Tag Archives: women


Disclaimer: This story will contain material related to the topic of sex and religion. No offence of any kind was intended by the author in the drafting of this story. All readers please be advised.

I was born to a dissociated couple, which gradually grew to become a set of divorced parents as time past. I have always resided in Northen Virginia though, the state they chose to settle down in almost a decade ago, when their love was still blooming and on fire. This may be the place my parents had decided to split, but it was where I grew up. I had no reason to leave. Being the product of separated parents will always have a certain impact on the child, and one could safely say I was no different. While kids of my age during middle school enjoyed their childhood times, I was busy becoming an adult, having to deal with arguments every other day over meagre issues, usually over me. After all, with separation, I was the only bridge left between them. Obviously, I grew up and matured very swiftly, in dire hopes of resolving the troubled times that followed even after my parents’ separation. Many years ensued as time quickly past, and before long, I was already in my mid twenties, approaching the climax of my adulthood.

My parents weren’t all bad though. Well at least, not totally. There is one benefit from being their child, probably the only one, and that is their affluence. They were always one of the richest individuals residing in the district we lived in. My childhood may have been constantly rocked by dreaded scenes of unrest at home, but money was certainly an issue. What was an issue, was that I had been inevitably categorised as one without much talent in mainstream education, and hence no prospect in the white collar world. I quickly realised that, trying to correct that would only be a futile attempt. With that in mind, at the age of sixteen, I decidedly dropped out of high school, switching to pursue hairdressing instead, after discovering that I had a certain knack and love for the trade.

In an effort to make up for the past, or at least that was what I thought, my now-separated parents jointly funded my first private business entity, which was a full-fledged hair salon located downtown. It was a small shop space no doubt, but I certainly did not mind. After all, small was not all that bad, since it did not require much furnishing. There was sufficient space for me to setup two haircutting stations, along with a simple front desk and a segregated hair washing area. Small also means that I simply needed to employ two assistants that would help me out with daily chores and chemical treatments. It was a modest business, but the privacy offered by the careful shop design and meticulous service quickly won the hearts of the local townsfolk, in particular those that had to don hijabs or other covered headdresses for their daily lives. As it is a two-seater salon, they were able to comfortably unveil their hijab to get their haircuts or treatments in full privacy at most times. It was a win-win since I could simply offer these sort of customers appointment timeslots and allow them to book down the entire space, in case they felt uncomfortable with revealing their precious locks to strangers.

One of my regular clients, Mariana, was born in a very religious family. However, for certain unknown reasons, she seemingly grew to become an Atheist, or perhaps simply a non-believer. I certainly took no issue with it, since her faith was of no immediate impact to me. However, Mariana’s lack of belief became an issue for her parents, whom were frustrated by Mariana’s repeated refusal to don their religious headdress. Mariana on the other hand, did not want to do so as she did not share the belief her parents pledged their faith to.

Her parents however, were one of the most influential families that had connections both politically and commercially. They were a pair of individuals that were well-respected in the city, and certainly should not be trifled with. Their respect for the religion they endear treads as far as the amount of power they wield in the city, and they have been continuously annoyed by Mariana’s ignorance when it came to the necessity of her following in their religion. The pair was convinced that if Mariana would not obey, they would eventually bite the bullet and use harsher methods to change her mind.

With African roots, Mariana had a full head of wiry, curly hair that she carefully styled as an afro. She would regularly drop by my hair salon monthly to get the afro trimmed up, sometimes getting a blowout when she felt like going slick straight for a day or two. That was no different for today, as she called a day earlier to book a timeslot for a trim and blowout. On the other hand, something drastic and unexpected was about to unfold for Mariana.

Upon knowing that Mariana was scheduled for a trim and blowout at my hair salon, her parents had discreetly stepped in and requested for a favour, even promising a payment in the near future. I was utterly shocked by their request, and had to consider carefully before agreeing, because what was planned technically could not be considered legal. However, in the fear that refusal of their request would offend them and damage my chances of keeping my business long-lasting, I ultimately accepted their request and took on the task, albeit reluctantly.

It was just past one in the afternoon, when the sun was still blazing bright, that Mariana stepped into the hair salon. Knowing that she will be arriving around then from the appointment made, I had decided to reject any potential business from any walk-in customers , and simply waited by the front desk for her arrival. I gestured her towards one of the stations upon her arrival, while one of my assistants assisted Mariana to change into one of the beige silk gowns we offer our clients to change into while we render our services. On the other hand, the other assistant passed me one of the glossy ivory-coloured capes that we used. These capes were custom ordered to be larger in size and feel smooth to touch. The enlarged size was to accommodate the slightly larger frames of the clients I get, and the silky feel was to ensure my clients remained comfortable. The glossy colour also gives off a sense of elegance. Ironic as it may be, what was coming for Mariana was nowhere as elegant.

As per usual procedure, after Mariana took a seat, I proceeded to the humongous-sized cape over Mariana, covering her figure in its entirety, fastening it snuggly by the back of her neck. Judging by her behaviour, she seemed to have completely no idea what was coming. It further reinforces the fact that her parents wanted this ensuing episode to have a dramatic impact.

“Just a trim and blowout please, Jane,” Mariana spoke, as she fiddled slightly with the cape that was already covering her to make herself more comfortable in the seat. Dear oh dear, how was I going to explain myself after what was going to happen to Mariana?

Devachan Caping 1

Devachan Caping 2

In an effort to first mask the ultimate motive, I calmly restrained my nerves and checked through her wiry curls as per usual. As I did so, I casually commented that her afro looks damaged and dried out, questioning if she had been straightening or dyeing it by herself frequently, but that was obviously not the case. She looked indifferent to my remarks, brushing them aside, but I went on about the unhealthy condition of her curls. When it seemed that she would not surrender on her own will, it escalated quickly to having to take more drastic measures.

“Ladies, kindly assist our customer by the seat please,” vaguely hinting for my assistants to step in and secure Mariana in place. They had been briefed beforehand on what was about to take place, and being followers of the same faith as Mariana’s parents, they had no objection of the plan that was unfolding. They quickly stepped up to the sides of Mariana while she was all caped up and in seat. They swiftly reached beneath the cape, and forcefully pressed Mariana’s arms tightly to the armrests of the chair. With rope in hand, I tied both of her arms to each of the armrests respectively. Mariana was totally shocked upon sight of what we were doing, and tried to fight back, but was mostly futile as my assistants kept her steadily in place while I secured her to the chair, ensuring that she had no chance of escaping from what was coming for her.

“Jane, what are you doing? Let me go right now, I am one of your regular customers for god’s sake!” Mariana exclaimed. “God? But there is no god in your life Mariana, or is there? You though, might be wishing there is one very soon,” I replied Mariana blankly, holding in my nerves as much as possible. She was now kicking frantically with her arms fastened and unable to move, and I thought that since it had come to this extent, might as well go all the way. I took more rope, and tied her legs to the foot support as well, rendering Mariana totally zero control of what was going to happen to her.  Mariana was lost for words by now, and did not know what she could possibly do. She had no other options but to accept the current scenario. The curtains were already drawn shut by now, with the salon supposedly closed an hour for lunch. It would take hours before anyone would even suspect or realise the plight Mariana was currently set in, giving us enough time to deal the punishment her parents had wanted us to prepare for her.

The assistants had retreated to the back by now, observing the inevitable fate of Mariana. To totally eradicate any signs of opposition or retaliation, I decided to tape her mouth, masking any vocal rebuttal from her. I reached for a pair of cordless hair clippers from the servicing tray, and unhooked the #2 guard that I usually kept attached on to use for my male customers. The clippers were now without any guards attached, meaning that its blades will unforgivingly shave hair off down to the scalp.

