Amelia Watches While Other Do, Part 3 – Progression

Confrontation

Previously, I had resolved not to return to the café to indulge myself by watching induction haircuts at Shauna’s Barbershop. And I had known I would one day, but I had not been quite ready to stop. So, I had sat at my usual table and Maria, the waitress, had placed my coffee in front of me without me even needing to order.

As I had sipped my coffee and prepared myself for the latest “show”, a shadow had suddenly crossed my table.

‘So, when are you popping in for your induction haircut?’ a seductive voice enquired.

The words puzzled me. Also, I was confused by someone addressing me in such a familiar way, in a location where the only person I had spoken to was waitress. I looked around at the other tables but there was no one else in earshot. So, I looked up to find a tall figure looming over me, silhouetted against the sun.

Shading my eyes with one hand, I was astonished to see Shauna, the barber, staring down at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Recognisable easily by her familiar short white dress clinging to her body in all the right places, and her auburn hair tumbling casually over her shoulders

On all my expeditions, I had never seen Shauna outside of her barbershop. Strangely, I had never even given a thought to her having a life outside her premises. From my limited perspective, I had considered her only as a head shearing automaton. Apart from her glancing out of the window in my direction, accompanied by the occasional smile, there had never been any other interaction. Yet, there she was, suddenly looming over me. And she had asked me a question about my hair. Given her firm demeanour, she was expecting me to answer.

‘Er, what?’ I squeaked lamely, instinctively clinging to my ponytail in an act of defence. ‘No! I like my long hair,’ I elaborated, equally lamely.

‘Really?’ she sniffed. ‘Well, yes, it is lovely,’ she begrudgingly conceded, reaching out and toying with my ponytail in an overly familiar fashion. ‘But I’ve seen that you enjoy watching me at work … quite often, in fact … and you clearly find bald heads on men and women, let’s say, enticing …’ Shauna teased, her meaning clear.

‘Y … yes … well, er, no … well, maybe on guys … and interesting, not enticing …’ I stammered. But, anyway, nice chatting with you, but I need to go now,’ I added, feeling flustered as I tried to dismiss her.

‘Go? But you haven’t finished your coffee,’ she snapped. ‘Besides, you’ve not watched me at work today,’ she added indignantly, conveying the impression that she ran her shearing sessions solely for my benefit rather than for the air force. ‘And you are?’

‘As I said, I’m going,’ I snapped, growing anxious.

‘No, I meant, what is your name?’ Shauna huffed.

‘Oh, I see, Well, it’s Amelia, actually,’ I giggled, quickly draining my cup, burning my mouth. ‘But really, I must go,’ I repeated, jumping to my feet, not wishing the barber to draw me into an awkward conversation that might disclose the depth of my secret passion.

‘Amelia actually,’ she repeated with a grin, pausing to reflect on my mistakenly extended name. ‘Yes, I like that. ‘Anyway, Amelia, you will come with me, right now!’ she insisted, allowing me no opportunity to argue. ‘And you will be able to enjoy a ringside seat for the next show as soon as the new recruits come marching in my shop,’ she smirked, unexpectedly holding out her hand like a mother gathering up her child.

More astonishingly, and without even giving it a conscious thought, I found myself placing my own hand in hers.

Showtime

Finding myself powerless to resist her, Shauna led me across the precinct and over the threshold of her domain. She positioned a comfortable chair in the middle of her shop. It looked completely out of place, but anyone seated would have a clear view of where Shauna worked. With a casual wave, she gestured that I should sit down.

‘Just relax, Amelia,’ she purred. ‘I will be back very soon.’

With Shauna excusing herself, it allowed me time to take in my surroundings. Being inside the barbershop for the first time, felt much less intimidating that I had expected. For sure it had a masculine air about it, but it was clean and bright. However, the emphasis on cutting tools – scissors and combs lined up neatly on a shelf below the mirror, and a plethora of hairclippers hanging from hooks on the wall – gave the most compelling indication of the barbershop’s uncompromising purpose.

Shauna reappeared, interrupting my musings, and placed a cup of coffee in my hands.

‘Thanks, Shauna,’ I said, but the rhythmic rumble of feet crossing the precinct outside halted any further conversation. A line of new recruits marched past the window and filed into the shop. They stood silently, to attention, against the back wall where the Shauna had authoritatively directed them. It was apparent that they had already had a degree of discipline instilled within them, but I imagined no one would argue in Shauna’s intimidating presence.

