The Hottest Day

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“It’s so sticky, that’s why I only ever wore a ponytail when it was long,” Jo laments, peeling locks of her blonde hair off her neck. Pool day definitely sounded like a fun time— but it was only when the two got to the water on such a sunny day that Jo realized it wasn’t quite as enjoyable as the first few times. For starters, her hair had grown way past an acceptable length, where the ends were now annoyingly grazing her collarbones. Being so accustomed to it being above her ears also meant forgetting a hair tie, since she had never actually needed one for so long. It all started with Roxie’s encouragement, her coaxing Jo to experiment with all sorts of different short styles to grow it out into given that she was quite the ‘blank canvas’ to work with. As much as Jo loved being a Barbie doll for Roxie trying all sorts of hairstyles for her, and as fun as it was to try out longer varieties of short hair for the first time— every type of bob ranging from a sleek flapper bob with the nape shaved by a straight razor to a voluminous shag—, the itch to cut it all off only grew day by day.

“Take it as a type of delayed gratification— imagine how refreshing it’s gonna feel once you get so much of it cut off!” Roxie coaxes, stroking through her wife’s blonde, shoulder-length mane.

“And to think it was you that told me I need to always keep it a pixie,” Jo pouts, although it’s been primarily for her own benefit that she keeps it short. This longer experimentation might have been fun, but she’s getting desperate to have no hair touching her neck or ears again. She longs for freedom.

“Here’s a deal,” Roxie says. “Let’s look at the monthly forecast and pick the hottest day of the month, and that’ll be haircut day. Sounds good?”

“It’ll be kinda frizzy if it’s humid, though” Jo counters, fingering her waves that were already starting to fall into a mess with the length.

“But then those tiny little waves will be even cuter!” Roxie persuades her. “No more bangs sticking to your face,” Roxie says gently, leaning over from her pool chair to push off the bangs stuck to Jo’s face, “it’s going to be such a relief. Nothing touching that pretty forehead of yours” she says before kissing her forehead all over.

“I can’t wait,” Jo muses, closing her eyes as she starts envisioning haircut day. “Just wanna go back to not having to worry about my hair at all,” she wistfully says, already dreaming about her shorter showers and all that weight off her head. “Oh, but what if Fran is on her summer vacation on the hottest day? She usually takes it in August,” Jo perks up, remembering that fatal detail.

Roxie pauses. “Well, then you’ll just have to see what some stranger thinks ‘ALL off’ means.”

“Maybe we could try one of the other barbers at the shop. Maybe Fran might recommend someone quite scissor-happy,” Jo’s eyes light up, already imagining such a fun day.

Or,” Roxie cuts in, a curiously devious look now on her face, “we could go somewhere completely new. It’ll be like an exciting interlude— something out of the blue in your hair journey.”

Jo squints. “You have a place in mind?” she probes, though already having a hunch of what the answer was going to be.

“What about a barbershop? Like… a classic one. The type that only really does men’s hair,” Roxie suggests, bubbling with excitement.

“A proper barbershop? That’s… a bit much,” Jo is taken aback, not expecting something so extreme.

“Oh, but it’d be so sexy, wouldn’t it? A woman in a man’s world, sitting down in the barber chair, asking them to take it ‘all off’,” Roxie’s almost entering her own trance, just fantasizing.

Jo reads her wife’s face for a moment. “Wait a minute,” she finally catches on, resting her chin on a palm, “you want me to put on a show for you.”

Roxie smirks, realizing Jo could tell so quickly. “You were so sexy in your little rebellious phase, trying to get back at me,” she continues, “I can only wonder how this show would turn out in a place so foreign, yet so thrilling.” But Jo only looks on with suspicion, wondering how long Roxie must’ve had this scheme of hers in a backpocket. “Oh, come on babe. It’ll just be a bit of fun. And like I said— you can take it all off if you want to,” Roxie starts handing over the bargaining chips.

“So… anything is on the table?” Jo asks, looking Roxie in the eyes as she twirls her wife’s hip-length red braid around her finger, still curious to see how it might all turn out. “Even a buzzcut?” Her eyes light up as she mentions the one type of short haircut that’s always been forbidden.

“As long as it’s not pure skin on your head and there’s enough fuzz for me to rub, then I’ll allow it,” Roxie lays down her rules, and plants a kiss on the top of her wife’s pretty head. “But I’d have to insist they snip it all off first before they buzz it. You know what it does to me to see all that golden hair get scissored away,” she says, bringing Jo’s hand underneath her bathing suit bottom to feel how wet she is. And god, she is soaking.

