Latte for Chris

Part 1: Girl Talk

“I just noticed the time! I’m sorry I’ve been talking your ear off,” Abby told the hairdresser tending to the final touches of her haircut.

“Don’t worry babe, you’re not keeping me. I have another appointment after this,” Corinne assured.

“But I thought you closed at 8?”

“I made an exception for a client with… special requests,” Corinne clarified with some reluctance.

“What kind of requests?” Abby queried. Corrine stifled a laugh and fell silent. Abby got the sudden sense she had crossed a line and attempted to correct, “Never mind. It’s not my business.”

Corinne assuaged, “You’re good. It’s just us girls. I’ll tell you. A while back a young guy reached out about this fantasy of his…”

“Oh!”

“Hold on! Before you assume anything, no funny business! I’m a classy lady!”

“Hey, I’m not judging!” Abby promised.

“Me, classy? Who am I kidding?” Corinne sighed sarcastically, gesturing at herself. The curvy energetic woman was in her late 30s, wearing cut off overalls and a tie dye t-shirt. Her dark curly hair was flecked with silver and bound in twin braids that reached her shoulders. She was the kind of brash and confident woman Abby would love to mature into. Their chats made it fun to keep her auburn bob maintained on a regular schedule. As a server and student in her mid 20s, there was no way Abby could afford to drop $80 every six weeks at the salons in her area. Though the more casual setting of Corrine’s barber shop took some getting used to, Abby cherished her routine and new friend. Abby laughed as Corrine struck a dramatic pose and continued, “Still, it’s not like that… or not exactly. I guess he’s always wanted a mean female barber to cut a lot of hair without permission. He was very clear that I didn’t need to see, show, or touch anything private.” 

A little stunned, Abby reacted, “I see…”

Corrine shrugged and elaborated, “That’s what he’s into and he’s willing to pay for it. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“I have…” Abby answered, neglecting to mention she was very familiar with “such a thing.” In private, her fantasies gravitated toward femdom with hair as a major reoccurring theme. 

“Really? I hadn’t. I guess just about anything under the sun could be someone’s… thing.” Corrine went on, “I’m a simple woman, if you know what I mean. Just play the hits, nothing special. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“It’s not bad, trust me,” Abby attested.

“Well as long as clothes stay on, for what he’s offering, I can roleplay and handle a little and heavy breathing. Lord knows I get enough of that from men without the decency to ask first.”

“Are you worried about safety?”

“We had an appointment a month or two ago. He’s this harmless little thing. Still, my boyfriend is next door and we have a signal if anything goes wrong,” the hairdresser clarified.

“Smart! So, how’d it go?” Abby inquired, trying to seem the appropriate amount interested.

“Honestly, I had a blast. It got my creative juices flowing. Even if they were the only juices flowing, playing a bossy character was so fun for my inner theater kid, you feel me?” 

“Oh for sure! How was the haircut?” Abby prodded.

“Well, he comes in with these pretty little ringlets down to here,” the older woman explained, holding her hands below her shoulders. “I almost couldn’t do it. But there was just enough to donate, so I sucked it up for a good cause.”

Wide-eyed, Abby marveled dreamily, “Wow, that’s a big change.”

“I gave him one of those 90s curtain cuts that are trendy lately. I thought maybe I went too far but he’s back for more,” Corinne reported. “I swear though, when that ponytail came off, I couldn’t tell if he was going to burst into tears or bust a nut.”

“I would have loved to see that!” Abby blurted without thinking. She recoiled and studied Corrine’s expression, finding confusion followed by amusement.

“I guess if that’s what you’re into…” Corrine said with a shrug.

“Not like that! That sounds… funny!” 

“Funny… suuuure,” Corinne doubted.

“Yeah, silly!” Abby insisted defensively.

“Lighten up, I’m not judging. It’s just us girls.”

“Sorry… I can’t explain it.”

“I guess this thing with hair is more common than I thought,” Corrine observed.

“It’s pretty uncommon… I would know,” Abby relented.

“So the truth comes out!” Corinne reveled.

“Do you think it’s creepy?”

