Sarah Goes All the Way

The clippers’ high pitched drone sent a shiver racing through Sarah’s slim body.  This was the moment she had been anticipating for the last month.  This also was the moment she had been dreading for just as long.  Would she have the nerve to go through with her plan?  Would she finally give in to the bizarre fixation that had taken control of her imagination?  Or would she somehow regain her sanity and walk out of the barber shop with her beautiful long hair untouched?
Sitting in the hard plastic chair, Sarah watched intently as the barber expertly clipped his next to last victim.  The pile of brown hair scattered on the white tile floor indicated that the young man had begun the day with considerably more hair on his head.  When he left the shop he would be cropped close to the scalp.  Never before had she witnessed such a scene.
The hour was growing late.  Soon her turn would come.  According to plan, she had arrived at the barber shop at exactly ten before six.  It was now five minutes after.  A “closed" sign hung in the window; the shades were drawn.  She came at this hour because she hoped to avoid gawking witnesses.
It will be so much easier, she thought, if no one is watching while my hair is cut. 
Dressed in a conservative navy skirt and a crisp sleeveless white blouse, Sarah would not have been out of place waiting for a doctor’s appointment or even at a job interview. But passersby surely would have wondered what such a well-groomed young woman was doing in this nondescript barber shop.  The twenty-nine-year-old graduate student unconsciously fingered the ends of the glossy dark brown pony tail.  She nervously adjusted her glasses with their recently acquired Versace frames; the ones she chose to make her look both stylish and intellectual.  If she went through with this plan, her fashionable image would be forever altered.
Sarah’s face was drawn in pensive deliberation.  Her brooding look revealed the last-minute debate raging within her brain.  Was she ready to sacrifice the silken mane she had lovingly tended since grade school?  Was she prepared to sacrifice the abundant locks that had been her trademark for as long as anyone could remember?  Was she willing to submit to a shearing that would drastically alter her elegant image?  Her presence in the barber shop indicated a readiness to take this momentous step.  Still, it was not too late to chicken out, an option Sarah had not entirely rejected.
Sarah’s attention shifted away from her personal dilemma as the stocky middle aged barber continued buzzing the the fellow seated in the chrome and leather barber’s chair.  She held her breath when he deftly began guiding his clippers back and forth across his customer’s crown. Within a few minutes the top of his head was mowed down to a stunning, perfectly flat surface.  It was a radical change, one that made Sarah squirm with nervous excitement.  She had seen the haircut before, of course, on athletes and military men, but never before had she observed firsthand the technique required to create this distinctive look.  The conversion from long hair to short took her breath away—it was almost magical.  She couldn’t believe how casually the two men talked and joked as if nothing out-of-the-ordinary was happening.  To her mind, this was the most exciting, most amazing, most daring, haircut imaginable.
How can they be so nonchalant? How can he be so calm at a moment like this? she thought as she drank in every detail.
The patron being shorn noticed Sarah’s awestruck gaze and offered a friendly smile.  Under other circumstances she might have returned his greeting. He appeared to be about her age and was the ruggedly handsome outdoors type she found attractive.  Being ogled by overly friendly guys was an everyday occurrence for Sarah, but today she was acutely self-conscious.  Instead of smiling back, she buried her eyes in an outdated sports magazine.
He probably wonders what I’m doing here all alone, without a male escort, she thought. 
The presence of a young female in this masculine environment was out of the ordinary, to say the least.  That was one of the reasons she agonized so long before working up the courage to enter this establishment. She knew she would be conspicuous, but this was the best setting for the haircut she desired.
Give me strength, she fervently prayed. It won’t be much longer.
It had taken a month of searching to decide on the proper site for her transformation.  The Yellow Pages listings under “Barber Shop" were not much help.  She immediately eliminated all those with “unisex" in the title; these trendy places would not be suitable. But that left a dozen shops whose ads all looked pretty much the same.  One by one, she drove to the addresses and surreptitiously inspected the premises.  Only one met all of her criteria—off the beaten path, not too busy, clean, unpretentious, with only one barber.  The red, white, and blue barber pole revolving outside the front door marked it as a traditional, old-fashioned barber shop.
It’s probably been there for decades, she noted after driving away. This one looks just right.
It took another week to work up the nerve to call the number listed for Mel’s Barber Shop.  “Do you do ladies’ haircuts?" was her initial question.  The proprietor proved more accommodating than expected.  Yes, he did cut women’s hair, although not very often.  She should not expect a high fashion style, he cautioned; he only did basic cuts. No appointment was needed; she could come any time.  It would be helpful if she brought a picture of the hairstyle she wanted.  He sounded cordial, professional, and, most importantly, not offended by the prospect of a woman invading his shop.  Their conversation confirmed her earlier observation.
Yes, this definitely seems like the right place, she resolved.
Finally the barber put down his clippers and began applying shaving cream to his customer’s neck.  Sarah sensed they had reached the final stage of his haircut.  Her anxiety increased as she realized her turn would come in a matter of minutes.  She watched the barber shave him with a straight razor and wipe away the excess with a small towel.  He held a small mirror behind his head so the freshly clipped customer could inspect the flawless symmetrical shape of his head.  The young man nodded his approval.  “Now that’s what I call a real flat top," he exclaimed with evident satisfaction.  At that the barber released him from the enormous chair.  As the handsome fellow reached into his wallet to pay for his shearing he shot a sidelong glance at Sarah. This time she gave him a coy smile indicating her appreciation of his eye-catching haircut.
So that’s how a flat top is done, she thought. I wonder if I’ll be brave enough. 
He paid and headed for the door, but not before sending Sarah a playful wink.  “You have fun," he called as a parting shot.  “Mel’s the best in the business."
 Now she and the barber were alone in the silent shop.  He stood behind the vacant chair, intently looking in her direction, patiently waiting for Sarah to make the next move.  She sat motionless, trying to summon the courage to rise from her seat.  For a moment the scene resembled a Mexican standoff—the barber with hands on hips, challenging her to step forward; the woman, temporarily paralyzed by fear or indecision.  Neither spoke as the tension mounted.
It’s now or never, she told herself. Time to make a fresh start.
Somehow Sarah found the strength to stand on unsteady legs and hesitantly stepped toward her fate.  At five-foot-nine, her slender body cut a graceful figure as she crossed the small room; the elegant pony tail hanging half way down her back swished back and forth as she walked.  The barber admired her unanticipated beauty.  He had been expecting someone older; certainly not someone this good looking.  In twenty-five years of barbering he never had faced a customer like this young woman; had never given a haircut to anyone so attractive.  A welcoming smile creased his face.  “You must be Sarah," he said, extending his hand in greeting.  “So, you’re here at last.  I thought you might never come."  Although the two had never met face-to-face, they had exchanged half a dozen phone calls over the past week as she struggled to make up her mind.  He felt like he knew her already.
He seems happy to see me, she noted. I hope he’s not going to make a big deal over my haircut. 
“Hello Mel," she replied as she shook his warm hand.  “Yes, I finally made up my mind.  I hope I’m not too late."
“Never too late for someone like you, darlin’," he declared.  Normally Sarah would have been put off by the easy familiarity of the barber’s comment.  Under other circumstances she might have corrected him, but tonight she supposed he was entitled to assume a personal connection.  After all, she had pestered him with daily phone calls as he helped her weigh the options.  Mel had been patient and kind, never trying to pressure her into a premature decision.  In the end, his professionalism won her over.
He seems like an understanding guy, she said. He seems like someone I can trust.
Slowly Sarah eased herself into the large chair, its red leather seat still warm from its previous occupant.  Modestly, she pulled her skirt down to cover her bare knees.  Mel shook out the white cape, sending a flurry of dark clippings to the floor.  She held her pony tail out of his way as he wrapped a thin tissue around her neck and draped the cloth around her shoulders, snapping tightly it behind her neck.  She surrendered her glasses to the barber.  “I suppose I won’t be needing these for a while," she remarked.
“Are you ready?" he asked gravely.
“Well, I’m sitting here in your chair with this cloth tied around my neck.  That should tell you something," she retorted with a hint of sarcastic irritation in her voice.
Of course I’m ready, mister, and don’t try to talk me out of it, she silently rebuked him.
“So what’s your pleasure today?" he asked.  “On the phone we discussed several possibilities."
Sarah recalled the lengthy discussions in which Mel described the various cuts he could administer.  All were basic men’s styles ranging from moderately long to severely short.  All week she had vacillated among the various alternatives.  “I want you to cut it short," she told him with false bravado.
There, I said it, she proudly told herself. The genie is out of the bottle and no one can put it back.
“Did you bring a picture like I told you?" he asked.
“Well, no.  I couldn’t really decide," she replied.  “You suggested cutting my hair in stages—giving me a series of haircuts—and that sounds like a good idea.  I’ll let you know when you’ve reached the right length."
“Sure, I can do that," he answered.  “There’s no one else coming in so we can take our time."
Sarah wanted no more conversation.  “I suppose we should get started," she not-so-gently encouraged him.
Please begin before I die of nerves, she wordlessly pleaded.
Mel did as she suggested.  He took a pair of scissors and snipped the elastic band that bound her deep brown tresses.  Sarah shook the thick mane as it cascaded over her shoulders, bouncing to the middle of the chair back.  Earlier that morning she thoroughly washed her abundant locks in the shower, enjoying the bountiful lather one last time.  There were many things she would miss when her long hair was gone; the luxury of a fragrant, steamy shampoo was at the top of the list. The barber let out a second admiring whistle.  “Good gracious, darlin’, that’s a lot of hair," he exclaimed.  Sarah guessed from his awestruck expression that never before had he seen so much hair waiting to be removed.
It certainly is a lot of hair; too damn much hair.  That’s precisely why I’m sitting here, she thought.
“And I want you to cut it all off.  You can do that, can’t you?" she demanded.
“Sure thing, darlin’," he said.  “I just don’t understand why you want to get rid of all this lovely hair.  Most women would die for hair like this."
How many times have I heard that line? she silently exclaimed. I’m so sick of women envying me.  I’m tired of them not being able to see past my hair.
“And that’s exactly why I want you to cut it," she declared angrily.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, darlin’."
I suppose I do owe him an explanation, she decided.
“See, my hair is the first thing that people notice; many times it’s the only thing.  Women hate me because they feel drab and ordinary in comparison; men are always hitting on me because they think I’m some kind of sex goddess."
“That’s a problem I never had," joked the balding barber.
But Sarah did not divulge the other reason that brought her to his shop.  She was nearing the end of graduate school.  Her doctoral dissertation in the field of women’s history was nearly complete.  She had three job interviews scheduled in the coming month, all at leading universities.  When her major advisor learned where Sarah had applied, she invited her for a confidential chat.  “At all of the departments where you will be interviewing key faculty members are lesbian," she confided.  This hardly came as a surprise to Sarah; a significant number of scholars in her field were homosexual women.  “Your chances of being hired will be greatly enhanced if they think you share their sexual preference."
Sarah was shocked to think that a job offer at a major university could be influenced by others’ perception of her sexual orientation.  “But you know I’m hopelessly hetero," she replied.
“I know, my dear," her advisor continued in a kindly but confidential tone.  “I’m not suggesting you do anything dishonest exactly, but it wouldn’t hurt if you let them draw the wrong conclusion."
“I’m not sure what you mean," Sarah admitted, more that a bit perplexed by the direction their conversation was taking.
“Your hair, my dear, your lovely hair.  You really need to do something about your hair," she pointedly suggested.
“What do you mean?  Shall I put it up in a bun for the interviews or hide it under a hat?" she inquired hopefully.
“No, my dear, you need to cut it off."  Sarah sat in stunned disbelief, trying to absorb the bombshell that just landed in her lap. “Believe me, this is not something I say lightly," her advisor added sympathetically.  “I know this is asking a lot.  If men were making the hiring decision I would tell you to flaunt your crowning glory; dazzle them with your glorious hair; let it flow for all the world to see.  But that’s not the case.  These women will be more likely to recommend you if your hair is short like theirs.  Of course, there’s no guarantee that a haircut alone will win the job, but without it your chances are very slim indeed."
Sarah realized that following this advice could start her academic career on the right foot.  All of her grad school professors stressed the importance of the first academic appointment.  If you start at Podunk U., that’s most likely where you will remain.  If you want to rise to the top of your profession, you have to begin at a big-name school.
Sarah went to her apartment that evening torn by indecision.  Of course, there had been times in past dozen years when she toyed with the idea of trying a different hairstyle; hair as long as hers could be chore to maintain; a change might be fun. But she never entertained those thoughts for long.  Her mother’s voice always came back to haunt her: “Tall girls like you should never wear short hair." Besides, weren’t short haircuts were for middle-aged soccer moms who drove minivans? She definitely didn’t want to be mistaken for that species.  Keeping her long-established hairstyle always won out.
What her advisor was asking was drastic step, but Sarah had always been ambitious.  She spent four years researching and writing her dissertation on women directors in the early film industry.  This topic had the potential to win her national acclaim as an up-and-coming young scholar.  Without the right position, however, the path to the top would be difficult indeed.
Almost immediately Sarah went on-line and began researching short hairstyles.  It didn’t take long to discover sites featuring the butch hairstyles favored by lesbians—the shorter, the better.  She tried to picture herself wearing one of the androgynous hairdos sported by prominent queer activists.  It was a state of mind she couldn’t fathom.
Why do they want to look like men? she wondered. What’s the appeal of such short hair, anyway?
Yet, at random moments Sarah found herself returning to websites displaying these masculine haircuts.  Most intriguing were the photos of young women before and after their radical makeovers.  In the long-haired “before" photos" most of the models looked solemn or sad, as if the prospect of being shorn was weighing on their minds.  In the short-haired “after" photos they invariably looked jubilant, as if they had been relieved of an intolerable burden.  She tried to imagine the sensation of having her raven locks cropped so close.  To her surprise, she found the idea strangely exhilarating.
Long hair had always been Sarah’s trademark, but now the thought of cutting it off was an idea she could not shake.  She didn’t understand why she was reacting this way, but something about the prospect of receiving a very short haircut was sexually arousing.
What’s happening? she wondered. Why is this turning me on?  Does this mean I’m a latent lesbian?
With each passing day Sarah grew increasingly preoccupied with the urge to have her hair cut very short.  For the last week she could think of little else.  At night she dreamed about visiting a barber shop and being mercilessly shorn by a stern, uncompromising barber.  It was not a nightmare, but an erotic fantasy.  Finally, she decided that a short haircut would help start her career on the right foot and, at the same time, satisfy her unquenchable curiosity.
Sarah told no one about her plan, not even her roommates or major professor.  She knew everyone would barrage her with questions the first time she appeared in public with short hair; before that she had to find the nerve to realize her vision.
The barber began running his black-toothed comb through her luxurious dark tresses.  Sarah closed her eyes and quietly endured his ministrations.


