Derek attracts Dr. Bruce's attention by Manny

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To say Derek was a bit nervous as he prepared to leave Mama Lakshmi's for college classes was an understatement. He fidgeted with his food, unable to eat much.

"Your shower this morning was under four minutes, Derek," Mama Lakshmi said. "I do hope you keep this smooth!" Her hand stroked Derek's bald head. A faint feel of stubble had emerged since his tonsure by a ritual barber over the weekend, in the park.

What he worried about most, however, was not his lack of head hair, but his lack of eyebrows.

"Do you think I should pencil in some brows?" he asked Mama Lakshmi. "Perhaps you have an eyebrow pencil I could use."

"Like you are a girl?! Nonsense! People will respect you for submitting to a full tonsure," she clucked.

Derek reluctantly dragged himself off to the university. His courses were mainly attended by expatriates -- even the faculty in his program were expats.

His first session was with one of his favorite professors, an anthropologist, Dr. David Bruce. Dr. Bruce was a young prof, in his thirties and very handsome. Derek had always sat in the front row, gazing into his deep blue eyes. Dr. Bruce had light brown hair that was quite shaggy, and he sported a dense and overgrown beard. He combined the ruggedness of an alpha-type lumberjack with the wit of a scholarly professor who enjoyed engaging with students and charming them.

When Derek entered the class, he was surprised to see Dr. Bruce quite altered. His hair had been cut into a very precise taper -- expertly clipped around the ears and at the nape -- a low and tight. The top was swept up and back in a full, elaborate quiff, kept in place with some styling mouse or layrite gel. Furthermore, his beard had been cropped close to his face and fashioned into a stylish goatee. Dr. Bruce was wearing a three-piece suit of light-weight worsted wool with a colorful coordinate tie and pocket kerchief. In short, he seemed as if he was about to dash off to an embassy reception!

Derek found himself staring at Dr. Bruce, and the charismatic professor returned the intense gaze.

"So, it seems as we both got groomed this weekend, although by different barbers," Dr. Bruce said with a tone of mirth.

Derek felt very conscious about his smooth, bald head and touched the scalp nervously.

"I like your new look, Dr. Bruce," he stammered.

"And you've received a full tonsure. I didn't know you were Hindu, Derek," the prof said.

"I'm not," Derek replied. "It's just that...."

Derek paused and shuffled about, visibly reluctant to explain.

"....that you were curious?" the prof asked. "I'm writing a book on pilgrimages....why people take them and how it changes them. Perhaps I could interview you?"

"Oh, I couldn't add much. My motivation was...." Derek paused. Did he really want to say that it had all transpired in the quest of a viral TikTok post?

Dr. Bruce continued to stare at Derek, waiting to hear what the motivation had been.

Derek's mouth was dry; he felt very embarrassed and flushed.

After a momentary, awkward silence, the prof intervened. "Maybe it's something very intimate and isn't meant to be shared publicly in front of the others....or maybe it's so private you wouldn't care to share it at all," Dr. Bruce said, offering Derek a graceful exit from the conversation.

But the words "private" and "intimate" excited Derek.

"Perhaps if we were to go out for drinks after class? The Victorian Bar at the Grand Hotel mixes excellent gin and tonics," Derek suggested.

"It will be my treat. I'm quite curious to hear why someone without devotion would opt for a full tonsure. Even your eyebrows were shaved! And you had such beautiful, long blond hair!" Dr. Bruce exclaimed.

Those words were like a knife stabbing poor Derek. His shoulder-length wavy hair was a fragment of a memory, last seen strewn about the feet of the ritual barber in the central park.

"And while we're having drinks, you can tell me why you've had your hair cut into a conservative style and are dressed to the nines. It looks like you expect to greet the Prince of Wales, sir," Derek noted with a laugh.

Dr. Bruce stepped close toward Derek and placed his hand on his shoulder. "5 pm then, the bar at the Grand Hotel!" Then he gave his student more than a brief caress on his shaven head. "I'll tell you the full story....and more!" he quipped as he strolled away and headed to the lectern to start class.

