The Club: Chloe’s Peroxide Perm

The morning sunlight streamed into Aaron’s penthouse, casting golden light on the spread of mimosas, fresh pastries, and fruit on the dining table. Chloe sat perched on a stool at the kitchen island, her long brown waves spilling down her back, sipping her second glass with a laugh that hinted at the bubbly warmth spreading through her. She looked radiant, innocent in her excitement, completely unaware of what the day would hold for her and she was more excited than nervous.

Trixie, standing nearby, was organizing her tools on a marble-topped table. Her movements were efficient, her expression unreadable, though every so often her sharp eyes flicked toward Chloe, sizing her up like an artist preparing to reshape a block of marble.

“This is going to be fun,” Chloe said, giggling as she swirled the last of her drink. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve always wanted to go blonde. Can’t believe I’m finally doing it.”

Aaron’s smile grew sharper, his eyes glinting with a quiet satisfaction. She had no idea how much further this transformation would go—not yet, anyway.

Trixie approached with a black cape and draped it over Chloe’s shoulders. Chloe caught her reflection in the mirror, her flushed cheeks and tipsy grin making her look carefree and ready for adventure. Chloe glanced at Aaron in the mirror, her grin wide. “Okay, let’s do this!” she said, giggling again.

Trixie’s hands moved deftly as she gathered Chloe’s hair into a low ponytail, securing it with an elastic. Chloe watched in the mirror, still smiling, a bit bemused by the process. Then, without a word, Trixie picked up a pair of scissors and, with one swift motion, *snip*, the ponytail came off entirely.

The sound of the scissors slicing through her hair broke through Chloe’s tipsy haze. Her laughter faltered as she stared at the thick ponytail now in Trixie’s hand and then at the jagged ends of her hair, now brushing her shoulders. “Oh. Um…” She stammered, the reality sinking in through her tipsy haze. “I didn’t realize we were going short too.”

Aaron smirked, his expression calm and reassuring, though inside, he relished the flicker of panic in her eyes. It’s part of the process, Chloe. You’ll look incredible.”

“Come on, Chloe. You had to know we weren’t stopping at just a color.”

Chloe’s cheeks flushed as she glanced at Aaron in the mirror. He was watching her with calm confidence, as though this was exactly what he’d envisioned. Part of her knew, deep down, that something like this might happen—she had seen the sharp cuts at the club, after all—but she hadn’t truly prepared for it. Still, the alcohol dulled her nerves, and she gave a small shrug. “Oh well,” she said, forcing a laugh. “I guess it’s just hair, right?”

Aaron chuckled, stepping closer. “Exactly. Now just sit back.” he said, his tone reassuring but firm.

Trixie got to work quickly, trimming away the uneven ends before reaching for the bleach. Chloe sat quietly as Trixie applied the thick, pungent paste to her hair, painting over every strand until her natural brown was completely concealed. The smell was sharp, and the sensation of the bleach tingling against her scalp was strange, but Chloe found herself laughing through it. Maybe it was the mimosas. Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of what was happening. By the time Trixie rinsed the bleach out, Chloe’s hair was a pale, buttery blonde. She stared at herself in the mirror, marveling at how different she looked already.

“I’m blonde,” she whispered, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I can’t believe it.”

Aaron exchanged a glance with Trixie but said nothing, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles.

But the excitement began to waver when Trixie pulled out a tray of small rods and began winding Chloe’s hair tightly around them. 

“What’s this?” Chloe asked, frowning slightly.

“Just adding some texture,” Trixie said smoothly, not bothering to elaborate.

Chloe nodded absently, too distracted by the process and her own reflection to question further. It wasn’t until Trixie pulled out the perm solution and began saturating the rods that Chloe’s curiosity turned to unease.

“Wait, is this a… perm?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly.

“Yes,” Trixie replied without looking up, already saturating the rods with the pungent liquid.

Chloe blinked, her throat tightening as the word sank in. “Oh,” she said faintly. Her laugh came out high-pitched and nervous, more a reflex than a true reaction. 