Corrine dramatically threw up her hands and lamented “Oh the betrayal! All this time I thought you were such a loyal regular because of my sparkling personality. I didn’t know you were leering all over my fine establishment! Sullying my chair with your snail trail!”

Through laughter, Abby defended, “Don’t be gross! It really isn’t like that!”

“I know you’re a good kid. But now I gotta know… What is it like?” Corrine prodded.

“It’s hard to describe… There’s just something sexy about seeing a guy… transform?” Abby managed. 

“Fascinating. So do you give all your boyfriends makeovers?” 

“Oh I’ve never told them. It sounds too crazy.”

“Please, girl. There’s no shame in whatever gets you there. It doesn’t sound like you’re hurting anyone,” the older woman imparted.

“I’d never hurt anyone… for real anyway,” the customer clarified.

“I see how it is! Well damn, little miss freak!” Corinne remarked with admiration and affection. 

“I mean I like to see a little… reluctance? Shy guys are just so adorable. Do you know what I mean?” Abby confided, feeling relieved to open up.

“Personally? No. My bits zip shut for a timid guy. I love that for you though. You certainly have plenty of options,” the hairdresser explained.

“You think so?” 

“Trust me, submissive dudes grow on trees. Besides, look at you! Half of men would give their left nut for a crumb of your attention. I don’t think hair would take a lot of convincing,” Corinne suggested. 

“Maybe… but I wouldn’t want to take advantage of anyone,” Abby said.

“Oh my, you’re such a sweetheart, it kills me. If only men saw things that way. In my experience, they like being used almost as much as they like using people,” Corrine lectured.

“How… wise,” Abby noted.

“That’s a nice way of calling me old and cynical,” Corinne scoffed.

“You’re not even old,” Abby said with an eye roll. 

“Too sweet.” Corrine continued, “If you want an enthusiastic victim, maybe you should meet this guy. I can’t really vouch for him, but he seemed… respectful. Just a bit… odd and too skinny for my taste. You could do worse. He’s tall, sweet face… huge hog!” 

“Excuse me?!” Abby exclaimed with a scandalized giggle.

“Well, I had to look. He was enough of a gentleman to attempt to hide it but there was nowhere to put that bad boy where you couldn’t see,” Corrine reminisced.

Allowing herself to relax, Abby asked hopefully, “Do you think he’d let me watch?” 

Corrine scoffed and promised, “I’ll ask but I think a pretty girl salivating all over his little scenario sounds like a dream come true.”

Part 1 tl;dr: Corrine is a hairdresser who confessed to her customer Abby that she agreed to act out a sexual fantasy for a male client who wants a drastic haircut from a dominant woman. Abby admitted that she’s turned on by the idea. Corrine invited her to participate. 

 

Part 2: New Toy

Once Corrine secured permission via text to bring a guest along, anticipation coursed through Abby’s veins. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she gushed.

“Just loosen up and have fun. Get in character, nothing over the top, aloof… a little bitchy,” Corrine recommended. “He was pretty specific that there’s no asking for permission. No checking in with him. Got it?” she expounded. Abby’s heart and pelvis fluttered at the prospect.

“Understood,” she affirmed.

Perched on a stool by the front desk, Abby tried channeling bitchy. As she wondered if she was cut out for this, chimes on the door interrupted her train of thought. A switch flipped as she appraised the figure a few feet away. The cool gust of fresh air and pheromones dissolved the nerves that lingered in her guts. In their place, she found something like hunger. Abby couldn’t decide if she felt more like a kid with a new toy or a predator with its prey. Either way, she sat up straight. The stranger was slim and fair skinned. His glasses fogged up as he removed his jacket and exposed veiny forearms. He sighed, sending a ripple through lean muscle that clung to his narrow frame. Abby focused on the waistline of his boxers as he cleared the condensation with his t-shirt. He glanced up from the task through a curtain of sand colored hair to make fleeting eye contact. He put the glasses back on and properly met her gaze. His head cocked slightly to one side in a micro-expression of recognition. 