The hair clippers turned on with a thud, and Mariana’s eyes widened upon the sight and sound of it in motion. She murmurs through the tape on her mouth, but could not voice out any clear words to describe her feelings. I grabbed her firmly by her afro, and pulled backwards with some effort to sit her straight, countering her reluctance to obey. Tears almost seamed from her eyes, but I could not care any further. I had verbally promised her parents beforehand, that this was necessary and would be a done deal. With her head tilted back and in place, I placed the oscillating blades of the hair clippers just before Mariana’s front hair line, and ruthlessly pushed backwards all the way towards the crown. The clipper blades changed tunes as it quickly sliced through Mariana’s wiry locks, sending them tumbling to settle on the cold salon floor. I repeated the process, making more passes through Mariana’s locks with the clippers, sending more of her bushy hair to the floor, now laying lifelessly. What was left in the path of the hair clippers, was Mariana’s scalp, pale and free of hair for the first time in her life.


Before long, Mariana’s head was clean of her afro, with all of it now settled lifeless on the floor. I gathered them together into a neat pile, before lifting as much as I could of them in one hand. With her shaven afro in hand, I gestured with it in front of Mariana, reprimanding her for her refusal to conform to her parents’ wishes. “This, is the consequence you have subjected yourself to for refusing to obey your parents’ will,” I preached to Mariana, before cold-heartedly tossing the pile back onto the floor.

But that was not all. Her parents had planned something bigger, considering the fact that Mariana was such a stubborn daughter, and that it would take something more to convince her of reality. I tilted the chair in an anti-clockwise direction, making Mariana now face towards the left instead of the mirror. Her eyes were already drenched with tears from having to witness me shave off her afro, but more was coming. I lifted the haircutting cape by the front, and let it rest on top of the armrests, so that the lower half of Mariana’s body was revealed. Unsurprisingly, she wore revealing clothes, particularly a floral dress cut several inches above the knees, which opposed the values of her parents’ religion.

I pulled out the haircutting scissors from my pouch, and snipped the dress apart by the centre as far up as the cape reveals. Mariana’s panties are now revealed, and she seemed more appalled now by what was coming next. I slit apart her panties by the sides, before pulling them off her forcefully and tossing it onto the vacant chair beside the one Mariana was secured to. With the panties now gone, her pubic area was now uncovered. Her pubic hair was in full bloom, a generous garden of pubes that were wiry and curly, similar to the texture of her now-shaved afro. I was disgruntled by the fact that my long-time client did not even bother to take care of her pubic area, which was essential in a basic hygiene routine.

To help her get started, the hair clippers were put to use again. I gave the blades a few good swipes with a brush, removing any remnants from the previous shaving of Mariana’s afro. The clippers came alive again with a loud thud, ready to mow away. Without hesitation, I mowed away at Mariana’s pubes, letting the clippers eat away at the pubic hair as I ran it around her pubic area. The sheared pubes gathered quickly by the small gap between Mariana’s pelvis and the chair, but I let it gather on purpose to dramatise the punishment she was receiving. With a few more passes using the clippers, Mariana’s pubic area was shaved down to super short stubble, almost invisible to the naked eye. With one good swipe, I grabbed all of the pubic hair that had piled up in one hand, and tossed them away to the floor right in the face of Mariana. She had already ran out of tears and simply given in, subjecting herself to any punishment I was going to deal.

For the highlight of the session, I pulled out a straight razor, but removed the guard that was usually put in place to prevent cuts during use. Mariana deserved to know the full extent of her mistake and what consequences will she face if she decide to make such an error again. Using one hand, I stretched the skin around her labia tightly to keep it flat, before using the straight razor to scrap off the remaining stubble. Each drag of the razor removed a significant amount of stubble, gradually revealing a clean vagina area with no hair at all. I applied more force to ensure every single strand or stubble is shaved off, sometimes cutting Mariana’s labia in the process. But I could not care less. Before long, the entire pubic area was completely free of hair, with some cuts around slightly bleeding, but nothing serious. I pulled back down her slit dress to bring Mariana’s punishment to an end.

As I loosened the ropes securing Mariana in place, she was already partially unconscious, too shocked by my disposure of such dramatic punishment, and confusion as to why I did so. It was all in the name of survival. Should I offend her parents, who knows what could happen to me and my business in the near future?

Upon loosening her, I signalled for the assistants to step in and lift Mariana off the seat. By the backdoor of the salon, a black limousine was already parked in place, ready to transport the victim to her next stop. I opened the door of the vehicle, and the assistants put Mariana in before closing the door. The vehicle took off, concluding the entire process, and I could finally heave a sigh of relief at completing this tedious task.

We are aware that this story may provide reference to certain aspects of certain religions. Kin EMJX & Haircut Stories would like to reassure our readers that the usage of these aspects are not intended to offend any of the religion’s followers, but rather, purely for fictional & recreational purposes. In the case that our readers’ interpret otherwise, we seek their kind understanding by reaffirming our stance that we do not bear such intentions, and are open to editing the storyline if the interpretation is justified. Any reader that wish to do so can contact us via the Contact Us page. Thank you.

S&M Salon

My name is Connie, and I am 22 years old. I have always been peculiar about my hair, never colouring  or layering it, and I have never gotten more than one inch of my hair cut at any one time. My hair is a light, gorgeous shade of brown and hangs as far back as my bra strap. Until today, I have always went to the same salon to get my hair washed, trimmed and dried. The salon is a short walk away from my apartment and I had an appointment at 9AM as usual with Jennifer, a female stylist whom always did my hair. Jennifer was however, sick today and the salon apologised for the late notification as they only opened at 9AM and I was always earlier by 5 to 10 minutes. They however, lost my business when the receptionist did not suggest rebooking my appointment with Jennifer, but to have Jackson, another stylist to do it for me. I politely rejected because I have at times seen Jackson get scissors-happy with his female clients even when they have specified their desired hairstyles. After several minutes of heated debate with the receptionist over not letting me rebook with Jennifer, I stormed out the door and walked down the sidewalk, strolling so long that my feet began to hurt and I sat down on a nearby bench.

While resting, I noticed that I had walked all the way to a Chinatown district within the city. The weather was hot and humid, making me sweat profusely and if my hair had not been tied up previously, it would already have been a tangled mess. Just then, I spotted a modest shophouse across the street labelled as “S&M Salon”, with a silver pair of scissors painted on its entrance. I supposed it was a hair salon and felt that it was some sort of fate to see another hair salon down here at this district, and figured S&M probably represented the names of the owners. Hence, I decided to cross over and check the place out, seeing if there was a person at the salon who might make a good hairstylist.  I crossed the road promptly and made my way into the salon.

The interior was totally out of my expectations, with just a waiting room filled with simple, padded armchairs that were complemented with silver studs. The walls were painted true black and the ground resembled black marble tiles. No signs of a receptionist nor a front desk could be seen either, but there was a button on the nearby wall beside the door, which labelled “Push For Service”. Another door was present on the far side of the room, with an Asian symbol pointed on as well as a number keypad.

