A Barberette’s Victim (with pictures!)

Every day, John passed the corner barbershop on his way home from school, his heart skipping a beat when he caught a glimpse of her. Ava. She stood out, quite the scene in the small town barbershop. Her golden hair fell in effortless waves down her back, framing a face so striking it could have been pulled from a

 magazine. Today, she wore a fitted lacy corset top that accentuated her figure, leather leggings that clung to her long legs, and heels that clicked sharply against the tile whenever she moved. Gold teardrop earrings glinted in the afternoon light, and her burgundy nails—long and almond-shaped—rested lightly on the counter as she chatted with a customer.

Jon had always admired women like Ava from a distance—confident, commanding, impossibly attractive. She seemed completely out of his league, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He was certain she caught him staring sometimes, but she never let on, only flashing him a brief, knowing smile as he shuffled

 by, his face burning. At 17, Jon wasn’t particularly tall or muscular, but he had something he took pride in: his hair. Long, sun-kissed waves that brushed his shoulders, effortlessly tousled in a way that gave him a laid-back, surfer vibe. His friends said it suited him, and he couldn’t imagine cutting it short. It was his signature, his security blanket in a way, making him feel unique and just a little bit bold.

The barbershop itself was sleek and modern, its open glass window displaying the chair Ava seemed to dominate like a throne. Jon had passed it dozens of times, too intimidated to step inside. But today was different. Something about the way Ava glanced at him as he walked by—her piercing green eyes lingering for just a moment too long—made him stop in his tracks. His palms grew clammy as he turned back toward the door, swallowing hard. For reasons he couldn’t fully explain, he pushed it open, the little bell overhead jingling softly.

The bell above the door chimed as John entered, his palms already sweaty. The shop smelled faintly of aftershave and leather, and Ava’s presence filled the room. She was even more striking up close, her piercing green eyes locking onto him like she’d been expecting him.

“Well, well,” Ava said, a slow smile spread

ing across her face as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.  The motion emphasized her breasts, the delicate lace of her top dipping slightly. “Look who finally decided to come in. What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

“Uh, I… I was thinking I might get a haircut.” John fidgeted, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Ava’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as she sauntered over, her heels clicking. “Of course you do,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her burgundy nails flashing against his black t-shirt. “About time. Sit down, sugar. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

John hesitated but obeyed, lowering himself into the chair. Ava snapped a cape around his shoulders with a practiced flourish, her fingers brushing the back of his neck. His long, sun-kissed waves tumbled over the cape, and Ava ran her hands through them, assessing the length.

“This is quite the mane you’ve got,” she said, her tone teasing but sharp. “It’s a little… unruly, don’t you think? What were you thinking?”

John nodded quickly. “Umm, just a trim. Not too short, please.”

Ava leaned down, her red lips inches from his ear. “A trim?” she whispered mockingly. “Oh, honey, no. You don’t come to me for a little snip-snip. You’re walking out of here looking like a man, whether you like it or not.”

“No no, I like it long,” he tried, his voice trembling.

Ava placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to meet her gaze. Her touch was warm but firm, her eyes sharp and unrelenting. “What’s your name sweetie?” She purred. “John” he whimpered. “John,” she said sweetly, her smile disarming, “you came to me for a reason. Let me handle this. You’ll look like a whole new person when I’m done.”

He swallowed hard as Ava positioned herself behind him. “We’ll start slow,” she said with mock reassurance, snapping on a number 3 guard. The clippers roared to life, and John flinched as they touched his temple.

Before John could respond, the clippers roared to life. He jumped in the chair, his wide eyes fixed on Ava’s reflection. “Wait! No, I—”

“Relax, sugar,” Ava cut him off, gripping his shoulder firmly to keep him still. “I’m doing you a favor. Trust me, nobody’s gonna miss this mop once it’s gone”

Golden strands tumbled down, pooling in his lap as the buzzing filled the room. John squirmed, his hands clutching the armrests. “Ava, please, I don’t want it this short!”

Ava’s laughter was soft but cutting. “Oh, honey, I don’t think you understand. This hair has got to go. Trust me, I’ll make you look so much better.” She stepped back and tugged on his long hair. “I’ve seen you walking past my shop for weeks with this surfer-boy nonsense. Let me guess—you were too scared to come in because you knew I’d get rid of this mess.”

John whimpered as she continued to buzz the back of his head, the vibrations traveling down his spine. His long, golden locks disappeared with every pass of the clippers. “Please, Ava, this is too much!”

“Stop whining,” Ava snapped, rolling her eyes. She tilted his head forward with a firm hand. “I swear, you’re acting like I’m torturing you. It’s just hair, for fuck’s sake.”

Jon started tearing up as more locks of hair hit the floor. His heart was racing, his tears welling up. “Ava, STOP. This is too much off” he cried.

Ava straightened, smirking as she looked at his reflection. “Too much? Sweetheart, we’re barely getting started. If you keep squirming, I’ll shave it all off.” She removed the guard with a click, tossing it onto the counter.

John tried to get up, panic rising in his chest, but Ava was faster. She swung her leg over the chair, straddling his lap to pin him in place. Her weight settled on him, and she leaned forward, her lacy corset pressing against his chest, her cleavage nearly in his face. “You’re not going anywhere, babe,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “Now sit still. As your punishment for disobeying me. I’m shaving it all off.”

John froze, his cheeks burning as Ava resumed buzzing his hair, now with no guard. The clippers were relentless, shaving the sides of his head down to the skin. He bit his lip to keep from crying, his hands trembling beneath the cape, tears welling up on his eyes. When he had fantasized about Ava in the past, he’d never imagined this.

Ava leaned over, her perfume washing over him as she whispered, “Relax, sugar. You’re going to look so sharp. Trust me, I’ve thought about going short myself. Maybe something daring, like a flattop or a fade.” She flipped her golden waves over one shoulder, smirking as her reflection caught John’s wide-eyed panic. “Or maybe I’ll even shave my head. But for now, I think you’re the one who needs the change. You’ll look so hot when you’re bald.”

“B-bald?!” John stammered, his voice cracking.

“Oh, absolutely,” Ava purred, her nails tracing along his freshly shaved scalp. “You’ll look so clean, so sharp. Trust me, babe, you’ll thank me later.”

John whimpered, his body trembling beneath her as she adjusted the clippers for a closer shave. “No, Ava, please don’t—”

“Shut up,” she interrupted, her tone harsh. “You’re lucky I’m doing this for you. Now hold still before I nick your pretty little scalp.”

The clippers roared back to life, and Ava moved with purpose, shaving away every last trace of John’s golden waves. When she finished, she wiped his head with a warm towel, her touch slow and deliberate.

“There we go,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. She crossed her arms, the motion emphasizing her curves again, and tilted her head. “Bald and beautiful. Just how I like it.”

John stared at his reflection, his hands trembling as he reached up to touch his bare scalp. Tears welled in his eyes, but Ava only laughed, running her nails lightly over his skin.

“See?” she said, her smile smug. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

“Oh and before you go” Ava walked over to her drawer and pulled it open. Inside was a collection of photos and a Polaroid camera. She set the camera on the counter, hit the the self timer button, and walked back behind John. “Say cheese!” She smiled, as the camera flashed a picture.

She went back to the camera as it was printing the picture. She was jovial, a stark contrast to John, who wasn’t even smiling.

“Come on kid, you’ll get used to it” she laughed.

But John wasn’t sure he ever would.

+18