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One or Both at Dave's Barber Shop? by Manny



It was just a short phrase, but suddenly my heart was pounding wildly. The faint grin, possibly a quick wink....and then that deep, melodious greeting, "Good morning, friend."

I had seen him from a bit of a distance, standing beneath the twirling barber pole. The white tunic hugging his perfectly sculpted body -- broad shoulders, muscular arms, chiseled chest, tight ass -- leaning against the building, one foot planted on the ground and the other doubled back casually, relaxed, resting on the wall.

As I drew nearer and saw his handsome face, our eyes locked momentarily. Without thinking, I had greeted him as a bit of an impulsive after-thought, "Hi, there..."

He was obviously the barber, taking a break. My eyes darted toward the neon-bathed interior. Empty. I wanted to stop and chat, but hustled on quickly.

As distance with the handsome barber developed, I tried to recreate the scene in my mind. What color were his eyes? I hadn't taken note. But his hair...oh, that was easy to remember...shorn down extremely close, like a soldier. The sides were bare and the top had a tidy, clipped pelt of sandy brown with a bit of a tuft for fringe. He exuded manliness.

What had he thought of me? Probably nothing at all. Although, the way his eyes locked onto me and followed me carefully as I approached.... What would a barber be interested in?

The penny dropped...my hair! I ran my fingers back through my dense mane of shoulder-length blond hair. It certainly attracted attention, but mainly from women. "Such sexy hair! Like the cover of a romance cover...." they would pant. I was proud of it too. The sheen and natural highlights. Obviously, at times, the long hair was a real drag. When it was hot, when it was windy, when I felt stereo-typed or judged.... And also, when I saw a handsome man with incredibly short hair, I felt an urge to have it all chopped off! A brutal transformation, from pretty boy to marine! The urge, though, was always extremely fleeting. More of a whim than a real desire.

I stopped walking. I was just a block and a half away. I wondered if the barber was still on his break, out in front of his shop. Would it seem too awkward....if I retraced my steps....walked back past the shop? Perhaps, if he was still outside, we could pick up our conversation. Comment on the humidity....or if it would rain? He would invite me in for a haircut....and I would go!

I slowly turned around. The sidewalk was public. Why should I feel odd or hesitate? Just walk back, stroll past the shop. What would I have to lose, five minutes of my day? And what might I gain?!

At first, my gait was slow. But then, the excitement made me pick up the pace. I rounded the corner....there was the twirling red and white pole....but no barber out in front. Now what? I wanted to see him again. Nothing would detain me. I hurried toward the barber shop.

As, I came up almost even with the large plate window and peered inside, I caught a glimpse of the white tunic. The barber was shaking open a huge white cape. He looked like an Olympian athlete as he cast it. The cape sailed through the air with dramatic flair.

My pace slowed to almost a complete pause as I watched the barber. He glanced at me as he pulled the cape tight around the client's neck. A middle-aged man with a business cut was in the chair.

I quickly diverted my gaze and walked on, feeling idiotic....like a voyeur who had been caught peeping where he shouldn't. I glanced back at the neon sign that hung over the sidewalk. Dave's Barber Shop - tel. 283-9284.

There was a small coffee shop on the corner. I decided to stop. Collect my thoughts. Put my fantasy of a torrid love affair with the handsome barber behind me, or plot a way to move it towards a possibility.

I collected my jelly donut and coffee and took a seat in the corner, behind a mirrored pillar. As I sipped, I studied my hair. Definitely, the coif was no barber shop creation. I had just had a precision trim and it looked fantastic!

I thought back to my trip to the salon a few days earlier. "I was hoping you'd let my take it shorter," the stylist had intoned after I requested "just a trim."

"Shorter?" I stammered, giving me time to consider her suggestion.

"Yes, a summer crop," she replied. "A chin length bob would suit you. They are quite trendy now, for guys. Five inches off the back?" She pressed the blade of the shears to where she would take it. "And, perhaps a bit of an undercut with an exposed, clipped nape?"

"Do you have any photos?" I asked, considering the bob. It would be great to have that heavy, thick hair off my neck for a change.

The first photo she showed was a HUGE turn-off. The man looked so effeminate with the perky bob! His pretty hair was parted in the center, puffed out and curled under. But the clipped nape in back perked my interest...I couldn't even remember the last time I had electric clippers taken to my hair.

"Oh, no. That's not for me. Just a trim!" I insisted. And she complied.

As I munched on my donut, I took out my phone and googled Dave's Barber Shop on West Walnut. Several good reviews -- mainly just 4- or 5-star ratings. A few brief comments like, "good barber" or "great haircut" or "value for money" or "shop in a time warp". The phone number came up, as well.

I impulsively hit the link and suddenly the phone was ringing! What would I say?!

