New Boss, New Job
Anne Hanover sat nervously behind the desk she had occupied for just over three years, ever since she had inherited control of her father’s company. That was about to change. She glanced down at her Cartier watch, shaking her head at the foolish extravagance. Had she known that the finances were on such shaky ground, she never would have been so cavalier.
It was only at the previous month’s board meeting that she discovered the shady investments her finance team had made. It was then that she learned of the bid to take over the company. Shen Lu Enterprises was an international firm, worth billions, and standing up to them would have been expensive and foolhardy.
Hostile, in terminology only, Shen Lu at least had no intention of breaking up the company. It had taken her father thirty-three years to build the paper manufacturing company from a small three-room operation into a multi-million-dollar company. Now, in less than thirty-seven months, everything he did lay in ruins at her feet.
Anne tried not to take on all of the blame, although being the CEO, it was her responsibility to know what went on inside the walls of her own company. The trust in her CFO and his cronies had been her biggest mistake.
Now, she was about to meet the newly appointed CEO of Hanover Mills, and she worried what might lay in store, not only for her, but many of her executives. Of course, the first to go, and by her hand, was Bradley Milks. ‘How appropriate a name,’ she thought. He had ‘milked’ the company for hundreds of thousands of dollars, sheltering it outside the country and well out of reach.
Expecting at least a knock, she was surprised when a tall dark woman entered, pushing through the door as if nothing could stop her. Anne was caught off guard, standing to address the apparent impertinence.
“You must be Miss Hanover.” The woman assumed, setting her leather satchel down on the opposite side of Anne’s desk.
“I am, and you are?” Anne tentatively held out her hand, but it was ignored as the woman pushed to her side of the desk. Not knowing what else to do, she stepped to the side, whereupon the woman immediately sat, in the chair she had just been warming.
“Have a seat, Miss Hanover.” The woman indicated one of the club chairs on the opposite side of the desk. Still flustered, Anne obliged. “My name is Yuja Shen, but you may refer to me as Miss Shen.” Seeing the bewildered look on Anne’s face, she continued. “I am the new CEO of Hanover Mills.”
“Miss Shen.” Anne managed, although she was more than a bit shaken by the abrupt manner in which she was treated.
“I imagine your first concern will be whether you will still have a job.” Yuja offered, dragging her brief across the mahogany desktop, roughly.
“I would be lying to say it was not a concern of mine.” Anne winced, not wanting to reveal just how much of a concern it had been. Her thoughts immediately went to her waterfront condominium, and her Mercedes, not to mention the lifestyle she had grown accustomed to.
“You will be happy to learn that I have decided to keep you on as my personal assistant.” Yuja smiled with the offer. “Of course, my company has supplied me with several lieutenants, so your duties will be strictly personal.”
Anne regarded the woman closely for the first time since she had arrived. She was truly striking. Although she was of Asian descent, her features were decidedly western, as though she had had work done to create them. Her long blonde hair was most certainly not her natural color, but it looked very good on her.
“Personal Assistant?” Anne questioned. “What will that entail?”
“You know the deal, Miss Hanover. A woman in my position needs someone to do her bidding, run errands, pick up dry-cleaning, that sort of thing.” Yuja remarked, bitingly.
“What if that’s not what I want?” Anne pressed, not sure where it might go.
“Well, you are certainly free to go, but that is the only position I am prepared to offer you at this time.” Yuja pressed the button on the intercom. “Miss Hanover would like to go, Miss Brooks. Can you see she is escorted off the property?”
Barbara Brooks slipped into the room, taking a position directly behind her former boss. She didn’t enjoy doing what she was about to do. Anne had hired her, after all. Now she was about to kick her out of, what had only weeks before, been her company. “I’m sorry, Miss Hanover.”
“What if I accept your offer, Miss Shen?” Anne sighed, left with few other options.
“Off the table.” She motioned for Barbara to escort Anne out of her office.
“Please.” Anne practically begged.
“Can you leave us for a moment, Miss Brooks,” Yuja said, softly. Once the secretary was out of the room, Yuja circled around the desk and stood. “Beg.”
“What?” Anne managed, almost in shock.
“Get down on your knees and beg, Miss Hanover.” Yuja stepped forward so she was only a foot away.
Anne didn’t know what possessed her, but she found herself sliding out of the chair and onto her knees. Overwhelmed by her own actions, she struggled over what to do next, so she blurted out the only thing that came to her addled mind. “Please, Miss Shen, may I please have the job.” She knew her face must have turned fifty shades of red.
