HairApparent
Prologue
I still recall the moment I met Cassie, the attractive woman with the long, wavy hair and a smile that melted the summer’s heat. Her blonde hair flowed loose past her waist, with just the front held back from her face with a clasp. Smartly dressed in a dark skirt and blazer with a crisp white blouse, she always exuded chic professionalism.
It had been a regular day at the café, a place that buzzed with the chatter of patrons and the rhythmic clinking of cups. I accepted that my bald head drew attention wherever I went. Mostly, people were casually accepting of my appearance while others showed greater interest. Unfortunately, there were those that failed to hide their dislike of my choice. However, my infectious personality and humour were sufficient to avoid any problems or unpleasantness.
My decision to be bald was predominantly a personal choice, influenced by style rather than practicality. But it did provide comfort in the sweltering weather and while working in the stuffy café. But when Cassie commented, something felt different.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ she enquired, her voice a melodic mix of curiosity and hesitance, ‘but do you shave your head every day?’
‘Most days,’ I replied excitedly, glancing at her warm brown eyes. ‘My hair was as long as yours once, but this feels so good in the hot weather when working here in the café.’ I ran a hand over my smooth scalp, feeling the warmth soak into my skin.
‘Can I, er … touch it?’ she nervously asked.
I grinned and nodded, kneeling beside her. When her fingers brushed against my scalp, I felt a thrill that echoed all the way through me. ‘Ooh, it feels so soft but so smooth too,’ she exclaimed boldly, letting out a giggle that transformed into a nervous titter. ‘Like glass. It must feel so much cooler than the “fur coat” stuck on my head.’
I chuckled at her poor attempt at humour, aware of how many women were intrigued by my shorn hair. It was a statement of my identity, more than just a fashion choice, yet here was Cassie, grappling with a sincere fascination. It was a captivated look that I had witnessed many times before.
‘While I do not charge extra for rubbing my head,’ I giggled, ‘I am afraid I do have other customers to deal with.’
Cassie grew flustered, blushing as she realised just how long she had lost herself in the action of caressing the bald head of a stranger, oblivious to the other café-goers watching. ‘Oops, sorry,’ she murmured, hastily finishing her coffee, paying me, and adding a generous tip, before rushing away as though the ground might swallow her whole.
With Cassie, I had felt optimistic, but I doubted I would ever see her again.
Proposition
Against all odds, Cassie returned to the café the very next day, although her demeanour had shifted. She ordered her coffee and tried her best to pretend nothing had occurred. However, for the first she had left her bland suit at home, replacing it with a delightful summer minidress with puffed sleeves and a plunging neckline. Unusually, she had loosely constrained her hair with the aid of a red hairband to keep her abundant locks from her eyes.
I imagined Cassie had taken the day off work, dressing for a casual day out. But she was keeping to her lunchtime routine, including her regular visit to my café, hopefully just to see me.
‘I am Amelia,’ I said boldly, giving Cassie my name for the first time. ‘Please feel free,’ I added cheekily, kneeling in front of her and pointing at my head. ‘Do you remember yesterday?’
‘Oh, er, sorry about yesterday, Amelia. I really do not know what I was thinking,’ she mumbled, blushing again. ‘Cassandra … well, Cassie …’
I found delight in teasing her. ‘I know exactly what you were thinking, Cassie,’ I shot back, a glimmer of playfulness igniting in my eyes. ‘You were pondering how freeing it would be to ditch that “fur coat” on your head and look like me.’
Her expression faltered. There was a barely discernible flicker of desire lurking within but. Nevertheless, it was undoubtedly there. Narrowed eyes, breath held, she shook her head, but not at all convincingly. Her wavy hair rippled over her shoulders and down her back as if it held secrets I yearned to unlock.
‘So,’ I said, emboldened, ‘I am getting mine re-shaved this evening by my favourite hairdresser. Would you like to join me?’
