Locks of Time

“…hair,” Tim heard Wisdom say from his lap, as she gazed up at him with her unnerving eyes, “Another small change on a grand scale. Since necessity **** this last trade on you, I decided to reward you with something useful."

Tim took his hands off of Wisdom's head and brought them up to his own. Gone was the short cropped hair that was the last obvious reminder of his former self. In its place was long, wavy brown hair, silky smooth to the touch.

"How can this be useful?!" Tim asked, his feminine voice taking on a shrill tone. He had never asked for either a ridiculously long life, nor for feminine hair. At least with Justice, he got something that he wanted every time he traded, even if he lost a bit of himself each time.

"A man like you has no time to worry about beauty treatments, about salons, about trends in style. You have been given authority and respect. More than that, you have been given the admiration of a growing number of lovers. And now you have been given the gift of time."

"My hair is time?" Tim stood up, pushing Widsom's head from his lap, and walked to the bar to grab a straw to suck on, hoping it would ease the incessant urge to suck.

"No," Wisdom said, climbing to her feet, a surprisingly meek look on her face, "your hair gives you time. Just as I took a time from each woman on earth, so did I share your hair with each of them. Upon your head will rest, each day, a style, a colour, a length of hair from a woman somewhere on this planet, one that will naturally and perfectly match the outfit you choose. No longer will you need to fret over preparing your hair for your day. From now on, your hair will prepare itself."

The straw rolling around in his mouth, Tim fumed. Yes, he knew that it would have been only a matter of time for this trade to come along. It seemed inevitable. Even so, it seemed so unfair!

"I don't want it," he said, folding his arms under his breasts, causing his cleavage in his red leather minidress to bulge.

Wisdom paused and stared at him, her eyes causing his stomach to turn somersaults. She pursed her lips, seeming to consider, then...

"What's done is done," she said in a strained voice, "The trade is necessary for the survival of Creation. Greatly do I desire to serve you in a different way, but the part of me that was my daughter Justice will not bend. Creation must survive."

"What about another trade. Isn't there something else of equal weight that we can use?"

"Believe me when I say that other trades that could be done on this grand of scale were far less palatable, sir."

The straw fell from Tim's mouth at the sound of Wisdom, mother of the immortals, calling him sir. Were Lust and Desire affecting her that strongly? Was she beginning to see him the way that they did? He reached behind the bar and grabbed a cherry to suck on, then turned back to the being standing before him.

"Fine," he placed his hands on his hips, "Maybe you're right. If Justice thinks the trade has to stand, then I won't argue. But I'm not happy. In fact, I'm very unhappy with what you've done."

"But you consented," Wisdom's voice sounded smaller than it had been, "I would not have..."

"But you did," Tim snapped, "I was distracted by the previous trade you made with me," he pulled the stem of the cherry out of his mouth, tied in a knot, then grabbed a fresh one from the same place he had gotten the first, "and couldn't concentrate. You immortals are all the same, not taking into account the impact on the lives of humans that you have. We're not your playthings."

"I would never consider you my plaything," Wisdom said, tears forming in her dark eyes. She fell to her knees before Tim, "Please, sir, I beg you to forgive me. I would never have purposely done something to harm you."

"That's easy for you to say after you've already done what you wanted to do," Tim said, rolling his eyes, "but I'm the one left living like this, maybe forever."

Tears were now flowing freely down Wisdom's cheeks. Tim was careful not to look directly into her eyes, as he wanted to hold onto his sense of power and authority, and he knew that if she locked eyes with him, all momentum he had built would evaporate. Instead, he stared at the space just behind her, an empty piece of floor, giving him an aloof image. As if sensing that Tim was giving up on her, Wisdom bowed down and pressed her forehead down on the ground in front of him, then looked up and began to kiss his exposed toes through the straps of his sandals.

"Ugh," he took a step back, again pulling a tied cherry stalk from his mouth, "Stop that. You don't have to..."

"I have failed you," Wisdom said, her voice full of despair, "Of course I have to. I cannot make the trade again without failing you further, but I must do something to prove my loyalty. Perhaps..." she paused, then straightened, her face growing a smile, "Yes, there are other ways that I can please you my liege. Would you allow me to do so?"

Tim looked down at the formerly proud immortal, reduced to a puddle on the floor. She seemed inspired to correct her mistake, or at least to appease him. He knew better than to trust her kind without more information, but she was still the embodiment of Wisdom, so how bad could her ideas possibly be?

"What do you have in mind?"