Shirley The Buzz Cut Barber clips Tamara

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There are multiple stylists to go to in our small town, but only one barber. That one barber is a woman who, when I drive by her shop, seems to be a much older person with white hair. In the many times I have driven by her shop, I’ve only seen two people who were women getting their haircut there.

My name is Tamara, I’m 37, and I want to get my haircut by a woman barber. I don’t want a buzz cut or anything, but I want to experience sitting in a real barbershop, smelling the smells, looking at the clippers, and in general just go somewhere other than a salon. However, I don’t want to go to someone much older than I am, as I think I’d get an old lady haircut. Part of me has always wanted to get a clipper haircut, but I always suppress the thought and never really think it is something I’d actually do in the real world, only in my mind!

I drive by Shirley’s Barbershop several times a week just to peek in on my drive-by, and see if a woman might be getting a haircut in there, and to watch, just for an instant, the cut going on. Sometimes, the barber Shirley is sitting in the big, black and white, old barber’s chair. When she does not have clients she sits there and watches traffic go by through the big windows of the shop where there are two chairs, but she is the only barber I ever see there.

Last week when I drove by, she was sitting there looking out. I did my casual ‘peek’ in the salon as I drove by, and she looked right at me! She must think I am a peeping Tamara, I thought. I got caught. She locked my eyes as I drove by, and I could swear she raised her eyebrows.

Damn,” I thought to myself. She caught me looking. “Oh well, she must see people driving by all the time looking in to see if she were busy,” I thought. So I tried to think no more of it, but convinced myself to not drive by again anytime soon.

I drove by again in two weeks. As I drove by I was sure she would be busy with a client as it was Saturday Morning, and her busiest time. Wouldn’t you know it, she was not busy at all! She was doing her traffic passing by routine. As I peeped in during my drive by I said to myself, “Shit. She is sitting there looking out and I’ve been caught looking again.”

This drive by, when we locked eyes, she smiled. She smiled big, and kept looking at me all the while it took me to drive by. I almost rear ended the car in front of me! She was on to me I thought. Now she really does think I’m a mentally ill person with a haircut fetish peeping in her shop all the time. I could see her smile in my head for a week. What did it really mean?

I stopped driving by for a couple of weeks. However, I did see her again during that time! I was in a hurry shopping for groceries and in my rush I rammed my cart right into hers as I turned the corner of the aisle. I immediately said, before knowing it was her, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry maam.”

As I looked up, I saw that it was her! The only reason I knew was because of her smile. It was the same smile she gave me when I drove by recently. Oh, and of course the white hair. But I realized she was not old at all. It was only the white hair making her look older. She couldn’t have been more than10 years older than me! It was the short, white hair! And when I say short, I mean short. It was buzzed in the back, and on the sides, up over the ears, with an angled sideburn. The top had about 3 inches of length to it, though, and she looked very pretty! Her eyes were so blue. I was glued to her eyes.

It’s okay Tamara,” she said. She knew my name! How did she know me? Maybe she looked me up wondering about my bizarre window peeping. But, if she remembered my name, I must have made some sort of impression on her.

As she pushed her shopping cart by me to go down the aisle, I looked back at her. Her hair was 90% white, but I could see some black mixed in here and there, especially at her nape. She had gone prematurely white, but not 100% yet. She looked so sexy in her tight jeans walking down the aisle. I was breathless. I quickly pushed my cart to the check-out line, and left before she could catch me staring at her again. I berated myself for not using her name!

A couple weeks later I gave into the urge to drive by her shop again. The first time she was busy cutting a man’s hair, so she did not see me. I decided to risk another drive by, she’d probably be busy, so what would it hurt to catch a glimpse of her and a glimpse of someone getting their hair shortened up at her expense. But, alas, she was sitting there with no clients. She looked right at me. This time, in addition to that crazy smile, she waved at me! I thought to myself, ‘why are you driving by making a fool of yourself?”

 

I was so embarrassed, I did not drive by the salon for over a month. And when I did she was busy every time. As summer passed into late fall, I realized I really did need a haircut. But I was too timid and embarrassed to go to Shirley for a trim. So I just kept letting it grow, it was shoulder length now. But deep in my heart I knew my next cut would come from Shirley.

December came and I finally made a decision to get my hair trimmed by Shirley before Christmas. It would be a gift to myself. I did a drive by. She was busy. Later at home I looked up the phone number on the internet of her shop. I had my cell already to call, all I had to do was push the green button. I couldn’t do it. But I could envision the call in my head. “Hi Shirley, do you cut women’s hair (I knew she did), and if so can I make an appointment. Yes, my name is Tamara. Yes, that Tamara who ran her shopping cart into you!” But I could never push the call button. If I made an appointment it might be at a time when I was not keyed up enough to get my haircut. It would have to be a spontaneous, walk-in.

I knew that she was usually closed on Monday’s, but on Monday a week before Christmas, as I was driving by near her shop after I did Christmas Shopping, I noticed her “Open” sign flashing and lights on. She must have been super busy with haircuts at the holiday time, so decided to open on Monday’s in December.

I did a drive by. I was keyed up, my heart racing from the adrenaline my body released after I told it that this might be the time. She had a client. I was mad. I was going to stop and go right in, no questions asked of myself, and get a couple inches cut off. I decided to go park and think about it.

