First of Many Haircuts

First of many haircuts by JimB.

Meeting Sharon – Part I

“Hi, Jen,” Sharon said as I entered the barbershop. “Have two ahead of you. You can wait or take a number and come back in, oh… say an hour.”

“I’ll wait,” I told her, taking a seat opposite her chair. “No sense in going and coming back.”

I picked up a magazine, glancing ever so often at the customers getting their hair cut. In Bob’s chair was a teenage boy, around fifteen, getting a trim of his boyish cut. Next in Ron’s chair was an elder man getting a trim of his thinning white hair. In the last chair, Ken’s chair, was a mother holding her young son whose curly hair was being trimmed.

Then, I looked towards Sharon’s chair.

In her chair was a teenage girl around sixteen. Her hair was past her shoulders, but not by much. Sharon was spraying water on it to dampen it, combing through it as she did. I went back to reading the magazine, when I heard the sound of clippers coming to life.

My head looked up towards Sharon’s chair, she was cutting the young lady’s hair with scissors. A nice shoulder length cut at that.

My ears picked up the sound of the clippers again. I turned toward the front of the shop. Bob was using the clippers over comb to blend the young boy’s hair.

I went back to the magazine. But, my thoughts went back twenty-something years, when I first met Sharon.

I was three. Mom and dad had split, because she caught him and the lady across the street in their bed. Both my grandparents were upset with this, giving mom their full support when she decided to leave him.

The next year, I was four, we moved here. “To get a fresh new start,” mom said. I didn’t see much of dad when mom kicked him out. He didn’t call or even come by to see either of us. This made my grandfather, his dad, really mad. So, when mom made the decision to relocate he gave her all the help she needed. He even found her the job she got when we arrived here.

We were here about a month when mom realized she had forgotten something. She had forgotten to find a beauty salon for us to go to. When she started looking around the closest shop was fifteen miles away. But, she found this barbershop a few blocks from where we lived, and they cut “Women’s and children’s hair,” according to the sign in the shop’s big window. So, we started coming here.

The first time we came it was kind of a cool day, a day we were not used to. So, she dressed me in pants and a warm sweatshirt. My hair was not that long, mom kept it cut short, about three or four inches longs all over, because I was always sticking the ends in my mouth and chewing on it.

Sharon had only been here a few weeks. So, she was kind of starting her clientele. Mom was glad she was there because she never trusted the male stylist at our old salon. They always wanted to do something mom didn’t want.

It was a Saturday morning, kind of cool as I said. When she took my coat off I looked like a little boy. But, mom didn’t notice this, to her I was her sweet little girl.

When our turn came mom asked Sharon if she cut children’s hair. “Sure,” Sharon told her, and placed something across the arms of her barber chair.

Mom motioned for me to walk to the chair. Sharon picked me up and placed me on the board. It was high, I had to look down to see mom.

As she placed the cape around my neck she asked mom how she wanted my hair cut.

Mom, who was busy reading a magazine, looked up and told her, “Short. Something real short for the summer.”

Sharon combed my hair this way and that way. She looked at my face, turning it from side to side.

“Will ‘he’ sit still for clippers,” she asked mom. I don’t think mom heard her say, “he.”

“Huh?” she said looking up from the magazine. “Were you asking me something?”

Sharon looked over her shoulder at mom, “Sit still,” she said.

“Oh…” Mom said still not know what she had been asked. “Yes. Never had any problems before.”

Sharon sprayed my little head with water as she combed it out. With her comb she combed a section and cut it short, very short, with the scissors. She continued combing and cutting all around my head until she had my hair all one length of about an inch.

“Do you want me to cut it short now,” she asked mom, who was still entranced with the magazine, “or wait a few weeks?”

Mom looked up, I don’t think she really saw how short Sharon had cut my hair. “No, cut it short now,” she told Sharon. “No point waiting a few weeks.”

Not once did mom say “she” or “her”.

