Afterglow

The morning after I had viewed the video of my extreme haircut from sixteen years earlier with Erin, my girlfriend, I woke up later than usual. My body was pleasantly tingling in the afterglow of the night before. The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the tangled mess of blonde hair sprawled across my pillow, escaped from the bun that Erin had hastily fashioned. Irrespective of her positive opinion of my protruding ears, I had made up my mind that tying my hair back was not going to happen again.

Erin was already up, bustling around in the kitchen. She placed a steaming mug of coffee in my hand. ‘Drink up, Catherine,’ she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘We need to get you ready for the day ahead.’

I looked at her, confused. ‘Ready for what?’ I asked, unaware that we had made any plans for the day.

Erin pointed to a freshly ironed dress hanging on the back of the bedroom door. She had taken it from my wardrobe, and I noted it was remarkably similar to the strappy floral example that I had worn in the video. My stomach dropped.

‘I am taking you for lunch at the pub by the river,’ she gushed. ‘On a warm day like this, we will be able to sit outside and while away a very pleasant few hours.’

A sense of relief washed over me, although I was unsure why. ‘That would be really lovely, Erin.’

‘So, pop on that lovely dress, Cath,’ Erin said, her voice laced with amusement and something less definable, ‘as we have something else to do first.’

‘Oh, yes?’ I answered agreeably, holding up the dress in front of me and nodding approvingly at her choice.

‘Yes, you have an appointment at the barbershop in less than an hour,’ she said smoothly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. ‘A lovely barber called Sophie will be waiting to shave your head,’ she beamed. ‘And I will be recording the whole thing on my iPhone for us to watch later this evening.’

My eyes widened in horror. ‘Erin, you’re insane!’

Arrangements

‘Am I, Catherine?’ Erin grinned, unfazed by my reaction. ‘Or am I just giving you what you secretly want?’

‘Absolutely not! Are you serious?’ I said, trying to keep my voice down.

‘Never been more serious in my life!’ my girlfriend chuckled. ‘Now come on, let’s not be late,’ she said grabbing my hand and trying to pull me from the bed.

‘But, er … but my hair! You know how much I love my hair!’ I exclaimed. ‘And you do too,’ I added eagerly, keen to remind her.

‘Yes, Catherine, I do. And it is magnificent, but think of the experience … it is only hair, and it will grow back … if you want it to,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘Think of how much fun we will have,’ she added with a cheeky grin.

‘Fun? Fun for who? You, perhaps …’ I retorted.

‘Of course it will be fun for me, but I genuinely think you will enjoy this too. You were brilliant on the video. So confident, so relaxed, and so sexy. You turned me on so much!’

‘You were turned on, were you? Great! So, you shave your head!’ I snapped, and I immediately regretted my abrupt tone.

Erin looked at me, her eyes changing. ‘Don’t tempt me,’ she hissed.

I knew I had to change tack. It was no good arguing with her now. ‘Erin, please. I know it was a long time ago and I was a different person. I hated doing that video. It made me paranoid about hairdressers for years. I still am! Please, do not make me do this,’ I pleaded.

‘Okay,’ Erin shrugged. ‘I will not force you to shave your head,’ she said agreeably. ‘But I had to pay in advance when I booked your appointment this morning as Sophie will close the shop, just for us. So, you could, just get a teensy-weensy trim so we do not waste the deposit which is non-refundable.’

‘I don’t know …’ I muttered suspiciously, thinking it was a nice attempt and bending me to her desires, although I still could not understand why she was being quite so pushy.

Erin gave a long sigh. ‘Come on, Cath, get ready. We only have half an hour before the appointment.’

‘No!’ I barked, surprising even myself with the harshness of my tone. ‘I don’t want to go, so I will pay you back the deposit and let that be an end to it.’

‘Look, Catherine, we have already established that I was incredibly turned on by you in the video. But it was missing something. It would mean so much to be there with you, holding your hand, giving you encouragement, and most importantly, recording it for posterity,’ she implored.

I simply stared at Erin, confused by her craving, and lost for words. I slowly shook my head, feeling sad about our splintering relationship.

