Lindsey’s Hair Design

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She has a mohawk…a mohawk, my god what am I doing here? I thought as she walked towards me. The black mohawk was simple in design and feminine in execution, buzzed down to a very short pelt uniformly up to her crown where the top of her head sported hair several inches long and swept up and held up with gel. She had a slightly gothy appearance, which I didn’t expect. In addition to her mohawk, she wore form fitting dark blue jeans with some holes here and there, black knee high boots with four inch heels and a tight fitting black t-shirt that showed off her smallish, but well proportioned breasts with some sort of colorful pulp-ish logo that I didn’t recognize. She wore two black cuff bracelets with metal studs on each wrist and had a metal studded black belt on. Her eyes wore heavy dark liner and she sported two medium sized black hoop earrings but otherwise her face was mostly left alone, letting her dark hair, clothes and makeup stand out against her relatively light skin. This was on top of what was a surprisingly feminine, and pretty face. She was about my height and looked to be in her mid-twenties which would make her about my age and had a trim figure, that still featured some athletic curves.

It’s all because of Mandy. I thought. It started when my friend Mandy came into work at the department store last week with her usually shoulder length bob cut into a breathtakingly short and edgy wedge cut with the nape clean shaven smooth and told me about this new stylist she had happened to bump into while out at a bar over the weekend. Her golden blonde hair had also been lightened a couple of shades and she had been given a thin shock of purple hair that formed the leading edge of her swept bangs.

“Hey, I know you’ve had some trouble finding a good steady stylist lately. You should totally see her. I was telling her about you and your predicament and she said that first time customers are no charge and she could always use more clients,” Mandy explained. “I love the way this cut looks, and it’s so much cooler in the heat too. Here…” she furthered, while she pressed a business card into my hand.

The reason my heart had been pounding was because of her style. It had to be. I had just never seen anything like that on a girl in my twenty five years of age. Sure, I had seen pictures in fashion magazines of crazy styles, but those always seemed like fiction to me; not something that was real but existed in a fictional world that you could enjoy like you would read a novel or something. People just didn’t wear styles like those in day to day life where I live. But something about Mandy’s style entranced me and made me tingly all over. My dark brown, mid back length hair had always been a security blanket for me. It had stayed relatively the same over the years in the same precise, tidy blunt cut that I wore with a center part. I always kept it trimmed neat and treated it with care so that it carried a healthy, glossy sheen. Over the years it has become a part of my identity; I was a long hair girl and that was how the world saw me. I never even considered changing it as it was a source of pride and comfort to myself, a constant treasure that would always be there and helped form my self image. And it was the idea that someone, in this case Mandy, could have it changed so drastically and suddenly that had captivated me and held my interest longer than other styles that I don’t normally give a second thought to. The idea of having my treasured hair changed filled me with fear, but also excitement.

I had stared at the card she handed me. ‘Lindsey’s Hair Design’ it had said. The name didn’t give off any kind of connotation either way, which only enhanced my desire to check the place out. I kind of wished that Mandy would just be happy with her cut and not pressure me into switching stylists. But even that wasn’t much of an excuse because I was sort of in between stylists right now. The one that I had been seeing for years since I was a child had retired and I wasn’t too happy with the revolving door of stylists that I had seen at different places. The haircuts ranged from passable to poor, and I hadn’t grown attached to any through conversation or anything so I wasn’t tied down to someone.

Since Lindsey took walk-ins, I decided to head down there the next weekend.

I hadn’t slept much last night, on the account of the butterflies that were flying around in my stomach. I couldn’t figure out why I was so nervous. Was it because I was scared that I would walk out of her shop with some crazy and short style? I was a grown woman; I was fully capable of insisting on no more than an inch off of the bottom to tidy things up. Just because Mandy had to get something new didn’t mean that I had to. Or was it because I secretly wanted Lindsey to give me something new? Maybe I wanted to submit to a shearing. My heart had done a flip-flop at that thought as sleep had taken me.

The address on the card led me to a part of town that I rarely ever went to and only to pass by on my way to somewhere else. If it hadn’t been for Mandy elaborating on the plain address that was written on the card by saying that it was down a small side street only suitable for bikes and pedestrians, and a small hole in the wall place below street level I probably never would have found it. But there it was.