Then, I felt Sharon’s left hand on top of my head. It was pushing my head down so I was looking at my lap. Then, the shop filled with a “click”, followed by a steady humming sound. A sound I had never heard before, not even at the beauty salon we used to go to.

Something cold touched my skin, and the humming sound was in the same place, too. I felt the cold thing move up the back of my head as the humming sound changed. I didn’t know what it was but it vibrated and felt good. When it reached the top of my head it moved away and the humming sound changed back to what it was after the “click” sound.

Then, the cold thing touched my skin on the neck, slowly it moved up the back of my head. This time when it reached the top of my head I saw hair, my light brown hair, slide into my lap. I smiled as I watched it hit the cape and slowly tumble until it stopped. I kicked my little legs causing the cape to shake as the pile of hair moved down a little more.

When it stopped another section of my hair came sliding down, stopping where the other one did. Again I shook my little legs and it slid down some.

I felt Sharon brush her left hand up the right side of the back of my head. It felt nice.

She placed her left hand back on the top of my head, the cold thing touched my skin behind my right ear. Just like it did in the back, it slowly moved up my head until it reached the top. It then moved away and some hair fell into my lap. It did it again and again until I felt Sharon’s left hand brush over where it, the clippers, had been.

My head still tilted downward, the pile of light brown hair growing in my lap, I was able to look up and see mom still reading the magazine.

Standing on the left side of the chair, Sharon tilted my head up and a little to the left. Her left fingers bent my left ear as she moved the clippers up to the top of my head, sending another section of hair into my lap. She started another pass with the clippers, this time pushing a section of hair forward with the clippers. When it reached the front of my face, the pile slowly fell into my lap.

Mom looked up from the magazine right then.

“Oh my God,” she let out. “What are you doing to my daughter’s HAIR?”

Sharon backed away some and dropped her arms to the side of her body in shock.

Then, everything just stopped. I mean everything. Even the other barbers.

Mom jumped up and came to the chair. “My God woman,” she said somewhat confused and angrily. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Sharon, somewhat surprised and looking a little shocked, replied, “Cutting your son’s hair short like you said.”

“SON?” Mom lashed back, grabbing my chin. “This is not my SON, this is my DAUGHTER. Can’t you see…? Can’t you tell the difference?”

Mom moved my head to the right. “My GOD,” she said when she saw the back of my head. “You’ve shaving my daughter’s head.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Sharon said in a low voice, as she looked at the other barbers. “But, you didn’t tell me she was your daughter. I even asked you, how you wanted “his” hair cut.”

Ken walked over to Sharon’s chair. “We won’t charge you,” he told mom. “I think a mistake was made by all. Sharon did say son. You were too engrossed in the magazine you were reading I don’t think you heard her.”

I heard mom take a deep breath and let it out fast and hard. She moved my head side to side, then brushed her fingers up the back of my head. I smiled at her. “I like how that feels,” I told her.

When I said that she jumped back in surprise. “What?” she asked me.

“I like it,” I repeated with a smile and moved my right hand over the back of my head. “It feels like that hair brush daddy gave me.”

This, “daddy gave me,” didn’t fit too well with mom. “Right,” she replied.

Sharon was standing there her heart in her throat. Ken looked at me.

“You know,” he said wisely, “at her age you really can’t tell the difference between boys and girls, unless you say so, or the they are dressed differently. Besides, while you were waiting your turn I saw her sticking her hair in her mouth and you tapping her hand. Maybe a short haircut, like Sharon was going to give, would be the thing to help stop her from doing that.”

Mom looked at him as if he was crazy. Then, she got that look on her. The one that says, “Maybe.”

“Besides,” Ken reminded her, “she just said she liked it.”

Mom looked me over again. She brushed her fingers through the top of my hair. She looked at the back then the left side of my head. She bit her lips in the same way she does when she is thinking about something.

“You really like it, sweetheart?” she asked me.

