HairSnip.com

This story is NOT to be downloaded as it is not an original story. The storyline was sent to me by a fan and out of respect, I am asking that NO one downloads this story for personal use.

For years. I have never found anything particularly attractive about women who would wear their hair super short. I always considered such people to be strange, abnormal for that matter. The idea of a woman submitting to a pair of clippers and being sheared, I considered it repulsive. Why would they agree to such a thing? A women's head of hair was always considered to be a thing of beauty and for me the longer, the better. That is what my mother always told me.

I remember one summer. Mom took me to the salon to get a trim before we embarked on our summer vacation. My hair was long, to the middle of my back. Mom liked it like that.

At the salon we ran into our neighbour. Her daughter was in my class. We were close, always walking to school together, having lunch together, studying; yes, friends. Good friends. She was also there to get her haircut before summer vacation but not a normal cut. Her mother pointed to a pair of black barber's clippers and told the stylist to cut her hair super-short. My mother was horrified as the sylist suggested the shortest version of a "PIXIE cut" possible.

"Don't you ever cut your long hair like that!!" Mom told me. "That is ugly. I don't like it! Promise me you will always keep your hair long." I made that promise. I would never cut my hair short. My hair would always remain long. But to my surprise, that idea changed for me one day.

I never knew there was such a thing as a hair fetish, or for that matter that a community dedicated to short-haired women existed. But to my surprise one day I actually got to see a woman get draped in a white cape and then watched her nod her head as the barber picked up a pair of clippers and brought the teeth of his beast to her forehead. I actually found myself turned on as he pulled the clippers down the middle of her head and as a swatch of hair fell to the floor in front of his feet, I actually found myself trying to catch my breathe.

Oh my God!!!!!!! The lady in the chair was being sheared!!!!! Her long hair was being peeled off her head. Why?????? But as I watched, the woman's smile grew larger. Wait!!!!! Mom told me that this was disgusting. No woman should ever do that kind of thing. But here I was, enjoying the view. It excited me and I found I could not walk away. I tried to walk away!!!!! If Mom would have been there with me, she would have dragged me away. Even forcefully!!!!!!! But no!!!!! I was here alone, by myself!!!! No one with me. I watched the whole haircut, from start to the end when the barber uncaped the woman and flicked the cape to the ground.

He did not even sweep the floor after he was done with the woman. The hair stayed there on the floor. He just called the next person to the chair.

That evening as I lay in my bed dreams took over. This is my story, the recollection of the dream and how this simple dream has motivated me to explore the idea more.

Now if I could only convince my boyfriend.........

The dream......................

(The only thing you need to know at this time is that DALE'S BARBERSHOP actually exists!!!!!! The conditions described are true. How do I know????? Well I actually, truthfully, do pass the barbershop on my way to work. Don't ask me to tell you where DALE'S is because if I do, I might as well tell you where I live. And I will not do that for anyone.)

The dream starts.............. There is a very small barbershop called DALE'S in a poor run-down neighborhood that I pass everyday on my way to and from work. Dale owns a small store in a strip of stores. It is one of the store fronts in a dilapidated, mostly vacant building. There is a nicer shop across the street but Dale's is always busy maybe because the haircuts are cheaper there. The city has been trying for years to demolish the strip and make the area a parking lot, just paving it over. Why they haven't, who knows?

The city could easily shut Dale down, buy the strip mall from the tenants and then tear it down and they would be in their rights to do so. But for some reason, DALE'S has managed to remain in that location.

The sidewalk is crumbled, the step into the shop is broken. The window is a little dirty but the barber pole is always running. And it is always shiny. When I walk by the barbershop in the morning, the door is usually wide open and people are already inside. The door is wide open because it is hot here and Dale's has no air-conditioning. But I know there is a large, tall fan in the far corner. And when I walk by, the television is always on.

Because the door is always open on these hot summer days, one can see the inside of the small, run-down shop. There are only two old barber chairs set pretty close together; two old-fashioned red chairs, genuine leather backs, cast iron foot rests. Hand pushed lifts. Every morning when I walk past, it guaranteed that the floor is already full of hair and tissue paper. (I wonder how often Dale sweeps the floor? I would be willing to bet that maybe once a day before closing.) Back to the dream.........It is only swept once at the end of the day and then only into a corner where it accumulates. (I think Dale cleans it up first thing in the morning when he comes in.)