‘It’s showtime,’ Shauna announced, and I would have instinctively applauded if I had not had the cup of coffee in my hand.

Although the recruits maintained their eyes to the front, I caught fleeting curious glances cast in my direction. My feminine appearance looked out of place in the austere surroundings of a men’s barbershop. However, I felt strangely comfortable in my short pencil skirt, crisp blouse with a bow at the front, and a tailored blazer. I admit that I felt like royalty perched on a throne, wearing my elegant office attire and sipping my beverage.

My appearance contrasted markedly with the basic outfit of shorts and T-shirt worn by the recruits, who looked extremely confused by my presence. The sole woman in the line, looked most confused of all. While dressed the same as her male colleagues, her hair was longer, styled in a smart inverted bob. It dipped down below her chin at the front, sloped up much higher at the back, combined with a thick blunt fringe. It appeared freshly cut and, undoubtedly, she believed the air force and their barber would deem the style acceptable. I was dubious.

‘Enjoy!’ Shauna whispered conspiratorially in my direction, before turning to face the line. She directed the first of her victims to take his place in her formidable-looking barber’s chair. Despite it being next to the window, I had never had a clear view of the chair before. It was much larger than I had expected, and robustly constructed in shining metal and red leather. I imagined the array of levers at its side raised and reclined the chair as Shauna dictated. It was clearly a functional item of furniture but, at the same time, it exhibited an intimidating presence.

Without a word to the recruit, Shauna swiftly enveloped him in a large white cape. She jerked the chair upwards, before giving his scruffy locks a cursory run through with a comb.

I was sipping my coffee as the red hairclippers burst to life. Caught out by my first experience of the volume of their shrill whine, I nearly spilt by my drink. On seeing Shauna place the glinting blade of the hairclippers on the chap’s forehead and forcing it back through his hair, I though it prudent to put down my cup.

My previous observations had not prepared me for the thrill being so close to the action. Shauna stretched against her tight white dress as she drove the hairclippers mercilessly through his locks, vigorously manoeuvring his head around to suit her purposes. It was obvious that it was a task she performed frequently. However, her constant smile demonstrated that familiarity did not lesson her enjoyment. Nor did it dampen her enthusiasm for ensuring she had dispatched every hair on the young man’s head. Shauna was clinical in her efficiency, and it took no time at all for her to render him completely bald, his head completely smooth and gleaming brightly under the lights.

Flicking away the cape and wasting no words, she directed the next recruit into her chair. With her practiced efficiency, but always with a smile, she repeated the operation until each of the young men’s heads shared a close resemblance to a cue ball.

Lastly, it was the bobbed girl.

Evasion

When the bobbed girl had entered the shop, she had not been at the end of the line. However, she had engineered herself to be the last recruit displaying any hair. By subtle shuffling around, her reprieve may have resulted from a chivalrous attempt by the guys to hide the woman’s hair from Shauna’s attention. If so, they had failed.

Shauna locked eyes with the woman, held up her hand, and then intimidatingly beckoned her forward with her index finger. When she had the woman’s undivided attention, she pointed down at her chair, her command unmistakable. To her credit, the woman gave a curt nod before briskly marching up to Shauna, maintaining eye contact all the while.

‘Abigail Prentice, Ma’am,’ she saluted, her bobbed hair bouncing up and down enticingly as she did so. ‘Given my surname, I expect you know my father? From the base?’ she smiled expectantly.

Obviously, I did not know Prentice senior, but from the woman’s demeanour I assumed he was someone important connected with the air base.

‘Yes, Miss Prentice, indeed I do,’ Shauna confirmed sweetly. ‘Now sit!’

‘Yes, but I have my hair trimmed by a top salon in town,’ she pressed on confidently. ‘So, my father -’

‘Is not here!’ Shauna completed Abigail’s sentence. There was a distinct edge to the barber’s voice, accompanied by a deep frown clouding her features. ‘But I am here, and I am in charge! So, Prentice, sit down!’

‘Look, my hair is off my collar, so it meets the requirements,’ she argued smugly.

I thought I could see smoke rising from Shauna as she silently fumed. ‘Your hair does not meet any requirements,’ she stated, surprisingly calmly, ‘but, in particular, it does not meet my requirements. Sit. Down. Now!’ she barked.

