Ensnared

“Alright.”

Elliot’s jaw clenched a little in concern, and he looked forward at his interviewer. “Yes?” Oh, no. Was something wrong?

Elliot was your average college graduate – coming from a normal family, with a normal degree, from a normal school. He’d found a job straight after graduating, one that he was pretty satisfied with, but because of the recession it hadn’t lasted all that long and he’d found himself unemployed. Ever since he’d been laid off earlier last month, he’d grown more and more desperate for a job. He was living by himself in a new city, with few friends and even fewer that were close enough to lend him money – so he really needed to find work. Every application he sent out, though, seemed like it came back a few weeks later as an automated rejection letter. It was depressing… and it was starting to weigh on him.  

That was why he’d been so overjoyed when one of the applications he’d sent out had finally come back with something other than “best wishes in your future endeavours”. He’d teared it open eagerly, pulled the letter out, and– they had actually seemed interested in him. Thank god. It was in a different state, an hour or so’s drive down south, but– well, he needed something, right? The hours looked workable, the benefits were great, and the pay certainly wasn’t bad either. Even if he hadn’t been desperate, it was a job he would have been happy to apply to. So as he drove down there, dressed in his best suit, he promised himself he’d do anything to get this job.

Which is why the troubled look on the interviewer’s face worried him so much. It was a distinguished older man in a shirt and suspenders, with glasses and a salt-and-pepper buzzcut. He had introduced himself as Frank Durham, a department head of the company. As Elliot watched, Frank shifted in his seat. He steepled his fingers, looking dubiously at Elliot behind his glasses, seemingly trying to phrase something in his head – or perhaps, looking over Elliot’s appearance, he suddenly realised.  

He tried not to squirm, thinking of what could be in the man’s mind. Was it too much? He had light brown, slightly wavy hair, and he kept it long, just past his shoulder blades. He knew there were people who would be turned off of him when they saw that, especially in more conservative circles. But right now, it was in a tidy ponytail down his back, and he was dressed neatly, freshly showered, looking good in his own eyes. He hoped Frank shared that opinion, or at least cared little enough about his appearance that it wouldn’t matter. Well… preferably the former.  

Finally, the older man spoke, and Elliot held his breath without realising.

Frank leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed, and said “There’s just one thing.” Oh, Elliot thought. Looks like he was getting his answer. His jaw clenched a little, and he braced for the worst. This was going to be another one of those interviews, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, we’ve had a lot of good candidates this time around, or Come back to us in five years when you have a little more experience. He was ready for it, he sighed to himself. He could live with it.

“Your hair.” The older man pointed to his ponytail, and Elliot blinked. Wait, what? “Uh… how do I put this?” Frank scratched his head, turning to the side for a moment before looking Elliott dead in the eye. “It doesn’t quite fit in. We’re a public-facing department, you see, and we like our employees to embody a certain, you know, image.” Yep. Okay. So he was being rejected yet again, just this time it was about his hair, instead of about his qualifications. What an excuse. He reached into his pocket, already getting out his car keys.

But instead of wishing him the best of luck in his future endeavours, Frank reached into his own pocket and pulled out a slip of cream-coloured paper. He glanced up from his desk with a stern but caring look in his eyes. “Look, kid, I think you could do well here. You just gotta sort out that hair.” He huffed out a breath as he took a pen out from the same pocket, scribbling an address.

Elliot blinked in surprise and felt some newfound hope flicker in his heart. “Really? You– you think so?” Something about this felt a little bit off, but he was so glad to finally be getting a job that he didn’t want to jinx it by asking any suspicious questions. He leaned forward, his hands on the edge of the desk, trying not to look too desperate.

“I do.” Frank was caught somewhat off-guard by Elliot’s enthusiasm, and smiled a little. Thank god, Elliot thought, he still had a chance. He watched as Frank wrote an address and a name out, and slid the slip of paper over to him with one hand. As Elliot went to take the slip of paper, their fingers just about touched. He tried not to react to it outwardly.  

He picked it up and read it carefully. “…Collins Barbershop?” Oh, he realised. Was this man really going to ask him to…? He… didn’t know how he felt about this. He felt his chest tighten a little, and he glanced up, more nervous than he had already been. 

