My Excellent Job … with an Unexpected Twist, Part 2 – Readjustment

Prologue

Emma Pierce, the company’s new HR director, had forced me to radically alter my appearance. She had insisted I wear a suit and have my hair cut, despite me working alone amongst the computers in the basement. Consequently, the next couple of days at work had proved difficult and embarrassing.

The security guards in reception pretended not to recognise me with my hair buzzed short. If I was unfortunate to pass any other staff, they were making whispered comments to each other about my cheap smart suit. Their behaviour was tiresome, but once I was down the basement, shrugging off my jacket and tie, and undoing the top button of my shirt, I was able to simply get on with my job.

Although Emma Pierce did not seek me out in the basement again, she was nagging me by email after just one week. She reminded me that I needed to return weekly to Amelia to maintain my corporate hairstyle. It seemed overzealous as my hair had grown little. But surprisingly, the change was noticeable due to the severity of my buzzing. Emma warned me that if I failed to go back for my regular haircut and I failed to confirm I had done so by sending her a photo, then I would be violating company policy and I would be subject to disciplinary action.

Revisit

So, with a confusing combination of dread and excitement, I made my way back to Amelia’s Clippers. Amelia welcomed me warmly, and she seemed to remember my first visit. I found that greatly reassuring given my growing but unvoiced feelings for her. She behaved in the same flirty way that she had before, both in the manner she buzzed me and the way she spoke. I enjoyed it.

However, I was realistic. Doubtless, she acted the same way with all her customers to drive her business along and earn generous tips. Still, that did not make me feel any less welcome or for my experience to be any less exhilarating!

So, it became a weekly adventure for me. And occasionally I slipped in an extra visit, making the excuse I needed to look my best for an important meeting at work. At that time, I had not confided to Amelia that I was happiest when hiding myself away in the basement, away from all the other staff. After all, I did not want her thinking I was a geek!

After a couple of months of visiting Amelia at least once a week, a new poster on the wall near the mirror drew my attention. In her clean and unchanging environment, it stood out. My heart began beating faster when I saw that it referred to an unusual charity event scheduled on a Sunday in just over a week. It stated that family and friends were sponsoring women to have their hair cut or shaved by Amelia. A charity specialising in hair loss would receive the cash proceeds along with the cut hair. I had never heard of such a strange concept.

Before my recent enforced buzzing, long hair on women had held a strong attraction for me. In those days, I would have considered the advertised charity event as a hellish occasion. However, now my appreciation of long hair was in the past, I was greatly intrigued by the notion of women willingly donating their long locks.

‘That sounds like a worthy cause, Amelia,’ I ventured nonchalantly, indicating the poster. ‘But I do not imagine you get much interest in that sort of thing, do you?’

I genuinely could not imagine there would be more than one or two victims willing to sacrifice their hair.

She chuckled. ‘We have at least ten signed up, Sam, and half of those are being sponsored to have their heads completely shaved.’

‘What, all with long hair?’ I gulped.

‘When they arrive,’ she responded, adding a jokey menacing cackle, ‘but not when they leave.’

‘Oh,’ I said, both fascinated and excited, given my newly acquired desire to see all long-haired women lose their hair.

Amelia told me she organised the events every couple of months. And then she went on to explain how they worked. She seemed justifiably proud of how much she had been instrumental in raising for the nominated charities over the years.

‘Well done, Amelia, that’s a fantastic achievement,’ I said in genuine praise.

She studied me carefully for a few seconds. The intensity of her eyes suggested she was judging me. Deciding whether she could trust me. ‘Thanks, Sam, but it’s not just about the charity for me,’ she clarified, looking slightly embarrassed.

‘No?’ I asked, effecting an innocent tone.

‘Don’t judge me too harshly, Sam … but I, er, get a real kick out of cutting off long hair.’

Reaction

I gulped, wondering if I had misheard. I replayed her words in my mind, and the silence stretched out between us. Once I was confident that I had heard her confession correctly, I was unsure how to react.

‘Sorry,’ Amelia blustered, understandably worried by my reticence. ‘I should not have said anything … I just, er … no, forget I -’

‘Me too!’ I blurted out, to Amelia’s obvious astonishment. ‘Well, not cutting hair obviously, but thinking about long hair being cut,’ I blushed, wondering if my bizarre admission to a near stranger had been wise. ‘I … er … um …’

Amelia had finished trimming my hair, and she was smiling at me in the mirror. ‘Don’t worry, Sam, those thoughts and feelings are not as unusual as you might have imagined … even if it is not exactly common …’

‘Really?’ I questioned, feeling emboldened by her words, and happy for her not have immediately banned me from entering her shop for being peculiar.