‘Um, well, yes!’ she immediately said, clearly enthralled by the idea of watching a hairdresser shaving my head. Then she thought better of it. ‘Er, what? No, not really,’ she stuttered, her cheeks tinged with crimson.
I cocked my head to one side, placed a finger on my chin, and coyly directed my best enquiring look at her. ‘Really?’ I whispered.
‘Well, yes, okay, Amelia,’ she eventually murmured, ‘but, obviously, just so I can watch.’
‘Of course, Cassie,’ I giggled. ‘Meet me here at 5pm.’
Visitation
I was pleasantly surprised to find Cassie standing outside the café at the appointed time that evening, the sunlight shining through the delicate pastel minidress. I did not ask what she had been doing for the few hours since lunchtime, but her stunning makeup was immaculate, and she had brushed her hair to a glistening shine.
Together, we silently walked through the maze of The Lanes, the cobblestoned streets leading us to The Lanes Barbershop. I noticed the flicker of astonishment and a measure of reluctance to move forward upon realising that my hairdresser was a barber. I felt a thrill as I led her inside, the small, quaint shop with its familiar musty aromas, offering a haven from the bustling streets outside.
‘Good evening.’ The deep and commanding voice of a tall burly man cut through the air as he greeted us. He stood to attention by the large red leather and chrome barber’s chair that I knew so well. With arms crossed over his broad chest, he exuded a customary air of authority.
‘Cassie, this is Thomas,’ I announced smugly, gesturing toward my barber. ‘Thomas, meet Cassie.’
Cassie nodded nervously, clearly intimidated by my barber’s presence. I observed her reviewing her options for escape as uncertainty danced in her expression and awkwardness showed in the way she stood. I sensed her trepidation and felt a pang of empathy.
Thomas marched over to the door, defiantly locking it behind us, his cold stare signifying that complaints were unwelcome.
I tried to forestall Cassie’s concerns. ‘I am always the last customer of the day and I do not want any interruptions when I am here.’ Her anxious expression demonstrated I had failed to alleviate her fear.
‘You, girl, you have a considerable quantity of hair,’ Thomas boomed, looming over her, make Cassie jump. He shook his head in disapproval as he ran his fingers through Cassie’s locks in a cursory fashion. ‘Far too much,’ he judged unequivocally, leaving no room for doubt. ‘With so much hair, we need to make a start on you immediately,’ he warned. ‘Sit!’
The barber’s words and demeanour had visibly shaken Cassie. ‘No … I mean, er … not me … I have just come to observe Amelia,’ she stuttered. Standing next to her, I placed a comforting arm loosely around her shoulders, caressing the wonderful softness of her blonde wavy hair.
Thomas assessed Cassie with his dark piercing eyes as if she was an exhibit. Cassie would need to learn that she must not trifle with his authoritative presence.
Thomas ignored Cassie’s words. ‘No need to be shy with me, girl,’ he said creepily, a note of menace colouring his voice. ‘So, get in the chair, and I will have you looking cool and shiny, just like Amelia, in no time at all.’
Persuasion
My heart raced. I knew the game I was playing, and Cassie’s hesitation offered a perfect invitation for what was to follow. With a gentle nudge from my embracing arm, I gently ushered her toward the chair. ‘Come on, Cassie. It will be for the best … for me … well, for you too … and you know you want to.’
It felt as though time slowed as she tried to hold back, teetering on her heels. ‘But I thought … you …’ she pleaded, pointing at me and then the chair, with a desperate searching look.
Switching her gaze, Cassie alternated between the barber and me, but we remained silent. Slowly but surely, we were eroding any remaining hope for simply spectating, and it showed her forlorn expression.
Eventually, with my gentle but insistent urging, Cassie found herself hovering over the seat. Momentarily pausing, she stumbled backwards, and fell into the welcoming embrace of the barber’s chair.
My heart hammered against my ribs, excitement mingling with a hint of nerves.
