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Michael's flat top by Paul Haberman



As Micheal approached the stool, adrenaline began to rush through his veins. Khloe had never cut his hair before. He was hoping that Khloe could cut it the way he wanted it. Topically, his mother took him to chain haircutting places. He never left with it exactly how he wanted it.

He was currently sporting a shaggy mop on his head. It had been 8 weeks since his last haircut. The last woman who cut it, left it way to long. She refused to use less than two guard on his sides and back. Despite him telling her that he wanted a 000 on the sides and back.

He hoped Khloe could be his forever barberette, but he feared with her only being 20 years old she lacked the experience to do a good flat top haircut. Khloe was wearing a pair of light colored blue jeans and white top, as he walked towards the stool. She was also wearing a chin length, dark brown, wig. If he hadn't recently seen her with her wig off, he would have swore it was her nature hair.

When butt is sitting on the stool, she flashed a smile. She was by no means slender, but she was not grossly over weight. His brother liked "thicker" girls. Khloe was definitely a "thicker" girl. Michael instantly got an instant hard-on, as he also liked "thicker" woman. For some reason, he was turned on by the fact that he was about to get a haircut from his older brother girlfriend.

As she caped him a striped cape, he knew he would have to play it cool. The cape was resting on his shoulders, as he told him it was just like any other haircut. When the tissue paper got put tightly around his neck, he told himself he was just another head of hair to Khloe. In reality, he knew Khloe was in love with his 21 year brother.

Once he was caped, she said "how do you want me to cut it". Khloe didn't really want to cut Michael's hair, because he always complained about every haircut he got. However, she felt like she was up to the task. As she prepared mentally to do the cut, he said "short sides and back". With out even thinking about it, she said "I can clip the sides and back with out a guard on the clippers".

Michael became disappointed, when he heard that. His idea of ​​short sides and back, was the barberette putting shave cream on him and shaving with a straight razor. He wanted to ask her to do that to him, but he feared she would say "no". Only one barberette ever agreed to do that to him. The barberette that did that to him, was Taylor Edwards. She was the only person that cut his hair the exact way he wanted it.

As he began thinking about all the wonderful haircuts he got from Taylor, as Khloe said "how do you want the top". With out even thinking about it, he said "just like Brantley's". Michael said what Khloe feared he would say. He wanted his haircut just like his brother's haircut. At this point, she just wanted to take the cape off him, and give him a ride to Taylor's shop. Taylor was the one who cut his brother's hair.

If the all Parker men had one thing in common, it was their love of haircuts from Taylor Edwards. Once she got them in her chair, they were hooked for life. Khloe was starting to panic, as she started thinking about all the times she cut Brantley's hair. None of the haircuts we're good enough, and he would often go off to Taylor's shop immediately for a "correction cut".

At this point, Khloe wasn't sure what she should do. She knew that his mom and Taylor had a falling out. It would be an issue, if she gave him a ride their. If she took the cape off him, it would get around the complex that she did that. He was lined up to get a haircut from a different lady, the next day. In an effort to break the silence, she said "it sounds like you want a flat top".

Michael just wanted to get the cut started. There was no reason for all this talk. She had known the family for years, and she had heard him complain that other barberettes hadn't given him the cut he wanted. At this point, he assumed she was doing all this, because she knew she couldn't met his wants. In an effort to give the out, Michael said "my mom set something up for tomorrow. It would be rude of me to blow that opportunity off".

Khloe left like a huge weight just come off her shoulders, when Micheal said that. Just as she was about to take the cape off him, Shannon said "don't be silly, Michael". She made eye to eye contact with Khloe, and then said "you feel comfortable doing the cut, right." At this point, Khloe thought honest was going to be the best policy.Before their eye to eye contact was broke, she said "Flattops are not my specialty".

Before khloe could remove the cape, Shannon said "the only way you are going to get better at them, is to practice doing them". At this point, Khloe wondered why she needed to get better at them. She wasn't a barberette. She worked for JD tire and wheel, as source of income. She had haircutting items in her apartment, because she would help out her friends. Before she could say something to Shannon to get out of this, Shannon said "if the cut doesn't work out. The lady can fix it, tomorrow".

At this point, Micheal didn't want Khloe to feel like she had to do the haircut. As she applied a few drops of oil to the blades of her clippers, he said "I can just wait till, tomorrow". Her way of responding to what he said, was clipping her clippers on. The high-pitched whine was music his ears. His pulse began to race, as he prepared to get a haircut from this brother's girlfriend.

He struggled to remain composed. He no longer felt like it would be as atisfactory haircut. He was excited about his brother's girlfriend running her clippers on him. With out any warning, she pushed his head down. She began working on his nape first. The clippers quicky peeled the into overgrow hair from his last unsatisfctory haircut. As she ran the clippers up his nape, she hoped he really wanted there to be just stubble.

As she tried to efficient, as she wondered if Michael would like the side shaved with the razor. If she did that, it wouldn't feel like sandpaper. Khloe didn't want to give Michael another disappointing hair, so she tried to stay focused. Normally, Khloe was very talkative during haircuts. During Michael's cut there was no talking. She hoped he understood why she wasn't talking. She wasn't smoking, either. Topically, she enjoyed a cigarette well doing a haircut.

Once she finished the nape, she moved to the right side. In Micheal's mind, nothing out of the ordinary was happening. The chain places that his mother would take him to didn't allow smoking. Topically, the person cutting his didn't say much to him. They were focused on him done as quick as possible. In their minds, he was just a dumb 12 year old kid. They really didn't care if he liked or not. The only barberette that ever treated him with was Taylor.

