Coach’s MPB Fringe Falls Amid the Fun by Manny

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A continuing story. Previous chapters include:

Chapter 1 - Jack Opts for Change
Chapter 2 - Mr. B or Mr. Baldy
Chapter 3 - Rev. Battersea: Barber, Buddy or Both
Chapter 4 - Jeremy's Raven Locks Raise Funds

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Rev. Battersea blinked his eyes open. He was in an unfamiliar environment. His head ached. Then he realized he was lying on a couch and that his head was resting in someone's lap. Mr. B's lap!

He thought back to the evening before. Watching his hair tumble to the white barber cape in front of a huge audience. Mr. B had paid $500 for the fun of wielding the clippers. And, then, the follow-on session with the shaving cream and razor at Mr. B's place. His first-ever lather head shave! Rev. Battersea recalled the thrilling sensation of the razor being scraped across his stubbled scalp. How he enjoyed both divestitures! It was hard to decide which session was the most exciting -- the clipping of his thick, glossy mane to 1/50th of an inch, or the razor scraping his head clean.

Rev. Battersea touched his scalp. That smooth, bare feeling! He drank in the new sensation of being hairless. It was the first time in months he'd awakened without hair in his face.

How Mr. B and he had laughed when they posed for selfies with no hair -- just bare skin! Too much wine.

The fact that Mr. B was in love with him was a conundrum for Rev. Battersea. To complicate things, we repressed similar feelings -- no, he could not acknowledge those complicated feelings, not even to himself. For the moment, he basked in knowing that he'd fallen to sleep with his shaven head on Mr. B's lap. The tender caresses on his sensitive scalp had lined his pleasing path to dreamland.

Finally, he could no longer lay still. Rev. Battersea shifted ever so slightly so as to not wake Mr. B who looked so uncomfortable, asleep in a sitting position.

The slight movement was enough to waken his host.

"Good morning, friend!" Rev. Battersea whispered as Mr. B opened his eyes slowly.

Mr. B smiled. He had gotten Rev. Battersea to fall asleep with his head in his lap, stroking his bald head. His fingers began to again fondle the sensitive scalp.

"Do you like my hairless head?" Rev. Battersea asked.

"You had such beautiful hair," Mr. B said quietly. "Thick, silken, wavy locks that made you look so handsome and sexy."

"And now, what?" Rev. Battersea asked.

"Nothing at all up here but a vast white canvass of scalp!" Mr. B said, still fondling the barren head. He cracked a grin. "I'm having trouble recognizing you without that sexy mane."

Rev. Battersea got up and shuffled to the bathroom. He wanted to see himself again with no hair. The image in the mirror was a brutal shock. He looked awful with no hair!

The minister pondered his new look for a moment and felt his clean, bald head. It was awkward looking and would certainly elicit a lot of comments. Perhaps it wasn't so bad, but he definitely looked better with hair. And, long hair did make him look feel sexy. Being shaved down to zilch had exactly the opposite effect. The fact of the matter was that Rev. Battersea was totally fine not looking or feeling sexy! In fact, he rather enjoyed the miserable appearance and the vulnerable feelings that surrounded his shorn head.

Then Mr. B appear in the mirror behind him. Mr. B was also bald to the bone. They had exchanged favors wielding the razor the night before. But, Mr. B looked masculine and great with a chromedome!

"I wish I could keep the bald head," Rev. Battersea said.

"Why don't you?" Mr. B asked.

"Perhaps if I looked as handsome as you do, I would!" Rev. Battersea remarked.

"Are you flirting with me again?" Mr. B laughed.

Then Mr. B embraced him from behind, his body pressed close to Rev. Battersea's. The Reverend made no attempt to stop the affection or leave the bathroom.

Mr. B kissed his sensitive nape gently.

