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Miss Bloomfield [part 1] The forced high by Seb
This Story was posted on the TheNylonCape webside a few years ago.
Since this side isn´t online anymore, I wanted to reissue this story on this side.
Love to talk about such haircut fantasies, so feel free to text me to email@example.com
Hope the author does not mind that this story does reissue here.
It’s hard to move back into your mother’s house after spending 6 months abroad. Rian had been living on his own during a student exchange program with a British university based in London. Rian only got back two months ago, but he still couldn’t get used to his mother’s rules around the house.
These rules weren’t unreasonable, but you change when you live on your own for a while.When Rian got back to the States, nothing had changed. His mother still treated him like a child and could be very bossy. She was a stern lady and standing in her way was never a good idea. It was in Rian’s best interest to treat her with respect and to show her good results, like Rian’s grades.
Originally Rian grew up in the States in a reasonably sized town. He had been living with only his mother for his whole life, except for those 6 months while he was in Europe. He was now 20 years old and felt like an adult with all this new life experience under his belt.
Rian was studying so he would become a chemist and work at one of the bigger plants in the city. Though he needed another 2 years to finish his education. Unfortunately this would mean another 2 years of living with his mother.
This Monday afternoon Rian was eating dinner with his mother, Lia. She was an intelligent lady in her late 40s. She had long dark brown hair and kept herself in shape by working out twice a week. During the dinner they had some chit chat which meant that Lia ran a live commentary on non trivial things.
"Well have you seen the neighbour’s car lately? They sure need to wash it more and that dog of them, have they taken him to the groomer?" Lia stopped before she finished her boring observation to fill in an otherwise silent moment.
Rian looked up from his plate, she was staring at him with a strange look on her face, it kinda frightened him.
"Speaking of grooming… Look at that hideous hair of yours, when was the last time you got a haircut?"
Rian started thinking, he actually had let it grow since his last haircut which he received when he only just moved to London. His hair was reaching his chin in the front and in the back the hair battled it’s way past his shirt collar to finish the unmaintained look.
"I like it longer mom, it’s much more in these days." Rian said annoyed like a teenager. "Mothers never understood fashion. I’m 20 years old now, can’t she get off my back…" Rian thought to himself.
Lia had a grim look on her face. "I don’t care what’s in, as long as you are living under my roof I wont allow you to look like a homeless person." She said with a sense of authority.
Rian had always hated this argument, nothing you could really win after this had been said.
"This is so unfair, I’m 20 years old." Rian thought to himself. Although he was smart enough not to continue the argument, instead he changed the subject to avoid further conflict. Rian wasn’t planning on getting it cut but he also did not want to poke the bear.
"Do you know, there is this guy in my university class and he even failed that easy chemistry test from last week?"
"Don’t change the subject mister. Your hair is way too long. You should have gotten it cut months ago. I want you to look like a human being again. Don’t make me invite Miss Bloomfield over to give you a haircut."
A shiver went down Rian’s spine. Hearing his mother say "Miss Bloomfield" and the word haircut. He instantly got a flashback…
"Rian!" My mother yelled "Get downstairs, will you.."
Ugh, what now? I was just playing on my Gameboy and I was about to set a new high score. I went downstairs regardless, because I knew my mother didn’t like waiting.
While I walked through the hallway I saw an unfamiliar coat on the coat stand. Did we have a visitor?
As I walked into the living room I saw a chair in the middle of the room. Next to it stood a tall woman who was in her mid 40s. She was wearing a white satin blouse with an over the knee black skirt. She looked professional and threatening. I looked at my mother, not knowing what was going on.
"Rian, I’ve reviewed our finances and your hair salon visits are costing us simply too much money."
I was confused, I don’t think we ever needed to save money. It had never been an argument before at least.
"One of my co-workers suggested Miss Bloomfield…" My mother continued while pointing at the woman who had a sense of confidence hanging around her.
"… she makes home visits and doesn’t even charge half of what your regular salon does even though she has over 20 years of experience in a children’s salon."
My mother concluded with a smile on her face.
I just stood there astonished. The lady who was called upon to save us money was just staring at me.
"I’m not a child any more mom. I’m 13, I can go to the mall and…"
"No you can not, we need to save money as a family. Now behave, I’m just going to run to the store to get a few things."
I just stood there puzzled as my mother put on her jacket and turned to our new hairdresser.
"Thank you for coming on such a short notice. I hope you don’t mind if I step out for some errands. I know teenagers can be trouble."
