HaircuttingStories.com

'You were only supposed to be five minutes' I chided.

Anton looked round from the computer screen and shrugged his shoulders in that way of his.

'There's so much. You said you wanted ideas for next week and that's what I'm looking for. It's not as if I've been sitting here looking at shoes. I've been looking for styles and there's a lot of them. He got up in that primadonna way of his that irritated me so at times like this. Be gay if you want, but don't do all that drama-queen stuff every time someone disagrees with you!

I had asked Anton to find some quirky hair styles that we could use in a show the following week and he had gone off to use the computer in my office. That had been two clients ago and when I went to see whether he had died, I found him absorbed in the task. It was only when I looked more closely that I saw how many different sites he had been looking at. Not all of them with pictures as one of them seemed to have amateur stories about haircutting. I flicked through the pages and was amazed at what I saw. Women with short hair, women with long hair hacked off with little skill or ceremony, women with shaved heads, all manner of stuff that I would never have considered.

The door opened and Anton came back in.

'Christina, I should apologise' he said.

I looked at him. He had put on his puppy face that made it difficult to be mad at him for any length of time. He knew just how to play me!

'Look Anton, I needed you downstairs, not up here.'

'But there's so much' he protested again.

'How much of this is relevant? How can a story be of any use to me? Do you think I do hack-jobs, is that why you were looking at this stuff? I've worked my backside off for fifteen years and you think I'd be interested in this trash?' I asked, my voice starting to rise.

'Christina, I've said I'm sorry' he said.

I tried to control myself, but seeing some of those things just made me angry. I had worked hard to create a name as a hairdresser with avant-garde ideas, doing things that other hairdressers didn't tend to do and here was a bunch of amateurs hacking chunks off women's hair and pretending that it had something to do with hairdressing. The semi-nudity in some of the pictures underlined for me that it was more about some sort of fetish than hairdressing.

'Forget it, I'll come up with my own ideas. And as a punishment, you can take Mrs Freeman when she comes in' I said. I knew that he hated doing her hair as she was so picky, but I was in no mood to indulge him by taking her myself this time. I heard the door shut behind me.

It upset me to shout at Anton. We had worked together for five years or so and really complemented each other. He was very camp, but I had no problem with that. There were even some of my clients who asked for him purely because he was camp and they thought he was gay. For some reason they thought that he would understand them more than I could as a simple woman! He brought custom, he was good and that was all that I worried about. I'm not sure if he was practising or not, but I do know that the other girls had seen him in the local clubs from time to time and said that he was a great dancer. That settled it then!  

I made myself a cup of tea so that I could calm down before I went back into the salon. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I flicked through some of the pages again. There were little films of women getting their heads shaved for charity, often quite attractive women and middle aged woman who I wouldn't have expected to go for that sort of thing. Students, yes, that was the sort of thing that they would do just to shock their parents, but why would a forty-something do it, I wondered. I looked at more of the films once I had my tea. I was watching the haircutting 'skills' of some of the hairdressers and wondered whether they had ever had a day's tuition in their life. This was my profession that they were denigrating! I looked at a couple more and started to realise that I was looking at them from the wrong angle. There were videos there from real professionals, but the amateur films weren't done from an educational perspective. There was something else. It was people getting pleasure out of the act of a haircut, pleasure that was described in some of those stories. I stroked my own long blonde hair, tracing the layers that Bernie cut for me last week.

There was a knock at the door. I had fallen under the same spell as Anton and now had an impatient customer waiting for me downstairs. I rushed off to deal with that, knowing that I would return to my office later. In the end, I was at the salon long after Anton and everybody else had gone. I sat with more tea, looking at more and more videos, my reactions still tempered by the annoyance at what was being done to the profession that I cherished. Time and again I went back to the stories to remind myself that most of these people were doing what they did to satisfy basic urges. It turned them on, pure and simple. I gathered the ideas that I needed for work and looked at a last couple of videos before calling it a night.

The following day Anton came and apologised again as soon as he got into work. I had calmed down by that time and quite understood how the time had run away from him. 

'Did you look at any of that stuff?' he asked eventually.

'I glanced at a couple of the pages you had open' I lied, thinking about the number of new sites that I had found along the way.

'Some of those things were quite sexy, don't you think?' he asked, looking at me intently for my reaction.

'Most of what I saw annoyed me because it was so amateurish' I said, rather haughtily.

'But that's just the point of a lot of them. They're for charity, they're couples, people who have never tried anything like that before.

'They offended me!' I said, hoping to put an end to the discussion.

'Didn't any of them excite you, just a little bit?' he teased.

'In what way?' I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

'Didn't it turn you on, seeing some of those videos?' he persisted.

'I can cut hair any time that I want. Why should that turn me on?' I challenged.

'It's the vibe around the haircut. You can almost feel the tension between some of those people' he said.

'Now you're just being silly. They were people doing something for charity' I said, referring to the ones that I saw first of all.

'Not all of them were charity ones' he said.

'Perhaps not, but I need to get on' I said, wanting to bring the discussion to a close.

The morning passed without incident and it was mid-afternoon before Anton and I spoke again. He brought me a cup of tea while the salon was quiet.

'Do you think it would suit me?' he asked as he put the cup down.

'What?' I asked.

'Cutting my hair' he said.

'I suppose so. You've worn your hair like that for a good while now. A change would probably do you good' I replied looking at him with his tousled jet-black hair which complimented his slightly Bohemian look perfectly. He shrugged his shoulders, picked up his cup and went off up the stairs to the break-room. I went back to my book, hoping that the afternoon would pick up a little. The door opened before I had a chance to finish my drink and I got up, eager to get to this walk-in before anyone else did. I hated sitting around.

Come closing time, the other two stylists packed up their things and left. I was just cashing up when Anton came down the stairs.