He’s probably never had a customer with hair as long as mine, she concluded. He’s afraid I’m going to freak out when he starts cutting.
She sensed his reluctance to begin her haircut despite the telephone conversations they had had leading up to this evening.  Apparently he did not understand her reasons for being there and she couldn’t really blame him for that—hers undoubtedly would be unlike any haircut he had ever given.  Still, he had agreed to give her the cut of her choosing.  She needed his cooperation to accomplish the transformation she sought; she didn’t want to antagonize him by appearing impatient.
Mel continued combing.  Sarah knew from viewing the previous customer’s haircut that this was not the normal routine.  She sensed he was stalling; trying to avoid giving her the drastic makeover she requested.  He was providing one last opportunity to reconsider and back out.
At last she spoke up.  “Okay, Mel.  It’s time to get started," she encouraged him.  “I don’t want to keep you here all night."  It was not concern for the barber that prompted Sarah’s impatience. In reality, she couldn’t wait any longer; she was more than ready for her haircut to commence.
Mel selected a pair of silver scissors and held them at a point slightly below Sarah’s ear.  “We’ll start with a basic bob and full bangs," he announced.  Sarah recognized this as one of the styles she had considered and rejected.  She was certain that this would not be short enough to suit her, yet it was a good beginning.
The barber paused, waiting for her final consent.
Sarah sat rigidly upright, her eyes staring straight ahead at the mirror mounted on the wall.  A barely perceptible nod was her signal to begin.  She held her breath and swallowed hard as Mel slowly closed the blades.  She trembled slightly as a two-foot section of severed hair slid silently to the floor.  She gazed incredulously at the gap left by the missing lock. For nearly twenty years her hair had hung past her shoulders.  Now that stage of her life was coming to an end.
There, it’s begun, she thought. There can be no turning back now.  I’m committed.
The barber selected a second lock, slightly behind the first, and cut again.  Slowly, deliberately, Mel worked his way around her head, effortlessly amputating the mane she had lovingly cultivated for so many years.  Mel concentrated on the task at hand, carefully measuring each slice.  Sarah studied his every move, a solemn expression on her expectant face.  Only the harsh grating of the blades closing on her hair disturbed the silence in the shop.  When Mel reached the back of her head, a thrill shot down Sarah’s spine as she felt the cold steel of his scissors grazing the bare skin on the back of her neck.  She felt a lump swelling in her throat as she visualized more silky tresses falling to the ground.
Don’t let him see you cry, she admonished herself. This is what you wanted, remember? She forced a weak smile across her lips.
With a few more slices Mel reached the other side of her head. A final cut amputated the remaining long strand. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.
For better or worse, I’m now a short-haired woman, she silently declared.
Next Mel moved in front of Sarah and combed a section of dark hair down across her forehead until her eyes were completely covered. He inserted his scissors slightly below her eyebrow and cut in a straight line to create a generous fringe.  Then he circled her head a second time, meticulously combing, snipping, and trimming, making sure the ends were perfectly straight.  Finally, the barber used a small clipper to remove the wispy hairs that covered her neck.
Mel stepped back to let Sarah absorb the magnitude of the change he had just inflicted.  She asked for her glasses and critically inspected the chin-length bob she now wore.  She turned her head from side to side, examining the blunt-cut ends of her new hairdo as they lightly brushed against her cheeks.  The barber held a small mirror behind her head so she could view the shortened back.  Sarah saw that Mel had done an excellent job, much better than she expected.  She now bore a striking resemblance to Louise Brooks, the silent film star of the Twenties.  Sarah was both surprised and pleased at the result of Mel’s efforts.
 It’s not a bad look, she observed to herself, not bad at all.  This guy really knows how to cut hair.
For a brief moment Sarah contemplated halting her haircut at this point.  She loved the timeless look of the bob; it was classic yet contemporary.  For years she had avoided bangs, considering them something for little girls, yet she realized the fringe Mel had given her imparted a sultry, sexy appeal.  On another occasion she might have been delighted with this style, but tonight it was not an option.  If she wanted to make an impression on the lesbian professors she would have to go shorter.  She was determined to press on.
“Shall we continue?" she evenly intoned as she handed back her glasses.  It was less a question than a command and the barber responded promptly.
“You’re the boss," he replied, although she sensed his regret at destroying the sleek bob he had just created.  “Next we’ll try a boy’s cut.  It’s a good bit shorter," he explained.
“That sounds good," she agreed, although she doubted this would be her final destination.  Using his comb, Mel lifted a hank of hair from the back of her head and snipped off a three-inch section.  Working more rapidly than previously, he moved up her head, steadily clipping away more hair with each slice.  He went back over the back several times, cutting it slightly shorter with each pass.  His scissors clicked together, sending a steady rhythm into the otherwise quiet shop.  The barber spent ten minutes sculpting a gradual, tapered look.  The hair at the base of Sarah’s neck was now half an inch long; closer to the crown it was little more than an inch in length—far shorter than she had ever worn it.  While she could not see what Mel was doing, she felt his comb grazing her scalp.  She realized that her hair now was shorter than many of the men she dated.  She wondered what they would say if they could see her now.  Would they still be attracted to her?
This is it, she admonished herself. This is what you asked for.  You must be prepared to accept the consequences.
When the back was entirely cropped, Mel turned his attention to the right side of her head.  With a few deft strokes he cut away the dark shield protecting her delicate ear.  He carved the hair into a sharply pointed sideburn.  He trimmed the hair above her ear the length he had reduced the back and did the same to the left side of her head.  When both were equally shortened, he rested his scissors and sprayed a fine mist of water over her head.  Then he repeatedly inserted serrated thinning shears into the longer hair on top.  “This will help your thick hair lie down more evenly," Mel explained as he continued cutting.  Finally, he drew a clean part down the left side of her head and combed the damp hair over her head, sweeping her newly fashioned bangs across her brow.
Once again he paused and returned her glasses.  Shards of dark hair littered the white cape that enveloped her slender frame.  Sarah glanced at the floor where piles of her discarded tresses lay trampled beneath the soles of the barber’s sturdy black shoes.  Her eyes moved back to the mirror, absorbing the latest alteration to her appearance.  She studied the unfamiliar figure seated in the big chair sporting a longish boy’s haircut.
Now I look like Justin Bieber, she decided.  This was a far cry from the look she desired.  Still, she had to smile at the incongruous juvenile image.
“You like?" the barber inquired.
“It’s kinda cute," she acknowledged.
“We can stop here," he offered hopefully.
Sarah didn’t consider his offer, not even for a moment.  Her mind was set. “Continue," she ordered.
The barber shrugged.  “You’re the boss," he repeated.
Mel took her glasses and began attacking the hair on top of her head.  He started with her bangs, snipping them so only two inches remained.  Instead of cutting evenly, this time he fashioned a jagged, feathered fringe.  Pieces of hair tumbled down Sarah’s face, coming to rest in her lap.  The barber grasped a second piece, slightly above her forehead and cut again.  Mel worked his way back along her crown, discarding the remnants with a casual flick of his wrist.  Instead of cutting uniformly he chopped seemingly at random, creating an uneven carpet of dark tufts.  By the time Mel reached the back of her head the length had been reduced by half.  He tousled her hair to erase the part and applied a dose of styling gel. With a stiff brush he coaxed the freshly cropped locks upward until a thicket of dark brown spikes sprouted from her scalp.
When Mel returned her glasses Sarah grinned approvingly.  She recognized the trendy punk style worn by some of her more daring fellow grad students.  It was disconcerting to see this exotic cut atop her head, but it was a gratifying sight.
Yes, this is much better. Now we’re getting somewhere, she silently declared.
Once again Mel stopped.  “This is a good look for you," he suggested hopefully.