Frank nodded, his eyes betraying a slight amusement. He slipped his pen elegantly back into his pocket. “I like the look of you, kid, don’t make me keep saying it. So I’m giving you an opportunity to prove me right. If you’re really committed to this job, I want you to drive to this address. I want you to ask for Louie, sit in on of those chairs, and tell him that Frank sent you to him to get tidied up. Tell him that you’re going to be working directly under me, so I need him to take you right down to a zero.” He didn’t break eye contact the entire time he was giving Elliot instructions.

Elliot told himself not to squirm, but… an older man, looking him in the eye and telling him exactly what to do? He got a little flustered – it was inevitable. Not to mention what he was being told to do in the first place. Go to a barbershop, and ask for something that he didn’t understand – what did “down to a zero” mean? He hadn’t had his hair cut by another person since high school – once he started growing his hair out, it was easy enough to trim, so he just did it himself in a mirror. So this would be his first time in a barbershop in– how many years…?

“Tell him to put it on my tab, too. Don’t you worry about that just yet.”  

Frank tilted his head languidly, and Elliot realised his anxiety had been showing on his face. “Oh. Um– sorry about that.” In that moment, looking at the attractive man in front of him, Elliot decided that he had to take the plunge here. How long had he been looking for a job, only to get nothing? And now, all that was standing between him and said job was… well, a trip to the barbershop. He steeled himself – he could do this. Surely, if something went wrong, the worst that would happen was that he’d need to get his hair cut short.  

“Thanks,” he said, shakily but confidently, and tucked the paper into his pocket. “I’ll– I’ll go do that, then.”  

“Attaboy,” chuckled Frank. He flipped through his pocketbook, and said, “Come back here in two hours, and I’ll do your onboarding.” The way he phrased that made it sound as though he knew Elliot wouldn’t refuse – and he was right. Elliot nodded, a little jerkily, and stood up from his chair. At a sharp look from Frank, he mumbled “Sorry,” and pushed his chair back in before leaving for his car.

And that was how Elliot, a man who had never so much as gone for a trim in the past five years, found himself driving to a barbershop two hours from his apartment. “Jeez,” he sighed to himself, looking at the size of the town that he’d arrived in. It was only half an hour or so from where he had had his interview, but that had been in the middle of a reasonably urban area. This place, on the other hand, seemed as though it had a saloon and a general store.

The parking lot that he was pulling into was in the middle of what looked like a small shopping district, though, with an actual supermarket. There was also what looked like a normal bar, and– ah. Right there, with a little red awning and the classic pole, was the Collins Barbershop. It had a sign in front, in big cursive writing, and the glass window showed one elderly man inside getting a shave.

Elliot paused, and took a moment to lean on his steering wheel. Was he really going to do this? For the sake of some job with some guy, he’d driven all the way out to some middle-of-nowhere town. He had instructions for some barber that he didn’t know, instructions that he didn’t understand, to get who knows what done to his hair…

But this looked like a good job! With good benefits, a decent salary, and he didn’t mind the drive. And he hadn’t been invited to any interviews besides this. And… he’d heard he’d get to work directly under Frank, which– well. It sounded kind of nice. If things went really wrong in that barbershop, he told himself again, he could just clean it up himself – cut it all to shoulder-length, or wherever, and start over. There was no way they’d go any further than that, right? So, trying to calm his heart, he stepped out of the car, and walked briskly into the barbershop. 

As he pushed the door open, a little bell rang, making everyone’s eyes turn to him for a split second. It seemed like a modest, but well-kept kind of place. There was a tile floor with a little drain in the corner, and lit mirrors lined one wall, opposite study red leather-and-metal chairs. There was a lady cleaning razors in the back, and a young barber in front of one of the chairs, finishing off that old man’s shave. “Oh. Louie! You got another customer!” shouted the woman, making Elliot jump a little.

“Alright, alright! One second.” After what was truly one second, Louie came out from the back. He was a tall man in his late thirties or early forties, with long red hair tied back in a bun, a neatly trimmed beard. Elliot realised he was wearing actual suspenders over a collared shirt and slacks. Wow, he thought, this was the most prototypical barbershop he’d ever seen, from the furniture down to the barbers themselves.  

“Hey there,” Louie called out to Elliot, and he walked right up to him, offering his hand in a jovial handshake. “You here for a haircut today? Looks to me like you’re in sore need of one,” he grinned.

