The invitation

"Well, you can hardly wear stockings with hairy legs, can you?"

“Sally this is getting daft. I don’t object to us going to the party and for me dressing up in drag, but for God’s sake – I’m not going to pass as a girl and so it’s silly to try and make me look like one.”

“Sweetheart, I want to do this. Will you let me? Please?”

Jack’s heart sank. He was never able to refuse Sally anything, particularly when she looked at him with those pale blue eyes that just seemed to make his heart melt. "Oh, OK. But look. Just this one time OK? I don't want the rest of the guys thinking I'm a weirdo or anything."

"But I thought all guys loved it if their girlfriends shaved their own pubic hair..."

"Yeah I guess but that's different."

"How is it different?"

"I dunno - it just is."

"Hmm. Strong argument sweetie! Now, come along and I'll get you a nice hot bath." Jack sighed and resigned himself to loosing this particular argument. At least the compensations for arguments lost were usually pretty good.

Sally led him to the bathroom at the back of the house. She put the plug in the plughole, started the hot tap running and added some scented bath oil to the running water. From the cupboard under the sink she retrieved the hair clippers that Jack had used a few times the previous year before Sally had persuaded him not to, saying that she preferred men with slightly longer hair. In fact, his hair hadn't been cut for six months now.

"OK, now stand very still," Sally said as she knelt down in front of her boyfriend. "I don't want to cut you."

"Me neither!" croaked Jack.

Sally took the comb attachment off the end of the clipper and switched it on. It responded with a load buzz which filled the room.

"I have trim it short first and then shave it, so don't move."

"How is it that you know so much about it all of a sudden?" asked Jack.