Tim and Karim: It feels right (Part 3) by GermanCut

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On Tuesday after breakfast, I took my bike, picked up Karim, and we rode into the town.

During the ride, I was behind him. His wide back was right in front of me. I noticed that he had gained muscle because of his athletics training during the last years. Like me, he wore shorts, and I stared at his calves which rhythmically tensed and relaxed while he pedaled. I looked at his sweaty short bristles on the top of his head and the stubbles at his nape. and I imagined him in the barber-chair letting his sides shave down to zero again. That hot imagination made me even more sweat.



After Karim had called me on Sunday, my decision was clear I would do the favor to him and get my head shaved again to let him "experience my bald head". Those were his own strange words. But on this day, I wasn't sure at all anymore. Shall I really go to school with a bald head? I would be the only guy with a bald head there, except for Mr. Willnowsky, our teacher in geography. But teachers don't count. Some boys at school namely have buzzcuts, even very short ones, but a clean-shaven bald head would be totally unique. Should I dare?



We finally arrived. I had proposed the same barbershop where my dad and I for the first time ever had got turned into baldies some weeks ago.

"Hello again", I said quietly and locked my bike. Karim put his hand on my shoulder.

"You look nervous, Tim", he said, "but we needn't to be it! We can do whatever we want, you know? There is no pressure! We'll go in and receive cool hairstyles for school. That's all."

Really? That's all? Two mates doing a trip to the barbershop? Nothing else?

Karim surely wanted to calm me and probably himself down with his words, but I felt, whatever happened in the next hour would be more momentous than simple haircuts.



We opened the door, looked for a seat and sat down. Many guys, most of our ages, waited to get fresh haircuts for school.

Right in front of us, there was a younger black-haired guy in the chair at whom the barber was making the final touch. He had got a perfect Bald Fade, and Karim stared at him with open mouth.

I spoke to him "It looks cool, doesn't it? You might ask for this hairstyle, too. I think, it would suit you!"

I don't know why I provoked him. Karim's right leg got restless, his knee moved up and down. I touched his knee lightly and Karim quivered as if he had got an electric shock.

I continued "Don't forget, what you have said There is no pressure! We won't do anything that we don't want. We'll do what feels right, okay?"

"Okay", Karim answered.

"But I must admit that this guy really looks cool with his new hairstyle", I said with a grinning. Karim punched my arm instead of giving a reply.



We were silent, watching the barbers and customers. Karim bit his lips again and again.



I heard a voice from somewhere "Who is next?" I turned my head and recognized the barber who had shaved me bald at the last time. He was just coming out of another room, fixing us with his eyes.

"Nice to see you again, bro", he said to me, "Do you want to take a seat first or your mate?"

I wanted to answer but it was Karim who said with a firm voice "No, Tim, it's my turn, if you don't mind!" And before I could reply anything, he went straight to the chair.



He sat down, the cloak was put around his shoulders, and then Karim said something to the barber that I didn't understand, because it was in Arabic. I saw Karim hesitating, then saying something with a serious face. After that it was the barber who hesitated with a questioning look. But then he smiled and Karim smiled, too. Both nodded their heads several times.



The barber grabbed the clipper, switched it on and mowed a bright path through Karim's carpet of dark hair, straight through the middle!

I couldn't believe what happened just in front of my eyes. I stared at Karim, petrified, with open mouth. It was evident that Karim would get his head shaved completely bald.



Slowly and thoroughly, Karim's hair on the left part of his head was shaved down to the skin. Karim watched the process in the mirror with a serious face. When our eyes met in the mirror, his lips formed a smile which became a broad grin. I tried to grin, too, but it felt fake. I was yet too overwhelmed to have fun.

The barber stopped his work for a moment to let Karim check the provisional result on the right a thick but short fur of dark hair, the remained half of his grown-out boxer cut on the left nothing than bare skin with a light shadow of hair. The contrast was enormous and exciting, but I could hardly wait for the final result to see Karim completely bald.



After the barber had shaved off the last hair, he asked something in Arabic. Karim answered and added in German "Ultra-smooth shaved, please!"

Karim's head got washed first, then lathered with shaving cream. I noticed that Karim admired his lathered head in the mirror. I grinned, holding up my thumbs. As an answer, he looked at me with puckered lips and raised eyebrows.

Karim seemed to enjoy the wet shave very much. He closed his eyes and smiled while the razor did his work on his head, eliminating every memory of his dark hair.



At last, we both saw "the new Karim" in the mirror bald, smooth and shiny, without the slightest shadow of hair on his head and face except of his arched eyebrows and a well-trimmed moustache. "Karim 2.0" had become manlier and more striking, but also somehow more elegant. He looked absolutely hot.



When he left the chair with his bald head, I would have liked to hug him, kiss him and exclaim "You look incredibly hot, gorgeous and awesome!" But I only could say "You" Then my voice broke.



I went to the barber-chair with big steps. My decision was made. No questions to myself, no doubts, no hesitating anymore!

"I was sure that you would come once more to get your head shaved, bro, but I didn't expect that your mate would come for the same treatment. I'm supposed to shave your head, right?" the barber said.

"Sure", I said, "just as bald as that of my mate ultra-smooth!"

"You are real bad-asses!" he replied. I smiled proudly.



That day I got bald for the second time in my life.

You might think that it wasn't so exciting as at the first time. But that's not true. Because it all happened while Karim watched me with eyes wide open how the clippers ran over my head, how my head got leathered and shaved, how I finally touched my skull and felt nothing but smooth bare skin. It felt good.



We had left the barbershop, bought two bottles of lemonade at a corner shop and found a bench at the edge of a small park. We had the park almost to ourselves.



We sat down, side by side, very close to each other.

Karim gazed at me and began to "experience" my bald head. I put my arm around his shoulder and tenderly caressed his smooth warm scalp. I wanted so many things to tell him. But where should I have begun?

I had reflected about doing a favor to Karim by getting my head shaved, but finally it was him who surprised me first with a bald head.

Could there be a friend like him anywhere in the world? Brave like him? Sincere? Warm-hearted? I felt proud to call him my friend. I felt proud to be shaved bald like him, proud about our bald heads our brave, visible sign of brotherhood, concord, friendship, love



"It feels right", I said.

"Yes, everything feels all right", Karim replied.



A poet surely would have chosen better words, but they were the right ones. Because they came deep from our hearts.

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