Episode II – The Boutique

Episode II - The Boutique

EPISODE II: The Boutique by BaldFan (c) 2001

Sequel to: Episode I: The Window by BaldFan (c) 2001

“Now where was that place again?” Rachel mentally asked herself as she made her way down the street.

She pulled into a dark building alcove off the sidewalk, and reached in her purse for the coupon. She tried to conceal the fact that a City girl like herself was a bit disoriented. After all, she never came down this far, and the streets were all narrow and labyrinthine. From whom was she hiding? Well, it’s not like anyone would even notice her confusion in a place this big. It was more an issue of pride.

“Ah… Here we go. 117 Lispenard Street…”

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Rachel looked up for a street sign. She was in luck – she was on the right street after all. She noted that she was standing at 216 Lispenard, and all she had to do was work her way down to 117. She tucked the coupon back in her purse, and quickly shot off on her way.

Rachel had received a strange coupon in the mail earlier that week. Announcing the grand opening of a new store specializing in imported boutique clothing from Latin America, it promised a third off the total purchase if the coupon was used on September 1. A third seemed like an awful lot, and with her Labor Day plans having fallen through, she figured it would be a good way to occupy the void that her Holiday weekend had become. Well, at least it would take care of Saturday morning.

Rachel had woken up early that morning. Her three roommates had fled to the Hamptons for the last weekend of an all too short summer, and the cramped four-bedroom cut-up seemed remarkably quiet. Large puffy clouds raced out of the northwest in a clear blue sky, and there was a nip in the air. The sudden cool weather had prompted Rachel to dress a little more preppy for the day than usual. Rachel liked being preppy. It gave her comfort and reminded her of the heady sorority days back in the Midwest. They all had brought as much of that life with them to the city, including each other. All her roommates were former sisters, but the renovated tenement five-story walk-up was a far cry from the house. They could fill the place with as much Pottery Barn as would fit, and then cram some more into every nook, but the city was just different than college. If this is where they were supposed to go after college, how come it felt so off?

Rachel continued her trek down Lispenard Street casually reviewing her life through the filter of her own mind. She was a beautiful Midwestern girl, and had no problem networking through college. She had exceptionally long legs, and a summer with plenty of trendy gym time had left them tanned a golden brown and firmly toned. She had painted her toenails with glitter for no good reason, and they sparkled up through her leather sandals. She had thrown on a pair of well-washed khaki shorts that hugged her round ass tight enough to make the pocket flaps in the back try to stand at attention. Of course her conservative style ensured that the hem was not too far above the knee. She had tucked in a white Ralph Lauren oxford, and rolled up the sleeves to show off a charm bracelet. How kitsch, but she loved it.

Most striking of all was her thick blonde hair that even in a ponytail hung down to the middle of her back. It seemed like the band holding it together at the base of head was the diameter of a half-dollar coin. What a wonderful cacophony of blonde shades her hair was, and it was all natural, with the help of a little summer sun. Underneath and inside, the hair was more of a dirty blonde, while the hair pulled back off her forehead was as light as corn silk.

The ponytail swung behind her, loose strands caught in the early autumn breeze as she made her way down the street.

“Okay. Here we go. 133 Lispenard… I’m getting close… 119 Lispenard…. Ah-ha! 117 Lispenard.”

“What a quiet place this is,” Rachel wondered to herself.

She hesitated on the street, removing the Louie V. sunglasses and hanging them off the open neckline of her button-down.

Just then, a smiling young Asian girl exited through the glass door, toting a shopping bag.

“Well, this must be the place.”

Rachel opened the old glass door, covered with scraped off tape remnants from years of neglect against flier posters, and descended down the turning stairwell into the basement store. It was very dark, and there were yellow candles lit all along the banister.

“This is more like the basement at my grandmother’s farm than a store…what an interesting fragrance…”

“Hello,” a voice said from behind the counter in the darkened store. Rachel’s eyes needed to adjust from the bright Saturday morning.

“I got a coupon, and I thought I’d, you know, have a look around.”

“Well, let me know if I can help you with anything.”

Rachel looked around the cramped store. The first impression that struck her was that of being in a gypsy’s closet. This isn’t how she imagined a Latin American boutique would look; there were all sorts of beads and long flowing cloth hanging from clothes racks stacked double high against the walls. Rachel detected the smell of leather, and something else wonderful that she couldn’t quite identify. Tiny rays of light leaked down from the glass door up on the street, and aside from scant flickering candlelight, the place was fairly dark. It was hard to move around, with the circular clothes racks in the center of the store. Rachel noticed that in the only open space of a store no bigger than a subway car, there was a salon chair and a mirror. Racked to the ceiling along either side of the mirror were blank heads sporting a variety of trendy wigs in all shapes and colors.

“What kind of fragrance is that?” Rachel called out from the other end of the store.