"Dave's Barber Shop," came his unmistakable voice!

My throat was parched and my lips dry. What to say?! "Hi, there... Uh, are you open late this evening?"

"No, friend, the shop closes at 5:00. On Thursdays, I'm open until 7:00, if that suits you," he replied.

"Thank you," I replied quickly and hung up. My heart was definitely pounding! Somehow, I felt certain I would be having the hair cut off my neck after all. But, by Dave, not my normal stylist at the salon! The brief chat made me certain. I stared at myself in the mirrored pillar. I wanted Dave to have a go at, to have his way with my shoulder-length locks.

I read a few more website reviews on Dave's Barber Shop and was just downing the last sips of coffee when my phone text notification sounded.

It was the number that I'd just called. It was Dave texting me. "Hi there...." He used my typical greeting!!

A second text flashed up in rapid succession.

"Are you the fellow with long blond hair that walked by the shop about 20 minutes ago?" Dave asked.

My hands trembled. "Yes," I confessed.

"Just to let you know, I'm free. If you're still in the neighborhood, come on back. Your hair needs a good barber. Dave is waiting for you!" Then he sent me a haircut emoji with a huge set of shears lopping off a massive forelock.

The trembling in my hands intensified. "Great! I'm needing it cut short," I tapped out furiously. "I can be there in about five minutes." After I hit the send button, I felt a jolt of excitement and anxiety. To be in Dave's care! To lose my pampered hair...would he take me down to his length?

I couldn't finish the remnant of my donut due to the excitement I felt, so I found the bathroom to wash my hands. As I rinsed off the powdered sugar, I studied my thick, attractive hair. My fleeting fantasy of "ultra-short" was beginning to appear an imminent reality. Right then and there I made up my mind that it would be "barber's choice," Dave's choice! And, I hoped he would scalp me!

My mind was in a blur as I walked down the sidewalk toward the shop. I paused momentarily at the door. Dave was standing inside, grinning, waiting....

I stepped in.

"You came!" he announced, stating the obvious.

My hands nervously plied through my copious locks. I felt tongue-tied in Dave's presence.

"I'm Barry," I finally croaked. I imagined what Dave would look like disrobed and felt a bulge. A perfectly sculpted Greek god with ultra-short hair, a real man's haircut.

He indicated what chair I was to take by putting his hand on it and nodding in a business-like manner. As I eased into the soft, red leather, I looked at myself in the mirror. I would be a whole different person when I emerged from Dave's chair.

Dave studied my hair momentarily and then gently grasped a copious shank of it that hung from my nape. "Nice, very nice," he purred.

I sat there, immobilized by his unexpected caress. I felt so submissive and willing. He could shave me bald, for all I cared.

"This is exactly the kind of hair I like to get my hands on," Dave said in a soft, warm tone. "When I saw you walking down the sidewalk earlier, I was hoping upon hope that my shop was your destination. But...."

"I wanted YOU to be my destination," I confessed spontaneously. An ardent blush revealed my secret thoughts.

Dave suddenly released the lock he was fondling and reached for the cape.

There was an awkward silence.

He mechanically went through his routine of affixing the tissue strip, casting the sail-like white cape and securing it with the large metal clip.

Then he took a brush and began plying it straight back through my locks. I closed my eyes and imaged us in an intimate setting. Suddenly, it was interrupted by a startling vision of Dave bring his large pulsating machine towards me. The authoritarian metal teeth were millimeters from my virgin locks. My pampered tresses surrendered to his authority...

He spoke, and I was instantly out of my fantasy. "So, what will it be for you today?" he asked in a routine, barber-like way.

I swallowed. "You decide. You're the professional. What would suit me?"

Dave grinned. "I'm liking this more and more! Barber's choice, for real? I should warn you, I cut my teeth on the military base nearby. It's where I first discovered I liked relieving pretty boys of their precious tresses."

Then he again started fondling my hair again, gently, "Locks like these....soft and obviously very well cared for....and oh, so vulnerable as they tumbled in sheaves to my feet. The Nervous Nellies trying to act like they didn't mind the humiliation....the instinctive urge to feel the stubble after the cape came off. Sweeping up the huge piles of cut hair at the end of the day."

He stood there, staring at me, as if expecting a reaction.

"You want to give me an induction cut?" I stammered awkwardly.

"You did say barber's choice," Dave said with a taunting grin.

"If that will please you...." I replied demurely with a coy grin. The idea of sacrificing all my hair to please Dave appealed to me. I was ready to let it all go.

Then came an unexpected jolt. "I'm already in a relationship, Barry. Are you here for a makeover or to spice up your love life?" While his words seemed to be discouraging, the way he rested his hand on my shoulder and then began to caress my hair gave me a glimmer of hope. Yes, I could woo him!