Rev. Battersea closed his eyes and allowed Mr. B to fan his inner feelings. Although he would love to surrender more than his hair to Mr. B, he could not. He had always been taught and believed those feelings were wrong, misguided. But, more importantly, he did not want to risk another awful loss of an intimate partner. The cancer tragedy his spouse endured devastated him and put him through a decade of turmoil. He had just regained his standing as a handsome, popular, widowed minister in a small, close-knit community. There was no way he would risk his stability -- especially for the sake of his beloved daughter, Natalie.

Finally, he decided to put an end to the romantic interlude. Rev. Battersea calmly asked, "Don't you have to go to school today? It's Wednesday, and not a holiday."

The remark was like a pan of icy water over Mr. B's head. "What time is it?! Good gracious! The pep rally! I need to be there!" Mr. B started an accelerated morning routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth.

"It's a good thing there's no hair to comb!" Rev. Battersea cracked.

In less than ten minutes, Mr. B was running out the door. "Grab yourself a cup of coffee -- bread for toast in the box on the counter."

Rev. Battersea had a leisurely start to his day, alone in Mr. B's small house. Strangely, he felt cozy and more at home at Mr. B's than at the parsonage.

While he had breakfast, he checked his email. A message labeled "Internship?" aroused his curiosity. It came from his seminary Alma Mater. A recently graduated Doctor of Divinity preparing for ordination was seeking time in a small town with an active, growing congregation. They had thought of Rev. Battersea.

He skimmed through the resume and personal statement, then did a quick Google search. Erik Swensen was a distinct name, easy to research. And, Rev. Battersea liked what he saw. Erik was more than just a handsome face. He had published interesting posts on a variety of theological and personal matters, was active in the social justice arena and in many ways seemed like a younger version of Rev. Battersea.

Except that he had hair, blond hair -- lots of it! Erik might make a good match for Mr. B! Yes, he would agree to the internship and hope that some chemistry developed between the two. If he couldn't have Mr. B for himself, he would make sure that someone of caliber gave the art teacher the love he needed and deserved. Rev. Battersea quickly emailed a reply that he would be "delighted" to host Erik for the six-month period.

After finishing his emails, Rev. Battersea's thoughts returned to his bare noggin. He scurried to the bathroom to get another full, intense look at it. When he snapped on the light, the sight was as a jarring as the first time he saw himself with no hair. Awful! His head looked like a lightbulb! He felt the smooth skin. Then took out a mirror to survey the back. His stylist at the executive salon would certainly shriek from fright! No more light trims, cooing over the luxurious feel of his wavy locks or warm blasts with the dryer.

Rev. Battersea spotted the razors and can of shaving cream. Why not?! He felt giddy as he soaked the hand towel in hot water and began preparing his scalp for another shaving. Once the skin was soft and supple, he applied the lather. The slight stubble that had developed over night was gently removed. He loved the head shaving routine. It felt both stimulating and relaxing at the same time. He could really get into tending to a chromedome and keeping it silken smooth.

He decided to rinse the lather off while taking a shower and unbuttoned his shirt. The dense, dark long pelt that covered his chest came into site. In a way, it was reassuring. The very furry body somehow compensated for the smooth head. And Rev. Battersea was quite buff. During his long period of emotional recovery, he'd spent many hours exercising in the gym as part of his therapy!

When Rev. Battersea emerged from the shower, he thought he heard someone in the house. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and went to check. There was Mr. B!

Mr. B's eyes opened wide as saucers to see the Rev. Battersea's sculpted body with nothing more than a towel covering his private area. The gorgeous hairy chest and legs! So muscular and fit!

"We were allowed to go home right after the pep rally, an early dismissal -- a reward for your scouts successful fundraising efforts. I hoped you'd still be here," Mr. B stammered.

In his own nervousness over the unexpected arrival of Mr. B, the reverend's grip on his towel slipped. The rattled Rev. Battersea lunged to stop it from totally revealing his private parts. But, to no avail. Mr. B was unexpectedly treated to a brief view of Rev. Battersea's handsomely endowed pecker.

