Finally! by Haircape
A hair fetish. That’s right, I have a hair fetish. I love to see women get their hair cut especially short and with the clippers. Until now, I’ve satisfied my desires by surfing the web and purchasing videos. I mean it has always been a dream of mine to see a woman sit down in a barbershop chair, have the cape placed around her and be shorn to the nub. I’ve seen it on my computer, I’ve seen it in a video, but I’ve never seen the real thing. And oh how I’ve tried. Whenever I need a haircut, I always try to work it so that I’ll be able to satisfy my fetish. If I am going to a salon where I need to make an appointment, I’ll show up 30 minutes early. If I’m going to a walk-in place, I wait until it is real busy before I go in and give my name.
Not only do I try to manipulate the time, but also where I get my haircut. Over the past few years, I’ve gone to a barbershop near a large university that had some women customers. This satisfied the “seeing a woman in a barber’s chair” thing, but I never saw more than a trim. Next I tried a standard salon, complete with appointments and all that jazz. That didn’t work either, I’m not interested in all the foofy hairdressing stuff, and there were never any dramatic cuts on my watch. Then I did the walk-in chains especially on a busy Saturday. I would always make sure the place was nice and crowded and that there were especially a lot of women in the waiting area. Again I was always let down, either the women were just waiting with someone else or wouldn’t trust the chainstore stylist to perform the dramatic change. I resolved myself to the fact that my fetish lived on in the realm of fantasy and nothing else. Not that there was anything wrong with that. As one of my old girlfriends, who knew a little about my fetish said, “As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone there is nothing wrong with that.” Well a fetish is a fetish, and I still hoped that someday my fantasy might become real.
“I look terrible!” I said to myself as I looked in the mirror that Saturday morning in early July. I really did, I needed a haircut bad. Since I had moved to this new city, I had tried out a variety of the walk-in chains. Sometimes I had gotten a good haircut, sometimes a terrible one. A coworker recommended a little barbershop near where I lived so I decided to give it a try. As you probably have guessed, I walked by the shop a few times to case it out. I wasn’t inspecting the quality of the haircuts though, I was inspecting the makeup of the waiting customers. Being Saturday morning the shop was rather busy, and much to my surprise, a couple of young women were seated in the waiting area. Seeing this, I stepped inside.
As the haircuts of the men and boys in the shop progressed, I sat with anticipation. “Would these young women be getting their hair cut?” It wasn’t long before I was disappointed again. A young guy stepped out of the chair with a fresh flattop and one of the young girls got up to greet his fresh crop. Oh well just a girlfriend along for the ride. As soon as the chair was empty, the other young woman got up and approached it. “This could be interesting,” I thought to myself. Next she actually sat down. “This is getting good,” and I felt a stirring in my shorts.
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The girl was probably around 20 with wavy blonde hair that reached her shoulders. “Have a seat, Sue,” said the barber. The fact that he knew her made it even more intriguing. She sat down and she looked at one of the young boys seated in the waiting area. “Get over here Jared.” She motioned to a kid who was about 4 years old and looked awfully nervous. “You can sit on my lap while you get your haircut.”
“Foiled again!” I thought as the stirring in my pants stopped and Jared took his place on the woman’s lap and received his haircut. Soon the telephone rang and the barber answered it. “We don’t take appointments,” he told the caller on the other end. “Just come on down and wait your turn.” He hung up the phone and returned to Jared’s haircut. “Woman is an actress. She needs a crewcut for a play she is in and she is on her way over.” He announced this to the whole shop, but I felt as if he were speaking directly to me. He might as well have said, “Your dream is about to come true, hair fetish boy.”
The stirring returned to my shorts, but then I realized that if she came now, her turn would be after mine, and I wouldn’t get to see anything because my haircut would be over. First I tried to think of an excuse to stay in the shop after my haircut. No luck. Then I looked down at my watch, oh crap no watch. I was starting to panic. Here I was, fifteen minutes away from seeing a young actress cropped in a barbershop before my very eyes and I was going to miss it. “That’s it!” I rose from my seat, left the shop, and headed for the coffee shop across the street. I went in and purchased a small cup of coffee, keeping my eye on the barbershop across the street. As I paid for my cup of Joe, I still hadn’t seen her walk into the shop. I went for a quick pit stop in the bathroom and when I emerged I saw a young woman with red hair cut at her ears sitting in the waiting area across the street. I took my coffee and went back over. The barber was finishing the customer who had come right before me. The only other person waiting was the actress.
The customer got up from the chair and the barber looked at me and said, “Since you were here before, you’re really next.”
“That’s okay, I’m in no hurry and I did leave the shop, she can go ahead and then I’ll be next.”
“Okay,” he answered, “Have a seat miss. I take it that you are the actress who called about the crewcut?”
“That is correct,” she said. “I am playing an inmate in a concentration camp and I need to have a real close crop.” As she explained she held up a picture of a near bald woman.
“That’s a little shorter that a standard crewcut,” the barber responded. “I’ll have to cut it almost all off.”
“Then just do it.” As she said this she crossed her legs, gave the picture to the barber, and placed her arms on the armrest. The barber removed a white tissue from the dispenser and wrapped it around her neck. Next he took the cape and pulled it across her shoulders. He then readjusted the tissue and fastened the cape around her. The cape was a classic barber’s cape. White with thin black stripes. I was staring at her in the chair, a woman in a man’s world, a fantasy about to unfold before my very eyes.
BZZZ! The clippers came to life as they were snapped on. The actress didn’t look at them or at the barber, she simply stared at herself in the mirror in front of her. The barber held the clippers in his right hand and his comb in the other. He combed her hair down and raised the guardless clippers toward her head. Even though he was working at his usual fast pace, it seemed like slow motion to me. The sound changed as the clippers made their way up the side of her head in front of her ear. As they moved upwards, hair began to fall until the clippers reached the comb near her forehead and he pulled them away from her head. She now had a path of stubble no more than 1/16th of an inch. Again he combed down a section f hair and positioned the comb at the top. Again he moved the clippers upwards clearing another path. He continued to do this all around her head until he reached the other side.
As he worked, red hair was falling everywhere. On the cape, the floor, her face. Some was sticking to other hair still on her head only to be sent downward when that piece was clipped by the next pass of the clippers. Her eyes just watched in the mirror as she was being transformed. My eyes watched, my shorts bulged. After he had completed the back and sides, he went over them again. Still combing down before he sent the clippers upward, even though the hair was not long enough to comb. He bent her ears forward to make sure the hair behind them was clipped as closely as the rest was.
After he had gone around her head a second time, he moved in from of her. He positioned his left hand on her forehead to protect her eyes, and then sent the clippers riding over her head. After four passes, her head had been reduced to the same stubble as the rest. The shearing was complete. The actress looked in the mirror, then looked at the hair laying on the floor and cape. Then she looked at me and smiled. I looked away as if I had been caught.
The barber cleaned up her hairline with the small clippers, then went over her head one final time with the large clippers. He dusted her off, removed the cape, and she stepped down from the chair. She paid him for the haircut and he motioned for me to have a seat. As I walked by the actress on my to the chair, she stopped and said, “I hope you enjoy your haircut as much as you enjoyed mine.”
All I could respond with was, “Huh?”
“You heard me,” she said. “By the way, the play opens tomorrow night at 8:00. Hope to see you there.”
With that she exited the shop and I sat down to get my own hair cut. The next night, I sat in the first row.