It was exactly a week since my last headshave, and my scalp was already showing a thick, dark shadow of regrowth. I had promised Lily I’d return to her chair in two days, but a sudden avalanche of corporate deadlines had trapped me at my desk. Every time I ran my hand over my prickly scalp, I felt a pang of guilt.
Now, it was Sunday morning. The air felt unusually crisp and pleasant, carries a hint of summer warmth that made the entire city look brighter. Or maybe it just felt that way because I was finally on my way to see Lily.
Stopping by a local florist, I picked out a bouquet of deep red roses. If she was furious with me for breaking my word, I needed an peace offering.
I hurried down the street toward Lily’s Barber Shop. As the familiar striped pole came into view, my heart sank. The open sign was being flipped, and Lily was stepping outside, keys in hand. I checked my watch: 11:10 AM. It was exactly her closing time.
"Lily! Wait!" I called out, quickening my pace.
She turned around, locking the deadbolt with a decisive click. Seeing me, she didn't smile warmly as she usually did. Instead, she crossed her arms and offered a slow, beautifully sarcastic smirk.
"Well, look who decided to show up," she said, her voice dripping with playful malice. "A week late for your headshaving appointment."
"I am so sorry," I stammered, holding up the bouquet like a shield. "I got absolutely buried in work on Tuesday. I tried to break away, I swear."
Lily stared at the roses, then up at me, keeping her stoic expression for three agonizing seconds before her face softened into a radiant smile. She took the flowers, inhaling their scent. "Flattery might get you everywhere, but as you can see, the shop is closed."
"I didn't just come for a headshave, Lily," I said softly, stepping closer. "I mainly came to see you."
A faint blush crept up her cheeks. She looked down at the roses, her previous annoyance completely vanishing. "Is that so?"
"Let me buy you a coffee to make it up to you," I suggested, moving to plan number two.
"The café on the corner closes early on Sundays," Lily countered, though her eyes were dancing with amusement.
"We can find another spot. Somewhere downtown?"
"Most places around here will be closed by now," she said, stepping away from the barber shop door. She looked at me thoughtfully, tilting her head. "However... I happen to make an incredible cup of coffee. And my apartment is only a block away."
My heart did a nervous flip. "I would be a fool to say no to that."
Her apartment was an extension of herself—immaculately decorated, filled with warm lighting, vibrant plants, and a clean, comforting scent that reminded me of sandalwood and expensive shaving cream. It was a stark contrast to my bachelor pad.
She disappeared into the kitchen and returned minutes later with two steaming ceramic mugs. As we sat on her sofa, talking and laughing, the lingering tension from the workweek melted away. Every gesture she made, the way she laughed at my jokes, the way her eyes lingered on me—it all made me realize how deeply I was falling for her.
"So," Lily said, taking a sip of her coffee and eyeing my stubbly head. "Last week you mentioned something crazy. You said you were thinking about growing your hair back out. Why the sudden change of heart?"
I rubbed the back of my prickly neck, feeling a bit self-conscious. "Honestly? I felt like I couldn't impress a girl with a permanently bald head. I thought maybe having hair again would give me a better shot at finding someone."
Lily set her coffee mug down on the table with a soft clink. She moved closer to me on the couch, closing the distance between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from her.
"In that case," she whispered, her eyes locking onto mine, "you definitely need a headshave. Because you don't need to worry about impressing any other girl."
Before I could process her words, she leaned in and kissed me.
It wasn't a tentative, polite kiss. It was deep, filled with a quiet passion that left my mind spinning. When she finally pulled back, my heart was hammering against my ribs.
"I’ve given a headshave to hundreds of men," Lily murmured, her fingers tracing my jawline. "But with you, from the very first time you sat in my chair, it was completely different. I think we were both just too stubborn to admit it."
"Why didn't you say anything before?" I breathed.
"I could ask you the same thing," she laughed softly. "But now that we're on the same page, we have an appointment to keep."
Lily stood up and walked into her bedroom. When she returned, she was carrying a sleek leather handbag. She unzipped it and pulled out a heavy, professional-grade straight razor. The polished steel caught the living room light, gleaming with a sharp, intimidating beauty.
"Your hair gave you away last week," she said, flashing a mischievous smile. "From now on, it stays a smooth shaved head. If that pleases you, of course."
"Whatever you want," I replied, completely captivated.
Instead of setting up a traditional barber chair, she stood directly behind me on the couch. Habit took over, and I bent my head forward, preparing for the blade.
"No, look at me," Lily commanded gently.
She reached around, her warm fingers cupping my chin, and gently guided my face upward. I found myself looking backward and up into her eyes. She leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss directly onto my forehead.
She poured a small amount of warm water from a bowl she had brought out into her palms, pooling it over my scalp. She began rubbing it into my short, bristly hair, the water trickling down the sides of my face and temples.