Suddenly Erin grabbed me and gave me a long passionate kiss. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I am not going to force you if you really do not want to do it. But I am asking you as a favour. Please?’

‘Look, Erin,’ I said in a conciliatory tone, but continuing to hold firm. ‘We can still go for lunch down by the river. It will be lovely, and we can, er … well, we can talk about things. I will go and get ready.’

I spun around and made for the bathroom, grabbing the dress from the back of the door. ‘Right,’ Erin huffed behind me. ‘Fine,’ she grumbled, but I knew things were far from fine.

Preparations

I quickly showered, washing and conditioning my hair, so it would look its best. I blasted my locks with the blow drier, which was not the best way to treat it, normally preferring to let it dry naturally, but I knew time was of the essence. As usual, when subjected to such treatment, my hair was fuller and wilder than its normal state, and I loved it. I hoped it would remind Erin just how good it continued to look while long.

I carefully applied my makeup, emphasising my eyes with the bold liner and shadow that I knew my girlfriend loved. Red lips, I hoped, added to my allure.

I slipped on the dress and admired myself in the mirror. It was pretty and, as always, I loved the way the ends of my hair swished against the back of bare legs below the hem of the dress. But for whatever reason on that day, the hem seemed far too short, the neckline felt like it plunged lower than normal, and the thin straps over my shoulders left me feeling bare. Although I was unable to put my finger on the problem, it felt like something unexpected was in the air.

I wondered whether it was time to accept that I was in my mid-thirties and if I should stop dressing like I was still a student. Calf length dresses with demure necklines favoured by other female artists at the exhibitions I visited might be more appropriate for my age. I made a mental note to discuss my revised sense of style with Erin over lunch, then perhaps we visit the fashion boutiques in the afternoon to look at less revealing attire.

Our earlier disagreement before I had retired to the bathroom had left me feeling anxious. It was rare for us to quarrel about anything. When we did, either Erin or I would soon concede and apologise quickly to avoid any bad feeling from dragging on. But this felt different. Bigger. I knew I had to compromise to keep our relationship on an even keel. So, as I was making my final adjustments to my appearance, I worked out what I should say to her to maintain cordiality.

‘Ta-da!’ I announced emphatically, as I joyfully presented myself to Erin in the living room. I had hoped she would have seen the error of her ways and cheered up in the brief time I had been getting ready, but she still looked morose.

‘Oh, you look nice,’ she mumbled disconsolately, showing little enthusiasm as she glanced up from scrolling through her phone.

Compromise, I reminded myself, taking a deep breath. ‘Okay, Erin, I’ll do it.’

Readiness

‘What?’ Erin’s eyes widened on hearing my acceptance of her suggestion, a smile forming on her lips. ‘You will go with me to the barber and have your head shaved?’

There was compromise and there was capitulation, I thought wryly. ‘No, sorry, Erin. I will go to the barber and have my hair trimmed as it could really do with it, but that is all. And you will be accompanying me which is wonderful.’

That was a huge concession from me as I had never stepped foot in any sort of hairdressing salon for sixteen years. Usually my mum, occasionally a friend, would trim the minimum amount from the ends of my hair whenever I deemed it necessary. And that was not often! However, in the six months since I had known Erin, I had not succumbed, so I accepted that a light dusting of the ends would improve the overall appearance of my hair.

‘Right,’ Erin murmured, but the smile that had been emerging had become more of a grimace. She knew I was compromising for the sake of our relationship, and she realised she had pushed me as far as she could without causing upset. ‘Fine. That will be, er … nice.’

Erin helped me on with my worn denim jacket that always looked so shabby chic with all my dresses, shrugged on her own black leather biker jacket, and we were on our way.

Choices

I was vaguely aware of a barber shop on the high street in the old town, so I assumed that is where we were heading. My recollection as to its location was hazy as, without thinking, I always gave the intimidating establishment a wide berth.

However, Erin hurried us along, past that part of town, and we entered the artisan quarter comprising a warren of passageways with a variety of independent premises. We walked to the end of a lane that was unfamiliar to me, and tucked between a bookshop and an unoccupied store was our destination, Sophie’s Choice Barbershop.