I imagine that Dale and his assistant work long hours. Because there is always a flow of people. When I walk by the store in the morning, there are at least 10 people in the shop and when I go home in the evening, at 5:00pm, there are at least fifteen people inside. There isn't much room for chairs so most customers waiting their turn must stand and if they are not lined against the wall, they are standing outside of the shop. But they surely know when it is their turn.

The floors linoleum is old, cracked, and dirty. I wonder when was the last time someone actually took out a mop and cleaned the floor? But that does not matter!!! No one needs to stand very long though because Dale and his other barber are very fast with the clippers and clipper cuts and head shaves are about all they do because this is a shop that is in an Afro-American neighborhood and, even though Dale and his assistant are white, they cater mainly to Afro-American males.

(Back to reality for a minute.......I also know about DALE'S because my man works for the state and as a correctional inspector, he is required to maintain a certain standard. Part of that code is, I think it is called a HIGH-And-TIGHT? I know one thing, I love how it feels when I rub my hand over his head. It feels sexy. I also love how it smells when he is powdered and shaved.)

Back to the dream..........

My man wants to take me there because he finds very short hair on women very erotic. I want to do this for my man and have always fantasized about it anyway but could never do on my own. Also a part of the fantasy is rebellion from my Mom. I made the promise and I knew I would be kept to it. And as of this day, she still tells me she would be extremely upset if I went short. But my man is always complaining about how long it takes me to prepare myself when we go out. He is always telling me that one of these days, my long hair is going to be a thing of the past. I keep teasing him, saying that he will never have the courage to get me into the barber's chair.

I have a serious problem with authority and my teasing my man finally catches up with me one day. "You will never have the guts to take me to a barbershop," I tell him. "And if you could ever get me to even walk into the barbershop, I would fight you all the way."

My man tells me to get dressed in something sexy. "Let's go for a ride into the city," he says. "I have to pick up some supplies for work tomorrow." I am happy about that. I love going for rides in his shiny convertible and showing off my figure. I am wearing a short black skirt, black high heels, and a tight white top with long sleeves but very low cut in the front and back. But before I come down the stairs and leave the apartment, I still manage to spend 40 minutes on my hair. My hair is long, fluffy, and auburn in color.

I stand in front of the mirror with my ivory-handled brush and I am stroking my long locks. I love my hair and I love how it feels as I stroke it. I also know that if I was at home, Mom would be doing it for me. Of course, my man is not happy with that. He does not like to be kept waiting. He actually came upstairs to the bedroom and sighed in disgust as he saw me pulling a brush through my long hair. "I swear I am going to take you to the barbershop," he said as he stormed away.

"Yeah!!!! Right!!! You have said that so many times. You won't. All talk and no action. You just go outside and sit in the car and wait," I said as I continued. I finally finished and ran down the stairs to meet him. I got into the car and we drove off. I don't know what he was doing while he was waiting in the car but I find out really soon.

We drive around for about three hours, picking up things at the malls, stopping for lunch, and just relaxing. Finally around 3:00pm, we parked the car in a parking lot. "Let's go," he says. "There is one more thing we have to do, but we can walk there."

"Where are we?" I ask. "I don't recognize this area."

"You will see soon enough," my man said.

"I don't like this area. I am not comfortable here. I don't like all those people looking at me. I want to go back to the car," I said.

"Just a little further," he said. He purposely slowed down so that he was walking behind me. I kept going. The sooner I got out of this area, the better. "Just another 100 feet, down the hill a bit."

I kept walking. All I saw was an old strip of stores and of course the revolving barber pole. I turned to try and get away. But my man was behind me. "Just a bit further. Move on!" he ordered. I shook my head. I was not going to budge. He grabbed my arm and pulled me further. He pointed to the open door. I saw all kinds of men standing outside the door. They are all staring at me. No way! I am NOT going in there.