Derek was anxious all day long, itching for 5 pm to arrive. His mind drifted into elaborate fantasies about what the "and more" might have meant. All day long, Derek thought about Dr. Bruce.

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When Derek arrived at the lounge, Dr. Bruce was already seated near a window at a table for two. The sun streamed in and intensified the glow emanating from his coiffed chestnut-colored hair. It also showcased his fiery auburn highlights. Derek felt a pang of remorse as he was reminded of his own baldness. To have hair that one could brush again and run their fingers through....

"Ah, Derek," the professor said, as he motioned for his student to sit.

"Am I late?" Derek asked, noting that Dr. Bruce already was sipping on a G&T.

"Nope. Quite punctual, actually. It's that I've been here for a while, trying to draft some points to make in my upcoming interview," he said.

"About the piece you're writing on pilgrimages?" Derek asked.

"No, about the job I'm applying for -- Dean of Academics for Study Abroad Programs, a very cushy and well-paying position. I interview via video with the committee back in New Haven at 9 pm -- the difference in time zones," he replied.

"That explains your makeover," Derek noted, eying the prof's new, showy coif.

Dr. Bruce touched his clipped nape. "It's so short back here," he murmured. "Quite a bit of hair came off. I haven't had a clipper cut in decades. I went to one of those trendy modern barbershops -- traditional, old-school look, but very edgy with tattooed barbers."

"It's an awesome haircut! I feel like I'm looking at a different person," Derek said.

"That's exactly what I was thinking when I first saw you today. Your bald head! And without eyebrows...." Dr. Bruce said with a slight smirk. "What possessed you if not devotion to some demanding deity?!"

"Quite the opposite, I imagine," Derek confessed. "Vanity, really. I wanted one of my TikTok videos to go viral and thought submitting to tonsure in front of the camera might do the trick."

"Quite ironic," Dr. Bruce laughed.

"But here's the real twist....as I was crouching and watching my locks fall to the sidewalk, I felt an overwhelming presence of something....like an inner cleansing was transpiring....the cut locks were symbols of folly and idleness....I emerged from the tonsure without any desire at all to post a viral videos or get lots of comments through shock value. Life had more meaning....I knew it and I felt it profoundly," Derek confessed.

"Beautifully said!" the professor replied in admiration. "Meaningful, thought provoking. I might have to work that soliloquoy into my piece on pilgrimages."

There was an awkward pause. Dr. Bruce sipped his gin and tonic. He signaled the waiter to bring Derek one.

"Life and its meaning," he finally said in a professorial, philosophical way. "What do I want? More money and a cushy job? Look at what I did to myself! Got all gussie up and paid a bundle for a hairstyle that's really not me. Is it slightly ridiculous?"

"Well, maybe the way it's piled up on top so high," Derek commented. "It seems a little too fussy and perhaps a bit ostentatious. I mean, you're a real person....not some sort of made-up doll."

"Totally agree. But, what was done can't be undone," the professor noted, again fondling his clipped nape.

"Unless you had it cut shorter -- or even shaved smooth like me!" Derek quipped.

"Actually, I was thinking about shorter when I plastered my hair into place this morning with the special pomade the trendy barber sold me -- have a few inches lopped off the top and have the sides and back clipped tighter. An easy 'wash and wear' haircut! The feel of the clippers yesterday was amazing. I'd sort of like to be back in the chair feeling them clip higher to the crown. Shoot, if I'm going for a traditional haircut look, it might as well be authentic and not some sort of poncy-posey bull-s**t look! You know, I was thinking about an authentic flattop -- the real thing. Even a faint landing strip!" Dr. Bruce exclaimed.

"I know the place to get one," Derek replied. "There's a street downtown that's lined with barbershops on both sides. One of them advertises as a flattop specialist. Seems like the barber was someone who had immigrated to the U.S. and then moved back to India. I saw a fellow walking out of the shop with an amazing flattop! Thick hair like yours and an amazing pile on top."