Jo smirks, now her turn to scheme as she realizes she has an in. As much as she loves indulging her wife’s tastes in haircuts, this is definitely brand new territory. A traditional barbershop— and she thought she’d already gone down the deep end of haircuts when it was too short to comb. But to think Roxie actually might let her get it cut however short she truly wants. Even if it was as short as a buzzcut, which Jo had always secretly dreamed of trying. “I’ll think about it,” Jo concludes, sliding her shades back on as she slumps back into the pool chair— even though she’s already made up her mind.



One of the most important parts of a show is setting— Jo would know that, given the many stages she’s had to build and manage after working in theater for so long. Choosing the perfect stage adds the right amount of pizzazz to the drama that is to unfold, and Jo understands the gravity of the show she has to put on. Roxie had already given the base idea: a traditional barbershop, preferably one that’s catered specifically, and only, to men. And New York has no shortage of that, which only meant Jo was spoiled for choice when considering options. It has to be some place quiet without too much traffic— while it is a grand show to be put on, it’s still meant particularly for Roxie, and she’d prefer if this was more a private showing than a public one.

And so after their afternoon walk around Central Park on the hottest day of the summer, she simply grabs Roxie’s hand with a wink, pulling her to East 85th where the curtains were to rise.

Jo pulls down the handle of the shop door, swinging it open as the bell on it chimes. “Hello!” she greets the lone barber in the shop as she leans across the doorway lithely. “Do you do walk-ins?” she asks, sounding as earnest as ever.

He turns to the both of them, a stunned look across his face seeing such characters holding hands on the threshold of a masculine enterprise. “Yes, I do,” he answers a little warily, twirling his handlebar moustache in confusion. For a traditional barbershop, the middle-aged man still holds a modicum of style— clad in his well-fitted, white barber jacket, along with a slicked back style that’s almost reminiscent of Jo’s usual barber Fran, though in a much more masculine fashion.

“Lovely!” Jo exclaims as she tugs a little on Roxie’s hand, nudging her inside so they’re both fully in the shop now. “Babe, could you hang on to this for me?” she says as she hands Roxie her handbag after pulling her phone out from it. “Go on and have a seat at the back. I promise I won’t be long,” she gestures to the benches at the back of the shop, then gives her one last sly wink before she’s to get on stage.

Roxie only gives a pressed smile— her insides were just all over the place now trying to contain her excitement. Her own private show, where the front row was all hers. The two ladies head to their respective places, with Roxie to the bench, and Jo straight for the barber chair that the lone barber is still standing behind, perplexed.

“We don’t do ladies’ haircuts,” he says, skeptically surveying the two girly girls in their sundresses holding hands. “Perfect,” Jo says, “since I don’t want a lady’s haircut.”

She plops herself down in the chair as he asks, “you sure? We only do very short cuts here.” “Oh I’m sure,” Jo assures him, taking out her phone and showing him a photo of her signature crop, with the length too short to properly comb or get messed up. “This is what my hair usually looks like. So now, I want this overgrown mop” she rustles through her wavy blonde locks, “all gone.”

“So, like the picture?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head as her blonde tresses toss around her head for the last time. She then points to a photo on the wall that she’d chosen the moment she walked in— a quick form of ad-lib she’d anticipated for the occasion. “Like that.”

He turns to the picture, and doesn’t hold back a brief look of shock. “Short back and sides?”

“Yep! With just a bit of length on top, neat parting on the side,” she gestures to her forehead with a few fingers. “Like a little boy’s summer cut.” She glances at Roxie in the mirror who was already blushing— whether from the heat or Jo’s boldness, Jo may never know. Perhaps it’s both. Roxie’s mind runs in laps now, already fantasising that mental image of Jo’s lanky body clad in an airy sundress paired so incongruously with a boy cut.

The barber sighs, eventually giving a shrug as he realises how committed this unsuspecting woman in his chair is. Not an ounce of anxiousness to her— only an aura of confidence that makes it seem like this is her usual joint. “Very well, miss,” he concludes, turning to the dresser to gather his tools for yet another haircut in his shop.

“Can you believe it’s reaching 95 degrees today?” Jo grumbles as she fusses with her blonde hair— more than ready to be rid of such a mess on her head.

“‘The hottest day of summer’, the forecast said,” the barber title drops the show as he’s back by the chair, with a large black cape adorned with tiny white pinstripes slung over his arm.

“Definitely feels like it,” Jo replies as she gathers up her hair in a makeshift ponytail, holding it aloft to the side with a hand so her bare neck and shoulders are free for the barber to work with. “Guess I chose the best day for a haircut. God, it’s gonna be so cooling once I get rid of all this.”