I smiled and brushed the back of my head again. “Yes,” I said nodding my head and bouncing in the chair. “Yes, I do. I want my hair short like this all over.”

Mom looked at me shaking her head in disbelief. “OK,” she said, turning and looking at Sharon.

She slowly walked back to her chair. “If she wants it short like that,” mom said in a weak voice, “you have my permission to finished how you were going to cut ‘her’ hair.”

Sharon looked at mom. “Are you sure?” she asked. Mom nodded her head. “Well, you said you wanted it short for the summer,” Sharon inquired.

Mom looked at her. “Yes.”

“Well, the cut I was going to do is shorter,” Sharon explained. “A lot shorter in the back and on the sides.”

Mom looked at us. “Shorter?” she asked choking somewhat on her word. “How much shorter?”

“Well,” Sharon started to explain, as Ken shook his head at her.

“Better go no further,” he told her as he walked back to his chair.

“No,” mom said. “Do tell me how much shorter.”

Sharon looked at the other barbers, who seemed to turn their attention back to their customers. Then, she looked at mom. “Well, I was going to cut the back and sides real short. Very close… it would look like his… I mean her head was shaved in the back and on the sides.”

Mom’s eyes jumped wide open as her head bounced back a little. “Shaved…?” was her reply.

“Well, it wouldn’t be shaved, only look like it. It would be buzzed close,” Sharon commented as she brushed what little hair was still left on the left side of my head.

“The top would be this long,” she continued as she indicated to the back of my head.

Still somewhat shocked by what had happened, then realizing she was as much at fault as Sharon, mom looked at me. “Well, if she won’t be able to chew on her hair. OK, do it.”

With that Sharon turned the clippers back on. Her left hand was placed back on the top of head and it was tilted to the right. Slowly she moved the clippers up the side on my head in front of my ear, another section of hair fell into my lap. She walked around the back of the chair to the right side. Within a few minutes the back and right side were finished.

She moved the clippers to my forehead, then moved it away.

“I can give her a boyish cut,” she said to mom, who was watching. “I didn’t cut the back and sides that short. I can blend the top in really nice.”

Mom looked at me. I was shaking my head “No.”

“I wanted my hair short,” I yelled out to them. “Like this,” I said, pointing to the side of my head.

“No,” mom said somewhat sadly. “No, go ahead and cut ‘her’ hair like you said. If I don’t let you she’ll be mad at me for ever. I would rather have her hair cut short like you said, and she wants.”

With that Sharon placed the clippers at my forehead and pushed it back over the top of my head. I watched it the big mirror as a pile of hair grew then fell behind the chair. She did this two more times, then walked around the back of the chair and did the same thing to the left side.

Mom and I were looking each other in the eyes. I was smiling, enjoying my haircut; while she was saddened somewhat.

Sharon took something off the clippers and tossed it on the shelf. She picked up something and while the clippers were humming she moved it over the clippers. After she wiped the clippers off, she turned around.

Standing behind me, again her left hand was placed on top of my head and it was tilted downward.

I felt warmth touch my skin, with the humming sound.

“Ma’am?” Sharon asked as mom looked up. “Are you sure? Once I start I won’t be able to do another cut than this one!”

I was looking at mom as best I could. I know she could see my eyes, as they were pleading with her to say yes. She blew a breath of air… “Yes,” she told Sharon.

With that I felt her slowly move the clippers up the back of my head and the humming sound change. As the clippers moved upward I started feeling the coolness of the air conditioner. My head still looking downward Sharon moved the clippers up the back of my head, again, again, and again.

Just like she did when she started my haircut, she worked on the right side next, finishing on the left side.

When she was finished with the back, I was able to see how short she was cutting my hair on the sides. When I saw how short my hair was, after she cut my hair with the clippers, my heart started choking in my throat… I wanted to start crying but something deep within me stopped me. I started feeling weak. I felt my body shiver. My hair was cut shorter than I thought, mainly in the back and on the sides. But, the top still looked like the hairbrush dad gave me, this I liked.

