The Scarlet Falls Barbershop: Zane by Faded Dusk

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Owning a suburban barber shop on the outskirts of Minneapolis was a wonderful vessel for interacting with men of all sorts. In just four years, I’d served soldiers, businessmen (snarky, passionate, kind, and everything in between), children of all sorts, a few grandpas, teenagers (the cocky kind and the well-mannered kind), and so forth. Along the way there’d been probably at least a thousand requests for "just a trim," and I, in the interest of retaining a lot of their business, for the most part obliged. Transformational cuts were a lot rarer, though I was pleasantly surprised to find that I could usually manage at least one per week. Granted, some of those were not explicitly voluntary, but if they were that concerned, they really should’ve given me more specific instructions to work with. Best of all, business had boomed lately with the arrival of a new apartment complex and a shiny hotel within walking distance of my shop, the former bringing in a wonderful string of newfound regulars, and the latter providing a convenient breeding ground for one-time stops that allowed me a bit more…liberty, with the clippers.

But the best cases of all…those were when a regular customer and a transformative cut all got rolled into one. And those were exceedingly rare. Zane though…well he’s a rare breed in more ways than one.

It was getting late into the afternoon, and I hadn’t had a client to cut for a solid half hour. One of the perks of living right above my barbershop and owning the place myself was the ability to set my own hours, and one of the many perks I offered as a result was haircut appointments stretching into the evening. Some were more keen to capitalize on the service than others, but on cool Thursday nights like this one, customers weren’t exactly common. But that’s when he opened the door, the telltale bell alerting me to the new arrival, and at first sight a wave of excitement shot through my body. Sturdy, but subtle muscles, a jawline that could cut steel, and best of all in my business, a huge mop of black curls that spilled every which way, hanging down to the collar, framing his face, and bouncing ever so slightly as he walked. Even if he just asked me to take off a quarter of an inch, just getting my hands in there would make my week.

He flashed me a bright smile, "hey, uh, I hope it’s not too late for a haircut. I’m new to the area, but I saw your shop on the way into the neighborhood and well, figured right after unpacking was a good time to come. But I’m cool to come back tomorrow if youâ€""

"No, you’re all good, come on in and take a seat!" I tried to restrain my excitement, though from the grin, I guessed I wasn’t all that successful.

"Awesome. I’m Zane, by the way," he said as he flicked one of his curls out of his eyes and settled himself into my large black leather barber chair. "Holyâ€", this thing’s like a throne and an easy chair rolled into one!"

"Well if I’m only going to have the one, I’d like to make it comfy!" I quipped, shaking out a pale barber cape and tossing it around him, careful not to pinch the curls on his neck when I fastened it. I tried not to think too much about how good his hair color would look on this cape in particular…wouldn’t want to fantasize and get carried away.

"It certainly beats wooden kitchen stools, that’s for sure!" he laughed, "oh, sorry, I trampled right over asking your name, didn’t I?"

"No worries, Ragnar, pleasure to meet you," I said. One of his eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "Norwegian family," I explained, "and Dad’s a huge advocate for ancestral names and all that jazz." I pulled a large brush out of the drawers and began running it through his mop. Gods, this was divine, even with all these curls, the brush ran through with nary a snag, and it was so soft too…

"So," I said, partially to distract myself and partially out of a nagging curiosity, "you mentioned kitchen stools? I know standards have never been that high at SuperCuts, but I didn’t think they’d sink that low."

Zane let out a hearty laugh, "No, luckily they haven’t, at least as far as I know. I haven’t seen the inside of one, or really any barbershop or salon in years. It’s actually why I was so eager. My girlâ€"well I guess ex-girlfriend now has been trimming my hair for the past three years. We first got together in senior year of high school, and almost right away she was begging me to grow out my hair because she said it would look so much more handsome. At first it was fine, but…six years of the same style just gets stale, y’know?"

"So what was your hair like before?"

"Back before that? Pretty short usually. Nothing fancy, just a general relatively short cut, practicality over style and all that. I hadn’t really paid it much mind until she started nagging me about it. But now…well it’s not like she’s going to stop me anymore from cutting it down to size."

"Rough story?" I asked hesitatingly.

"Not too bad, all things considered," he shrugged, "just going different places with our lives and there wasn’t really any spark anymore. So I packed my things and moved out here to the apartment complex down the road.It’s within a short driving distance from my job and it’s a beautiful area, and honestly even with the reduced living space, it’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time."

"Shaking off the doldrums, eh?" I finished brushing and swapped it for a comb and scissors, "Speaking of which, I should probably ask what exactly you want me to do with this hair of yours."

He pondered for a moment, "I hadn’t really thought about it that much. So…I guess just start cutting and I’ll tell you when to stop?"

I chuckled a bit, "bold words to say to a barber, Zane. You sure you want to just hand me the reins like that?"

"New experiences, right?" he winked at me in the mirror. Was he…flirting with me? Focus Ragnar…

"Well, hope you’ve said your goodbyes then!" I chirped. Quick as a flash I lifted a section away from his neck and sliced it off. The three inch chunk fell lifeless to the floor at my feet, and Zane whistled. Sensing my pause, Zane laughed again, "well don’t stop now!" Of course, I obliged him.

Bit by bit, chunk by chunk, curl by soft curl, my scissors ran wild. Slowly but surely I first exposed his neck, pale skin that clearly hadn’t seen the light of day in years, and enveloped my loafers in a bush of hair. Not missing a beat, I shifted to his left side, angled his head downward, and began reducing the length there as well. Snip, snip, snip, the sound blended into a constant drumbeat, as handful after handful of Zane’s beautiful curls slid off his head onto his shoulder and further into his lap. By the time I had worked my way around to his right side, his lap was already so full that I couldn’t even see the cape anymore. "Sheesh, Zane," I breathed, "it’s been fifteen minutes and I feel like I’ve barely made a dent."