Elliot blushed a little and took Louie’s hand, shaking it with both of his. Was his hair really that unkempt, he wondered? It couldn’t be – he’d never gotten this many comments on it before in one day. Usually, all he got were compliments, whether from his friends, family, or roommates. Maybe it was just a quirk of the area. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Um– Frank sent me here.” What had he said? Oh, right. “To get… tidied up. I’m going to be working directly under him,” and he blushed a little, to his chagrin, “and so he said to take me… down to a zero.”

“Oh, you’re Frank Durham’s new boy?” Something seemed to click in Louie’s mind, and he smirked, gripping Elliot’s hand a little tighter for one moment before he let go. “Sure. Go sit yourself down in that chair and I’ll be right with you. I think he’d want me to give him a call before I do anything I can’t take back,” he chuckled. He tipped his head toward the chair in the very front, right next to the window.

“Oh. Got it.” New boy? Louie’s phrasing made Elliot wonder if this was something Frank did with all his new hires. Maybe it was like a hazing thing, he thought uneasily, as he headed over to the chair and sat himself down. But then, even if it was – it was better than no job, he reminded himself. He was willing to sit through a little haircut if it meant this would work out for him.

Man, though. That window was… really close. He could see a young couple in the restaurant opposite, having their lunch, and an elderly woman walking from one shop to the next. If he could see them, he thought uneasily, they could probably see him too. He could see himself, even, through the mirror in front of him – a young man, brown hair, blue eyes. Nervous-looking. He chuckled at himself.

As he politely greeted the old man sitting next to him who he had also seen in the mirroe, Louie put his phone to his ear. “Hey, Frank. Your boy just came in asking for… yep… mhm. He said you wanted a zero – you think I can use a– great. And on top…? Uh huh. Yeah, that works nicely. Alright, see you in two weeks.” He smiled and hung up. As Elliot watched through the mirror, he walked over to the wall and picked up an apron with lots of tools in its pockets, then tied it neatly around his waist.  

Then, he sauntered his way over to Elliot’s seat, resting his hands on the backrest. “Alright now, Elliot. Frank’s given me a pretty good idea of what he wants on you.” Louie drummed his hands playfully on said backrest, smirking a little. “And I have to say, I agree – this is an awful lot of hair.” Elliot’s lips parted slightly as Louie ran his hand through Elliot’s brown, wavy ponytail. “How far does it go down? Mid-back?”

“Uh– about to the bottom of my shoulder blades,” Elliot said, “but I haven’t checked in a little while…” God, he thought, what was going on? First his prospective boss, and now this guy… they both had this particular way of acting that made him feel as though he should be blushing. Was he blushing? He hoped he wasn’t blushing. He looked in the mirror at his own face – no, he wasn’t. Thank goodness. 

“Mmhm.” Louie, mercifully, stopped stroking Elliot’s hair. He raised an eyebrow, though, rubbing a little of it between his fingers. “I’d even say it was closer to mid-back… and I can see a few split ends now, looking closely. I’m glad you’re here getting your hair cut – we’ll be getting rid of all those today,” he grinned, which didn’t do Elliot’s nerves any favours. “Let’s get you caped up, and then we can start.” 

Louie grabbed a cape and a little slip of paper from a nearby stand, and quickly wrapped the strip of paper around the top of Elliot’s neck. Elliot looked down in confusion, wondering what that was supposed to do, but Louie was already throwing the cape around the rest of Elliot’s body. “Um– what’s that for?” he asked, gulping a little as the cape was secured tightly around his neck.  

“What? Oh, the neck strip,” Louie smiled. “Well, we don’t want any little bits of hair going down the back of your neck, do we?” It was a foreboding answer, and Elliot wasn’t satisfied – but he didn’t want to press this man further, so he left it. He was getting suspicious of Louie… just what was going to happen to him here?  

Louie’s hands were firm and confident as they adjusted the cape so that it covered Elliot’s whole body – then, he set about examining Elliot’s ponytail. “Other than the split ends, it looks like you maintain this pretty well. What do you do to take care of it?”

“N-nothing, really. You know, I wash it every couple days, and condition it whenever I wash it. That’s about it,” said Elliot. It was a little hard for him to keep a straight face, though, because Louie was feeling over Elliot’s ponytail with one of his hands, carefully, as if he was doing it for fun. 