Sarah thought for a moment.  Mel’s most recent creation was an appealing style.  It probably was short enough to satisfy the lesbian professors who would be interviewing her, but she was caught up in the momentum of her serial haircuts.  A compulsion had seized her and would not release its grip.  She had to see it though to its inescapable finale.  “I like it," she agreed, “but it’s not short enough."
“So you want to go all the way?" he asked.
“What exactly do you mean by going all the way?" she asked.  “You’re not going to shave me.  I don’t want to wind up bald."
“No, I would never shave you, darlin’.  To my mind the flat top is the ultimate short haircut.  You know, like I did for the guy who just left," he reminded her.  “I saw how you were watching his haircut.  You looked like kid yearning for a cool Popsicle on a hot summer’s day.  I think that’s where you want to go, isn’t it?""
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want," Sarah announced with undisguised eagerness. At last she had revealed her ultimate fantasy.
This is it, she told herself. This is what you’ve been waiting for. 
“Okay, one flat top coming up, darlin’," Mel confirmed.
Sarah felt another shiver of excitement sweep over her body when Mel reclaimed her glasses.  She grasped the arms of the barber chair to keep from shaking as he resumed her haircut.  This time he exchanged his scissors for an electric clipper.  He fastened an attachment over the blades and switched on the power.  Holding the buzzing instrument in his right hand, he placed his left on top of her head, forcing her chin down toward her chest.  He laid the clippers on her bare neck. Sarah felt the cold metal pressing against her skin.  This was the moment of truth.  She willingly surrendered her fate into the hands of this stranger whom she had met only thirty minutes before.  Already he had made her into a person she hardly recognized, but the most radical alteration was yet to come.  Never in her life had she done anything so unconventional, so impulsive, yet she felt strangely exhilarated as she anticipated the final stage of her transformation.  Somehow, it seemed right.
Mel guided his clippers up into the dark pelt covering the back of her head.  Sarah sat transfixed as she experienced the clipper’s hungry blades chewing through her thick hair.  The sensation was frightening and liberating at the same time.  Had she been able to view the back of her head, she would have seen them peeling away the last protective covering, leaving only a brief stubble in their wake.
At this point all Sarah could do was concentrate on the weird and wonderful sensations pulsing through her body.  Mel pretended not to notice as he continued buzzing around her ears until the hair on the sides of was as short as the back.  The shoulders of the white cape were now coated with a layer of fine dark brown clippings that had recently been attached to her head.
Sarah scrutinized the latest alteration in her image as best she could without her glasses. It was an arresting vision.  Where Mel’s clippers had passed, her hair was only a quarter inch long.  The hair on top of her head, still spiked, remained roughly two inches in length.  It was a severe look, but one she found pleasing. Still, she knew he was not done.  One step remained before her haircut was finished; in only a few more minutes her conversion would be complete.
“Now do the top," she commanded.  This time there was no hesitation, no doubt in her voice.  She could not wait to see the final outcome.
This is it; this is what you’ve been obsessing over, she said to herself. Just try to keep your composure.
“You’re the boss," the barber said once more.
Mel removed the guard from his clippers and inserted his comb into the upright hair at the back of her crown.  Sarah braced herself for the final assault.  The barber ran the buzzing instrument across the horizontal comb, slicing away everything above its black teeth.  Sarah froze as she heard the blades bite into her upright locks.  Mel moved his comb forward and repeated the motion on the next section.  Step by step, he reduced the hair on top of her head to a perfectly level plane barely half an inch long.  Sarah sat rigidly in place, scarcely breathing, intently following every detail of the barber’s practiced actions.  She watched with growing fascination as he stripped away the last traces of femininity.  She felt his comb resting on top of her crown and realized her hair was now as short as the young man who had preceded her.   As Mel moved toward the front of her head he left the hair slightly longer.  Above her forehead he carved an upright brown bumper half an inch high.  Sarah blinked as the clippings landed on her forehead and nose, but made no effort to brush them away.
Next Mel trimmed the sides.  Sarah watched as he held his comb straight up and used the clippers to create two vertical walls intersecting with the flattened top at a sharp angle. He concentrated all of his attention on his task, determined to create an exact replica of the cut he had administered to the young man thirty minutes before.
When he finished the sides, Mel returned his attention to the top of Sarah’s head.  He skillfully guided his clippers across her severely cropped head a second time, this time without the aid of his comb, clipping another fraction of an inch from the level surface of her hair. He peered closely to make sure everything was absolutely level.  Sarah held onto the chair with all of her strength; never in her life had she felt anything so thrilling. The drop at the top of a roller coaster ride was tame by comparison.
At last Mel switched off the power to his clippers and attacked her shortened hair with his brush, forcing every shaft to stand upright in perfect order.
“Well, there you go, darlin’," he said with finality.  “One flat top just like you asked for."
Sarah sat in stunned silence, trying to absorb the magnitude of her makeover.  Mel handed her glasses back so she could view her haircut more clearly.  He held a small mirror behind her head so she could inspect every detail of her extreme new style.  Her swinging pony tail was gone, replaced by a severe military-style flat top.  It was an exceptional statement; a radical departure from her previous glamorous look, but Sarah was elated with the result.  Her face was now fully exposed; her cobalt blue eyes shone with a fierce intensity, daring anyone to disparage her new look.
Sarah extended a hand from beneath the cape and tentatively fingered the bristles on the back of her head.  Then she ran her palm across the flattened top.  It was a strange, velvety sensation, something she had tried in vain to imagine in the weeks leading up to this moment. Her scowl was replaced by a broad satisfied smile.
“Is this what you wanted?" the barber asked hesitantly.  “What do you think?"
“Mel, this is one awesome haircut.  It’s exactly what I wanted.  It’s perfect," she announced with obvious delight.  “You’ve done a marvelous job.  I’m so glad I came here."
The barber beamed with professional pride.  “I’ve done lots of flat tops for guys, but you are the first girl who asked for one."
“Are you going to shave my neck like you did for the guy?" she asked.
“If that’s what you want," he replied.
“Yes, I want the full treatment," she insisted.
Mel did as he was told, applying the shaving cream to her neck.  With a few deft strokes he drew a sharp diagonal line down each side and squared the back.  After wiping off the excess foam, he dusted her face and ears, released the cape from around her neck, and shook the excess hair to the floor.
Sarah stepped down from the chair, took her glasses and walked up to the large mirror on the wall to observe her haircut more closely.  The more she looked, the more convinced she became that she had made the right decision.
I can’t believe I did it, she exclaimed to herself. It’s like a whole new me was waiting to emerge from beneath that long hair.
After another minute she tore herself away from the mirror and stood in front of the cash register.
“That will be fifteen bucks, darlin’," Mel said.
She handed him two twenties.  “That’s way too much," he protested.
“Take it; you earned it," she insisted.  “That was an awful lot of hair you cut."
As Sarah prepared to leave his shop, Mel spoke up.  “If it’s not too personal, can you tell me why you chose this particular haircut?"
“Well, when I saw you giving the flat top to the guy ahead of me and saw how cool he looked I realized that was the best haircut for me too," she explained.
“Aren’t you concerned what the fellows will think?" he asked.
“They’ll probably think I’m a lesbian and that’s alright with me," she informed him.  She glanced at the pile of dark tresses scattered around the chair.  “It feels so wonderful to be relieved of that burden," she said with genuine conviction.  “I can’t believe I carried that mop around for so many years. I’m never going back to long hair."
Sarah turned and strode out of the shop with her head held high; proud she had found the courage to make the change and eager to face her future as a short-haired woman.
Mel walked over to his chair and picked a handful of Sarah’s long hair from the floor.  He shook his head in amazement.  “And I thought I’d seen everything," he said to no one in particular.