The air in The Lanes Barbershop hung thick with an almost palpable tension. Cassie slumped in the chair, her hands fidgeting in her lap, as Thomas’s imposing figure loomed over her. I could see her reflection in the large wall-mounted mirror, and the mixture of fear and excitement danced across her features. It was the same response I had seen countless times before, but today felt different.
Cassie’s delicate summer dress riding up on her thighs, along with its plunging neckline and sweet puffed sleeves, contributed to her vulnerability in the large chair. Her wavy blonde hair sprawling over the armrests and down the back of the chair enhanced the vision.
Thomas excitedly pumped up the chair to a convenient height. It also functioned as a symbolic gesture to warn Cassie against any thought of escape. The atmosphere in the shop had become electric.
Thomas plucked Cassie’s red velvet headband from her locks using two fingers. ‘Very pretty,’ he smirked, before carelessly tossing it in a rubbish bin under the counter. Roaring with laughter, he added, ‘but you will not be needing that again once I have finished with you.’
Implementation
‘Are you ready, Cassie?’ I asked, adopting a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her anxiety. I had seen the way she brushed her long hair behind her ear, the way her eyes darted around as if searching for an escape. But there was also something else. It was that flicker of curiosity that I knew so well, and one that bordered desire.
‘I … I, er, don’t know,’ she stammered, glancing at me with uncertainty. The way her brow furrowed made my heart ache for her. She was about to leap into the unknown, and I wanted nothing more than to guide her through it.
Thomas hovered over her like a hawk, eager to pounce. ‘It is just hair, sweetheart. You have no idea how liberating this can be. You will feel lighter, fresher, more alive.’ His voice was firm, and although his intention was to encourage her, his words carried an underlying sinister undertone that made Cassie’s eyes widen in apprehension.
Thomas’s steely gaze met mine as he reached out for his hair clippers. I smiled conspiratorially, but his cold expression did not change. As always, I knew it had not really been in Cassie’s best interests to bring her to The Lanes Barbershop. But that gaze from the barber served to remind me that her presence was important for him … as well as it being essential for my wellbeing.
‘Well, are you ready?’ I demanded once again, adding an element of impatience to my voice, attempting to cut through her uncertainty.
She met my gaze, hesitating just a moment longer before a spark of resolve flickered within her. ‘I think so, Amelia … well, I guess …’
‘Trust me, Cassie,’ I pressed. ‘It will be freeing, especially in this heat. You will realise that you did not really need all that hair at all.’ I stepped closer, putting my hand on her shoulder, a gesture of solidarity, feeling her marvellous soft hair for the final time. Breathing in her ears, I added, ‘Have faith.’
Her eyes searched mine, and I locked onto them, projecting a sense of calm. In that moment, the world outside faded away and it was just us three, caught in an intimate moment that held the potential to alter lives.
Taking a deep breath, she finally murmured, ‘Okay. Let’s do this.’ I could see her resolve solidifying, though her face remained a canvas of nervous energy.
‘Good choice,’ Thomas replied, a sly smile curling on his lips. He flicked the switch on the clippers, sending a low buzz reverberating through the shop, and Cassie’s eyes flared with a combination of fear and excitement.
Thomas placed the shining blade of the clippers against the hairline at Cassie’s forehead. The insistent buzz transformed to a laboured roar in the silence of the barbershop as the blade inched forward into Cassie’s golden locks. I could hardly comprehend the beauty of the metamorphosis unfolding before me. The first locks of golden hair fell away, cascading to the floor like summer leaves, and with it, I saw Cassie shifting in the chair, quietly whimpering.
The first swipe of the clippers cut through her hair like a knife, and long waves tumbled to the floor. Cassie gasped, her hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly. I could see her reflection with the shock on her face transforming into an odd blend of disbelief and awe.
‘There you go!’ I encouraged, my excitement bubbling to the surface. ‘Look at how light you are already feeling!’