Louie stopped after a moment, though, and tugged the hairband down Elliot’s hair just a little bit, so that it was sitting just in the middle of his neck. “Well, that’s alright, then– by the time we’re done here, you won’t need to use that conditioner for a little while.”  

“I’m sorry, what do you mean?”  

Elliot tried to turn back, his eyes widening, but Louie just took his head firmly and turned him back to face the mirror. “Ah– easy there, boy. Don’t want to cut you accidentally if you move,” he warned. The glint to his eye, though, suggested it was a little more than that.  

“Um… okay,” replied Elliot. One of his hands gripped the chair’s arm, feeling the urge to leave creep up inside him.  

And then, Louie brought a pair of scissors right up to his neck, above his ponytail. “Stay still, you hear?” was the only warning Elliot received before he started cutting.  

Elliot stared at himself in shock. What…? No way this was happening. He could hear the low, scraping sound of the scissors as they sawed away at the hair that he’d been growing for years. With each cut, one cold blade of the scissors touched the back of his neck, the shortened ends of more and more hair rested on his bare skin. “U-um– I– I don’t–”  

“Easy there, boy,” Louie purred, keeping hold of Louie’s ponytail. “You’ll like this when I’m done, trust me. All that long hair… you’ll look so much better without it, hm?” Elliot didn’t know what right this man had to speak to him like this, but his first and only reaction was to blush, for real this time.

And Louie noticed. “Well, would you look at that. Looks like you’re that type of guy, aren’t you?” As he grinned, he made one, two final snips – and the ponytail came right off in his hand.  

“Oh my god,” said Elliot, but Louie was unperturbed as he placed it on the counter in front of Elliot’s chair, like a trophy. He stared forward at himself – his hair came up to his chin now, swinging in some kind of bob. An uneven one, too… no way so much had just been cut all at once. Was this really happening? 

Louie just continued with what he had been saying, as if nothing had happened. “Makes sense doesn’t it? What with the long hair and all… but now it’s all gone.” He put the scissors back into his apron, and then had the audacity to reach up and run both of his hands all the way up through Elliot’s newly-shortened hair. Elliot had the urge to cover his face with his hands, but with the cape on, he couldn’t… he could do nothing but see his own blush deepening, feel Louie’s nails running gently over his scalp. “‘Course, we’re nowhere near done yet, but it’s nice to see you squirm.”

“What–? You can’t– say that…”

“Oh, can’t I?” The elderly man was long gone by now – Elliot hadn’t noticed him leaving – and so were the woman and young barber, leaving the two of them alone in the barbershop. That didn’t mean they weren’t still right next to a window, though, being watched by whoever felt like glancing in, whoever felt like watching some man run his hands through some other man’s hair, a man who was clearly being aroused by all this. Elliot groaned with dismay as Louie continued, “Seems to be like you’re just fine with all this… better than fine, even. Or am I wrong?” Elliot glanced up, scandalised, but didn’t answer, and Louie clicked his tongue.  

As if to confirm what he’d said, Louie ran his hands right down next to Elliot’s scalp, gripped, and pulled. Softly, but firmly, back towards himself – and fuck, that felt good. Elliot heard himself moan softly, his eyes widening with equal parts surprise and embarrassment, and Louie just smirked and let go. “See? Now… just sit pretty like you’ve been doing, and I’ll tidy you up real nice for Frank. I have a feeling you’re going to love working for him.” He picked up his scissors again and, overcome, Elliot could do nothing but sit still, just like he’d been told to.

Taking his time, Louie sectioned out the top of Elliot’s hair and tied it in a bun at the top of his head. Oh, Elliot thought, at least there was some sort of style to what he was doing. That was reassuring. Louie cleared his throat, though, and took a handful of Elliot’s now-chin-length hair to the left, lifting it up. As Elliot watched, Louie’s scissors drew further and further in. Four inches… two inches… one inch… what? He wanted to pull away, but Louie had the scissors so close to his scalp now that he was worried he’d cut himself if he moved. His back was bolt-straight, and his breathing shallowed as the scissors closed – oh, Louie was just cutting it as short as he could, shaping or styling or anything else be damned. He was just– cutting it right at the scalp… “W-wait– that’s really short–“

“Sure is,” Louie said, casually putting the handful of hair on the counter in front, beside the ponytail. Elliot gawked at what was left. It was just… fluff, if it could even be called that, or maybe even stubble, sticking up awkwardly sideways. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since his hair had been his short. had it ever been this short? Holy shit. Elliot felt his breath quickening, and at the same time, felt a familiar heat pool in his gut. No, he despaired to himself, he’d been thrown into this with barely a warning and now– now he was… 

Louie moved on to the next section of hair, cutting it off slowly and methodically, right next to the scalp like the last time, and said, “Look at it this way. You don’t want to be up early every morning doing your hair when you could be in the office, do you? Frank likes his boys to be low-maintenance… and let’s face it, that long ponytail wasn’t it. Now that it’s this short, you can just wash it and be out the door! Nice and easy.”