It took her slightly longer to place him. He was an occasional patron of the coffee shop where she used to work. She saw thousands of customers and instantly forgot most of them. She could only recall the very frequent fliers or people with distinct features. He was lankier back then but his really memorable trait was the long dreamy hair that was now missing. In its place was a symmetrical trendy crop that framed his face and grazed his collar. She vaguely recalled daydreaming during some dull shift about those lost locks hitting the floor. She reflected on how much he would have liked that, amazed by the odds. Abby mentally replayed the words “huge hog,” in Corrine’s exact cadence. Visions of tying him in knots and running him ragged danced through her head. She swallowed, smiled, crossed her arms, and leaned back.

With her hands on her hips, Corrine interrupted their silent acknowledgement by barking, “Excuse me, what are you standing around for? Can I help you?”

He cleared his throat and sheepishly told the ground “I’m sorry,” with an embarrassed smirk. He steadied himself, turned to Corrine, and continued nonchalantly, “I need a haircut.”

“Well clearly,” she mused, eyeing him with disapproval. “I didn’t suppose you were here for an oil change. Sit,” she ordered, gesturing at the empty chair. Abby swiveled to watch him obey. Corrine promptly caped the young man and removed his glasses.

“Can you clean up my neckline? I’m looking for a trim,” he recited without expression. 

“Dear, I thought I told you last time, I don’t do trims,” Corrine specified as she adjusted the chair’s height. “You’ll get what you need. Is that going to be a problem?” she demanded.

“No ma’am. Just not too short please,” he politely pleaded.

“Sure thing kid. But I think I’ve heard enough from you for now. Can you be quiet for me?”

He nodded meekly. 

“Good boy,” she delighted with a patronizing pat on the head. “Abby dear, come take a good look at Ryan, the pretty young thing I told you about.” Abby silently obliged. She couldn’t remember this guy’s name but was almost positive it wasn’t Ryan.  Corrine placed a hand on each of his shoulders and proclaimed, “Well? Kind of cute right?” As she spoke, Corrine glanced down with some surprise and gave his shoulders a squeeze. “And he’s been working out… Good boy indeed,” she added with detectable sincerity. The young man cracked a subtle smile that made Abby’s heart melt. 

Abby steeled herself and assessed, “He certainly has… potential. If it weren’t for all that shaggy hair.” 

Corrine gave the six or so inches on the top of his head a little tug and remarked, “If you think this is bad, you should have seen how I found him.” Abby and “Ryan” shared a glance. Neither deemed it worth sharing that she actually had. “Did I go too easy on him?” Corrine asked with feigned chagrin.

“I’m afraid so,” Abby conceded.

“I’m too soft,” Corrine said with a self-effacing shrug. “Ryan dear, you’re lucky my friend Abby doesn’t have that problem,” she explained. He shuddered as Corrine tickled his chin and noted, “This scruff is new. How grown-up. What do you think?” 

“I’m not sure,” Abby answered in all honesty, lifting and hesitantly extending a hand. 

“Don’t be shy. He won’t bite,” the hairdresser encouraged. “Right?” she directed playfully at the client.

After an extended pause, he tentatively parted his lips to answer.

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” Corrine scolded with a playful tap. He shut up and looked down. Then Abby gently lifted his chin to get a better look. He did not resist, appearing instead to enjoy the gesture. Encouraged, she turned his face side to side with a firmer grip, eliciting a sharp inhale. With a thumb, she stroked the dusting of facial hair that deepened the hollows of his cheeks, giving him an angular look. 

She pondered and announced, “It’s nice. I like ’em neat… but not too neat.” From there, she lightly traced his jaw until she met a lock of hair which she tenderly tucked behind his ear. “He has cute ears,” she volunteered lasciviously. 

“Do we need to show them off?” Corrine posited.

“Definitely,” Abby nearly growled. The young man sustained a blank expression but the goosebumps on his neck and flush in his cheeks betrayed his arousal. Corrine produced a small pair of shears from her chest pocket and extended them to Abby.

“Go ahead,” she invited.

“Me?” Abby asked incredulously. 

