Relaxing Reward

It was coming to the end of a long autumn day’s work, the sun wasn’t due to set for another couple of hours but it was getting low in the sky, casting long shadows in the street outside. I sat back in the comfortable leather barber chair, idly swinging side to side and watching people go by through the glass front of my shop. I pressed the button on the side of my phone and checked the time — I should probably start closing up soon, I thought. As I reluctantly rose from the comfort of my chair, the bell above the door jingled and my eyes met a young man’s. He was probably five or six years younger than me, dressed casually in a red hoodie, his light hair not quite at the point where you could call it a mess, but certainly overgrown and due a good shearing. He was clutching a bag.
“Afternoon!” I said with a smile.
“Hi,” he replied, perhaps a little nervous to be in a barbershop, “I found this, I think it’s yours.” He gestured the bag he was carrying towards me. I took it from him and glanced inside, confirming it was indeed mine.
“Thank you, I had no idea I had even lost this, where did you find it?”
“It was in the cafe just across the street.”
“Ah, I must have left it there during my lunch. Thank you again!” A thought occurred to me. “Look, I don’t take cash here, so I don’t have any to give you but you’ve been really kind, why don’t you take a seat and I’ll clean you up, on the house? You look like you could do with it.” He seemed a little hesitant. “At least sit down, and let me get you a drink.” He agreed and flopped into the still-warm leather chair.
“Just a water please.” He said.

I returned with a large glass of the finest tap water to find my guest lying back in his seat, legs extended and eyes closed. He let out a sigh as I approached. “You needed a good sit down then?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ve had a lot of work lately, night shifts, and this is my first day off in a week.” He said.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I know exactly what you need.” I placed the glass on the counter and tore off a strip of tissue, wrapping it round his neck and followed up with a cape in traditional red white and blue stripes. It lay heavy over his reclining body, and he let out a long breath, content. I took his glasses off and laid them on the counter too, carefully closing the arms.

I slowly ran my fingers through the fluffy mass of hair on his head, stroking his scalp and drinking in the soft texture. He murmured an unintelligible noise of pleasure as I lifted my clippers up to his hairline. I clicked them on, the soothing buzz turned deeper as I pushed them into his hair and the metal teeth sheared the first line down the centre of his head. There was no guard, so the entire length of his hair fell to the floor, adding a splash of brown to the black and white tiles, and leaving just stubble behind, pale scalp showing through. I buzzed another line next to the first, slowly, methodically stripping the top of his head of the soft hair. The vibrations so close to his scalp must have been something he hadn’t felt in a long time, such an intense feeling on virgin skin, but this was just the beginning. More passes of the clippers, now at his sideburn and moving upwards, cleared away all but the back of his hair, and I could tell my client was enjoying the experience, eyes closed in ecstasy, a gentle smile on his face. He was cute, and I was making him even cuter. I had to interrupt the laying back and tilt him forwards so that I could shave the back of his head, letting the clippers run up his nape and over the top of his crown, the hair falling forwards onto the cape with a satisfying gentle flop.

I dusted away the last few stray hairs from his scalp and let him lay back again, now with just stubble where there was only recently a mop. “Now for the best bit.” I said. Steaming hot towels were draped over my client’s face and head, hot, yes, but not so hot as to be uncomfortable. He lay back, only his nose showing underneath the towels. I let them sit, allowing the pores to open, and unexpectedly, a small tent to form under the cape. I smiled to myself. After a couple of minutes, I lifted off the towels, and the cool autumn air came rushing in, followed by cooler foam, which I squirted onto his face and head. I started to use my shaving brush to lather up my client, but decided he might benefit from the personal touch and discarded it in favour of my own fingertips. It was part lathering, part scalp massage, and I could tell he appreciated the feeling because the small bulge I had noticed earlier was slowly growing. Soon, his cheeks and scalp were covered with a thick layer of fluffy white foam, ready to be shaved smooth.

Now it was time for the most important tool, a gleaming steel straight razor that I unfolded from its wooden handle. I gave it a few swipes on a leather strop to make sure the edge was perfect. “Keep still.” I instructed, and held the skin of his cheek taut with one hand, while the other wielded the blade to slice any scruff away right at the skin. The razor didn’t tug or pull, just glided perfectly across his face, clearing away foam and hair alike and revealing his beautiful smooth cheek, flushed pink with enjoyment. I worked my way across his face, each short stroke cleaning up more of the scruffy boy who lay in front of me. Every few passes I paused to wipe clean the blade and to run my thumb across the freshly shaved area to check for missed hairs. That part wasn’t strictly necessary but I enjoyed the contact, and I was sure my client would enjoy my gentle touch too. From the noises he was making, I concluded that I was right. After his face was completely smooth, it was time to work on the scalp. It was much the same process, but the hair here was so much thicker that the rasp of the stubble being shaved was by far the loudest sound in the shop, heard over the muffled noises of outside activity and our own deep breathing.

I finished up shaving his head and wiped away the last remnants of white foam with a damp cloth. Double checking I had got every single hair, I stroked his bare head. Despite a pale shadow being visible where he once had hair, the skin was soft and smooth as glass. His eyes were still closed, and bulge still visible under the cape, and I had to coax him to sit up straight in front of the mirror. A stray clump of hair slid to the ground as I unclipped the cape, and I handed his glasses back to him. Sitting in front of the mirror was now a handsome clean young man, and as he looked at himself in the mirror he blushed. “Did you enjoy it?” I asked. He only nodded. “Good,” I said, planting a kiss on his perfect smooth scalp, “because you’re welcome back any time you need to relax.”

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