‘Here we are, Cath,’ Erin murmured, her laboured enthusiasm for the premises breaking the near silence of our journey.

An unprepossessing frontage comprised a narrow window alongside a door, the wooden frames painted a glossy black. The hand-painted signage above the window was picked out in silver. The shop was functional and unwelcoming, vastly different from the stylish and modern establishment I had visited sixteen years earlier.

‘I can’t go in there, Erin,’ I cried anxiously. ‘It looks awful. Why here?’

‘Well, it seems barbershops don’t usually do appointments like salons,’ Erin explained. ‘You just go in and wait your turn. But for this one, Sophie said I could book her exclusively for a couple of hours if I paid a deposit. So, I did, and it means no one will disturb you when you have your hair cut. Come on, it will be fun,’ Erin said unconvincingly.

I reasoned that as I was only having a trim then it should be safe enough to go inside, have it done, and leave quickly. I accepted it was good of Erin to book it exclusively given my nervousness about such establishments.

‘Well, if you are sure …’ I said tentatively, holding back as she pulled me by the hand towards the door, making me feel like a reluctant child.

Arrival

A bell tinkled as Erin pushed the door open and I stumbled inside after her, still holding her hand. The interior was as austere as the frontage. A single chrome and leather barber’s chair, looking past its best, dominated the space. It faced a large mirror that had a variety of functional drawers and cabinets surrounding it. A large quantity of terrifying haircutting equipment covered a shelf below the mirror, and there was little in the way of adornment to make the place more welcoming.

‘You must be Erin,’ a woman’s voice boomed, as the owner emerged from an open doorway at the back of the premises. She marched straight up to my girlfriend to shake her hand ‘Your precise and accurate description of Catherine,’ she said, gesturing towards me, ‘immediately identifies her as that person. So, I conclude that it was you who I spoke to earlier,’ she clarified with a smile that held no warmth. ‘I am Sophie, and welcome to my humble establishment!’

Given how different the barbershop was to the salon I had previously visited, the similarity between Sophie, the barber, and Natasha, my previous hairdresser, was striking. The same statuesque and intimidating appearance, both dressed all in black.

Sophie was around thirty, a similar age to how the hairdresser had been sixteen years earlier. She wore a short black leather skirt, black opaque tights, black knee-high boots, and a figure-hugging black lace top. She had scraped back her dark hair into a high ponytail, which swung back and forth as she moved. Although she had greeted us with a smile, it had yet to reach her eyes, leading me to feel anxious.

‘So, Catherine,’ she continued, extending her hand towards me. ‘Erin gave me the outline of what you require, but none of the details. My understanding is that you will be guiding me throughout the process.’

I had no idea the level of detail that Erin had related, so I decided to interject to clarify that I only wanted a trim. ‘Er, yes, but -’

‘While your needs are unusual, your generous deposit ensures that you will receive precisely what you require. Erin has instructed me not to speak unless you say something to me. Just remember, I am just here to facilitate the process. And to give you exactly what you desire.’

‘Thanks, Sophie,’ I said nervously, watching as she flipped the sign on the door to closed, slipped the latch, and pulled down the blind on the window.

Turning to Erin, I noted she had made herself comfortable on a bench along one wall and had propped up her iPhone to face me, a light blinking ominously. Although we had not been chatty on the way to the barbershop – she had still been sulking as I was not doing precisely what she wished – she smiled sweetly and gave me an encouraging wink.

Consultation

‘Okay, Catherine, let’s get started,’ Sophie chirped, gesturing towards the huge old barber’s chair in front of the mirror.

I sat down and immediately found myself jerking, little by little, until I was high off the ground. Knowing I would be unable to jump down easily, left me feeling vulnerable. The worn leather felt cold against my thighs and, as I attempted to pull down the hem of my short dress for decency and comfort, it rode up even higher.

‘Not to worry, Catherine,’ Sophie smirked. ‘It is nice to have a client in such a pretty dress, although it will seem strange to have it uncovered while I work. However, Erin says that you wish to remain exposed. Is that correct?’

