3521 Stories - Awaiting Approval:Stories 1; Comments 1.
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An Unusual Homework Assignment by A Recruit
The incident I am about to describe occurred in March of my second year of law school.
By way of background, I should explain that once I had gotten out of high school, I had begun wearing my hair quite long. I guess it was a bit of a rebellious thing for me. Growing up, my parents had made me get a buzz cut. My teen years were a constant struggle with my parents over my hair. And once I got to college I was finally free to let my hair grow long. In fact, through most of college and into law school, I wore my hair down to my shoulders, sometimes in a pony tail, sometimes just hanging free. I always kept it neat and orderly, but I always kept it LONG.
Long hair for guys was a definite rarity in law school; I was one of only about five, maybe six guys in the whole law school of about 900 students with long hair.
I'm not sure why I liked keeping it so long. Most of the guys in my fantasies have really short hair. One recurring fantasy involves hot guys with long hair getting it all buzzed short or getting my own long hair buzzed short by a really cute guy. So I guess I'd have to say that the reason I liked my hair long was the potential to then get it cut short. Unfortunately, I was pretty repressed in terms of catering to my hair "focus." (I hate the word "fetish.") So even when I'd get my hair cut, I never got it cut very short at all, certainly nothing like in my fantasy. Instead, I'd only have the courage to go with a regular, medium-length to longer style.
As is customary in law school, during the first semester of my second year, I interviewed for summer jobs with law firms. During interview season, I kept my hair in a medium length regular business cut, so as not to offend potential employers. By Thanksgiving I had locked down a job with a large New York firm. Once interviewing season was over, I knew I had a good six months where I would be free to grow it long once again. Then I'd have to get it cut back for the summer. (I thought perhaps I would get up the nerve to go with something a bit shorter by the summer.) But it was now March, and I hadn't really had a haircut for about four months, except for a couple of trims just to neaten it up a bit and cut off some split ends.
The semester had been going along well. I had been fortunate to get accepted into a clinical program in Elder Law. This involved actual contact representing senior citizens with legal problems.
Aside from being great practical experience, and a break from the monotony of large lecture classes, one additional benefit of this clinical program was my instructor -- Professor Chad Windbourne. Most of the professors at my school were old and, you could say, stodgy. If you remember Professor Kingsfield from The Paperchase, you would not be too far off. But "Professor Chad," as we called him, was anything but stodgy. For one thing, he was only about 30. It was only his second semester teaching, but he had already earned a reputation for not only being bright and a great teacher, but someone who could relate more with the students.
He was also very beautiful. Indeed, he had quite a following among the female students (and some of the male students, such as myself).
He had green eyes, and auburn hair and high cheek bones. He was fairly thin and wore kind of preppy clothes.
And most significantly, Professor Chad, unlike me, had very short hair. He kept it in a short crew cut, buzzed in close on the sides.
In any event, I had developed one huge crush on Professor Chad. He took an interest in me as a good student, but it seemed like he never noticed me as a guy. That is, until the eventful day I am about to describe.
It was a cold March day; the long winter gave no sign of letting up. Professor Chad arrived a few minutes late to class, which was out of character for him. As he walked toward the front of the room he stopped at the desk of Ken Davis. I heard Professor Chad say, "Ken, will you please stay for a moment after class; I need to talk to you." The professor sounded irritated, and while I normally would have been a bit envious of Ken that he was going to be able to stay after class alone with Professor Chad, the apparent irritation in his voice made me a bit relieved it wasn't me being asked to stay late.
But then the professor added, "And you too Rick and Gary, I need to see all three of you."
Now this was a bit of a coincidence. He needed to see me, Ken and Gary -- the three guys in the class with long hair. (Yes, it was a bit curious that out of only five or six guys with long hair in the school, three of us should be in this one class of only 14 students. I don't know if that was self selection on the part of us long haired students, or whether Professor Chad had something to do with it when he was selecting from among the students applying to participate. It is the tiniest bit suspicious, isn't it?)