The barber gives a slight chuckle, perhaps still a little unsure about the unusual scene that’s playing out in his shop out of the blue. He expertly flings the cape over Jo’s body with a flourish, sliding the ends behind Jo’s naked neck as he snaps it securely with a few clicks. Jo lets go of her ponytail as it swings back down haphazardly, all while the barber smoothens out the cape to make sure it completely drapes Jo’s figure save for her sandalled feet on the footrest.

“I’ll be snipping off the bulk first,” the barber then announces as he picks up his scissors from the counter, snapping the jaws of those blades like a warning.

“Splendid,” Jo says, glad that the barber is of the same mind as her and Roxie. A fitting build-up before the climax of such a plot.

The barber doesn’t even take out a comb to run through those unruly blonde locks— he simply picks out a section on the right side of Jo’s head. With his fingers, he slides out a long bundle of Jo’s blonde tresses horizontally, then holds it steady about a couple inches away from the scalp. He spares a glance through the mirror as the scissors get close, as if curious to see if there is any bit of hesitation on her face before this irreversible moment of truth. But there is only determination— only a focused look as Jo stares so powerfully at that hair that is held aloft, waiting so eagerly for those blades to munch into that hair after so long.

snip snip 

A soft gasp fills the air, but it didn’t come from the stage. It was the redhead in the audience— huddled in the waiting bench as she almost squirmed when she saw those long, blonde locks fall so gracefully onto Jo’s caped shoulder. Her legs are crossed, holding herself together even though it is only the beginning of such a momentous show.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Jo assures her through the mirror as the barber pulls out another section of hair so swiftly, “it’s just hair. It grows back. If you want it to,” Jo winks deviously.

snip snip, snip snip

The barber is fast and efficient— playing his role like he does every other day as it’s officially raining hair. With every lock that falls, Roxie clutches tighter onto her handbag, the adrenaline coursing through her as her wife’s mop is reduced so quickly. The barber is only leaving behind a rough few inches, with the entire right side of Jo’s hair now barely covering her ears while the rest of it is still so long and unruly.

He continues his march of the scissors towards the back of Jo’s head, holding up those tresses from the nape out of her sight as Roxie is left to watch it in full focus, seeing those feathery blonde locks falling to the floor right in front of her.

snip snip, snip snip 

Roxie’s tempted— to just reach forward ever so slightly to pick up those fallen pieces of gold, but she grounds herself. She’ll have enough indulgence just from the scene, and she’ll have to remain composed for the length of this show that was only getting started.

The back of Jo’s head is soon shorn so roughly, leaving behind a shorter mess of hair around the nape. Not quite the fuzzy path Roxie was used to, but she knew it was all a work in progress. The barber moves over to Jo’s left, starting on that last long section to shrink down with ease.

snip snip, snip snip

With only a few more rough snips, the base work is done— Jo’s mop is shorn, albeit now in a shorter, messy mop. Her wavy hair is springing about her head now, curling ever so slightly as the ends are long enough that they’re tickling around the top of her ears. As the barber returns to the counter to ready his next set of tools, Jo takes a moment to swing her hair around— letting that short, rugged cut toss about her head. By her standards, it’s still far too long, but it’s a massive improvement from what she started with a few minutes ago. And what she started with is piled on the floor in a fluffy blonde mound, which Roxie makes sure to take a photo of.

Pop, bzzz

Roxie jumps in her seat, looking back up to the centre of the stage when she hears that familiar device whir to life. Unlike the one typically wielded by Fran, these are more industrial-grade ones that sound harsher— filling the room with its menacing hum. But not even that can make Jo flinch. She’s still primly seated in the chair, legs now crossed as she awaits those familiar blades touching her scalp once more.

The barber begins on her right side, using a free hand to move aside some of those short, blonde locks before positioning the clippers at the base of her cheekbones. Without further ado, he propels them right up into that mane.


Jo’s smile only grows as she hears that delightful sound of hair clashing with the clipper blades— relishing in the way that it munches so close to her scalp that it tickles it. The barber runs the clippers up her right side, stopping just shy of her temple before flicking the clipper away. Roxie’s heart skips a beat as she sees the thick chunk of blonde just helplessly tumbling down the cape towards Jo’s lap and the fuzz left behind.

The barber doesn’t take a moment to falter— he simply begins another pass, poised to fulfil the wish of yet another customer that has decided to sit in his chair.

Bzzaaaa Bzzzaaa

Heavy bundles of Jo’s hair keep cascading down her shoulder, forming a mound that’s gathered in her lap. With a sneaky look at Roxie, Jo taps the cape from underneath, sending some of it sliding all the way down to plop onto the floor. Roxie bites her tongue, controlling the urge to moan. It’s one thing to watch a beautiful scene in the comfort of her home through a screen— and a completely different, yet visceral one to watch it live right in front of her eyes.