'I don't suppose that you have time to cut me before you go, do you Christina?' he asked.

I shushed him, so as not to interrupt my count and waited until I had finished before looking at him again.

'If you want' I replied. After all, I had nothing planned except for a bath and a glass of wine in front of the tv. He went and sat down on one of the styling chairs to wait for me to finish. By the time I counted the last bag of coins, he had put a gown over himself in readiness.

'What are we doing to your gypsy curls then?' I asked.

'It's time for them to go' he replied.

'Are you sure?' I asked. 

'Time for a change' he said, trying to sound confident.

'How short do you want to go?' I asked, thinking that I would actually like to cut those curls off for him to stop him preening in front of the mirror quite so much.

'All off' he said curtly.

'All off, that's as much guidance as you're going to give me?' I said.

'All off' he repeated.

I teased out one of his curls with my thumb and forefinger and reached into my pocket for my scissors. I held the blades of the scissors at the end of the tress and started to move them down towards his scalp.

'Tell me when to stop' I said.

He was silent and the blades reached his scalp after their slow descent.

'Is this because of those videos' I asked, looking at him in the mirror.

'I think it will be exciting' he said without answering my question. I slid the scissors back into my pocket and unhooked a set of clippers from the bench. I picked a guard from the selection and fitted it over the blades.

'Sure?' I asked.

'Do it' he said quickly.

With that I ran the clippers up behind his ear before flicking the hair that I had harvested onto the floor. A path of number three length hair lay there, flanked by his remaining dark curls that were trying to cover up what had just been done. I cleared another couple of paths at the back before moving in front of his ear and then sweeping the clippers over the top of his head. I actually enjoyed doing that, wondering what his friends at the clubs would say when they saw him with this pelt of dark hair rather than his halo of curls. I started on another pass over his crown.

'That's a bit long' he said.

'It's a three' I informed him.

'I was thinking shorter' he replied.

'I can cut it shorter, no problem. The area where I struggle is mind-reading' I replied with a smile.

'One' he said, strangely mono-syllabic for somebody who was usually so quick to amuse with endless anecdotes. I shrugged.

'You're really going for it, aren't you' I said, swapping the guards on the clippers.

This time I didn't ask him if he was sure. I ran the clippers across the area on his crown that  had already cut, marvelling at the difference in length on his head. Usually when I clippered someone it was just a chore, but this time it was someone that I knew so well. I wondered how the change in hairstyle would affect the way that the world saw him. I cut another path and another, glimpsing him in the mirror to see his reaction.

'Do it without the guard' he said, interrupting my rhythm. I looked at him, clippers poised in mid-stroke.

I didn't need to ask him again if it was as a result of those videos. What he had seen had excited him or intrigued him at the very least and he wanted to try it for himself. I slid the guard off and my next stroke created a bald strip across his scalp. There was something satisfying in this, I started to think, when my thought was interrupted by a movement under the cape. It took me a moment to realise what was happening.

'Anton!' I chided. 'If you're doing what I think you're doing, stop it now' I said sternly.

'I'm covered up' he protested.

'Put it away or I'm out of here. I said. 'How can you sit there jerking off while I'm cutting your hair?' I added.

'Don't you find it a little bit exciting?' he asked.

'I'll cut it off if you don't put it away' I said sternly.

I saw a bit of fumbling going on beneath the cape.

'Done?' I asked. He nodded and I carried on.

I got back to business, trying to concentrate on the task in hand, but I struggled to put aside the notion of a man playing with himself while having his hair cut. The videos had intrigued me and then excited me once I had dismissed my pre-conceptions, but I hadn't been excited by them to that extent. It was obviously different for Anton who had been sufficiently excited to want to try it for himself and then sufficiently excited to play with himself while his boss cut his hair!

'There' I said, rubbing the top of his head with my hand. He looked so different without his mop of curls that I would have struggled to recognise him if I had seen him out of the salon. He reached up and rubbed his hand over his head as I had just done.

'Will you shave it for me, Christina?' he asked.

'Really?' I asked.

'I want to see what it feels like to be smooth' he replied.

'I suppose it just feels smooth' I replied, struggling to avoid the obvious sarcastic comeback. I looked at him for a moment.

'Alright' I said, turning to get the shaving foam from the store cupboard. I was back quickly, safety razor and can of foam in hand. I had never really considered myself much good at shaving with a razor. It always seemed to me that it should be a male preserve, but I could see how it would be difficult for someone unused to shaving their own head. I squirted a generous dollop of foam directly on to his scalp and started to spread it around. I saw the tell-tale movement under the cape again. Anton had taken advantage of my brief absence to liberate himself once more.

'Anton, please, put it away!' I said.

'Please, just this once, it's more comfortable' he said. I sighed and tried to ignore the fact that there was only a thin piece of material between me and Anton's erection. I would have had to be the strictest of zealots to deny that it wasn't an arousing situation. I started to shave his head with the lightest strokes that I could manage. I thought about those films that I had seen, some just of clipper shaving, but some with razor shaving too. We had probably missed a trick here by not recording Anton's first foray into the world of the hair fetishist, but I am sure that he had mulled over the possibility of filming the event. I wanted to ask him, but I didn't want to break his concentration. I stroked gently with the razor and from the tiny movements under the gown, he was doing some gentle stroking of his own. I thought about what a waste it was that I would go home to an empty house when I had finished and he would probably go clubbing to show himself off to his friends.

I finished shaving him and whilst I had intended to go over it for a second time, I decided against it. I lifted the towel from around his shoulders and wrapped it around his head.

'That's it, you're done' I said. 'I'm off home, so make sure you clean up when you've finished' I said, heading for reception where I had left my bag.

'Christina!' he called after me. 

