Sean and Josh by Just_Me

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Later that evening we pulled up in front of the most exclusive restaurant in town. My first thought was, "He’s been planning this for months. I’ve heard this place has a six month waiting list for a table." My next thought was, "I’m going to have to take his damned credit cards away from him. He’s spending a fortune!" I silenced myself. "Sean, shut up and enjoy it."

I could see more of Josh’s meticulous planning at play when we got to the table. All of the other tables had a small vase with a rose in it. Our table had a large arrangement filled with my favorite orchids: dendrobium, phalaenopsis and cattleya. I hugged Josh. "Thanks for the orchids. They’re phenomenal!"

A snooty Frenchman with a waxed handlebar mustache sharp enough to draw blood arrived at our table. Without a word, he placed wine glasses before us and vanished. Evidently, he knew exactly who we were—and what we wanted.

I saw a change in Josh’s demeanor instantly. "What’s wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing."

I gave him a minute to process, and he just sat there looking glum.


I couldn’t stand it. "Something’s wrong. Please tell me. Did I do something wrong?"

He took my hand. "Oh, no, Babe. Why would you say that?"

"Your demeanor changed, and no one but me has said anything to you, so it must be me. That’s only logical." An idea hit me. I was hesitant to voice it. I finally took a deep breath, and blurted, "Are you having second thoughts?"

He looked at me, and the love in his eyes threatened to make tears fall. "I want to state this emphatically, unequivocally and decisively. There’s only one thing that I am absolutely, 100%, definitively certain of in my life, and that fact is that I love you, and there’s nothing in life I want more than to be married to you ‘til death us do part."

The relief I felt when I heard that made me feel weak. I whispered, "Oh, thank god."

He sighed. "I’m so sorry you felt so scared. I was just having a foolish moment."

I looked at him for a second. "...and…"

He sighed. "Ok, I’ll tell you, but I feel foolish admitting this. When the waiter came over, I was jealous of his mustache, and he made me feel inferior."

I don’t think I’ve ever had to work to keep a straight face as I did at that moment. I borrowed one of Josh’s tricks. I put my hand under his chin, and forced his head up so he would have to look at me. "Babe, have you ever even looked at your mustache? Comparing your magnificent mustache to his is like comparing a tricycle to an eighteen-wheeler."
I rubbed my hand over his mustache. "This mustache is awesome! It’s huge and powerful. Even without the handlebars it’s one of the densest, most perfect mustaches I have ever seen. When you add the ‘bars, it becomes exquisite." I pointed to the waiter. "Sure, that waiter’s mustache was wider than yours, but did you notice how puny it was?" I shook my head. "There’s absolutely zero, nada, zilch comparisons to make. Yours wins in any competition, much less a competition with that pompous ass."

His eyes lit up. "You really think so?"

"I know so!"

I looked him in the eye. "I’d much rather live with your sexy, silky curls than his pointed ridiculousness. Heck, I’d probably poke my eyes out on one of the spokes he calls a mustache."

He grinned. "Come here, you marvelous man. The mustache wants to see what it feels like to kiss you."

I sipped my wine, as Josh and I enjoyed an atypically quiet moment. It seemed like we were just enjoying being with each, and quietly processing that fact that we were now engaged. I sighed, and whispered, "I can’t believe I have a fiance." I thought for a minute, then grinned. "Josh,I can’t believe we’re going to get married."

Josh’s smile told me understood the deeper meaning behind my comment. He took my hand and whispered, "I love you, Babe."

It seemed like a lot more should be said, but what he said covered everything perfectly. I relaxed into a glow of contentment.

While we were eating, Josh threw me for another loop. His voice seemed hesitant. "I know you love my pomp, but I also know you love men with shaved heads. I’m going to shave my head for you tonight."

I was shocked. "How do you know that? I’ve never told anyone!"


He took my hand. "Babe, you’ve told me loud and clear, you just didn’t realize you were telling me. I’m a psychologist, and I am trained to watch people. Your body language and eyes tell me all the time."

"They do?"

I looked around to see if anyone was watching us. Even though the high walls of our booth sheltered us from most of the restaurant, I still felt exposed talking about such personal things in public.