Once my scalp was thoroughly prepped, she opened the straight razor. The blade hissed quietly as she unfolded it. She placed the cold steel right at the very front of my hairline, just above my forehead.
I watched her intently. Her expression shifted into one of intense concentration. She bit her lower lip slightly as she pulled the skin of my forehead taut with one hand and took the first long, deliberate stroke with the razor.
Scritch.
The sound of the blade slicing through a week's worth of hair growth was incredibly loud in the quiet apartment. She dragged the straight razor from the very front, all the way over the crown of my head in one continuous, masterful movement.
She paused, leaving a wide, stark white path of bare skin down the exact center of my scalp.
"What do you think?" she teased, peering down at me with a smirk. "Should we leave it like this? A reverse mohawk?"
"It’s your call," I laughed, my eyes never leaving hers. "You’re the one holding the razor."
"Don't worry, baby," she cooed, her thumb caressing my temple. "Your head is going to be smoother than ever when I'm done."
She dipped the razor into a mug of warm water on the side table, swirling it to rinse away the shaved stubble, and went back to work. Without a mirror, I had to rely entirely on my senses. Every time the steel met my skin, a wave of cool air hit the freshly exposed flesh. It felt incredibly liberating.
Lily worked meticulously. She didn't just shave; she perfected. She ran the straight razor multiple times over the exact same spot, adjusting the angle to ensure she was cutting completely against the grain. Within minutes, the entire top section of my head was completely devoid of hair. I was entirely bald from the forehead to the crown.
She stepped around to the front, looking down at her handiwork. Smiling, she ran her open palm over the bare skin, feeling for any imperfections.
"How does it feel?" she asked.
"You’ve rubbed my bald head plenty of times in the shop, Lily," I admitted, looking up at her. "But today? I’m loving it a whole lot more."
"Get ready," she whispered. "Soon it will be completely bald."
Moving to my left side, she tilted my head slightly to the right. The razor resumed its rhythmic song. Scritch. Scritch. With every downward stroke, I could feel the wet, shaved hair falling away, brushing against my cheek and shoulder.
"I'll clean you up when the headshave is finished," she murmured, focused on the tricky skin around my ear.
"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
Once the left side was bare, she moved to the right, repeating the precise process. The cool air in the room now swirled around almost my entire scalp. Only the back remained.
Lily dragged a cushioned chair directly in front of the couch and sat down. "Lean forward," she instructed.
I complied, lowering my head until my face was nestled comfortably against her lap. The scent of her perfume enveloped me. I felt her fingers spread across the top of my head to steady me as she placed the cold straight razor at the very base of my neck.
This time, she shaved upward. It was a aggressive reverse shave, designed to eliminate even the microscopic remnants of hair.
The sensation was intense. The blade glided smoothly from the nape of my neck all the way to the top of my crown. I could feel the warm, wet clumps of shaved hair falling directly onto her lap, but she didn’t seem to care at all. The crisp, clean sound of the razor cutting through the final patches of stubble filled the room.
After a few final, delicate strokes around the base of my skull, the scraping sound stopped. The heavy click of the straight razor folding shut signaled the end of the transformation.
I lifted my head from her lap, blinking against the light. I looked down and saw her jeans covered in dark, fine hair.
Lily set the razor aside and immediately placed both of her hands on my head. She rubbed her palms in circular motions across the entire surface, spanning from front to back, side to side. "Wow," she breathed, a genuine look of satisfaction on her face. "It is incredibly smooth."
Instinctively, I reached up to feel it for myself, but she caught my wrist, pulling my hand away.
"Not yet," she scolded playfully. "Don't touch it before the lotion."
She reached into her bag and poured a generous amount of a cooling, menthol-infused shaving lotion into her hands. As she applied it, a wave of intense, icy freshness washed over my entire scalp. She massaged it deep into the skin for two or three minutes, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the texture of my newly smooth shaved head.
"Okay," she finally whispered, releasing my wrist. "Now you can touch it."
I raised my hand and ran my palm across my scalp. I gasped slightly. It felt like polished marble. There wasn't a single microscopic hint of friction. It was, without a doubt, the cleanest, most flawless headshave I had ever received.
I looked up at her, amazed. "Why haven't you ever shaved my head this smooth at the shop?"
Lily giggled, a wicked, beautiful sound. She leaned down and kissed the very top of my bald head. "Because, dummy. If I made it this smooth at the shop, it would take you too long to need a return visit. I needed you back in my chair as often as possible."
A slow smile spread across my face. "Well, things have changed now."
"They certainly have," Lily agreed, brushing the shaved hair off her lap as she stood up. "Now, why don't you go freshen up and wash off those loose hairs? I'll get changed, and then we can start on that second round of coffee."
