Just a Small-Town Barber, Part IV
Things had begun to heat up in the small town of East Porter over the last few weeks. Summer was winding down, but the August heat was relentless.
I had begun to keep track of the number of women who had paid me a visit, seeking something shorter than the town hairdresser would allow. Most were bobs or modified pixies of some sort or other, but a few had opted for something a bit more ‘gentlemanly’.
As predicted, poor Allie Walker had finally given in to her newfound hair fetish, having me shave her completely bald a few days later. She had that look on her face, as she had each time I had taken her shorter. This time, however, she seemed nearly beside herself.
“Oh, God, Jim, just shave this shit off my head, once and for all.” She had spluttered, exasperated. I thought the two older men that had come in right behind her were going to have heart attacks as I removed her already sparsely covered undercut.
She didn’t care one bit, as if displaying herself for them, and seeming to enjoy the odd humiliation. The clippers made short work of her thinned-out mop, finally revealing her naked scalp in its entirety for the first time.
To be honest, she looked a damn sight better than she did with the ‘dickhead’ haircut, as people had begun to call it.
Funny thing was, I cut her husband’s hair frequently, and he had never mentioned anything about what she had done, or what I had done to her. Something told me that he may have preferred her the way she was now.
The next day, the three high-schoolers showed up at my shop, wanting to renew their summer cuts for the return to school the following week. Meredith, Susie, and Anna had arrived shortly after noon and made their way to the seats closest to the door. They knew enough to take numbers.
They giggled amongst themselves as I finished up with Allison’s husband, strangely enough. He had asked for a change, something shorter, and said to surprise him. Well, I wasn’t one to disappoint. Perhaps some of his wife’s fetish was rubbing off on him. He left the shop with a number one buzz, in sharp contrast to his usual floppy comb-over.
“Well, Who’s first?” I asked the young women as they seemed to be exchanging numbers.
“Me!” Anna called out. She quickly made her way to my chair, installing herself confidently as I wrapped her with my cape. Her recon had grown into an all-over buzz, looking a bit unkempt.
“So… the same?” I assumed.
“Nope.” She giggled again, looking back at Meredith who was smirking. “For some reason, my brother shaved his hair clean off last week.” Anna pointed out. “He’s as bald as an onion.”
I shook my head, although not entirely displeased with the idea of divesting another woman of her hair. “So, all off then?”
“All off!” I couldn’t believe her enthusiasm.
“Okay.” Without too much to do, I peeled off what remained of her recon, right down to the scalp with my trimmers. I could tell she was enjoying the process but tried to avoid thinking about it, rightly chiding myself.
She seemed to enjoy the shaving even more than the clippers, her blonde roots disappearing into smooth silky skin as the straight razor did its worst. She didn’t really snap out of her reverie until I slipped the hot towel from her head, and the cool air hit her ultra-smooth dome.
Her hands shot up to it as she rose from the chair, and I could see there was a mixture of shock and delight on her face as she walked back to her friends. There was some muted discussion before Susie stood and walked back up to my chair.
The stubble that now sprouted from her head did nothing for her, and I tried not to imagine her stepmother in my chair as I banged her, clippers doing their business while my cock did the rest between her hairless cunt lips.
“Well, Susie, how are we…”
“All for one, and one for all.” This was all she said, looking back at her friends. I chuckled under my breath, imagining the grief I was going to get this time. Another pact, no doubt.
“All…Off!” She affirmed. Of course, taking her hair completely off was a disaster for the poor girl. Her already prominent ears stood out even more once every trace of hair had been removed from her head. I had to admit, at the end of it, that the bald look actually made her look the tiniest bit better.
What hit me, was what she said as she was standing, in a whisper. “I know you’re banging my stepmother.” For a moment I was shocked, but when a smile crept over her face, I knew she didn’t disapprove.
Meredith took the change in stride as well. As all three girls emerged from my shop, bald as three eggs in a carton, I couldn’t help but wonder what else might walk through my door.