Aaron caught Chloe’s gaze in the mirror, his expression unreadable. She looked at him for reassurance, and he gave her nothing—just the faintest hint of a smile. He knew Chloe didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he didn’t intervene. This was exactly what he wanted. He knew she might hate it at first—but the thought of her adjusting, of wrestling with the change he’d chosen for her, thrilled him more than he cared to admit.

As the solution set and the minutes ticked by, Chloe’s nerves began to build. Her scalp tingled under the tight grip of the rods, and the smell of chemicals was overwhelming. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, her fingers gripping the armrests beneath the cape.  

Trixie worked steadily, unwinding the rods as Chloe held her breath. With each springy curl that bounced free, her reflection grew more unfamiliar. By the time Trixie had finished, Chloe was staring at herself in wide-eyed wonder. Her once-long, straight hair was now a mass of blonde, fluffy curls, styled into a rounded bob that stopped just above her jawline and hugged her ears. It was nothing like she had imagined, but it wasn’t as horrible as she had feared. Tentatively running her fingers through the soft, buoyant curls, she let out a surprised laugh. “It’s… not as bad as I thought. It’s kind of… fun?”

Aaron’s tone was soft, almost tender. “It’s… cute,” he said, tilting his head slightly, his smile hovering just on the edge of sincerity. But then his gaze hardened, his eyes gleaming with something darker.

“Too cute,” he murmured, his gaze hardening as he turned to Trixie. The nod was subtle but commanding, and Chloe stiffened as Trixie picked up the scissors once more.

“Wait,” Chloe said, her laughter fading. “You’re cutting more?”

But Trixie didn’t answer. Instead, she lopped off the curls covering Chloe’s left ear, exposing it completely, in one quick snip. 

“No!” Chloe cried, jerking slightly in her seat, but Trixie held her firmly in place.

Aaron let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle, the sound barely reaching Chloe’s ears but cutting through her nerves like a blade. He didn’t say a word, letting the echo of his amusement hang in the air as he observed her squirming helplessly.

Her exposed ear felt unnervingly bare and Chloe’s face flushed with heat as she stared at herself in the mirror. She bit her lip as Trixie continued, the blonde curls falling away in soft, fluffy clumps. Her other ear was revealed next, and the scissors crept upward, carving away more and more with merciless precision. With every cut, her embarrassment grew, each tiny motion of the blades a reminder of how short it was getting. Yet as much as she hated the vulnerability, there was something else too—a faint, forbidden pleasure in the act of surrendering, of letting the process unfold without stopping it.

When Trixie began working at the back, Chloe’s breathing quickened, each snip echoing like a soft whisper of finality, stealing what little was left of her length.  The sensation of the blades moving upward sent a shiver down her spine, and she realized with a jolt how short she was going. The indignation hit her first—how could it get this short?—but it was quickly drowned by an unsettling exhilaration that made her fingers curl beneath the cape.

When Trixie moved to the front, Chloe froze as the scissors hovered near the soft curls framing her forehead. Her chest tightened painfully as the blades claimed them, cutting shorter and shorter until only the barest trace of bangs remained, leaving her face shockingly open.

“Stop,” Chloe whispered, though her body remained perfectly still. Her reflection in the mirror was changing so quickly, so drastically, that she could hardly process it. Horror twisted in her chest, but underneath it was something she couldn’t name—something thrilling. She sat frozen, unable to look away, as if hypnotized by the steady snip of the scissors. How much more of herself would she lose? And what would be left when Trixie finally finished?

When Trixie finally stepped back and set the scissors down, Chloe stared at her reflection, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. It didn’t feel real. Her blonde hair was now an incredibly short pixie, tight, fluffy curls clinging close to her scalp.

“It’s… oh my God,” she murmured, her trembling fingers brushing over the springy curls. Her reflection felt absurd, like a bad joke, but it was her, and the realization sent a twist of discomfort through her stomach.

The hair was impossibly short, cut so close to her scalp that it framed her face like a delicate helmet of curls. She touched the hair at her forehead, the length barely grazing her skin. It felt so foreign. Even as her fingers traced the curls, she still couldn’t quite believe they were hers.