"Yes, they do. You’re very circumspect about it, but I see it. You always glance at someone with short hair a second time. Even here in the restaurant, you keep glancing at the hot dude with the shaved head and long beard. Don’t worry, you aren’t obvious, but I see it."

"I'm not looking at him because he's hot. I'm watching him, and almost every other person in our line of sight lust after you." I thought, "Sean, you know that damnable blushing you do just told Josh you were lying." I sighed. "How is it that you're always, and I do mean always, the most handsome guy in every room?"

Then I got catty. "He’s probably eaten up with jealousy because you have that amazing pompadour, and he’s balding." Josh laughed, and touched his hair.

I looked at the bald guy again. "He is hot though!" I think my jaw dropped. I couldn't believe I'd just said that out loud in a restaurant, but I was so damned tired of hiding…

"Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry! I would never want you to think I was wanting him."

"Babe, it’s OK. We’re men, and we react when we see someone attractive. It’s a part of being a man. I knew you weren’t planning on jumping his bones."

He paused. "Seeing your attraction made me want to shave my head for you. The idea popped into my head, and it won’t go away. It’s a gift I can give you, that proves how much I love you."

Part of me wanted to lower my voice, or even change the subject - but another part of me wanted to know more about what Josh was thinking about with the head shave.

"Josh, sweetie, you prove your love for me every day, and that incredible proposal you just made said it clearly."

"Maybe so, but I still want to do this for you." He grinned that grin that, even after five years, still made my heart flip flop in my chest. I thought, "Uh-oh. Some wise-ass remark is about to pour out of his mouth."

I was right. He quipped, "What kind of fiance would I be if I wouldn’t give up my gorgeous, amazing, awe-inspiring pompadour for the man I love more than life?" He spoke with finality. "We’ll stop at Walmart when we leave and buy some clippers."

My libido went off the scales. "Really? That sounds so hot!"

I got lost in thought, thinking about what he was offering me.

I interrupted something he was saying. (I don’t know what it was, because I hadn’t been listening.) "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can we wait until tomorrow to shave your head?"

"Why?"

"Part of my fetish is seeing a man in a barber’s chair. If you’re going to do this, I want to see you in a traditional barbershop."

"Deal! First thing in the morning?"

"I’ll have your ass out of bed before the rooster crows! I want you to be Walt’s first customer." (Walt is our barber, and a dear friend. He’s quite a bit older than us, but he’s fun, crude as hell, irreverent and a hoot to be around.)

"Don’t you dare wake me up before six!" He gave me a leer. "Hell, we may still be awake at six. I plan on making love to my fiance all night."

I blushed, and I felt my heart rate go up when he said, 'my fiancé'. Will I ever get tired of that? Visions of tomorrow’s barbershop visit swam through my head, and lust filled me when I realized I’d be making love to my newly bald fiancé tomorrow night.

Suddenly an idea hit me, and I blurted it out. 'Would you like for me to shave my head also?'"

He reached up and touched my long, tousled hair. "I can’t believe you’re willing to lose this glorious hair."

"I’d do it for you." I looked away, too shy to look at him. "Honestly, I’d be doing it for myself too. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to feel a razor gliding over my scalp. It seems like it would be a pretty intense feeling."

"If you wanted to shave your head, why didn’t you just do it?"

"I was worried about what people would think."

He laughed. "If you’re serious about it, I think now would be the perfect time to do it. We live in California. You’re going to have to do something much more outrageous than shave your head to shock the people out here." He got serious. "I’m not trying to make light of your fears. We come from one of the most conservative states in the Union, and people at home are going to think bad thoughts. It’s built into the culture. However, you just agreed to marry a man. I don’t think the home folks are going to give a damn what your hair looks like when they find out about us getting married."

I laughed…maybe a little nervously. "I haven’t thought about it like that. You’re probably right."

Josh motioned to the waiter. I had to suppress a laugh when I thought, "He walks like he has a steel rod up his ass."

The waiter placed a silver tray on the table. There was a small box on it. Emotions threatened to overcome me. "Josh, you shouldn’t have!"

"Shhh…it’s honestly nothing major, just another promise I want to make to you. Open it."

Inside were two sets of dog tags. Nothing fancy. Not gold-plated, or diamond encrusted. Just simple, ordinary dog tags. I picked one up, and read, "Every Friday Still to Come". I slipped the dog tags over my neck.