I couldn’t stop shaking I was so nervous that it might happen. My heart seemed to be beating right out of my neck. “She is going to feel my heartbeat when she puts the cape on me,” I thought. I was determined as can be to get a cut. I did another drive by. Still busy with someone else! On my third drive by she was sitting there looking out! She caught my eye! Not even sure why I did it, but I waved at her weakly. She looked back and gave me a hand motion to ‘come on in.” “Did she really just do that,” I thought. I glanced in one more time before she would be out of sight as I slowly rolled ahead in my car. She motioned again, “come on in.” This time I could read her lips as she did so, “come on in,” she mouthed. I’m not sure if she really was saying it out loud or not, but I got the message.

I parked down the street at the first opportunity. I didn’t hesitate or stop to think at all. I knew if I did it wouldn’t be good. I open the car door with determination and started walking to she shop.  How many of us have done this!  Many!  Shirley was going to cut my hair! I was determined. And this would be my Christmas Gift to myself.

As I entered the door, Shirley had already turned the chair toward me, and was patting the back of the chair. “Have a seat, Tamara,” she said. I at least remembered to use her name this time. “Can you trim a couple inches for me, Shirley,” I asked.

Sure, she said.” Again, patting the back of the chair she said, “Have a seat.”

She caped me, and put on a neck strip, and did some small talk about the weather as she put a hair comb on the back of my head to hold it up some. As she did, she used the tips of her fingers and ran them along my hairline at the nape. I shivered. I saw her smile in the mirror as I shivered. She knew she had elicited that response in me, and she was happy about it. She kept doing that for what seemed like an eternity, but I knew it was a very short period of time. As she did, we talked about how much to cut off. “A couple of inches,” I said. She said, “want to try 4 inches off? That would put me at a long bob. With her fingertips massaging my neck line, I said, “sure, why not.”

She picked up scissors and a comb. Before she started cutting she engaged in conversation again. “Wow you were in a hurry at the grocery store!”

Yes, I’m sorry I ran into you that day Shirley.” I remembered to use her name! “How long have you had long hair,” she said. I thought to myself, “Long?” “This is not “Long!”

She went on to say, “My hair was super short then, it’s grown 4-5 months since I saw you that day. I did notice her hair was longer, and tucked over her ears. “

I’ve been trying to grow it out, but I don’t think I can stand it anymore,” she said. “I’m gonna have to get it cut soon.”

I decided to admit to her that I thought her hair looked “just incredible” that day.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled broadly. “REALLY!” she said. “You liked it that much?” she said. “Yes, I thought it was amazing,” I replied.

You know what Tamara, you just convinced me to cut my hair short like that again!”

The feel of it clipper cut so short is an amazing feeling,” she said. “It turns me on,” she stumbled her words and continued on, “well, you know what I mean, it’s a tactile feeling that I like, that’s all,” she said. “And I love the sound and feel of clippers having control over me.

I’m going to make you my last customer today, and go get my haircut super short like it was that day right after we cut you hair!” “I have a friend a half hour’s drive from here who is a barber, but he does not use his license anymore and doesn’t cut hair for money, but he will cut my hair as a friend.” “I’m gonna do it Tamara!”

Oh my God,!” I thought. “What have I done by saying her hair looked good short?”

So, shall we cut your hair now Tamara, so I can go cut mine after?”

Yes, that’s fine,” was all I could think of to say. She was standing behind me with the comb and scissors, and I wondered if she remembered “we’ were cutting off 4 inches? I was nervous and excited. That’s a lot of hair to me.

My logical brain seemed to have left my head and floated into the sky, I was so anxious, nervous, and excited all at the same time.

Shirley said, “Have you ever had really short hair like mine was?”

No, I said.” Then, with no logical brain, and drunk on excitement, I said, “why don’t you cut it short like that Shirley!” She immediately took her scissors and placed it near my neck line and cut off 7 inches of hair, and threw it on my lap. “There, that’s a good start,” she said. She knew what she was doing. She knew there was no room for second thoughts now.

When the clippers ran up the back of my head, and up around my ears, filling my lap with hair, I thought, “This is my Christmas Gift to myself.” I thought I would hate the cut, but when the clippers had all done their thing, and my sideburns had been cut off square (I didn’t like that part!), and my hairline trimmed nicely with a straight razor and warm cream, I had already experienced warm feelings. I really liked my haircut! I thought I looked prettier with it! Shirley did, as she ran her fingers all over the back of my head and sides many times. “Sorry about the sideburns Tamara, I got carried away.”

I said, “well when you go to get your haircut you can get your sideburns cut off square like mine.” She smiled, and said, “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Would you want to ride with me to get my haircut,” she asked. I was thrilled to be able to watch her get her hair clipper cut off. And I would tell her barber friend that Shirley needs short sideburns!

Her barber friend did cut her sideburns off, just as she had done to me. Her hair was an exact mimic of mine. Two women with shaved heads in the back and sides, and a couple inches of length on the top. We were beautiful!

On our way back to get my car, she said, “Will you trim me up down there?”

I was ecstatic. We “trimmed” each other that evening. Two haircuts to remember.

 

 

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