So I began to suspect that this had something to do with our hair. I couldn't think of any other reason why we three would be singled out. I felt my stomach knot up.
But then I thought, hey, this was Professor Chad, he was cool, right? Even though he had really short hair, I didn't think he'd be out to get us because of our long hair. What could he say? And maybe we were being singled out for something good, not something negative. Maybe some resume-padding research project or something he wanted to ask us to work on. Then my sexual fantasies kicked in -- maybe he was having a party and was attracted to guys with long hair and this was my chance to get to know him better, instead of simply admiring him from across the classroom. My mind spun through dozens of possibilities during the class.
When class was over and the other students had filed out, Ken, Gary and I approached the professor. I was still apprehensive about what he would say. Was I in some kind of trouble?
"Guys," he said, "I have a problem and I'm hoping you'll help."
"What's the problem?" asked Ken.
"Well, I was a bit late getting to class today because the Dean called me in to his office this morning," explained the professor. "It seems that an alumnus has complained about someone's hair in the clinical program who was assisting his mother. The Dean said that this alumnus had called to complain and said that 'He did not want some long-haired hippie masquerading as a lawyer helping his elderly mother.'"
"Are you serious?" blurted out Gary.
"Yes, unfortunately I am," continued Professor Chad. "Anyway, the Dean tried to calm him down and explain that there really wasn't much that he could do. But apparently this is a guy who the Dean knows whose given a lot of money to the school, though for some reason he's too busy to take care of his own mother's legal problems!"
"So, what do you want from us?" asked Ken with a bit of an inpatient tone.
"Well, the Dean told him that he would talk to the faculty advisor and convey that he did not approve of the long hair. And he asked me to speak to you to see if you would be willing to cut your hair a little shorter," explained Professor Chad.
"All of us?" asked Gary.
"Yeah, I don't even know for sure which one of you the complaint was about, but that's not even the point. The point is that it could have just as easily been any of you," Professor Chad continued.
"Gee, that sucks," said Gary.
"Yeah, I feel really stupid having to bring this up," said the professor, "because personally I don't care. But the thing is, the Dean has told me that he wants to smooth this over. And he says to me, 'You know, I don't think its asking so much that a new professor should help smooth out alumni relations.' So I think this is something where you would be helping me out personally, if you would at least consider getting your haircut."
There was silence.
"As a personal favor to me," continued Professor Chad.
It was time for me to be magnanimous about this. I couldn't let anything bad happen to Professor Chad. And this was my chance to help him out and perhaps get his attention.
"So, what do you guys say?" asked Professor Chad.
"I'm willing to help," I volunteered. "I'll get a haircut, if it will make things easier for you."
"Well, thank you Rick, I really appreciate that," said Professor Chad.
"Its no big deal," I continued.
"Yeah, I don't mind either," volunteered Ken, who sounded a bit irritated.
"I guess its OK with me too," mumbled Gary. "I just don't think its right for the Dean to put you in this position."
"Well, I REALLY appreciate it," said Professor Chad. "Its a big relief to me that you don't mind."
"No, its alright," I said.
"As a matter of fact, why don't I take you gentlemen and introduce you to my barber this afternoon and then I'll buy us all some drinks at Hammanick's afterwards. That should get you all ready for the Dean's faculty reception this afternoon," suggested Professor Chad.
"Yeah, sounds good," I said, trying to contain my glee, yet knowing I was grinning from ear to ear. What a great opportunity to get to know Professor Chad better, I thought. And wow, I get to watch the other two guys get their long hair cut down a bit.
"Yeah, OK," said Ken.
"OK, so why don't you meet me at my office at 3 and we'll go over together?" suggested Professor Chad.
"OK," said Gary.
Professor Chad walked out the door, leaving Ken, Gary, and me alone.
"Can you believe this?" said Gary.
"The Dean is such an idiot," said Ken.
"I know," said Gary. "And what a hypocrite! What happened to all his crap about thinking for yourself and stuff he's always blabbering on about," added Gary.
