward her lap.
Erena held her breath as she tried to look at the shorn tress. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed like it was almost a foot in length — and this was just Erena s most conservative cut! She said there'd be a couple of styles, which meant Takeru had picked one that was even shorter… As the shears continued their insistent journey across the width of Erenas back, she mentally sorted through the various styles she had worn her hair in over the course of her relationship with her boyfriend. What was the shortest she'd ever had it that he'd seen?
It was shorn away – would she even need a comb
She was pretty sure she'd have passed out if the clippers came close to the top of her head.
Beautiful locks of hair continued to rain down as Katsumi worked, her hands moving closer and closer to Erena's freshly cut bangs. Elise tried to ignore the growing pile in her lap, focusing instead on how both Katsumi and the directior disgreed that the chosen style would look great on her. Neither had hesitated, she reminded herself.
And neither had given her even a clue how drastic the change was going to be. She was sure whether she should credit them or curse them. Miss Kejoro then took out a spray h bottle and a comb to wet her hair.
She pinned the top section of her hair and then took a big pair of clippers and he started shaving the left side. Erena never had clippers used on her before and it felt soothing to her. Katsumi then shaved the right side.
She then put the large clippers down and worked on the top. She used the scissors to cut off the large bunch of hair that he held above Erena's head to about 2 inches long. Katsumi then used the comb razor to take off the long, uneven chunks to create the Pixie Cut.
He then combed the hair down towards the front to make the short bangs. The bangs would make Erena's face more attractive. Erena was then used the black gel and a small, fine-toothed comb to make the hair a bit stiff. It
She had the cape taken off. She was then reclined into the wash basin, where she was shampooed and rinsed. She was then blow-dried, combed and brushed; so, the hair would be neat. Katsumi then used a bit of hair wax to give her some style and spikiness up top.
Erena was turned around and saw herself looking very different. As everyone clapped she look into herself and saw that she received a long shaved pixie. She was then taken to the shoot while she was styled and taken photos.
The feelings all of these thoughts gave her were both unreal and unexpected. By the time she pulled into her driveway and parked behind Takeru's car, she was ready to pounce him and pin him to the floor for hours. Granted, he was usually the one who took charge, but… things within her had been set in motion, and it was all his fault.He owed her for going through with this.
He was in the kitchen when she slammed the door open, startling and almost dropping the pan of chicken breasts he was about to put in the oven. His eyes widened when he saw her, a wide smile gracing his handsome face. "Oh my god. I didn't really expect…"
He never got to finish. Erena tossed her shoulderbag onto the couch and dropped her jacket to the floor. Her blouse joined the jacket by the time she stormed to her husband. She shoved the yet-to-be-cooked dinner aside and grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt, yanking his lips down to hers in a hungry desperate kiss. He gave into her whims willingly, cupping her ass with one hand and lifting her up as her leg rose against his waist. His other hand found its way to her nape, caressing and exploring and holding as she squealed and moaned against his lips.
"Upstairs, now," she ordered. "Dinner can wait."