The side street was quiet and kept cool from the summer heat by being cast in the shadows of the taller brick buildings built up on either side. There were a couple of small businesses along the street including a florist and a dry cleaners, but near the end of the street was a flight of stairs that went down on the right to a door that had a painted sign above it that simply said “Lindsey’s” with a neon ‘open’ sign lit up. No windows. Nothing else.

Upon entering, I was still soaking the place in when Lindsey had gotten up out of the barber chair after seeing me walk in, put the magazine she had been reading down on a table and approached me.

“Hi, I’m Lindsey”, she said with a small smile at the corners of her mouth on an otherwise neutral face and extending her hand which I took. Her grip was firm, unlike most women I meet, but not over powering. I clumsily tried to match it after I felt embarrassed by my attempt at a limp hold. In the brief moment after our shake I once again cast a quick eye around the room.

The shop was very atmospheric. Other than the smooth, dark hardwood floor almost all of the colors in the room fell into the black to blue color range, with black being the most heavily represented. The walls and celling were black and covered in framed pictures of female hairstyles, and I couldn’t help noticing that a disproportionate number of them featured very short cuts. The room was unusual for a salon and was set up almost like a studio apartment would be with only one black and chrome barber chair on the right side of the room. The hair station consisted of a counter top with drawers below it holding hair styling equipment of all kinds that was separated into two parts by a multipurpose sink directly in front of the chair and below a large mirror. To my left was a comfy looking leather couch and a glass topped coffee table containing magazines, further along the left-hand side was a desk with a cash register and a large fish tank, adding some blue to that side of the room. On the far end of the salon was a neglected looking hair dryer and some shelves containing what looked like vinyl records. In the far right corner and extending along the wall toward the hair station were shelves containing various hair products. And finally, a door along the wall near the closest right corner of the room. The shop was noticeably dark, creating an ambiance and lending the shop to an informal environment, almost like the shop was part of somebody’s home. There were however, small lights almost like small stage lights over important areas of the room including the cutting station to give more than ample light to work by. I could also hear some music featuring bands that I didn’t recognize playing very low from a stereo in the far corner of the room that was barely audible.

“Come on over”, Lindsey said as she turned her back and moved to the chair.

“Mandy sent me over here, she said you were really good. She had an appointment with you a week ago,” I offered, nervously trying to make conversation to kill what felt like the eternity of time it took for me to walk over to that plain black but imposing barber chair.

“Oh yeah. She was a fun one,” she said as she moved behind the chair, slowly turning it towards me and pulling the black cape off the seat with a swish. “You must be Alexandra then.”

“Alex please. And yes,” I said, letting out a nervous but slightly more relaxed smile as I put my foot on the metal rest then turned around and eased myself down into the soft chair, sliding all the way back into the seat. I sat up straight, too unsure of myself to put my hands on the arm rests, so I folded them in my lap.

“Of course,” she said with another of those there, but not quite there smiles.

She turned the chair back to faced the mirror. It glided around soundlessly as my image came into view before me. She shook out the heavy PVC cape and flung it over me letting it settle and pulling it up around my shoulders before drawing it up around my neck. It had what felt like a thick collar that wrapped around my neck and closed at the back with a loud that made me very lightly jump at the sound followed by several smaller snaps. It was liquid black and covered the entire chair and the last few inches of it were ruffled kind of like the hem of a skirt.

She then put her foot on the pedal and pumped it up a few times causing my image to rise in the mirror. She turned the chair around again and leaned it back into the sink before turning the water on and adjusting the temperature until it was very warm. Lindsey pulled all of my hair back into the basin and slooshed warm water through it, until it was throughly soaked.