Aaron stepped behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. His eyes met hers in the mirror, his expression calm and satisfied. “You look stunning,” he said.

Her fingers brushed against her dark eyebrows, and she winced. “It’s so obvious I’m not a natural blonde,” she said softly, embarrassed by how stark the contrast was. Chloe let out a shaky laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. “I look ridiculous,” she said, her voice trembling as she ran her fingers through the tight curls again. “Don’t I?” 

Aaron leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. “You look incredible,” he said.

Chloe didn’t respond. She couldn’t tear her eyes from her reflection, caught in a storm of emotions: embarrassment, disbelief, and the faintest flicker of something like curiosity. She hated how short it was, hated the way the curls bounced with every tiny movement of her head, as if mocking her. And yet… it wasn’t all bad. The brightness of the blonde was jarring but strangely intriguing, and the unnatural contrast with her dark eyebrows made the whole look feel deliberate, almost edgy. Did she look silly? Or was it striking? She couldn’t decide, and that unsettled her.

Her lips curved into a small, cautious smile—an expression that didn’t belong to happiness or regret, but something in between. The discomfort lingered, subtle but steady, yet she found herself holding onto it. For reasons she couldn’t fully grasp, she liked it. She liked this.

Aaron chuckled behind her, his hands moving up to touch her hair. He ran his fingers through the curls, marveling at their softness. His touch made her stiffen at first, a reflexive recoil as if his hand would make the transformation more real. But as he continued, gently stroking the short curls, she felt herself relax, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“Why?” she had asked, her voice soft, almost pleading, a note of desperation buried beneath the question. Her confusion, her need to understand his motives, made it all the more satisfying for him. She looked at him, expecting kindness, and instead, he let her see what he truly felt: control, satisfaction, amusement at her predicament.

“Because I wanted to,” he said, letting the words sink in like a dagger. He didn’t sugarcoat it. Why should he? Watching her squirm was half the fun. The other half was knowing she couldn’t escape it, couldn’t undo it, couldn’t hide from what he had turned her into. “Because it’s fun,” he added, his tone light but with an edge that made his satisfaction clear. His smile sharpened. “And honestly? I was a little bored.”

Her breath caught as his hand tugged forcefully at a curl, sending a small jolt through her. “Aaron!” she gasped, her cheeks flushing hot.

Chloe’s lips parted in protest, but the way he looked at her—hungry, amused, and utterly unapologetic—silenced her. There was no kindness in his words, no attempt to reassure her. But his confidence, his clear delight in what he’d done, made her pulse quicken despite herself. It felt humiliating—and intoxicating.

He couldn’t help but laugh softly, his fingers grazing her bare neck just to watch her shiver. Then he handed Chloe a sleek black satin dress and matching gloves. “Here,” he said. “Something to complete the look.”

Chloe changed quickly, the smooth fabric clinging to her frame. When she returned, Aaron’s eyes lit up with approval. The dress was elegant, but the look as a whole was jarring, uncomfortable—yet undeniably captivating. She felt self-conscious, giddy, and completely transformed.

Aaron offered his arm, his smile unwavering. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Chloe hesitated, glancing once more at her reflection. Her body shivered with the rush of conflicting emotions—embarrassment so raw it burned her cheeks, but also a strange fascination that refused to be ignored. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself drown in the chaos of it all. When she opened them again, the girl in the mirror blinked back, unfamiliar yet captivating. Her face was flushed, her hair short and unnaturally bright, as if all of her softness had been stripped away. And yet, the absence of her old self brought with it an odd, quiet intrigue she couldn’t explain.

And as they left the penthouse that evening, Chloe found herself walking a little taller. She was painfully self-conscious about the curls, about the stares they might draw—but the discomfort was delicious, too. Every glance Aaron cast her way, every approving smirk, only fueled the strange pride simmering inside her.

Chloe didn’t recognize the woman she’d become—but she liked her.

visual:art

+22