The barber soon moves towards the back, where he’s about to start cleaning up Jo’s nape that’s been unkempt for too long. Roxie’s always loved this part— the way Jo looks so submissive when she has her head pushed down. But this time Jo doesn’t even wait for the barber to tilt it forward: she simply bows her head instinctively, as if she knows he’s about to begin his work there. As if she’s the one in control of the haircut. And the confidence was irresistible to Roxie. The barber follows Jo’s lead, planting those clippers at the base of the neck before moving them up the back of her head.

Bzzaaa bzzaaa

Jo may not be able to see much of the action at this part, but she still holds her head bowed as resolutely as she can, enjoying the head massage that came with the shearing. Roxie, on the other hand, gets to witness those clumps of blonde sliding down the back of her wife’s neck— falling in torrents onto the floor if they’re not caught at that little cape-covered section at the back of the chair. With each pass of the clippers, her wife’s neck becomes more exposed, returning her nape to that former, fuzzy glory that it’s always meant to be in. Watching the shape of her wife’s neck become more defined flusters her— reminds her how much she was truly ruled by those little parts of Jo. And to think it was all Roxie’s idea to cheer her on to grow it out. Oh, the indulgence she had been missing out on.

It didn’t take long for the back of Jo’s head to be cleaned up neatly into fuzz, and like clockwork, Jo tilts her head up and slightly to the right— knowing exactly when the barber is to begin on that next section on her left. And without skipping a beat, he sends the clippers in.

By this point the cut is finally starting to take shape: Jo’s right side is so closely shorn that her ear pokes out adorably, and in just a few more passes of the clippers the left ear will follow suit. The top, though, is still left relatively untouched— long enough that it’s still floppy and sweeping all over Jo’s eyes as her head tilts around, all while the sides are being plowed away.

The last thick clump of blonde gets shorn off soon enough, and Jo’s head feels as light as air. Her ears are finally rid of the tyranny of her annoyingly long hair— now only to be graced by the air conditioning of the shop. She couldn’t wait to feel the summer breeze outside.

The barber spends a few more passes around the head now, making sure every patch of fuzz is buzzed evenly all while Jo enjoys that addictive vibrating across her scalp. The clippers are soon shut off, and a brief intermission is in play. While the barber goes back to his counter to replace the clippers and gather his next set of props, Jo is left to admire herself in the mirror— head turning from side to side so seductively as she examines the progress.

Both hands of hers are out from under the cape, already beginning the physical inspection. She stifles a moan as she rubs that fuzziness, making sure she’s making direct eye contact with her audience that can only sit so jealously in the bench for now— awaiting her turn to touch that’ll only come after the show has ended. Oh, how Roxie longed to run her fingers through the soft pelt, interweaving it with those longer locks on top that give her the most divinely tactile experience. It’s a mystery how she’s gone so many months without even feeling it, and now seeing it return right in front of her eyes, she just wants her hands all over it already.

Jo returns her hands under the cape as the barber returns, with a spray bottle and comb in hand. He starts misting the hair on top with spritzes of water, combing those blonde locks straight backwards and off her face. Jo secretly enjoys this part— how those little droplets of water start soaking her scalp like a preview of her post-haircut shower, which was always such a refreshing experience. She couldn’t wait to have those shorter showers and to be able to dry her hair in no time.

Once sufficiently damp, the barber replaces the spray bottle with his trusty pair of scissors once more. He starts at the back of the crown, combing up a section just above the buzzed nape before holding it with his forefingers.

snip snip snip 

The steel blades slice off the blonde tufts that poke above his forefingers, leaving behind just about an inch in length if Roxie’s gauging it right. He repeats this motion so efficiently— combing up a bundle of blonde locks, then taking the length off so quickly with a few clicks of the shears. This part is always so mesmerising to Roxie— while the clippers are chock-full of action in shearing away so much with so little effort, the scissors showcase finesse and precision which is a feast for the senses. The barber works in a rhythm, with the symphony of snips filling the air as she watches the overgrown length on Jo’s head become reduced so gradually.

snip snip snip, snip snip snip 

The layers near the back of Jo’s hair are now so short that the waves are defined— almost like textured curls that adorn her head so adorably. The barber leaves the length a little longer as he works his way towards the forehead, making sure there’ll be enough to part to the side just as his client had requested. Soon enough, he reaches that front-most section, where that defining bit of action is to happen.

He pushes those last long locks forward first, letting them fully drape Jo’s eyes before combing them straight up. He holds that final section firmly with his forefingers, leaving such a meagre length between it and her forehead.

snip snip snip 

Jo’s smile widens as those blonde locks trickle down past her face, dropping straight onto the mass of blonde that’s already gathered in her lap. When the barber lets go of the bangs, the remaining hair stays up in place— with how damp and short those locks that jutted out are, there’s nothing to make it fall and end up sweeping her brows. It stays so firmly out of her face, as she’s always preferred.