I didn't turn around and just picked up my bag and left. As I headed to the car I thought about everything that had happened over the past couple of days, how my relationship with Anton had changed. I'm not sure what it had changed into, but there was no way that I could ever look at him in the same way as I once did, now that I had shaved his head while he sat there playing with himself, even if it had been 'undercover'. 

The following day I was almost dreading seeing him again and even worse, I was wondering what story he would have told the other two stylists. I walked through the door to find Anton chatting with Amy, the junior stylist.

'Good morning Anton. Good morning Amy' I said, walking towards them. 

'What do you think of what Anton's done, Christina?' Amy asked. For a moment I thought that she was unaware of my part in the proceedings.

'I did it last night' Anton said quickly 'Moment of madness, you know' he said, winking at me.

'Nothing you do surprises me, Anton' I said, realising that he really hadn't told her.

'So what made you do that?' I asked him, joining in with his charade.

'I fancied a change and thought it would look cool' he replied.

'Some of your ladies are going to be in for a shock' I said as I headed up the stairs.

A minute or so later, Anton joined me in the office and closed the door.

'I suppose I should say thank you' I said as I looked up.

'Let's say you owe me one' he replied.

'Let's not' I said and looked back down at my paperwork.

Everything was as normal as it could be for the next couple of days, apart from the obvious interest from the customers as to why Anton had done what he had done. His new look had gone down well with most people and it certainly generated conversation easily in the salon. Just before I left the salon for the night Anton came into the office and sat down in the spare chair.

'Are you doing anything tomorrow night?' he asked.

'Why?' I asked. Anton frequently asked in passing what plans I had for the weekend, but never in this sort of way.

'I'm having a party at my house and I thought you might like to come' he replied.

'What sort of party?' I asked, my mind generating all manner of images of debauchery.

'It's at eight, at my house. I would love you to come, but if you don't I'll never mention it again' he said.

'What sort of party is it?' I asked again.

'Sort of an underwear party, basques, corsets, stockings, garter belt, that sort of thing' he said.

'What about us ladies?' I asked, then immediately felt terrible in case I had come over as mocking him.

'Ha, ha!' he said with a wry smile.

'You're serious? You want me to come to your party?' I asked.

'I would love you to come to my party' he said sweetly.

I knew that Anton knew that it was unlikely that I would have any other engagement, so I couldn't just come out with a made-up story. I was quiet for a moment.

'Underwear?' I repeated.

'Sexy as you can' he replied.

He stood up and headed for the door, turning just before he left.

'I might throw in a hair-fetish theme just for good measure' he said and left me sitting looking into space with those words running around my head. I closed the account spreadsheet as I just couldn't concentrate on it anymore. I was relieved that tomorrow was my day off, so I wouldn't have to see him before the party. It gave me time to come up with an excuse or even the opportunity just not to go. I wondered how often he had these sort of gatherings. This was another example of how our relationship had changed as he would never have talked about such events before the other night.

I went to sleep that night thinking of excuses that I could possibly use and also thinking that I should just go out of curiosity. It was still on my mind when I woke up. Over breakfast my thoughts had progressed on to what I could wear, before deciding that I didn't have anything suitable. I had frilly stuff, but nothing that I would parade round in public. So, if I was going to go, it was going to cost me.

I dressed and started on various chores that I needed to do around the house, which was perhaps a mistake. It left me free to think about Anton's party and before I knew it, I was heading into town. I never like lingerie shopping as I always wonder what the shop assistant is thinking as you look at the stuff in the shop. Are they labelling you as a slut or a desperate no-hoper trying to put some excitement into a dying relationship? As it happened, the girl in the shop that I went to couldn't have been nicer and I felt totally at ease talking to her. Once I told her that I was looking for something to wear to a party, she was just so helpful. She even convinced me not to be too bashful as whatever I chose there would always be some exhibitionist there who would be wearing a piece of dental floss which would leave all the other guests staring at everything she had. She picked something out that she said that would be perfect with my blonde hair, so I agreed to take it. I had her to thank as I walked towards the car with boxes and bags containing a beautiful baby blue basque that was cut just that little bit lower than I would have chosen for myself. She smiled at my objection that the edges of my nipples would be on view and just told me to "knock'em dead!"

I headed home to begin my beauty routine which needed to be that little bit more meticulous than usual, all the while not quite convinced in my mind that I would actually go. However at just before eight, I was standing in front of the mirror in the hall, coiffed, moisturised and shaved to as close as I could get to perfection! My hair was hanging to my shoulders and proved that the shop assistant was right. The outfit looked great with my colouring. With one last hitch of the cups to try to conceal the dark shadows of my nipples, I swung a coat around me and picked up my keys. I just hoped that I didn't have a puncture or get stopped by the police on the way.

I parked easily outside Anton's house, looking at my watch to check the time. I expected there to be more cars, but perhaps people were eager not to drink and drive. I had decided to take a cab home if I needed to. I walked towards his front door, self-consciously, looking for the twitching of neighbour's curtains. There was nothing that I could see. I reached for the door bell, aware of the sound of music coming from inside. One final hesitation and I pressed. I waited.

The door opened and Anton peeked round the frame, a glass of wine visible in his hand.

'Christina! Thank you for coming' he said, opening the door wider. I went in to the hallway, the door shutting behind me. As I turned to hand Anton the bottle of wine that I had brought with me, I saw that he was wearing just a posing pouch. Despite myself, I stared at him, taking in his well-toned physique. He smiled.

'May I take your coat' he said formally. I took a breath and undid the buttons before revealing myself to him in all my satin grandeur. I saw him look at me appreciatively.

'This the sort of thing you had in mind?' I asked, eager to be away from the centre of attention. I was so hoping that the woman in the dental-floss was already here. He nodded appreciatively.

'Let's get you a drink before we go in there' he said, leading the way into the kitchen.

'Are you expecting many people?' I asked.