“It’s flowers, my dear.”

Rachel turned towards the shopkeeper. She was sitting under a fluorescent ring light; the only unnatural light source in the store. Her shiny black hair reflected the unhealthy intrusion in a blue-black sheen. She wore her hair in a chin length bob, with the front ends arcing forward. Thick heavy bangs descended to her forehead, yet stopped well short of her eyebrows. She wore a trendy pair of elliptical thick-rimmed egghead glasses, and a black leather jumpsuit to match her hair. Doing a double take, Rachel realized that she was wearing nothing but a leather jumpsuit. She tried not to stare at the miles of cleavage on display through the unzippered neckline, but either that crazy woman was wearing a flesh colored top, or nothing at all.

“Wow, they’re beautiful,” Rachel commented, noticing the vase of flowers on the counter.

“They’re orchids from the Amazon.”

“Really? They’re like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty unique.”

Rachel made her way around the circular floor racks crammed full of clothes to the counter, so as to instinctively go for a sniff of something that struck her as beautiful. Rachel put her nose into the most convenient blossom, and inhaled. The shopkeeper watched her. Rachel pulled her head away, and then took a dazed half step back. Rachel had the strangest sensation, she felt herself leaving her body, and turned to look the shopkeeper in her eyes; her shining sexy hazel eyes. Rachel felt as if she was staring at the shopkeeper from outside her body. This would be the last thing she would later recall.

Rachel stared straight into the loving eyes of the shopkeeper, feeling the part of her that wanted to cry for help being pulled away, and replaced with feelings that she never felt before. She then noticed the delectable pale, curved nape of the shopkeeper. She was a zaftig woman, and her lush bosoms, unrestrained by any bra, must hang freely in the leather jumpsuit. The two melons perched on top of a round belly, distended from uninhibited self-pleasuring through food. Rachel wondered what it must be like for her nipples to rub bare against the inside of leather. She had a hefty, round rear, with thighs that rubbed together when she walked. Rachel imagined her thighs quivering as she walked, and her little Buddha belly coming to rest on them as she sat down.

“It must be so soft and plump… I want to bury my face in it… and squeeze and massage it…” Rachel dreamed to herself.

“Let me see if I can find something special for you, my dear.”

Rachel didn’t answer, as she was mesmerized by the homoerotic image of the shopkeeper’s figure.

The shopkeeper returned with a par of chocolate brown leather pants.

“Here, I think these will fit you wonderfully. Why don’t you try them on. There’s a mirror right here.”

Rachel turned to face the mirror against the wall. Rachel unfastened both her sandals and gently discarded them to her side. Then, without any hesitation, she unbuttoned her khaki shorts, and dropped them to the floor. She stepped out of them, and reached to take the pants from the shopkeeper.

“You’ll need to take those off too.”

Rachel slipped her Victoria’s Secret panties down her legs, and took the pants off the clear plastic hanger. Exposed to the air for a brief second, her golden bush seemed iridescent, even in the darkness of the store. One leg at a time, she slid them up her legs. They fitted like a glove. It looked like someone had painted brown leather over her lower body. She fastened the button, and they rode ultra low on her hips.

“Hey, those are pretty hot.”

Rachel nodded in silence.

“I have a top you might like.”

Rachel again nodded, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

The shopkeeper returned with the slinkiest silk club blouse. It screamed “perky”, with the tight, bright little color patterns and the body hugging shape. The shopkeeper laid the blouse down on a clothes rack next to Rachel.

“I think I’d like to try on a wig too,” Rachel exclaimed.

The shopkeeper escorted Rachel over to the salon chair. Rachel instinctively went to have a seat, to prepare for being fitted with a wig.

“You know, that’s just the thing you need to make your outfit complete! Take your shirt and bra off, dear.”

Rachel complied without comprehension. She unbuttoned her oxford and tossed it on the floor, followed by her bra.

“You know, I think you would look good in one just like mine! Here, have a look.”

Rachel was stunned as the shopkeeper curled her fingers underneath her bangs, and slipped her black bob off her head. The shopkeeper rubbed her polished white dome for effect with a smile from ear to ear, and then handed Rachel the wig. All the air escaped from Rachel’s lungs with an audible gasp. It was like someone had kicked the wind out of her.

Rachel saw that the woman was remorselessly, hard-cord bald. Total bald, bald.

“You know dear, something like this would look absolutely stunning on you! It would bring out those gorgeous crystal eyes of yours and those high cheek bones.”

It was hard for the shopkeeper to hide her enthusiasm. Rachel briefly cracked a smile as her loins started to burn. Electricity started to crackle and race through her body, from her hot, engorged nipples to her thighs and back.

“Do you really think so?” her eyes read back silently, her chin descending so she could look at herself in the mirror through the top of her eyes.

“Oh no. I don’t think so. I know so.”