I stared at Josh, unable to find words. Finally I picked up the second set. "Will you wear these? This is my promise to you. Every Friday still to come." I paused, then said what was in my heart. "This dog tag I give to you as a token of my love and devotion to you. I pledge to you all that I am and all that I will ever be as yours."

Josh is not a cryer, but tears streamed down his face. "Ditto, babe."

His eyes locked with mine as he put his set on.

In my heart, no matter what our legal marriage date winds up being, this night in a fancy French restaurant will always be our wedding night. Gifts were given, promises made and vows exchanged.

We both recognized the solemnity of what had just happened. A quiet peaceful awe over what had just happened seemed to shimmer in the air. Josh finally broke the silence. "What just happened?" He shook his head. "Don’t answer that. We both know, and it was f***ing amazing. I love you, Babe."

He picked up his wine glass and toasted me. "To every Friday yet to come."

I clicked his glass with mine, and simply said, "To us."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes.

Josh’s mood changed in an instant. "I want to show off my new fiance. Do you want to go boot-scooting, or dance the night away to some pop music?"

I thought for a second. "A country bar, and a pop bar sound too loud for the day we’ve had. I’ve heard about a new jazz club that has a dance floor. How would you feel about that?"

He smiled. "You’re right, and that sounds like the perfect place to show off my fiance. Pull out your phone, and find it."

A quick Google search gave me the address, and we headed off.

The club was perfect. It was flawlessly designed with an art deco theme. The designers had really hit the right balance. It was elegantly gorgeous, without feeling like a caricature of the 1920’s. It was my kind of place, and most importantly, it wasn’t so loud that it was hard to have a conversation.

I was a little apprehensive going in, because it was advertised as "gay friendly" and I didn’t really know what that meant. I soon relaxed though. The crowd was roughly 50/50 gay and straight, but no one seemed to pay any special attention to the gay couples…except for us. Josh’s incredible good looks, his outrageous pompadour and handlebar mustache made a lot of people look at us.

Josh told the waiter we were celebrating our engagement, and he must’ve spread the word through the crowd. I was shocked when the waiter brought over some drinks. "Compliments of the couple at the bar." I looked at them, and they raised the glasses to us, and gave us a big smile. I blushed. I didn’t like being the center of attention.

My mind began to race. "Why would they do that? That doesn’t seem like the typical reaction of people in a bar."

Hope spoke up. "Maybe they just saw the glow of love in your eyes, and it touched their heart. Did you ever think about that?"

Soon drinks began appearing at our table, and I might’ve drank one too many cranberry martinis (or maybe two, three or four too many). Many of those drinks were brought over by patrons, who wanted to congratulate us, and know our story. Each new drink brought up a new wave of emotions: pride that I was able to say that I had captured a man as amazing as Josh, embarrassed to be publicly admitting I was gay (although I didn’t have anything to do with that, other than accepting Josh’s proposal. Josh was the one who spread the word.)

Honestly, it felt surreal that so many people were willing to congratulate us, rather than condemn us. I thought, "You’d never get this kind of reception in rural East Texas. The rednecks would be running you out of town."

Anyway, either the accepting atmosphere, or the excess of alcohol, helped loosen my inhibitions (I rarely have more than one drink. A surgeon has to be capable of stepping into surgery at a moment’s notice). At first, I just held Josh’s hand. Without me realizing it, I snuggled up against him, and he put his arm around me.

Josh grinned at me. "I think I need to help you metabolize some of that booze. Let’s dance."

He went over to the band leader, and I think I saw some money swap hands. The sound of "Endless Love" (one of my favorite songs) filled the air. I hugged Josh, and my feet began to move of their own volition.

We danced for hours, our bodies worked as well together on the dance floor as they did in the bed…and Josh was a spectacular dancer. Every move was graceful and elegant, but he had a sensuality about him that let people know this was an immensely sexual being.

He made me better than I am on my own. As the night wore on, our movements began to reflect what we both had in mind. I felt an increase in the sensuality of Josh’s movements, and responded with my own increased desire.

We danced until the club closed for the night.

Neither of us were ready for the night to end, and we sat on the hood of the car talking for hours. Josh interrupted me at one point. "I know I normally only smoke my pipe on Friday night, but tonight feels like a night for celebration. Do you mind?"