With each pass, more locks fell, the sound morphing into a rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart. Cassie’s breath quickened, and she began to relax into the experience, her earlier trepidation yielding to intrigue as her transformation unfolded before our eyes.
‘You are so beautiful,’ I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. She glanced up at me, surprise mingled with vulnerability, and I could see something in her eyes – the golden thread of self-discovery – that sent sparks of elation coursing through my chest.
Then the fear began to lift, lightened by the thrill of liberation. I could see it in her eyes, how they sparkled with excitement and wonder. She was becoming another version of herself; one that was beautiful, bold, and unafraid.
I could feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, reminiscent of the first time I had sat in this very chair with my hair long and flowing, insecurities swirling around my head like a storm. I had felt exposed then, just as Cassie did now, but oh, the exhilaration that followed with the physical and emotional weight lifted from my shoulders.
Origination
I had experienced that same moment as Cassie three years earlier when I had asked Thomas to make me bald. At the time I had straight black hair that shimmered past my waist. It was a strange request to make of one’s father, even if he was a barber. Until that time, he had meticulously trimmed my long hair every few months, maintaining its excellent condition and appearance.
Spending time around the shop throughout my youth, I had seen him buzz many men and boys. I had been intrigued but never touched emotionally. It was the same for my dad, and not even worthy of comment when I was sweeping the hair from the floor after they left. However, one day an attractive woman with long hair waltzed in and demanded that Dad shave her bald. Despite showing initial reluctance, he tackled the task with enthusiasm, and she left the shop with a head as smooth as any bald man. I stared and I was unable to speak throughout the process.
As she left, I opened the door for her. ‘You, er, look beautiful,’ I stammered quietly, looking up at her.
She held my gaze and knelt. Taking my hand in hers, she placed it on her head. ‘It feels good too,’ she giggled, before disappearing.
Over the months that followed, my emotions rampaged back and forth as I frequently recalled the incident in the solitude of my bedroom. Some days I was upset by the thoughts, whereas other days the memory of the bald woman turned me on.
Eventually, I realised that I had only one choice. Rather than just a trim when it was time for my next haircut, I asked my dad to shave me completely bald. We had never spoken of the past incident with the woman, and he never discussed my decision on this occasion or tried to change my mind. Trusting my judgement, my father retrieved his hairclippers and shaved off all my hair without hesitation.
As I had hoped, I looked as stunning as the bald woman I had witnessed in the past. It was only the second time Dad had shaved a woman’s head, and he made no secret of the fact that he would love to do it more often. He had also accepted that my friends or any other women that saw me would not be queuing up for the same treatment.
On my side, I was excited by the action of him shaving my head for the first time. The dramatic change of losing all my long hair had been intoxicating. Each time he shaved me subsequently was an enjoyable experience, but my emotions never reached those same dizzy heights again. Familiarity had blunted my passion, and I needed to do something to achieve a greater release.
As time went on, I realised that there were some women who commented on my bald head that would share my excitement. Women who I would enjoying tempting and cajoling to follow my example, allowing me to enjoy watching my dad shave off their hair. And, equally importantly, satisfy my dad’s heartfelt desires to introduce another long-haired woman to the joyful wonders of baldness.
For these reasons, Cassie, like many before her, had the pleasure of finding herself in my father’s barber’s chair that evening.
Transformation
My father, Thomas, moved with forceful precision, guiding Cassie through her transformation. As pieces of her old self fell away, I leaned closer, whispering, ‘You will never look back, Cassie. It is freedom.’
With every stroke of the clippers, I could tell Cassie was embracing this new chapter. When Thomas finally stepped back to reveal her radically transformed appearance, she spun around in the seat, a radiant grin lighting her features. The once thick waves of her hair were gone, and there she sat, exquisite in her baldness.
The last remnants of Cassie’s hair lay scattered around her. In the mirror, she barely recognised herself. Her delicate features seemed more pronounced now, her skin glowing against the backdrop of her newly exposed scalp.
