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Jon exits the executive suite - part 1 by Manny
"Aloof, authoritarian, uncaring....?!" Mr. Stevens sputtered as he read aloud the executive summary of the office climate survey I'd prepared for him. "I just can't see where this is coming from?" he spouted, half in anger and half in disbelief. "These employees are paid well and have a fairly good benefits package."
Sitting behind his huge desk, with "I love me" walls flanking both sides of the corner office, Mr. Stevens simply could not see himself the way his employees did. In an expensive, double-breasted power suit with starched shirt and fine silk tie, Mr. Stevens dressed as the way he felt the CEO should. Yes, image was everything.
And his hair! Oh, what a beautiful piece of corporate elegance. The thick, brown locks with a nice wave were perfectly manicured and brushed tidily to the side. Mr. Stevens' plush back and full sides were trimmed dutifully every two weeks at the salon in the lobby of the building called "Gentlemen's Quarters".
"I'm sorry, sir," I said firmly. "But you asked for the truth, the unvarnished truth. Of course, I knew you wouldn't be happy with the results. But your employees want more than a paycheck. They want to belong to a fun, caring community."
"They have a home and neighborhood as well as friends for that!" the boss snapped, unconvinced.
He stewed for a moment, then softened his tone. "So what should I do about it?" he asked. "I'm all ears. You diagnosed the problem, now prescribe the medication."
"The workplace dress code. Abolish it! People want to dress more casually......" I started.
Mr. Stevens stifled an explosive response. He fumed. Then he snapped, "They can have casual Fridays."
"Casual Fridays all years and dress-down for a month if they meet the office charity drive goal," I countered.
"Fine, but I don't see why they just don't support the Salvation Army or give some money in their church's offering plate. Why does the office need to be involved in raising money for a cure to end cancer?" he scoffed.
"Because it helps develop a sense of community!" I exclaimed. "It's about coming together and having fun....."
"It's about being an employee, paid to do a job!" he countered.
"And speaking of the fund raiser," I said, eyeing his lush locks, "I want you to participate. Sign up. Join in the event!"
"I already have. I'm sponsoring all the managers who are 'braving for the shave' this year. That's a good $500 out of my own wallet," he retorted.
Then I summoned my courage and was very bold. I stepped up right next to him and towered above him. I could smell the aroma of the expensive shampoo emanating from his trim locks. I rested my hand on his shoulder. Then, I summonsed my courage and very gently fondled his hair, "I mean, put this nice hair of yours on the chopping block, sir...."
He sat in stunned silence. The suggestions was way too much for him to fathom.
I pressed my pointed and brought him back to focus on the suggestion by given his locks a gentle tug. "When you've put your fussy executive coif on the chopping block and have been shaved bald in front of the cheering employees, I can assure you not a one will characterize you as 'aloof or uncaring'! Let's shake things up around here, sir. It's what you've tasked me to do, but I need your cooperation."
Instead of exploding and trying to break free from my surprise grasping of his hair, Mr. Stevens sort of crumpled and slumped forward. "Have my head shaved....?" he muttered.
"I know, it's a very bitter pill for a vain man like yourself, Mr. Stevens. And you have such beautiful hair.... But you asked me for my recommendations. I swear to you I can help you turn the morale here around." Then I smoothed his hair into place. The softness of the chestnut waves felt exquisite. "You have such great hair for a man your age -- not a hint of gray or brittleness. I could stroke it like this all day...."
I allowed myself the liberties with Mr. Stevens because I knew he was sweet on me. I'd always professionally rebuffed his advances in a playful, loving way....but I knew I could have the boss eating out of the palm of my hand if I wanted to. And, just now, I wanted to! I wanted to bring him down and have him submissive to me.
"You've been my right-hand man for almost a decade, Wes. I'm going to trust you on this. Where's the sign-up sheet?" He looked up at me, in the eye, "I can't believe you're talking me into this, you know."
I smiled softly. "I work closely with you, sir, and know underneath all these external trapping of power and authority, there's a decent good man who cares." I continued to fondle his pretty locks and he drank in the attention. For years I had dreamed of giving Mr. Stevens his first butch cut and pulling him off his corporate pedestal of power!
I placed a paper in front of him. "See, I had already prepared this for you, sir. I knew you would listen to me. That's the kind of brave man you are! I can't wait to be your barber," I said, bringing my face down near the silken locks.
"Oh ye, of great faith...and now I need to become 'brave for the shave'!" he laughed. "I see...'shavee: Jonathan Stevens' and 'shaver: Wesley Solbrow'. Oh, and I already have my first pledge."
"Of course, it's an office tradition. The selected shaver is also the first supporter. And I'm shelling out $50 to see this tidy, executive coif fall to the barber's cape." Again, I stroked Mr. Stevens beautiful hair. "You'll look so sweet and vulnerable with your very first butch cut, Jon."
Then I began to unfasten his expensive tie. "This is very unnecessary? Let's get rid of it too right away. Now sit still, Jon, while I remove some of these things that create distance with the employees....." He sat helplessly while I took off his tie. "Stand up. Let's take off that very expensive suit jacket."