“You’re not very convincing. Bend down and kiss the tip of my shoe.” Smirking, Yuja put her right foot forward, expectantly.
Shocked by the demand, Anne’s mouth opened. She knew she wanted to say something, anything. Instead, she watched in horror as her body bent to the will of this woman. Anne could feel her control slipping away as she pursed her lips, touching them to the polished leather tip of Yuja’s Louboutins.
“Good. Now say it, Miss Hanover. Beg to be my personal assistant.” Yuja smiled, as Anne continued to grovel.
“Please, Miss Shen, I’m begging you to make me your personal assistant.” Anne managed, her mouth still only inches away from Yuja’s foot. The sudden realization of her submission was horrifying to her.
“It’s not an easy job. Are you sure you’re up to it?” Yuja pressed, knowing how cruel she was being. ‘This was the CEO of this company,’ she thought, ‘and here she is, begging for a job that no one in their right mind would want.’
Without being asked, Anne kissed Yuja’s shoe. “Please.”
“Very well. Let’s have a look at you.” Yuja relented.
Anne, completely deflated, slowly got to her feet. She stood, while Yuja walked around her, performing an impromptu inspection.
“These clothes are not practical. Take the rest of the day and buy some clothing more suited to your station. Try Target or Walmart.” Yuja suggested, totally serious. Anne winced at the notion of wearing cheap clothing, but after what she had just stooped to, even those were probably more than she deserved.
Anne felt Yuja pull at the oversized bun at the top of her head. In the next instant, Anne’s waist-length hair came tumbling over her shoulders. No one at the company had ever seen her with her hair down. She blushed at the idea.
“Also, impractical. I like my assistants to have hair that is short and neat. Have it cut by tomorrow, and do not disappoint me.” Yuja demanded.
Anne’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She had worn her hair long since she was a child. Now this woman wanted her to cut it off. “Can’t I just wear it up?”
“I don’t think you understand, Miss Hanover. As my personal assistant, you do exactly as I say. There is no bargaining.” Yuja felt this was a good opportunity to instruct her new charge on the breadth of her authority. “You are to go to a barbershop immediately.”
“A barbershop?” Anne was almost weeping.
“Am I not being heard? When you get there, call the switchboard and ask for me. Is that clear, or do I need to rescind my offer already?”
Anne shook her head, adamantly. “Perfectly clear, Miss Shen.”
“Good. Now get going!” Yuja pointed towards the door. Once Anne was gone, Yuja sat back in her chair and chuckled to herself. “I wonder if she’ll actually go through with it.” Picking up her cell, she called her father.
Anne rushed out into the parking lot, still dizzy from her experience at the hands of Yuja Shen. She looked at her car, still parked in her personally labeled spot, wondering how she would ever afford it on the salary Miss Shen would be paying her. Then it occurred to her, that she had no idea what the job paid. Surely it was lucrative enough to keep her relatively comfortable.
A Random Barbershop
As daunting as it was, Anne climbed into her Mercedes and set about looking for a barbershop. As she drove away from the plant, she deviated from the route she normally took, heading into a seedier part of town.
She had never been inside a barbershop and had no idea what to expect. She knew they were normally reserved for men, and she worried that they would have no idea what to do with hair such as hers.
As she rounded a corner, she spotted the telltale pole spinning away, its red and white stripes the only clue as to the nature of the place. Tucked between a hardware store and a pizzeria, she eyed the place suspiciously. ‘Is it even open?’ Anne wondered.
Parking her car in the first available spot, Anne sat for a moment, contemplating what she was about to do. For a moment, she thought about driving away. ‘Was any job really worth this?’ She wondered.
Before she could think about it for too long, she forced herself out of the car and up to the door of the barbershop. Anne wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but it was long enough for one of the men to take notice.
“You lost, Miss?” The man asked.
Anne looked at him, panicked, not sure what to do. “I need a haircut.” She finally said.
The man looked her up and down, seeing the waist-length blonde hair that billowed away from her in the breeze. She seemed confused. “There’s a salon right down the street, lady.”
“No. It has to be a barbershop.” Anne managed, her hands shaking with nervous anticipation.
“If you say so.” The man opened the door wider, allowing her space to slip around him.
Once inside, she didn’t know what to do. She looked around at the strange environment. A long row of chairs lined one wall, all facing three large swivel chairs. A row of plate glass mirrors lined the wall, and made the place look larger than it was. Another man sat, his feet up and a newspaper opened to hide his face, the smoke from what must have been a cigar, drifting up and over his head.