Miss Bloomfield replied with a smile on her face. "I was in the neighbourhood anyway, besides I got plenty of experience with unruly teenagers. There will be no trouble."
As she finished her sentence her cold eyes turned to me with still that dominant look on her face.
I didn’t want to get a haircut, I wanted to grow it longer. I especially did not want to get my hair cut by some children’s hairdresser, I was in high school now for crying out loud!
Miss Bloomfield didn’t like wasting time, she made that clear by getting on with the task ahead of her right away.
"Sit, Rian." A stern voice echoed between the walls. It was the type of voice from somebody with authority. Somebody you should not mess with.
I looked at Miss Bloomfield, she was pointing at the empty chair which stood in the middle of the room. The area under and around the chair was covered with old newspapers.
Hesitantly I moved over in the direction of the chair.
My bare feet walked over the soft carpet, until I came so close I had to make the first step onto the square shaped area which was covered with newspapers.
My body was warning me that I had to get out of this situation. I should not go through with this… save myself!
But what could I do? As this thinking process was going on, my mother seemed to lose her patience.
"What are you waiting for Rian?" My mother asked with a sense of annoyance in her voice.
"Mom I don’t want to get my hair cut, all my friends…" I was abruptly interrupted by a furious mother.
"You get into that chair RIGHT NOW or I will run upstairs and throw out that Gameboy!"
I couldn’t believe my mother was doing this to me, but I certainly did not want to lose my Gameboy.
I slowly continued into the direction of the chair.
With the crackling noise of the newspapers under my feet I made it to the chair and sat down.
"I don’t want you to give him a trim, he needs to look reasonable for at least the next three months." My mother said as she moved towards the hallway door.
I looked helplessly at my mother while yelling in fear. "Wait? What? No, I don’t want to go short!"
My mother made eye contact with me and gave me a look which meant "don’t even think about it."
I backed off.
The sound of the front door slamming shut a little louder than usual sealed my faith.
I sat in the chair, shivering. I really wanted to keep my long rebellious haircut. My friends had it too.
"Your mother’s orders were clear. Don’t cause any more trouble. Consider this your first and final warning." The 40 year old hairdresser said with her dominant voice.
"Okay" I almost whispered.
"Okay what?" A louder more angry voice countered me.
"Okay miss Bloomfield." I responded meekly.
"Good boy." She said in a mocking tone.
While I was staring in front of me, I could look out the living room window. I was sitting exactly on the spot where normally the coffee table was. Just in the middle of the room, in between the TV and the couch. Our living room window connected to the street, which was a quiet suburban street with the occasional by passer.
Behind me I could hear the footsteps of Miss Bloomfield as she walked onto the newspapers. The newspapers were like a battleground in the middle of the room. Now we were both in this boxing ring, although she was the heavy weight champion, and I was somebody who had never thrown a punch in my life. I didn’t stand a chance.
I heard some rustling behind me. With a big swish a white nylon cape was draped over my body. I was just wearing shorts and a tshirt so I could feel the white nylon cape brush over my knees and forearms. The cold soft material made me shiver. The cape was the standard type of cape any salon would have, only it was not the typical black cape that most salons seemed to be going with.
Miss Bloomfield buttoned the nylon cape up snugly around my neck. It felt a little uncomfortable.
I reached with my right hand from under the cape and tugged at the neckline to make it looser. One button snapped open and gave me some more comfort.
"What did I tell you Rian? I told you to behave." My new tormentor said as she loosened the rest of the snapper closure.
I didn’t understand what she meant but I was glad the cape came off.
Miss Bloomfield turned around and walked over to her beauty case which lay open on the dining table. This was behind me but I could hear her footsteps on the newspapers as she walked away from me.
"I actually only use this cape whenever I’m having to cut the hair of children or teenagers who cannot behave and are really hard to handle. Like difficult teenagers in an orphanage or parents who want to hand out a punishment haircut."
I didn’t really get what she meant, but she sounded even less friendly than before.
I had the feeling that she was coming closer again. That feeling was confirmed when I heard her foot steps on the newspapers again. With a large swish a new cape flew over me and draped all over my body. The bright pink salon cape was much bigger than the previous cape.
She held the cape out in front of me.
I saw two kind of openings floating in front of me.
These two openings were quite wide and seemed to have elastic bands tailored into the outer ring. There was a piece of elastic cord hanging from each opening with a small metal object attached near the end.
The holes were intimidating, not knowing where they would lead my hands.
Still filled with fear I reluctantly slid my hands in.
My hands and arms slid down the sleeves as Miss Bloomfield pulled the cape gently towards herself.
