Fantasy or Reality Pt 3 by Just_Me

---

Curtis and I had a lot of fun in New York. On the night before the next filming, I was idly rubbing my hand up Curtis’ neck as we watched TV. I noticed that his neck felt soft, instead of the smooth of the shaved part, followed by the bristly. I looked at him. "What are we going to do about haircuts? I don’t want you going on TV tomorrow looking less than perfect."

He looked shocked. "I hadn’t thought about it, but as usual, you’re right."

I grinned at him. "I have an idea."

He looked at me. "I recognize that look. What nefarious scheme do you have up your sleeve, Sir George?"

"What would you think about throwing Carolyn for a loop, and showing up with different haircuts?"

"Oh, that could be fun! I can imagine her squinting her eyes, and looking down her nose." Then he asked the big question. "Where would we get it cut, and what would we do if the barber messed up our hair?"

"The last question is easy. We’d come back to the hotel and shave our heads, like we’ve done before when we got bad haircuts while on vacation."

Curtis grinned. "We could do that, but where would we get our hair cut?"

"Hell, we’re in New York City. I imagine there’s at least one barbershop in a town this size."

I shivered. "The question is, a barbershop of what quality?"

I picked up the phone. "We’re staying in a fancy hotel, and they’re always talking about how good their concierge is. Let’s see if he knows of an old-fashioned barbershop."

"The concierge stuttered when I first asked him to find me an old-fashioned barbershop."

He said, "I have been a concierge for almost ten years, and I’ve never had anyone ask me that question. Normally, people ask for an upscale salon."

"I don’t want no damned fancy salon. I want a barber who knows how to get rid of hair."

"You’re in luck, sir. My grandfather wears his hair much like your partner does. I will call him, and find out where gets his hair cut. I will call you back in just a few moments."

I picked up the phone on the first ring. "You got it?"

"Yes, sir. The barber opens at 8:00. Would you like for me to have a taxi here in the morning, to take you?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Sir, I hate to ask it, but may I request that you do me a favor?"

"Hit me!"

"I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand."

"‘Hit me’ means ask your question."

"Oh, I see, sir. Anyway, my grandfather has enjoyed your appearances on ‘Fantasy or Reality’, and would like to meet you. Would you object if he was there to talk with you in the morning?"

"Hell, no. It’ll be fun to talk to a fellow hair-hater."

"He is indeed a hair-hater, sir. I will relay the fact that you agree to meet him. By the way, his name is George also."

"I look forward to meeting him, and thanks for the information."

While we were in the elevator going to meet the cab, I said, "Hey, babe, ready to go have some fun?"

Curtis’ eyes gleamed. "Ready, willing and able. What style are you thinking about getting?"

I ran my hair through my pomp. "I’m not sure, but I’m thinking about playing Russian roulette, and going with a barber’s choice."

Curtis grinned. "That’s always fun, but are you sure? Remember, we’re going back on the show today."

"I don’t give a damn. I wanna have some fun today before I have to deal with stuffy ole ‘Miss Professional’." I leered at him. "I don’t just mean haircut fun. I wanna take you back to the hotel and have another type of fun, as we explore our new haircuts. We’ll have time before we have to go to the studio."

As we walked out of the elevator, I asked, "What haircut are you thinking about?"

"I don’t know. It’s cold, and I don’t wanna go too short."

I smirked. "It’s not that cold in Arkansas. Get what you want, but surprise me." I looked Curtis over. "I know you’re gonna be sexy as hell, no matter what you decide, because you are sexy as hell."

The taxi dropped us off in front of a very well-maintained barbershop that looked like it belonged in Mayberry. I could imagine Andy Griffith walking out of it. I noticed a tobacconist next door, and an idea hit me. I nodded. "I’m going to do it."

We walked in, and the barber exclaimed, "It’s Curtis and George!" (His accent was so thick I could barely understand him.) He looked at an old man who was sitting in the waiting area. "I’m sorry, George, but I just didn’t believe you when you told me they were coming."

He looked at us. "I can’t wait to see your next episode. I sent in a question for you." Then he slapped himself on the forehead. "I’m sorry for acting like that. What can I help you gentlemen with?"

"We both need haircuts, and you were recommended by a man named George." I looked at the old man. "I’m assuming that was you. Thanks." I walked over and shook his hand. "I’m George, and this here is Curtis."

George #2 looked like he was starstruck. "I’m glad to meet you. I enjoyed seeing you on TV."

The barber slapped his barber chair with a cape. "OK, gentlemen. Which of you is first?"

I went and sat in the chair. He caped me up, and said, "What’ll it be?"

"I figure you’re the expert. I’m wanting to switch it up. What would you recommend?"

He combed my hair a bit. "With hair this thick, you can wear any style you want."