“How’s the length, miss?” The barber eventually asks as he combs through the hair, parting the blonde hair to the right to show how it would look. “If it’s alright, I can start blending in the sides.”

Jo takes it as her cue to get her hands out from under the cape once more, where she starts tousling through that short crop that’s left on top. She hums approvingly as she feels that familiar length on her crown gracing her fingers once more, as if reacquainting herself with an old friend. Oh, she’s missed this landscape on her head so dearly, and she could only imagine how much more her wife in the audience misses it.

But as her hand reaches the front section to finger through that short parting, her lips quirk unsatisfactorily. Something about this part feels amiss. The way Fran always did it made it so it was all in one length, where the front would fall naturally into its part without having to be combed. She grabs that front section— already an ill omen given that she typically would never be able to grab it at all if this was cut by Fran’s hand— then frowns as she realises that it’s ample enough to pull out in front of her face, even if it is ever so slightly. To any onlooker, this may already seem like such a shockingly short and bold cut for a woman. But Jo, being the crop connoisseur she is, has high standards— and by her standards, the barber’s left her hair far too long. A little unexpected, but she didn’t plan on having this hiccup damage the overall direction of the plot she’d originally intended.

“Babe?” Jo calls out to the waiting bench in a singsong voice, looking at her wife through the mirror. “What do you think? Short enough?” Jo invites a bit of audience participation— even if she knows how exactly she wants to direct this show.

Roxie only looks on with stunned eyes, not expecting herself to have such a role in this. “Uhh,” she finds a bit of courage to voice out, but can’t really form anything too coherent. The show had caused enough indulgent chaos that she wasn’t quite functioning the way she wants to.

“Ah, you’re right, babe, it’s definitely too long,” Jo eventually takes charge once more, a slight dissatisfaction to her tone. “The sides are a #2, right?” She then asks the barber, sounding like an expert on the topic.

“Yes, miss,” he replies, a slightly impressed look on his face.

“Hmm, okay. You can just ditch the scissors,” she continues as the barber’s still hovering around the chair, awaiting her command.

He raises a brow. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s just buzz off the top as well,” she declares, keeping a watchful eye for Roxie’s response. “#3 on top, please.” Roxie’s eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. Her teeth clamp down on her tongue, holding back so many urges as the plot twist is presented so suddenly.

“So, a buzzcut, miss?” The barber asks, still a tad apprehensive.

“Yes, please: 3 by 2. It’ll feel amazing in this heat if I didn’t have any length on top,” Jo firmly commands with an electrifying confidence, and keeps talking for the benefit of Roxie’s arousal. “Won’t have to mess it around or have any hair touching my skin at all. Hell, I don’t even wanna think about my hair for the rest of summer. It’s too hot for hair,” she continues, keeping her eye contact with her prime audience as she puts her hands back under the cape. “At this point buzzing what’s left off is just a trim, right, Rox?” she cheekily asks her wife, who nods while pressing her legs together.

“Certainly, miss,” the barber relents, slowly but surely getting used to the surprises in store from such an unexpected customer for the day. He sets the scissors back down, then picks up the clippers once more before fitting the necessary guard on its head.

Pop, bzzzzz

The clippers hum back to life, but this time the butterflies are raging uncontrollably in Jo’s stomach. Up until now, everything had been familiar— the short back and sides and the cropped top were not very new experiences. But now, for the first time, she’s actually going to feel those clippers right on top of her head. The nervousness starts to build up, but it’s paired with a bit of ecstasy as she knows she’s been desiring this for so long.

The barber tilts her head forward ever so slightly— this time Jo has to be the one following his lead in such an unfamiliar phase of the haircut— and her short bangs fall a little forward onto her forehead. The barber then positions the clippers right on the centre of Jo’s forehead, with his free hand holding the cord of the clippers aloft to the side so that it doesn’t get in the way. The adrenaline is pumping in the room— not just for Roxie, but also for Jo as she feels those blades hum against the top of her skull for the first time. She glances up to stare at herself in the mirror, ready for this ultimate experience.


The barber makes a direct path through the middle of her head, and both women need to hold back a gasp. As the pass is completed, loose blonde waves simply slide down her face in a clump, joining its other lost brethren on the cape.