For some reason I felt exposed and slightly vulnerable on my back and tried to make myself relax as I heard the water shut off. I tried to calm myself by closing my eyes and focusing on my now warm scalp, my hands folded on my stomach, the comfy chair and the sound of Lindsey squirting shampoo into her hand, then melted to her touch as she ran the palmfuls of shampoo through my mane and began to vigorously scrub my hair for several minutes. I let out a long breath and was at ease for a moment. I could not see the shop through my closed eyes and was only aware of touch and the warm glow of the studio lights above. Just then the water was turned back on and my hair rinsed of suds. I could hear her squirting conditioner into her palms next and then felt the cool conditioner on my head. Lindsey started to massage it into my hair starting at the scalp. Her firm, kneading hands worked my head over, sending me off to a cloud of haziness for ten minutes as she massaged around my entire head in little circles. All to soon however, it was over and my head was once more rinsed with warm water. I heard a cabinet door open and close as she pulled out a clean, fresh, white towel and dabbed my hair before wrapping it around my head in a makeshift turban.

Lindsey tilted the chair back up again and I was spun around once more towards the mirror. My head felt clear and rejuvenated after being freshly washed and my senses were now taking in my surroundings and the corresponding sensations anew. She unsnapped the cape and it dropped around my shoulders. She reached for a roll of white tissue in a dispenser on the counter and tore a strip off then wrapped the light paper tightly around my neck before snapping the cape closed even tighter this time.

Lindsey unwrapped the towel and tossed it into a laundry bin. My soaking hair made a dull smacking sound as it fell onto the heavy cape in a spidery mess around my head. She walked over to the counter and pulled a large black comb from a jar filled with a blue liquid, giving it a few taps on the edge of the jar before walking back behind me and combing my all of my hair straight back off of my face. I felt the teeth of the comb rake across the top of my head as she removed all of the tangles. Once she was satisfied she formed a center part combed all of my hair down around my head. The comb made a light swishing sound as it came in contact with the cape. She was more vigorous now that the tangles were out, and soon my hair was splayed out around my shoulders. My already dark brown hair was even darker as it was wet and was almost as dark as the cape.

“So what are we doing with your hair today?” Lindsey asked.

I was a little startled by this as I had been so lost in my thoughts that I was caught off guard by the sudden and direct question.

“Um…” I began, once again feeling nervous and out of my element. “I was thinking maybe an inch off of the bottom, to straighten things out.”

“A trim, huh? You could have gotten that anywhere.”

My cheeks flushed a little bit in embarrassment.

“Yet here you are,” she continued. “Are you sure thats what you want?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, almost a whisper.

“You don’t sound very sure. Why else would you come here after seeing what I did to your friend?”

My eyes were now downcast. I was feeling my heart start to beat faster again and my breaths came slightly faster now.

“You don’t want me to cut it for you? Just a trim?” she asked, her eyes boring into mine in the mirror.

“Well…maybe a little bit shorter,” I said quietly.

“A little bit shorter?” she asked


“Ok,” Lindsey said as she walked forward to the counter.

“Just a little bit shorter,” I repeated, voice shaking a little.

“Ah uh, sure, whatever honey,” Lindsey replied absentmindedly, while she sorted through some tools on the counter.

I nervously shifted in my seat. Heart beating a million miles per hour. Lindsey came back with a smaller comb, silver cutting scissors, and several multicolored claw clips. She started by taking her comb to my wet head. She sectioned my hair into four parts. First she went all the way around my crown, separating the hair on the top of my head from the hair below, including my bangs which were combed back into the section that was held straight up in her hands. She twisted it around a few times into a small bundle of hair until it was all taunt, then clipped it in place. Next she sectioned off the left side and the right but left the back section hanging down. I could feel the tautness of the pulled sections of hair on my scalp and tried to concentrate on the hanging section in the back.

She put her hand on the top of my head and tilted it forward several degrees. My eyes strained to look up into the mirror even though I couldn’t see the cutting take place behind the chair. She combed the section down a couple of times for good measure then took some hair between her middle and index fingers close to my skin, way too close.

Before I could say anything, I felt the cold scissors against the back of my neck and heard a sssrrrrcckkk followed quickly by another. Over a foot of hair cascaded down the back of the chair and onto the floor. I sucked in my breath as if getting blasted by a sudden arctic wind and tensed up in the chair, which caused her stop for a second, letting the moment pass before continuing.

“What the heck are you doing!?” I exclaimed.

“Cutting it a little bit shorter, like you said. Now hush and let me work; its already done anyways.”