While nervous, I decided to press at the button, which resulted in a chime being rang on the other side of the door. The salon was pleasantly cool in the waiting area, so I decided to take a seat in one of the chairs to chill from the outdoor heat, planning to leave in a few minutes if nobody shows up to acknowledge my presence. Just then, a relatively young Asian woman walked through the mysterious door, an attractive lady in her thirties at most. She was dressed in silver, knee-length boots, and donned a black latex dress that stretched down till her knees, completely covering her chest all the way up to her neck. She was however, no doubt in good shape. Her outfit was complete with an odd necklace that resembled a wire cage around her neck, and her hair was held back in a tight bun with silver sticks stuck into it. No loose hair could be seen protruding from her neckline as one usually sees when a girl buns her hair up.

“Hello there,” the lady spoke briskly. “I am Amiko, and this is my salon. How may I be of service today?”, she continued. Her sudden question threw me slightly off guard, and I was still a little bit blunted with a dry throat. “Speak up and tell me what you want, I have customers coming in later and don’t have all day to chat with you,” Amiko further probed. With a husky voice, I responded that I was hoping I could get a quick trim, and introduced myself as Connie.

“Haircuts are $75, and payment is made before we begin, I assume that will be fine for you?”, Connie said.

I meekly replied with a nod and Amiko asked if I had any preference in hairstylists. I was so intrigued by her appearance that I asked if she could do it herself, but she said that there would be an additional $10 surcharge for her services. Nonetheless, I accepted her offer and paid her $85 fully in cash.

Upon payment, she printed out a receipt-like document and asked for my signature on it. Amiko further reassured that it was simply a waiver form to prove that I had voluntarily asked for their services. Assuming there was no fraud or anything similar involved, I paid no further attention to detail and simply signed on it. She then brought me through the door with the number keypad, which led into a hallway that was dimly lit.

“Last door on the right, and I’ll be there in a moment,” Amiko prompted. I entered and the room was relatively small, but still felt spacious enough, especially for a private salon room. The walls were a dark shade of red with the same black marble tiles. It was however, very old-fashioned with a refurbished barber chair that used black leather and chrome metal for its armrests. Strangely, a lever was also present on the side of the chair, but I paid no attention to it. There was also a counter behind the chair in black, which was probably the sink to wash clients’ hair during haircuts or chemical treatments. I sat down on the barber chair, and was surprised by its comfort, not knowing what was to come next.

“Stay still now, someone will be in here soon to help me keep you comfortable,” Amiko said before she closed the door. Whispers in a foreign language could then be heard through the door, before two girls dressed similar to Amiko appeared through that same door. They said nothing and simply walked behind the chair I sat on.

Out of the sudden, a V-shaped leather strap was then placed over the top of my head, and fastened at my stomach to the chair. “What the…”, I said as I struggled to remove the strap, but quickly felt a pair of hands grab each of my wrists, and forcing them onto the armrests. The other then instantly pulled up leather straps that were seamlessly attached to the armrests, and tied my hands to it. A small leather belt was then pulled out as well, and fastened tightly around my wrists, preventing any chane of moving my hands. They then grabbed hold of my legs, and used similar straps to tie them to the footrest. I was now completely immobilised. Noticing that the V-strap at my stomach area may not be sufficient, one of the girls added another strap over my head, this time fastening it by my neck. My vision was now restricted to facing forward, which was an empty wall. They uttered no words throughout the whole process, and left the room.

I screamed for help, asking to be released, but was futile. Sounds of heels rubbing against the tiles could then be heard, which followed by Amiko’s appearance from the doorway, with a snake-like smile on her face.

“Amiko, let me out of here, this is creepy and I’ll sue you if you do not release me!”, I shouted angrily at her. She said nothing, only brandishing the waiver that I had previously signed in my face. On it wrote a clause that negates all my rights while undergoing Amiko’s services. What have I signed up for?

Amiko then forced open my mouth, and stuffed an object in, which felt kind of big and had a small tube attached. She then blew through the other end of the tube, inflating the object, and my mouth swelled so badly that my mouth was forced open. I could hardly make out any noise now with the object in place, and Amiko stuffed the other end of the tube with a cap, keeping it inflated.

She then walked behind the barber chair I sat on, and I heard the sounds of a drawer being opened. A tower was then wrapped around my shoulders, before Amiko walked back in front of me with a humongous cape that was of the same latex material as her dress. She held both ends of the cape, and stretched her arms apart, letting the cape unfold itself. She then leaned forward, pushing the cape over me until I felt it by my neck in the front, before she walked behind me with the cape still in hand. Amiko then pulled the two ends together and tightened it with the snaps attached to the cape. The latex material made me feel trapped and took away my form entirely in the chair, all the way down to my ankles. I almost felt like a sheep waiting to be shorn, entirely at the mercy of Amiko the shepherd.

“Now, lets get started, shall we darling?” Amiko said as she undid my bun. I felt my brown locks becoming undone in her hands, and gradually tumbling down to rest against the back of the barber chair. Her nails could then be felt going through the back of my head as she stroked through my hair with her bare fingers. My eyes began to water as I feared what would Amiko do to my precious locks, but knew that I was helpless, not being able to move or stop her in any way. She then pulled on the lever attached to the seat, and I felt myself beginning to rotate, until I no faced a giant mirror, where I could finally see my reflection. I looked so weird to see nothing but my head and hair protruding from a sea of black latex. Amiko then gathered my hair together in the back and tied it into a ponytail. She fastened it tightly with a band several inches from the scalp at the back of my head, and I heard sounds of a metallic tool being picked off he drawer. It was most likely a pair of haircutting scissors. She smiled again in the mirror as she opened the blades of the scissors and placed the ponytail between. The blades were then forcefully pressed together by Amiko, and snipping sounds could be heard as the scissor blades struggled to cut through my thick locks of hair. Tears began to flow down my face, and my emotions could not be suppressed when I heard the scrunching sounds which sounded shockingly horrible to me. While it was heart wrenching for me, Amiko was probably enjoying this moment.

She started chuckling softly as she manipulated the blades open and shut. After a short moment, I could feel the ponytail being severed as strands of my cut hair began to fall off the ponytail and started framing around my face, about an inch above the shoulders. Amiko continued until the entire ponytail hanged from her hand, which she held in front of me and shook it such that the hair brushed against my face while tears drenched my face.

Using the lever again, the chair was adjusted until my neck laid in the rim of the sink. The water was on and she began to wet my hair with a surprisingly gentle touch. My hair was then lathered with shampoo for several minutes, with a relaxing head massage that I could hardly enjoy due to what had just dramatically occurred earlier. But the washing experience was so gentle and good I actually started to forget that this woman was the same one that had just sheared off most of my beautiful hair.  After conditioning my hair, she roughly squeezed off excess moisture and adjusted me back into an upright position.

Amiko began combing through my remaining length and without a word, combed out a section near my right temple, and snipped it off close to the scalp. Another section was then drawn out and snipped off quickly. This was done repeatedly until she finished off at the left temple. Expecting that she would began cutting the length off the top now, Amiko instead used a hairdryer to dry my hair. “We can’t have wet hair now can we, because we are about to begin your final cut, and it’s going to be real short,” Amiko exclaimed calmly.

I could not understand her intention as she had already chopped off so much of my hair. She rummaged through the drawer behind me once again, and with sounds of a tool being plugged in, Amiko gripped my head tightly this time. The tool snapped alive with a thud, which sounded unfamiliar, and was pushed up the right side of my head. The tool, presumably a pair of clippers, changed tune as it ran through my locks of hair. What was already terribly short was now buzzed close to stubble. I could feel more locks of hair began to tumble down the cape with each stroke from the clippers. Amiko then forcefully pushed my head forward so much that my chin almost touched my chest. The clippers then went up the back of my head, sending more hair cascading down the cape. I could not see how much hair was left, but I could feel the sensation and the cut hair that fell into my lap from my shoulders. The light brown locks looked foreign against the black latex cape and my tears were so abundant right now that it dripped onto the hair amidst the cape.