I nodded. My girlfriend had noticed that in my video, I was not caped. I had thought it strange too at that time, but the couple who had recruited me said that their viewers of their viewers tended to prefer it that way. I was happy to do the same again to keep Erin happy. But, before I answered Sophie, I tried to formulate an excuse as to why I did not wish her to cover me with a cape. Should I say it is too hot? Suggest I suffer from claustrophobia? Tell her viewers of haircutting videos prefer it? Any reason I came up with sounded ridiculous and unconvincing.

‘I imagine you would get too hot under the cape,’ she nodded knowingly, and I saw no reason to confirm or deny her interjection. ‘After all, that dress must be so warm,’ she giggled, admiring my strappy, short, and flimsy attire. I let her sarcasm pass me by.

‘Okay,’ Sophie said with purpose, picking up a large-toothed comb. She ran it through my thick blonde locks that stretched down the back of the chair, almost touching the floor, praising its length and condition. She arranged the sides of my hair so that they framed my face and flowed along my bare shoulders, over my breasts, with the ends pooling in my lap. ‘Wow, that quite a mane you have there, Catherine. I cannot remember ever seeing something so magnificent in that chair before.’

‘Thanks,’ I gulped, wondering if I even needed a trim given how good it looked not only to me in the mirror, but also to a professional hairdresser.

‘Now, Catherine, Erin has not explained what you wanted done today,’ Sophie went on. I felt overcome with relief that my girlfriend had not told the barber that her original intention was for me to have my head shaved. ‘So, did you just want the ends trimmed or were you considering a restyle? Something a little shorter and more manageable?’

‘Trim,’ I squeaked, although a constriction in my throat made it sound more like a strangled cough.

The strange look Sophie gave me suggested that she had not been able to decipher what I had said, so she went on. ‘I could cut the excess length to here,’ she made a chopping action with the side of her hand just below the shoulders. Ironically, it was the length that Natasha had first cut my hair sixteen years earlier. Three feet of hair had fallen that day. She looked at me questioningly, waiting for an answer to her suggestion.

I was prepared to explain to Sophie that it was not excess length below my shoulders, but it was the actual length that I desired. ‘Or we could do a nice easy to manage bob, which would look striking with your glossy hair? Chin length, and with a fringe?’

Irony reared its head again, as she suggested the next style Natasha gave me sixteen years earlier. However, I did not want or need any suggestions. I needed to clear my dry throat and then tell her exactly what I did want done.

I coughed loudly to relax my voice, disguising the noise with a high-pitched chuckle. ‘Or maybe even a bowlcut?’ I quipped satirically to lighten the mood.

Options

Sophie looked at me strangely again. ‘I could give you a bowlcut,’ she drawled, clearly not appreciating my irony, and taking me seriously. ‘It’s a severe look but a teensy bit harsh for your features,’ she said gently, her eyes unmistakably latching on to my ears. ‘I could create a funky asymmetric textured crop for you. It would suit you better if you wanted to go that short, and disguise … that is, soften your, er … features better.’

I tried to look thoughtful, as I if I was giving her ridiculous advice appropriate consideration. As I did so, I looked in the mirror at Erin, leaning forward on the bench and taking in every word. She was flushed with excitement by my conversation with Sophie. Not only flushed, but licking her lips in a seductive gesture I knew extremely well.

‘So, Catherine, is it a bowlcut you require?’ she asked, responding to the only decipherable words I had recently uttered, but doing nothing to hide her contempt for my abhorrent proposal.

‘No, thanks, Sophie,’ I chuckled. ‘Thanks for all the suggestions but I just wanted a …’

My voice faded as I was about to attempt the word “trim” once more. My eyes had drifted back to Erin who had barely moved. As she licked her lips, I realised her excitement had turned to something more. The stimulation of the environment, seeing me in a barber’s chair, hearing me discuss haircuts with Sophie, was arousing her in the same way the video had the previous evening. In the glow of her undisguised pleasure, I even felt myself responding to the situation and I experienced something shifting deep down inside of me.

