Revised version copyright 2006 by the author.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a short, light piece I dashed off based on something that really happened to me. Real life, alas, didn't go nearly as far as this story. KN
I never get a haircut until I absolutely have to. I don't like waiting, or making small talk with some blonde with teased hair who's only being nice to me because she's hoping for a big tip.
But it was constantly falling in my face, and I could even feel it weighing down on my head. It was time to go.
Fortunately I had a day off, so I went after lunch, when it wasn't crowded. When I walked in the shop cool air hit my face. No one was there except the cashier and one haircutter who I hadn't seen there before, standing by his chair. He looked up and smiled.
"Ah, a customer." He was a cute young Latino, his hair dark, his skin olive. He had a pair of huge brown eyes with long lashes. Things were looking up.
"Have a seat." He gestured to the chair. "What's your name?"
"Barry." I sat down with a sigh, letting my eyes close.
"My name's Chris, and I'll be taking care of you. Now," he said, bending toward me, holding the tissue he was going to put around my neck before covering me with the bib, "To put this on I'll have to undo your button."
My top button was already open. Just as I realized this I felt gentle fingers unfastening the next button down, tickling my chest. My eyes flew open and I found myself looking into his smoky brown orbs. He was leaning close to my face, a slight smile on his full lips. A tingle raced through my body and settled in my crotch.
"So," Chris said, tucking the covering into my collar, "How do you want it?"
My mouth curled into a smile. Two could play this game.
"Me, I like it long and hard. Oh," I said, pretending to be surprised. "You meant my hair."
Chris laughed. "Yeah, your hair."
I told him how I liked it for real this time, and he set to work. He was good at flirting, but Chris was even better at cutting hair. The scissors and clippers danced in his hands. He didn't talk much. He didn't have to. His occasional touch on my hair or neck sent shivers running through me. We made eye contact several times and each time a spark jumped between us. Before I knew it I had a perfect haircut, Chris was brushing the excess off my shirt, and I was ready to blow a load from the erotic vibes in the air.
"How's it look?" Chris asked, offering me a mirror so I could look at the back. I barely glanced at myself.
"Fine, " I said. I let my lips shape a quick kiss, visible only to him. He didn't react.
"Yeah, looks fine to me too. Okay, you're done, man. Pay at the front."
I felt as if he suddenly had poured cold water on me. Was it all just a game to get a big tip? I stood up, frustrated and a little bit angry. As I paid the cashier I thought about just leaving. Still, my hair looked great and I couldn't stiff someone for flirting with me. I took two ones out of my wallet and walked back over to his chair.
Chris took the money, thanked me and put it in a box he had on the counter. When he turned back he had a business card.
"Come back soon, man," he said, his voice cool and impersonal.
So that was it. "Thanks," I said. I took the card and stalked out. It wasn't until I was in the parking lot about to get into my car that I looked down at it.
His name was printed in the middle: "Chris Moreno, professional stylist." Below it were a few words, scrawled in ballpoint pen.
"I'm closing tonite at nine. Come by if you can. You're hot. Chris."
I stood there, a grin spreading over my face.
It was dark when I came back at nine, a warm summer evening. The lights were still on in the salon, but the chairs were empty. I pushed open the door and walked in. Immediately Chris appeared from somewhere in back. He grinned from ear to ear when he saw me, showing a dazzling set of white teeth.
"Hey, it's you."
He'd discarded the smock he wore while at work, and had on jeans and a black tee that showed off his sculpted chest, flat stomach, and bulging biceps. I shrugged, trying to stay casual.