“Have a seat then, I guess.” The man said. His hair had either been shaved off, or he was naturally bald. Judging by the shine on his head, Anne figured it was a combination of the two. Suddenly remembering, she pulled out her phone, dialing the number she knew by heart.
“Hanover Mills, how can I help you?” The young woman’s voice asked.
“I need to speak with Yuja Shen, please.” Anne directed, the man looking at her impatiently.
“May I ask who is calling?”
“This is Anne Hanover.” She said, having never had to navigate the company switchboard before.
“Miss Hanover. I’m sorry. Just one minute.” The phone clicked, and then began to ring.
Yuja was just adjusting a few things on her new desk, having disposed of Anne’s personal effects, when the phone rang. “Yes, Miss Brooks?”
“I have Anne Hanover on the line. Do you want to take the call?” Barbara asked.
Yuja chuckled. No one had ever actually taken things this far before. She had tried this at every other company her father had put her in charge of, but no one had gotten past the begging part much less this. “Yes, I’ll take it.” Yuja cleared her throat. “Yuja Shen.”
“Miss Shen? I’m here. I’m at the barbershop.” Anne’s voice shook audibly.
Yuja had to cover the receiver to stifle a laugh. Struggling to compose herself, she spoke. “Hand your phone to the barber.”
The man stood and looked at her for a moment before taking the phone, holding it up to his hairless head. “Yes?”
Anne could hear some talking on her phone, but it was unintelligible. She could see the man’s eyebrows go up in surprise before he handed the phone back to her.
“Miss Shen?” Anne waited for a moment, but she had already hung up.
“Alright then, young miss. I’ve got my instructions.” He turned the chair in her direction, throwing a red and white checked cape over his shoulder. “Get in the chair.” He said, with more authority. “Your boss says I’m not to take any guff from you.”
She walked, straight-legged to the chair and climbed onto the chrome footplate. Off-balance for a moment, she fell back into the large chair, which enveloped her completely. Anne wasn’t a tall woman, her slight frame and delicate features made her look like a child in the oversized chair.
“You’re a pretty girl. Why’re you doing this?” The man asked, as he wrapped the cape around her shoulders. “Hold your hair up.” He demanded, tersely. Taken aback by the authority the bald man seemed to wield suddenly, Anne obliged. She felt a stretchy piece of crepe paper wrap around her neck, only to be held fast by the cape, gathered almost too tightly around her neck.
“Miss Shen likes her personal assistants to have short hair.” Anne sighed, as the man pulled her hair out as if to inspect its length.
“Yes, she made that quite clear.” The man admitted, pulling a pair of scissors from his pocket.
Anne felt the barber gather her hair and tug downwards, her head pulled back with the pressure. Then the cold steel of the scissors rested menacingly against the top of her neck. She felt, more than she heard the ‘crunch’ of the blades as they dug into her precious hair, the sensation seeming to translate to her skull. Each time the blades closed, the pitch of the crunch grew higher until her head flew forward, released from the burden of her hair.
Walking around her, the barber carefully laid the impressive length of hair on the counter. After securing it with some rubber bands he had scavenged from a drawer, he returned. “Your boss said I could keep the hair. Hair like that, probably worth a few hundred bucks.”
Anne reached back from under the cape, feeling the blunt ends of her drastically abbreviated locks, annoyed over the idea of this guy profiting from her misery. “Are we done?” She asked.
“Done?” He chortled. “We’re just getting started, sweetheart.”
She watched, frozen, as the barber lifted a set of clippers from under the counter. Attaching something to them he rotated the chair, so she faced the enormous mirror.
“Your boss insisted that you watch.” He reported, as the clippers whined to life behind her.
Anne felt the vibration of the clippers as they touched the nape of her neck, the warm steel pressing upward until the pitch shifted lower. As they climbed the back of her head, the shock of what was happening started to hit her. Anne could hear the hanks of hair hitting the floor as they tumbled away from her head.
Each pass of the clippers seemed to pull away just before reaching the top of her head. With no hair to cover it, Anne could feel the air moving against the back of her head. It was the strangest feeling she had ever experienced.
Slowly, the barber moved to the sides, removing the hair behind and then in front of her ears, leaving them naked for the first time in her life. She thought how ridiculous it was that she could see her ears, the tips pink from her embarrassment.
When the clippers fell silent, the only hair left on Anne’s head was a longish tuft that stood out at angles from her crown. She stared into the mirror, thinking how hideous she looked.
Changing the little metal attachment on the clippers, the barber began to comb her hair upwards, running the whirring blades over the teeth with a sickening ‘zzzzzzip’. Each time, more and more hair tumbled over the cape and to the floor.
