A/N: We know that once a vampire cuts his or her hair, it doesn't grow back. But, knowing that, has Esme ever been tempted to change with the styles??

Very carefully, I lifted a section of hair, folded it, and pinned it near the crown of my head, crisscrossing the bobby pins so they were secure. I glanced back at the picture of the First Lady taped to the mirror, then to my reflection, verifying that I had the length correct. Satisfied, I moved to the next section, folded, and pinned. As I again checked my handiwork, I caught his reflection in the mirror. My hands, which had already been lifting the next section of hair, paused and I remained still. He was leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets, watching me silently, a peculiar expression on his face.

He must have realized I caught him spying and as I watched in the mirror, he straightened and entered our bedroom. He still hadn't said a word in greeting and I hadn't turned towards him. In curiosity, I raised an eyebrow, knowing that he would see it in the reflection. He chuckled softly as he came to stand behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders.

"What?" I asked, my words slightly slurred due the dozen pins held between my teeth.

He only smiled and then leaned down. I felt his nose gently brushing along the skin on the back of my neck. His lips followed, lightly like butterfly wings. I gasped at the sensation, the pins fell to the floor and I dropped the section of hair I had still be holding.

Still leaning over me, I saw him glance at the picture and then once again he caught my eyes in the mirror. With a slight curve of his lips, he whispered, "While I agree there are certain...benefits to your hair being up like this, and you do look exceptionally beautiful right now..." His words trailed off as he brushed his fingers along the collar of my dressing gown and up the column of my neck before sweeping softly back down. Captivated, I watched as he paused and with a quick shake of his head, his fingers plunged into my hair, deftly removing the pins I had so carefully placed just moment prior. "I much prefer your hair like this," he murmured.

Before I knew what was happening, he had lifted me from the chair, taken the seat and settled me in his lap. He played with my hair, sweeping it back from my face, tucking the strands behind my ears, and smoothing it over my shoulders. When he was satisfied, he nodded and smiled with pleasure. After a moment, he glanced at the mirror. Reaching slightly, he pulled the picture off and crumpled it in his hand.

"You know...If I really wanted to cut my hair, you couldn't stop me," I sighed, torn between feelings of annoyance and lust.

"I'll buy you a wig... I'll buy you an entire wig factory," he replied, his eyes imploring. I laughed believing that he was joking but he took my face in his hands and rested his forehead against mine. "Please... I love your hair. I love the way it feels, the way it smells, the way it drapes over my chest when we lie together, the way it cocoons us when you're on top of me, shutting out the rest of the world..."

Moved beyond words, and incredibly turned on, I interrupted him with a searing kiss. "If it means that much to you, I promise never to cut it."

He grinned and kissed me again and again and again, all thoughts of haircuts forgotten.

A/N: The photo that was taped to the mirror is found here: www. metmuseum. org /special/JacquelineKennedy/images/2.L.jpg Just remove the spaces