"Both," I said firmly, staring directly at him.

Suddenly Dave took the shears and comb out of his tunic's chest pocket. He snapped the barber scissors open and shut a few times. "You'll get one of those, for sure. The makeover! And...."

"...maybe the other?" I asked hopefully.

Dave got a twinkle in his eye. "Maybe. Maybe, if you're good in the chair, no fussing or squirming...and no other client comes in....I might have a little treat for you in the private area behind the curtain there after I finish your haircut."

Then, without another word, he combed my forelock straight down over my face. I was veiled by a thick, shiny mass of blond hair. I was left to my fantasy of what might happen in that little private room.

Dave slipped the shears behind the shimmering cascade of pampered hair and began snipping it off near the top of my forehead. The slow, deliberate, authoritative snips sent my hair falling to the cape. As the shears progressed across the top of my forehead, I watched more and more of the blond locks collect on the cape.

"Love to do that!" Dave squealed in a most unmanly, giddy-like manner. "Snip off long fringe and watch it collect on the cape."

My bangs had never been chopped off so short! Just little tuft-like sprouts remained.

Then he forcefully bowed my head with one hand and began whacking off the length in back. The crunching sound of the scissors cutting through the dense hair filled the barber shop.

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH.

The cold blade was right at the nape.

I heard him groan softly as he continued to butcher my beautiful hair. He was definitely getting what he wanted from me....but would I get what I wanted from him?!

He kept my head bowed low as he swapped the shears for a set of clippers. "Ready, recruit?" he asked.

Recruit?! Oh, he was serious about giving me an induction cut! I wanted to blurt out an objection but remembered his admonishment against fussing and squirming. I decided instead to enjoy and savor the experience. It would probably be a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.

The metal teeth on my nape almost made me jump.

"Steady," Dave admonished.

Up, up, up, tight against the scalp, they climbed. All the way up through the crown.

"I'll be ankle deep in hair by the time I'm finished," Dave purred with an unmistakable excitement.

I continued being very submissive. I wanted my reward in the private back room. My beautiful hair giving way to the clippers...I was glad that I was willing to shed it. I was putty in Barber Dave's hands.

"Barry, you won't recognize yourself when I finished with you," Dave murmured as the clippers began clearing away the growth from the side of my head.

I watched the transformation with one eye and handsome Dave with the other. "You have such skill with your hands.... I'll bet you also are quite skilled...."

But, before I could finish my thought, Dave wrenched my head to the other side and began tackling the remnants of my flowing mane.

"Quiet in the chair," he hissed.

Then he took the shears and began lopping off the hair on top, about an inch from the scalp. He enjoyed chopping away immensely. The cape was virtually covered with my cut hair and glimmered like a lady's golden evening stole.

Dave used a brush to make the short hair stand up erect. I was getting a flattop! My eyes twinkled with delight.

Dave was all concentration as he began taking the top down, shorter and shorter with each swipe. "First time flat?" he asked as my new look took shape.

"Yep," I whispered back.

"Like what you see?" he asked.

"Sure do," I replied.

"So do I," Dave confessed as his hand came up the back against the grain and then dawdled in my soft, lush pelt on top.

My heart raced. He was warming to fulfilling both of my requests!

"I can't tell you what a treat you've provided for me today," Dave said as he put the finishing touches on my new, deep pile flattop with a few random snips.

"I've been good in the chair? And, I hope that...." I began to say as the door to the shop opened.

A commanding voice boomed, "Dave! How are you? And what have we go going on in here? Bootcamp?"

Dave and I both turned to see the man who interrupted our intimacy.

"Charles, it's been a while! Glad to see you back. That thatch of yours...." Dave commented.

"Thatch?!" Charles walked right up to us and preened in the mirror. "My natural waves get lots of compliments. Pretty nice hair for a man in his prime, I'd say!" Charles rather enjoyed complimenting himself.

He was dressed in business attire. A suit with an open dress shirt. And, I had to admit that he did have quite nice hair. Perhaps a bit overgrown, but thick and full and wavy, with lots of sheen. The forelock was swept into an elaborate quiff.

"When are you going to let me take you down to this length?" Dave asked putting a bit of butch wax in my hair and sculpting an immaculate flattop.

Charles examined me. "If it would make me look half as handsome and macho as this young man, I just might let you," he purred.

I blushed. Charles was quite charismatic.

"What do you say, young man? Should I go for a flattop like yours?" he asked, staring directly at me with an intent gaze.

I stammered, "Well, I think...."

"Yes, you should!" Dave interrupted, making sure Charles got more encouragement to have his waves shorn off.

