"Tilt your head back" he asks.
I do as he asks, purring with satisfaction as he starts massaging my hair, pouring almost half a jar of the shampoo over me to make sure there's not a trace left that man had his hands on me.
I laughed when he explained it to me, which only earned me a dirty look, as if I wasn't taking seriously something that is sacred to him.
"I was thinking of cutting my hair."
"Don't even think about it."
"Why not? It's my hair."
"It's mine now too," he whispers, concentrating on his task as he goes back to shampooing the cleaned strands.
"Matt, stop," I tell him as he pours shampoo back into his hand.
"This is the last time."
"This is the third time you've rinsed it out, it's already clean."
"Let me go," he growls, "I don't want there to be any trace of him