My head was then tilted towards my right shoulder so that Amiko could buzz off what was left on the left side. The clippers were then finally turned off, but I could heave no sigh of relief. A smaller set was immediately fired up, but had a different tune, which sounded more like a buzz than a whir. She flicked them around the edges of my hairline, as if tapering the edges.

The smaller clippers were then turned off subsequently, when Amiko began spraying the top of my hair with a squirt bottle, since the hair had gotten a bit dry while cutting. The hair on top felt much longer than I had thought as she ran her fingers through it. Amiko combed the entire top section forward, until it hung in my face and even covered my eyes. A section in the very front where a fringe usually lay, was combed up and with a few quick snips, was gone and I could only see more brown, wet locks littering the cape. She repeated the gesture evenly throughout the top,.

“Now now, that is soooo much better, isn’t it Connie?” Amiko rhetorically asked. She rubbed her hands through my hair and snipped as she wanted, before picking up a brush and began to dry my hair. She used the lever once again to rotate me back to face the giant mirror.  My eyes opened wide at how short my hair was. The top was so short, the hair almost stood up on its own without any help from hairstyling products. The sides and back were shaved so short my scalp was clearly visible. I wanted to question her intention behind this, but the stuffing in my mouth prevented me from doing so.

Amiko smirked as she watched my emotions unfold, almost knowingly that my thoughts were about to change. As if the haircut had changed my mindset, I began to feel that the haircut, whilst super short, suited me well. Amiko seemed to share the same thoughts as well. As if learning of my acceptance, Amiko gestured a nod of satisfaction. “I knew you would love your hair short, you just didn’t have the guts to do it,” she said. The gag in my mouth was removed, and placed into the sink.  She then unfastened the cape, which was so heavy my body was already beginning to ache.

I thanked Amiko for the haircut, as she began to undo the straps and belts restraining me to the chair. It was much better than I would have expected. “You will call me Mistress Amiko from now on, my dear,” Amiko said she she unfastened. I nodded meekly as she gave me a silver card while I stood up from the chair. I took the card and walked through the door into the waiting room again. “Call me in eight weeks for a haircut appointment, or I will find you and shave you personally,” said Mistress Amiko as she walked me to the front door. I smiled and walked out into the sidewalk.

As if I just went through a hell of a journey, I ran my fingers through my hair, or what was left of it. It felt so great, the stubbly feeling by the sides and back, and so did the top which felt like short spikes. I turned back to look at the door again, and finally understood what did S&M really meant, and it certainly wasn’t the names of the owners.

We are aware that the author of this story, Jennsen Smith, has shared it with another website as well. We have terminated our partnership and this story has been altered to differentiate with the original version that he has submitted to the other website. We apologise for any inconvenience caused.

Janice & The Express Salon (Chapter 2)

“Next!” the female barber called out towards the waiting bench. Janice appeared slightly startled by the prompt, but quickly knocked back to reality from her worry.

She was caught in a spot with Sam still not back from his comics. “Hell damn those comics Sam,” Janice thought exactly at that moment. With the ticket card still in hand, the nervousity made her slightly break out in cold sweat. The female barber looked on mysteriously as Janice continued to sit on the bench with her repeated prompting.

“Alright, I guess I could use a trim. Can’t let the money go to waste after all,” Janice supposed. She finally gathered her bravery to lift her almost jelly legs, and walked reluctantly over to take a seat at the female barber’s station.

Without question, the barber proceeded to pull out a piece of neck strip from a roll attached to a dispenser at the station. She wrapped the neck strip around Janice’s neck by the front, and lifted up Janice’s auburn locks so that it could be fastened in place. A neatly folded haircutting cape was then taken off the shelf, unfolded, and draped over Janice entirely. Similar to the previous lady, the cape was so huge that Janice’s silhouette was no longer obvious. All that could be seen of Janice was her head of long auburn locks, a gift of her mother’s good genes.

“So miss, what will it be for you?” the female barber began to question while tightening the cape around Janice’s neck. Well, that sure caught Janice in the spot, since this haircut wasn’t her original intent at all. With nothing in mind, Janice responded. “Umm, perhaps just a little off the top?” she meekly spoke.

“Alright, hopefully you won’t regret this,” the female barber retorted. Regret? Janice felt confused by her using that term since there was nothing regretful about getting a trim, or is there?

The female barber grabbed a pair of cordless hair clippers off the shelf, and retrieved a straight comb from her hairdressing pouch. Janice was not surprised by the usage of the hair clippers, since some of the stylists at the salon she frequented used them as well for trims, since the cut would be more even. But what was coming, Janice would never have thought of.

“Bend your head down for me please,” the female barber asked as she positioned herself behind Janice, ready to render her services. Janice bent down as instructed, but nonetheless was forcefully pushed down further with the female barber’s hand, so forward that her chin almost touched the cape.

The hair clippers then snapped alive with a thud, albeit much softer than that of the corded bad boys that the traditional barbers used. Janice was pretty calm, expecting nothing more than a few runs of the hair clippers over the split ends of her auburn locks. Instead, the female barbers parted her hair into several sections, with the top and crown area one section, and the sides and back another. This puzzled Janice, since that is the usual parting for short haircuts. What was the female barber up to?

All soon became clear. As soon as the female barber was done with the sectioning, she lifted Janice’s auburn locks by the back to reveal her neck line. The hair clippers were then pushed straight upwards from the neck line, only stopping short of the partition between the top and the back section! Janice was shocked by the unexpected sensation felt from the clippers, and was sure that certainly was not just a trim!

Clearly Janice was not the one surprised by the move, as the customers that arrived after her and still waiting by the bench, all briefly shifted attention to her as they watched the hair clippers sever her beautiful auburn locks from her scalp. What was left from that one push with the hair clippers were light brown stubble, so short that it probably can’t be combed.

Janice had a brief urge to speak up about that not being what she wanted, but she realised that the damage had already been done. She can only let the female barber finish the shearing. But beneath that obvious intent, Janice also enjoyed the touch of the hair clippers, which was a surprise to her as well. The vibration of the hair clippers while running through her locks was such a stimulating experience, Janice almost got wet below. She held it in nonetheless, with fear of being embarrassed in public.

The female barber pushed the hair clippers through Janice’s locks again, widening the path of brown stubble. Janice’s auburn locks coasted briefly in the air after being clipped, before landing lifelessly on the floor. Even with just two pushes, the floor was already littered with Janice’s clipped locks. The same motion was repeated throughout the backs and sides, bringing the hair in the section to shorter than even an inch, probably a quarter inch at most. Janice’s scalp was partially visible through all the brown stubble. So much hair had already been cut, the floor around Janice’s chair was covered in auburn, and the cape was enveloped with her cut hair as well. She almost sighed at the sight of her precious locks, which she grew so dearly, all chopped off in minutes.

With the sides and back all sheared close to the scalp, Janice was already feeling pretty light-headed. It has been quite long since Janice felt the feeling of having nothing to cover up her face, nothing to frame her facial features. But all this was restored momentarily as the top section was unpinned, letting her remaining long hair down, covering over the shaved sides and back. Janice reached out to touch the sheared back, and the stubbly touch was really such an exciting feeling. But Janice realised that this had to stop, or she would probably be heading home with a crew cut. In the current state, at least she could use the remaining locks in the top section to cover the sides and back, giving some time to grow back out some hair before deciding what she wants to do in the end.