We are standing outside the shop. He points to the chair. "Get in that chair," my man orders me. I turn around and try to squeeze past him and get out the door. But there is no point. My man's hulking body makes it impossible to get past him. "The chair, now. Don't make me carry you over to it and deposit you in it. Because if I have to, I will tie you to the chair." I look at him and bow my head. I climb into the old chair and it squeaks as the barber turns the chair around so that I am looking in the cracked mirror.

The barber ignores me and simply asks my man, "What is it going to be today? Short, I assume? It is far too hot for all that hair."

My man nods his head as he steps back against the wall with all the other customers who are waiting to be attended to. The barber garbs an old frayed, dingy cape. He throws it over my shoulders and pulls it up. He turns and grabs a sheet of tissue and wraps it around my neck. He fastens the cape He is first a little confused as how to even approach cutting a white woman's long mane. He turns to the counter and grabs an old pair of scissors. A large pair. They actually look like material scissors that would usually be found in a fabric shop.

He starts by grabbing my long hair, twisting it into a long pony tail, leaving it hanging in his tight fist. He grabs a comb and pulls it through my locks. He then opens the blades of the scissors and cuts right through the long ponytail. He holds the ponytail up for everyone to admire. Then he just throws it down to the floor in front of his shoes. He smiles and I can tell he is starting to enjoy this! He then grabs sections of hair and cuts it short as close to my scalp as he can. Finally he puts the scissors down and he reaches for his large electric clippers (which are also old and a little nasty) and says: "I am going to make me super sexy for your man". With that he pushes my head down with force and starting at my nape, he stars shearing my head.

After using these clippers for seven minutes, doing the neck, around the ears and the crown area, he asks my man: "Is this what you had in mind today?"

My man shakes his head. "The small ones on the sides and back. Just like you do for me. A nice regulation sexy 'high and tight'." The barber smiles and is not very gentle. Since there are little hairs everywhere, he asks my man if he should rinse me off and he nods. The barber jacks the chair back and lowers my head into a dirty basin where the barber runs water over my freshly barbered head and neck removing all loose hairs. He shaves my neck and around my ears, stroking my bare skin. He then drops the razor into the basin and then rubs my head dry with a used towel.

Dale hands me back my gold earrings. He undoes the Velcro strip on the back of the soiled cape. He pulls the tissue paper from under the collar of my blouse. He then grabs the ends of the cape and just dumps my long auburn hair on the floor. "Next!!!!!" he yells out, I have not even had a chance to get out of the chair; let alone put my earrings back on. I struggle to do that and then slowly push myself out of the chair. My legs literally feel like rubber and I almost fall. Dale laughs and says: "Your woman should not have such a difficult summer, now!!!! It should be nice and cool, all the time, no more mass of hair burdening her down."

The stark contrast between my short black skirt, high heels, and low cut white top and my clippered head is shocking. My previously shiny, long, fluffy auburn hair is scattered under the barber's chair. But to my surprise, at that moment, Dale walks over to the corner and grabs a broom. He points to the empty chair, waiting for the next customer and then, quickly, he sweeps all my long locks into the corner into the pile. My man pays Dale and tells him: "As usual, an excellent job! I need you at the institution next week. Your usual arrangements. We will be back next month. Both of us."

As my man and I walk to the door to leave, Dale claps his hands and everyone in the shop and on the outside nod their heads. "Very sexy," they all say as we walk out and head back up the hill to find the car.

"They are right," my man says as he shoots me a smile. His hands gently touch the top of my head. "Sexy, indeed!!!!!!"

Well, guys, now if I could only convince my man to take me to DALE'S and actually live out my dream.................. I wonder how he would feel if I told him I had such a fantasy? How I would love to wear a "high and tight" as he does and how I find it super sexy? How do you think he would react? Well, maybe I will find out sooner then I expect.

My boyfriend is going to DALE'S tomorrow for his monthly haircut. Maybe I will accompany him for the first time. Hopefully NOT the last time. Do you think it would freak him out if I walked to the chair as soon as he gets out?

hairman001

Copyright protected ? JCWP DESIGN SERVICES 2004 Legally REGISTERED ? 2000 This story is NOT to be downloaded by anyone without the legal consent of the author under serious prosecution. If you want a copy of this story, all you have to do is ask, nicely, and I will send you a copy. If I find this story on any other site, I will prosecute with all I have when it comes to Canadian copyright laws.

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