Shauna’s tone was enough for Abigail Prentice to adopt a stiff attentive pose, her casual name dropping having failed. ‘Ma’am,’ she said curtly, before tentatively perching herself on the edge of the chair.

Shauna swiftly draped her with the usual large white cape and jerked the chair high off the ground. I imagined Abigail expected to get her own way with most people but, under Shauna’s orders, she looked very vulnerable and extremely nervous.

Shauna ran a comb through the woman’s immaculately cut bob, appearing to give the style a nod of professional approval. Catching the barber’s reflection in the mirror was sufficient to hint at an opening for Abigail.

‘If you could just trim it a teeny-weeny bit then I would be ever so grateful,’ Abigail put forward sweetly.

‘How about a quarter of an inch to start with, then we’ll see how we go from there,’ Shauna suggested, barely disguising an evil glint in her eye.

‘Perfect,’ Abigail smugly agreed, settling back in the chair, clearly believing that she had got her own way.

Shauna’s red hairclippers raucously burst back into life. Immediately, she swept the glinting blade through the precise fringe covering Abigail’s forehead and brutally continued moving it over the top of her head. A dark shadow was all the remained.

Abigail’s jaw dropped to the floor. ‘What the …!’

Repeated passes of the clippers drowned her continuing cries of blasphemous horror. Shauna removed swathes of Abigail’s elegant bob, the hair sliding down the cape and tumbling to the floor to join the shorter snippets of her colleagues. In the same double-quick time as Shauna had denuded her male colleagues, the barber had reduced the woman recruit’s locks to a suede-like crewcut.

Silencing her hairclippers, Shauna gave Abigail’s head a brisk rub. ‘Ooh, that feels nice,’ she giggled.

‘What the … you said only quarter of an inch,’ Abigail exploded after a brief pause to gather her thoughts.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Shauna said innocently. ‘You must have misunderstood, Abigail,’ she continued, adopting a sugary innocent grin. ‘That is a quarter of an inch. That is the maximum length of hair that my contract permits me to leave – a concession for the women recruits – so I have done you a great favour as I much prefer to remove all the hair on the grounds of sexual equality.’

I was struggling to keep a straight face. It was quite apparent that Shauna saw this as payback. By winding up the entitled woman following her earlier outbursts, she had achieved complete success.

‘Wait until my father sees what you have done to me,’ Abigail whined.

‘Indeed, Abigail,’ Shauna smirked, ‘and I am sure he will be delighted. He will see that I have executed to perfection the haircut directive that your father personally specified.’

Unsurprisingly, stifled titters arose from the guys who, I imagined, had tired of their entitled female colleague seeking preferential treatment by virtue of her father’s rank.

‘It’s just not fair,’ Abigail grumbled petulantly, accompanied by the amusing act of her trying to stamp her foot when suspended high off the ground in a barber’s chair.

Shauna shrugged, with a smile playing on her lips. ‘So, you’re happy to leave it there, are you, Abigail? Or did you want to go all the way with you, like your colleagues?’

Her glum and defeated expression demonstrated an acceptance that she risked alienating her fellow recruits. ‘Go all the way with me,’ she muttered, barely audible.

‘I beg your pardon, Abigail?’ Shauna challenged.

‘Please, take off all my hair down to the skin, just like my colleagues … Ma’am,’ she spat, staring defiantly straight ahead, her eyes reddening, but holding her tears at bay.

‘It will be my pleasure, Abigail,’ Shauna confirmed, making an adjustment to her hairclippers. ‘One more cue-ball coming right up!’ she announced provocatively.

In less than a minute, Shauna had dispatched every bristle on the young woman’s head. With clinical efficiency, she had rendered her completely bald, her head shaved smooth and shiny, gleaming brightly under the lights.

Although it was only my opinion, I thought Abigail Prentice looked stunning. I had to stop myself applauding as Shauna lowered the chair and grandly whisked away the cape. The woman marched over to her fellow recruits, proudly holding her bald head high.

Inspection

Shauna walked up and down the line, inspecting the recruits as if they were on parade, checking the smoothness of a couple of scalps.

Watching, I found her scrutiny an amusing postscript to what I had witnessed, one that forced me to stifle a chuckle. However, I did feel a touch of envy over her rubbing those heads and that evening, doubtless I would fantasise about taking on her role.

I assumed this act would bring the proceedings in the barbershop to a close, the recruits would depart, and I would take my leave.