'Just enough' he replied cryptically, pouring me a glass of wine from a very nice looking bottle. I was trying not to look at him in his posing pouch, but failed miserably in my many attempts. I never heard him talk about going to the gym or being sporty or anything like that but you didn't get a body like that by lying around doing nothing. I drained my glass, aware that he was watching me. He moved to fill it up again, much to my relief. 

'Shall we go in?' I asked. He nodded and led the way once more. The music grew louder as the door opened, but I realised immediately that there were no other people.

'Don't tell me I'm the first' I said.

'Nobody else could make it at such short notice' he said.

'And you didn't think to ring me and tell me not to come?' I said, somewhat annoyed.

He moved further into the room, leaving me in the doorway looking in.

'I wanted you to come' he said, holding out a hand towards me, beckoning me to come in. I was all too aware of my state of undress and his own state of even more undress.

'Leave it' he said.

I looked at him, wondering what he meant.

'Don't keep pulling that up' he said, pointing to the cups of my basque.

'You've never struck me as much of a boob man' I said, pulling the cups up despite his request. I was starting to feel awkward.

'The team games aren't going to be much fun' I said nervously. He smiled and turned away from me.

'There is only one game on offer tonight, so if that doesn't appeal to you, we'll have to see what is on the TV' he replied. As he turned back, he pulled a chair from underneath the dining table and moved it towards me. He put the chair down and came closer.

'I want to cut your hair' he said, reaching up to touch the ends of my hair near my collar bone.

I played the comment through in my mind a couple of times.

'You want what?' I asked.

'I want to cut your hair' he repeated. I was more conscious that ever that I was standing facing a man in a posing pouch whilst I was dressed for sex. Little matter that he was camp and a close colleague. Standing there, he was a man with a rather impressive bulge.

'I should go' I said. He took his hand down and gestured towards the door. He took a step away from me in a bid to make me feel more comfortable. He failed.

'It's open, but I'd love you to stay' he said. I moved my glass towards my lips and then stopped as I realised that I was about to get into my car.

'I really should go' I repeated.

'So you said' he replied. I looked at him and smiled. I could see the expression change on his face.

'You're sticking out' I said, nodding towards his waistband. He didn't move to adjust himself, although I'm not sure what he could have done to rectify the situation. There's only so much erection that a posing pouch can contain before it gives up the struggle.

'The door's open' he said again, pausing before moving towards me, his hand outstretched. This time I took it and let him lead me towards the chair that he had set out. In a weird sort of dance move, he shimmied out of the way to let me sit down, if I wanted to. I sat and reached instinctively for the cups of my basque to tug it upwards.

'Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you just let it slide down?' he asked.

'That depends whether that is meant for me or is just in response to you thinking about cutting my hair' I said, nodding my head towards his waistband, which was scarily close to my eye-level. If I was faced with it from any other man I would have thought differently, but this was Anton, a camp-follower. I decided to ignore the one-eyed monster peeping over the parapet at me and dropped my hands to my lap, trying to relax. Anton ignored the question.

'What are you going to do?' I asked, deciding to change tack.

'What would you like me to do?' he fired back.

'I don't know. I haven't thought about it' I replied.

'Didn't you think about cutting your hair when you watched those videos? When you were cutting mine?'

'A bit' I replied.

'You thought a bit about cutting or you thought about cutting a bit?'

'I don't know. I don't know what I thought' I replied, still trying to relax. Anton was leaning against the table, away from me, so as not to appear threatening, although how someone could look threatening wearing a posing pouch with half an erection sticking out, I don't know. 

'I'm feeling a little over-dressed here' he said. 'How about you slip that off while I think about what I'm going to do with these' he said, holding up a pair of clippers that had been behind him on the table.

'Anton, what about work?' I said.

'You work too much. You need to play a bit more' he replied, still holding the clippers. He waited.

He probably wasn't wrong in the assessment of my work-life balance, but it was probably not an appropriate time to be thinking about such things. I was sitting in my underwear while a colleague and friend was coming towards me with two implements that could do me damage. He hadn't turned the clippers on, but he positioned them against my hair, near my cheekbone. I kept my head still and tried to focus on the clipper blades, just the other side of the curtain of my hair. I really didn't know how to react in this situation. I wasn't frightened, but I was confused about my response. When faced with a barely-concealed erection, I would normally be drawn to it, but I didn't know what to do. Was Anton aroused by the prospect of cutting my hair or was he aroused by me as a woman? I really didn't know. Should I let him cut my hair and then see what was on offer or was his erection a part of the scenario? However, I was still his colleague and boss and we would have to face each other in the cold light of day on Monday.

I reached out and touched his tip, running a finger through the droplet that was sitting there and rubbing it around. I was almost oblivious to the fact that the blade of the clippers wasn't obscured by my hair anymore, but was now plainly visible. A tress of my hair lay on my thigh. I looked up at Anton, feeling a little pulse through his cock.

'That can't be good for you' I said, moving my finger to the waistband that was constricting him. Still looking at him, I used both hands to ease his redundant pouch down towards his feet, watching him work them down with his legs. His cock showed its happiness at being released by doing a little dance before coming to rest. It was a fine specimen, even if it was not necessarily used for the purpose that I thought it should be used for. Anton took a step back, waiting. 

'You'll have to help me' I said, leaning forward. I was happy at the prospect of my own release from confinement, but still awkward at being semi-naked in front of Anton. It was true that I still had the lower part of my ensemble on, but I would be sitting topless whilst a naked, erect man stood over me. As Anton freed me from the confines of the basque, my nipples let their opinion known. They matched Anton for hardness in their own sweet way. I was proud of them, but I was embarrassed. I sat back in the chair again, hands folded in my lap, eager to hide any other expressions of interest that my body might have been planning. All of this served as a distraction from the fact that about eight inches of the hair from the side of my head lay on the floor. I waited for Anton to continue, intrigued from a professional point of view about his apparent plan to cut a bob while naked and aroused. I wondered about his chances of success and started to understand the difficulties faced by some of the people in those videos. It is difficult to cut a decent bob in normal circumstances, but once the mist of sexual excitement descends, it is near-impossible. I apologised silently for my initial rush to judgement.