That sounded like an excuse to torment him, honestly, but he didn’t want to piss this guy off and risk having those scissors slip accidentally. So he just watched, flushed redder and redder, as the pile of hair in front of him grew… and grew… and grew. Louie’s hands worked fast – he cut steadily and evenly up the sides and back of Elliot’s head, and that fuzz that had so shocked him the the first time spread, little by little, the whole way around.  

Most of his hair was gone, he realised, biting back a squeak. Only the hair on top of his head had any sort of length, even though it only went down to his chin. The rest was… unsalvageable. He could– maybe he could bring the rest of his hair down, hide the cut parts that way…  

He didn’t know what Louie’s plan was. He could only anticipate. His eyes followed Louie’s every move as the man looked down at his apron, and went to pick something up – but paused, and went back to his scissors. “You know what. Why don’t we get the rest of this off first?”  

Oh no, he’s going even shorter, groaned Elliot to himself as Louie returned. Louie, still holding those terrible scissors from earlier, approached the top of his head with them. He instinctively tried to pull away. Louie, however, simply grabbed him by the tail he’d made on top of Elliot’s head. “Cold feet, huh?” He chuckled, sounding much more good-natured than his actions would suggest. Elliot struggled weakly, but Louie’s hand held him firmly in place as those scissors approached. 

And they hit their mark. Louie stuck the scissors under the hairband and started sawing away at the hair underneath, and Elliot could do nothing but gape open-mouthed and hope he didn’t react in any more embarrassing ways. “That’s–” he breathed shakily, “you– you can’t do that…” 

“Can’t I?” Louie smirked, making the last few snips and lifting the little tail off of Elliot’s head. Elliot’s head sprang forward with the tension, making him a little dizzy, but Louie just continued “Looks like I just did. Don’t worry – once I’m done, you’ll get used to it in no time.” Which meant he wasn’t done – oh, god. Elliot righted himself and looked in the mirror. Already, the longest hair on Elliot’s head was maybe two inches long, if even that. It was all on top, with the sides cut as short as scissors could take them – and the unevenness of the remaining hair meant that it was clearly going to be taken down further.  

Oh, god. Elliot felt his cock pulse with heat, and knew he’d gotten into something way above his head – but by now it was much too late to stop. Did he have a boner? He didn’t want to feel it and check – just having to consider that felt like admitting he liked this more than he wanted to, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he actually was hard right now. 

Louie, meanwhile, took out… clippers. Elliot’s eyes went wide. This wasn’t short enough already? There was a long guard on them, but Louie took it and popped it right off with a sort of relish that made Elliot squirm a little. He was taking his time with it, humming and hawing, ogling Elliot’s head more than was at all normal… but he finally seemed to come to a decision.  

“Mm… you know what?” He tapped the clippers once on his opposite hand, making eye contact with Elliot through the mirror. “Frank said to take you down to a zero… but I like the colour of your hair, so this is a number 2.” He made sure Elliot was looking, then popped an alarmingly short guard onto the clippers. “I hope you’re grateful,” he said.

Elliot didn’t understand what he meant by ‘grateful’. That was barely anything! Right now, the hair on the top of his head was leaning a little, but he could tell that it wouldn’t part or stay down reliably if he tried to do that. To take it even shorter… well, he didn’t want to leave it uneven, but so much of his hair was already gone, and his head already felt noticeably lighter than it had at the beginning of the haircut. He couldn’t imagine even more being cut off.  

Even with how he felt, it seemed like Louie was done letting Elliot struggle. At the slightest sign of movement from Elliot, Louie simply reached around and grabbed Elliot’s chin from behind, and Elliot felt another pulse of arousal go all the way down his spine. No. This couldn’t be how he found out he was into– this… he wouldn’t let it.