Zane grinned, "well now you see my conundrum that I’ve been dealing with for so long. You’re going to cut my expenditures on shampoo and conditioner just as much as you’re cutting the hair itself!"

Another handful of curls slid down to join the cauldron in his lap. "I’m happy to help if I can, but honestly at this rate not much is going to change." His brow furrowed, and I saw his eyes pan up to stare at my hair. True to form as a barber, I didn’t have a hairstyle so much as I had a practical cut to make sure I wouldn’t be distracted by it on the regular, cropping my light blonde hair into a short Princeton.

"How short can I go without you shaving me bald?" Zane asked.

I swallowed, "Ah, I think if I did that I would take the sides and back down to a zero and the top to a one. But that would just leave you with fuzz on top and nothing everywhere else. Are you sure that’sâ€""

"Do it," he urged me, "I want that kind of change. I want to feel completely different. I want…I want to be free."

Silently, I combed the significant thatch that remained on his head into a horseshoe parting and clipped the top off on its own. I delicately picked up the clippers and snapped off the guard. I walked around behind Zane, dug my hand into the curls on the back of his head, and pushed it forward so his chin was glued to his chest and his eyes were forced to stare into the mass I’d already liberated from his scalp. I hesitated, twirling a silky curl around my finger. "You’re absolutely sure?" I asked one more time, "once I do this, you won’t get back to this point for at least a year."

"Shave me, Ragnar," Zane practically begged, "I’m ready."

The clippers jolted on and I drove them swiftly and smoothly into the bulk, leaving a swath of snowy skin behind and dropping a new, larger than ever, mass onto my shoes. Zane shuddered as the air conditioning grazed his scalp for the first time. I would no longer be deterred. The clippers reentered the bush, over and over, and stripe by stripe, the pile at my feet grew. I spun Zane around and began shearing away the sideburns and temples, flicking the clippers to send the curls to join their brethren in Zane’s lap. At one point, I instinctively dipped my hand into the collection and brushed against a solid shaft in the midst of it all. I was grateful Zane was turned away from the mirror and keeping his head down, so he couldn’t see the half-manic grin that spread across my face. It was good to know he was enjoying this as much as I was. It wasn’t long before the other side was cleared as well, leaving Zane with a snowy scalp all around his head, and a massive thatch still gracing the top. Well, not for long.

I unclipped the top, and ruffled it with my hand a bit to loosen things up, then clicked the #1 guard onto the clippers and braced them near Zane’s forehead. "Last chance, buddy," I said, "you can still walk away from this with a short back and sides."

Zane lifted his chin. Had his eyes always been that beautiful dark shade of brown? "I think you already know my answer," he smiled softly, "now liberate me, Ragnar." With no more words exchanged, I pushed the clippers into his hairline and carved a path backward, dropping the largest wad of curls yet onto the floor. I barely resisted a moan slipping out, and from Zane’s face, he seemed to be feeling similarly. I savored the next five minutes, gently peeling away every last curl, rubbing my hand occasionally over the black pelt that remained.

Once I was sure not a single hair was left uncut, I stepped back and admired my handiwork. It had been less than an hour since Zane had walked in here with a curly mop doubling the size of his head and covering all his features and now…now all those curls were splayed across my floor and cape, with his handsome face exposed and accentuated by the sharp new cut. Asking him to keep his eyes closed, I snapped a few after pics. Regrettable that I didn’t get any of the before, penalty for getting caught up in the moment I suppose, but even these were magnificent, his bowed head, pelted scalp, looking as though he was mourning his shorn hair, even if I knew the truth.

At last, I brushed off his face and allowed him to see the results. His eyes widened at first upon seeing the drastic change, one hand dipping into his lap to finger the pile, but the other reached up and ran slowly over the top’s stubble. A sigh of delight escaped his lips, along with a wide, wide smile. "Happy to be of service," I grinned, unbuttoning the cape, and with a flourish I sent the cauldron crashing down to join the pile already on the floor. If one didn’t know any better they’d think I’d taken a hedge trimmer to a massive black bush and gotten overzealous. I could feel the curls tickling my ankles! I spun Zane around one more time, shot the blow-dryer down his neck, and took the opportunity to use the brush on his face once more. He giggled slightly as it tickled across his nose.

Zane stood up, stretched, and ran a hand over his head again, and again. "Hard to keep your hands off it, isn’t it?" I smiled.

The grin just wouldn’t leave his face. "Oh, Ragnar, I don’t know how I’m supposed to even pay you for this!"

"For an experience like that Zane, the cut’s on the house. It was a privilege you afforded me."

Still rubbing the back of his head, Zane stumbled over to the door of the shop, flipped the open sign, latched the door, and dropped the blinds. "Ah, Zane, I know you’re basically in ecstasy right now, but if you lock the door you can’tâ€"" my quip was cut off as Zane’s hands wrapped around my chin and pulled me into a passionate kiss.

He pulled back just as quickly, "I’m sorry, I was just so happy, and Iâ€"" this time it was my turn to cut him off, gripping the back of his head and pulling him into an even longer kiss, that left us both breathless. My hands continued to enjoy the fuzz of his haircut as he unbuttoned my tunic gently. Our foreheads touched and he whispered sweetly in my ear, "I’ll clean up tomorrow, babe, for now, I think we both deserve to enjoy this," his hand brushed against mine on his head. Without another word, I grabbed him by the arm and led him up to my loft. Needless to say, his sexy new high and tight wasn’t the only thing we both enjoyed that night.

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