She nodded, still smiling. ‘Look, Sam, don’t think me weird or anything but if you aren’t doing anything on that Sunday then I could do with some help and wondered if you would be interested in assisting me but not any cutting obviously but there is lots to do to set things up and check people in and keep the place tidy, …’ she blurted out, without pausing for breath …’ finally adding, ‘and so forth.’

Lost for words, I entered my characteristic goldfish mode and opened and closed my mouth several times. Eventually, I managed, ‘Why me, Amelia?’

She blushed. ‘Well, it’s … well, because I like you …’ she admitted coyly, ‘a bit.’

That was a surprise and, in the past, would have warranted a careful analysis of the words, context, and implications related to what she had said. A bit? Yes, I would take that!

‘Sure,’ I said, attempting to adopt a man-of-the-world tone that, unfortunately, sounded more like a mouse-of-the-world squeak. ‘And I like you a bit too,’ I mumbled.

Preparation

Following my acceptance of Amelia’s invitation to assist her at the charity haircutting event, we sat down together. She summarised the details of the location, timing, and what she would like me to do. I wondered if I was experiencing a very pleasant dream but, if so, I was in no hurry to wake up.

‘Sam, I really appreciate this,’ she enthused.

I smiled, excited, attempting to shrug nonchalantly. However, I saw in the mirror that my gesture looked like I was trying to dislodge a persistent seagull from my shoulder. I made a mental note to work on my cool speech and nonchalant gestures.

‘Oh, just one more thing, Sam. If you could take time off this coming Monday then we could spend more time together and make some preparations,’ she said enigmatically. ‘I do not normally open on a Monday except by special appointment. Some women with long hair are keen to donate their locks, but less keen to do so at a public event with crowds watching. I offer such women a free makeover and donate the hair to the charity on their behalf … and I get to enjoy the experience of chopping it off!’

‘You’re terrible,’ I grinned, while thinking she was remarkable and amazing. ‘That sounds like an excellent way of spending a day off!’

‘I know,’ she responded coyly. ‘And so, if you’re free, you could join me and get familiar with the process.’

‘Yes,’ I said eagerly, without a moment’s hesitation. I frequently performed server upgrades overnight on Sunday and took Mondays off in lieu. But I did not normally have such an exciting thing to do on my day off. ‘Watching you chopping off long hair sounds like an excellent way of spending my day off.’

‘You’re terrible,’ she grinned.

‘I know,’ I responded, but resisted the temptation to pretend that I could appear coy. But I was excited!

‘That’s wonderful,’ she said, exuding a genuine warm feeling. ‘I look forward to seeing you on Monday, but I have a huge problem that I need to resolve before then,’ Amelia said solemnly, ‘and I think only you can help me, Sam.’

‘I’ll be happy to help you, Amelia … if I can,’ I shrugged, slightly improving on my previous effort to look cool.

I wondered what Amelia was going to say as she marched purposefully towards me.

Restoration

‘Oh, Sam, I know you can help me,’ Amelia assured, coming to a halt before me and fixing me with her eyes. Unfortunately, she seemed too far away for her to lean in for a kiss. So, it was not such a surprise when she did something else. Bizarrely, she spun around on the spot, and I found myself staring at the bobbed hair covering the back of her head.

However, it was a much greater surprise when she scooped up her shoulder length hair, holding it up high. Her action had revealed that the hair on the lower half of her head, and around her ears, was short. It was not much longer than my buzzed hair, contrasting vividly with her sleek bob. I did not know what to say. ‘It’s called an undercut, Sam,’ she explained. ‘Some might say if offers the best of both worlds.’

‘It’s … it’s so short,’ I stuttered, captivated by the unexpected sight. At that time, I had never seen or heard of an undercut before.

‘Not short enough, Sam,’ Amelia complained.

‘Oh, really?’ I commented, more for something to say.

‘It is a tradition of mine – well, a superstition, I suppose – that I wear my hair up in a ponytail during my events, exposing the undercut. I did it once and one of the participants said she wanted her whole head shaved equally as smooth as my undercut! I was happy to oblige her at the time and encourage future donors to request the same.’

‘An excellent, er, marketing strategy,’ I joked.

