Inquisitiveness Rewarded? – BarbrGal
I remember the day like it was yesterday, but it was actually over 10 years ago.
At 19, I was going to community college and working in a record store, still not taking any serious thought about life. I had a lot of time to think and had a serious hair fetish that had developed over the years. I always secretly fantasized about going to the barber shop for a cut but had never gotten up the nerve. Even though I hated having very short hair as a child, I couldn’t help but imagine going to the barber. It seemed very alluring.
It was late October and my brown hair was extremely shaggy, almost down to my shoulders and a general mess. I was sick and tired of pulling it into ponytails and the like and decided to go for a more tapered look. I went shopping in the afternoon and while on the way home, I saw the shop. I cruised past and noticed that there was no one in the chair and since it was late afternoon, I knew I had a chance at being the last customer. I wasn’t too keen on having an audience.
I walked in and the barber had a smile on his face. I asked him if I could please get a haircut and he said no problem.
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As I sat down in the chair and he sharply told me to sit straight and not to cross my legs. I gripped the arms of the chair and tried to relax. He noticed that I had a turtleneck on under my sweater.
“Go into the back and take off that turtleneck and just have your sweater on. How can I cut your hair with that in my way?”
Now I was really nervous and was starting to break out into a nervous sweat. However, I obeyed and went and changed. When I came back out he gave me a big smile. “Now that’s a good girl. Remember what I told you before, sit straight in the chair.”
It was strange the way he said good girl. Didn’t he notice that I was almost in my 20’s? But, I sat down and gripped the arms of the chair again. I couldn’t help but notice all the sets of clippers around his work area. I felt churning in my stomach and couldn’t help but stare at the clippers and wondered if he would use them on me. I didn’t wonder too long.
A piece of paper was secured on my neck and then a striped white sheet was tightly secured. He began to comb through the mess on my head, while shaking his. “Why did you get your hair to look like this? Women look sexy with short hair – ask any man. This makes you look too young. Don’t you want to have a good haircut?”
What he said made me think. OK, I could have shorter hair again. What was the big deal – it would grow out. Maybe that’s what made him think I was young. I did need something to make me look more mature.
“All right, I’ll take it shorter. But not really short.”
That nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach again. “Don’t you want to hear how I want it?” I almost whispered.
“No. You leave everything to me. Do you understand little girl? Don’t you want to look like a grown up? Now don’t give me any more lip. You came in here for a haircut and told me what you wanted. Just sit still! I’ll take care of you.”
I should have left right then when I had a second of opportunity. It was too late. He put his hands on my head and whispered, “Don’t worry you’ll be beautiful.”
One of the hands stayed on my head, pulling it back so it was straight. Then I heard a click and the sound that I was still wondering if I would hear. I saw the clippers in the mirror before they had actually touched my head. I tried to pull away, but even with one hand he was too strong. The last thing he said before my shearing began was if I moved one more time, he had a belt that he would use to tie my waist to the chair and my arms to the sides. The look on his face not only told me that he would do it but he would enjoy it. I felt the tears come to my eyes. He smiled. “Good girl.”
Then the clippers started. I felt all the hair over the back of my neck fall. This was going to be too short – how would he ever even up the sides? He had just used the clippers to get rid of that wall of hair. The back of my head was still his and so were the sides. I could tell that my worrying about the sides was going to be of no use. He had hacked into them with the clippers just enough to let me know it.
My head was pushed forward and I heard the clipper coming closer. I remember how they touched my barer neck and started up. I felt the hair falling down. I knew that if I was lucky there was three inches left on the back right hand side of my head. Then he went after the left. The same scenario. Up went the clippers and off went my hair. Those clippers were turned off.
I was afraid to look up at the mirror and didn’t want to move my head. He noticed my hesitation and pulled my head up by my chin. “Now for your sides.”
Another pair of clippers was brought out and then put down. “I’ll need to use scissors for this mess.” Seven-inch scissors were taken out and he grabbed at my head again. “Stop shaking – I have those restraints right there. Besides, you wouldn’t run out of here now.” He pulled my hair on my left side, so my head would stay at an angle where he could easily snip off all the hair over my right ear. SCHNICK. All gone except for a small piece in the front. “I’ll edge that later.” Since he couldn’t pull the hair on my right when he went to the left, he pulled at my bangs. My left side soon followed. I knew my bangs were the next to go. But not yet. He had a different way to take them off.
The biggest set of clippers were taken off the wall and a guard was placed on them. He stood in front of me. “Don’t you move now.” I started shaking my head. “Fine, it’s coming off no matter what you do now. It’ll just be crooked, and we can’t have that.”
I saw all my hair in my lap and on the floor. All I could do was look up and say “I’ll behave… sir.”
Maybe he liked my submissive tone. Maybe he was so turned on by what he was going to do. He bent down and touched my nose. “Hold on little girl, this will just take a minute.”
The minute seemed to last forever. The clippers started. I tried not to flinch, but I think he understood this time. They touched my forehead and it was over. Back and forth, swipe, swipe. My bangs were history and so was my crown.
I looked in the mirror. There was about 3 1/2 inches left all around and a mess.
He leaned against the counter and smiled. “That wasn’t too bad now was it?” He didn’t wait for my answer. I think that the tears on my face with hair sticking to them was my answer. I couldn’t say a word. I didn’t dare try to take the hair off my face. He was fingering the restraints he had spoken about.