That evening, as if on cue, Melody appeared on my stoop, and I felt my cock twitch in anticipation as she made her way inside. She had the process down to a science, pulling the blinds and flipping the closed sign over on the door. She had fallen into the habit of leaving the door unlocked, and I think she hoped to be exposed one day, someone inadvertently walking through the door, despite the closed sign.
“Saw what you did to Susie, today.” She smirked, as she slipped out of her clothes. I did the same. Once naked she climbed into my chair and laid her head back for the kiss, the one I usually bestowed upside down.
“Oh, yeah. What was it they said?” I chuckled. “All for one…”
“And one for all.” She finished.
“You’re joking, Mel. You really want me to shave you?”
“Well, you’ve shaved everything else.” She mused.
I shrugged, as I grabbed the trimmers, scruffing my fingers over her quarter-inch buzz. The strip had grown a bit wider since the first time I had been carried away, and at her insistence. “I’m going to take this from you now, Melody,” I said, as I eased my cock into her well-lubricated cunt. “I’m going to take it all; all of it.” I pressed, as my cock reach its hilt against her pubic bone.
I ran the trimmers straight down the middle of her head, leaving no room for backing out. She moaned as the stubble tumbled over her naked body and onto the chair. Four strips later, the top had been reduced to the finest stubble.
I fucked her as she’d never been fucked that night, her hands wandering over her sandpaper scalp, desperately searching for any scrap of her hair that I may have missed but finding none.
Before I came, I pulled out, straddling her with razor in hand. “Hold it in your mouth while I shave you bald, Melody Barnes.”
She moaned around it as she worked her lips over my member. I used her slick juices for shaving lather, her scalp smelling of her wanton sex as the razor finished her off. Without her permission, I relieved her of her eyebrows. So intense was the passion between us at that moment, that she barely noticed.
I very nearly came in her mouth before I finished, but managed to stop myself, wanting to come inside her. Her totally hairless knob of a head was all the fodder I needed to erupt, long and hard, my cock buried firmly against her cervix.
“Jimmy Parker. What did you do to me?” She giggled as she admired her reflection in the mirror.
“Nothing you didn’t want me to do,” I said, rubbing my hard-on against her soft buttocks as I came up behind her.
“I’m going to have to buy a new eyebrow pencil.” She moaned.
“No.” I insisted. “You’re not.” I reached around her and buried my fingers into her slot, pressing firmly against her engorged clitoris. “Not only are you not drawing them on, you’re coming in here every other night to keep up the look.”
“Jimmy, Jesus.” She sighed.
“You know you want it this way, Melody. You said you wanted it this way, didn’t you?” I reminded her.
“Yes, Sir.” She mewled, but with an air of unsatisfied lust in her voice.
“Okay. Now be a good little slave and clean up your mess.” Before she slipped on her clothes, she carefully swept my shop, and then buffed and polished the leather on my chair. Things between us were getting a little heavy, but with Melody, it was alright. She’d do exactly as I told her.
A few days later, I got an unexpected visitor. A rather attractive woman, who must have been in her mid-thirties came walking into my shop. She had a certain confidence about her that I didn’t see in my usual female clientele.
“Good morning.” I smiled, and the shop being empty at the time, I spun the chair in her direction. “Haircut?” She gave me a look that would have stopped my heart cold dead.
“You, Sir, are a menace.” She proclaimed. She dipped her eyes, and a lock of permed hair fell into her eyes. I wondered if this might be the infamous…
“My name is Claudette Linney, and I own the Cut n’ Curl down the road a piece. What you’re doing to the women of this town…”
“Is exactly what they asked for, and nothing more, Claudette,” I assured her. “No one has come in here and been railroaded into a haircut they didn’t want.”
“Before you opened, the women of this town were respectable. Now I see ladies walking around with crewcuts and mohawks and God help us, those three young girls with their heads shaved as clean as a whistle. You should be ashamed.”