“Yeah, why not? Mess around a little. I can fix any damage you do… to his hair. Seriously, don’t cut him,” the hairdresser beckoned, ending on an earnest note. Abby toyed with the blades, tentatively opening and closing them. “Wait, hold them like this,” Corrine corrected with a brief demonstration.

Abby lifted a lock from the side of the gentleman’s head, snipped it off, and felt giddy. She rolled it in her fingers and let three inches fall to the floor. He dutifully stared blankly ahead. Abby continued to experiment, taking small clippings until she had carved out a jagged window around his ear. When Abby finally stepped back, Corrine chuckled and commented, “Very… creative.”

“Don’t laugh! You said to mess around!” Abby argued playfully.

“I did say that,” the hairdresser acquiesced. “You know, it could be a new trend. You should do the other side.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” Abby demanded cynically. 

“Of course not, I want to see!” Corrine promised as she grabbed the chair and spun it 180 degrees. The two women shared an honest fit of girlish laughter. Next, Abby replicated the procedure with more haste. The result resembled a choppy mullet with long disconnected bangs. 

“Well?” Abby beseeched.

“Huh, they really are cute ears. I didn’t even know ears could be cute. It’s really not even that bad,” Corrine conceded. “Your generation loves this kind of shit.” The man appeared titillated by the scrutiny. The hairdresser turned him to face the mirror and inquired, “Permission to speak, dear. Would you leave here like this?” 

He took a deep breath, deliberated, and answered, “If you think that’s best ma’am.” The veins on his neck cast shadows.

“Oh sweet thing, I’m not that cruel,” Corrine assured with palpable pity. She removed a tray from her cart of supplies and presented it to Abby. “I think that’s enough goofing around. What’s our next move?” The younger woman’s eyes went wide at the collection of clipper guards like it was a box of chocolates. She gingerly inspected a number five. She opted instead for a four and held it out in her palm. “Solid choice,” Corrine approved. After subduing most emotion up to this point, the customer squirmed anxiously, intently watching Corrine prepare her clippers.

“Fuck,” escaped his lips in a whisper. 

“Did you say something?” Corrine questioned.

He stared into his lap and silently shook his head. 

“Do you have anything to say?” she added. 

He shook his head again.

“That’s what I thought,” she confirmed with a sadistic smile. Meanwhile, the tension tantalized Abby. Goosebumps washed over her. She remained focused and silent as Corrine announced, “Sit up straight. It’s go time kiddo.” When the machine came alive, the client adjusted his posture, shut his eyes, and regulated his breathing with great effort. At last, she mowed straight down the middle of his head. His expression was enigmatic, equal parts miserable and enthralled.

“Fuck… that’s so hot,” Abby relished and shuddered. The client shot her a glance and raised a curious eyebrow, appearing perhaps to puzzle over whether or not she was acting. Before Abby could attempt a silent answer to the silent question, Corrine roughly jerked his head to resume cutting. After a couple strokes, the hairdresser offered the clippers to her partner in crime.

“Your turn,” she chirped. Abby didn’t hesitate to participate this time. She reveled in the shearing process, careful not to miss any spots. She erased the silly flaps around his ears and took her time reducing every hair to a fuzzy uniform half inch. 

“I’ll take it from here,” Corrine directed, retrieving the clippers. She removed the guard and aggressively pinned the customer’s chin to his chest. Next she guided the clippers up from his nape, carving a bare white path. The machine gradually circumnavigated his head, exposing his pale scalp in a smooth arc, ear-to-ear. As Corrine prepared to fade out the harsh line, Abby couldn’t resist the urge to feel the bare rough skin. The object of her affection tensed at first and then eased into her touch. In a total lapse in bitchiness, Abby bit her lip and smiled at him. Corrine admired, “I love how much you’re loving this,” asking her pensive partner fondly, “Is it everything you wanted?”

Enraptured, Abby reported, “I can hardly stand it.” The young man exhaled dulcetly as if trying not to moan. 

“Well feel free to take a seat while I blend this in,” Corinne teased. “You look like you could catch your breath.”

