The afternoon sun was streaming into my office while I worked through a mountain of paperwork. Seema, my secretary, walked in with her usual professional poise, notepad in hand. When I asked about my schedule, she noted the afternoon was clear, save for a haircut appointment in the evening. I leaned back, offering a playful smile. "What do you think, Seema? How should I get it cut this time?" "Honestly? I think a bald head would look good on you," she said. I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. She quickly laughed it off, saying she was just kidding, but I pressed her. I told her that since she spent so much time with me, her opinion carried weight.
"Well," she challenged, "if you really want my suggestion, you should go for a full headshave. Get it smooth shaved." The air in the room changed. She didn't think I’d do it; I could see the spark of a dare in her eyes. I stood up and grabbed my coat. "If that’s what you want, let’s get it done. Come with me." The atmosphere at the shop was quiet until we walked in. The barber, expecting a routine trim, looked confused as I sat in the chair and gestured toward Seema. "She’s in charge today," I said. "Whatever she picks." Seema scanned the style posters on the wall. Her finger landed decisively on a picture of a man with a completely smooth shaved head. "That one," she said firmly. "Smooth bald." The barber paused, his hand hovering over his tools. "Seriously? You want a total headshave?" "Do it," I confirmed. The barber draped the cape over me, the fabric tight around my neck. He saturated my hair with water, making it heavy and dark. Then, with a clinical click, he loaded a fresh, gleaming blade into the straight razor. Seema’s expression shifted from playful to concerned. She waited for me to call it off, but I remained silent. The first stroke of the straight razor was cold and decisive. He started at the very top, dragging the blade toward the nape of my neck. A wide, pale path of skin appeared instantly. Seema’s eyes went wide as she watched the first clump of hair falling after shaved head was initiated. I caught Seema’s reflection in the mirror. She was mesmerized and seemingly stunned that I was actually becoming a bald head man right before her eyes. As the razor moved to the front, more hair falling obscured the cape until the top of my head was entirely bare. Within minutes, the sides were gone too. The barber finished and wiped away the stray lather. I stood up, feeling the sudden chill of the air on my skin. I was now completely, undeniably bald. As we walked to the car, the silence was heavy. Once inside, I broke it. "Well? What do you think of the headshave?" Seema couldn't stop staring at my smooth shaved head. She burst into a fit of nervous, excited laughter. "I can't believe you did it! You could have stopped him at any second!" "I told you," I said, looking her in the eye, "I did it because you asked." She reached out, her palm resting against the skin. She began rubbing my shaved head, her fingers exploring the new texture. "It’s bold," she whispered, "but you know... I think it could have been shaved even smoother." I leaned in closer. "Are you volunteering to make it a smooth shaved head yourself?" She gave me a look that was no longer professional—it was purely flirty. "I think I’d like that." "Only if you're the one holding the razor," I replied. "Deal," she said. "My place. I have everything we need to get it perfectly smooth."