---

---

Those Lovely Curls

"My little girl has such beautiful hair... Such lovely golden curls..."
That's what her daddy had always said, about her hair. She was a young girl, no older than ten years old. The apple of her father's eye. Although she was beautiful in her frilly little dresses and silky stockings, her long golden ringlets that fell past her bottom were her father's favorite feature.
Her mother enjoyed dressing her daughter like a little doll... the two having one of the most darling children in their neighborhood. They seemed like the perfect little family... till the day the girl's parents had a fight. She didn't know why they were fighting, as she sat huddled on the couch, peeking over it and into the kitchen. All she could understand was her daddy had been spending too much time with his secretary from work.
Before she knew it, her daddy had been kicked out of the house... Her mother was throwing his clothes out the window in their room, spouting curses and screaming every now and then. The young girl stood in the doorway, staring at her mother.
The angry woman paused, as she spotted her little girl. Her eyes lingered on those golden curls. Without a word, she grasped her daughter's hand, and pulled her on down the stairs and out to the car.
"... Mommy... where are we going?" the little girl asked quietly as she was put in the backseat. Her mother's brows were furrowed, hands still shaking with upset from her husband's affair. "We're going on an errand, Julia" she informed, voice disturbingly flat. She then got into the car, and slammed the door... then turned on the engine, and they were off.
Juila felt tense... not sure she liked what this errand would be. She was confused, and worried, and it showed on her young face. They drove from the suburbs down into the city. Her mother parked the car, and took Julia by the hand as they walked out onto the sidewalk, and went down a block. Julia looked about the streets, seeing many small shops. Her mother dragged her along, and without a word pushed open the door of a little shop with a red and white pole twirling outside of it. A small bell rang as the door opened.
Julia's chest tightened, as she spotted a few big red leather chairs, a few mirrors, and her senses were assaulted with the scent of a ... barbershop. A little quiver ran down her spine. Her mommy took her to salons to have her hair trimmed... why would she take her here? ...
Keeping a firm grip on Julia's hand, her mother looked to the barber on duty. The barber, a fellow in perhaps his early 30's, glanced up from where he sat, a newspaper in hand, and he quirked a brow. "Hello miss... what can I do for you?" he asked as he walked over.
"... My daughter needs a haircut" she informed. The barber glanced to the quivering little girl. "... I don't really do long hair ma'am. I can trim her hair if that's what you want" he informed. "I think you'll be able to give her the cut I want" her mother informed. Juila felt a cold shock flow down her spine.
The barber looked perplexed, but he said nothing more as he walked to one of the big barber chairs. He put a small booster seat into it, since the girl was so small.
Julia was unsure what to think, as her mother plopped her down into the chair. She looked up to her, eyes wide and worried. "Mommy..." she began. Her mother's finger pressed to her lips to silence her.
An unfamiliar neck strip was wrapped about her little neck, followed by a large black cape which he threw about her little body. Pulling her hair out of the way, he snapped it tight about her small neck. Julia bit her lip, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her long ringlets contrasted greatly with the black cape... which covered all of her except her head. She felt very vulnerable, and it made her stomach tighten and flutter with butterflies.
"So what cut are you wanting me to give her, Miss?" the barber asked her mother. Julia looked up to her mother, beyond worried as she waited in anticipation of what her mother had in mind.
"Give her a buzzcut... one inch all over" her mother informed flatly. A buzzcut...? ... Julia's chest tightened. She didn't like the sound of that.
The barber quirked a brow. "That's awful short for a young girl..." he murmured. The mother glared at him. "She's being punished. And..." she looked to Julia sternly. "If she gives you any fuss, we'll go shorter" she informed. Julia stared at her mother. What!? Punishment!? ... she'd done something wrong?
Her young eyes watered with tears. "Mommy....? W-Whatever I did, I'm sorry! P-please don't make him cut my hair!" she pleaded. Her mother's face was merciless, unmoved by her daughter's pleas. Her daughter would never understand, why it was she was getting rid of her curls... those mocking curls.
The barber was silent, knowing better than to fight with an angry mother. Without a word, he went to his workstation, and picked up a pair of clippers. He adjusted the guard, and oiled them up. The barber glanced over his shoulder to the little girl. As mean as it was to cut off all those pretty locks... an opportunity like this didn't come very often.
Julia was sniffling... eyes watering as she looked to the barber with impending doom in her eyes. "Please..." she whimpered once more. "Julia you'll be quiet" her mother snapped. Julia sniffed, but buttoned her lip. She saw the barber come back with the clippers in hand. He flipped them on with a loud pop followed by a low humming sound. Her eyes watered more, making her vision blurry.
Though she could easily make out the clippers being lifted, humming softly as he brought them to her forehead. Her breathing had become uneven, as little sad tremors wracked her body. Then despite it all, she pulled away, whimpering. The barber smirked faintly, and with his other hand, he grasped her chin, holding her head in place. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as the buzzing clippers were lifted to her forehead again... the longest moment of her life... as he held them there, ready to push them back into her gorgeous mane.
In what could only be described as slow motion, the little girl's eyes widened as the barber slowly began to push the clippers back. Their pitched changed, as they slowly entered her hair. She couldn't breath, as the clippers slowly pushed along the center of her head.
A long golden lock slithered into her lap. Another few followed. The clippers soon reached her crown, and he lifted them up, revealing a long strip of short blond hairs amongst the flawless curls. She sobbed quietly as she saw the strip. There was no turning back now... no way to save her hair.
He pressed the clippers to the right of the first strip, and slowly pushed them back into her hair. They were sharp... cutting through her thick golden mane like a hot knife through butter. More long curls flowed down along the cape, to pool in her lap. She shook, hands clutching the arm rests of the chair. Surely this was all a nightmare...
Her mother sat off to the side, watching as the top of her daughter's head was slowly buzzed down to about an inch in length... Finished buzzing the top, he tipped her head to the right, and soon the buzzing clippers were pressed right in front of her ear, buzzing rather loudly. Julia sniffed, watching in the mirror as he pushed the clippers up, and the lovely lock in front of her ear fell free, plopping into her lap lifelessly.

The clippers roared about her ear, buzzing away more golden locks... leaving her little ear free and bared to the world. His hand had since grabbed hold of the locks on the other side of her head, tugging as he held her head in that tilted position. She continued to cry, watching in the mirror as the clippers were pushed up the side of her head, meeting the buzzed hair at the top.
When he was finished with that side, he forced her head in the other direction, moving the buzzing clippers about her ear... ridding her of more of her golden curls. The initial shock of her drastic haircut had slowly passed... and Julia quietly sniffed as he continued to buzz her hair off, lock by lock. Her eyes slowly closed, as the rhythmic buzzing filled her senses. The nuzzle of the clippers into her head, as each lock was clipped off.
Before she knew it, the barber was pushing her head down into her chest. She looked down at the huge pile of curls in her lap, and her eyes watered once more. It would be a long time before her hair was that long again.


Having parted the last remnants of her hair in the back, the barber rested the buzzing clippers on the back of her neck, and slowly began to push them up her nape.
Julia's little eyes widened... startled as the sensation as the clippers passed her hairline and buzzed up the back of her small nape. She squirmed a little in her seat, throat tightening. The barber's warm hand sat atop her head, holding her head in place in a domineering fashion.
Golden locks fell down about the chair... and the barber stepped upon them with little consolation. More fell, as the clippers rose higher and higher, till they met the short buzzed hairs at the top of her head. A warm blush had come to the little girl's face, as he began a second pass up her nape. She bit her lip, eyes closing. The clippers... they felt... good? ... why? ...
Glancing to the little girl's face in the mirror, the barber smirked a knowing smile. He worked slowly up the back of her head, along the length of her little nape. One more strip of beautiful curls. They soon fell to the floor with the rest... and the girl was left with a one inch buzz cut all over. He then manipulated her head in various directions, nuzzling the buzzing clippers into her scalp, trimming any spots that were uneven. Including another few long slow passes up the back of her nape... illiciting little shivers from the young girl.
Turning the clippers off, he looked to the mother, to see if she was happy with his handiwork. She rose from her seat, and approached. She then tipped up her daughter's chin, and looked her in the eyes. ".. Are you sorry for misbehaving?" she spoke... even though no bad deed had been done.
Julia was quiet a moment, as she looked up at her mother's stern eyes. What in the world had come over her... as she pondered how to answer that question. Her little stomach fluttered as she clutched the armrests once more. "No" she replied, with a hint of challenge in her voice. Her mother's eyes widened, surprised the girl dared to back talk her... Grimacing, she looked to the barber. "Shave her. I want her bald" she snapped, and released her daughter's chin.
Julia felt little butterflies in her tummy, as she heard her mother's forceful words. She glanced up toward the barber. The fellow caught the child's gaze, and he couldn't hide the hint of a smile that came to his face.
"Alright ma'am... a headshave, coming up!" he informed. Julia licked her lips, watching as the barber removed the guard from the clippers. He flipped them on... and brought them to her forehead.
She watched in the mirror, eyes wide with curiosity this time. She brought this upon herself... she... wanted this... wanted to feel more of those clippers, buzzing away her hair. A warmth spread over her as the clippers were pulled back over her head. Small 1 inch blond hairs fluttered all over. And amongst the short blond hairs was now a long strip of pale skin. A small smile tweaked Julia's lips. Such a change from her crying earlier.
Her little thighs clenched under the cape, as the barber buzzed the clippers over her head, removing what was left of her hair. He took his time, cupping her chin as he tipped her head whichever direction he needed. "This is a special blade... it shaves the hair to the skin" he informed, surprisingly talking more to the little girl that to her mother. Julia quivered at his words, eyes hazy as she watched him buzz her little head in the mirror. It was such a sight, her small perfectly round head, poking out from the black cape... and littered in her once crowning glory of beautiful curls.
Soon enough, he pushed her chin down into her chest. She closed her eyes, waiting impatiently to feel the guardless clippers nuzzle into her nape. She felt him rest the buzzing blade against the center of her neck. He then slowly pushed them up, up up... into her short hair. She gasped, brows furrowing. Julia had fallen in love with the feeling... it was amazing... like nothing she'd felt before.
Cradling her head, the barber nuzzled the clipper's into Julia's scalp, buzzing her as close as possible... no hair left unclipped. The low buzzing of the clippers was the only sound in the small shop... along with the uneven breathing of the little girl. Her mother figured it was another bout of crying from the child... little did she know the feelings those clippers were bringing the little girl.
When the last of her blond hair was buzzed to the skin, he turned off the clippers... and rubbed his hand over her head. "Almost done, little miss" he mused, before heading over to prepare some shaving foam and a straight razor.
Julia fidgeted in the chair... loins tingling from all that had been going on. She'd never understand it... so instead she would just enjoy it. She glanced at her reflection, and bit her lip. At least her head wasn't misshapen... and her ears didn't stick out.
The barber placed a hot towel on her small head. To soften the hairs, he said. Though soon enough he was taking it off, and applying some warm shaving cream with a small brush. Julia closed her eyes, silent as he covered her head in the white foam. She then heard the scraping of a straight razor on a leather belt. Her eyes fluttered open, watching in the mirror as the barber brought the razor to her forehead.
Her chest tightened and her stomach twisted, a little frightened of the sharp razor... but as he began the gentle shaving motion along the top of her head, she let out a small moan. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head... the scraping feeling so relaxing.
The barber went slowly, not wanting to knick the girl. He shaved about each ear carefully. Soon her chin was pressed into her chest once more. His hands felt so foreign upon her bald head. The razor was placed at the bottom of her neck and pulled up, along her nape, following the curve of her skull. Another moan escaped her, shivering as he shaved off the short hairs at the back of her head, and on over the occipital bone.
Just when she thought he was done, much to her disappointment, he got the cream and brush, and was once more covering her head in shaving cream. "This shall get you extra smooth" he murmured. The little girl smiled to herself, and closed her eyes, as more shaving ensued... Slow, firm strokes of the sharp razor along her naked scalp... shaving her to perfection.
When the last bit of cream had been shaved away, he wiped her head down with a warm towel... then applied some talc to her head, and a little lotion. She blushed as his hands moved across her head, caressing her in such an intimate place that had never been touched before by human hands.
He then whisked the cape from her, golden locks falling to the floor. Slowly the little girl got up, her legs shaky. The place between her thighs was soaked. Her mother walked over, and looked down at her, hands on her hips. "Hope you're happy" she mumbled. "Go sit in the waiting area while I pay the barber" she added.
Julia nodded... and she took a seat... frilly dress puffing out about her. She watched as her mother got out her wallet from her purse and counted out some bills.
It was then she realized, she'd not yet felt her head. Hesitantly she lifted a hand... and brought it to her temple... Her eyes widened, smoothing her palm along her smooth silky head. A shiver passed over her, as her other hand rose... caressing her naked head tenderly. She flushed... amazed that having all her hair cut off could feel so good.
Her mother was done, and she went to take the girl by the hand. Glancing over her shoulder, Julia watched as the barber began to sweep up her hair. The grown man caught her eye, and gave her a wink. She blushed.... and smiled as her mother lead her from the barbershop.
When her father found out what had been done to his daughter's hair, he was of course beyond angry. And knew his wife had done it merely to spite him. But it was selfish... hurting their daughter like that to get at him. Little did her mother know the can of worms she'd opened by committing such an act...