Whilst I had been pre-occupied with my atonement, Anton had made his next cut. More hair fell in my lap. Anton's cock did a little jig of delight. I realised what he had done. The guardless clippers had slid stealthily up my temple and I knew only too well what that meant.

'Anton, you bastard' I exclaimed. 'You said you wanted to cut my hair, not fucking shave me' I objected.

'Tonight there are no rules' he replied cryptically.

'Is that right?' I asked, cupping his balls and giving them a squeeze. He flinched, but responded by running the clippers across my crown. I relaxed my grip a little, but still kept hold of him, marvelling at the little movements his balls made as he moved. Holding him like that distracted me from thinking about my hair being shaved off. What would I look like? What would people think? How would it go down at the salon?

Ignoring thoughts of other people for a moment, I tried to work out what I felt about it. The whole situation was strange and I suspected that it had been manufactured by Anton, although I wasn't quite sure why. I would ask him when the time was right, but for the moment I decided to keep my counsel. I concentrated on the movement of the clippers over my scalp, admiring Anton's skill in their use. I knew what he was doing, but his touch was so light that it would be easy to ignore it. There was, however, no ignoring the warm sensation elsewhere. I had the same doubts about the source of my arousal as I did about Anton's. Was it the haircut or the obvious sexual setting?

Just as Anton was starting to move around behind me, I traced a line with my index finger from the base of his cock to the tip. Then it was gone, leaving me with the memory of his response. My head was tilted downwards, my view filled with piles of my hair, and my stocking-clad legs. A sense of propriety had kept my knees clamped together up to this point, but I was beyond that now. I could feel clippers on my almost hairless scalp, I could feel the attention-seeking prod of Anton's erection against my back as he worked, so there was no reason why I should feel any shame about letting my legs splay and moving my sodden gusset to one side to gain access to my secret place. 

I didn't  register the silence in the room at first, but did notice the change in the sensation on my scalp. The linear movements of the clippers was replaced by the circular movement of Anton's fingers. My own fingers moved that little bit more urgently. I could hear Anton behind me, putting the clippers down on the table, fiddling with something, rustling and then felt his hands under my arms, urging me to stand up. I had expected his next move to be a razor-shave in the way  that I had shaved him, but for some reason, it wasn't. Unless he was intending to move the action to his bathroom for the messy bit. I was about to turn round when he hugged me. If you could call it a hug when someone holds you to him in such a way that his cock nestles between your cheeks and his hands are squeezing your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples. I felt his tongue on my scalp as he used his weight to bring us both to a kneeling position.

His hands were roving; stroking me, squeezing me, exploring me. My camp colleague had a wonderful touch, but I wondered whether he was going to leave me frustrated by not being able to betray his usual instincts. My head was close to the ground, my backside much higher, Anton was tracing lines across my back with his fingers. It amused me that the first time I was conscious of my new baldness was in this position. Every other time that I have found myself like this, there had been a curtain of hair that would need to be swept out of the way so that I could see. Tonight it would be swept in a different way and it would be a long time before it was a distraction again.

My assessment of my new hairless state was brought to a sudden end as I felt the tip of Anton's cock against my pussy lips. Was this really going to happen, I wondered. I wondered no more as Anton's lower belly met my backside with surprising force. Surprising in the way that I didn't think that it would happen for so many reasons and in a small way wished that it hadn't happened. Everything was different between us now. For a moment I thought that he had changed his mind as his single, forceful stroke didn't lead to anything. I felt him slide out of me, but then he was back, faster and deeper than before. Not a technique that I had experienced before, but it was thrilling in its aggression and somehow appropriate. I braced myself with my elbows, thinking that I might have to wear long-sleeves for a while, but that would be easier to explain than a friction burn on my chin! His next stroke forced me to arch my back, made me come. He paused while the sensation washed over me and he politely waited while I uttered the last of a string of expletives and then he withdrew.

'I'm not finished yet' I protested. Neither was he.

He stroked my lower back, stroked my buttocks, probed me with his fingers. I rubbed a hand over my scalp, eager for more. It then became clear that Anton was only being polite by visiting my world briefly and now it was my turn to be introduced to his. It had probably been on his agenda from the outset as he had a bottle of some sort of lubricant to hand, some of which I could feel running along my folds. I lowered my forehead to the carpet briefly, wondering what it was going to be like. Wondering whether I should object. I giggled to myself as I thought that the best approach was to "take it like a man", but then it was too late. Anton proved to be a gentle and considerate guide to his world, but I would have to admit to a degree of relief once the tour was over. He made the cutest noises when he came, noises of excitement, of urgency to remove his condom so that he could splash his warmth along my spine, between my shoulder blades. I was ready for a shower, but despite being spent, Anton was still prepared to take his role as the perfect host seriously. He wiped my back and then urged me to turn over, his intentions signalled by him wetting his lips as he re-positioned himself.

After showing me where the towels were, Anton left me to shower alone. I washed slowly, savouring the unexpected way that things had turned out, wondering whether I would be able to look Anton in the eye again. Where did tonight leave us? Would we repeat our intimacy? Could we repeat it or would we never be able to re-capture the feelings that we had experienced. I towelled myself dry, thinking how quickly I could now get ready with no hair to worry about. I looked at myself in the mirror, one hand rubbing my scalp to confirm that what I was seeing was indeed true. I was bald, if slightly sand-papery. I looked good, I thought as there was a knock on the door.