Louie was careful with the clippers, but he was thorough. He went over the entire top of Elliot’s head, taking it all down to a uniform quarter-inch. He went around the edges, each corner of Elliot’s head – by the time he was done, Elliot realised with some alarm, even the sides of his head were longer than the top. The sides, that Louie had taken as short as he could with the scissors – he had even less hair than that on the top of his head. It was so short that Elliot wondered if he’d be able to see his scalp through it, just by bending down – it looked the wrong way around, like this. No way – there was no way Louie would be finished here… without thinking about the implications of his actions, he glanced up at Louie with alarm, wondering if he was really just going to leave it like it was.

Louie’s expression changed to something a little sinister, though, and Elliot instantly realised he’d made the wrong move. “Oh? What is it, boy? You want to go even shorter?” He grinned, and slowly let go of Elliot’s chin – he’d planned on taking the back and sides down anyway, of course, but he enjoyed giving Elliot the impression that he was somehow at fault for this. He watched Elliot gape at him with some amount of amusement, and while he had Elliot’s gaze, made a little show of popping the guard off of his clippers. “That can be arranged. Now… head down.” Louie, being the type of person that he was, just grabbed the top of Elliot’s head and bent it as far forward as he could go. Then, he started buzzing a stripe of hair up the back of Elliot’s head.

Oh, no. Elliot shivered – he could feel every bit of this now, without the guard to block his skin from the buzz of the clippers. The metal warmed his skin, strip by strip, as his hair was peeled off… Louie worked from the centre out to the right side, going over each buzzed patch a few times to make sure everything was cleaned up.

Elliot, well – he knew it was short, but Louie had his head too far down for him to see well, and besides, he wouldn’t have been able to see the back of his own head anyway. But as Louie buzzed him down with careful efficiency, eventually he got to one of the sides – and oh, lord, that was bare skin. Elliot could see his own scalp through a faint bristle of buzzed hair. He gasped softly, even pressed down as he was, and Louie chuckled. “This is going to need maintaining every couple of weeks, you know – so you’d better get used to this feeling.”

Elliot, in all his shock, still couldn’t look away as Louie rid the sides of his head of nearly all their hair. If not for the tiny fuzz of hair on top of his head, he would have looked like some kind of prison inmate… oh, lord. He stared at his own reflection, thoroughly horrified, terribly conflicted by what was definitely a semi down in his pants. Louie, though, seemed very pleased with his own handiwork. “Nice and simple style, huh?” He had bent Elliot’s head to the side now, and was holding one of his ears down as he buzzed around it. “Pretty easy for anyone to replicate. Could even have it done in your lunch break at work.”

Finally, he buzzed the last strip of hair to the side of Elliot’s head, and put his hands to his hips. “There we go. Why don’t you take a proper look at yourself?” Elliot… kind of didn’t want to see… but there was no avoiding it eventually, and with the strength of Louie’s hands, Elliot thought he’d have no trouble enforcing his ‘request’. So Elliot looked, dreading what he would see.

“Oh my god.” Elliot’s eyes were wide as he took it just how much of his hair was gone – namely, all of it. Basically, all of it, anyway. There was a short patch of fuzz on the top of his head, but the sides and back were buzzed down to almost nothing – and Louie had taken the sides and back high. Much higher than he’d originally made the ponytail. He almost looked like he had some kind of short landing strip down the middle of his head… not a mohawk, not really, but it looked uncompromisingly severe. “Holy shit.” He had so many more thoughts in his head about this, but the shock tied his tongue, so he just stared up at Louie, dumbstruck.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Louie ruffled his hair, and fuck, he hadn’t realised that that would feel good. He twitched and his eyelids fluttered in response, and Louie looked down. “Oho. Now look who’s enjoying this.” Elliot prayed to every god in existence that Louie wouldn’t continue down this train of thought, and Louie– well, he grabbed the back of Elliot’s now-nearly-bare head and squeezed, and said “I think you’re going to enjoy working for Frank – and I bet Frank’s going to enjoy making use of you.”  

But he let go, and moved away, and it looked like he was ending that topic of conversation. Elliot looked around, wondering if he could go now – oh, no. Louie was coming back, holding a razor and a bowl. He grinned at Elliot’s shocked expression, and slapped him on the shoulder. “What, you didn’t think I was going to leave it there, did you? I told you already, I left the top of your head longer than Frank wanted it… and this,” he rubbed above Elliot’s ear, “is a zero, so I need to make it up to him somewhere. So I’m going to take you right down to the skin.”  