Anne wasn’t certain when her perspective changed. Perhaps it was after the man began to peel away what remained of her hair. She wasn’t sure. Suddenly, the whole thing seemed incredibly amusing. She watched, mesmerized as the barber pared the last remaining hair on her head, shorter and shorter, and then, shorter still.
Eventually, even those hairs seemed to stand up for being so short. She began to see the glimmer of her scalp in a strip at the center of her head, the hair that remained taking on a horseshoe shape.
Then it struck her. What she was feeling wasn’t amusement at all, it was sexual arousal. Anne shook her head, confounded by the notion that something so incredibly humiliating could be arousing to her.
Beneath the cape, she slowly inched her fingers under the hem of her skirt, until they rested against the decidedly damp crotch of her panties. Appalled by the realization of this seemingly misplaced excitement, she was even more shocked when her errant fingers began to stroke her engorged clitoris through the now transparent material.
“Hold very still now.” The barber insisted, seeming to freehand the clippers over the center of her head. More and more of her snow-white scalp was revealed, until she felt the hot metal of the clipper blades against the top of her head.
Anne’s finger pressed against her nub so hard that she thought her eyes might tear up. She just couldn’t let what was about to happen, to happen there. But as she felt the warm lather being spread over the sides and back of her head, she knew she was in serious trouble.
Little by little, the razor denuded a wide swath of skin over her freshly exposed ears, and well up the back of her head. The sensation of the blade on her scalp was so different and so erotic, that there was very little she could do to stop the inevitable from occurring.
With Anne gasping suddenly, the barber took a step back until he realized what was happening. He smiled, knowingly and continued with the recon haircut he was instructed to give the young lady in his chair.
Anne was beyond embarrassed. Her face, but most especially her ears glowed a bright red as the barber un-caped her suddenly. Anne looked down, caught with her hand well up her skirt. The sudden movement of the cape spread the unmistakable scent of her arousal around the shop.
“Looks like somebody had a good time.” The barber chuckled, as Anne struggled to cover herself.
Anne raised her hand to her head, the short sharp bristles that ringed the top of her head the only hair remaining. The sides and back had been shaved as slick as glass, and she paused for a moment as her fingers slipped over its newly exposed surface.
Bowing her head, Anne examined the wide strip of scalp that was nearly shaved in the center of her head, moving her fingers to feel the minute stubble that remained there.
“They call that a landing strip.” The barber pointed out, with a grin. Snapping out of her trance, Anne reached into her purse. She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the man, who took it greedily. “Thanks for the hair, by the way.”
Anne looked over at the long swath of hair that graced the man’s counter, and then to the floor, where a sea of blonde surrounded the chair where she’d been sitting. Suddenly, a rush of embarrassment swept over her, and she dashed out of the shop, sprinting for the relative safety of her car.
What Just Happened?
Anne sat there, stunned for a few moments, not really believing what had just happened. Adjusting her rearview mirror, she confirmed the fact that she looked like a deranged marine, her impeccable makeup seeming out of place beneath her severely cropped scalp.
She drove, not even conscious of her route, but she did manage to find her way back to her condo. Not thinking, she immediately exited the Mercedes and made her way to the front entrance.
“Hold up!” The man’s voice called, sternly. “This is a private residence.”
Anne looked over at the doorman, who she had come to know as Stanley. They had never been friendly, but she was surprised he did not recognize her. Perhaps, in her present state, she should not have been all that surprised.
“I live here, Stanley,” Anne said, walking over to his desk.
Suddenly, the man’s eyes grew wide. “Miss Hanover. I’m sorry but…”
“It’s quite understandable, under the circumstances,” Anne admitted, unconsciously running a hand over the prickly bristles that rimmed the crown of her scalp. She nodded to the man, who was still in a state of shock. Embarrassed, she quickly made her way to her condo.
Once safely inside, Anne sighed with relief. She was unaccustomed to being ashamed of the way she looked. This haircut, especially considering her delicate feminine features, was beyond humiliating.
Despite having been covered by the cape, Anne could feel the tiny bristles of hair that had managed to get under her clothing. She stripped out of the Dillard tweed suit and her Victoria’s Secret lingerie, swiping at her skin, but still feeling the uncomfortable itch of the errant hairs.
She stepped into the shower, the hot jets of water feeling incredibly refreshing after such a harrowing day. The real surprise came when the jets of water hit her freshly exposed scalp. For a moment, she was in sensory overload, as the strong stream bounced noisily off her head, the massage almost too much to bear.