I apologised to Anton for hogging the bathroom and wrapped a towel around myself, before slipping out as he came in. I still felt awkward about what had happened downstairs, but I was also starting to think about the practicalities of getting home without sensible clothes. I was tempted to just throw on my coat and go before Anton came downstairs again, but I decided against it. I occupied myself with looking at his tasteful choice of knick-nacks and pictures while I waited, but before long I heard him coming downstairs. I turned to see him with a towel around his waist, holding a can of shaving foam in one hand and a razor in the other, signalling that our evening was not over. I was pleased that I wouldn't have to shave my own head this time, but still in two minds as to whether I should leave. Whilst waiting for him though, I had decided that I could never allow any further indiscretion between us.

I sat down on the same chair that had seen my blonde hair fall to the floor, although Anton had clearly tidied up while I had been in the shower. The clippers had gone from the table, but there was still a packet of condoms and a little bottle of scented oil as witnesses to what had gone on earlier. 

I heard the shaving cream come out of the can and felt it on my scalp as Anton stood behind me. His fingers traced playful patterns across my head and then it was time to complete my transformation from blonde to bald. I was looking forward to it, consequences be damned! Anton came round in front of me to put the can on the table, its job now done. He inspected the head of the razor closely and then smiled at me. 

'It'll be better without the towel' he said, motioning towards me with his head as he released the knot that was securing his own towel. Once more I was faced with his erection standing proud amidst a sea of dark curls, curiously reminiscent of the ones he sported on his head until last week! I undid my own towel and let it fall around me as much as it could with me still sitting on part of it. Anton nodded his approval at my unveiling and deemed himself ready to continue. He worked from behind me at first and stroked the razor across my head with the same lightness of touch that he had shown with the clippers. Again and again he stroked, each movement confirming my induction into the world of the bald and each one ensuring that I would stay there for just a little bit longer. He moved deftly around me, painstaking in his efforts to do a perfect job and apparently completely oblivious to the naked flesh on display.

My resolve not to give in to my baser instincts with Anton had lasted until he undid his towel and from then it was just a matter of time before I crumpled completely. I waited for him to pronounce me 'done', but didn't wait for him to wipe any excess foam from my head. I think I surprised him by getting up so quickly, but he had recovered his composure in the time that it took me to tear open the condom packet. I would usually consider myself to be a fairly old-fashioned type of woman, who liked to be wined and dined and then would allow my man to make the running and I would follow where that led. That approach was at odds with the way that I leaned over Anton's dining table and spread my legs in readiness for him. I wasn't sure whether I was sub-consciously telling him that I was okay with whatever he chose to do, but I do know that I just wanted to feel him inside me again. His little bottle of perfumed oil stayed firmly shut as he tested the quality of his dining furniture. I could hear it creak in amongst my own moans, but it took all that we could throw at it, I'm pleased to say!

Our second shower of the night was a joint one, our initial awkwardness after my initiation into Anton's world had gone and I was happy to let him soap me and wash me. I was even considering employing him just for that as he had such wonderful hands. While we were drying ourselves, I spied the clippers on the shelf where Anton had stored them. There was one thing I just had to do before I left. I could see Anton's eyes follow my gaze and I think he realised quickly what I intended. He pretended to protest, but he gave in with good grace and stood quite still as I rid him of his nest of pubes. As I worked the clippers around his balls, I could see his cock struggling to proclaim itself ready for action again, but it was to admit defeat despite a valiant attempt. I would have been astounded if he had managed to rouse himself for more after what he had been through since I arrived, but I admired him for trying. I kissed the newly-revealed skin just above Anton's cock and stood up, my fingers still touching the area where my lips had just been.

'Now what do we do?' I asked Anton.

'I think I shall eat strawberries and drink wine' he said.

Sounded good to me. There was no attempt to cover ourselves with towels this time. We padded naked down stairs and headed for the kitchen where Anton suggested that I sat on the armchair in the corner while he prepared the strawberries. I watched him as he worked, suddenly realising that we had barely exchanged a word for ages. We obviously knew each other very well at work, but we were strangers in these circumstances. Surely that merited a little conversation. Anton handed me a glass of wine and then fetched a bowl of strawberries from the counter. He dangled one in front of me, making me crane my neck to reach it. I tried to put on my sexiest look as I let him feed me. He followed it with another in a similar fashion.

'You have one' I said, swallowing the last morsel. 

I took a sip of wine as I watched him select a strawberry for himself. He held it gingerly by the stem and looked at it before holding it out to me. I shook my head. He was still holding the fruit extended towards me as he lowered it, touching it to the swell of my breast before touching it to my nipple. He moved it lower, still holding it in front of me and then crouched down. He was still looking me in the eye as he kissed my knee. Strawberry in one hand, he used his free hand to touch me behind my knee, urging me to change position. In moments, I was lying back on the chair, backside on the edge, legs spread. Anton was looking at his strawberry and I had to admire him for his inventiveness. 

'That's not how they present fruit on those cookery shows' I said, admiring the way that the strawberry nestled obscenely with my pussy lips as a garnish. I tried not to move as he nibbled, hoping that his teeth could differentiate between fruit and container. He lifted his head and looked at me like a naughty schoolboy. I slapped him playfully on the head.

'Didn't your mother tell you not to play with your food?' I asked.

'Didn't yours tell you to keep your legs closed?' he retorted. I rewarded him with a second slap and held out another strawberry for him. I could get used to this, I decided. 