“Now that we’ve gotten ridden of that mess, we can start on the rest.”
Another set of clippers was taken off the wall and he looked through a drawer for the guard. Knowing that all efforts were fruitless at this point, I sagged in the chair and wept. But then he was behind me again.
His hand was on my head holding it forcefully and the other clicked on the clipper. He started in the back. I felt the tufts falling on my naked neck. Then the sides. Back and forth. Finally he was in front of me again. The clippers went over the top and I saw that I had maybe 3/4 of an inch left. Every piece he wanted was chewed off by the non-stopping clippers. “Let me just use the edger now and then we’re almost through. You’re behaving very well now.”
A small clipper was taken off the cabinet and was used around my neck, sides and even towards the top. At this point he was whistling. I knew he was enjoying this.
But then the door opened! Maybe they’ll see what this maniac has done to me and will help me (helping my hair at this point was hopeless). They seemed to know the barber quite well.
“Christ, Bob we go out to pick up some supplies and look what you get to do. If she didn’t have those earrings in, I would swear it was a guy. Wait, why is she crying?”
“She told me she wanted a short haircut. I told her this was a barbershop, not a salon and we do things certain ways here. She agreed to a short haircut and now has been acting like a bad girl the entire time. I almost had to restrain her. We’re almost done now. Just have to shave her neck, then she’ll be all done and have a whole new look. You should have seen her when she came in, huge mop on her head, not taken care of. I thought of the talk that we had the other night about how some women love to come to the shop but are afraid to. I could see that when she first came in. I figured I was going to give her a reason to remember the barbershop and what happens when little girls come in here and they’re not ready for it. This is what happens, all this bullshit and tears and now you act like you’re worried about her. Jesus Steve, I’ve seen you clip more girls than anyone. You’re probably just jealous you didn’t get this little gem here. She would have really gotten you going. Look at that face.”
The guy named Steve looked at me through the mirror and shook his head. “Bob you shouldn’t have gone so far with her this time. You might as well shave her neck now, finish off the job.”
This was who I thought was going to be my saviour? The other guy said nothing, just had a grin on his face.
Steve gently pushed my head forward. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt you. I won’t let him hurt you any more, old bastard,” he whispered. The hot lather was spread on my neck and I heard the razor being sharpened. I wanted to look at Steve again and plead with my eyes since I couldn’t find my voice.
The razor was applied and quickly removed what was left on the back of my neck. He was right, it didn’t hurt. Oddly, since he was next to me, I felt soothed and was feeling somewhat turned on. Finally I felt a brush on my neck and some powder being applied. I raised my head and stared at the mirror in awe. I had a 3/4″ regulation crewcut!
The cape was taken off and shook out, hair flew everywhere. I grabbed to take the tape off. I couldn’t look in the mirror. I couldn’t look at anybody. I went to stand up but my knees were wobbly. “Go put your turtleneck back on miss, maybe it won’t look so short,” Bob, my personal tormentor for the past half hour laughed.
I ran to the back room where I had changed before and slammed the door. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I cried. I pulled off my sweater and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked ludicrous with just my bra and my head looking like a boy’s. “What have I done? I’m going to have to get a wig.” I heard yelling in the shop and then the door slamming. What the hell had happened now? Then the door to my room opened. I held my sweater against my chest and screamed.
Steve quietly shut the door and walked in. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry that he did that to you. He took advantage of the situation. I’m no saint, but I wouldn’t have done that to you the first time you came in here. Actually, I’d like to see you in about six months when that grows out.” He took the sweater gently from me and held my hands, while staring down at me. Then he took me in his arms and held me, rocking me back and forth. “Poor baby.” It didn’t offend me though, I needed to cry on someone’s shoulder right now and this guy’s shoulders, to say nothing of the rest of him, looked pretty good. He held onto me with one arm and rubbed my newly shorn head. “I’ll take good care of you when the time comes. I’m going to give you a number. In six months, call it and I’ll see you. Don’t worry, it won’t be here. I have a setup in my house, just you and me. You can trust me. But I want you to think about what happened here today. I want you to think of it every day.” – like I wouldn’t – “You might think this is the worst thing that could have happened, but it could be for the best. Tell me the truth, you felt really submissive and sexy sitting there, didn’t you.” He took a towel and wiped the hair off my face and stared at me. I thought about it. He was right. I told him so.
“I knew you were. I’m going to give you some shampoo that will help your hair grow really fast. In six months, I’ll see you. Get dressed now. I don’t want to remember you like this. However I do want you to remember this.”
He came around behind me and began kissing my naked neck. I thought I would pass out, it felt so good. “That’s it for now sweetheart, just remember what I told you.” He walked out of the room without a backward glance. I quickly dressed and left the room. He was sweeping up my amputated hair and handed me a card and a bottle of shampoo. “Don’t forget – six months.” He went back to his work and I was dismissed.
His whole conversation with me left me wondering all the way home. I didn’t even think about my almost naked head. Would I dare call him in six months? Why wouldn’t he want to see me beforehand if he did like me? Why didn’t he even ask my name? Would he remember in six months if I called him. I’d have to think about this.
To Be Continued……………….