Aurum
The scorching July sun bore down on the city. The asphalt burned under James’ sneakers as he walked the same route as always, intending to reach the barbershop where he got his usual haircut every two months. His hair grazed his ears, with thick bangs that he typically combed to one side.
As usual, when he turned the corner, he passed in front of the old barbershop. He had seen it for years, a small shop with a large window slightly fogged by time. Above the door hung the classic red, white, and blue rotating pole. But this time, something different caught his attention: a yellow sign on the door announcing that the barber would retire on September 1st.
James stopped. He felt a strange impulse, a kind of calling. He had always fantasized about going in, but he had never dared. But now, if he didn’t do it, he would never have the chance. He ran a hand through his hair, thoughtful. What if the haircut turned out bad? What was the worst that could happen? Hair grew back. It wasn’t irreversible.
He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. A small bell jingled softly, announcing his entrance. Inside, the barbershop had an old-fashioned yet cozy atmosphere. It smelled of masculine cologne and leather. At the back, an elderly man with a thick white beard and steady hands was finishing a haircut for an older customer. He looked up and smiled warmly upon seeing James enter.
—Well, look who’s here! —the barber exclaimed enthusiastically, as if he had known him forever.
James froze. He looked around, but there was no one else. Was the barber confusing him with someone else? Before he could correct him, he felt his throat tighten with nerves. He decided to play along. He nodded with a nervous smile.
—It’s been a while, kid! —the barber continued—. How long has it been since you last got your hair cut here? Six months? A year?
—Uh… something like that —James mumbled.
The elderly customer finished paying and left, leaving James alone with the barber.
—Alright, kid, let’s get to it. Take a seat. The usual?
James felt a cold sweat run down his back. The usual? He had no idea what that meant. But he was already in the game. He nodded again.
The barber turned the chair around, positioning him with his back to the mirror.
—You know how I work. Scissors first, then clippers. Let’s get you cleaned up properly —he said, draping the classic black cape over James’ shoulders.
The young man swallowed hard. He felt the scissors begin to move over his head. The first locks fell onto the cape, and his heart started pounding.
The barber chatted naturally, asking about family, studies… James responded with short sentences, avoiding giving himself away. Meanwhile, he felt the hair on the sides gradually disappearing.
Then, the buzzing of the clippers filled the air. The vibration ran down his nape, and he felt the immediate coolness of metal against his skin. The barber passed the clippers over and over until he could feel the air directly on his scalp.
—Let’s move on to the top —the barber announced, changing the clipper guard.
James could barely think anymore. His hands were sweaty beneath the cape. He felt the device pass over his crown, leaving his hair barely a few millimeters long. He closed his eyes. The hypnotic sound of the clippers, the sensation of the hair falling, the transformation… it was a mix of nervousness and an emotion he had never experienced before.
—All done —said the barber with satisfaction, swiftly removing the cape.
James slowly turned in the chair and looked at himself in the mirror. His breath caught.
His nape and sides were completely shaved down to the skin. The top was cut to a number two, leaving only a faint trace of hair. He ran his hand over his head. It was smooth, strangely pleasant.
A wave of excitement surged through him. His penis hardened, reaching orgasm, which produced a large stain on his jeans. He had never felt anything like this before. The adrenaline, the risk, the novelty… it all consumed him at that moment.
—Looks great on you, as always —the barber commented, pleased.
James smiled, still in disbelief at his reflection in the mirror.
—Yeah… as always.
