My hair had been cut the same way for the previous ten years--3 inches long
on top and covering the top half of the ears on the sides.  About every 4
weeks, I would get it cut.

I started college early at the a small college near Chattanooga, Tennessee
in June 1978 in order to graduate in three years (I entered college with
nine AP college credits).  In early July, I decided it was time to get a
haircut.  I looked for a place to cut my hair near campus, but all the shops
were either too expensive or did not look very clean, so I put it off for a
few days.

I decided to ask a sophomore in my organic chemistry class where he got his
hair cut, as his hair looked similar to mine.  Unfortunately, he told me his
mother cut his.  However, Susan, the girl sitting next to me in class
overheard me and told me that she had been a hair stylist for three years
before deciding to go to college and get an MBA degree.  She told me she
would cut my hair for free if I helped her with this difficult chemistry
class.  She said that if I like her work, she would continue to cut my hair
as long as I helped her study, especially with science and math courses (I
was an accounting major).  I had noticed Susan from the first day of class,
as she stood out from among the crowd.  She was by far the most beautiful
girl I had ever laid eyes on.  She was a 5-11 angel with long blonde hair,
deep blue eyes, high cheek bones, and a body that didn't quit.  She looked
like Christie Brinkley with Raquel Welch's body.  It did not take me long to
agree to her haircut barter.

After class ended, Susan and I talked for almost two more hours.  We
discovered we had a lot in common.  We had both been multiple sport letter
winners in high school (she made all state in basketball as a senior in
Texas).  We both loved Barbecue, although we argued over whether Texas or
Oklahoma had the better "Q".  This was late afternoon on a Friday, and most
of the students left town for the weekend, as there was not much to do
unless you went to Chattanooga.  Susan and I decided to go to dinner and
continue our conversation.

As we were finishing dinner, Susan asked me when I would let her cut my
hair.  By now, I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could and told
her that she could do it as soon as she wanted.  What she said next alomst
caused me to pass out: "How about coming back to my apartment and spending
the weekend with me?  I can give you the best haircut you've ever had." 
Being a little shy and four years younger than her, I stuttered out a weak
yes, and Susan was able to "read between the lines." She realized that she
was more experienced than me and told me to relax and put myself in her
hands, and that I would never regret it.

Within the hour, we returned to my dormitory so I could pack for the weekend
and went to her townhouse apartment in the next town.  Susan placed me in a
swivel chair and told me to take off my shirt and pants, so she would not
have to get a sheet to cover me during the haircut.  She began to cut my
hair.  There was no mirror, and I was so pre-occupied with what was going to
happen later, that I never even told her how I usually got it cut.  She cut
my top down to about 1 1/2 inches and used clippers on the side and back
leaving only about 1/2 inch.  It was the shortest haircut I had been given
since I was about three years old. It looked like I was and ROTC student.

I told her I had never had my hair this close since I was a toddler.  She
told me that it was still too long for her liking, and I may have to get
another haircut the next day.  

Susan proceeded to take me into her bedroom and told me to be prepared for
ecstasy.  We made love for over an hour, and it was the best I had ever had.
Afterwards, Susan said that I could give her the same ecstasy if I let her
fulfill her fantasy.  I asked her what it was, and she told me to wait until
midnight.  We took a hot bubble bath for an hour until it was almost
midnight.  Susan got out of the tub and went to her bedroom.  When she came
out, she was wearing a tight, black leather dress, black leather boots, and
she had a long cigarette holder with a lit cigarette.  As she blew smoke
toward my face, she ordered me back to the swivel chair for another haircut.
I was quite nervous, as I had no idea what was about to happen.  I pondered
getting up and going back to campus, but I kept remembering her telling me
to put myself in her hands.  I slowly proceeded back to the swivel chair,
this time wearing nothing.  

Susan tied me to the chair with some leather straps and brought a dressing
mirror in front of it.  As she blew more smoke at my face, she whispered, "I
want you to watch as I turn you from an Oklahoma school boy into a Texas
soldier boy."  Susan had no scissor this time, only her Oster clippers.  She
exchanged one blade for another telling me, she was giving me a number one. 
I did not know what that meant.  She snapped the clippers to life and slowly
brought them to the front of my head.  Blowing one last blast of smoke
toward my nose, she told me that she didn't smoke, but she had kept the
cigarette for this occasion if it ever came up.  She gradually guided the
clipper onto the middle of my head and slowly guided it backward.  I
flinched as I saw almost all of my hair fall to the ground where she had
swiped.  It was nothing but brown stubble left.  She proceeded to slowly
swipe the clippers through each hair on my head, occasionally pausing to rub
her fingers where she had just shaved.  All the while, she was rubbing her
rubber-clad outfit against my private parts.  It took about 10 minutes for
her to finish.  My head looked like a boot camp enlistee.  My scalp was
visible throughout the entire head.  The little stubble on my head looked
like a velvet seat cushion.  It felt like sandpaper.

Susan took me back to her bedroom and spent five minutes massaging my burred
scalp, moaning as she rubbed.  She told me that giving a burr haircut to an
unsuspecting younger man was her fantasy, and I had fulfilled it better than
she ever dreamed of.  She told me that as long as I kept my hair burred, she
would wear me out in her bed.  We made love that weekend 23 times.  No
chemistry studying was ever done.

It is now more than 22 years later, and Susan and I have been married for
the last 19 years.  My hair has never been longer than 1/2 inch during that
time; I currently have the same burr cut Susan gave me that night.  She owns
a chain of hair salons in Tennessee, Alabama, and Georgia.  Over the
Christmas holidays, our 17-year-old daughter came from from a party and
asked her mother if she could borrow her clippers to burr her new
boyfriend's head just like she did daddy's.  I won't be getting any sleep
for the next few years.