My hands ventured deeper into the unknown until the sleeves just stopped. There was no opening at the end of this nylon tunnel, instead the ends were like mittens, without any fingers or thumbs.
Miss Bloomfield noticed that my hands had reached the end. She wasted no time to pull on one of the elastic cords. Once she gave it a good tug I could feel the opening of the sleeve tighten around my upper arm at the height of my arm pit.
She expertly switched hands which resulted in the other sleeve tightening around my upper arm.
With both her hands Miss Bloomfield pulled up the cape so it was up against my neck.
I heard multiple snaps close, one after another. It must have been at least 6 of them. With every ‘snap’ I felt more trapped.
The end result was an even more tightly fitting cape around my neck.
The pink nylon cape draped all the way around the chair almost touching the floor. My feet were dangling above the floor, Although all I saw was a mass of pink nylon covering me and the chair completely.
I tried to move my arms, but since the sleeves were attached to the salon gown on the inside I couldn’t move them too much. I was moving the whole cape while my hands and arms were encased in these ridiculous sleeves.
"So, now let’s get rid of some of this hair shall we?" Miss Bloomfield announced while admiring her handiwork.
With quick strokes of her comb and the helpful mist of the spray bottle, Miss Bloomfield tamed my hair while making sounds of disapproval.
It didn’t take her long to segment the hair on top of my head with some hair clips.
"Look down for me Rian." She said like she was talking to a small child.
I looked down at the red carpet in front of me.
A firm grip on the top of my head followed. With some pressure the hand firmly tilted my head until my chin touched the cold nylon material of the cape.
She continued to comb the hair at the back of my head. The combing of hair was a nice feeling although it abruptly got replaced by the cold steel of a pair of scissors against my neck.
I braced myself for the first cut. Thoughts of fear and anger ran through my head.
The scissors remained idle for another few seconds.
"I changed my mind." Miss Bloomfield said as she pulled her scissors away from my head.
I sighed some relief as I slowly lifted my head up slightly.
"Your mother didn’t seem to think there was such a thing as ‘too short"." Miss Bloomfield stated as she walked away from the chair.
I could hear her grab a thing or two from her beauty case before adding. "So let’s take the easy way out."
Now I was really confused. Was there such a thing as an easy way out?
The room filled with the sound of footsteps on the newspapers.
All I heard was a loud click followed by a buzzing noise behind me that was filling up the room.
It couldn’t be?
Before I had time to react I felt her now familiar grip on top of my head. Forcefully tilting my head back into position.
My long haired covered nape was now completely open for an attack of the hungry clippers.
I had shivers running down my spine.
She kept a firm grip while she placed the running clippers at the base of my neck.
Big chunks of hair started to fall down to the floor.
I couldn’t believe this was happening, but I was frozen like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car.
Once the back of my head felt noticeably cooler without the thick layer of hair, the clippers moved towards my left side.
Her left hand was holding on to the loud buzzing predator.
Her right hand was still firmly placed on top of my head as she tilted it slightly to the right so she had a better angle for the shearing.
She placed the angry beast against my head next to my ear and started running them up.
The clippers kept moving upwards until she started the next lane. The massacre continued all over my left side before she switched to my right side.
The right side of my head got the same treatment as the left side. I saw a lot of hair slide down the cape while the loud clippers were buzzing near my ears.
Within minutes I lost almost all the hair on the sides and back of my head.
The room became quiet. She had killed that hair eating monster with the flick of a switch. I was almost thinking that I was saved now, but there was more to come.
She picked up her scissors and comb again and started undoing the clips that held my hair out of the way on the top of my head. The spray bottle made an appearance again to make my hair more manageable and easier to cut.
Miss Bloomfield worked very efficiently. I was staring in front of me as the hair was raining down on the pink cape. Those wet pieces of hair were part of me before, now they were just sliding down to end up on the layer of newspapers on the floor.
This torture seemed to go on forever, but in reality she worked very efficiently. She did not care for opinions or small talk, she was hired to cut hair and LOTS of it.
After a few more minutes of tidying up Miss Bloomfield announced the haircut was complete. "We’re done Rian. Now the next time I want you to behave better, understand? Don’t make me buzz the top too…"
She was talking to me like I was a small child.
"Yes Miss Bloomfield." I said with the sound of defeat in my voice.
The end result was a crewcut which was still long enough on top for me to style a little bit, about 3cm/1.5 inch. This was the shortest haircut I had ever received.