I grinned. "I’ve tried quite a few styles through the years, but seriously, I don’t know what I want to try this time. You just cut it, and I’ll be happy."

"Your hair’s pretty long right now. Do you want to keep it long?"

"I don’t mind if you go short. Hell, you can shave it, if you want to. I just want something different."

The barber shivered when I said shave it. He shook his head, "Oh, no, no, no. Your hair is too pretty to shave it. Save that for when you’re old and bald…not that I think you’ll ever be bald. I’ve never seen hair this thick." He pointed at Curtis. "If you want something short, I could do it like his, although your hair is so thick it’d look great in a flattop. Any preference?"

"Whatever you think is fine with me."

"OK, don’t blame me if you don’t like what I do."

"I’m sure whatever you do will be fine."

"Since you don’t have a preference, I’m going to turn the chair away from the mirror. That way what I do will be a surprise for you."

"That’ll be fine." I thought, "Buddy, I’ve been in a barber chair many times. I’m sure I’ll figure out what you’re doing to me long before you’re done." Then I smirked. "George, you may figure out what style he’s doing, but you’ll have no idea what quality of cut you’re getting until the big reveal."

My loins quivered when the barber took the clippers up the side of my head and destroyed my perfect fender. I looked at Curtis, and could see he had the same reaction. I thought, "Curtis and I have watched each other get a haircut at least once a week for over forty years. Why does it still thrill us so? You’d think we’d get tired of it." I continued the thought. "I don’t know about him, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it." I tried to figure out how many haircuts Curtis and I have shared, but couldn’t get the math done in my head. I finally thought, "Who cares how many haircuts it’s been? It’s been hundreds, if not thousands, and every damned one of them was fun."

I started entertaining myself, trying to figure out what style of haircut I was getting. The barber cut for a while, and I finally figured out what he was doing. It looked like I was going to wind up with a short taper: nothing extreme, but fairly short. I was a little disappointed. From my experience, most barbers peel it when they have carte blanche.

He finished my haircut, and stepped back to look at it. He shook his head.

I stepped in. "Let me see what you’ve done."

He turned the chair, but I could tell he wasn’t happy with the haircut. I wasn’t sure why. I thought it was a perfectly fine haircut, even if it was a little boring. I tried to boost his spirits. "I like the quiff. It’s a solid choice."

He said, "Are you in a hurry?"

"No, sir. We don’t have to be anywhere until 6:00 tonight."

"Well, I don’t like this haircut on you. It’s not showy enough." He grinned. "If my handiwork is going to be on TV, I want it to be a haircut I’m proud of. Do you mind if I try something different?"

I could see Curtis nodding in agreement.

"Do what you want to do, and I’ll sit here and enjoy it."

His answer was clippers running up the side of my face, destroying a sideburn. Curtis made a strange sound. I looked at him. "Are you OK?"

He nodded. "I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting him to take off your sideburns."

The barber started apologizing profusely. Curtis cut him off. "Don’t worry. It’s OK. I like George with short hair. I’m sorry I startled you. I was just surprised." He stopped. "In fact, I’m really excited to see what you’re going to do to him. Keep it up, and get rid of that other sideburn."

The barber took him at his word.

I could tell the sides were going to be short, maybe extremely short, but still couldn’t figure out what he was doing.

The first pass of the clippers over the top of my head revealed that he was creating some kind of flattop. I anxiously awaited, to see what kind of flattop I’d wind up with. After a few minutes I thought, "Relax, old man. I think this barber knows what he’s doing. You’re going to be happy."

He was meticulous, and I knew the haircut was going to be good. I just wished I could see how long the flattop was going to be.

After he finished cutting my hair, he looked at Curtis. "What do you think?’

Curtis absolutely gushed. "It’s perfect! He looks amazing. You can see his gorgeous green eyes even better, and the shape fits his head perfectly. This may be my new favorite look for him." He grinned. "My god, babe. Do you never age? You’re still as handsome as you were the day I met you."

I looked at the barber. "Now that you’ve got his approval, may I see what you did to me, so that I can give you my approval?" I frowned. "or disapproval?"

The barber looked chagrined. "Of course. I should’ve asked the person wearing the haircut what they thought before asking someone else. I’m so sorry."

I cut him off. "Just let me see the damned haircut!"

He turned the chair around. My hair looked amazing. The flattop was pretty long on top, and the sides were very tight. My ego told me it flattered my face shape.

I frowned, and I heard the barber take a deep breath. I could almost hear his thoughts. "Oh crap, he hates it!"

I let a huge smile spread across my face. "Curtis was right. I think this is my new favorite haircut."

I got out of the chair, and tried to pay the barber. He said, "I should be paying you for the privilege of cutting a head of hair like yours. It was an honor." He turned to George 2, and did a crazy little jig. "I just cut the hair of George from ‘Fantasy or Reality’! I can’t wait to tell the grandkids!"