Bzzaaaa, bzzzaaaa

He remains composed, making pass after pass so cleanly over the top of Jo’s crown as she has to squint now— not prepared for the relentless torrents of hair that’re tumbling past her eyes so quickly with her head tilted down so strategically. Roxie has become an absolute mess— unsure how many times she’d already gotten wet, and already anticipating worse. Jo had been such a swaggering, confident figure for most of the show, but now seeing the hints of cracks— showing a bit of submissiveness as she’s overwhelmed by the buzzcut she’s receiving (which she so poetically asked for)— Roxie’s just out of control.

The barber works so effortlessly here, manoeuvring the clippers all over the top of Jo’s head so smoothly to remove any trace of her tousled hair— leaving behind only a dark blonde fuzz. With a few more firm passes across the crown, the bulk of her hair is all buzzed so efficiently, while only short fuzz is left standing on her scalp.

Once the torrent of hair stops falling in front of her face, Jo can finally settle herself back into the groove— able to see the process so clearly in the mirror as she surrenders to that humming device that’s marching across the top of her head. Feeling clippers on her sides and back was always so satisfying like a massage, but now that she’s felt them so comfortably all over the top of her head, she’s absolutely hooked.

Her head’s finally tilted straight back up as the barber makes his cleanup passes across the head— meticulously going over any spot he’s missed. The cut has practically taken its full shape already, and Jo is in love. The top is just roughly a notch longer than the buzzed sides, where it’s not long enough to even think about tousling, but still with some length that it’ll feel so soft to rub. Her first buzzcut.

Her eyes wander to Roxie’s reflection in the mirror, who’s curiously smirking. Roxie is hunched forward a little, with her chin resting on a palm, watching this final arc of the show play out. She’s spent the entire time so addled with desire, but now a modicum of confidence has taken over her stance. Perhaps in preparation for the post-show celebration.

The clippers are soon turned off, much to both women’s dismay. Jo’s almost like a bobble head in the chair now— turning her head this way and that, admiring every single angle of this new look that she never thought she’d one day long for during her many years of having long hair she mindlessly kept ponytailed. But that was the old Jo, whose confidence was unveiled when she cut off the ponytail and let the bombshell emerge. Just as she’s about to take her hands out from under the cape, she’s dissuaded when she sees the barber returning to her side.

The scissors and comb are back in the barber’s hands, which strikes Jo a little oddly— surely, there isn’t enough hair on top of her head to even be snipped off anymore? But the barber simply gets to work, focusing on the sections between the top and the sides as he blends in the length with precision. He uses a scissor-over-comb technique as he sweeps the comb up across the sides of the head, making sure the #3 blends in smoothly with the #2.

snip snip snip, snip snip snip 

The tiniest clippings of blonde shower around her head as the barber carries on determinedly, making sure the length is perfect. There isn’t quite as much ‘action’ at this part, but when the barber finishes blending in, there’s that slight difference in how the lengths merge with each other that makes it all the more sleeker. Roxie’s quite impressed with this barber’s attention to detail— something that she knew she could expect from a proper barbershop. Fran may have had a way with making Jo look fierce with her super short, signature crop, but now here in this foreign setting, the barber’s an expert at making Jo look sharp and proper with such a clean buzzcut.

Once satisfied, the barber puts his tools back down, taking a moment to dust his arms. He then opens up one of the cupboards near his counter to pick up the next prop. “Ooh,” Jo lets out as the barber wraps the hot towel on her neck and sides, pressing it in for a moment to make sure the warmth settles into the skin. He then tucks the towel into the collar of the cape, all while Jo looks on a little confused— unfamiliar with this part of the cut. Roxie, on the other hand, watches with full knowledge now: suddenly the real expert in the shop.

“Would you like the sideburns natural or straight, miss?” The barber asks as he unsheathes the straight razor, checking the sharpness of its blade.

“Uhm,” Jo falters, not at all anticipating this part of the show. She didn’t read this far into the script.

“Straight,” Roxie calls out from the bench authoritatively, realising she must help take charge now.

“Yeah, straight,” Jo tries to parrot her— though the barber seems to already understand the shift in power that’s happened.

He starts on Jo’s right, tilting her head ever so slightly to the left as he positions the razor right at the sideburn. With a firm scrape, the small fuzzy patch right beside her ear is erased. Jo’s eyes widen, watching as her sideburns are so simply scraped off— razored cleanly in a line that’s high up, near the top of her ear, as she finally understands what ‘straight sideburns’ actually mean. The barber folds down her ear, expertly carving across the hairline to make sure it’s in a delicate curve as it arches towards the neckline.

The barber tilts Jo’s head accordingly as he moves around, taking a moment to wipe the blade on the towel after every few strokes of the razor. Roxie is hypnotised at this stage— watching the barber clean up her wife’s neckline and sides so carefully as her cut is being shaped up to perfection. There isn’t a lot of hair being cut here (save for Jo’s sideburns being so unceremoniously shaved, which Roxie took great pleasure in noticing Jo’s surprise about), but she admires the intense attention to detail it adds. Such a drastically short haircut may have such meager length to it, but there’s still countless room for precision to make it look as sharp as ever.