"Yeah, well, the Dean is a jerk. What else is new?" I said in agreement. "But he's enough of a jerk that he might come down on Professor Chad if we don't do this and I don't want that to happen. He's, like, the best professor we have here."
"No, you're right," said Gary. "I just think we should make a statement, if we are going to do this."
"Yeah, I think so too. Maybe I should write an article for the school paper about the over-influence of alumni on the administration or something," suggested Ken.
"Neh," responded Gary. "Besides, you know what would really piss off the old Dean would be if we showed up to the faculty reception with total buzz cuts or something," chuckled Gary.
"Yeah, like Professor Chad's," added Ken.
"Or Marines," added Gary.
"Why not?" asked Ken.
"You wouldn't," challenged Gary.
"Oh, don't bet on it," responded Ken. "Would you?"
"If you would, I would," answered Gary.
This turn of the conversation instantly made me much more nervous than I was even before we had talked to Professor Chad. While my secret fantasy had always been to have all my long hair buzzed off and to be able to watch other guys do the same, I didn't think I would have the nerve to actually go through with something like what Ken and Gary were discussing. What would people think? How would it look?
"I don't know guys," I said tentatively.
"Come on, you were Mister 'Its No Big Deal' a minute ago," chided Gary.
"Yeah, but we weren't talking about getting buzz cuts. That's a bit drastic, isn't it?" I responded.
"What's the big deal?" asked Ken. "Its just a haircut."
"Yeah, come on, it'll grow back anyway," said Gary.
I thought to myself, "Boy, these guys REALLY don't understand me, do they?" But how could I reveal what a big deal this was to me, without giving away my secret.
"Well, we'll see," I said.
"Yes, that's what we'll do," said Ken to Gary, all but ignoring my hesitation.
With that, we departed to meet up again that afternoon.
Needless to say, I couldn't think of anything but the impending haircut the rest of the day. I kept thinking, "Could I really go through with it? No, they'll change their mind anyway once they've cooled down a bit. They won't do it so I won't have to either." At least that's what I wanted to believe. But that knot in my stomach didn't let me eat much for lunch. And my excitement mounted as did the feeling of impending doom for my ponytail.
When I was done with classes for the day, I returned to my room and looked at myself in the mirror. I tried to envision how I'd look with a really short buzz cut. It had been almost 10 years since I'd had my hair that short. I had some trouble staying focused on that. I kept thinking about going to the barbers with Professor Chad, and about the other guys getting buzz cuts. I was getting pretty horny. The next time I looked at my watch I realized it was almost three o'clock. So I headed over to Professor Chad's office.
When I got there, Ken, Gary, and the professor were waiting for me. "Let's go over to my usual place on Cathedral Street," suggested Professor Chad.
I was hoping he would suggest that. The barbershop on Cathedral Street got a lot of the jocks from campus. I used to go out of my way to walk by that barbershop. There was always a full contingent of cute, young college guys getting really short haircuts. A lot of the teams would go there for buzz cuts. Whenever I'd walk by, I'd sneak a peak into the plate glass window in front, or sometimes, when I was feeling particularly naughty, I would sit on a bench directly across the street and watch the action going on inside. During interview season, I did go there for a haircut a couple of times, but I never had the nerve to get a haircut anywhere even approaching the short type of cut that almost all of the other guys in the shop were getting.
As we approached the shop, a group of four really cute, young guys were on their way out. The one that particularly caught my eye was a blonde whose hair was wetted down. It was shaved real tight on the sides so you could see the skin. It was brushed back and slicked down on top. The sun glistened on his hair, making his earnest young face all the more innocent and handsome. I wanted to touch his hair and stroke his neck. And as we passed by, I couldn't help but steal a quick glance back.
The four of us entered the shop.
My first impression was that it was surprisingly empty. Two barbers were sitting in their barber chairs. The third was at the cash register.
As we walked in, the one at the register looked up and the other two sprang to attention. We were ushered into the chairs. Ken, Gary, and I each settled into one of the chairs, while Professor Chad sat down in one of the seats lined up behind the barber chairs for waiting customers. I purposely made sure I took the middle chair so I could catch glimpses of both of the other two getting their haircuts.