Dr. Bruce squirmed in his chair. "That sounds just what I want! Take me there!"

"Really?" Derek said. "Tomorrow after classes?"

"No, NOW!" Dr. Bruce took out his phone and fired off a text. "There! The job interview for the dean position is off. Our chat confirmed that I'm not interested in some sort of desk job, removed from students like you, Derek. And, I want to get rid of this silly coif asap!"

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The two men walked quickly down the sidewalk towards the area of town where the collection of barbershops was located.

Dr. Bruce seemed especially animated. "I've always been intrigued by flattops. My grandfather sported one for decades, even when they were definitely out of fashion. He said it was the perfect haircut for his line of work as a policeman on the beat."

As they approached the barbershops, Dr. Bruce's excitement intensified. "Which one does the flattops?" he asked, eager to shed his fussy coif.

"Over there, the StyleMan Barber Shop," Derek said pointing to a narrow shop that consisted of five barber chairs facing a mirrored wall, five youngish barbers wearing a mish-mash of white shirts or proper barber jackets, and a line of black plastic chairs for waiting clients. The shop's interior was brightened by ample strips of neon that bounced off the garish decorative touches which relied heavily on gilt and gold lamme.

The two men caused a bit of a stir as they entered and took seats in the waiting area. Dr. Bruce, in his three-piece suit, looked out of place. And, someone with no hair like Derek, could only be there to have his head re-shaved. The barbers worked very quickly, shearing their clients quite severely. Scissors were the instruments of choice -- such rapid motion with the snips! Lots of hair fell and the shop employed a boy to constantly push a broom through the tight squeeze of chairs, barbers and clients. A mound of cut black hair piled up near a large trash can. Curiously, the younger barbers had long, floppy hair from the 1980's. Only the older gent in the first chair sported a closely-clipped head.

Client-by-client, Dr. Bruce's turn to be called to the chair approached. Finally, the barber in the middle chair pointed to him and invited him to the chair.

"Are you the flattop specialist?" Dr. Bruce asked, as he stood.

The older barber with the clipped head interjected, "No, I am. You will wait for me. The bald boy can go next in Krish' chair."

Suddenly, Derek was on the spot. He had not intended to have his head re-shaved.

"Go for it!" Dr. Bruce encouraged. "If you don't have money, I'll spring for the shave. You have such a nice head shape!"

The compliment spurred Derek towards Krish' chair. Within seconds, the lavender-color cape was being secured about his neck and damp, warm towels were conditioning his scalp for a thorough head shave. Derek felt relaxed in the chair. Thinking about submitting to the razor gave him an overwhelmingly peaceful feel. He would enjoy the rhythmic scraping and stimulation of his exposed scalp. Dr. Bruce's compliment about his head shade resounded like an echo as he sat. Bliss, nirvana.

Meanwhile, the older barber had summonsed Dr. Bruce to the chair by the window.

The professor felt ecstatic as the cape was fastened tightly around the neck.

"So, a flattop?" the barber asked/stated. "They are not popular in India. But, I learned well in America."

He combed out the product as best he could. Dr. Bruce's hair was already almost erect on top, despite the length. It would not be hard to take him down and flatten him out.

"What length did you have in mind?" the barber asked.

Dr. Bruce had already given some thought to that matter and was quick with a specific instruction.

"A #1 up the back and sides -- a faint landing strip on top and beveled edges. No skin, just all stubble and short bristles," he said imaging himself emerging from the chair with a very crisp, short flattop.

No other clarification was sought. The barber reached for the shears. He snagged the massive forelock with a comb and whacked most of it off. Then he continued, lopping off the length on top. Large chunks of beautiful chestnut-colored hair with fiery auburn highlights fell to the cape. Five-inch locks began collecting in Dr. Bruce's lap. He squirmed in the chair, watching the transformation in the mirror. He felt good to be shedding the fussy coif.

LIFT AND CHOP, LIFT AND CHOP! The barber cleared off all the overgrowth on top. He was left with a short, textured look.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dr. Bruce could see Derek's head being scraped clean.