The shopkeeper put her palm on top of Rachel’s head and patted the hair pulled back by the rubber band.

“You see, you have a perfectly shaped, rounded head. That’s ideal. It’s really a very rare beauty feature.”

“I’d like to try it on.”

“Okay. But before you try this style on, we’ll first have to clean this mess up,” the shopkeeper casually stated, pulling the rubber band out of Rachel’s hair and collapsing the ponytail down the back of her naked torso.

“It won’t fit over long hair. If you’re serious about this type of accessory, I’m going to have to chop all this off.”

It was like the shopkeeper was giving landscaping advice to a suburbanite about an overgrown shrub. Rachel looked confused.

“Listen, if you went up to Astor Place, they’d charge you, what, 15 bucks for a head shave. I fit lots of people with wigs and jewelry for the first time, so I’m equipped to clean you up right here.”

The shopkeeper sensed Rachel was now totally lost. She got behind Rachel, and looked over her shoulder into the mirror. Her voice changed to a more airy, seductive tone.

“It’s really a wonderful experience, having it so smooth,” the shopkeeper exclaimed, running her palm again over her completely bald head. “I have satin sheets and pillow cases, so every night, I go home to lay my smooth head down and wonder why women have hair if the sensation up here is so erotic.”

Rachel stared in the mirror. She wanted a shiny dome on top just like the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper now switched to a more practical line of attack.

“If you’re unsure, just think of all the options you have once you get this style. I don’t know why you girls let it go so long without having a proper haircut. With hair as extremely long as yours, it looks the same every day. If I’m not mistaken, you put it up or pull it back in a ponytail most of the time?”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

“When you adopt a short hair lifestyle, you can make radical changes almost every day. You never have to worry about dyeing or split ends. You can follow every whim without recourse. You’re totally free. When you don’t like it, you just start over again, and in a matter of no time, you’ve got something new and sexy.”

“Have you ever dyed your hair?”

“Yeah…” Rachel responded.

“No, I mean a radical dye job. Like raven black.”


“And why is that?”

Rachel didn’t answer.

“It’s because you were afraid of the consequences. You might not like it, you might ruin it, and so on. It’s time to stop being so afraid. What if you could try it without any consequences?”

Rachel just stared at the shopkeeper’s reflection in the mirror, barely understanding her tirade against boring hair in society. The words might have been lost, but Rachel knew what she wanted.

“No, really. I’d like to try it on.”

“Now that’s the spirit! Let me just go get my accessories, and I’ll be right back.”

The image of the shopkeeper slipping off the black chin-length bob played over and over again in her mind now. She wanted to feel the top of the shopkeeper’s head. She imagined herself putting her tongue in her exposed, naked ears. She wanted to lick whipped cream and chocolate syrup off the top of her head. She wanted the shopkeeper’s silky smooth head between her thighs, eating her out. She wanted to put her head between the luscious thighs of the shopkeeper. She wanted juices flowing and being wiped all over her smooth head. Her smooth head…

“Here we go,” the shopkeeper interjected, interrupting Rachel’s erotic daydream.

The shopkeeper plugged in the big black clippers, and pulled off the guard. She turned them on, and a soft buzzing filled the shop.

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to go for this style! It’s going to look so beautiful once we get rid of this mop.”

“Yeah…” Rachel moaned.

The shopkeeper took her left hand, curling her fingers under, and gently pulled the foremost hair back off of Rachel’s forehead, giving the clippers something to dig into. She then positioned the clippers under Rachel’s forehead with her right hand, and paused for some confirmation.

“It’s okay. I really want to try it on,” Rachel said softly, staring straight ahead.

That was all the encouragement the shopkeeper needed. With a gleam of excitement in her eyes, she thrust the clippers back into Rachel’s thick blonde locks, peeling them away from her scalp. With the aide of her other hand, she ripped a path of baldness right down the middle, leaving the shortest blonde stubble in her wake. The stubble stuck straight up in shock, and the brilliant whiteness of her scalp underneath screamed out in disbelief. Long tendrils of thick blond hair, the scent still honey sweet, rained down on both sides of the topless girl. Some silky strands slid over her bare bosoms, tickling her engorged nipples.

When the shopkeeper reached the end of the row, she quickly repositioned the clippers at Rachel’s forehead, and harvested another batch as hastily as possible. The smell of heated oil now mingled in with the herbal sweetness of the raining hair. Hair poured down in sheets on both sides of the transfixed girl. It was a triumphant end to a life of long hair. Even if she was going to be able to grow it out, it would never be this long again, what with her increasing age, the workplace, and the effort involved. It was the dramatic last minutes of having long hair for the rest of her life.