Jon whimpered, but proved himself compliant. His divestiture of power and control had gotten off to an excellent start.
Then I slipped into his huge office chair and opened a new email message from his account. "A challenge from Jon" I labeled the message. He had never gone by Jon....always by Mr. Stevens. So, just that change spoke volumes. "As the team leader, I offer you this challenge. Exceed the $10,000 goal in 'Brave for the Shave' and here's what you'll get: casual Fridays throughout the year, all of July in dress-down mode, and my own executive suite turned into an employee lounge area."
"What?!! Wait just a moment," Jon sputtered. "My office....and where will I sit?"
"In the empty cubicle next to me, Jon," I said firmly. "We'll be able to chat with each other over the divider. Besides, you really need to be closer to the employee. And that means giving up the executive suite. Period! We're going to big changes here....." I purred.
Then I eyed his fabulous mane of well groomed locks -- his pride. How they shimmered in the office light! They too would be stripped from him.
I finished typing. "And to do my part, I've just signed up as a shavee. Stop by to support me!"
Without asking, I hit the 'send' button and let out a laugh. "There! Mr. Stevens, CEO....has become Jon, team leader! Shavee wannabe."
"Me? A shavee?!" he gasped with a tone of agony. I let out a slight chuckle. Jon turned to see his reflection in the window and fiddled with his hair nervously. "Pretty soon, I'll be 'Jon the Cueball'. My first butch...I'm going to look like such a dork," he whimpered.
"You certainly will! But, we'll go out for beers afterwards. I'll comfort you, if that's what you need...." I added to soften the blow.
When he turned back toward me, to my surprise, Jon's crotch had sprung to life. The big bulge was right at my eye level. "Yes, I think that's going to be just what I will need, Wes...." His hand rested on my shoulder tenderly.
But we were interrupted by a clamor outside Jon's door. "There's a line forming out here to sponsor you, Mr. Stevens," someone called out.
The office transformation was instantaneous. Excitement buzzed about. Morale shot up anticipating the deconstruction of their vain, pampered, authoritarian CEO. Mr. Stevens....I mean, Jon....became very approachable to the employees. I saw several of them become bold enough to tussle his locks and mess up his tidy executive coif.
"You won't be the same without this helmet hair!" one fellow laughed.
Jon smoothed his hair back into place quickly and mumbled, "I sure won't...."
On the eve of the big event, Jon called me into his office and shut the door. He was a nervous wreck. "Wes, I don't want to go through with this. I can't! My hair....." he stammered.
"Your pride and glory! Oh, it's such a wonderful mane," I said, as I cozied up to him. I ran my fingers through his silken locks. The smell of shampoo was like catnip. My fingers began to simulate a set of electric hair clippers. "It will be so fun playing barber and effecting your transformation. I can't wait to see your lovely hair falling to the cape....and gradually a shockingly white scalp, with a fine layer of stubble, taking it's place."
"You'll enjoy seeing me feeling vulnerable and nervous, won't you, Wes?" he asked. "I'm begging you to let me off the hook. Please! I will give up my office and put $5,000 to the charity cause....but I don't want to climb up on the stool tomorrow night."
"And you don't want to feel the cape being fastened tightly about your neck, or bow your head submissively before the clippers, or watch your beautiful hair fall to the floor at my feet?" I asked. "Of course you don't want all that, but you will. Yes, Jon, you will! And I am going to make sure of it. I afterward, I am going to keep you clipped bald! I'll announce your new nickname before the cape comes off. 'Baldy! Please refer to him as Baldy from now on!' all instruct the employees. The team will love it....won't they, Baldy?"
"Yes, they will," he murmured. "Especially you."
Suddenly, I grabbed Jon's expensive, silk tie and yanked it toward me. "Let's take care of this bit of snobbery right now!" I laughed, reaching for the set of scissors on the desk.
"That's my favorite Joseph Abboud tie!" he shrieked as I chopped the tie off right below the knot and held it up like a hunting trophy.
"Not any more, it's not!" I cackled. I tossed the shredded silk remnant into the trash can. "You need to start getting used to the new you....or you'll feel traumatized when you become 'Baldy' shuffling towards your cubicle in normal people's clothes."
Then I grabbed the thick, voluminous forelock that was usually swept back from the prominent brow. I snapped the scissors a few times. "How I'd love to chop this off right now!" The silken hair felt divine. "But, I can't deprive the team of the pleasure watching your complete divestiture, Jon. Your total transformation from 'Mr. Stevens' to 'Baldy'!"
His cock swelled. "How did you know I'd get turned on by being manhandled by a subordinate, Wes?" he asked.
"Just a lucky coincidence," I shrugged. "And a nice match for my desire to shave off all your beautiful hair. After years of admiring it at the head of the boardroom conference table....so perfectly groomed and shiny. Dreaming of barbering you down to the wood while you prattled on about profits and economies of scale."
"Tomorrow, you will be a barber who shows no mercy to the vain, cocky executive -- the one you made to sit on the stool and cower beneath your powerful, fast-feed clippers."
"Yes, that's right," I said, as our lips locked together....
[to be continued]