It had been many years ago, when a young girl by the name of Julia had been taken to a barbershop by her angry mother. Her long golden curls had been sheared off and her head had been shaved bald. Such a harsh act, and the little girl hadn't even done anything to deserve it. Her father had adored her hair, and her mother had done it out of spite for him. Thanks to such mistreatment of their child, the two eventually went through a divorce, and her father earned full custody of her. She never heard from her mother again, and the woman became a foggy memory of her childhood years. 

Distraught, Julia's father had bought her a wig to wear as her hair grew out. A year after the incident, her hair was long enough to dust her shoulders. And Julia was thankful since wearing the wig had been annoying. Her father easy fell back into the general up keep of her lovely hair. At first, the little girl had enjoyed his attentions. But as the years went on, she found herself becoming plagued with memories of that day. The feel of a strong hand on her head. A cape imprisoning her in the chair. Cold metal nibbling at her nape. And her long blond curls snaking into her lap. She'd never felt those odd tingles again since that day, unless she thought about it long and hard. But it was no where near as potent at living the moment. 

As the little girl grew, she'd find herself tempted at times, to take a pair of scissors to her head. Yet whenever she was about to make a cut, she'd recall how much her father loved brushing and tending to her hair. And how upset he'd been when she'd been taken home with a bald head. She couldn't get rid of her hair. Her father loved it too much. 

Childhood became a thing of the past. Julia worked through the phases of her teen year too. She did her best to ignore those memories from long ago, but some nights they were quite impossible to forget completely. 

During one outing with her friends, they ended up strolling some of the small boutiques of their downtown. Her mind had been on clothes, shoes, make up and gossip. That was, until she saw the hypnotic swirling of the white and red pole. The same one she'd seen as a child. Her friends were unaffected as they approached and soon walked past the barbershop. But Julia's gait had to slow. She stopped by the window, and had to stare in. The inside looked exactly as she remembered it. There was one barber working on a young man in his chair. He in fact had a pair of clippers in hand and was busy buzzing off the shaggy hair into a high and tight for his client. Julia's chest tightened, her breath hitched, and her loins buzzed as hair tumbled down from the client's head and to the floor. She remembered the feeling so vividly. And as she saw the barber's profile, she realized it was the same man. The one who had shaved her bald. 

"Julia?" one of her friends called. The teen jolted from her stupor and turned her head toward her friends who were staring at her oddly. 

"Sorry!" Julia apologized as she hurried from the window. Her long blond hair, which had grown down to her hips, wafted behind her. That was a time long ago. She was almost an adult. Surely these odd feelings would go away eventually. 

With her knowledge of where the shop was located, it proved both a blessing and a curse. Julia learned to drive that summer, and often times she found herself driving down that street to get a glimpse into the shop. Or she'd grab a cup of coffee from the nearby Starbucks, then sit down at one of the little tables next to the shop, so she could get a prime view of what was going on. Some days it was mere trims and tidy ups. But on the occasion, she was rewarded with some real action. Young boys taken in by their moms to remove their winter mops or young guys who had been putting off their haircuts would drop in and have themselves sheared down like sheep. Julia would squirm in her seat, as those delicious tingles would buzz between her legs. What she would give, to slide into that chair and demand to have herself shorn too. The long curls she had were terrible in the heat.

One of her many days out was even more exciting than the others. Once she'd gotten her coffee, she found herself surprised when she saw a Help Wanted sign in the window of the shop. Not for another barber, but for someone to handle cleaning up around the shop. Sweeping the floor, taking out the trash, doing the laundry for the towels that were used, and keeping the place tidy. Perfect for high schoolers, the sign said at the bottom. Well, she was a high schooler. And her father had been mentioning it'd be good for her to work a summer job. 

Before she had more time to talk herself out of it, Julia was quickly getting to her feet. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, as she pushed open the door. The bell rung above her head, and the barber, who was currently finishing up and elderly man in his chair, glanced over. The barber seemed to pause in his motions, as he eyed the young woman up and down. 

Julia swallowed thickly, then cleared her throat. Before she could say anything, the barber spoke. "Have a seat, shouldn't be more than five minutes," he informed. Julia deftly nodded, and sunk down on a bench in the waiting area. She watched him dust down his client with a little brush before he whisked the cape away. The elderly gentleman paid, and left. The barber finished his business at the cash register, before his eyes went back to Julia. She sat up straight as a chill ran down her spine. 

Had this barber, this man, always been so attractive? Sure, he was probably in his early thirties, but he had a lovely pair of brown eyes and black hair that was kept neat, and short. Perhaps she'd been too young to remember so much about his face. The barber went to the chair he'd just been using for his previous client, and he spun it around to face Julia. 

"Care to have a seat," he offered. Julia stared at the open chair, before she silently rose up. Butterflies fluttered within her stomach. Her shoes clacked quiet on the tile of the barbershop, before she slowly sat down on the warm, red leather chair. 

"So, what brings a pretty young woman like yourself into my shop?" the barber asked. Julia looked up at him, as he eyed her. 

"I... Um..." she stammered. I want you to buzz off all my hair, to the skin, then shave my head till it's silky smooth, just like how I remember it feeling. He'd think she was crazy! No way she could blurt those words out. Besides, she was here for a job! ... Yes, a job. "The sign... In the window," she began. 

"Oh, the Help Wanted sign?" he asked. Julia nodded. The barber's gaze seemed to soften, as he folded his arms over his chest. "I'm surprised you'd want to work here. Shouldn't you be helping to stock shoes? ... Or at least working in a lady's salon?" he asked. Julia shook her head. "This place is pretty close to my house. It seems like a good fit to me," she insisted. No, not really. It was quite a drive. And considering just the smell of the shop had her legs quivering, it probably was not a good fit. 

"Hm," the barber eyed her again, and looked her up and down. With that, he extended his hand for her to shake. "My name is Andrew Barnes," he introduced himself. Julia looked to his hand, then slowly lifted one of her own. She shook his hand, as a shy smile finally worked over her lips. 

"Julia Wells," she responded politely. Their hands separated. Her palm felt warm from his grip. She quickly slid it back into her lap to join her first. Andrew spared her a smile, then motioned around the shop.

"If you want the job, I ask you be here every day, starting at 9 a.m. You'll be in charge of keeping my floors clean and swept. The waiting area should be tidy, with no magazines out of place. The towels I use need to be laundered on a daily basis, if not multiple times a day. My tools also sometimes need cleaning," he listed off her responsibilities. "Think you can handle all that? I close up shop at five." 

"Yes, it should be no trouble!" Julia insisted. Andrew smiled at her surprising enthusiasm. "Well, consider yourself hired," he chuckled. He left her in the chair, as he went to the register and began pawing through a few binders he kept beneath the desk. There was some necessary paper work involved, after all. 

Julia felt a spark of excitement hit her. She'd get to work here. She'd be paid for being here and for feeding her little obsession of watching men get their heads sheared incredibly short, all while imagining it was herself. She rose up and joined Andrew at the front desk. He handed her the papers.

"I look forward to working with you Julia," he began. "I guess I should have figured you were enquiring about the Wanted sign. Hair like yours is only taken care of in the trendiest salons, I bet," he mused. Julia took the papers in hand, then glanced back up to the barber. She brushed a lock out of her face and behind one of her small ears. 

"Right..." she agreed, as she tried to laugh it off. Oh, how weird he'd think she was, if she had told him how she really felt about her hair and about his shop. He gave her a smile. 