"Only if I can have a cigar too."

"Babe, you can have anything you want."

Something about the way he said that tipped my scales from enjoying the intimacy of conversation, to wanting something more intimate. Maybe the booze had loosened me up, but I was uncharacteristically blunt. "Sweetie, I want a cigar, but I need you tonight. I need you to fill my body as much as you’ve filled my heart."

The streetlights glistened on the tears that showed up in his eyes. "Babe, I need you just as badly." He kissed me, and I ran my hands across his chest.

Cigars were forgotten, and we made our way to the hotel.

I don’t know if our passion had been ignited by the proposal, or we were stoked by the anticipation of Josh getting his head shaved, or something else entirely, but that night was extremely special. Even though we had regularly seen each other in the nude, and we had made love more times than I could count, we started exploring each other as if it were our first time together, but with patience—almost like an archeologist, unearthing buried treasure. Each freckle was something to celebrate. The way his chest hair whirled around his nipple was something to explore. The responsiveness of his nipples needed to be tested. The way he shuddered when I nibbled on his earlobe needed to be studied. The velvety smoothness of the knob of his dick (and the crevice under it) needed examination—with my tongue. The softness of his eyebrows, the length of his eyelashes needed close scrutiny. The shape of his toes needed to be looked at…and I couldn’t help but suck on them a bit. I analyzed the springiness, and coarseness, of his pubic hair. I had to test the abrasiveness of his beard, and see how it felt on my cock.

The tenderness he had displayed when he started moving in me overwhelmed me. He moved so slowly that it felt like it took forever for him to fully enter me, and then he took just as long to withdraw—and he withdrew fully each time, before starting to slowly fill me again. I was frantic with longing every time he pulled out of me. I needed that feeling of fullness.

The sensations, and emotions, built with every movement he made, and I began to wonder if I could die of sheer feeling…then the sensations built more, and I couldn’t even think. All I could do was feel.
He started to withdraw when he felt my balls tightening, and knew I was about to release. Somehow I knew what he was thinking and I wrapped my legs around him to keep his gorgeous cock in me. I locked my feet together, holding him inside of me, and thought, "I could stay like this forever." I gazed into his beautiful eyes.
Josh was soon sleeping like a baby, at peace with the world. The sound of his gentle snoring usually quieted my mind and edged me toward sleep, much like a cat's purring relaxes me. Tonight, though, I couldn't sleep.
I castigated myself for my restlessness. After the magnificent way Josh had just loved me, I should be sleeping the sleep of the well-sated and well-loved. Instead, my mind raced with worries I couldn't silence. What if he hated the shaved head? What if he blamed me for losing his hair and started resenting me?
But I knew there was another element to my sleeplessness—one I didn't want to deal with. The thought of watching his beautiful hair fall onto the barber's cape had me so massively aroused that I couldn't ignore how my body was reacting, despite having just had the most incredible sexual release of my life.
I lay there torn between anxiety and anticipation, worried he might hate his new look but shamefully excited about my fetish finally being indulged. I had thought I'd learned to accept this strange part of myself, but that night I let the old shame and revulsion take hold again.
My excitement over what Josh was giving me eventually overwhelmed the shame, and I allowed myself to just anticipate the fun. My love for him deepened as I thought about his willingness to sacrifice his beloved hair just to satisfy this strange kink of mine.
I was true to my word, and had Josh up at the crack of dawn. We were waiting outside the barbershop long before Walt showed up.

Waiting patiently is not my forte, and my nerves were about to get the best of me. After the fourth time I said, "My god, is he ever going to get here?" Josh pulled me into a tight embrace.

"I know how to calm you down. Kiss me."

He was right. I almost forgot about where we were, or what we were going to do. I was already in such a heightened state of arousal that I wanted to get naked right there on the spot…but I let fear stop me, damn it! Why do I let what people think bother me so?

A loud throat clearing brought me back to where we were. I looked up, and Walt was standing there with his impeccable grey flattop standing at full attention. Mischief gleamed in his eyes. "It looks like you two need to go to a goddamned flea bag motel, not an old-fashioned barbershop. Don’t be thinking you’re going to use my f***ing barber chair as a bed."