“And yet, strangely enough, I’m not, Ms. Linney.” I chortled. “My conscience is clear.”
“I don’t know how you can live with yourself.” She pressed.
“Is it the haircuts that are bothering you Claudette, or is it the missing revenue?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Well, I never. I’ll have you know I’m booked out three weeks.”
“Then what on earth is the problem? Some women want to have short hair, and get exactly what they want, rather than your watered-down version of it.” I stated, honestly. “Is it that you don’t know how to give a good short cut?”
“Well, honestly, I’ve never had the inkling to try.” She admitted, dryly.
“I think you’ll find me a pretty good sport. Why don’t you come back this Saturday morning, and I’ll run through some of the styles that the ladies have been asking for. There’s really nothing to it, compared to a perm and set.” I explained.
“Well, I’d have to move some things around, but, oh hell, why not.” She finally gave in.
“Good. Then I’ll see you around ten o’clock?”
“Ten o’clock then.” She smiled, then as if she was going to renege on the whole deal, she spun. “I don’t suppose… oh, never mind.” And with that, she was gone.
Saturday morning rolled around, and the day was starting out slow. The weather was nice, so figured people had things to do. About 9:30, two men entered the shop, and about ten minutes later a young mother with her son and daughter in tow.
I was about a minute into the second gentleman’s cut when Claudette made her appearance. To be honest, I was a bit surprised she showed up at all. She nodded to the mother and her children, and then pulled one of the chairs up to beside where I was working.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She admitted, and I sensed a certain embarrassment over being there at all.
I went over the way I used the clippers to shape the hair, something she was completely ignorant of. Interested, she leaned closer as I created the skintight fade the man had asked for. She asked questions where I expected her to, and was especially interested in the different blades and clippers that I used.
When the young boy stepped up, she seemed shocked by the mother’s request to skin him down for school. The boy’s hair was more of a mullet when I started, but he was sporting a skintight buzz at the end.
It was when the mother ushered her young daughter to the chair that Claudette seemed to want to interfere. “Wouldn’t you rather bring her down to the Cut n Curl, so I can give her a nice feminine style?” She asked, garnering a look from the mother.
“No. She’s eleven, and can have her hair cut any way she wants, and she wants it cut here.” The young mother insisted.
With Claudette being hushed sufficiently by the woman, I combed out the young girl’s shoulder-length hair. “So, how would you like your hair cut?” I asked the girl, who seemed to be taken by excitement and nervousness together.
“If I said I wanted it cut like Timmy’s you’d all laugh.” She suggested, fluffing her hair with her fingers.
“I’m not laughing,” I said, “but I think your mom might have something less drastic in mind.”
Her brother giggled over the idea of his sister getting a crewcut but was quickly hushed by his mother. “I said any way you want, sweetie, and I meant it.” Her mother sighed, probably regretting her earlier confession.
I thought Claudette was going to have kittens, right there on the floor of my shop, but the girl spared her that embarrassment.
“Well, not that short, but I do want something short. Like that.” She pointed up at the trusty haircut poster that had survived from the fifties, its corners yellowed and curled. “Number three?”
The standard boy’s cut was certainly short, but left a bit to comb over on the top. Not as short as an Ivy league, but almost. “Okay, that’s pretty short.” I looked over at her mother, who simply shrugged, gesturing for me to give her daughter what she wanted.
I tried my level best to include Claudette in the proceedings as I snipped away most of the girl’s hair, but she seemed lost. ‘Hmmm, where have I seen that look before?’, I chuckled inwardly.
Once her hair had been reduced to a choppy chin-length bob, I started in with the clippers, using a number four-blade. As much as I tried to show her, Claudette seemed lost in a haze. Eventually, I just cut, and stopped teaching.
I had reduced the girl’s hair up past the occipital and had carved a nice arc over her ears, before setting down the clippers and snatching the scissors from my pocket.
Layering the hair, I combed up and cut, combed up and cut, all to the ever-widening smile spreading across the young girl’s face. Her long blonde hair was no more, the little boy cut taking its place.