I won't bore you with more detail of that evening other than to say that I managed to disentangle myself from Anton in the early hours and to head home without incident. I spent Sunday not being able to decide how I felt. In a way I was apprehensive about going in to work in the morning and how I would deal with the questions now that I was sporting the same shaved look as Anton. Each time I managed to dismiss the idea by telling myself that no-one would possibly believe that there could be anything between us. I would call it a gesture of solidarity with a colleague and friend. Then I was concerned about how Anton and I would react in the cold light of day. Only the actual event could determine that one. My final thoughts concerned the epic sexual nature of the evening and how it had started to build from the very moment that Anton had invited me. He had been good enough to admit that the whole thing had been a set-up to get me to shave my head and that the dress-code had just been a bit of harmless fun that was never meant to have led to anything.

And now it was Monday. I had sat in the car park for several minutes plucking up the courage to go in, but here I was turning the handle.

'Wow Christina' I heard as soon as I crossed the threshold. I smiled at Amy, thanking her for her appreciative tone.

'Copycat!' came the exclamation from Anton. I looked at him standing at reception next to Amy. My mind raced as he said that single word. He hadn't said anything to her. I could tell them whatever I liked. Then I noticed that he was eating a strawberry!

'Would you like one?' he asked, proffering the punnet.

'No thanks, I had my fill of strawberries over the weekend' I replied, deciding not to let him have a monopoly on smart comments. I could sense Amy looking at me.

'Anton inspired me to try something different, so I got rid of it' I said. 'You should try it' I added, slightly wickedly as I put my bag down. I needed coffee.

'Honest, Amy, you should. Christina would do it for you if you asked her nicely' I heard Anton say as I went up the stairs. 

I breathed a sigh of relief as I got to my office. I had survived the first encounter, but knew that there would be close questioning to come as the day progressed. I needed coffee and headed back down to reception rather than wait for my own machine to do its stuff.

'Jump in the chair while I get my coffee and I'll have you clean as a whistle in no time' I said to Amy as I went down the last few steps, trying to sound serious. She looked stunned and put her hand up defensively to her short dark hair. I felt bad for joining in with Anton's tease, but it would pass.

'Go on, you'd look great. Just look at Christina' he said. She did.

'I don't know' she said.

I poured my coffee and when I looked up, Amy was standing closer to the styling area than she had when I came down. I looked at Anton and frowned to convey what I really felt.

'It's alright, Amy, we're only teasing' I said, eager to put her mind at ease.

'I wasn't' Anton said. 'She'd look stunning, really' he added.

'Leave the girl alone' I chided.

'I'll do it for you, if Christina won't' Anton persisted.

'Anton' I said more firmly. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

I turned to Amy who was looking at herself in the mirror.

'What made you do it?' she asked, looking at me rather than at Anton. Subterfuge and trickery, mixed with an equal part of horniness, I thought.

'It really was just a spur of the moment thing. I didn't plan it at all' I said, pleased both with my honesty and economy with the truth. Amy ran her hand through her hair again.

'Just like that?' she asked. I nodded, thinking that it was nothing like that at all. 

My eye caught Anton's and I saw him smile before putting a strawberry to his lips. I really hoped that he wasn't going to carry on like that for long.

'It'll grow again in no time, won't it' she said rhetorically.

I took a sip of coffee, not daring to look in Anton's direction again.

'Did you do it gradually?' Amy asked me.

I shook my head as I swallowed.

'Wow!' she said again.

I took another sip and then almost choked as she sat down in the styling chair.

'Think about it Amy, it's a big step' I said, recovering my poise.

'I thought you said that you just did it, without thinking about it, without planning it' she argued.

'I did say that, yes' I agreed.

'And do you regret it?' she asked. I was starting to get annoyed that I couldn't counter her arguments without giving myself away and that what had started as one of Anton's jokes was now getting close to becoming reality for Amy. I wondered how long Anton would need to hide behind reception if Amy actually went through with this.

'I want to do it' Amy said, giving up on waiting for an answer to her last question. I took a swallow of coffee, realising that there was an opportunity for revenge.

'Anton will do it for you' I said, looking across at him with a big smile. He shook his head, a pained expression on his face.

'Christina could have done it by the time I've finished these' Anton said gesturing at his strawberries.

'Okay, but make sure you save a couple for me. I'll look forward to them later on' I said with a smile. 

I put my cup down and picked up a gown, fixing it in place around Amy's neck. Her hair was already short, so it wouldn't be as dramatic for her as it was for me, but I still expected it to be a shock when she first saw herself.

'What do you think Paul will say when you get home?' I asked, making the final adjustments.

'I don't know. I think he'll be alright with it' she replied.

'I don't want him coming in here shouting at me' I said. By now I was actually looking forward to shaving her. I liked her and she had a lovely face and features, so I had no qualms about whether or not she would look good if she did it. I had caught the bug from Anton and now I wanted to shave and be shaved! I'm not too sure how Bernie would feel when she came in after her day off to find her only three co-workers were all sporting shaved heads!

I unhooked the clippers and tried to decide how I would do Amy's cut, what would give me most pleasure and by extension, what would give most pleasure to my audience of one. It had been Anton who had taken Amy short in the first place, a couple of months ago and I bet that he was kicking himself now that he realised how easy she could be persuaded to go shorter still.

'Okay Amy, let's talk about this' I said.

'Well..' she started, before her thought process was distracted by the sight of me running the clippers back from her hairline. As a tactic, it fell way short of the way that Anton had lured me into his lair, but it was the best I could think of in the circumstances. I didn't want her to have second-thoughts while I tried to come up with some scenario, I just wanted to let the clippers run.

'Gotcha!' I said, squeezing her shoulder gently. 

'That's just like my mum used to do, getting me to look at something just before she ripped a band-aid off!' Amy said.

'Hopefully this won't hurt as much' I replied, clearing the top of her head of hair. She was taking it remarkably calmly for someone who had only considered the possibility for a few minutes. She was obviously someone who was up for anything, although I wondered if she had ever had a weekend as way-out as mine had been. I had met her boyfriend and he came across as a completely wholesome young man, very polite, worked in a bank from what I could remember. Would this lead the pair of them down unexplored avenues or had they already embarked on such a journey? Would Anton give her the same sort of nudge that he had given me?