I blushed.
Josh spoke up. "Easy there, you cantankerous old fart."

Walt yawned. "GIve me a minute to get the lights on, and the coffee going." Another yawn threatened to dislocate his jaw. He glared at Josh. "I’m pissed at you. I couldn’t go back to sleep after you called me last night."

I punched Josh in the shoulder. "You called him last night?"

"Yep! I wanted to make sure he got here early, because I knew how you’d be this morning."

I looked at Walt. "I’m sorry he did that to you."

He grinned. "That’s ok. I’ll make his ass pay for it when we get him in the chair. I might shave him on top, and leave him with just a damned fringe around the sides. Let him see what he looks like as an old fart."

I laughed. "That'd be a helluva way to pay him back for waking you up, and I have no doubt that you’d do it. Heck, Josh probably deserves it."

I gave Josh "the eye". "Shame on you for disturbing this poor old man’s sleep."

Josh gave me his best go-to-hell look.

Walt grumpily said, "Watch the ‘old man’ s**t."

We walked into the shop with Walt, and BS’d while he got the coffee made. Walt guzzled a cup of coffee, refilled and took another sip. He looked at Josh and smiled. "Ok. I think I can start the day. Have a seat."

Once Josh was seated and caped up, Walt ran a comb through his hair.

Despair hit me. Why didn’t I take the time to run my fingers through Josh’s hair one last time this morning? I shook my head, disgusted with myself for not thinking about it.

Walt laid the comb down. "Was I dreaming? Did your sorry ass call me and tell me you wanted me to shave your goddamned head?"

A huge smile spread across Josh’s face. "You’re damned right I did. I want it shaved slick as a cue ball. Think Kojak. You’re old enough to remember who he is."

Walt frowned. "I’ll show you old with a f***ing baseball bat upside your head." He laughed. "Are you sure? I’d be pushing you to shave your head if you were balding, but dammit, I think it’s a shame to cut off your gorgeous pompadour."

"This was a spur of the moment decision yesterday, but I’ve been thinking about it. I’m looking forward to the freedom of not having to deal with my hair. Here’s the way I see it. I comb my hair dozens of times a day, and push it out of my eyes even more than that. I figure I can spend five minutes in the morning shaving it, and not have to worry about it any more for the rest of the day."

"You’re a crazy bastard, but I can’t argue with that logic." Walt looked at me. "I was going to ask you if you’re ok with this, but the damned bulge in your jeans tells me you’re more than ok with it." He turned back to Josh. "Ok! One shaved head coming up." He picked up the clippers. "Ready?"

Josh nodded, and settled into the red leather barber chair. "Ready, willing and able. Let’s do this!"

Walt turned the clippers on. Josh surprised me when he said, "Wait."

Walt said, "I thought your sorry ass would chicken out."

"What the hell are you talking about? I ain’t chickening out. I almost forgot. I wanna make this more fun. That’s why I asked you to meet me early, so we could play around with this."

Walt, with his mind ever in the gutter, said, "What are we talking about? You wanna do something kinky? Make this a goddamned threesome?"

Josh laughed. "You’re nothing, if you’re not consistent with the trash talk, you dirty old man."

He turned to me. "I’m doing this for Sean, and I know he has a few kinks, which you would probably approve of. Would you let me smoke my pipe while you cut my hair?"

"Only if I can have one of those big-assed cigars in Josh’s pocket, and smoke while I’m shaving your head."

I stood up and handed him a cigar. "That's a deal." I dug my cutter and lighter out of my pocket and gave them to him. Both men went through their smoking rituals - Walt cutting and lighting the cigar, Josh carefully packing and lighting his pipe.

Once both men were contentedly puffing, I lit a cigar of my own.

Walt picked up the clippers again. "Any last words?"

"Yeah. I had envisioned you just plowing down the center of my head like they did in basic training, but I want to have some fun with this. Yesterday at Disney, there was a kid with a mohawk that got me thinking. We could try that first, or maybe start with a bald spot like you mentioned." He looked at me. "Any preferences?"

My hormones shot through the roof, and my jeans got tighter in the crotch. I blurted out, "Oh definitely the MPB! I’ve never cared much for Mohawks, but I find bald men to be very sexy- -especially younger, prematurely bald men." I grinned from ear to ear. I looked at Walt. "I’ll skin you alive if you cut one hair before I get back. I have my camera in the car. I want to record this."