As the barber was about to run the hair clippers over the top with a different guard, Janice quickly signaled for her to stop. The female barber stopped short of an irreversible process, as the clippers were just inches away from Janice’s frontal hairline.

“I think we can stop here,” Janice said again. The immersed crowd by the waiting bench looked almost disappointed upon hearing Janice’s decision, but quickly acted nonchalant to conceal their interest in Janice’s shearing. Fortunately for Janice, she had plenty of hair, enough from the top to cover up the shaved sides and back. The female barber, slightly upset by the fact that she couldn’t give Janice a complete buzz cut, unfastened the cape off Janice, and used the neck strip to wipe off any loose hairs on Janice’s face.

At this moment, Sam appeared around the corner of the express salon. His reflection was spotted by Janice through the reflection, prompting her to turn around and stare straight at Sam in the eyes. What will happen to Sam next, especially after his disappearance caused Janice to lose half her head of hair? Find out how the story continues in the available Chapter 3, or go backwards & check out Chapter 1 if you have not!

Janice & The Express Salon (Chapter 1)

Janice was in her room surfing the internet, enjoying her long deserved semester break after working hard for the past few months. She was chilling in the comfort of her own room, when the door suddenly clicked open. Her mom’s head popped through partially, and Janice knew at once that she needed a favour. She knows her mom too well after all these years.

“Hey Janice, I hope you’re not too busy right now. Do you mind taking Sam to get his haircut? I have plenty of laundry and stuff to attend to right now you see,” she asked, almost in a pleading tone. On first hand, it may seem plausible for Janice to reject, but she knows that if she did so, mom is sure to “repay” the favour somehow next time. Sighing, she consented to her mom’s request, brought Sam and headed out to the nearby mall. Sam was Janice’s younger brother and only aged thirteen then.

As soon as they stepped out of the house, the heat set in. It was summer and the sun was scorching bright. Through the sunshine, even Janice’s dark brown locks seem to glisten in an orange-like shade. With Sam in hand, they walked towards the nearby mall where Sam usually gets his haircuts. In the mall, there is an express salon cum barbershop where haircuts are done for a fixed price, and guaranteed to complete in 10 minutes. Its fuss-free selling point attracted Janice’s mom to bring Sam there all the time.

In less than five minutes, Janice and Sam stepped foot into the mall, and the air conditioning instantly soothed off the summer heat while they were walking earlier. Janice was already soaked up in sweat, especially since her hair was long and covered half of her back. She gathered her hair at the back and lifted it up with one hand, wiping off sweat with the other.

Janice & The Express Salon (Part 1)

After chilling down briefly, Janice wasted no time as she brought Sam over to the express salon. At the entrance, Janice saw that all the barbers (cum hairdressers) were occupied with customers at the moment. While these express salons cater to men and women, the majority of their customer base are males. It was no different looking at this visit, as most of the customers getting their haircuts were guys too.

As Janice walked in with Sam, a young lady with long jet-black hair entered at the same time. Out of courtesy, Janice prompted for her to go ahead and get the ticket first. The tickets were bought from an automated machine at the corner of the salon. After Janice bought a ticket for Sam, she noticed that the lady was sitting on the bench already. Knowing that the order that the customers sit at the bench determines the queue, Janice prompted Sam to take a seat beside the lady.

“Sis, is it okay if I go check out the comics from the bookstore nearby? I promise I will be back in less than ten,” Sam asked Janice.  Already slightly upset that she had to be mom’s replacement for bringing Sam here for a haircut, she was very reluctant to agree to his request. However, Sam repeatedly pleaded and Janice finally agreed to avoid looking like a mean sister in front of everyone.

With Sam gone for the moment, the seat beside the lady was vacated. Janice had to step in and queue on behalf of Sam while he was away. While she sat, there was nothing much to do but observe the haircuts going on. Sitting at the chair directly in front of the bench was a young man, whom was getting a pretty big change. The male barber was swiftly working on his hair, chopping off inches of his hair. This was evident as the white cape plastered with the express salon’s logo was littered with his hair, especially on the shoulders.

After a brief moment, the man’s haircut was finished and he headed off while the barber quickly tidied the area, swiping the floor around the chair quickly and cleaned his haircutting tools. The barber then signalled for the lady beside Janice to take a seat at his chair. Janice moved over to take a seat at the lady’s place on the bench so as not to obstruct the queue, especially since there were more customers queuing behind Janice already.

As the lady took a seat, Janice began to turn anxious as Sam’s turn was next and he was not back yet. Flustered, there was nothing she could do because she couldn’t leave her place to find Sam. If she did, Sam would have to queue up all over again and it would take up too much time. She prayed desperately in her mind that Sam quickly came back while she continued to sit on the bench.

Trying to keep calm, she decided to focus on the lady who just took a seat at the male barber’s chair. The barber pulled out a neck strip from a dispenser on the shelf beside the large mirror, and wrapped it around the lady’s neck. It was sealed tightly by the back of her neck with a blue-coloured adhesive that was part of the neck strip. The barber then pulled out a haircutting cape off the shelf and skilfully tossed the cape over the lady, draping her entire body and fastening it tightly around her neck as well. The cape was so huge that the lady’s slim silhouette could no longer be seen, except for her high heels that rested on the footrest which peered through slightly from beneath the cape.

Without waiting for the barber to prompt, the lady spoke up and instructed him on how she wanted her haircut. “Give me a classic one-length bob, and thick straight bangs,” the lady instructed the barber. Upon hearing her instructions, the barber looked surprised and so was Janice! She had such beautiful hair and she actually wanted to cut it off.

The barber acknowledged the lady’s desire, and reached for a pair of cordless clippers off the shelf. He unplugged the guard off the clippers, and gave the blades a good swipe with a brush. With the clippers in one hand, he gently lowered the lady’s head forward with the other so that it was easier for him to cut her hair. The lady’s head was lowered till the point where her chin almost touched her chest. The clippers then came alive with a thud. The barber gave the lady’s jet-black locks its final few moments by combing through them a couple more times; it will take the lady a long time before she can comb through such long hair again. With the hair neatened out from the combing, the barber pressed the clippers on the lady’s locks at the nape area in a straight line! It was simultaneous but Janice could catch a clear glimpse as the lady’s locks were sheared off by the clippers’ blades. The sheared locks dislodged from the lady’s remaining hair, and descended to rest on the salon’s floor.

With the back done, the barber moved to her left, obstructing Janice’s view briefly. When the barber was done and moved to work on the other side, she was shocked as she realised that the long locks that framed the lady’s face were gone! What was left was hair that rested at chin-length, allowing the lady’s jawbone and part of her ear to be visible with the hair now gone. Evidence of the cut was obvious as long jet-black locks could be seen resting in the lady’s lap on the cape.

The barber then tilted the chair slightly so that he could position himself facing the lady’s face. He combed down the hair at the frontal hairline, which temporarily covered the lady’s face. He then pressed the clippers fearlessly just above the eyebrows, sending a thick pile of hair plunging down the cape, adding on to the pile of hair already present on the lady’s lap.

With that, the lady’s haircut was almost done and the male barber was almost finished as he proceeded to use the air washer to clean off the loose hairs for the lady. At this moment, a female barber working on a customer seated a chair away from the lady was almost done as well. The customer was already on his feet and strolling off as the female barber cleaned up her station.

What Janice feared most was going to happen. Sam was not back yet at this moment. How will Janice cope with the situation? Check out the following chapters to find out how the story will eventually end!