I watched in the mirror as Sharon, using a smaller clipper, begin lightly moving it along the edge of my hairline. First she did the right side, working it over and behind my ear. Then, she did the same thing on the left side.

Finally, she was standing behind the chair, and my head was tilted downward, again. I felt the tip of her fingers brush downward from that little bone that sticks out of your head. Then, I felt her stick the little clippers just below it and slowly move it downward. She did this across the back of my neck from side to side.

Finished, she undid the cape, letting it slide into my lap. I watched in the big mirror as she shook powder on a brush, then she moved it back and forth over the back and sides, even on top, of my head. Reaching across me she grabbed the cape, brushing across my face, and pulled the cape off me.

Mom, by this time, was standing in front of the chair. I could tell from her look she really didn’t like my haircut. But, I was smiling as I moved my little hands over and over my head.

“I like this,” I told her. “I really like it. Here, mom, feel how soft it feels.”

Somewhat nervous she did and a weak smile started coming to her face. “If you like it sweetheart,” she commented, “then mommy likes it, too.”

I could tell in her face, and in her voice, and I am sure Sharon and the other barbers knew it also, she really didn’t like it. She could have just picked me up out the chair and ran out the barbershop. But, instead we stayed, she said yes.

As she helped me out the chair she and Sharon looked at each other. “No charge,” Sharon told her. Mom shook her head.

“Go sit in the chair,” she told me point to where she had been sitting. “Mommy has to get her hair cut, too.”

I backed to the chair and climbed into it as mom was sitting in the barber’s chair. I looked at all the hair, the light brown hair that had been on my head, on the floor. I rubbed my hands over my head and smiled. “I like it mommy,” I yelled out hoping she understood I did. “I really like it.”

As she pulled the cape around mom’s neck, Sharon asked her, “Just a trim?”

Mom looked at me. I was smiling and rubbing my head with my little hands. “You look like you like your haircut,” she asked. I smiled and nodded my head.

I watched as mom looked at Sharon, who was standing on the right side of the chair nervously.

“Short,” mom replied. “But not as short as you cut my daughter’s.”

Sharon stood wondering. She combed mom’s hair back off her face.

“Something like you said you could have done with my daughter’s hair,” she told Sharon, “when I got upset.”

“A boyish cut,” Sharon said.

Mom nodded her head. “If that’s not as short as hers!”

“No,” Sharon told her as she moved the silver handle back and forth causing the chair to rise. “Well, only a little in the back… down here,” she said pointing behind mom’s head, and touching the place I think.

“That’s all right,” mom said as she crossed her legs.

Mom is next – Part II

Sharon began spraying mom’s head, combing it out as she did. I looked at the other barbers… Ken was now cutting another teenage boy’s hair like Sharon cut mine. He was sitting there like I did. He was smiling and talking with Ken.

The other barbers were not busy. Bob was sweeping the floor of hair and Ron was sitting in his chair reading the newspaper.

I started to pick up the magazine mom was reading, when I was getting my hair cut, but heard Sharon tell her something.

“I’m going to use the clippers,” she said holding the same one she used to cut my hair. “It will be quicker than with the scissors.”

Mom looked at the clippers and nodded her head, letting Sharon know she understood what she was going to do with them.

Just then a young man walked in. Sharon looked around.

“Hi Steve,” she said. “Just one in the chair and then you.”

“Got you,” he replied and sat in the chair next to me.

I looked up at him. “Got my hair cut short for the summer.”

He smiled and bushed the top of my head. “Really looks cool on you, son.”

“Her name is Jennifer,” Sharon told him before my mom or I.

His head popped back with a “what?” look in his eyes. “Sorry,” he said to me. “Still it looks cool on you.”

I smiled and thanked him. “That’s my mom in the chair,” I commented to him and pointing to her in Sharon’s chair. “She getting a boy’s haircut for the summer. She’s got a job and I don’t, so that is why I can get my hair cut short like this.”