"Bring those back tomorrow, and we can put you to work," he informed. "Yessir!" Julia informed. With that, she hurried out. She hugged the papers to her chest, as she spared a glance over her shoulder at the shop. 

She never thought she'd be so excited about working a job during the summer. Julia found herself thoroughly enjoying her work. Andrew was pleasant with her, funny and playful even. He was a great guy, and a joy to work with and be around. Her father told her she was lucky to have such a nice boss for her first job. She drove to the shop each morning, and would tend to sweeping up cut hair, tidying the shop, and helping to clean up at closing. All the while, she was able to steal glances of Andrew at work. Once she got home each evening, she'd have to excuse herself upstairs, for she'd typically be dripping down her thighs from the pleasant buzzing that would form in her loins at the sheer hair overload. And at night, she'd fantasize about sitting herself down in Andrew's chair, and requesting he clip off each curl one by one before shaving her bald. 

The summer went on, and only seemed to get hotter as the months went by. One early July day, the air conditioner at the shop decided to die. It left the barber and his assistant to deal with the heat. Andrew seemed to take it well, but Julia had to put her long hair up to get it off her neck. The long curls constantly fell out of the clip and drove her crazy when they'd stick to her damp neck. 

"When did the repair guy say he was coming?" Julia groaned as she tried to ignore the heat as she swept. Andrew, who was in the midst of his lunch break, watched the overheated young woman with a bemused smile. "Not till this Friday, I'm afraid," he admitted. Julia groaned again, as she finished depositing the newest clippings from Andrew's last client into a bin at the back of the shop. 

"Bet it's times like this you wish you had your hair a bit shorter, huh?" Andrew chuckled. Julia sighed as she sunk down into the barber chair next to Andrew's. "You have no idea," she sighed without thinking. Andrew's eyes flared at her statement, and Julia's stomach tightened. "Too bad I'd look awful with short hair," she laughed off her prior statement as best she could. Andrew didn't laugh, though he smiled a bit. 

"You have the features to pull off just about any hairstyle. I'm a barber, I'd know, right?" he mused. Julia's face warmed. It was about the closest thing he could get to a compliment regarding her appearance that an employer could, after all. "Thanks," she managed. 

Julia pushed through the rest of the week. She took showers every night she came home to deal with the sweat and heat of the day working at Andrew's shop. Friday came after what felt like forever. Though, much to her chagrin, the repair man couldn't make it to their shop that day. He'd have to come sometime the next week. Needless to say, Julia was exasperated. At the end of the day, after the last customer had done, she sunk into one of the barber chairs without sinking and let out a tired sigh. 

"I don't think I can stand another day like this. It's too hot!" she sighed. Andrew flipped the sign at the front of his shop from open to closed, then glanced over at the young attractive woman sitting in his chair. He silently pulled the blinds and locked the door before he approached the counter where he kept all his tools. 

"It has been sweltering," Andrew agreed. He picked up his clippers, and popped off one of the attachments so he could clean the blade. Julia's eyes widened as he worked. Her whole body seemed to tighten, as he blew left over clippings from the blade, then turned it on and off a few times. The familiar buzz echoed through her ears, much closer now thanks to her sitting in the chair. She let out a  breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when he put them back on their hook. He was just cleaning them, after all. 

Before she realized it, a cape was being thrown over her. She stared as the dark black nylon spilled over her body. "W-what...?" she began. Andrew handed her a wash cloth. "It's easier to clean the cape when it's spread," he informed as he handed her a cleaning rag. Julia took it, with surprise in her eyes. She'd not exactly cleaned a cape this way, but she didn't refuse. As she began to work, Andrew silently tore a neckstrip from the dispenser and he wrapped it around her slender neck, which was exposed thanks to her hair being pinned up. Julia stilled as he then fastened the cape around her neck. Just what was Andrew doing? 

"You've been doing a great job here, Julia. A real help to me," he informed. His voice was low, as he was in fact speaking right into one of her ears. "You've matured into quite a sweet young woman," he added, quietly. Julia's eyes shot open wide, and she dropped the rag she'd been holding onto to clean the cape. Did Andrew actually remember her? 

Andrew reached up and unpinned Julia's hair. The long golden curls spilled down her back, the tips even going past the seat of the chair. Julia stared at her reflection in the mirror. Andrew was spreading out her curls, as he let them flow over her shoulders. They contrasted so nicely with the black cape. "I never did understand why a mother would sentence her little girl to be sheared and shaved like yours did to you. But if I didn't know any better, I think you ended up enjoying having your hair severed from your head," Andrew murmured softly in her ear. Julia's wide eyes softened and about rolled into the back of her head a little quiver ran through her body. She sunk her pearly teeth into her plush lower lip as she ended up squirming beneath the cape. Andrew was totally onto her. And at this point, she wasn't so sure she could stop him, even if she wanted him to. Which, really... she did not. 



Andrew smiled at her knowingly in the mirror's reflection. He said nothing more, as he went back to the counter. Julia watched him as her hands gripped to the arm rests, much as she had as a child the first time she'd been put in one of the barber chairs. Andrew plucked the Oster clippers from the hook, the pair he'd been cleaning just earlier. No attachments were added, as he adjusted the bare blade in a matter of seconds. Julia's heart jumped up into her throat. She'd been watching closely enough those past few weeks to know that setting was the shortest. A #00000. It could cut hair to 1/125th of an inch. To the skin essentially. She'd seen him use the bare clippers on a few clients who preferred to be bald. Those were some of her favorite cuts she liked to watch. Andrew turned on the clippers with a loud pop, followed by the loud buzzing hum that Julia had come to love. 

His hand soon came to cup underneath her chin. And the buzzing blades were soon hovering at the center of her forehead. Julia's breathing was uneven, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was this really happening? She wasn't just dreaming? Andrew leaned down, near her ear. "All off?" he dared to ask, as he gave her one chance to back out. Julia, though, was way past gone. She could only nod faintly. With that, Andrew pressed the buzzing blades against the skin of her forehead, and he slowly began to draw them up over her crown. The buzzing changed it's pitch the moment the blades made contact with her thick head of hair. He kept a firm grip under her chin, as he drew the clippers all the way back along the top of her head. A multitude of golden curls spilled down to pool in her lap. He lifted the blades after his first pass, and Julia gazed at her reflection. Memories from childhood immediately resurfaced. Though she'd been a weepy eyed little girl when she'd first seen herself like this. Lovely curls were still intact everywhere, except the center of her head, where only the barest of blond stubble remained amongst her pale skull.

A low moan erupted from Julia as her eyes rolled closed and an immediate wave of arousal hit her full force. Andrew smiled at the sound that echoed from his little assistant. He brought the blades back to her forehead, to the right of the shaved strip. When Julia's eyes opened again, he plunged the clippers back into her hair and drew them across for a second pass. Julia gasped out, as her slender body arched beneath the cape. Bouts of bliss rolled deep within her, to pool in her loins. Andrew had barely begun shaving her, and already she was incredibly wet with arousal. 

More of her long golden hair slithered down the front of the cape. A few pieces rolled further, to land on the tile floor that Julia swept every day. Andrew lifted the clippers once more, and he put them to the left of the large swatch he'd cleared over the top of her head. Slowly, he drew the Oster's back over her scalp. Julia's eyes were barely open, as Andrew tipped her head back with his hand. She gazed up at him, and he smiled down at her. Her face was quite adorable and pink from embarrassment. The top of her head was soon clear of hair. With that, he forcibly tipped her head to the left. 

The loud clippers rose in front of her ear, and touched down on her cheek. He pushed them up, up, up. Her sideburn trickled into her lap lifelessly. Golden curls around her little pink ear were cleared away. He folded the little shell of her ear down, to finish shearing away all the hairs around it. Nothing but short stubble was left, with pale skin beneath. Julia's eyes had begun to glaze over from the pleasurable sensations that were radiating over her body. She gazed at herself in the mirror, with the bare top of her head, and one ear blithely exposed. The other side of her head was still covered in long blond curls. Though it wouldn't be for long. 

Andrew continued moving the blade along the right side of her head. He'd start at the bottom and buzz them up toward the bare top of her head. More blond curls fell down like rain. Many curls spilled to the floor, and a lot piled up in her lap. The right side of her head was entirely bare down. So, Andrew drew her head to the right, by pressing his warm palm on the bare side of her head. Julia quivered from the intense sensation of Andrew's hand against her sensitive scalp. She recalled the days right after her shearing as a little girl, how she'd rub her hands over her head. At the time, she didn't know why it made her squirm and feel so good. But now, she'd come to realize she'd been giving herself orgasms by rubbing her bald head with her hands. She looked forward to doing that once this was all through.  

Like on the other side, he brought the clippers to her cheek and drew them up. He buzzed her sideburn clear off, then began shaving around her folded ear once more. The buzzing was so loud when it was right near her ear. Over and over, he drew the Osters along the left side of her head. Each pass caused another downpour of gold to fall along her shoulder and join other curls along the floor. She had quite a mountain in her lap by this time. And she still had all the hair on the back of her head. Both of her ears were now fully exposed, and the sides of her head were as short as the top. Andrew smiled at the dazed reflection of Julia in the mirror. 

"I always thought those ears of yours were adorable," he hummed thoughtfully. Julia flushed profusely, the blush even going right up to her bare ears. Judging by her reflection, she had a good idea of how she'd look like once she left the shop that afternoon. Her perfectly round head seemed so small compared to when it had hair upon it. Her ears were sweet and round. And her eyes looked beautiful and bigger than before. She didn't get to gaze at her reflection much longer, for Andrew rested his hand on top of her head and pushed her chin down into her chest. 

Julia stared down at the large pile of golden locks in her lap. It was so much hair. All gone. Years of growth, gone in seconds. But it felt so good. She let out another low moan as she realized just how hairless she was going to be once Andrew was done. It had been years, after all, since her last shaving. 

Andrew went about parting the long hair along the back of her head and neck. With his hand still on her head to keep it in place, he nuzzled the clippers into the bottom of her neck. The blades were running warm now, after buzzing the rest of her head down to the skin. He smiled to himself, as he began to slowly push the humming clippers up Julia's nape. An immediate gasp echoed from her lips, as her flesh prickled with sensitivity. The smile on Andrew's lips widened, as his memories regarding Julia's most sensitive spot on her head remained quite precise. Her neck had gotten the strongest response. He took his time with that first pass up the back. Up her neck and nape and finally to the top of her head. He watched the long shower of gold spill down the back of the chair. 