From that moment onwards Miss Bloomfield would cut it once every three months. She always used that same pink cape to restrict me in my seat and give me that same crewcut. I got kind of used to it and thought it was best to cooperate to get it over with as fast as possible.
Although my mother’s argument was to save money, she herself would still continue to go to her salon. She probably did not want to take me to the mall herself while she could simply have somebody come over to get it over with, which was also the cheaper option.
During the summer holidays I turned 16. It was time again for me to receive a haircut. My mother would call Miss Bloomfield up and inform me two days in advance that it was time for me to receive a haircut. I had already learned at this point that complaining wouldn’t get me anywhere.
The haircut itself proceeded as usual, although the ending was different.
Normally my mother would take advantage of the fact that there was an adult looking after me for half an hour. She would go to the grocery store or run some other errands which she didn’t always have time for as a single mother.
This time my mother had not left the house and walked in to admire the handiwork of Miss Bloomfield while I was just fresh out of the chair.
"Great haircut as always. This will be great for the warm weather."
Miss Bloomfield folded up her special pink cape as she received the praises for her work.
"Thank you Lia. It’s my pleasure, I always enjoy those summer haircuts. Speaking of which…"
Miss Bloomfield’s cold gaze turned to my mother.
"…why don’t you have a seat, I haven’t gotten a chance to give you a good summer haircut yet."
This was the first time in my life I saw my mother was nervous and not at ease. She normally was a very strong lady, but not on this occasion. She started stroking her brown long hair that reached the middle of her back protectively while pleading her defence. "No that’s okay, I’ll go to my salon next week."
My mother was avoiding Miss Bloomfield’s cold gaze.
There was a very strange vibe in the room.
"Nonsense, I got time. Come on, I’ll give you a trim on the house."
I was still rubbing my neck to get rid of all the itchy hairs that had made its way down my collar despite the tight caping I received earlier.
My mother was standing there uneasy but got a little bit of grip back it seemed as she looked my way. "Rian don’t throw those hairs on the floor. Run upstairs and take a shower."
I was happy to get away from the intimidating hairdresser and left the tension filled room to make my way upstairs.
Once I showered I played more video games in my room. When it was dinner time I got quite a surprise. My mother’s long dark brown hair which had reached the middle of her back just over an hour ago was now cropped to a short inverted bob.
I reacted surprised and asked her what had happened.
My mother’s reaction was unique. "I got it cut, Okay?! Now sit down and eat your dinner before it gets cold." She said annoyingly and upset.
That was the first but also final time my mother was home while I received my cropping. After this event she made sure to leave money on the table and flee the scene before Miss Bloomfield would even arrive.
I remember Miss Bloomfield asked me about my mother often. If she was home and if I knew where she was. Also what her hair looked like. Although being a boy and having no interest in haircuts, I simply replied with either ‘the same’ or ‘just long’.
Miss Bloomfield was still the tormentor who would cut my hair, although the last haircut I received was in the summer I turned 17. I expected a haircut somewhere during the autumn break, but it never came.
I was smart enough not to ask about it or bring it up. I just considered myself lucky. Once my hair reached well over my collar that winter I found a note from my mother on the kitchen table with 25 dollars next to it.
The note read ‘Go get a haircut this weekend‘.
I was excited but also confused. Would this really mean the end of the embarrassing haircut ritual?
From that moment onwards I got my hair cut at the salon in the mall. I knew better than to abuse this new privilege and happily got decent cuts from the attractive girls that worked there. They made nice small talk and actually listened to my wishes to keep it a little longer, although nothing too drastic… I knew better than to abuse this new found right and see a return of Miss Bloomfield.
"Rian, are you even listening to me?" Lia angrily asked her son.
Rian just snapped out of his daydream. He must have been zoned out for some time while his mother had continue to lecture him on his appearance. Rian just nodded. His mother was not impressed by his lack of response and wanted to make sure that the message had come across.
"As long as you are living under my roof, I will not have you look like a homeless person, understand? Get a haircut already!"
Rian should have paid more attention to his mother, but his daydreaming of those tormented years got him thinking. He glanced over at his mother who was wearing her usual ponytail he had gotten used to over the last few years. It was as long again as he remembered while growing up.
Instead of focussing on his mother’s haircut, Rian was better to care for his own appearance. Although he was not too moved by his mother’s speech. If he had time and felt like it he might go and get a tiny trim at the mall to get his mother off his back.
"It will blow over." Rian thought to himself.
Will Rian get it cut? Does his mother have to take matters into her own hands? Find out in part 2.