I set the camera up. "Go for it, Walt."

He grinned. "You’re a f***ing pervert, but have I got a treat in store for you. Since you like bald men, I’m going to make you horny as hell, and put Josh through as many of the Norwood Scale of baldness as my sorry ass can." He chuckled. "Hell, this is going to be fun."

I shivered. "That sounds like a blast!"

He looked at me. "I’ve been cutting hair for damn near forty years, and I’ve always wanted to do this."

Walt was meticulous, and each version was done with care, as if Josh was going to leave the shop with that haircut.

I won’t bore you with all the details, but Walt took us through all seven stages of the Norwood scale, but there were only two that really grabbed my attention.

.My fetish meter went all the way to the top when Walt shaved the top completely. The sight of Josh with a bald crown and ring of thick hair around the sides made my cock leap. He looked sexy as hell.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to go rub Josh’s head. The feel of his scalp under my hands was so smoothâ€"so amazing.

I stepped back and looked at him. The gleam of the baldness contrasted sharply with the denseness of the hair on the side of his head. The contrast of his white scalp (and I do mean white. I doubt the top of his head had ever seen the sun) with the darkness of his hair was shockingly stark.

I stood there with a goofy grin on my face, and felt precum leaking into my jeans. Thankfully, I had left my shirt untucked, and I prayed to a god I no longer believed in that Walt couldn’t see the stain.

I whispered, "Babe, you look so sexy. I wish I could use the barber chair for a bed. I’d love to make out with the sexy man I’m seeing."

"Oh, it looks that good? Walt, let me see this!"

He looked at himself critically, and then smiled. "Damn, I do look good!" He looked at Walt. "Sean had a great idea. Any chance you have something you need to do in the backroom for an hour?" He grinned at me. "I think you were right. We could use your barber chair as a bed."

Walt barked. "Not a chance in hell, unless I get to play with the two of you."

My religious training raised its ugly head. "As you said, not a chance in hell."

Walt laughed at my prudishness. "Hell, I could just sit over there and watch you two go at it."

Josh came to my rescue. "Walt, shut the f*** up, and do the next haircut."

Walt's next creation caught me completely off guard - a low-parted combover with greased hair slicked across the bald spot. It reminded me of a neighbor from my childhood, and not in a good way.

I tried to keep my glass face impassive, but I’m sure Josh read my thoughts. His reaction mirrored mine. He looked horrified. "Hell to the f***ing no! Get rid of this s**t!" Then he burst out laughing. Walt and I joined in, and soon all three of us were gasping for air, because we were laughing so hard.

I looked at Josh’s poor head again, and shivered in disgust.

I let out a loud sigh of relief when I saw the combover disappearing.

I stood there watching as the last vestiges of Josh’s hair fell under the assault of the straight razor. My libido went into high gear. It seemed like every nerve in my body was on high alert. Even the rasping sound of the razor on Josh’s scalp heightened my anticipation, and increased my hormonal urges. I could see Walt’s concentration. It struck me as funny that he was smoking at a much faster pace, and smoke was filling the air.

My knees threatened to buckle when I saw the final results. Josh7 looked so amazingâ€"even better than I had anticipated. His emerald eyes really shone, and took center stage without the distraction of his long hair. I rubbed his head again. It was so smooth, so warm…but yet cool…to the touch. I really hoped Josh would like it.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I thought, "Thank god he doesn’t have a knobby head. I didn’t even think about that."

Josh reached up and touched his bald head for the first time, and shivered like a horse with flies on his back. A look of wonderment spread across his face. "That feels so weird, but it’s a damned good weird. Let me see it."

Josh grinned like he had just won the lottery. His eyes widened, and his breathing got faster. "God, that’s amazing. I look better than the hot guy in the restaurant last night." He looked at me. "What do you think?"

I let my eyes (and my actions) answer for me. I took Josh’s pipe out of his mouth, and we shared our ritual. He blew smoke into my mouth. I tasted the pipe tobacco on his tongue as he gently explored my mouth with it.

I wanted to taste more of him. I longed to take him into my mouth, and show him what his actions meant to me.