‘Sorry, what exactly is it you want?’ Sophie finally snapped in exasperation, clearly irritated by the covert glances, the fluttering eyes, and quivering lips that Erin and I were exchanging in the mirror.

I directed my brightest smile towards my girlfriend. ‘I wanted my head shaved, please, Sophie,’ I chirped, surprisingly clearly. Erin’s eyes widened, as she beamed back at me in the mirror, her smile justifying my instruction.

For good measure, I ran my hand airily over my head, from front to back, to illustrate the action that I wished Sophie to perform on my head. The same deed I had instructed Natasha to perform in the video sixteen years earlier when I explained what I wanted.

Decision

It was Sophie’s turn to struggle to find the right words. ‘I was only joking about all those styles, Catherine,’ she blustered. ‘Not serious. You have magnificent hair, so a trim would be the best course of action today. Then, maybe, next time take it a little bit shorter for it to be more manageable,’ she babbled. ‘Middle of your back perhaps? Shoulders at a push?’ she rambled on, using her hand against my hair to clarify each of her suggestions.

I held the barber’s gaze in the mirror, and I slowly ran my hand back above my head once again. ‘A head shave, please, Sophie,’ I repeated.

‘Catherine, you cannot be serious?’ she demanded, matching my stare in the mirror with narrowing eyes. I nodded emphatically. She cast a glance in Erin’s direction and received another nod, accompanied by a beaming smile of agreement. ‘You are serious,’ she concluded, looking astonished, and we both nodded again.

‘Are you able to do that for me?’ I questioned sweetly, unable to believe I was asking but certain it was the right thing to do for steadying my relationship with Erin.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said curtly. ‘I am a barber,’ she uttered pointedly, while brushing through my hair and allowing it all to flow down the back of the chair. ‘It’s just you have such beautiful hair,’ she said, her voice now surprisingly gentle. ‘It’s such a shame to even cut it, let alone shave it all off.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I quipped, wavering slightly, but managing a weak smile.

Sophie rummaged through a drawer and produced a couple of thick rubber bands. ‘Fine. I mean, it is your decision, obviously,’ Sophie said, shrugging. ‘But if you want to stop at any point, just say the word,’ she offered, while attempting to bundle my thick and wayward locks into a ponytail.

‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘but please could I ask you not to use ordinary rubber hands to tie back my hair as they are prone to cause damage to the hair shaft.’

She fixed me with her puzzled look once more. ‘Er, but if you really do want me to shave your head, it will be a long time before you can have a ponytail again. So, it will not really matter, will it?’ she reasoned.

She had a good point. ‘Very true, Sophie. Oops, silly me,’ I giggled.

With her manoeuvring my hair into a ponytail, it reminded me of Erin bundling up my hair the previous evening and I remembered, with fondness, what it led to. Although still anxious in Sophie’s presence, I quivered with expectation, an excited flutter building down below.

Sophie forced my hair into a pluming ponytail that emerged from my crown, a style that mirrored her own. Then she secured it with a rubber band before she pulled it taut at the base. She added the second band a short distance from the first for good measure.

As the barber prepared the next stage, I studied my reflection. My blonde hair scraped back from my face made me look startled due to the pulling on my hairline. My ears stood out prominently from the side of my head and caused me to reconsider whether I was doing the right thing. I looked to Erin for reassurance, rubbing my left ear. She slowly licked her lips seductively and smiled, reminding me that the most important person in my life loved how they looked.

‘Right,’ Sophie declared, holding my ponytail firmly above my head and brandishing menacing red hairclippers in her other hand. ‘Catherine, are you sure you want this all cut off?’

I took a deep breath, and then I let it out slowly. ‘Yes, please, Sophie.’

Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head to indicate she thought I was crazy. Perhaps she was right, I contemplated. But she was too professional to say anything more. ‘Okay …’ she shrugged.

Initiation

A harsh whine filled the small space as the hairclippers roared into life. She placed the blade – without any guard, I noticed – against my ponytail, between the two bands. She paused, looking at me meaningfully in the mirror.