Charles gazed at himself again in the mirror. He picked up a brush and began styling his own hair, giving even more flair to his showy quiff. "Like I've said before, I'm not sure the flattop would be right for my office. I handle civil cases in my practice, not court martials! Although, Kevin Bacon in 'Top Gun' had a wonderful haircut. But, I'd miss brushing these marvelous waves each morning...."

Dave unfastened the metal clip and carefully lifted away the hair ladened cape. "There you go, Barry. A new look! I bet you feel like a new man!"

I did look AND feel like a new man. A more macho, manly man! The flattop plied with butch wax standing erect was so different that the soft lustrous waves cascading down past my shoulders.

I stood and caught a glimpse of all the hair on the floor. My hair! I shuffled about awkwardly. What about my treat in the back room?

"You were going to show me something in back, Dave," I said, trying not to sound too desperate or bossy.

"Oh, that's right. Take a seat Charles. I'll be right back," Dave said.

We both slipped behind the curtain. Dave whispered, "Sorry, Barry, it wasn't meant to be. I'm in a relationship, like I told you."

I could not conceal my disappointment or crestfallen countenance.

"Just one kiss?" I nearly begged. I had sacrificed all my long hair for him....

Dave smiled. "Sure," he said before giving me a peck on the lips. It was over almost as suddenly as it began.

"By the way, I think Charles took a fancy to you. He's between relationships. Super loaded too. Why don't you go out there and chat him up a bit? See if you can talk him into a flattop. I'd enjoy taking him down....!"

Charles and me? He was at least 10-15 years older! But, handsome and obviously well off financially...

I stepped out into the shop. The sheaves of cut hair -- my former flowing tressess -- around the base of the chair looked amazing. So did Charles. Cocky Charles! Vain Charles! Charismatic Charles! Confident Charles!

I strode up to him boldly. "Dave will be right out. He got a call back there. An eldercare issue, I think."

I took the cape and did my best at playing barber. I lingered with the tissue as his glossy hair brushed my hand. I rather enjoyed caping him up.

Charles studied me as I secured the big metal clip in place. Much more than a once-over.

But the cape transformed the dynamic. The expensive suit was covered up. He was vulnerable in the chair....and I was the authoritarian barber. Shears and clippers were at my command.

Then, I did it. I began to play with his wonderful wavy hair. He didn't object, and was most submissive and responsive to my attention.

"You do have amazing hair, Charles. So did I. But, I decided to go for a radical change. I think you would look extremely handsome with a flattop like mine. Even more handsome than you already are. A flattop would give you a more youthful look too. Like we could be brothers...." I suggested.

"Or lovers?" Charles quipped.

"Or lovers!" I affirmed. "I'm not necessarily looking for a father figure, but I do enjoy an authority figure when I'm in a serious relationship."

"A flattop might make give me an early-1960s feeling. Back when frisky, defiant lads still got taken to the woodshed," he purred. "And don't think you're too old for some OTK action."

"OTK?" I asked as I took ahold of his quiff and plied the silken strands through my fingers.

"Over the knee. You'll need the paddle of discipline if you take those shears to my quiff and chop it off!" he said, almost inviting me to do it to him.

The thought of being turned over Charles' knee and on the receiving end of a paddle suddenly excited me in a visible manner.

I reached for the shears. He had as much dared me to do it.

Charles looked on in a bit of excited horror.

I stretched the prime lock of wavy hair out to its fulsome length and poised the shears menacingly.

"You will look amazing with a flattop," I said defiantly as I brought the shear down near the base of the lock.

At first, I thought I was just teasing him, playing with his emotions. Like, I would never do such a thing.

But seeing Charles so submissive and in a state of anxious dread....I could almost hear his heart pound.

And, then I did it!

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! I chopped off his forelock! Held it momentarily in the air, as we both processed what had just happened, and then I ceremoniously let it fall into his lap. I felt hard as a baseball bat. I was definitely in contol and loved the feeling. The flattop had unleashed something new in me.

Charles was speechless. Just staring helplessly at the tuft of short hair where the once mighty lock had been anchored to his handsome face.

Defiantly, I took another prime lock and sliced it off, doubling the amount of cut hair in his lap.

At that moment, Dave strode into the shop.

"Look what he did!" Charles stammered.

"Then, a flattop it will be. FINALLY! Your first flattop, Charles! Oh, and Barry didn't leave too much here for me to work with. It's going to be a very short, military length!" Dave said gleefully.

"Landing strip?" Charles croaked.

"SHOE HIM!" I ordered, with surging authority in my voice.

Oh yes, there would be paddle action, but with dear Charles over my knee, his lovely Canali slacks around his ankles as he braced to be on the receiving end for a change.

Dave fired off a quick salute to me and pushed Charles head down. The balding clippers began stripping away his luxuriant wavy growth.

Then it occurred to me that Dave had delivered both....a makeover and a new romantic interest!





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