A Decade Later

The door clicked open on the 3rd knock, and I was welcomed by mum who appeared from behind the door.

Upon first sight, it seems as though time has stolen a part of her. Most of her hair had turned white, and she seemed frailer than the last time I saw her.

Realistically though, this should have been expected. It’s been almost ten years since we last met. As a member of an expedition team exploring the Aleutian Islands back at Alaska, the opportunity was too rare to miss and we had to finish the exploration & research all at one go. And in return, most of the team spent a decade living on that island.

Back to the meeting of my mum for the first time in ten years, it was emotional and we embraced each other tightly. We have never been closer, more so since dad passed away fifteen years ago to cancer.

Mum led me in, where she had already prepared dinner ahead of time, knowing that I will be back today. We sat down, enjoyed the wide spread, and shared stories about our lives for the past decade.

It was also then, she saw that my hair had grown out significantly. Before I went with the expedition team to the islands, I always kept my hair cropped short, especially with the local weather being so humid and unforgivingly warm.

“You know girl, maybe you should get your hair fixed up while back in town. The weather’s been pretty nasty these days,” she finally commented after a long stare at my curly locks. I reached up to caress my unruly mane, and she may have been right. The prolonged neglecting of my hair has resulted in loads of split ends and I could even feel certain areas were quite fried as well. It was inevitable as I had to flat iron my hair straight most of the days back then, to keep it simple to upkeep at the islands.

I told mum that I would consider it, and brought the topic to an abrupt close, before continuing to talk about the volcanic explorations which I made back at the Aleutian Islands.

Bloated from the meal, I offered to bring mum out for a stroll by the downtown stretch of stores. It would also be a good time to catch up with the changes in town, since I’ve been gone for so long.

“Nah, it’s alright. You go ahead, age is catching up for this old lady here,” mum said in response, using a casual tone. I nodded and did not want to ask her further.

I changed into a casual top and jeans, before making my way downtown.

As I strolled along the pathway, checking out the new stores that had appeared while I was away, a barbershop could be seen not far away down the road. Curious, I walked over and peered through the windows.

Several blacks could be seen inside, working on their customers, all draped in black barbering capes. I was mesmerised, and at the same time reminded of my mum’s suggestion earlier. Perhaps, it was the time to lose the mane.

Without further thought, I pushed open the door by the side of the glass window, and stepped onto the checkered tiles inside the barbershop.

Upon my entrance, the barbers turned over and appeared to be shocked briefly. This was expected, since barbershops serve mostly male customers. Nonetheless, it was a short moment of awkwardness before they went back to business.

Just then, a barber stood up and guided me to the chair closest to the entrance. He had a neatly trimmed beard, and wore a trendy cap to mask his receded hair line.

Female Hair Tattoo by Barber 1

He proceeded to place one of the barber capes on my lap, and tore a piece of neck strip off a roll, wrapping it around my neck. The cape was then pulled up, and draped partially over the neck strip, and fastened tightly by the back of my neck. The visible part of the neck strip was then folded down over the cape. This was a first-time experience for me as neck strips were never used on me before when I got my haircuts in salons back in the days.

As he prepped his haircutting tools, I noticed that I haven’t thought about what I would want to do with my hair. In such a masculine environment, I suddenly recalled my past moments with my dad, and realised that I have never done anything much for him, or in fact with him. It was then I thought that, perhaps I could do something in memory of my dad.

This was then a perfect idea came to mind.

The barber then timely popped the question. “So lady, what’s it for you today, a trim perhaps?” He asked.

“No, just take it all off,” I told him instead. He looked surprised, but did not question further. “I’m going to use the No. 2 guard so that there will be stubble left to cover the scalp from showing through,” was all he said before he prepared to begin the chop.

He picked a pair of clippers hooked up beneath the attached shelf, and oiled it with a bottle off the table. It was then turned on with a thud, probably to test if it is working smoothly, before it was switched off again.

When all was set, he was now standing behind me, and straightened out the cape over the chair corners, to ensure that the loose hairs won’t fall through onto my clothes.

The clippers came back to life, as the barber combed from the crown down to my nape. The teeth of the hair clippers touched my nape, and changed tones as he directed it upwards, only stopping short of the crown. The clipped hair accumulated on the clipper teeth as it was pushed upwards, and was swiped off onto the tiled floor with the barber’s motion. All that was left in the mown path up the nape was short stubbly hairs.

With the ceremonial clipping done, he pushed my head forward, putting my chin close to my chest. More passes were made up my nape with the clippers, sending locks of my curly hair cascading down my shoulders, gathering at my lap above the cape. The mild vibrations of the clipper blades running over my scalp were strangely arousing.

Female Hair Tattoo by Barber 2

As all the bulk was removed off the back, he shifted my head back upright. He pushed the clippers over my ears, and began to hold onto the clipped locks. The clippers then ran up my sides and over the temples. He was now gripping onto a huge pile of my locks which were freshly cropped.

Female Hair Tattoo by Barber 3

To finish off the chop, with the bulk of collected locks still in hand, the barber placed the clippers at my crown, and pushed it forward. The tresses that were sheared off the top added onto the already large pile.

As he made the final few swipes over the top, the last lock of my long curly hair was released from my head. The barber then tossed the mound of hair collected onto my lap. There was so much hair I could barely see the cape anymore beneath the locks. It felt liberating to be rid of all that hair.

Female Hair Tattoo by Barber 4

I reached up from beneath the cape to caress my new stubbly head of hair, and oh it have never felt so good, never when I had that thick pile of locks covering over my head.

Satisfied with my new look, I gave the barber an approving nod, and he proceeded to unfasten the cape off me. The used neck strip was then used to clean off any stray hairs by my nape.

I stood up from the cosy barber chair, feeling lighter than ever. I handed the barber a 50 dollar bill, and told him to keep the change. He thanked me for the generosity, and welcomed me back anytime for another round of shearing. I smiled.

Alyssa’s Mystery

Disclaimer: This story contains sexual content. Please be advised for all readers below 18 years of age.

Alyssa awoke prematurely, oblivious to what have happened previously that caused her unconsciousness. The young lady, dressed in what seemed like a maid outfit, had been trying to wake Alyssa up, but to no avail. She finally succeeded with a slightly overpowered kick to Alyssa’s thigh.

Alyssa rose, now awake from her unnaturally caused slumber. Still slightly drowsy, she could barely make out the face of the girl who had awakened her, but saw a nametag on her which says Mary.  It was also then did she realise that she had completely no idea where she was.

Alyssa's Mystery - Scene 1

The surroundings looked dilapidated, and only dim light managed to shine through the window grills. There were salon equipment, such as styling chairs and mirrors in the room she was as well.

“Don’t be afraid. Just let me do what they want to you. They just want a good show,” Mary now spoke, with short pauses in between each sentence.

Alyssa could barely process what the lady had preached, before she pulled her up to stand on her feet. She then gestured for Alyssa to take a seat on the nearby salon chair.

Alyssa's Mystery - Scene 2

She was hesitant to obey her orders, but decided to do as she says at the moment. Alyssa took heavy, reluctant steps towards the chair, before sitting down, resting her feet on the movable footrest.

As soon as she sat, Alyssa quickly regretted her decision as the lady spared no time in taking action. With hardly any time to react, the lady had already tied her ankle to the footrest with thick rope, allowing minimal movement of her feet. She tried to struggle, but was in futile as the lady pushed her back into place. The handcuffs appeared to tame Alyssa, and her hands were now cuffed in place, leaving her helpless.