I looked at Erin who continued to radiate a beaming smile in my direction. I echoed her grin, using it as a gesture to prompt Sophie to proceed. And she did.

The whining of the hairclippers changed to a raucous growl as the vibrating blade bit into my hair. I could see severed strands separate above my head. Increasingly, she forced the blade deeper into the base of the ponytail.

I watched, expressionless, with a detachment that had me wondering if I was watching it happen to someone else. But I could feel Sophie’s relentless tugging to maintain my hair’s tautness for easing the path of the clippers, so I had indisputable evidence that I was the subject. Even so, my hair put up a valiant fight, a testimony its thickness. Finally, after repeated jabs of the blade into the hidden depths between the two rubber bands, my ponytail became free.

I heard a stifled squeal from Erin behind me, but I dared not look to see the emotional impact that the severing of my ponytail was having on her. Although I expected to feel sad following such a momentous change, I was actually tingling with excitement, a sensation boosted by Sophie holding up my long thick ponytail like it was a valuable trophy. How on earth could I have carted around all that hair for so many years, I contemplated.

Sophie laid out my ponytail, almost reverentially, on the shelf below the mirror. It remained in my view which seemed rather cruel of her. But it certainly brought home the magnitude of what I had committed myself to.

My attention transferred to the ridiculously short stump of hair that remained still bound on my crown. It looked like a stiff little brush, a comparison not missed by Sophie as she playfully wiggled it around with the palm of her hand. I should have found her candour irritating but, strangely, I enjoyed the sensation.

Once she had tired of her little game, she snipped the rubber band, and my remaining hair tumbled down. And what a sorry sight it was. Running her fingers through it, she arranged in into a semblance of a bob. A short, ragged, and uneven bob that barely reached my chin. I wanted it gone as quickly as possible.

‘There would still be sufficient hair to fashion a nice bowlcut, if that really is your preference, Catherine,’ she whispered, mindful of Erin’s instruction not to talk during the process.

I gave a little shake of my head, but she was not giving up.

‘An edgy cropped style then?’ she pressed, sounding almost desperate.

‘No, I want my head shaved, please, Sophie,’ I confirmed, running my hand back airily over my head for emphasis.

Progression

Sophie finally got the message, as her expression hardened and she grabbed her hairclippers again. A loud buzzing filling the room once more.

‘Fine,’ she sniffed, placing the bare blade on my forehead against the hairline. She responded as if I had challenged her professional opinion.

This time, without pausing and with a determined expression, Sophie drove the roaring blade over my crown. Straight down the middle of my hair it went, sending shivers down my spine. As she moved the hairclippers away after the first pass, I saw a velvet-like stubble had appeared on top of my head between the straggly hair that hung down each side of my head.

With a furious intent, Sophie repeatedly widened the path until the top of my head was bare. Then she quickly repeated the action on the back and sides of my head, reducing my hair to a neat and uniform bristly shadow. Irrespective of the appearance, the vibration of the hairclippers against my head was intoxicating.

Short tendrils of severed hair covered my shoulders, my cleavage, and my thighs. A huge pool of my tresses had collected in my lap. After all the hair that Sophie had cut off as a single ponytail, it was incredible that there had been so much more for her to still shear away. But shear away she had.

To demonstrate her accomplishment, Sophie briskly rubbed my buzzed head. I assumed it was to remove stray hairs prior to the next stage, although she seemed to continue for longer than was strictly necessary. I did not complain, as the tingling through my body was now transforming itself into undeniable arousal. Looking at Erin’s reflection, her eyes half-closed, I surmised she was experiencing similar emotions just by watching.

Without a word, Sophie exchanged her large red hairclippers for a device I recognised as a foil shaver. A loud insistent hum filled the room as she applied the cold metal to my crown and in practiced swirling motions she erased the dark shadow of bristles from my crown, leaving the pristine whiteness of skin that had never seen the rays of the sun.

Silencing the shaver, I wondered if that was going to be the end of it. My perception was that no hair had ever grown on my head, but Sophie clearly had evidence to the contrary. She reached up to a nearby shelf and took down an aerosol can. She shook it briskly and then squirted a huge quantity of foam into the palm of her hand before slathering it all over my head. I shivered at its coolness, and I quivered at the indescribable feeling against my skin.