Louie grabbed something out of the bowl – oh, it was a brush – and started lathering up the sides of Elliot’s head with shaving foam. He started at the nape of Elliot’s neck, but as Elliot watched, it went higher, and higher, and higher – until it was nearly as high up as the zero buzz. Oh, god, he was actually going to be mostly bald. “Please don’t take it that far up,” he managed to bed, his voice so small and high that it might have been a whimper. “I don’t– I can’t–“

“No buts,” Louie grinned. “You’ll sit there and take this – because I know you’re not really begging me to stop. You want to work for Frank, don’t you? And, well…” He glanced pointedly down at Elliot’s crotch, making him flush bright red. “You don’t want me to stop. I can tell as much.” Elliot… well, he gaped at Louie, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the man’s face, so eventually he just looked down and said nothing, and Louie pat the top of his head twice. “Would you look at that. Finally being a little bit more honest to yourself. Now just sit pretty like you’ve been doing, and I’ll shave you up nice and clean, alright?” 

Then Louie, taking his time, flipped open the razor and ran his thumb over Elliot’s scalp, making it nice and tense for him to shave. Elliot could feel the soft foam all over his head, feel a cold breeze around the edges – and now, that firm hand again, keeping his head at exactly the angle that Louie wanted, the thumb firmly pressing into his skull. And then, the cold blade of the razor, scraping over his skin, removing what little hair he had left there. He was stock still, afraid of getting cut, his breath shallow and quick into his own chest.  

Louie went slowly, but as thoroughly as he had with the clippers. Elliot didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in that same chair, helpless to resist as Louie took his hair down shorter and shorter, and now was removing the very last of it entirely. At least over most of his head. He just sat there as Louie felt over his stubble again and again, freeing more and more of his scalp to feel the cold barbershop air-conditioning on his bare skin.  

The razor went everywhere, gradually, carefully – he froze as Louie brought it right next to his ear, shaving off the pitiful remains of his sideburn. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” Louie laughed, “I’ve been doing this for years. I might be pressing a little harder than usual, but, well… I just want to give you as close a shave as I can. I know Frank will appreciate it – and you will too, eventually.” He scraped the razor up firmly, clearing the very last bit of stubble from Elliot’s skin. “There. All done.” 

He whisked a towel off his shoulder and wiped all the foam off of Elliot’s head, and – oh, lord. If he had thought he was bald before… There was no hair left on the sides of his head. Just– none. It was almost as if hair had never grown there in the first place, if he hadn’t been able to see the slightly paler skin where it had just been. The hair on top of his head looked comically small now, compared to the long locks he’d had before coming in, and it was so short that the light brown colour of it looked darker.  

Louie brushed any little hairs off of Elliot’s head and shoulders with his hand, then whisked off his cape with a flourish. “There. All done.” Elliot blinked, and stared at himself. He was wearing the same suit as before, but without his hair, his whole face looked different. He looked different.

“You don’t owe me anything – not that you were going to ask, probably,” Louie smirked. “Frank told me to put it on his tab. I imagine he’ll want you to pay him back.” 

Louie turned back behind him, and grabbed… was that a paper bag? For reasons Elliot couldn’t understand, he scraped Elliot’s ponytail into the paper bag, along with all the hair he’d cut off at the beginning, then folded it closed and placed it on Elliot’s lap. “Bring that back to Frank for me, will you? I think he’d appreciate it.”  

Back to Frank… oh, right. Frank had wanted him back for onboarding. Oh, god, he’d gotten the job. That all seemed so far away, but– that was what he’d done this for in the first place, wasn’t it? For a job… in a little bit of a daze, he nodded.

“Good on you.” Louie smiled and lightly slapped the back of his bare head, and Elliot squeaked, not expecting that sensation on his scalp. “Heh. You’ll be getting a lot of that in the next couple days,” Louie said, “so I hope you like the feeling of it. Now get on out of my chair, you won’t want to be late for Frank.” 