‘Ready for inspection, Ma’am,’ Shauna barked, giving a lazy salute in my direction, adding a wink that was unseen by the recruits.

Obviously, I should have refused and treated the invitation to inspect the bald recruits as a joke. But I reasoned they did not have a clue who I was. For all they knew, my role may have been to check that Shauna’s work was up to the standard required by the military. After all, being a hair auditor was slightly more credible than me simply being a random voyeur that she had picked up in a café!

Another wink of encouragement from Shauna was all that I needed for me to jump to my feet. I buttoned my blazer, smoothed the bow at my neck, and adjusted the hem of my short skirt, before marching briskly towards the line of recruits.

I studied the head of the first recruit, and I simply nodded sagely.

‘That’s first class,’ I stated pompously as I reviewed the second. ‘Are you happy with your appearance, young man?’

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he confirmed brusquely, showing no emotion.

I looked more critically at the third. ‘Hmm …’ I remarked, resting my fingers lightly on his scalp. He did not even flinch as I moved my fingers around, checking the smoothness of his skin. ‘No, it was a false alarm. That’s all fine,’ I murmured in the deep pompous voice I seemed to readily have adopted for my inspection role.

I moved along the line, murmuring platitudes as I saw fit, and receiving polite responses when I asked a question.

Lastly, I stood before a defiant Abigail Preston. I wondered what she thought – what they all thought – about my inspection. A random woman with no authority wearing a tailored suit, worn over a crisp white blouse, and with a smart bow at the neck.

From my perspective, being so close to a beautiful bald woman for the first time in my life felt intoxicating. Not surprisingly, under the circumstances, I felt a certain bashfulness as she looked incredible. Everything was perfect about the shape of her head, the way it elegantly curved out at the back before, swan-like, smoothly blending into her neck.

‘Stunning,’ I thought, fingering her scalp delicately as part of my inspection.

‘Ma’am?’ Abigail breathed questioningly, making me realise I had accidentally given voice to my thoughtful and heart-felt, but private, opinion.

‘Sorry, I was just contemplating how suitable your appearance will be for running,’ I improvised, still caressing Abigail’s head. ‘Well done, Preston, for demanding the same appearance as the young lads. First class.’

‘Thank you, Ma’am, but I am not a lad,’ she purred quietly, her eyes locking on to mine invitingly. ‘And the gentle way you’re fondling my head at the moment suggests that you prefer me just as I am.’ Lowering her voice, she added. ‘Shall we swap phone numbers?’

‘What? Eh?’ I blustered pompously, embarrassment catching up with me. Fortunately, she had spoken so quietly that I doubted anyone else had heard her. ‘First class, all of you,’ I said, turning away from the recruits to face Shauna. ‘They are a credit to your skills, and to the service.’

I presented Shauna with a lazy salute, although not knowing quite why. I grinned conspiratorially to convey my appreciation. Her smile wavered, and I thought I detected a tinge of annoyance, perhaps even jealousy, following my interaction with Abigail.

‘Thank you, Ma’am,’ Shauna responded solemnly. ‘Dismissed!’ she barked, giving a curt nod to the recruit at the start of the line who briskly marched from the shop followed by his cue-ball colleagues. Abigail was last to leave, winking at me as she passed, and dropping a slip of paper in my hand.

Afterglow

As they disappeared, Shauna and I released our tension by bursting into laughter, following our spontaneous improvised “show”. When our giggling finally subsided, I suddenly felt very awkward.

Something strange had happened. Unexpected, for sure. Highly enjoyable, certainly. But strange, nevertheless.

I wanted to thank Shauna for the opportunity. However, I had no idea how to convey my appreciation for something that was so far outside my comfort zone. Nevertheless, once I had done that, I could be on my way and enjoy my evening at home, alone, reminiscing about my perfect day.

Given the strange way the situation had developed, I imagined Shauna was feeling uncomfortable too. But I quickly found out just how wrong I was.

‘I trust you found that experience enjoyable,’ Shauna purred, strutting up to me.

I smiled broadly, nodding my agreement.

However, before I could say anything, Shauna reached up and encircled the base of my ponytail with her right hand. She slowly ran her fingers down the full length of my hair. I shivered with pleasure at her touch.

‘I am so pleased that you enjoyed yourself, Amelia,’ the barber purred. ‘Now, it is my turn to enjoy myself. So, please take a seat in my lovely comfortable chair, as the time has finally come for your own induction haircut.’

To be continued

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