When all the hair on top was pared down to two inches, I began the process of shaving up the back and sides. The zero-blade peeled most of the hairline upwards, including that over her ears, leaving one-inch-high whitewalls to go with the equally shorn back.
Blending everything together, the cut was assuming its final form. The finishing touch was combing down the bangs and giving them that angled fall that insured the combover was strictly adhered to. The rigid side part completed the look.
The girl squealed with delight as she examined her new cut in the mirror. No one would ever suspect that she was anything but a little boy. “I love it, Mom!” She gushed, as I released her from the chair.
To my surprise, her mother handed me another number slip, this one being her own. “You can do a trim, I hope.” She sighed, as she slipped into the chair.
“Of course,” I said, looking over at Claudette, who still seemed a bit shellshocked after I had tonsured the young girl so thoroughly.
The woman released her hair, which had been held up by a scissors clip, allowing its full length to tumble over the cape. I heard Claudette gasp, as I ran a comb through the glorious chestnut locks. I was certain the woman had too.
Looking in the mirror, I could see the annoyed expression on her face as she glanced at Claudette, sideways. “On second thought, I think I’m ready for a change.” She grinned, knowing Claudette was again lost in her own musings.
“Okay, what are you thinking?” I asked, excited to be doing more than trimming an inch or two from that luscious mane.
“Can you do an A-line bob?” She asked. Of course, having just done a few, I was well versed in the cut. “Not trimmed though. I want it shaved good and high in the back.”
“Oh, honey. Are you…”
“You hush now.” The woman bit, turning towards Claudette. “This is not your shop.”
“No, you’re right. It’s not.” And with that, Claudette gathered her things and exited through the front door, not looking back as she scurried in the direction of her salon.
“So…” I grinned. “Just a trim?” Knowing her performance was all for show.
“Please.” She sighed, relieved.
“If she hadn’t stormed out,” I wondered, “would you have gone through with it?”
“Without a doubt.” She chortled. “If only to get that woman’s goat.”
“Then what’s stopping you now?” I asked, still hoping.
“Nothing, to be honest.”
“Then why not go for it? You said yourself, that you’re ready for a change. I don’t suppose that was entirely a ruse.” I snipped my scissors together playfully.
It was the first time I had ever encouraged anyone to go shorter than they wanted to go, but I had to admit that the feeling of power was intoxicating, when she finally gave in.
I wasn’t going to give the woman a choice after she had demanded the back be shaved. Nor was I going to allow her to dictate how high it would be. From the moment she agreed to the cut, she was no longer in control.
I loved hearing the gasps from her as I sliced her long hair into the severe bob she had jokingly persisted in getting. I left her a bit of length in the front, complimenting her angled jawline, but the back was devastatingly short.
The hair split her ears in half, exposing the lobe and part of the pinna as I relentlessly cut, shorter than she wanted, but as probably not as short as she needed. There was no going back now, with the hair trimmed just above the occipital in the back.
The gasps had turned to subdued whimpers as I fired up the clippers and bit into the hair at her nape. She glanced over at her children, who were busy playing with one of the games I had set out. She was safe in her reverie. As a favor I leaned into her nearly naked ear, “They’re busy. You’re safe.”
My admission only served to feed her presumed arousal as the clippers made short work of her emerging nape, the base of her delicate skull now traced by the thin layer of shaven scalp stretched enticingly over it.
A snip here, and a scrape there, and she was done. Looking at her reflection, I swear she very nearly swooned right in my chair. She looked amazing with the cut, and the back was devilishly short, nothing she would ever be able to hide.
“This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” I asked, removing the cape, and catching the ever so delicate scent of her arousal.
“Thank you, yes.” She said, hastily gathering herself as if suddenly realizing what she had allowed me to do to her. “Rachel, Timmy, let’s go.” She handed me two twenties and quickly retreated from my shop. I knew she’d be back.