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When Marcelo entered through the salon door, no one could have foreseen that this day would become a milestone in the salon's history, one of the most sophisticated and well-attended salons in the city. Marcelo was the owner and he hadn't come for several months. He trusted his manageress Mona. A skilled veteran stylist, who diligently and successfully managed the salon with an iron hand, and the hair of the near 20 stylists that worked there, was buzzed very short or even to zero length, the salon's trademark.

"What a surprise Marcelo! We haven't seen you for a long time." Mona greeted him.

Mona was sporting her customary black mane of lacquered ringlets, with too much volume and gloss; excessive and spectacular. For this she got the nickname 'the lioness', especially as she was among so many shorn girls. It was her symbol of strength and power. But mostly there is someone else, who is above the one who usually gives the orders.

"Hi my dear Mona ... I think it's time to give this salon a new atmosphere."

"Why? Everything is running smoothly."

"I don't mean the income, neither your splendid management; I mean the salon's image."

"What do you dislike?"

"You hair, it's too long. It clashes with theirs - Marcelo looked at the girls sporting very short crops, while playfully touching one of Mona's long curls with his fingers."

Mona couldn't overcome her surprise and didn't know what to say. She was completely nonplussed by the words from her boss.

"Among so many shorn girls, you stand out Mona. And that's something I don't like. Let's relieve you of some of that mane. Yes dear?"

The words 'some of that mane' calmed her down. She thought that it would be just a little trim, something that Marcelo didn't usually do, but sometimes liked to do. Everything OK, she was ready to loose at most some three or four centimeters of her long mane, and then her boss would be happy.

On orders from the only male in the salon, Mona was sent to the head washing station. After she had been thoroughly washed with shampoo and her hair conditioned, she was seated in one of
the central chairs of the salon, so that everybody would be able to watch every detail of what was going to happen, as if it were an important rite.

On the instructions of Marcelo, who had gotten hieratic and distant, an electric blue cape was placed around Mona's neck by one of the girls. First, and also by direct orders from Marcelo, two girls straightened her rich and bulky mane with a styling iron, after many repeated strokes, after they had gottten it perfectly flat, it reached to the middle of her back. The red streaks in the hair were looking especially flashy as they were reflecting the light coming from the lamps above the mirror. The straightening had been severe and had resulted in some unnecessary hair pulling, by the unpracticed handling of the straightening clamps. The process had been an arduous taming which went on for more than half an hour. Mona was still under the naive illusion that her hair wouldn't be cut too short, although she preferred it curly, her face with prominent cheek bones also looked well with the straight hair divided by a severe center part.

When she once more was feeling Marcelo's fingers stoking her hair again and again, she thought that her boss just wanted a new look for her, maybe a different tone for the streaks and a trim; a few centimeters perhaps. But Marcelo had very different ideas. Everybody's attention was centered on the scene, an unusual expectation was going through the salon, like when the newbie's arrived and were forced to loose all their hair.

Marcelo was thinking of giving her a flattop, this was an idea that he'd been considering for some time. Sergeant Mona. With the androgynous facial features of the manageress, it might be the ideal look for her; it surely would suite her.

But in the end he discarded the idea. He wanted to be the master of ceremonies who started this special session. He took a cut-throat razor and began to make chaotic random cuts into Mona's abundant mane, who was finding it hard to believe what she was seeing in the mirror.

She was shocked, but didn't dare to offer any resistance.

Mona's geometrical and beautiful mane was being ragged by the razor. The strands were all of different thickness and length. Marcelo stopped only after Mona's mane was beyond any repair. Only a complete clipper shaving could have fixed that disaster. By then Mona, absolutely humiliated, naively believed her session had finished, and was thinking of possible ways to fix the haircut. But the show had just started. Now it was the girls' turn. The same girls that had been forced to get their heads shaved week after week would now be the shavers. It was a matter of historical justice. Those were the boss' thoughts while he was looking at the black and red hair strands on the shop floor.

So that the humiliation would be fiercer, Marcelo decided that the shaving should start from the front. He wanted Mona to see and feel what the girls had been feeling during the whole season. Lolita, one of the girls who had been forced to get rid of a more than 50 cm long mane, which she had been caring for since she was 12 years old, got the privilege of cutting off her boss' bangs. Several times she combed forward all the hair still remaining on Mona's head and pitilessly cut it off at the hairline with scissors. When the hair strands fell listlessly onto the cape, a teardrop came out of the woman's eye, who was suffering like an apprentice. There was a tense atmosphere in the salon that either could be expectation or tension. It would take Mona at least some two or three years to grow her hair back to its former length.

But that scene had just been the appetizer. Carmen got the privilege of turning on the clipper, she was one of the veterans, who because of her rank was sporting a number three buzz cut, with the top dyed outrageously green and the sides and back bluish-black.

"Shave the right side to zero length." The owner ordered.

The audience became silent with astonishment and expectation, the only noise that could be heard was the crying of the woman condemned to be shaved. Many a girl smiled weakly with thoughts of vengeance and some were even passing a hand over their shorn heads, thinking that soon their boss would be one of the group, without any distinctions.

"To zero!" The owner sentenced anew, without any concessions or mercy. No one dared to complain or question the categorical order. Carmen, frightened and fearful, shaved too on her day, removed the guide from the clipper head. Then she placed the cold steel blade on her boss' scalp. It was the moment to start shaving. 'To zero.' She began to get exited and in that instant she dreamed of kissing her boss, her thick and tender lips. It was an instinctive flash of protecting her boss, or maybe an involuntary seduction. Pure morbid thrill, anyhow. Was Mona's pussy shaved? Hers was. Finally she pushed the machine slowly and steadily forward, feeling a bit like committing a sweet crime. With the first stroke some straight and razor thinned hair strands began falling down, while a path of Mona's scalp was bared. Each second of buzzing resulted in one or two additional centimeters of exposed scalp.

Mona couldn't avoid shedding teardrops, while the girls took turns to cut, with a certain touch of revenge, path after path of the hair that had been her pride and symbol of power. The right side of the head of Mona the bossy woman with the formerly long mane was being stripped. Soon, on Mona's head there only remained long but thinned hair strands on the left side of the center part.

Just at that moment Marcelo decided to end the show. Mona was ordered to attend to the customers, her customers, in that ridiculous haircut during the rest of the day. In the evening, at home in front of the mirror in her bathroom, Mona had to buzz off shamefully the rest of the hair, in order to even out the cut.

The next day she came to work wearing a platinum blond wig bobbed in a style reminiscent of the 60s. The Universal Balance has worked again.

The End

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