I went to sit down and watch while Curtis had his turn in the chair. He surprised me. "Don’t sit down. This is a haircut you’re not going to get to watch."

"What? Why?"

"I want to surprise you."

"I seem to remember you threatening to hang me by the balls if I ever got a haircut without letting you watch."

He grinned. "I did, but just because that’s the rule for you, doesn’t mean it’s the rule for me. Go next door and get a cigar…and don’t be peeking through the window."

"You know I only smoke when I’m playing poker."

"Well, you’re going to smoke today, or find something else to do."

"This ain’t fair, Babe!"

"Who said life’s fair? Now get out that door."

I’m going to let Curtis explain his side of the story now.

I made sure George was gone before I told the barber what I wanted. He just nodded, and said, "That’ll look good on you" and started cutting.

After he got the haircut done, I was thrilled with the look, but something seemed off. The barber sensed my ambivalence and said, "If I may, I think the mustache is too big for the haircut. Can I trim it down? I think you’ll like it better."

I nodded. He clipped the mustache fairly short over my lips, and then took out the straight razor. He trimmed a little bit, and then turned me around. "What do you think?"

I looked at it. It was a pyramid mustache, but somehow, it didn’t look right on me. I shook my head. "I’ve tried most mustache styles, but not this one. I’m not a fan. Do you have another trick up your sleeve?"

"Sure." The razor took most of the rest of the mustache off, leaving me with a thin pencil mustache. He stepped away. "What do you think?"

I nodded. "It’s better, but…"

He nodded. "I agree, it’s much better, but this haircut doesn’t need a mustache. Would you mind if I took it off?"

An idea hit me. "If you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep it. I think George would enjoy taking the rest of it off."

His eyes lit up. "You may be right. That’s a good idea."

I thanked him, and said goodbye, making sure my hat hid my haircut well. I paused to fill and light my pipe before walking next door to get George.

He was pacing and fuming in an alley between the buildings. He had the biggest cigar I had ever seen him with in his mouth, and there was a cloud of smoke around him.

I thought, "Uh-oh, I don’t think all the smoke around him is from the cigar he’s so furiously puffing on. I think there’s also some steam coming out of his ears."

George was so involved in his thoughts that he didn’t even see me. I took the time to enjoy the sight of him. He was so damned masculine, and the cigar and the plush flattop just accentuated his masculinity. He was truly a thing of great beauty.

George here. I’m going to take over the tale of our New York barber adventure.

"I didn’t even enjoy that damned cigar. All I could do was feel sorry for myself for being excluded." He paused. "Well, maybe feel sorry for myself, grumble about it and cuss at Curtis."

When I finally saw him, I looked him up and down. I might’ve been a little rude when I growled, "Well, what the hell kind of haircut did you get?"

Curtis put his finger over his mouth. "Shh…it’s a secret. I’ll reveal it when we get back to the hotel. I think you’ll be happy."

I think I sounded a little grumpier than I intended to when I said, "I see you got a pencil thin mustache. It’s OK, but it’s not my favorite."

Curtis grinned. "Don’t worry. I think you’ll like what I have planned for the mustache." He winked at me. I have to admit I was intrigued.

I threw the cigar down and we got in a taxi. I don’t know why I threw it down. Hell, that was the most expensive cigar I’ve ever bought.

Anyway, Curtis held my hand after we got in the taxi, and I knew he was trying to make things right. He said, "Yum, that cigar makes you smell sexy, and it’s turning me on." I tried to stay mad, but I could feel my resentment fading. I squeezed his hand.

Curtis here. I felt so sorry for him. He was obviously fuming, I wanted to kiss him, and make him feel better, but I would’ve had to take my hat off to get close enough to kiss him. I decided to let him stew for a few more minutes. I got an idea that I thought would make him feel better. I put my hand in his lap…and by ‘in his lap’, I mean I might’ve gently squeezed his family jewels. The look on his face told me that my actions had made him feel a little better…not OK, but a little better.

We walked into our room, and George said, "Ok, let’s see what you did."

I put my hand on him. "Not yet." I stepped back. "You know me better than anyone. What do you think is hiding under this hat?"

I could see him softening. "I have no friggin clue. Hell, I never know with you."

"Are you curious?"

"You’re damned right I am. Take the hat off!"

I looked at him suggestively, "What if I take something else off first?"

He looked intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

I undid a button on his shirt. "Maybe your shirt?"

"Hmmm…do you have an ulterior motive for wanting to take my shirt off?"

I roughly pushed him onto the bed, letting him know I was in charge of the moment. "You’re damned right!" I looked at him. "Now, give me your best guess at what is hiding under the hat."

"Umm…a crewcut?"

"Close, but no cigar." I tried to look coy. "Speaking of cigars, have I mentioned how good you smell?"