Steve shook his head and looked at mom in the chair. “Cool.” He got up and walked out.

Sharon just shook her head. “Wonder what’s wrong with him!”

No one said a word.

I watched as Sharon combed a section of mom’s hair. Then she combed it again but stopped a little from her head. Quickly she pushed the clippers over the comb and ten inches of mom’s hair fell to the floor. She combed another section, quickly the clippers were pushed over the comb sending another ten inches to the floor.

She worked upward to the top of her head, then she worked back over her head. Combing and pushing the clippers over the comb. Ten inches, more or less, fell to the floor. She worked around the back, tilting mom’s head as she combed and pushed the clippers over the comb. Hair, more than mine, fell to the floor. Slowly Sharon worked up the back of her head. I could not see how short she was cutting, but it had to be like the right side.

Slowly Sharon was working the clippers and comb up the left side of mom’s head. Slowly, but surely, it was looking like the right side.

I could see mom’s eyes glancing in the walled mirror every so often. She began smiling when Sharon started on the left side. When Sharon was finished and had turned off the clippers, mom brought her hands from under the cape and combed her fingers through her short hair.

“Wow,” she said as her face lit up brightly, “this feels great.”

Sharon smiled as she cleaned the clippers off.

Mom was turning her head side to side, combing her fingers through her hair over and over.

Sharon tapped her on the shoulder. Waving the scissors she told mom, “Got to blend and thin.”

Mom combed her fingers through her short hair again. She was now smiling more than she had earlier. Then, without any warning…

“Can you cut it a little shorter,” she asked Sharon, who became surprised.

“Sure,” she said. “How much shorter?”

Mom looked at herself in the mirror. She combed her fingers up the side and pulled the hair outward. “About half this,” she said.

Sharon walked back to the shelf and put the scissors down. She picked up the small clippers, the last ones she used on me. She turned it on, it sounded louder than when she used it on me. Standing behind the chair she pushed mom’s head down, so she was looking in her lap. Starting at the bottom she combed a section and ran the clippers over the comb. She combed and ran the clippers over the comb working her was upward stopping a little above her ears. She stepped to the right a little, and began combing and running the clippers over the comb behind her right ear. She stopped a little above her ear.

She walked to the left side and did the same thing. Always stopping a little above her ear.

Then, she stepped to the left side. Combed a section over her ear and ran the clippers over the comb. She did this again and again, before starting upward in front of her left ear.

I remembered the teenage boy, and the elderly man, when we came in. They were getting their hair cut like this, but not as short as Sharon was clipping mom’s hair. But, mom did not say a word. She just watched as Sharon walked around the back of the chair to the right side. There she began combing and running the clippers over the comb. Section after section of mom’s hair fell to the floor. The sides of her head were as short as the top of my head.

Sharon slowly walked around from one side to the other side. She would comb a section, then another. Every so often she would comb the section again and run the clippers over the comb.

Sure she had clippered mom’s hair like she wanted it, Sharon put the little clippers on the shelf and picked up the scissors. She started on the right side and combed a little and cut some hair with the scissors. She worked upward stopping where she had with the clippers. Little by little mom’s “boyish” haircut was taking shape. Her face looked bigger, her eyes looked bigger, but her smile was the biggest.

Then Sharon stopped with the scissors and comb. She picked up the clippers, it was bigger than she used to clip my hair with, she put something on the teeth. Standing behind the chair she pushed mom’s head down and slowly pushed the clippers upward, stopping where she always did. She did the same thing on both sides, then took off what was on the teeth.

Starting on the right side she placed the clippers at mom’s hairline and pushed the clippers upward a little, stopping just below where she did the first time. Mom’s hair was shorter, almost short like mine was on the back and sides. But she didn’t say a word. I think she was enjoying getting her hair cut like I did.

