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[This story was just published in the August issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy ‘ENM’ Magazine, p. 34. Enjoy!]

Slowly our world was opening. Like a tightly bound spring bud on the perennial, gradually, with the days growing longer and the temperatures climbing, the petals begin to unfurl, letting in water and air, letting out color and aromatic fragrance, similarly, with each passing day, more people were walking on the streets, more shops invited in limited customers, more restaurants set up tables outside. The patrons cautiously caroused and conversed in the allure of springtime sunshine that thawed the COVID chill of winter.

“Daddy,” said Lo that afternoon as she called me from home to my office where I was working, alone.

I knew from her tone, she wanted something.


“Daddy, it’s Friday.”

“I am aware.”

“And it’s beautiful outside.”

“I can see,” I said, gazing out my office window onto the usually bustling, now sleepy street below.

“We haven’t had a date in forever.”

I wanted to remind Lo that, in the time of COVID-19, Friday evening is no different from Monday or Wednesday or any other day. But I refrained and listened.

“Can we go out?” she asked.

“For a walk?”

“No, I mean like out out.”

“To a restaurant?” I asked incredulously.


“Lo, you know that you’ll only have a panic attack tonight if we do that.”

“I want to get dressed up, put on makeup, wear some fucking heels, and go out!”

She protested to me with the pent-up anger she had for the pandemic.

“Dressed up? Out? Where?”

“Anywhere! I haven’t worn anything but yoga pants for three months!”

“Spandex is your best color.”

“How can you possibly love me looking like this?”

“What? I love you in yoga pants. I love you out of yoga pants. I love getting you out of yoga pants. Then I love getting in you. But I digress. Where were we?”

“You’re taking me out tonight and we’re going to go to a restaurant to eat and pretend like none of this is happening!”

“If that’s what you want. You know I can’t deny you.”

“Good! I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”

A half hour later I got a phone call from Lo. “Daddy, I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“You said a half hour a half hour ago.”

“Yeah, well, I forgot how to do this.”

“How to do what?”

“Put on makeup. I’m a mess. I have to start over.”

About an hour later I got a text from Lo, “I’m out front.”

I packed up my stuff and walked out onto the street. I saw Lo parked in front of my building, the windows down, looking toward the sidewalk, but not looking at me. She wore her tight blue dress. She had intense red lip gloss on and her hair was done like I hadn’t seen in three months or more.

I hopped in the car. “Hello.”

She was running her tongue over her lips.

“I see you’re eager for our date,” I said.

“Sit back,” she said, hardly acknowledging my presence.

I saw her looking through the plate glass window of the store to my right.

“I have an admirer.”

In the window was a young salesclerk. If I had to guess, I’d say he was about twenty-two. He was gazing right past me into Lo’s seductive eyes.

“It’s been a while,” I said to Lo. “Enjoying the attention?”

Lo didn’t answer. She was basking in the youth’s admiration of her beauty.

“I see that COVID hasn’t killed your vanity.”

“Vanity?” Lo asked, starting the car, “If you were about two minutes later, I would have had an orgasm right here.”

“Well don’t let me stop you.”

She pulled away from the curb, blowing a kiss to her handsome stranger who was reverse window shopping Lo’s goods.

“OK Love, where to?” I asked.

“Somewhere with outside seating.”

“That’s all that’s open right now.”

“And good food.”

“Of course. And expensive.”

“Why must it be expensive?”

“Because you judge a restaurant by how much weight my wallet loses.”

“You’re not wrong. And it also has to be pretty.”

“Guaranteed you’ll improve the atmosphere.”

I was glad she was driving. It’s difficult enough to find a dining establishment in this town that meets with Lo’s mood during normal times. I did not want to be the one responsible for pleasing her palate during COVID.

We zig-zagged through our city as she made suggestions and I looked them up to see if there was a chance that we’d get a table.

“Can’t you hurry, the sun will set soon!”

“Lo, this plan suffers from one fatal error.”

“What’s that?”

“It wasn’t planned!”

Exhausted, frustrated, and hungry, we abandoned dining out in favor of picking up two to-go meals, a bottle of champagne, plastic utensils and eating on a park bench overlooking the skyline of our city as the hues of dusk drenched us in an orange glow.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” I said.

No response.

“It’s intimate and romantic.”

“I want fancy, elegant, and full of possibilities.”

“Lo, we’re just not at that stage yet. I don’t even think the governor has ‘erotic dining’ on the list of phased reopening.”

“Well he should!”

We drove home and she sulked in the passenger seat.

“What will cheer you up?” I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“There has to be something to get you out of these doldrums.”

She looked off into the distance and then back at me. She clearly was forming a thought. She reached over and ran her hands through my hair.

“What?” I asked, nervous.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said.

“When we get home, let me cut your hair.”


“You need a haircut and you’re not ready to go to the barber.”

“Will it make you happy?”

“Very. I’ve always thought I could do it better.”

“You think that about everything.”

“Well, it’s true about most things.”

We got home and she said, “Get naked.”

“I thought you were giving me a haircut.”

“I am. Get naked.”

“I don’t get naked for my barber.”

“You’re going to get naked for me.”

I stripped out of my clothes and sat on the chair she set up in the bathroom. She pulled out the electric trimmer and some scissors, hair clips and my comb.

“Lo,” I said furtively, “you know that professional hairdressers spend one year only cutting the hair on manikins.”

“I watched a YouTube video. I’m good.”

“Oh, I see. Those hairstylists are wasting their tuition dollars.”

“Don’t you worry, I know what I’m doing.”

She got out of her blue dress and was wearing just her thong and a tank top revealing a lot of side-boob.

“Ok, I’m feeling better about this already.”

“I see,” she said, admiring my erection. “Does that happen to you at the barber?”

“My barber is named Luige, what do you think?”


She began with the back, running the trimmer up my scalp. Then the sides.

“You know, it’s my hair, not mowing lawn, right?”
“I told you, I watched a video.”

Then she came around the front and was looking at my head like a work of art, checking the symmetry. She got out the scissors, leaned in, combed my hair up, and began snipping, placing her breasts in my face. I pulled her shirt up to let her nipples dance before my admiring eyes. I leaned forward and took one in my mouth.

“Hey! You know I’m cutting your hair here?”

“Sorry, I got carried away.”

“Leave my tits alone until I’m done.”

“Can you cut my hair like this?” I asked, pulling the sides of her shirt into the cleavage of her breasts, revealing her tits.

“Do you promise just to look and not touch?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Fine. Now stay still.”

“It’s like a dream come true,” I said.

“You’ve always wanted Luige to wear his t-shirt like this?”

“No! Never mind.”

She continued cutting away and then trimmed up my beard and finally said, “Voilà!”

I stood up and looked in the mirror. It didn’t look half bad.

I hopped in the shower to get all the clippings off of me and, within moments, she slipped in next to me.

“Luige never did this either,” I said.

“I should hope not.”

When all the hair had washed from our bodies, she got down on her knees and, looking up at me, said, “Did you like how I cut your hair, Daddy?”

“Yes,” I said.

“What would you think if I opened up a shop and cut everyone’s hair like that?”

“In your panties and a tank top? Or giving everyone the same hair style as you gave me?”

She laughed. “So you admit, I’ve got style?”

“The finest style, class, tits, and ass. In fact, that could be the motto of your salon.”

She opened up her mouth and put out her tongue a little. “Don’t I get a tip, Daddy?”

I rested the tip of my cock in her mouth. She took the whole rod.

“Greedy, aren’t you?”

“It’s today’s special: a haircut and a happy ending.”

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Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail:

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