She began below his ear, shearing away his sideburn . When she got midway up the side, she removed the guard. She continued to expertly guiding the blades . Khloe was now to the point she feared. It was now time to create the two vertical walls. This was the part were Brantley always claimed she messed up. She tired to the right one first. When she finished it, she thought it looked good. She started the left on with a little more confidence. When she completed the left side wall, she was pretty satisfied with her work.

Creating 2 that atleast looked decent gave Khloe alot of confidence going into the top. She knew nailing the top was crucial. If she couldn't get it perfectly level, she failed. she remembered Michael complainting that the top was not perfectly level in the past. There is no mirror, so Micheal doesn't know how good or bad the haircut is. His heart is pounding, as he knows what time it is.

His cock begans to throb, as Khloe begins to get his hair wet. She sprays mists of water over his head. Before his hair dries, she used a brush to forces the damp hair to stand up. At this point, it is go time. She takes a deep breath, and then said "look down at me". He did what say, as she moved closer to him. She lend in, and prepared to do the top. Michael was ready to blow his load.

The clippers were in her right hand, and a comb was in her left. Khloe began trimming the top hair. His cock grows harder, as Khloe guided the clippers from the front to the back. She wasted no time, and immediately began the second pass. She made her third pass, thinking she delivered a good haircut. after she made the third pass over the top, she said "go in the bathroom, and check it out".

Once he got up from stool, she picked up her pack of cigarettes. She pulled out a cigarette, as she hoped he liked it. Just as put up to her lips, he said "you nailed it". When she heard that, she put the cigarette and lighter down on the counter. He quickly walked out the bathroom. Just before he sat down on the stool, he said "thank you". As she removed the cape, she said "I'm glad you liked it". He was standing up on feet, when he said "would you be interested in being my barberette". She was picking up her cigarette and lighter, as she said "yes".



making another pass, shearing the top closer still. I pray she will continue. Silently I beg her to keep cutting until nothing remains.

At last she steps back. Now I can view my new image in the mirror. "What do you think? This what you had in mind? " she asks.

I stare straight ahead. Clumps of severed hair litter my shoulders and pile in my lap. The visage staring back at me is familiar, yet wonderfully different. My hair is much shorter and standing straight up; flat across the top; squared off on the sides just as I ordered. It's an old-school look. I resemble the old Baltimore Colts quarterback, Johnny Unitas, or maybe a military man. You don't see many civilians with a cut like this now days, but I don't care.

Kristin gets it; she totally understands where I needed to go.

But I'm not ready for her to stop; I want to extend my pleasure as long as possible. I pretend it's still too long. "You could take it shorter," I suggest hopefully. It's not an order, more like a prayer, a heartfelt plea, imploring her to continue fulfilling my fantasy.

"Yeah, that would be good," she agrees. There's not a moment of indecision; not the slightest hesitation. It's almost like she's been waiting for me to speak up. She's absolutely passed the test.

Her clippers are buzzing once more. She's standing at my side. Without being told I obediently turn toward her. All I see is green cloth as she resumes cropping the top of my head. She's put the comb aside; she's working freehand now, without a safety net. The slightest slip and the look will be ruined, but Kristin never falters. The pulsating blades lightly skim the surface of my upright hair. Slowly, methodically, she removes another fraction of an inch. There's no more than a quarter inch left. It's shorter than in the picture I chose, but I don't care. Don't want her to stop. I'm in ecstasy, coming dangerously close to a climax.

Finally, she pauses, invites me to inspect her creation again. I gaze into the mirror. My eyes lock on the top of my head. Each hair is standing erect — an inch high in front; shorter toward the crown. Squared off and perfectly flat, just like I asked her to do.

It's the look I've been searching for; the one I've dreamed about late at night. A dozen barbers have tried and failed. Kristin is the first to get it right.

I restrain the impulse to reach up and stroke the pristine velvet layer covering my head. Other people are watching. A young mother waits with a curly-headed daughter and a shaggy-haired son. She's been observing my haircut. Can't let her see how turned on I am. Got to pretend this haircut is an everyday event.

Kristin awaits my verdict. Trying to sound nonchalant, I say, "Yeah, that looks good." It's a huge understatement of course. I feel like shouting, "It’s perfect! You're a genius! " but stifle the urge.

"I can take it shorter if you like," she offers.

"Not today," I tell her, hinting I may go shorter in the future; maybe try for a high and tight with a landing strip. Perhaps next time or the time after, but not now. This is enough excitement for one day.

Kristin powers her clippers one more time. Without hurrying, she returns to trimming the sides. They look okay, but she's not satisfied. Now the changes are almost imperceptible, but I'm not going to complain.

Then she goes back to the top, peers at the shortened surface, and makes a few minor adjustments. She's a perfectionist and I'm happy to be her victim. Blissful moments of fine-tuning pass before she's finally satisfied. Resting her clippers, she selects a jar from a cabinet beneath the mirror. It's the butch wax I remember from my youth. The ideal finishing touch.

Kristin rubs two fingers of paste in her hands and massages it into my scalp. Then she attacks with her brush until every hair is back in place. "That will keep it looking sharp," she announces. I make a mental note to stop and buy some on my way home.

Max has finished with his customer. The young mother leads her son to his empty chair. She smiles in my direction; the barber glances over. "Cut Tommy's hair just like she did for that gentleman," she instructs him. She obviously likes the way I look. I've never felt so great. I'd love to stay and watch the boy's haircut, but that would be too conspicuous.

Kristin releases the cape; removes the tissue; and prepares to shave my neck. "Squared or tapered?" she asks. In the past I always said tapered, but today it has to be square to complement the sharp angles on top. She applies the warm lather and plies her razor with the same skill she displayed clipping the top. A brief massage with a splash of bay rum is the finishing touch. The haircut is done. My flat top is complete.

Stepping down from the chair, I struggle to hide the bulge in my pants.

Fourteen dollars is th memories of this perfect haircut







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