“Do as I say, or the boss won’t be happy. And when he isn’t happy, you wouldn’t want to know what happens then,” was the stern warning Mary served before she walked over to a nearby station.

While she seemed busy picking out what looked to be haircutting tools, Alyssa knew she had to do something. She tried to pull on the handcuffs, and see if it gave way. It didn’t. But it sure did rouse the attention of the lady.

With the tools now in hand, she walked back over, obviously displeased at Alyssa’s disposition. “You see that over there? It’s a camera, the boss is watching you,” Mary warned again, pointing to a device affixed to a corner of the wall top.

Just then, their one-sided conversation was interrupted, when a similar maid-like figure appeared from the only door. She was dragging along a lady by a rope, which tied up her hands. She was forced down onto the other salon chair in the room, and was quickly tied up as Alyssa was in a similar fashion.

Alyssa-s Mystery - Victim

But it didn’t stop there. Something similar to a torture brank was fitted into her mouth, leaving it wide open, and stopping her from conversing at the same time. A brown hairdressing cape was then laid over her, and fastened tightly around her shoulders.

The maid-like figure adjusted the chair’s backrest slightly, and reached for a pair of hair clippers that were already laying on the nearby table, as if on standby.

Alyssa's Mystery - Alyssa

The clippers turned on with a thud, and were mercilessly pushed down the middle of the lady’s forehead. Alyssa could watch no longer, on the brink of tears as she feared a similar fate.

“See that woman over there? She didn’t cooperate as we had wished, so we had to use some… additional measures to keep her in check,” Mary explained while standing by my side, watching the show.

That being said, Alyssa lost all hope, and resigned to the wishes of the lady. There was no more struggling, only submission.

“If you are a good girl, the boss may just let you go after this is done. But if you don’t follow, this may drag on for a while, and I’m sure that is not your wish,” she further commented.

The one-sided conversation then came to an end, as she reached for a similar brown hairdressing cape, and draped it over Alyssa, fastening it snuggly around her neck.

“Lift your legs, and place them over the sides of the chair,” Mary commanded. Alyssa obeyed, spreading them as far apart as the tight rope allows.

Mary lifted the cape, which curtained down to Alyssa’s ankle previously. It was lifted all the way up to her upper body, and folded so that it didn’t fall back down. Mary took a pair of haircutting scissors, and snipped Alyssa’s tube top dress down the middle at the bottom, all the way up to as far as the cape reveals. Alyssa’s thick mound of curly pubes were now in full exposure.

Alyssa was afraid of what is going to happen, but took it in as she knew this was her only way to survive this cursed fate.

“Wow, you go the no-maintenance style down there, don’t you?” Mary commented, obviously referring to Alyssa’s pubes which she left unkempt throughout her life.

Mary then reached for a pair of clippers, turning it on with a loud thud. For some unknown reason, this one sounded much more menacing as compared to the other lady’s.

The clippers touched Alyssa’s privates, and sent cold shivers down Alyssa’s spine. But the vibrations, oh it was arousing. So arousing Alyssa had to hold it all in, afraid to cum, especially in such undesirable scenarios.

The clippers made quick work as Mary made several passes around the vulva, and subsequently cleaning up the entire private area. The accumulated pubes were then swept off her privates with Mary’s hands, sending them down onto the floor. All that remained was thin stubble that felt like soft bristles when caressed.

“Good girl, now we are done with step one. If you do well for the next round, the boss may just agree to let you go,” Mary remarked.

The cape was pulled back down, once again covering all the way down to Alyssa’s ankles. For some reason, Alyssa felt like a sheep, waiting to be shorn by her shepherd, Mary.

The clippers turned back on again, and this time approached Alyssa’s hair. She longed to reach and caress her long, luscious curls, but it was impossible. Mary used the other hand to move away the locks covering Alyssa’s hairline at the front. The clippers were then plunged down the centre, and pushed all the way until the crown area. The clippers had mowed the hair in its path, revealing Alyssa’s scalp in the area it shorn.

Mary then continued to make several more passes, dislodging most of Alyssa’s locks down her back. Some of the hair fell towards the front, cascading down Alyssa’s shoulders, and laid lifeless on her lap now.

Mary repositioned herself now to Alyssa’s left, and pushed the clippers ruthlessly up towards her temple, sending all her clipped locks down the cape, and quickly gathering into a reasonably large pile. Alyssa held back her tears as she watch Mary take away the hair she had painstakingly grown over the past few years.

The hair on Alyssa’ right temple was chopped off in a similar fashion, before Mary worked on the back, pushing the clippers up from nape to crown. Alyssa was already beginning to feel light-headed, with all her hair now shaved off.

After Mary made a final few passes to ensure all hair was shaved off, she used a brush to sweep around Alyssa’s neck, before the cape was unfastened.

Alyssa watched as the pile of her hair previously on the cape was swept off the cape, and laid lifelessly on the floor now. The years of growth, now all gone.

Before Alyssa knew what was coming next, her head was covered up, and knocked unconscious once again.

When she awoke, she found herself by the front gates of her home, still donning the same tube top dress which was cut apart by Mary.

She reached up to check if her long curly locks were still there, but they were nowhere to be found. It wasn’t a dream that Mary had shaved off all her pubes and long hair.

What exactly happened, remains a mystery. A mystery that Alyssa will never solve.

Beautiful Mistake

The lift door opened, and I paced towards the apartment’s door. As I reached for my keys within my skinny’s left pocket, the phone vibrated. I lose grip of the keys temporarily and checked the phone.

‘Hey babe, will be flying in early morning tomorrow to meet you. See you.’ The message reads. The first thought that came to mind was oh my god. My man was flying in to meet me, and tomorrow morning at that?

It took me moments to ease my shock, but excitement soon followed. It’s been months since we had met. I had been living as an expat in this country since I graduated last year, as I didn’t qualify for a local university back home.

Speaking of meeting him, I should make myself presentable for the occasion tomorrow. After all, it was going to be a rare opportunity to be able to meet him at this time of the year.

I went into the apartment, and headed for my room. Sitting down in front of the dressing table, I pondered over what to wear for tomorrow. As I inspected each dress, nothing seemed to match well. Have I matured too much to fit in these dresses? I wondered.

It was then I noticed how much I have neglected my tresses. It was long, very long at that. Halfway down my back, it bore a darkish brown colour naturally and was quite straight. However, months of mistreatment due to school has led to my hair becoming unkempt and ruffled. I combed through from root to tip, and pulled several times at tangles. Ouch.

Realisation sat in. I had to do something about my hair. I checked the mini clock placed beside the dressing table. 7.30PM. It was already reasonably dark outside.

I grabbed my purse and headed out. Strolling along the shop houses lain across the apartments, I bore hopes that a salon was still open to accommodate me.

As I walked along the pavements, checking the shops for an open salon, it seemed as if all hopes were lost. Almost all the shops had closed for the day, and the earliest they would have opened again was tomorrow morning.

Miraculously, as I was about to make a turn and head back to the apartment, drowned in disappointment, I spotted dim lights emerging from one of the shop windows not far ahead. I prayed it was a hair salon. It had to be one.

My prayers were answered. Well, partially. As I reached the shop entrance, I realised it was one of the traditional hair salons, usually owned by the older generations. They serve primarily the seniors, and I wasn’t exactly sure it fitted my description of a hair salon.