Sharon worked around mom’s head. Pushing the clippers upward from the hairline, always stopping in the same place. In a neat line.

Finished she dusted the brush over the back and sides of mom’s head, then across her face. She undid the cape and let it slid into mom’s lap.

Mom raised her hands to the side of her head and slowly combed her fingers through the clipper sides. Then, she combed the fingers of her right hand through the longer hair on top of her head, while brushing her left hand up the back of her head.

Sharon was standing behind the chair watching mom do this. Then, she stretched her arms outward, pulling the end of a towel in each hand. She looked at mom in the big mirror. “I can go a little shorter if you want?”

Mom eyes caught hers. She smiled, “No, this is short enough.”

She moved her hands to the arms of the chair. Sharon spread the towel across her back then folded it over her shoulder, tucking it into the collar of her blouse.

Mom sat there not knowing what Sharon was going to do. I wondered myself, because she didn’t do this to me. All she did was remove the cape and that was that.

I watched, as did mom, as Sharon stood by the shelf, with her body blocking a soft winding sound. When the sound stopped she turned around and walked to the right side of the chair.

Mom turned her head towards her, her eyes grew with amazement.

“To trim your hairline,” Sharon told mom. “This is better than the little edging clippers. I am sure you will enjoy this part.”

With that said, she began dabbing some white stuff along mom’s hairline. I sat up and with a huff I crossed my arms. “She didn’t do that to me,” I said to myself. “Whatever that is…”

She dabbed it over her ear, across the back of her neck, then the left side.

She wiped her fingers and hands. She picked up something on the shelf, took hold of the leather hanging from the right arm of the chair. The thing in her right hand opened when she moved her wrist. Then, she moved it up and down over the leather.

Then, she began scraping, little short scraping, removing the white stuff. She worked upward and over her right ear, then down behind it. She walked around the chair to the left side and did the same thing. Finally, standing behind the chair, she asked mom to tilt her head a little. Mom did it.

She brought her right hand up, with whatever it was still in her hand. She began moving it downward from high up the back of her head. Slowly she worked downward, then moving a little to the left. Downward, then a little to the left, until she was finished.

She closed the thing and gently tossed it on the shelf. Using the towel she wiped the remaining white stuff from mom hair. She put some powder on the brush and brushed around mom’s head, and across her face as she pulled the cape from across her.

She turned the chair so mom was facing the mirror that was behind the chair. She took the hand mirror handing on the back of the chair and held it to show mom the back of her head. Mom slowly moved her fingertips over the sides, then backward to the back of her head. When she reached her neck her body rose upward for some reason.

“I told you would like it,” Sharon said as she placed the mirror back on the chair and turned it around.

“Yes,” mom said. “I see what you mean.”

As she stepped from the chair I ran up to her. She leaned down and I brushed my little fingers through her hair. The sides were almost as short as mine. Then, I moved my little fingers behind her head. I felt the back of her neck, it felt like daddy’s face after he shaved. You could not feel any hair there. And it was as high up as Sharon did in the back of my head with the clippers.

I walked to Sharon and gave a tug on her skirt. Pointing up towards mom I asked, “Why didn’t you do that to me?”

She smiled… “In a few more years if you still have your hair cut this short.”

Back to the present – Part III

“Jen… Jen.” I heard my name being called. “Wake up girl. It’s your turn,” Sharon said.

“Sorry. Must have dozed off a little,” I told her as I got up and walked to her chair.

As I stepped in the chair she shook the cape open, tossing it with skill, as I sat in the chair.

“What’ll it be?” she asked pulling it in place around my neck.

“I don’t know,” I commented to her. “Been having this crew cut off and on for years, then a little boy’s cut, like mom gets. I think something different.”

Sharon combed through my hair as she always did. She turned the chair around so my back was to the customers’ waiting chairs. She combed my hair back off my face. Then, she placed her hands on top of my head.

“What you got in mind?” I asked her.