It wasn’t long before the barber was on Jo’s left, doing the final few strokes of the razor to clean off that last bit of her left sideburn. Once satisfied, he sheathes the razor before replacing it back on the counter, then untucks the towel from the collar of the cape. He wipes the sides and back to catch a few of the minute, stray hairs, making sure to spare a few rubs of the towel across Jo’s freshly buzzed head as well as her goosebumps start to flare. Roxie watches with keen interest, noticing how Jo’s face (and her cute little ears) have turned all red.

“All done,” the barber announces as he tosses the towel into a bin beside the counter. He then swivels the chair around so Jo’s back is facing the mirror and she’s directly facing her wife in the audience, then gives her the hand mirror. “Is this okay, miss?”

Jo gets a hand out from under the cape to accept the mirror, carefully straightening in front of her face to get a full look of the final cut. Roxie’s intoxicated by Jo’s little reactions— how her face almost instantly lights up when she sees her freshly buzzed head so up-close, turning side to side so she can admire the buzzed nape with its cleanly shaved neckline through the double reflection. Jo’s other hand leaves the cape, eagerly reaching up to finally feel that buzzed landscape on her crown she’s been dreaming of since making the plan for haircut day with Roxie.

“Mmm,” she hums so indulgently as her eyes are almost shut. This is the feeling she’d been missing for so long— to be able to run her hand over her head and not even think about her hair getting messed up. But instead of the usual soft, wavy tufts that are elusively hard to grasp when she usually gets her hair cut, this time it’s just the shortest of hairs standing at attention without even the suggestion of being grabbed on. The dark blonde fuzz is a flattering colour against her sun-tanned skin, though she couldn’t wait to get her hair sun-bleached soon. Beach days are actually going to be enjoyable again without any hair.

“What do you think, babe?” Jo eventually turns to her audience— the one person this entire show was meant for— as she tries to reestablish her position as the lead of this drama.

But Roxie isn’t having any of it. The moment she saw the cracks in confidence at that crucial, turning point in the show, she knew Jo wasn’t ever truly in control. And so for the first time in the course of the show, Roxie gets to her feet. She struts towards her wife in the chair who’s looking on with shock— not expecting this highly-involved audience participation from out of the blue.

For once, Roxie is towering over Jo who’s still seated so primly in the chair, and Roxie relishes in it. Her hand immediately goes to Jo’s chin, firmly taking hold of it as she tilts her wife’s head around, keeping a stern look as she conducts her close-up inspection of the buzzcut. The barber’s work is impressively sharp, where even for such a ‘simple’ haircut of clippers all over, he’s made sure the hairline on the sides and back is artfully carved. Roxie teasingly runs a polished fingernail down the bare patch of skin beside Jo’s right ear, where her sideburn used to be. Jo beams as she looks up at her loving wife longingly, relishing in that feeling of Roxie giving her so much close attention.

Roxie’s attention eventually turns upwards, and she so badly wants to rub that soft, fuzzy landscape that’s not just on the sides and back as she’s used to, but is now on her wife’s entire head— but she has to hold herself back. She knows that her composure would crumble almost immediately if she even tried. Instead, she gives the top of her wife’s head one quick, passing rub from forehead to the back— and has to bite down her tongue as she does so— just to get a quick feel of the length. And the length is perfect. Her hand demands more, but she knows she’ll get more much later once she’s marched Jo back into bed and is able to have her all to herself. And to think she once thought Jo’s signature tight crop was a drastic look on her wife, yet somehow they’ve both found themselves going further down the extreme end.

“Very neat,” Roxie eventually approves, a small, controlled smile forming on her lips. “Simple, but sharp. A fitting haircut.”

With a brief peck on her wife’s bare, totally exposed forehead, Roxie exits the stage, retaking her seat as Jo’s flustered— still reeling from her wife’s sudden involvement. The barber takes this as his cue, returning the hand mirror to the counter before picking up the neck brush. Instead of just the sides and back, which Jo was always used to, he gives Jo’s whole head a good dusting with it— making sure every stray clipping is swept off while unknowingly teasing the lack of hair on her head now. He undoes the cape from behind her neck, then cleanly whisks it off Jo. With a few firm flicks, all of that blonde overgrowth slides to the floor, only adding to the great mass (and mess) of her tresses on the floor.

Jo steps out of the chair, lightheaded, having to reacquaint herself with so little hair weighing down on her after so long. She turns to face the mirror, feeling like a diva in that buzzcut that’s so beautifully juxtaposed with her flowy summer dress. Before she could even think about reaching for her purse from Roxie, her wife had already stood up to pay the barber.

