It's What She Didn't Know

They say the sign of a great barber is the number of people waiting. The shop I walked by that afternoon had a fancy designer sign, *H*A*T*M*O*, and had no empty chairs during the hours when it's usually slow at other shops. I noted the address for later. I'd been dying to get something done with my unruly mess of curls and this looks like the place to do it. The last salon I went to had little ol' blue-haired ladies so I want no part of salons in this town.

At work the next day, I ask a co-worker about that shop.

Jeff answered,"I love that shop, Gwen. The best haircut I ever had."

My insides go Yes! Sounds like I can trust they'll do a good job.

I scoped it out during the next several weeks, and found that they are very slow, almost empty on Wednesday nights. They were open until 10pm even though most of the time they had no customers. I wanted to get my haircut, but not with an audience.

The following Wednesday, I trot myself down to the shop at about 9pm, well after the evening commute. There's only one customer, but that's okay with me. He'll probably be leaving soon.

I walk in, ringing the bell above the door, and the few eyes there turn to look at me. I look around and notice how old fashioned the place is. I love the old style barber chairs. Their eyes widen in surprise.

"Can I help you, miss? " the oldest barber there asks, with a great foreign accent, from Italy, maybe.

I can't speak; the words won't come out of my mouth though they are in my head.

"Miss? Are you lost? "

I stammer,"Um, no. I just wha... want a haircut. "

The two barbers look at each other, and the one in the chair looks at them. The youngest barber, the one working on the customer, whispers to the older one. The older barber says,

"Sure, come sit." I walk over to the chair and sit down. He puts the cape around me and pumps up the chair to the right height.

"You have such full head of hair."

"Yes, but it's become so unmanageable that I can't do anything with it."

"So, you want to cut it off?"

"Yes. I've asked around and been told that this is a shop I can trust."

The younger barber asks,"How much do you trust us?"

"Enough to be here."

The younger barber asks the older barber,"Mario, do you want to see how much she trusts us?"

"I do, yes, Bill".

Mario opens a drawer and pulls out an eye mask.

"Miss, if we cover your eyes, will you still trust us?" I'm a little nervous when he asks that, but I'm already in the chair. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Yes."

Mario places the mask over my eyes. It has sticky on it so it adheres to my face, and there is no strap to interfere with haircutting.

"I'll start, yes?"

"Yes."

The old barber gets some clips and clips my hair up in sections. He then picks up a comb and scissors and cuts each section in turn. I can feel that my hair is a lot shorter.

I hear a snap of a shaken cape as Bill tells the customer he's all set. The next sound I hear is the buzzing of clippers as they approach my head. I've always loved the sound of clippers. During the summer I love to walk by open shop doors and hear the buzzing sound. I hardly feel the vibrations as he shears away using a guide on the blades.

Once my entire head has been cleared of the majority of my mop, he changes the blade again. My head is forced to the side and he shears away hair by my temple, my ear and the side of my neck. The blade is closer to my head now and I feel the buzzing as it tickles my head. He moves to the other side and does the same. It feels so good that I don't think about what all the clipper cutting means.

He pushes my head down and shears away the back of my head. The buzzing on my lower neck totally turns me on. The clippers rise almost to the top of my head. Mario changes the blade again and shaves the sides again. The buzzing feels a little closer now, the vibrations pulsing to my core. The other side is being shaved now, and then it's back to the neck. I feel the buzzing closer on my scalp but still don't realize what that means. I'm just so turned on and tuned into my body that all I feel, all I want, is the shaving of my neck.

The noise of the clipper changes then grows and suddenly it's all around me. I wonder if there are more customers, until I feel clippers on either side of my head as well as the back. Three clippers shaving my head! This is so new to me and feels so incredible that I still have no idea what it means, I just know I like it and want it. The blades are so close to my scalp, I'm overwhelmed with buzzing vibrations that are heating up my core. I rock my pelvis just a little.

One by one, the clippers turn off. I feel a brush chasing away any hair before the cape is removed. The chair is turned and the mask slowly peeled away. My eyes adjust to the low light in the shop and I'm left staring at my shorn image in the mirror.

"Well, miss, how did we do?" asks Mario.

I'm so shocked at my appearance. I wanted a haircut, not to be practically bald!

"I... I..." I stammer. The customer is still here. He waves at me. Bill points at him and mouths the word barber. That's why there were three clippers!

Bill says,"Come now, miss. Didn't you know what we do here?"

"Wha... what do you mean?"

"Don't you know what HATMO means?"

"I...I just thought it was the name of the owner."

Mario whispers to me."Miss, it stands for High And Tight Men Only."