Julia was quivering in the chair, as he brought the clippers back down to the bottom of her neck and began on a second pass. Her lips fell open, as the tingling between her legs intensified. Her thighs clenched, as one of her hands slid down between her legs beneath the cape. 

Andrew drew out the last few passes of the clippers, as he pressed the blades firmly into Julia's skin. The last long locks were soon sheared away, and Julia was nearly bald. He tipped her head this way and that, as he went about cleaning up any strays that he missed. With that, he turned the clippers off with another loud pop, then tipped her head back toward him again, as he saw her blushing face, and furrowed brows. She was panting profusely. Andrew couldn't help but eye the suspicious movement beneath the cape over her lap. He ran a hand along her head, as the faint bristle of stubble rasped against his palm. 

"It's not perfect yet, is it?" he whispered to her. Julia shook her head. "You need a smooth shave, don't you?" Andrew purred in her ear. Julia felt herself nearly climax with his words. "Yes!" she pleaded. Andrew rushed into action as soon as she gave him the go ahead. A warm towel was wrapped around her head. The familiar damp, warm heat brought back more memories for Julia. Andrew quickly whisked the towel away and soon went about applying a thick layer of shaving cream all over her bare head with a brush. After a few strops of the straight razor, he gently took her head in his hand, and positioned the blade at her cheek. He drew it up and it rasped against the skin in a way that sent chills of pleasure down Julia's flesh. He shaved delicately around her right ear, as the foam was removed by the blade. Only hairless, pale flesh was left in it's wake. Strokes around her ears extended to the side of her head. Long slow, leisurely strokes were taken, from in front of her ear to the top of her head. Her other side and ear were shaved smooth in a similar slow fashion. 

It wasn't long till the straight razor was lifted to the front of her forehead. He drew it back along her head, in long careful strokes. He'd wipe the foam off the blade every couple of passes. The last bits of stubble of her former crowning glory went with the foam. The top of her head was soon rendered bare. All that left was her nape. Andrew pushed her chin back into her chest. Julia's uneven breaths were so prominent and needy. Andrew found he enjoyed the sound. 

The razor was placed at the back of her crown, and drawn down the length of her neck. Julia moaned out loudly with each long swipe of the blade. Her hand was working overtime between her thighs. She tried not to think about what kind of mess she'd made of her jeans. 

Andrew cleaned the last bit of foam from her head. Julia quivered, as her hand kept working. Her eyes opened barely to gaze at her reflection. And, just as he'd done for her as a child, Andrew went about lathering her head once more. A gasp left Julia's pretty lips when she knew what was coming. Her eyes closed then, as she prepared to relish the second shaving she was about to have. Andrew was so thorough. He'd make sure she didn't have any sign of hair on her head by the time he was done. And that knowledge caused her loins to throb hotly. 

Andrew worked faster the second time around, though no less careful. Each flick of the razor seemed to illicit a moan from Julia. Her sounds grew louder and louder. After he'd cleared away all the lather, Andrew went about wiping down her head with a towel. Some talc was administered to her bare head. And then, his palms came to rest on her bald scalp. He stroked along her crown and up and down her smooth sexy nape. With those touches to her sensitive head, Julia let out a loud cry. She climaxed right there in the chair, as Andrew stroked her bare head and teased her exposed ears. Her hips writhed beneath the cape as she rode out what had to be the best orgasm of her life. 

Beyond embarrassed to have lost herself so badly in his presence, Julia bit her lip shamefully when her eyes finally opened. "I..." she tried to begin, but her voice was airy and unable to form complete words. Andrew said nothing, though he smiled reassuringly down at her. He leaned down then, as his mouth dared to brush lightly against her own. Surprised at the kiss, Julia's eyes fluttered closed. 

"You're welcome in my chair any time," he murmured against her mouth. Julia's eyes opened again, to meet his. She gave a shy little nod. "... I think I will definitely be getting in it quite often," she whispered. Their lips pressed together once more, as Julia's arms lifted from behind the cape and lifted up to wrap around his neck. 

When she got home that evening, her father was appalled at what she had done to her hair. But after a lot of reassuring that she'd done it of her own free will, her father calmed down. She was even kind enough to bring him a few of the better intact curls from her shearing, for him to keep. Although he didn't seem to fully understand her reasoning, he didn't forbid her from returning to the barbershop. She was nearly an adult, after all. And it was her head and her hair to do with as she pleased. 

The rest of the summer went by like a breeze. Julia was never too hot thanks to her shaved head. And whenever her hair got too long (and by long, more than a few centimeters!), she would hop back into Andrew's chair at the end of the day and let him shave her clean once more. Her friends all thought she was mad for shaving her head, but she also eventually got used to the look on her. She was still the same old Julia, after all. Just with a lot less hair. 

Her budding attraction for Andrew remained a little secret between the two of them. After all, she was barely eighteen, and he was already in his thirties. The summer came to an end, and Julia had to take a hiatus from her job, much to her chagrin. Andrew also talked her into growing her hair out a little longer for the winter. By the time the following summer rolled around, her hair had grown out past her ears. Though on the first day of summer vacation, she waltzed right into his shop, sat down, and had him shave her bald once more. By the time she got to college, she found herself missing Andrew terribly, but she got to see him every summer when she came home from school. And of course, every summer, she sported her favorite bald hairstyle. After graduation, she grew her hair long enough for her wedding day, married Andrew, and moved in with him. And, quite frankly, never had hair on her head again. They spent their first night together shaving off every last hair on her head, then making love in ways they'd been dying to for years. Each morning and evening, Andrew would shave her head for her, leaving her smooth nearly 24/7. More love making typically followed whenever Andrew shaved her down. She couldn't help it, this was what did it for her. And Andrew seemed more than happy to comply. Julia never would have guessed the vile actions of her mother would affect her life like this. But she'd never been happier. 

---

---

---

Mrs. William's Appointment

The �Appointment"
Mrs. Williams smiled, pleased that she could get in for a trim at her usual salon.  She had to make the appointment with the new young owner, Tina, but she wanted the trim and was glad to get a slot before closing. The WMU (Women�s Missionary Union) of the Sraussville United  Methodist Church was holding their annual children�s fund bazaar and sale tomorrow and she wanted to look great. As president of the WMU she had a responsibility to look her best at these events. In her 43^rd year, Mrs. Williams was a slim (she thought) woman with good taste (she thought) in clothes. She wanted her hair freshly trimmed for the event.

---

Tina checked the clock again. Yes, it was 5:40 and Mrs. Williams was ten minutes late. Ordinarily that would be no trouble, but tonight her young son�s birthday celebration was going to be underway at 6:30 and she wanted to close the salon and be home. And just then, the little chime rang and Mrs. Williams hustled into the shop-ten minutes late and not a word of apology. She was wearing her characteristically boring clothes-khaki skirt, white boat-neck tee and Dockers shoes. Tina thought how great she would look in a nice super short blonde style, with a red mini and a black bustier. That was not going to happen any time soon.  This was not a good start, but at least a trim wouldn�t take too long.
�Well, good to see you Mrs. Williams. Glad to have you in the shop. Now, you wanted a trim, right?" Mrs. Williams gave a nod and strode confidently over to the chairs lined by the mirrors.
�Sit here, by my station. And we�ll get started." Mrs. William�s hair was three and a half to four inches all over without much shape or taper. In fact it was not so much of a style as a convenient length for Mrs. Williams. Tina had styled her hair a number of times, and had often suggested cuts and styles that would have improved her looks, but had always been rejected. Mrs. Williams stated that she knew her hair best.

---

Mrs. Williams expected a shampoo and a conditioning, but instead, Tina sprayed her hair from the pink bottle and started to cut without the shampoo. Mrs. Williams felt her comb the style, and start the cut. Soon small pieces of damp hair began to litter the black and pink cape, and the black and white floor tiles.
She noticed that Tina kept glancing at the clock-probably going out drinking with her girlfriends. Rumor among the women at church was the Tina had a lot of girlfriends, good friends, in fact too good. Rumor was that she was in love with some of her girl friends.  Mrs. Williams thought that she probably should go to another salon that wasn�t owned by a gay, but she had been coming here for several years and liked most of the stylists, even if Tina wasn�t her favorite person in the world. Beside a hair cut was not a moral choice and she didn�t really care who Tina took to bed with her.
Tina picked up her blow-dryer and started to dry her hair against the brush, slowly driving the dampness out of the hair and giving it a bit of body and style. In fifteen minutes she had cut, dried and styled her hair. Wow-that was quick, she thought.
Tina rotated her chair, and Mrs. Williams stood up slowly, running her fingers thought her warm hair strands and looking first at the sides and front and then the back with the mirror that Tina was holding up.
�Wait a minute, did you cut anything off?" she asked Tina testily.
�Of course, I did. Look at the chair and the cape." Tina answered.
�Well, it doesn�t look cut at all to me. I mean it was this long when I walked in."
�But," Tina stated flatly, not wanting to have a long argument, �I did cut it. That will be $24 like usual."
�$24!! You can�t be serious. You didn�t shampoo, condition and I don�t think you cut enough off to charge me $24! I won�t pay. I demand a real haircut."
Tina looked like she was chewing gum. (She was really chewing the inside of her cheek to try to keep her hot temper)
�All right, let me make a phone call, and I�ll give you a shampoo, cut, condition and styling. Do you have an hour?"
�Of course I do, child," Mrs. Williams snapped, �I planned on a regular haircut, so I made the time."
Tina was gone to the front desk for a few minutes to make a phone call and to close the shop, lock the door and turn off the waiting room lights.
When she returned she was humming a quiet tune and seemed to be in a better mood, at least in a mood to actually take care of the customer�s needs. (At least that�s what Mrs. Williams assumed.)