“Keep the change,” Roxie thanks the barber.

“What about a haircut for you too, miss?” The barber shoots out of the blue to ask.

Roxie laughs and twirls her hip-length hair that’s bound in two braids to keep her cool in the summer heat. “You’re very kind, sir, but it’ll just be her for today,” she simply replies before clinging onto her wife’s bicep. “Maybe next time, though,” she says teasingly while glancing at Jo, who knows her wife’s gorgeous red tresses are too sacred to ever face scissors. “I’ll definitely have to march her in here maybe once or twice more this summer to keep her mop in check. God knows it grows like weeds,” she remarks as she gives that fuzzy head a playful rub, gripping harder on her wife’s arm as she’s holding it together in this final act. “Babe, say ‘thank you’ to the kind barber.”

“Thank you,” Jo says, confidence still shaking from all the flustering her wife had been slyly doing.

“It’s my pleasure,” the barber waves as the two open the glass door, with the sight of that blonde mess being swept up being the last thing they see of the shop as they walk back out into the summer heat.

They walk for a few paces before Roxie drags Jo into a secluded alley. Jo takes it as her cue, pinning Roxie against the wall as their lips dive into each other. Roxie’s hands are unleashed now that the curtains have fallen— taking every liberty to run them all over that freshly buzzed head of her wife.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jo whispers between kisses.

“You were spectacular,” Roxie replied, still breathless as her eager hands get her fill of that soft, blonde fuzz.

“Actor, director, stage manager— what can’t I do?” Jo boasts, smirking so sexily in a glow of confidence.

Roxie giggles, her teasing eyes opening to regard her rambunctious wife. “You had me in the first half, I won’t lie,” she says, then pulls Jo’s fuzzy head close to her so that their foreheads meet— and their eyes are in a deadlock. “But I don’t need to remind you who truly was in control of the rest of the show.”

She hitches her legs around Jo’s waist and Jo holds Roxie to her closely, grabbing Roxie around her tiny waist and pulling her in as close as possible so that they’re fused together as they furiously kiss, Roxie stroking Jo’s bare neck and back addictively. It may be the hottest day of the year, but nothing, not even crushing heat and humidity, can stop them. Especially not after Jo’s been freed from the summer heat by a pair of clippers—nothing, no hair in the way, to stop her from furiously making love to her wife now, as she sticks her fingers into Roxie and feels how soaking wet she is.


“Who was it?”

Jo ambles back into the kitchen, eyes plastered on the packaged box that was in her hands. “Delivery. For you,” she replies, still attempting to figure out what was in that discreet packaging.

Ah,” Roxie simply says, taking a sip of her coffee as she’s already understood what was in her wife’s hands. “I see it’s arrived.”

“What is it?” Jo finally looks up, a curious look in her eyes.

“You open it,” Roxie directs with a nudge of her head, a smirk playing on the corner of her lips.

Jo raises a brow, then cautiously undoes the wrapping on the package. She opens up the box as her face is riddled with surprise— her hand pulling out the familiar wired device. “Rox…”

“Do you like it?” Roxie asks as she twirls her luscious red tresses. “Fran gave me some recommendations this time, especially after that unfortunate accident with Lex. Safe to say this won’t go kapoot if there’s some added… tension,” she emphasises that last word— letting it ring in the air with purpose.

Jo is enamoured by how complete the clipper set is— unlike the cute yet cheap one they used to have, this one seems professional, with a large assortment of clipper guards and even its own set of combs. “Does this mean?…” Jo looks at her wife with her widened puppy eyes, a hand going up to rub the waves sprouting from her overgrown buzzcut.

Roxie gives a playfully nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know.”

Jo stares back in confusion. “But it’s right here. You’ve shown it to me. Not like you can hide it anywhere I won’t find— I could easily just buzz it myself.”

“Oh, I know you can,” Roxie remarks, putting down her coffee as she steps towards her wife. She picks up the clippers from Jo’s hands, turning that menacing device around to inspect it closely. “But I know it won’t have that same effect as me doing it, would it?” Jo bites her lip, realising how elaborately the ploy had been set up. “Aw, don’t worry,” Roxie takes hold of her wife’s chin, turning it to face her. “Just make sure to be a good girl, and I promise I’ll give you that satisfaction sometime soon.”




Jo’s final look:

3 responses to “The Hottest Day

  1. I can’t wait for the next part …

    This little grown out pixie will certainly met the bare blades of this new pair of clippers …
    And let’s dream a bit more … they could be join by a sea of long flowing and beautiful red locks … 😁😍

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