Culmination

As Sophie thoroughly massaged the shaving foam into my scalp, ensuring none of my skin escaped her attention, I experienced an incredibly electrifying sensation. During the process, while not consumed by delirious pleasure, all I could think of was Erin doing the same to me in the privacy of my apartment.

Then, Sophie picked up the razor. I held my breath as she brought it to my head. The first stroke was smooth and clean, gliding across my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to relax. The scraping sound echoed around my skull. A strange, tingling sensation travelled down my spine.

Time seemed to stand still as she took her time to remove the foam and last vestiges of my hair. The scraping slowly transformed into a swishing sensation, and continued until my head was completely bare. Sophie gently wiped my head with a towel then took a small bottle from the shelf.

She poured a copious quantity of a viscous liquid into her palm, then applied it to my scalp. Using both hands cupped over the curve of my head, she rubbed the oil gently but firmly into my skin. My eyes closed. The sensation was exquisite. It felt like Sophie was polishing my scalp.

‘Okay, Catherine,’ the barber said, stepping back. ‘All done.’

Completion

I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror. I was bald. Completely and utterly bald. The first thing I noticed was that Sophie had polished my head to the ultimate gleaming shine. The second was that my ears stuck out, just like Erin had prophesised. But they looked fine and, more importantly, in proportion to the rest of my facial features.

I stared at myself, trying to process the image. It was shocking. Unfamiliar. And yet, strangely freeing. I felt like a new person. A blank canvas.

Erin came up behind me and wrapped her arms around me. ‘You look incredible,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘Absolutely stunning.’

I smiled. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was not so bad after all.

‘So,’ Sophie said nervously, breaking the silence. ‘What do you think?’

I looked at her, then back at myself in the mirror. ‘I think …’ I said, ‘I think I like it.’ The relief on Sophie’s face was palpable. I imagined she was worried that, after effecting such a drastic transformation, that I might burst into tears of regret. But I was far from doing that. And all credit to her, she avoided mentioning my ears.

I stood up and brushed away the snippets of hair that had collected on my dress. Erin picked up her phone that she had used for filming my makeover before conversing with Sophie. The barber selected items from her shelves, placed them in a bag that she handed to my girlfriend. Erin completed the balance of the payment, and I saw that she added a modest for Sophie that was well deserved.

Erin slipped on her leather jacket, then she stood behind me. As I admired myself in the mirror, she squeezed me once again. ‘See, I said you would like it,’ she stated confidently, holding up the bag. ‘And these are few little “toys” for you, so we can keep your head shining brightly.’

I turned around from the mirror and took Erin’s hand in mine.

Looking below the mirror, her eyes widening, Erin lifted my severed ponytail from the shelf and looked at me questioningly. I smiled and nodded, so she dropped my former hair into her bag of goodies. It suddenly looked much heavier.

‘Thank you, Sophie,’ I said with feeling, as the barber eased me into my denim jacket.

‘My pleasure … and I really do mean that,’ she said. ‘Come back any time for a touch up or, Erin, if you would like to emulate the appearance of your friend …’

‘We’ll see,’ my girlfriend giggled as we left the barbershop, hand in hand. ‘Bye!’ we chorused.

Epilogue

Outside the barbershop, Erin looked at me intensely and licked her lips seductively. ‘Would you still like to go to lunch down by the river, Cath.’

‘You must be joking, Erin,’ I replied. ‘Let’s go home and watch that video, then make sure my scalp is still shining … and, er, then see what develops.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ she giggled, putting her arm around me then encouraging her fingers to snake upwards to gently probe my bare scalp.

I felt Erin’s breath caressing my skin as she nibbled my ear and I felt the warmth of the sun on the top of my head. Both were completely different sensations to anything I had experienced before.

‘Home, Erin!’ I gently chided, eager for us to maximise our enjoyment of my transformation.

Erin giggled and took my hand, and we walked back through the lanes, ready for whatever the future held.

The End