'Will you do the razor-shave, Anton?' I called across to him, knowing that I was likely to embarrass him again.

'I need to do something in the office. Would you do it?' he replied. 'I'll put those strawberries on your desk for when you've finished that' he added as he went upstairs. I liked his answer as it gave me the chance to tease him, but also allowed me to shave Amy. I decided that I would have to read up on the head as an erogenous zone as it quickly became apparent that Amy was fighting the same sort of feelings that I had experienced when Anton shaved me. The only difference was that I was her boss and it isn't usually considered the done thing to start playing with yourself in the workplace. Anton excepted of course! I wanted to tell her to "go for it." I wanted to help her out, but I already had enough to deal with with Anton. I carried on, smearing, stroking, ridding her of the dark shadow that I had left behind.

When I had finished shaving her, I was able to watch her reclining, eyes closed while I washed her scalp for her. She looked beautiful, not at all worried as to what she had just done or how she would look. What it must be like to be a twenty-something at ease with yourself rather than a thirty-something surrounded by peer pressure! I wanted to stroke her bald head, wanted to kiss it, but then told myself that I had no right being horny after the weekend that I had had. I had had enough sex to last me for months!

I finished rinsing Amy's head and towelled her dry. She beamed as she touched it for the first time, looking at herself in the mirror from every angle that she could manage. I left her holding the back-mirror and told her that I needed to get some stuff ready before we opened. I headed upstairs to see whether Anton was in a fit state to re-enter the workplace, but when I opened my office door he was sitting in my chair, trousers round his ankles. I stopped in my tracks.

'Quick' Anton said. I looked at him incredulously.

He stood up and patted the desk, still holding his cock in his hand.

'Come on, quick' he said again.

'Anton, if you think I'm going to do that here' I chided. 

'Shhh' he said, moving behind me so that I was between him and the desk. A hand between my shoulder-blades urged me to bend forward, whilst his other hand was up my skirt.

What had I done? What had I become, I wondered, as I felt my panties being pulled down. I spread my legs for him.

'Be quick!' I urged him, partly out of fear of being discovered and partly because I wanted him inside me and had done since I had been downstairs with Amy. I held my hand over my mouth to stifle any noise that I might make a he started to pump inside me. I cradled my head on my outstretched forearms, concentrating, trying to judge the moment. I moved my head to the side just in time to see the door open.

Amy made no sound, the words getting lost before they reached her open mouth. What must she think seeing her boss being fucked by a guy that she thought was 100% gay?

'Either come in or go away' Anton said, not allowing the intrusion to interrupt his rhythm. Amy shut the door and leant back against it. I turned my head away from her, embarrassed, but then turned back to face her.

'I need to know you won't tell anyone' I said to her, amused by the weakness of my bargaining position. Anton was still bucking like a metronome.

'I won't, promise' Amy replied, with a sweet "cross my heart" gesture.

I reached out a hand towards her.

'Anton has something that he wanted to give you while I was cutting you hair' I said, beckoning her to come closer. The only way that I could think to keep her from telling everyone in the pub what she had seen was to make her complicit, even if it did make me feel just a little bit guilty. I pushed back against Anton to tell him to let me get up and looked at Amy as I slid my skirt down. I was annoyed that Anton hadn't had time to do what I needed him to do, but there would be other opportunities, of that I was quite sure.

Amy was still clearly shocked at what she had seen, but came towards us regardless. I could see her looking at Anton's sheathed cock before she looked up at me. She peeled the condom off him and then was on her knees in front of him, head bobbing. I remembered the day that I interviewed her for the job, thinking that she was perhaps a little too reserved, and how I very nearly gave the job to someone else. Either I was wrong, or she had learned to overcome her shyness, because she was entering into the spirit of things with  a good deal of enthusiasm now. I stroked her bald head as she worked Anton with her tongue and lips, thinking that this scenario was a little adventurous for me. It needed to be done though.

I drew down the zip on Amy's dress and slid it off her shoulders. I needed her to be more committed than a blow-job if I was going to be as sure as I could of her silence. She didn't object and I undid the clasp of her bra for good measure. I cupped her face in my hands and drew her back from Anton, easing her to a standing position. Her dress slid to the floor and she stood there in just her knickers, looking from Anton to me. She slid them down to her ankles without further encouragement, betraying her confidence in her body.

'You do realise that nobody would believe me even if I told them' Amy said.

'So why are you doing this then?' Anton asked her.

'Because I need some of that' she replied, pointing to Anton's cock. I handed him another condom as Amy sat on my desk, reclining and spreading in a way that suggested that it was far from being the first time she had been in that position. I looked on curiously as Anton slid into her slowly. Amy's gaze was on me as she took him, a smile spreading across her face as Anton's rhythm quickened. I wanted to join in, to touch her, to stroke her, but I didn't dare. They were still my employees and I would have to deal with the consequences of this in the days and weeks to come. I was starting to wonder whether I would actually be able to continue with the salon when Amy gasped as Anton neared his climax. I watched the motion of her boobs get more and more forceful and then calm descended on them as Anton lay across her, spent.

It was probably almost a minute before Anton stood up, leaving Amy across the desk, legs still shamelessly spread. I reached out to her to help her up, failing to keep my eyes from appreciating her nakedness. I handed her her dress.

'Take as long as you want, but I'd better go and get the door open' I said, stroking Amy's cheek.

'Don't worry, Christina. It's our little secret' Amy said as I headed for the door. Just as I left the office I heard her ask Anton if she could have one of the strawberries that he had left on my desk. Please, just let her eat it, I thought, as I headed down the stairs wondering what we were going to tell Bernie when she came in the following day.

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