“Well, I know one cut neither you nor you mom have tried,” she said with a smile. “Well, I take that back. Your mom almost got it a few summers ago, when you were at college.”

I looked at her smiling face. “What could she be talking about?” I said to myself. With her hands still on my head, holding my hair down, I still couldn’t think of what she was talking about.

“Well,” she said, “trust me. I know you’ll like it. I even bet your mom will be in here before I close tonight.”

She removed her hand from my head. I looked at myself. Then, that little thing in me came to light. Knowing Sharon it was going to be something she knew I would like, even mom would like it.

She stood leaning on the shelf, our eyes looking at each other. I glanced back at myself in the mirror.

“What the hell,” I told her. She knew what that meant, it meant the same thing every time I told her.

She smiled as I made myself comfortable and crossed my legs. I watched as she reached under the shelf, taking hold of the big black clippers, which she had been using for my crew cuts for the last ten years.

Her left hand searched for and found a small can of oil. She turned the clippers on and oiled the teeth. When they were working like she wanted she turned it off and wiped it off.

Then, she walked to the right side of the chair. Standing there she turned the clippers on, not turning the chair around. “You’re going to like watching this haircut,” she told me as she raised the clippers to my forehead.

I felt my body shiver, a quick coldness then warmth slivered down my body. I got a deep breath as I watched her place the clippers at my forehead. As I let the breath out, Sharon began slowly pushing the clippers back over my head. Slowly she moved the clippers, pushing a pile of hair that was growing until it reached the back of my head. Then, the pile disappeared.

I watched her bring the clippers back to my forehead. I took another deep breath.

Just as she started to push the clippers backward, “You’re going to shave my head?” I asked as I let the breath out. Sharon smiled as she pushed the clippers back mowing another closely clipped path over my head.

When the clippers stopped at the back and the little pile of hair fell to the floor, she smiled, “What other kind of haircut did you think I meant? I’ve given you, and your mom, all the short haircuts I know.”

I smiled and made myself comfortable. Slowly Sharon ran the clippers over my head, but the side of my head. Over and over, until there was nothing but a fine fuzz sticking up. Sandpaper, I remember someone calling it.

She removed the cape and tucked a large towel in the collar of my blouse. Using a wash cloth she washed my buzzed head with warm water. Then, she took another towel and soaked it in warm water and wrapped it around my head.

She applied a heavy layer of shaving cream on my head, spreading and rubbing it in my scalp.

She picked up the straight razor, she used so skillfully, and sharpened it on the leather strap handing from the right arm of the chair.

Slowly she began shaving my head. Starting in the center of my forehead, shaving downward over the side. Slowly working section after section back over my head. Then, she shaved the back of my head and nape. Finally, working from the back towards the front she shaved the left side.

With each stoke of the razor my head felt the coolness of the air conditioner grow over it.

My body shivered and shivered with pleasure after pleasure. When she was shaving the back of my head my mind told me, “You thought the first haircut Sharon gave you was pleasing.”

The feeling grew when she lathered my head again. This time she used a safety razor to shave my head smoother, she told me.

When she was finished my body was in a warmth I had never felt before. Slowly it cooled down causing my body to shake. Sharon saw this and smiled, “Told you so.”

When she was finished wiping my head and dusting it with that sweet powder, she turned the chair around so it was facing the customers’ waiting chairs.

When she stopped it… it was then I realized I was not the only customer in the shop. There were two men, three women, and one teenage girl sitting in the customer chairs. When I saw them my heart climbed to my throat. Sharon lowered the chair and I stepped out.

“I close at five,” she told me as I walked out the shop. It was two now.

When I met mom it was three thirty. When she saw me her eyes widened as her smiled grew. As I sat at the table she raised her right hand to my head. Gently she stroked my shaven head. I watched in her eyes as her body began shivering. Her face became pale, then cherry-red.

“Five o’clock,” I told her. She smiled.

“Will you come with me?” she asked. I smiled. “Yes.”

The End…

 

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