‘I did it!’ she exclaimed, chuckling contagiously.
‘You did,’ I replied breathlessly, my heart swelling with awe. There was an electrifying connection pulsating between us.
‘Thank you, Cassie, I found that, er …’ she paused, giggling, trying to find the right words, ‘er, refreshing.’
‘Well, what do you think, girl?’ Thomas barked, breaking the mood, as he stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Cassie blinked several times, her mouth opening and closing in astonishment. ‘I, er … I love it.’ The words escaped her, laced with genuine astonishment and an undercurrent of empowerment.
‘Of course you love it, girl,’ Thomas smirked knowingly, ‘and do not forget to tell all your friends where you had it done.’
When Cassie turned back to face me, her eyes were bright, her smile radiating an unexpected warmth.
‘You were right, Amelia,’ she beamed, her voice trembling slightly in disbelief. ‘It feels amazing!’
‘Can I leave you to finish her off, Amelia?’ my father asked pointedly, a smile playing on his lips.
‘Yes, Dad, and I will lock up afterwards,’ I responded. ‘Love to Mum and see you both at the weekend.’
Cassie head span around and faced me, astonished. ‘That’s your dad?’
Completion
‘Yes, Cassie, you were clippered bald by my dad,’ I confirmed sheepishly, enthusiastically shaking a can of shaving foam. ‘And now it is my responsibility to finish you off.’
‘Finish me off?’ Cassie enquired as I squirted a generous dollop of white foam into my palm and liberally coated Cassie’s head. ‘Oh my!’ she murmured as I slowly massaged the smooth cream into her scalp, her voice transforming into several appreciative moans of pleasure.
My father had exchanged his grey barber’s jacket for a smart blazer and unlocked the door. ‘Have an enjoyable evening, girls,’ he chuckled, ‘and do not forget to lock the door after me.’
Brandishing a razor, I held Cassie’s reflection in the mirror with my head to one side. She smiled, giving an almost imperceptible nod.
I slowly and methodically began to scrape away the foam from Cassie’s head and taking with it the fine bristles that remained. I did not rush and, for much of the time, she kept her eyes shut, or she watched me from under half-closed lids. An enigmatic smile flickered repeatedly on her lips as I performed my diligent and enjoyable work.
Gently wiping Cassie’s head clean of the remnants of the foam, I poured oil into my palm. Applying it her scalp, I gently massaged it into her skin, later buffing it with a soft cloth until her perfectly shaped head gleamed like a billiard.
I stood in front of Cassie while she remained seated. Smiling, we held each other’s gaze without speaking. Then she beckoned me towards her and, as I leant in, she took my face in both her hands and kissed me gently on the lips. Inevitably, her hands found their way to my scalp where her fingers glided over my skin. With equal predictability, my hands found her glass-like head. To facilitate what was to follow, I eased my knees onto the seat of the chair, positioned astride her. We giggled conspiratorially, and then we lost ourselves in a maelstrom of indulgence and intimacy.
In that moment, Cassie became part of an unspoken sisterhood. Connections I had forged. Bonds born out of choice and bravery.
Epilogue
Sometime later, Cassie and I left the barbershop hand in hand. In that quiet moment, beneath the fading light of the day, Cassie was no longer merely a businesswoman, but a woman who had embraced her fear and emerged on the other side, stronger and more beautiful.
As we walked back to the café, the sun set in a molten blaze behind us, reflecting on Cassie’s glistening scalp. I could not help but smile at the possibilities that lay ahead. Together, we were walking towards something neither of us could fully grasp yet.
However, unlike the many long-haired women I had taken to my dad in the past, I fervently hoped that Cassie would fully understand and accept how things worked. When I needed to see long hair tumble once again, Cassie would have to accept my need to find a suitable candidate and proudly present her to my dad who would be waiting for her in The Lanes Barbershop.