Five, six, seven passes, and the shopkeeper had denuded the top of her head, leaving the strange impression of male pattern baldness. Post haste, the shopkeeper positioned the vibrating clippers at Rachel’s right sideburn, and thrust them up to meet the bare patch on top. Again and again, she forced the clippers up into the fray, pulling them back away from her head as she reached the top, sending the strands flying away from Rachel’s head like a mechanical thrasher. Occasionally, long yellow silky strands would land in Rachel’s tightly leather-coated thighs.

Neither spoke a word over the hum of the clippers. Rachel squirmed from the fire between her legs.

The shopkeeper continued her rapid-fire decimation of Rachel’s once crowning glory around the back. Rachel could now see the shape of her head; she looked like Kojak. Up and up again, the shopkeeper went, moving now to her left side. Triumphantly, she raced to take the last part by her left sideburn, and that was it — Rachel was very bald. The shopkeeper swooped in occasionally to clean up some hairy patches, and seemed to take some extra time nuzzling the vibrating teeth behind Rachel’s exposed ears, racking her skull. She took a step back, and switched off the machine.

The silence was deafening. Her former self would no more have cut off all her hair than she would have cut off a finger.

But the shopkeeper wasn’t finished.

“You sit tight, baldie. I’ll be right back.”

The shopkeeper disappeared into the back room and reappeared with a towel, a bowl, and a razor.

“Here, this is going to feel a little warm.”

The shopkeeper wrapped the steaming towel around Rachel’s freshly denuded head. She patted it against the skin in a few places, and with her head wrapped up, Rachel looked like her former self, having just washed what was her hair. The shopkeeper removed the towel, and using the bowl, brushed shaving cream all over the stubble. Before Rachel knew it, her dome was covered in a helmet of shaving cream that adhered tightly to her freshly shaven scalp.

“Sit tight. I don’t want to nick you, and this’ll make the wig feel much better.”

The gleam of a straight razor flashed in the mirror, and the shopkeeper made the first stroke on top of Rachel’s forehead, crossing back over her former hairline into the stubble. Time and again, the shopkeeper scraped the razor against Rachel’s stubble, with each stroke feeling like a match striking up, against her thighs. Eschewing the shopkeeper’s orders in place of self-pleasure, Rachel’s pelvis began to squirm and gyrate in the barber’s chair. She was impatient, for both the impending orgasm and the future of smooth scalp. Her labia were on fire.

Once no foam remained, the shopkeeper toweled off Rachel’s head with a smirk and a wink into the mirror, and squirted some oil into her palms. She gave Rachel a scalp massage. As she rubbed the oil into Rachel’s head, she daydreamed of rolling in smooth satin sheets, with the soft flesh of the shopkeeper pinning her down. She wanted to knead the floppy mammaries of the shopkeeper like dough, spank her gigantic ass and watch the flesh ripple, and have the shopkeeper squeeze Rachel’s clean head between her thighs.

“I know what else you need!” the shopkeeper exclaimed, interrupting Rachel’s dream once more.

The shopkeeper placed a pair of yellow-tinted, black thick-rimmed sunglasses on Rachel’s head. They were so techno-chic.

“Voil√†! What an outfit!”

“I’ll go wrap this up for you,” the shopkeeper said, turning away from the mirror with the black bob wig and heading behind the counter.

Rachel slowly got up out of the chair without even making any further inspection of her radically changed visage in the mirror.

“You might want to put your new shirt on before you go outside,” the shopkeeper chimed from under the counter as she rummaged for the right wig box.

Rachel picked up the silk blouse, and started to button it up over her naked chest. She stopped a few buttons from the top – her chest was still hot and flushed.

“Here you go. I’ve put everything in a shopping bag. And I have one more thing for you before you leave.”

The shopkeeper pulled out a leather-looking cloth.

“Here, lean forward sweetie.”

The shopkeeper proceeded to wrap the cloth tightly around Rachel’s shining bald head.

“You’ll need to keep this beautiful head of yours wrapped from now on to protect it from the cold. This one’s free, but you’ll need to buy yourself more of these. Isn’t it exciting, dear? They come in every color and pattern. You could wear a different one every day. You’ll never have the same looking head two days in a row!”

“There you go. All done,” the shopkeeper concluded as she finished wrapping Rachel’s head up in what looked kind of like a leather bandana. It was quite evident from the revealed temples and nape that there was nary a hair underneath, but on a nippy day like this, the shopkeeper felt it better to be on the safe side.

“Speaking of free, how much do I owe you for all the clothes and wig?”

“Oh, dear, don’t be silly. It comes with the induction. This one’s on the house.”

“The induction?”

“Yeah. You’ll understand.”

Rachel stared at the shopkeeper blankly, and then proceeded to pick up the shopping bag and head back up the narrow dark stairway to the street, wearing her tight leather pants, her patterned silk blouse, her yellow-tinted sunglasses, and a newly cleaned head, gift-wrapped to go.

She’d eventually recall what transpired with enough fresh air, and at that time, her journey would just have begun.



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