This broached stunned silence from me. She was right, there was no going back now. My body became like a limp noodle at that, defeated. I had no choice now but to ride it out as I would look even worse if I just got up and left with a huge chunk of my hair missing.

I felt the teeth of the comb on my neck again as she straightened the hair out before taking another section of hair into her fingers right next to the last one and proceeded to cut straight across the back of my neck. Only an inch and a half of hair remained of the more than twelve that had been there a second before. I sniffled a little and took in a small ragged breath. She finished cutting the length down to about an inch and a half and unclipped the right side of my hair. Again her fingers caressed the side of my head as she found the right length between her fingers and snipped the hair quickly and carelessly, bringing my right side down to a soft pelt. I could now see my ear again, and could take in the full scale of the damage and sat mesmerized with a thousand yard stare as she did the same to the left.

Once done, Lindsey walked back to the counter and put down her scissors and comb. I was too shell shocked to be scared anymore and I found that I had just become numb to the entire haircut. She squatted down to reach for a large set of black clippers that hung below the counter. As she did this my eye was caught by a small flash of pink that very slightly ride up over her jeans, it occurred to me that it was the brightest color I had yet seen and I didn’t realize that my eyes were still locked on it when I saw her eyes looking at me in the mirror as she stood up and we met for a second. She still had that neutral expression on her face. My eyes frantically darted downward to my lap at the dark, still wet locks that snaked over my lap and the chair before flying back up straight ahead into the mirror at my image, my heart pounding in my ears. Only my head was visible above the cape with extremely short back and sides hair and with a tight, wet bun pulled on top of my head.

I was so occupied with my nervousness that I had forgotten that Lindsey was handling clippers, the noise of her rummaging around in a drawer full of guards was a background noise to the cacophony of thoughts that speed through my head. I heard a loud snap that cleared my head and I looked to her clippers to see a long guard attached. She strode over the me and flipped the clippers on, and what followed was a very loud whirring sound that filled the shop. She reached up and unclipped the top section, letting it fall down around me before using her hand to expose my hair line in the front by moving my bangs out of the way. The next thing I saw was the clippers come around from behind the chair and move to the top of my forehead. I closed my eyes tightly as they met the front of my hair. Their tone changed very slightly as they cut into the still long and untouched top hair and were pulled back across the top. I opened my eyes to see them halfway back on my head, a trail of inch and a half hairs in their wake. The cutting felt different than with scissors, it felt…not unpleasant. Like someone was brushing my hair, but with the added feeling of the hair being cut off. I momentarily forgot my fear and apprehension and soaked in the burst of excitement that came from the shearing. My back straightened and my posture was corrected, I sat looking straight ahead, not wanting to distract myself from the sensations of the cutting. By now she was on her third pass, cleaning up the right half of my top, using her fingers to gently lift and separate some odd strands of hair that were left and remove them with the clippers. Now the right half was done, with only the left remaining.

I suddenly became aware of a strange feeling in the back of my head that I couldn’t place for a moment while she was dragging the slightly tingly feeling clippers over another swath of hair, causing them to land on my shoulder,

“It seems really chilly in here, do you have the A/C on or something?” I asked. Goose-bumps forming on my covered arms.

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be that cold, its probably just the shorter hair,” came the reply. “Usually girls like the cooler feeling they get from haircuts with me.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that, its just different thats all,” I stammered, not sure why such a simple conversation would have to be such a big deal to me. The silence hung like a cloud; I took my eyes off of my seated form and looked at her in the mirror and struggled to keep it going, “So..uh you said that girls usually like the way you cut their hair?”

Another pass began, and all the time since they had been turned on, the clippers whirring sound remained a constant presence. Their din echoing around the room.

“Ah uh.”

I fidgeted.

“You cut mostly girls hair here?”

“And women.”


“Enough talking.”

My mouth quickly closed and I suddenly felt embarrassed, so my defeated gaze moved back to study my ever changing head of hair. I felt my face get warmer and a slight rosy color came to my face.