He ignored my question. "Did you get a matching flattop?"

"I guess you’ll have to wait to find out, but I’ll give you a clue. I think you’ll like the way it feels when I brush it against your hands."

He groaned. "Hurry up. I’m dying here." Then I saw a naughty thought go through his mind. "I’m not worried about you brushing whatever’s under that hat against my hand. Will it feel good brushing on other parts of me?"

I grinned. "Maybe. You’ll just have to wait to find out." He groaned again. I walked up to him, and barked, "Let’s get you out of that shirt."

He completely lost all of his anger, and grinned at me suggestively. "I’d rather take my pants off."

I exerted my dominance over him again. "Class is now in session, and you are being a very bad student. Do not move a muscle unless given permission by the teacher. Do not do anything unless the teacher tells you to."

His eyes glowed. "Oh, you’re going to be like that, huh?"

I broke character, and let my teacher’s face turn into a grin. "Hell yeah I am." I quickly got back into character. "Now be a good good pupil." I rubbed his chin, and continued where I had left off. "In due time we will reach the point of removing your trousers, but in the meantime you will have to remain patient."

He laughed. "You know I don’t have an ounce of patience in my whole body."

I couldn’t help but break character again. A laugh popped out before I could catch it. "You got that right!"

He tried to help me with the buttons on his shirt. I slapped his hand. "Did the teacher say you could do that?"

He shook his head.

"Then why are you being an obstinate, stubborn child? Are you trying to provoke the teacher?"

I took his shirt off, and explored his chest just a little bit. I said, "Your physical appearance is so hot that you are making the temperature rise in the room. I shall have to remove my jacket to adjust to the sudden hike in my internal and external temperature."

He looked at his groin. "Oh, the temperature is not the only thing rising in here."

I turned my attention back to George. "SHH! The teacher did not give you permission to make inappropriate comments." I continued in my role. "Let us remove the shoes from your feet." I grinned suggestively. "It will get you one step closer to the removal of your trousers."

"I’m good with that." He bent down to take off his shoes.

I slapped his hand. "Bad boy! You did not ask permission. Now, sit up."

I reached down and untied one shoe and took it off. "One step closer…" The next shoe followed.

I undid my tie, and threw it at George. I pretended to fumble with the buttons on my shirt. "The teacher is having a difficult time here. Would you be willing to assist with the buttons?"

"Gladly." He quickly undid the buttons, and tried to take my shirt off, but I gave him a look. "I do not think the teacher gave you permission to do anything but assist with the buttons." I gave him an evil look. "Just so we are clear, you must not touch anything until instructed to."

I did a little strip tease movement, and took my shirt off. He reached out to touch my chest, and I backed up. "No, no, no."

I turned around, and bent over, to remove my shoes. I had an ulterior motive for turning around. I wanted him to see my ass.

He made a passionate noise.

Soon we were both sans clothes…well, I still had the hat on.

He asked, "Do I get to see what’s under the hat now?"

"You have been a fairly decent pupil, so I shall relent and let you see." I grinned. "...but it shall cost you a kiss." I stepped away, and purred, "You will be required to pay me later."

I picked up my teacher’s voice. "You must remember. The teacher has not given you permission to do anything but view the next portion of this presentation. You are to sit silently and observe. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

I pointed at him. "That was very good. You did not comment."

I took the hat off, revealing a very short beveled flattop, with shaved sides. There was a small landing strip, but it wasn’t nearly as wide as when I had the horseshoe flattop

"We do not have matching haircuts, but they are similar. What is your opinion of this situation?" I looked at him. "You may now speak."

Suddenly, I felt very foolish, thinking, "Why did I make such a big deal out of this? He’s seen me with a flattop before."

Evidently George didn’t think like I did. He groaned, "Come here and let me feel of that haircut!" I moved closer, and he stared into my eyes for a bit before he reached up to touch my head. I stepped away, and frowned. "Did I give you permission to touch me?"

The look of longing in his eyes made me stop playing games. I grinned, "School is out, now. Come here, you big lug."

After a very long kiss he stopped. "I didn’t know if I was going to like the pencil mustache, but it feels great." He looked at his groin. "Could I maybe feel it somewhere else?"

"That’s a distinct possibility."

He said, "You mentioned doing something else with the mustache. What did you have in mind?"

"I thought you might enjoy shaving it off."

"Hmm…maybe, but for now, I want to feel it. Come here." He kissed him again. "I could get used to this." His hands gently reached up and caressed my lip. "I like the way it goes from smooth here, to prickly here and then smooth again. It's a very sensual feeling."

He grabbed me in a bear hug, bent his knees, and fell on the bed. I had no choice but to fall with him. His hand unerringly found its way to my head and he groaned again. "I love the way that feels!"

---