I made another time-check at my watch. 8.00PM. ‘It’s all or nothing girl,’ I thought to myself. I wandered around the entrance briefly, trying to shrug off the nervousness. Eventually, I bucked up enough courage and made a push at the salon door. It shrieked slightly as I pushed.

Traditional Hair Salon

Once inside, I felt almost perplexed by the scene. There were two females working on their clients’ hair. Simple black chairs face wide mirrors covering both sides of the salon. On one side, an elderly woman was getting her hair trimmed by one of the female hairdressers. The other client was strangely a young lady getting a haircut on the other side, served by the other hairdresser.

I was pretty native to the looks of the salon equipment used here, as they looked like they were from the last era, so much that I could hardly decipher the modern equivalent. I decided not to pay too much attention, and took a seat at one of the chairs beside the young lady, unofficially branding it the ‘younger zone’.

Before long, the elderly woman was done and off after making payment. The plump hairdresser turned over and exchanged looks with me through the mirror. The barrier of language immediately hindered the conversation. With my modest grasp of chinese, I took out my phone, pulled out a photo of Anne Hathaway with gorgeous soft curls, and explained what I wanted. She smiled, as if understanding what I was going for. I certainly hoped so.

She pushed a salon trolley loaded with equipment and solutions over to my side, and reached for a hairdressing cape. The cape was draped over me, and fastened snuggly around my neck. She even reached forward to pull the cape over to cover my legs completey. For a moment, it felt like the experience was going to be a great one.

Rollers were then instantly used on my locks, and were all rolled up close to my head after tying a perm paper onto each roller. She worked quickly as the work was done in less than fifteen minutes, or perhaps I had too little hair. I worried as I did not remember having rollers placed so close to my scalp for loose curls. Nevertheless, I realised it was too late to turn back, and went ahead with the perm. She added the perm solution between the rollers, and excused herself briefly while it worked its magic.

With nothing on hand to read or such, I took to observing the haircut going on beside me discreetly. The female snipped off a couple of inches across, and was slowly building into a sleek pixie cut. Perhaps I had been mistaken in judging these hairdressers too early. After all, don’t the older generations have more experience?

All these thoughts were fully withdrawn, the moment I saw the mess the hairdresser had made of my hair. After she removed the rollers and brought me for a shampoo to rinse off the solution, I saw how tight the curls were! They looked just short of corkscrew curls, and I stared in disbelief at the monstrosity I had become. My waist-length hair was now reduced to a bunch of curls that barely touched my shoulders, many thanks to the hairdresser’s work.

But this was not the time for blame. I had to do something to salvage the situation. With my terrible chinese, I blurted out broken messages of ‘No! Wash away!’ to her. She looked confused at what I was trying to get at, but somehow got part of my message. She brought me back to the washing basin, and shampooed my hair twice to try and rinse out the tightness of the curls since the perm solution had just taken effect not long ago. There might still be hope.

After an excessive dosage of shampoo to my pre-damaged tresses, the salvaging session concluded as she wiped dry my hair, and led me back to the chair. Fortunately and unfortunately, the curls were no longer as tight, but were no longer its previous glory as well. It However, it looked nowhere near presentable. Furthermore, the perm solution had done its toll to my hair. Coupled with the multiple rinses of shampoo, the ends of my hair looked fried, and rough to the touch.

I pointed out the damaged area to her, but she simply shaked her head, as if meaning that it was a gone case. Looks like the length has to go.

She reached for a pair of haircutting scissors off the front table, and detangled the gentler curls with her comb. Upon the last comb, snipping sounds were heard. And it was done. In a matter of seconds, the years I painstakingly took to grow out my hair were wasted.

The hairdresser unfastened the cape off me, and looked upset as she seemed to realise that the curls were not to my expectations. I figured that it wouldn’t be right to blame her solely for the mistake, and thus paid her for the services, which she accepted humbly.

I left the salon, and the emotions started to set in. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I come to terms with the fact that my hair was now nothing but ruined. Out of the blue, my phone rang.

I checked the caller, and realised it was my roommate, Sandy. I wiped my eyes dry quickly and held in the tears, before getting to the call. ‘Hey Sandy, what’s up?’ I said in a teary tone.

With the many years of friendship between Sandy and I, nothing could be hidden well enough to be undetected by her. As she probed about what had happened, I came clean on the entire story. She consoled me and offered to call one of her friends, who was a hairdresser living here as an expat. I initially rejected Sandy’s offer for fears of another screw-up, but reluctantly agreed to meet the friend after much persuasion.

Sandy had arranged for the friend, Jane to meet at our apartment in thirty minutes, and so made my way back to the apartment as fast as possible. By the time I reached, Jane was already there with Sandy. She was a beautiful woman, with strawberry blonde hair tied up in a loose ponytail, and dressed casually in a pale pink tee.

We skipped the pleasantries, knowing how dire my situation was. Jane told me to sit in front of the dressing table, and began to consult me on the possible options. ‘Well, we are quite limited in options here. The perm solution has damaged your hair too much, so it is not possible to straighten it back right now. We could take it to a chin-length bob, but it wouldn’t be the prime solution. Another option is to take it all off, perhaps with a #4 blade on the clippers. That would be best.’ Jane advised.

Chin-length bob of curls or shear it all off down to half an inch. Both sounded pretty extreme to me. But if I had to make a choice, then certainly the buzzcut. I knew the curls had to come off today, by hook or by crook. With my mind set, I was ready for it. ‘Take it all off then.’ I answered Jane.

Certainly, Jane obliged. She reached for her hairdressing kit, and took out a hairdressing cape. It was cute and funky with a scissors pattern, something one does not usually see at the hair salons. As part of standard procedure, the cape was thrown over me, and tightened around my neck. Jane made sure it was firm enough so that the shorn locks wouldn’t slip through onto my clothes.

The clippers were plugged into the socket by the table, and turned on with a thud. Jane gave the unguarded blades a few swipes from a brush and offed it briefly to attach the #4 blade.

It roared alive once again, this time the sound closer to my ears. Jane combed out the curls at my back briefly, before making the first move. The clippers changed tunes as it plunged into the thick curls, and stopped short of the crown. Jane repeated the motion several times, dislodging all the curls at my nape up to the crown section, sending them falling to the floor.

Female Buzzcut

Jane then shifted the shearing gradually, directing the motion towards my right. She pulled down my ear gently so that the clipper blade can reach the areas covered behind the ear. The clippers then ran up my side, past the temple area, all the way up to the parietal ridge. The shorn locks cascaded down the cape, and gathered on my lap. I tried not to pay too much attention to it.

She then subsequently switched sides, and let the clippers sever off the curls on my left. All that was left now was the crown section. Jane combed back the tresses from the front so that she could see my hairline. Placing the clippers at my hairline, she pushed it back straight, sending a huge pile of my hair down to the floor. I looked hilarious, as if a lawn mower had just ran past the centre of my head. Jane made quick work of the remaining curls, shaving them down to half an inch with her trusty clippers.

The shearing process was officially ended, as I greeted my super short hair via the small mirror by the table. I reached up to caress my new buzzcut. While it was very short, it felt soft and nice to touch. Both Sandy and Jane commended me for taking it all off and that it accentuated my facial features better now. I not only felt beautiful, I thought I looked beautiful.

The next day arrived quickly, and I met him at the airport. He couldn’t recognise me. As I shouted for his name and we exchanged gazes, he looked surprised, but quickly smiled brightly upon noticing my awesome hair makeover. He lifted my up on his arm, and caressed my hair in the other. He must have loved seeing me in super short hair. We had a great night that day, bringing the dramatic story about my hair disaster to its end.