With the last pass complete and my head a now uniform short length, she swiped her free hand over the top, searching for any stray hairs and swiftly running the clippers all over the top for a second or two for good measure. Only then did she turn them off and silence once again reigned over the salon. She used her hand to brush some of the hair off of my shoulders and gave the chair another couple of pumps, rising me up higher still before unclipping the guard and tossing it to the counter. I was stunned to see her holding the clippers with the #0 blade and not returning them to the counter.

How much shorter is she going to go?

If Lindsey read my mind she didn’t show it or didn’t care, I wasn’t sure which. She just turned the clippers back on and stared into my eyes in the mirror.

I tilted my head forward.

My heart skipped a beat and a ripple effect of tingly pleasurable sensations that started at my chest went up and down simultaneously, one going straight to my brain, and one coming to rest near my loins. The entire feeling took only a heartbeat, but the feeling at my loins took a second to dissipate. It had given me a strange feeling to willingly submit to this female barber, it was something that I had never done before and it caused me to shift uneasily in my seat. Lindsey apparently didn’t notice as she just moved the clippers to my neckline and started to slowly push them up to my occipital bone. Nothing about her actions seemed unusual to her while my mind had just been set on fire.

My breaths came slow and heavy now as I sat as still as a statue, still in my good girl posture, head tilted down, hands in lap.

A flick of Lindsey’s wrist sent a shower of little, mostly dry, clippings raining down around my head and over my body. She started another and I visualized them as they moved up the back of my head, taking me down to skin with only little sandpaper stubble that was barely there at all. I felt the cool air on the back of my bare neck and the clippings falling and sliding down into my field of vision that was a field of glossy black. The light would ever so slightly shine off of the clean PVC material of the cape and it was then I realized that what I had though was black was really a deep, almost black, shade of purple that could only be seen in the most direct of light; that and the raining clippings, mixing with the longer strands form earlier occupied my thoughts. I lost track of the few seconds that it took for her to finish peeling the hair off of my neck and once she was done she put her hand on the top of my fore head and drew my head back up into an up right position. I realized that my eyes had closed again and I wasn’t sure when that had happened.

I became putty in her hand as she cupped my head on this side or that, moving it to the flow of the clippers; rolling it a little this way as she pushed the whirring clippers up my sideburn, then folding my ear down and running it over them. The vibrations where soothing me now and I had forgotten all about what I was looking like, and I found myself, for the moment, not caring. One more pass and the left side was done; it was on to the right. Her fingers gently pushed my head a little to the left and slightly forward, this time starting at the back and moving the clippers forward over my ear, depositing hair on my shoulder and lap.

At last the whirring was switched off and I slowly opened my eyes. the top of my head sported a bush of hair that covered my entire crown; then, from the area above my temples, where the sides of my head just started to begin, and on down it was white. Except for short bristly hair, I had white walls all the way around my head and I could get an idea of what she was going for. It was a crew cut with nothing on the sides and back and boar bristle brush-like hair straight up on the top. Lindsey appeared at my side again with a smaller pair of clippers that, when turned on, made a much higher pitched buzzing sound. She proceeded to run them up and down, and side to side all over the shaved parts of my head, further reducing the short bristles to the shortest possible length that they could be cut with clippers. Her warm hands followed in their wake, brushing side to side over the shaved skin to clear away the lose clippings, sending them flying into the air to float down to the floor. The buzzing was like a bug flying closer then farther away from my ear, as they went up and down my sides and then the back again, followed by the firm sweeps of her hand. It was all that I could focus on; that and the pleasurable vibrations that were coursing through my body, giving me a low buzz of pleasure that never really subsided in my loins. She then carefully edged around the hair at the top of my head,z making a clean line separating hair and skin. At some point my eyes must have glazed over, staring unfocused at something on the counter while Lindsey finished her cutting.