Abby made herself comfortable at the neighboring station, dizzy with endorphins. She was tempted to play with herself but opted not to cross that boundary with Corinne. Despite her best efforts to stay cool, she couldn’t help but fidget a little when the excitement was too much to bear. Fortunately, Corrine was too focused on her work to notice or care. “Ryan,” however, definitely did. For the remaining minutes, his attention was divided between his rapidly transforming reflection and the rich text that was Abby’s body language. Meanwhile, Corinne perfected a smooth gradient of white skin to dusky beige fuzz. 

After a few final touches, Corrine gingerly placed the customer’s glasses on his face and spoke, “Well Ryan, we’re just about done here. Tell me, do you like it?”

He swallowed and answered, “Yes ma’am.” 

“Not ‘too short’?”

“No ma’am.”

With a tender pat on the head and a conspicuous shift in tone, she proceeded, “And now for how you really feel?”

“Uhh… overwhelmed,” with a ticklish smirk as she dusted the clippings off his face and neck.

“Good overwhelmed or bad overwhelmed?” she inquired as she removed his cape. 

“Definitely good. Thank you,” he assured bashfully. 

“I’m glad to hear it. I really think this look suits you. Now If you don’t mind, I have some closing duties in the office. Why don’t you two talk?” she sweetly offered and vanished.

Without the modesty of the cape, the man shuffled awkwardly in an obvious attempt to hide his lap behind his shirt. 

Abby broke the awkward silence. “Don’t. I want to see.” Sighing, he put his hands on his head, leaned back, and dutifully spread his knees. She gawked at the shadow running down his thigh while he was busy savoring the sensation of his buzzcut. 

Straining to compose himself, he mustered, “That was really special. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You could come home with me,” she proposed hopefully.

He stammered, “As much as I’d like that… I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“You think I charge?” she asked with some astonishment. 

“I thought… I um… Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he apologized, shrinking into the chair. 

“Relax, I’m not offended. Besides, I can see how that would be… confusing,” she assuaged after some consideration.

“So does that mean…”

“This is 100% my fetish too. I’m sorry that wasn’t more obvious,” Abby clarified ruefully. 

“So you were…” he processed aloud, massaging his face and trailing off.

“Completely soaked,” she finished for him with palms outstretched.

“I see…” he reacted. An inscrutable flurry of emotion flashed across his face. Tears glazed his eyes. “Welp, now there’s that,” he lamented sardonically at the wet spot that had suddenly appeared on his pants.

“Is that a raincheck for tonight?” she speculated drolly. 

“No no no. I can go again, as long as I’m not dreaming and you’re not a serial killer,” he pleaded, blinking back tears. “Actually, being a serial killer isn’t even a dealbreaker,” he quipped. Her heart genuinely ached for the poor creature who couldn’t imagine anyone interested in his fantasy without a price. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him.

Instead she leaned back, crossed her arms, and said dismissively, “I don’t know anymore… You called me a prostitute and now you’ve made a mess of your pants. Can you really make up for that?” Wide-eyed, he perched his elbows on his knees blubbered into his hands. Thinking she gravely miscalculated, Abby nearly panicked. She was quickly relieved to notice he wasn’t crying, but laughing hysterically. It took all her might not to join him. It was all too absurd. She smiled behind her hand and tried to look serious. She cleared her throat and barked, “Are you done Ryan?”

“My name’s Chris,” he confessed, muffled by his hands. She couldn’t hold back a hearty chuckle at that.

“Of course, how could I forget ‘latte for Chris,'” she sighed sarcastically. 

“You do remember me,” he verified with some satisfaction after catching his breath.

“That fucking ponytail should have been mine,” she grumbled playfully.

He nodded with emphatic agreement, bantering, “Yes ma’am. I should have saved it for you. Honestly, fuck those kids with cancer.”

She broke again with laughter before sternly correcting, “Well Chris, what are you going to do about the trouble you’re in?” He gripped his knees and shook his nearly bare head in disbelief at the floor. Next, Chris shifted out of his seat onto the ground. Dragging himself through a pile of his own hair, he crawled to her side and bowed his head where Abby couldn’t resist petting it.

He took her hand, kissed it, and promised, “Absolutely whatever it takes.”