"A body as beautiful as Michelangelo's David!" Mr. B gasped.

That was not the signal Rev. Battersea wanted to send. He quickly grabbed the towel and hustled into the bathroom. His heart pounded. He took his time getting dressed and getting his emotions under control. He would go out and act normally, as if nothing unusual had happened.

"So, tell me about the pep rally," Rev. Battersea asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"You can't imagine the high spirits everyone was in. Jeremy absolutely basked in the praise and adulation that his fundraising garnered. And, there was something different about him. I mean, apart from the shaved head. He was still outgoing and funny, but not in an arrogant or condescending manner. He came up to me and thanked me for the great idea. He loved it that we had twin chromedomes and took a few selfies of us," Mr. B recounted. "He told me how much he admires you and was sorry that you didn't come to the pep rally. He said you should have been on stage to be recognized for your hard work and sacrifice."

"By sacrifice, I supposed he meant this," Rev. Battersea said, rubbing his smooth head.

"There was a slide show and a fantastic picture of us. I've got your forelock in one hand and the clippers in the other. My face is eager, in an almost maniacal way. And your face is an obviously panned look of terror. Then there was a rapid succession of photos of the forelock being shaved off at the scalp, held up like a trophy and dumped onto the cape. Your hair looked amazing, both on and off your head!" Mr. B exclaimed.

"I kind of miss it," Rev. Battersea said.

"Oh, and after we left, there was a surprise head shave. COACH! After he’d wrapped up the fundraising head shave event, the shavees flocked back up onto stage to ‘thank’ him for emceeing. Then the swarmed around him and someone held up the clippers. He was a good sport about letting them shave off his pathetically thin wrap-around fringe. He actually looks a whole lot better with the chromedome," reported Mr. B.

"Well, while you were at school, I shaved my head again this morning myself and had a lot of fun doing it. But, I need to let my hair grow back so that I can sport a respectable executive coif, in line with my image as a serious pastor."

"Maybe we should both let our hair grow out," Mr. B suggest.

"I liked your butch length," Rev. Battersea commented. "Hey, changing the subject, I have a favor to ask of you. I'm going to be hosting a graduate from my Alma Mater for a six-month internship. He's finished his Divinity Doctorate. Erik is his name; he'll stay with Natalie and me in parsonage. But, I don't want to be responsible for his social life. Could you help me by showing him around -- inviting him to an event or two, just to help him make connections in the community?"

"Sure, if you'll do me a favor," Mr. B replied.

"Of course, whatever you need," Rev. Battersea said.

"I'd like to paint you. You'd pose as a live model once a week," Mr. B said.

"Like studying at my desk, or how?" Rev. Battersea asked.

"No, it would be here, actually in the living room. You would be lying on my couch. A very relaxing way to pose, I might add. Reclined on the couch, naked," Mr. B said without any hint of humor or emotion.

"Naked?!" Rev. Battersea exclaimed.

"That right. You have a beautiful body. You are a beautiful person, inside and out, and I would consider it a privilege to capture the essence of Bill Battersea on canvass," Mr. B said.

"I guess I feel flattered," Rev. Battersea sputtered, not knowing how to react.

Mr. B continued in his business tone, "I would also ask that your head be kept shaved for the a month while I work on the painting. I like how the smooth head contrasts with the hairy body. Four sittings. I am a professional artist. Please don't think that there will be any sexual energy when I am concentrating on my work, Bill."

"Deal, if during that same period you take Erik out once a week -- four dates," Rev. Battersea said, his upbeat tone masking the nervousness he felt about reclining in the nude each week for Mr. B to gaze at and transfer to canvass. On the other hand, he felt slightly excited that he'd committed to another month with a shaved head. Then, of course, during those four dates he hoped Erik and Mr. B would become close friends -- and, just maybe, very intimate friends!

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