Throughly satisfied that it was short enough, Lindsey switched off the clippers, unplugged them and returned them to their drawer, rousing me from my trance. I turned my head this way and that, looking at the sides and back in the mirror clinically, like you would study a new species or something as Lindsey turned the sink on for some reason. She tossed a white towel into the sink and picked up her comb and scissors once more. She started cutting the top of my head some more using scissors over comb to the sound of the running water. She blended the hair on top to the curve of my head slightly. Once done, she set her tools down and picked up a dry white towel and wrapped it around my neck, clipping it at the front. Then, turning off the water, Lindsey lifted the soaking towel out and rung out the excess water. Then this was wrapped and held to the back and sides of my head for one minute. The towel was removed and tossed to the bin; the cold air on my hot and exposed skin caused a slight tingling between my legs. The humiliation of having my head shaved was beginning to take its toll on me. My face flushed red, this must have been noticed by Lindsey as the back and sides of my head would have shown this too. I heard a whining sound ahead of me and when Lindsey turned around, she had a palmful of warm shaving cream which she applied to the back and sides. Soon my skin was covered in smooth, warm shaving cream and I knew what would come next. She wiped her hands off and picked up a straight razor. My head was perfectly still, aided by her free hand on the top of my head, tilting it slightly. I then felt the light scraping of the razor on my skin, the sandpaper stubble being peeled off slowly. My whole world became the slow, methodical strokes of the razor on my hot head; the unspoken eroticism kept my rapt attention. All that could be heard was the soft background music and the scraping of the razor. Only thin trails of cream were left in the wake of the razor; my head being tilted slightly to the right and left as the sides were cleaned up.

After the heavenly strokes had subsided, Lindsey took the dry towel and cleaned off the back of my head, and one more towel joined the others in the laundry bin. She walked back to the counter, scooped up some gel into her hands and applied it the my remaining hair then combed it up into a uniform position, giving my head a severe but perky look.

I felt the cape being unbuttoned and laid around my shoulders and then leaned back into a completely flat position. She then soaked yet another towel and got out another dry one which was tucked into the collar of the cape. What was she doing?

She took the steaming towel out of the sink and, after ringing it out, she laid it on my face so that it wrapped all over, with only my nose exposed. I laid completely rigid, not sure what to make of this whole thing. After several minutes, the towel was removed and she applied shaving cream all over my face and began long smooth strokes with the razor over my soft face. The stokes found no hair on my face but continued there paths anyway, clearing my face of most of the shaving cream. Why was she doing this? What was the point? Is this for her enjoyment or is it supposed to be for mine? These were the thoughts that went through my mind, as she silently went about her precise work. The masculine and unnecessary nature of the activity could not be interpreted as anything but erotic. I felt the tingling inside of me begin to grow again. It just felt so nice.

Once all of the cream had been removed from my face, I heard her retrieve more and put it on my eyebrows. I sat there, totally relaxed in an almost dreamlike state as she gently shaved my eyebrows clean off, leaving only smooth skin behind. After this she put the razor down and picked up an electric shaver and ran it all over my face, making the skin softer and shiny. It also sent wonderful vibrations down my body. Once done, she wiped off the excess shaving cream and lightly tapped on some after shave under my chin and squired some sort of lotion in her hand which she ran all over my face and began a five minute face massage.

After this she tilted the chair upright again and drew in some high arched eyebrows, giving me a mildly surprised look. And put bright red lipstick on me, giving me several coats to get it as shiny and glossy as possible.

The chair was finally lowered and the cape whisked off of me. I shakily got to my feet as she shook out the cape and folded it then began to quickly sweep up the hair off of the floor. I couldn’t take my eyes off of my reflection and my mind off of the idea that I loved my new look.

“So what do you think?” Lindsey asked.

“I like it,” I said with a smile, rubbing my shaved parts and prodding gingerly at the coarse hair on top. “I like it a lot.”

“Good. Since you’ll be a regular customer, at least one coloring is in your future. I’d like to see you as a redhead.”

“Yes, Lindsey,” I replied, totally mesmerized by this girl. I pulled twenty dollars out of my pocket and held it towards her.

“Oh no, the cut is free,” came the response.

“This is a tip,” I said with one of her signature small smiles. For the first time that day, Lindsey looked surprised and unsure as her eyes widened for a second. But only a second as she gave the biggest smile of the day and slipped right back to her in confident mode and was once again the one in control of the room. She took the money and set it on the counter as I started to walk out.

“See you in two weeks,” she said behind me.

“How do you know I will be back?” I answered, turning to face her.

“You’ll be back,” came the reply with one of those smiles.

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