The barber put his cape around my neck. I was nervous and I didn't know what instructions I would give the barber.
Ken made the decision for me by announcing in a loud voice: "We are ALL getting BUZZ CUTS."
"Three buzz cuts for the young gentlemen," repeated my barber.
My first reaction was to want to speak up and say to count me out, that I was just going to get a regular medium length haircut. But I didn't. Instead, Professor Chad spoke up: "You guys, you don't have to do THAT. Just get it cut a little, like you were interviewing for a law firm or something."
"Nope," said Ken. "We talked about it and we want to do this to make a statement to the Dean."
"Yup," agreed Gary. "It's kind of our little protest."
"Hey, I like that idea," said the professor. "I admire your creativity."
Professor Chad stood up and walked over to me. He put his hands on my head.
This made me a bit uncomfortable, but instantly got my juices flowing, as if I wasn't already excited enough at the prospect of getting a really short haircut.
"So, Walt, I guess you should make his hair look like mine," said Professor Chad to the barber.
"You got it professor," said the barber in response.
My first instinct was, "Hey, wait a minute. I didn't volunteer for this." But I didn't say anything. What could I say? Professor Chad liked this scheme. I didn't want him to think I was wimping out. And besides, it felt great knowing that Professor Chad was making the decisions for me. So I was stuck.
Then Gary said to his barber, "Yeah, give me your shortest buzz cut too."
I began to finally see that this was really going to happen, though it all seemed so unreal to me.
I remembered that my hair was still tied back in a pony tail. I asked my barber, "Do you want me to take out the band?"
He just kind of chuckled in a good natured way. "Oh, you don't need to bother."
With that, all three barbers took up scissors and combs.
"I can't believe I'm sitting here and doing this," was all I could think.
I felt a tug at the back of my head. The scissors sliced through my hair. The noise it made reminded me of the sound that a paper cutter makes when you are cutting through a stack of papers. The next thing I knew, the barber was handing me back my pony tail, band and all. "You might want this," he said smugly.
At some level I still felt like this was all in my imagination and wasn't really happening. Then I heard the WHURRRR as the clippers clicked on. I let the pony tail drop from my hand onto the floor. The barber tilted my head down. The cold clippers rubbed against the back of my neck. I knew this wasn't just my imagination. And the reality that I would be leaving the shop with my first buzz cut in about 10 years began to sink in and make me very aroused.
The barber tilted my head down and placed his hand on top of my head. The clippers ran right up the back to the very top of my head. He repeated this motion several times, working his way from one side of the back to the other.
Then he leaned me back a bit and tilted my head back. He stood behind me and applied the clippers to the front of my head. He drew the clippers back across the top until it met up with the spot where he had left off when he was doing the back. Then he continued stroking the clippers across the top of my head.
Next he tilted my head down and to the left and stroked the clippers up the right side. Then he switched the direction my head was tilting and stroked the clippers up the left side.
This all happened very quickly, just a matter of maybe 10 minutes.
The barber finally stepped away for a moment, giving me a chance to examine what he had done in the mirror. My hair was totally buzzed off, leaving no more than about 1/8" on the sides, and about 3/8" on top.
The barber came back and continued edging around the ears and neck with another clippers. Then he brushed my whole head off with a towel and wetted it down with a pleasant smelling liquid in a spray bottle.
When my barber was about done, Professor Chad stood up and walked over to inspect the new haircuts Ken, Gary and I had gotten. I was so rapped up in my own haircut, I hadn't even paid any attention to the other guys while their hair was being cut, but Professor Chad's attention to them made me take notice.
All three of us were sporting really close cuts. Ken's was buzzed down to about 1/4 inch all around. Gary had kind of a marine high and tight, shaved to the skin on the sides and back and left about 3/4 of an inch on top. I had a crew cut, about 1/8 inch on the sides and back and 3/8 inch on top.
Professor Chad put his hands on my shoulders as I remained seated in the barber chair. "Guys, you're all looking really good," he announced. He was really satisfied with his students now.