In short order, however, that familiar sensation returned between her legs. She thought back with palpable embarrassment to the episode in the barber’s chair as the barber caught her masturbating.
Now, with no one to watch, she was free to explore her true feelings. Her fingers slipped between her folds, and the immediate response was undeniable. She had never been so easily stimulated in all her life. While her right hand pleasured her below, the left slipped up to rub against the harsh bristles that now represented the totality of her once-glorious blonde mane.
The sides and back of her head were especially smooth, to be sure, as the water lubricated the surface. But, it was that crown of spiky bristles that really tickled her arousal. She felt them poke into her skin, so short that even the water failed to soften their resolve. No, they were determined to stand straight out from her scalp.
She reached for the expensive shampoo that rested on the alcove, but hesitated. ‘No need for that anymore,’ she thought. Instead, she simply ran the bar of Ivory soap over her head, cleansing it as she would any part of her body. Continuing to soap up, she realized that her pubic hair was now the hairiest part of her body.
She giggled with the realization that she sported more hair down there than on her head. “Well, that won’t do at all,” she said out loud. She reached for the multi-blade razor she reserved for her legs and underarms and began to stroke downward into her bush.
Slowly, the curly blonde fleece relented, revealing the smooth skin beneath. As if on a mission, Anne relentlessly attacked the well-manicured thatch of pubic hair, until it was all circling the drain in a soapy tuft.
Once again, her fingers explored the now hairless mound, slipped effortlessly and unimpeded into her pussy. This, coupled with the strangely erotic haircut she now sported, was all it took to send her over the edge, exploding into a nearly debilitating orgasm. She ended up on her knees, on the hard marble tile, the water cascading stiffly against her militarized head.
Exhausted from her self-gratification, she emerged from the bath. Her arousal sated, she was once again faced with the sober reality of her situation. She had lost her position as CEO, been forced into being a menial personal assistant, and then degraded further by Yuja Shen, who had demanded she rid herself of her treasured hair.
Let’s go Slumming
Remembering the tasks still ahead of her, Anne donned her most casual outfit and headed for the closest box store. She vowed to visit the first one she came to, which just happened to be Walmart.
Anne did her best to ignore the stares and snickers as she wandered the aisles of the discount department store. ‘How ridiculous I must look,” she thought. Every once in a while, she would catch her reflection in a pillar mirror, and shudder. Her face seemed to be constantly flushed, and the tips of her ears were no less pink. ‘Does everyone know how humiliated I am? They must.’ Anne resolved.
After having filled the cart with clothes that she would normally not be caught dead in, she made her way to check out. At the register was a young woman, her hair dyed a bright blue, and styled in a punk sort of way, the sides shaved and the top spiked into a sort of mohawk.
“That’s a gutsy style you’ve got there.” The girl commented.
Anne ran her hand over the provocative bristles and smiled. “Thanks.”
“Can I feel?” Then, without her permission, the woman reached out, running her hand over the smoothly shaved sides and eventually over Anne’s horseshoe of stubble. It was one thing for Anne to feel her head, but to have someone else’s hand run over the newly exposed skin was almost too much. Anne unconsciously gasped with the attention. “Sensitive, isn’t it?” The girl grinned, winking to Anne, knowingly.
“Yes. Sorry.” Anne mewled.
“Don’t be sorry. Glad to help.” She bubbled, taking Anne’s credit card for the purchase. “My name’s Candy, by the way.” She handed the receipt to Anne, who quickly shoved the paper into her purse and practically ran out of the store.
Arriving back home, she lugged the three bags of frumpy clothes into her condo and set about putting them away. If she was going to do this, she was going all out. Anne removed the expensive blouses, gowns, and skirts from her closet, replacing them with the ill-fitting stuff she had just purchased.
Emptying her drawers as well, all of the expensive lingerie was out, replaced with the cheap cotton panties and bras Walmart had in stock. Last to go were her shoes. All of her Ferragamo and Jimmy Choo jewels found the box she was filling, replaced with the cheap faux leather pumps and off-brand sneakers she had managed to buy.
Dragging the box of expensive adornments into the basement, she sealed the box with tape, labeling it: Old Me. Was it possible she was embracing the idea of her extreme reduction in status? All Anne knew was the entire process was making her wet.
Pulling the receipt from her purse, she laughed at the total cost of her wardrobe makeover. The entire thing cost a fraction of just one of her old suits. It was then that she noticed the writing on the back of the paper.
“Call me, bitch! 555-2233. Candy!”