And thus, Elliot drove back into Frank’s office the same way he’d driven to Louie’s barbershop – only with a lot less hair on his head, and a lot more of it in a paper bag. How’d things get this way, he wondered? He parked his car in the same place he had for his interview, and started heading out – but had to double back after a moment, because he’d forgotten his bag of hair. Great, he thought – there was no way Frank would actually want this, right? This was some sort of prank from Louie. But then, everything else that had happened today was so strange that he didn’t trust his own instincts to tell him how Frank would react. So he sighed, and continued into the lobby and up the lift, paper bag in hand. 

Now, for the second time in the day, he knocked on Frank’s door. “Um… I’m back, Fr– Mr. D– Um. For onboarding,” he clarified hastily. He didn’t know what to call the guy, so he’d aborted his multiple attempts – he’d never actually had a boss before. Would it be rude to call him by his first name? Or was it the opposite, and would calling him Mr. Durham insult him by implying he was old?

“Come in,” Frank said, and Elliot supposed he’d need to answer that question eventually. For now, though, he had his job. He turned the doorknob slowly, and let himself in, his eyes meeting Frank’s at his desk. He closed the door behind him. “I– I went to the barbershop,” he said, redundantly.

“That’s obvious enough, kid,” Frank said, in that low voice of his. “Louie called me just now to confirm you’d been to him – and besides. Look at you.” Frank beckoned Elliot over with a languid wave of his hand, and Elliot obeyed, not really knowing what he needed to be so close for.

When Elliot approached, Frank motioned for him to crouch down, and then casually reached up and rubbed at the side of his head. Elliot shivered, his blush reappearing – that freshly-shaved skin was so sensitive, so to have someone stroke it like Frank was doing now… well, it felt really good. “Took you right down to the skin, hm?” Frank seemed to think for a moment, then smiled darkly. “Louie had the right idea, I think. You look good with this kind of cut… short and disciplined. Nice and tidy.” 

Elliot didn’t want to understand what Frank meant, but he knew he didn’t look objectively better with his hair this short. If anything, he looked worse. But – looking at himself in the mirror before, he’d realised that he looked a little more innocent like this, with his hair off his face. Vulnerable. Maybe that was what Frank enjoyed… so he just dipped his head and murmured a soft “Thank you.” “Um,” he remembered, “Louie gave me this for you – he said you’d want it.” He held up the bag, his hand just a little shaky. 

Frank took it firmly. “What’s this?” He took his hand away from Elliot’s head, unfolded it, opened it to see Elliot’s wavy locks piled up inside. “Oh.” Slowly, he let himself smile, a subtle, predatory kind of grin. “Well. Louie knows my preferences, I suppose.” He folded the bag right back up, put it in his drawer, stood to his full height.  

He turned back around and took Elliot’s chin gently, and Elliot’s breath caught in his throat. Frank was… tall, at least half a head taller than him, and the short distance between them meant he had to look up to see Frank’s face. “Good boy.” Frank’s other hand reached out, and gave the top of Elliot’s head a gentle scratch – and fuck, that felt good. Elliot’s knees went a little weak, and his eyelashes fluttered, trying not to react too much – but it was clear that Frank had noticed his enjoyment.

“Now,” he said, still holding onto Elliot’s chin. “I heard you out there, stuttering – it sounded like you were trying to figure out what to call me.” That smile of his widened, and he looked Elliot dead in the eye. “‘Round these parts, we don’t call our elders and betters by name – we call them sir. You got that?” 

Oh, Elliot realised. He looked up at Frank, wondering if Frank was hinting at what he thought he was hinting at – and got nothing back in return but a confident smirk and a raised eyebrow. Frank let go of Elliot’s chin, and he immediately ducked his head. “Y– yes, sir.” Oh, man. He hoped he wasn’t blushing too badly. 

“That’s it. I knew you were a good kid from the moment you came into my office – I think you’re going to do very well here.” Frank, instead of getting closer, walked back to his desk. He pulled his chair out and sat down, a little askew, his legs splayed open lazily. “Now. I paid for that haircut of yours, didn’t I?”  

Elliot nodded, his eyes unable to leave Frank’s face, his body. His whole demeanor was Elliot’s utter opposite – confident. Dominant. He thought he’d manage working this job… pretty well. “Yes, sir,” he said again, this time a little more steadily.

Frank patted the inside of his thigh, his eyes glinting. “Why don’t you come here and thank me for it, then?” The way his eyes flicked down to the floor told Elliot everything he needed to know.

And as Elliot walked over slowly and knelt before Frank, he got the feeling that he’d enjoy it here.