An idea popped into my head, and I whispered to Josh, "How would you feel about letting me shave your head at home? I could use whipped cream, and lick the remainder off."

He didn’t whisper when he replied. He boomed. "Holy s**t, that sounds amazing!"

Walt leered. "Sean must’ve just said something pretty f***ing dirty to get that kind of reaction out of you. I wanna know what it is."

Josh shook his head. "Nope. That’s a secret between Sean and me." He looked at himself in the mirror again. "God, I really like this." He looked at Walt. "What do you think?"

"I gotta admit, I thought you were bats**t crazy when you said you wanted to shave your damned head, but it looks good on you." He got a twinkle in his eyes. "If I was into old men like you, I might be fighting Sean for the chance to date you…or at least have raunchy sex with you."

Josh gave Walt a one-finger salute.

We were both startled when Walt said, "What about the mustache?"

My first reaction was, "Oh, hell no!" Somehow, I managed to keep from blurting it out, thinking, "It’s Josh’s body, he can do what he wants." Me crossing my fingers, hoping he wouldn’t decide to shave it proved I didn’t really believe myself.

Josh was a little curt when he said, "Hand me a damned mirror. I wanna look at myself."

He examined himself for a long time.

My heart sank when he said, "I think I wanna go low maintenance there too. I’m tired of waxing it, and worrying about the handlebars matching. Cut 'em off. I’m going to grow a horseshoe."

I thought, "His mustache is such a big part of who he is…at least who I think he is. A horseshoe is going to change everythingâ€"and I’ll lose the suave gentleman I adore."

Josh caught me totally off guard when he looked at me. "You should have a say in this, after all, I don’t have to look at myself all day, and you do. What do you think?"

I stammered a little bit. "Uh…I..umm…I think biker ‘staches are cool. If you want it, go for it."

His sharp ears caught my hesitation. "Are you sure?"

I had been getting ready to go into full-blown mourning over the loss of the handlebars, when my mind supplied me with an image of Josh smoking a cigar and wearing a flannel shirt and work boots. The horseshoe mustache completed the picture. My body responded when I thought, "A trucker-type in my bed could be fun."

I hesitatedâ€"comparing what I was seeing to the image of him as a trucker-type. My reply was confident. "I’m sure. Go for it."

Josh turned back to Walt. "Make it happen."

Walt went for it. He put an attachment on the clippers, and tried to get them through all the wax in the mustache. The clippers roared with frustration when it hit the wax, and wouldn’t go through it. Walt muttered, "Goddammit! What'd you use in this, cement glue? I gotta wash this s**t out first."

Once the wax was gone, he buzzed the moustache low. I could see Josh getting nervous, and evidently Walt could too. He said, "Don’t worry, your damned beard is so thick it’s going to be obvious you have a horseshoe, even when it’s short. You’ll be fine."

He spread shaving cream all over Josh’s face, and made quick work of removing two days of stubble from Josh’s cheeks. Walt was right. The horseshoe was very evident, and my trucker appeared in all his glory. I thought, "Damn, he's still gorgeous" and I fell in love with my new trucker at first sight.

Walt turned to me. "What about you?"

I looked at Josh, with a question in my eyes. He shook his head. "Oh, hell no! I want the pleasure of watching you shave your own head."

I was shocked. "I don’t know if I can do it myself. I don’t think I’m brave enough."

He lowered his voice to an almost whisper. "If you shave your own head I’ll fulfill your greatest sexual fantasy." He leered. "I know what it is. You talk in your sleep"

I blushed again. (God, how I hate how I blush all the time.) A slow smile spread across my face. "Can I make a counter offer?"

He smirked. "You can, but that doesn’t mean I’ll accept."

I whispered, "It would make me horny as hell if you’d dominate me, and do the first pass of the clippers, leaving me with no choice but to finish it up."

A huge grin spread across his face. "I can do that. Hell, I can tie you up, if you’d like for me to."

A gush of hormones surged through me. "I’d like that. Kiss me, and seal the deal."

Walt dramatically cleared his throat. "Ummm, guys, this sounds really fun. Any chance I can watch?"

Josh and I both blushed. Josh answered for us. "Oh, hell no. This is going to be fun, and I don’t want to share it."
*****
This is an excerpt from a much longer love story.

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