‘Yes, perhaps, but that is not the point, Sam. It is too long. I need to have the undercut shaved before the next event. Completely bald,’ she exclaimed, grabbing my hand, and placing it on the offending bristles on her neck. ‘And you’re going to do it for me.’

When she grabbed my hand, the distance between us closed and my body reacted to our proximity. ‘Am I?’ I squeaked, not quite believing she wanted me to apply my non-existent barbering skills to her hair.

‘Oh, yes,’ she purred, ‘and by the feel of things behind me,’ she giggled, wiggling her body, ‘I am fairly confident you will enjoy doing it.’

I gulped, knowing she had sensed my body’s betrayal against her own. ‘Oh, er … right …’ I mumbled.

She unhooked her hairclippers, flicked off the guard protecting the blade and thrust the device into my hand. She then settled down into her own chair and bundled all her longer hair into a modest ponytail on her crown, leaving her overgrown undercut fully exposed.

I examined the hairclippers and flicked a switch. A deep vibration permeated my body. And a deep whine filled the air. Amelia grabbed a large towel and wrapped it around her shoulder in lieu of a cape. She lowered her head submissively. She fidgeted in the chair in excited anticipation.

Renewal

I felt out of my depth. My hand was shaking. And I knew I would be unwise to comply with Amelia’s earnest request. The seconds ticked by, as the irresistible sight of Amelia’s prone neck came into focus. I slowly guided the blade of the hairclippers towards Amelia’s hairline and pushed onwards into her hair. The note of the motor changed, and snippets of Amelia’s hair began to tumble down her neck.

I knew I had the ability to calculate the proportionate drop in revolutions per minute on a motor, when applying varying pressure a non-solid medium. It would have been an incredibly boring and pointless calculation, but it would have offered a useful distraction from the pleasant task I was performing. Consequently, with my mind distracted, it would have allowed me to stay fully in control of my body and its extremities.

Alternatively, I mused, I could simply enjoy the sight of the growing expanse of white skin left by the clippers and allow my body to do as it will. It was not a difficult decision to indulge myself with the second option!

‘Mmm …’ Amelia purred, stretching out her long moan of pleasure. I could not help feeling proud that my careful and gentle touch appeared to make her as happy as she was making me.

Looking good,’ I ventured, running a finger up her neck to check the smoothness of her skin. It was exceptionally smooth.

Amelia continued to purr like a very contented cat.

At the start of the shaving process, I had been apprehensive of touching her. With her willingly adopted submissive pose, I was able to clipper all the hair from her neck without needing her to move. Eventually, I risked gently adjusting her position by easing her head to one side so I could remove all the hair around her left ear. She did not seem to mind at all, or when I repeated the action on the other side.

‘Just finishing you off, Amelia,’ I breathed, quoting the phrase, loaded with a double meaning, that she always employed towards the end of each of my haircuts.

‘That’s for sure, buster!’ she squealed excitedly. ‘Where did you learn to care for a woman like that,’ she added breathlessly.

I was pleased that, in a moment of panic, I had not said something crass. I had never learnt to care for a woman in the way she suggested. And, even if I had possessed inherent natural skills, no woman had ever given me the opportunity to put them to effective use. ‘Practice,’ I fibbed confidently, accompanied by a practiced, nonchalant shrug.

‘Well, buster, you can practice on me any time,’ Amelia murmured as I silenced the hairclippers.

I gulped on hearing her praise of my newly discovered abilities. Acting like an experienced barber, I removed the towel from her shoulders, then I held up a hand mirror, allowing her to inspect my work. She turned her head from side to side, and she carefully examined her bare skin with her fingertips.

‘Thank you, Sam, it’s perfect,’ she purred, getting to her feet.

‘My pleasure,’ I murmured with genuine feeling.

Amelia turned to face me, smiled, and then kissed me full on the lips.

Epilogue

As I prepared to leave Amelia’s Clippers that evening, it was clear that we were both astonished by the events that had transpired. It had left us both confused and anxious about how we should proceed.

Out of necessity, we confirmed the details of my familiarisation session on the following Monday, exchanging coy smiles as we did so. I came close to suggesting that we did something together over the weekend. It would have been nice but, feeling more adult than I had for most of my adult life, I refrained, deciding it was best not to rush things between us.

After all, I already had two occasions scheduled when I would be working with Amelia. Wisely, I decided that remembering my shaving of her undercut and anticipating those forthcoming events would provide me with more than enough excitement for one weekend!

To be continued

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