---

�Yes, dear," Tina said, sort of breathlessly, �I�ll do exactly what you have asked.  A shampoo, a much better trim and cut, then a special conditioner to finish you off, a rinse and a blow-dry and styling. I�m so sorry about the miss-understanding."
�I certainly will make things right this time," Tina thought grimly, but with a sense of humor.
She led Mrs. Williams to the sinks for the wash, using her best shampoo. Then gently patting her hair damp dry with a towel that she wrapped around her head, Tina helped her to sit up from the sink. After combing Mrs. Williams out, she then took her back to her cutting station. The black and pink patterned cape went around her neck, but this time, Tina took special care to be sure it was tight around her neck.
Then as she usually did, she turned the customer away from the mirror and began the cut. She started in the back this time. As she combed through for the guideline, she smiled grimly and set her fingers right against Mrs. William�s neck, so when she cut, a full three inches came away. She worked quickly across the neck and up the back of her head. Next she moved to the right ear and cut quickly around the ear. It was at this point that Mrs. Williams must have sensed something was up. She seemed to shift her hair away from Tina�s fingers and scissors.
�Are you a bit uncomfortable?" she asked?
�No, no, I�m fine" was the reply. After having asked for a cut, Tina chuckled inwardly, she couldn�t very well complain about having a cut now, could she? And this was her chance to give the woman the cut and style she had always wanted to give.
So she carefully trimmed the right side, then did the left and connected the two sides with the back. Using her thinning shears she clipped the back and lightened the short hair on the back and around to the sides. She sensed that Mrs. Williams knew the game was up, so she started to chat with her to distract her a bit. They talked about the upcoming church event and how all the women of the district would be there.  It would be just the place to show off the new trimmed style, wouldn�t it? Oh yes it will be the talk of the town, thought Tina.
Now she was ready to start the crown and the top of the hair. Tina combed the long top section down over the sides and back. She thought that by now the die is cast and the jig is up, she might as well go in for a penny and in for a pound. She allowed three-fourth of an inch and started the cut at the crown, blended the back and crown together by point cutting. She worked her way toward the front, as she neared the bangs area she began to slice cut, allowing slightly longer pieces to blend in with the very short pieces.
Next came the bangs and now, Tina thought, it was time for the truth to hit Mrs. Williams right between the eyes. She turned her back to face the mirror. Before Mrs. Williams could fathom what had happened to her hair, she said briskly,
�Now we have to do something about these bangs. Do we want to keep them long? Or do we want a shorter asymmetrical look?  While Tina asked these questions, Mrs. Williams first starred wide eyed at her new short cut. Then she gasped, and then realized she couldn�t complain, and then she stammered,
�Well n�n�not t--too long. They might get in my eyes."
�Ok," Tina spoke up quickly, �we�ll make them short and asymmetrical�longer on the right than on the left. It�s a very in look right now."
She first used the scissors to cut a blunt right to left angled bang. Taking the razor she sliced them into individual lengths to lighten them. Now when she combed them across from the part, they laid back nicely and when they were combed down, they would dry with a slanted angle across Mrs. William�s 
forehead.  Nice!
�Next it�s time to finish the edges and get the perimeter cleaned up." Mrs. Williams looked questioningly at Tina. �Yes, when someone wants a style like this one, you need to use the clippers to get the taper correct at the hairline and clean up around the ears. It won�t take but a second and then we�ll get that special conditioning treatment underway. You did say you had the entire hour right?" Mrs. Williams would not let Tina know�but she was both so angry and so confused.

---

How could she feel this way? She hated short hair, yet she sort of liked the look she was getting. She hated Tina right now. Yet at the same time, she couldn�t let Tina know it. She couldn�t let Tina know how upset she was. She had to play the part. So she drew in a deep breath and watched carefully as Tina started to clean her black Oster clippers. They looked like the same clippers that George used on her Bobby and her boy, Rich. She looked for the first time at her new short hair. It was so short that her scalp could be seen glimmering through her hair. And more than just short, it was severely short. Tina had left her bangs combed back and it looked like a man�s cut or for heaven�s sake like the short cuts the church women had seen on some of Tina�s girlfriends. But it was too late now; she had let her temper control her mouth and now she had to live with it.
She was slapped into reality by the buzzing near her ear. Tina was using the naked blades of the clippers right in front of her ear, cutting slowly, carefully and closely around her ear. The vibration of the clippers and the feeling of Tina�s fingers as she bent her ear were totally new to Mrs. Williams. As Tina used the clippers to taper above the ear and around the back she used a black comb with short teeth. She flicked the clippers across the comb and she worked her way up the back of Mrs. Williams head. She felt the clippers slide down her neck, and realized with a start, that this was the same way that George, the barber, cut her husband and son�s hair. She shuddered involuntarily. Next was her left ear, just as short, just as severe.
�Now, Mrs. Williams, this is something I do for my special girlfriends when I cut their hair this short. I use the razor to shave around the edges of the hairline. It makes the cut spectacular." And without missing a beat, Mrs. Williams felt the soft shave cream and watched as Tina spread the cream around her right ear, around the back and them around the left ear.
Taking the straight razor, Tina said quietly, �Just relax and hold still, I�ve done this many, many times on my men�s barber cuts and on some of my girl friends. So, no worries now."  Mrs. Williams watched in horror as the razor sliced away the very shortest of the clipped hair into smooth skin. �You�ll get used to this, because you�ll need to come in for regular trims and as short as we went tonight, I�ll do this each time.
Losing her self-control, inwardly, Mrs. Williams did something that she never would have done out loud. She thought �Like Hell you will, your damn hands will never touch my hair again."  Then she did a mental gasp � oh now what will the church women think?  Luckily they couldn�t hear what she was thinking!

---

What Tina was thinking was entirely different. She exalted inside as she slid the razor gently down Mrs. Williams neck. And cleaned the razor off with the bar towel.  And did it again, moving the razor over the neck area and around her left ear. She sighed with the sheer pleasure of it. She imagined stroking the short clipped and shaved hair, kissing her lips softly and holding her closely. But there�s more work ahead and not enough time to think about that. So Tina whipped the last of the shaving cream off and said, in her business like voice,
�Now we�ll get that special conditioner mixed up for you."
She brought Mrs. Williams back to the shampoo stations and began to mix the �conditioner." Now truth be told, and truth should never be a victim, there was a conditioner in the mix, but there was also a fast acting, 30% bleach. And even if she had said 15 minutes, 20 minutes from the time the timer started to tick, Mrs. Williams would not only be the newest Straussville UMC church member with short hair, she would be the newest blonde at the church bazaar.
She used her gloved fingers to apply the bleach/conditioner to the short hair, because it was so short, she could massage the bleach mix into the hair easily without using a brush.  She covered Mrs. William�s hair with a plastic cap, and moved the heat lamp over her head. �The heat works to finish the conditioning. Now I�ll set the timer and we�ll let the conditioner work." The timer began to tick and the bleach began to work. Gently, gradually and permanently the bleach began to work, the conditioner kept her hair shafts smooth and the bleach drained the light brown out of her hair, until DING! Only the blonde was left.
Tina hurried over, turned off the heat lamps and moved them away. She laid Mrs. Williams back and began to rinse, slowly adding a small amount of shampoo and lathering the bleach and conditioner out of the hair and scalp. Sure enough, Mrs. Williams was now a blonde. After a bit of drying and a little bit of wax and the soft yellow blonde hair would look simply smashing!
Tina took a deep breath, now the moment of truth was here. She helped Mrs. Williams to sit up and began to comb through the short blonde hair. She parted it on the side and combed the wet hair back. Then she sat down next to Mrs. Williams, who looked surprised.
�Mrs. Williams, I have to make a confession to you. When I had to redo your hair, I had to miss my six year old son�s birthday. I�m not happy about what I�ve done to you. But I did it and now it�s done."
�What do you mean?"
�Just listen. You are now a blonde. I dyed your hair as well as conditioned it. You have a super short hair cut. All I have to do is to let it slip that I�ve taken a little shine to you and that you are my new special girl friend.  Now I won�t do that as long as you cooperate. This is how you will cooperate. You will tell me and all your friends in the church and the WMU that you love your new cut and color. You will tell them all about your super stylist, Tina. You will return in four weeks to get a trim and to color your roots. If you fail me, my friend Mrs. Williams, all of this town will know that you and I are gay girlfriends. Oh by the way, all the gossip is true, I am gay and I have a special friend who is gay as well."
�So what�s it going to be, girl friend?"
Mrs. Williams drew a deep breath. �Let�s see what I look like as a short haired blonde. I have a feeling that I�m going to love it. I mean, you recommended the cut and color, right?"
So Tina led her back to the styling chair and began to dry her hair slowly. As it dried, she dropped a few drops of a waxy hair dressing unto her palms, rubbed it in to warm it up and began to massage it into the hair. She spiked it up across the top of her head, then finger tipped the bangs, combing them across her forehead.  It really did look great! The soft blonde color glimmered in the lights of the beauty shop.
�Now that�s actually a $44 hairstyle, but we�ll call it even at $24," she whispered softly.  �Now are we going to be girlfriends, or am I going to be your super stylist and new hair colorist?"
Mrs. Williams swallowed and then said, �You are my super stylist and colorist. Just don�t tell anyone about us, I�ll be back in four weeks and I�ll stay blonde until you decide to change me again."

---

Mrs. Williams walked out of the salon, in a daze. She felt the back of her hair, and could not believe how short it was, how stiff it seemed to be. And when she saw her reflection in a store window, she was amazed to see a blonde looking back at her. She allowed a few tears to leak out of her eyes at the way she looked and she was sad, until she got home. Her husband�s surprise soon turned to affection in a way that she hadn�t experienced in a long time. She decided maybe this wasn�t such a bad cut after all.
Mrs. Williams did return in four weeks and eight weeks and for the rest of the fall and winter, she was a blonde with super short hair. Her enthusiasm for the cut soon led to several other women of the church to try Tina. And soon there was a super short lady with black hair, and next a red-head with clipped hair and finally two more blondes joined Mrs. Williams. Yes Mrs. William�s years of leadership in the Straussville UMC WMU really had an impact.

http://www.haircuttingstories.net/Story/StoriesByAuthor/55b83e91e8f05328db606d1e

hello

http://www.haircuttingstories.net/Story/StoriesByAuthor/55b83e91e8f05328db606ce2

http://www.haircuttingstories.net/Story/SingleStory/55b83eb6e8f05328db6078e7