While he was trying to get a better view of Derek's shaving, Dr. Bruce felt his head being pushed forward. He heard the clippers roar to life! The faint burning smell that emanated from them excited him. It was the moment he had been waiting for -- clippers tight up the back to the crown. The last vestiges of his fussy look were coming off!

Dr. Bruce closed his eyes and reveled in his divestiture. The vibration on his scalp felt intoxicating! He could have sat there all day with his head bowed feeling the metal teeth chew off his hair close to the scalp. Over and over and over the barber ran the clippers up the back of his head, taking off every elusive strand to the same length -- super short!

When Dr. Bruce was allowed to sit up and watch the haircut in the mirror again, he liked the way things were progressing. So very short! Life would be so much easier without long hair or an elaborate hairstyle. Then he began thinking about his beard and mustache. Should both come off, or perhaps just the goatee?

At that point, the barber began to focus on flattening the top. His concentration was intense. The first drive with the clippers chewed off over half of the length.

Dr. Bruce's stomach churned. My, he was cutting it short!! And that was just the first drive. The second drive took it even shorter! He had to speak before it was too late.

"Not so short on top," Dr. Bruce said nervously.

"You said you wanted a landing strip," the barber retorted.

Then there was no doubt about who was in control. A third swipe had Dr. Bruce almost jumping out of the chair. The barber thrust the clippers toward his short hair. A large bald spot appeared! The grazing of the clippers down the top of his head sent a jolt of energy throughout this body. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly and stared in shock at the massive strip on top.

"No extra charge for a big landing strip," the barber said with a tone of levity. Dr. Bruce had been shown who was the boss in the shop!

But the haircut was far from over. The clipping and snipping continued unabated.

"Are you sure #1 on the sides? Perhaps a #0 is better? At least half way up," the barber suggested.

'Why not?' Dr. Bruce thought to himself.

"Okay, and take off the goatee, but leave the mustache," he instructed the barber.

Finally his transformation was over. Mounds of cut hair had piled upon the cape. The best part of his new look was the luxurious chevron-shaped mustache. Probably the longest hair on his head. Dr. Bruce hadn't seen himself without a beard in almost 15 years. He seemed young and virile with his new short flattop and mustache.

The barber showed off the sparse back with a mirror. By then, Derek's head shave had also ended and he stood nearby to admire his prof's new, mean look.

Dr. Bruce gave off the appearance of a hard-scrabble, old-school drill sergeant....or even a rough-and-tumble cop like his grandfather.

"I feel quite aggressive with this military-length flattop, like my testosterone is surging, Derek," Dr. Bruce confessed as they left the shop together.

He stroked his student's freshly shaved head.

"Oh, that's so wonderful," Derek purred, coming close to signal he wanted the caresses to continue.

"But your brows weren't shaved," Dr. Bruce noted.

"It's not something the barber offered or suggested," Derek explained. "Plus, I think I want them to grow back."

"Nonsense!" Dr. Bruce snapped. "I'll shave them myself at my place."

Dr. Bruce quickly caught himself, "Oh, sorry. That wasn't the thing to say. I just felt a desire to dominate! It would be so inappropriate with one of my students..."

He rubbed his hands up his bristled back to keep himself from rubbing Derek's shaven scalp.

"Our looks can change us so quickly," Derek noted. "With my long blond hair, I felt so vain. But, after my head was shaved, I craved submission."

"And, I started with shaggy locks feeling philosophical....but turned quite competitive and success-drive with my fussy hairstyle....and now all I want to do is control and subdue with my brutally short flattop," Dr. Bruce added.

"Maybe it's meant to be with our haircuts," Derek said tentatively.

"What?!" Dr. Bruce asked.

"The one dominant with his flattop, the other submissive with his head shave...and so much needing his eyebrows scraped," Derek said, flirting with his prof.

Dr. Bruce took Derek by the hand. "Come!" he said as they quickened their pace.

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