"Staring at the printer won't make the quarterly reports come out any faster, Ron," Seema said.
She was leaning against the door frame of the supply closet, her voice light and cheerful. Ron jumped a little, squeezing a few toner boxes against his chest. He had been standing there for three minutes, trying to figure out why the machine made a weird clicking sound every few pages. He gave her an awkward smile, and she laughed. The sound echoed in the small, cramped room.
The Sterling Logistics office was just a bunch of beige cubicles and buzzing lights. Usually, the most exciting part of the week was getting a new flavor of coffee in the breakroom. Ron had worked there for two years, mostly keeping his head down and doing his job. Seema was his boss, and she ran the whole department. She was smart, quick to make decisions, and had a lot of energy.
"I think it's jamming in the bottom tray," Ron said, pointing at the machine.
"Forget it, it's a lost cause," Seema said with a wave of her hand. "Come with me instead. I need you to check the formatting on the client slides before the meeting. My eyes are getting blurry."
"The slides are almost done," Ron said, following her down the hall. "I just need to fix the margins on the last couple of pages."
He walked into her office a few minutes later and shut the door. The room smelled like air purifier and a bit of sandalwood. Seema had stepped out into the hallway to answer a quick phone call, leaving her computer screen on. Ron walked over to plug in his laptop, but something caught his eye on her monitors.
A video was looping on the screen. It was a high-quality digital clip of Ron himself. In the video, he was sitting in a chair while a pair of floating hands shaved his head completely bald. The digital version of him looked surprised, then totally calm as chunks of hair fell away until his head was smooth and shiny.
Ron looked closer, clicking into a folder on her desktop. It was full of edited photos. There were pictures of him at the company picnic and the holiday party, but in every single one, he was completely bald. His head in the photos looked perfectly smooth, almost like it had been polished. Ron felt a sudden warmth on his own head, suddenly very aware of his thick brown hair. He was so busy looking at the screen that he didn't hear the door open.
"See something you like, Ron?" Seema asked. Her voice wasn't playful anymore.
Ron jumped, almost knocking over a small vase on her desk. He started to stutter, trying to make up an excuse about looking for a plug, but Seema walked right up to him. She looked back and forth between the screen and his face. She didn't yell or threaten to fire him. Instead, she just smiled.
"That's a private folder, Ron," she said quietly.
The mood in the room changed instantly. Seema leaned over his shoulder. "Tell you what," she whispered. "Keep this to yourself, and you keep your job. You might even get a raise. But if anyone else finds out about this, you're done here."
"A raise sounds good," Ron muttered. He felt a mix of panic and confusion. He had just spent minutes looking at a fake version of himself, and now his boss was standing right next to him, waiting for his answer.
The next three days were awkward. Seema didn't bring up the folder again, but things felt different. She kept calling him into her office for random tasks that didn't make sense, like organizing a filing cabinet that was already done, or checking a spreadsheet that didn't have any mistakes. Every time, she stood a little too close, looking up at his hair.
By Friday afternoon, the office was empty. Seema walked over to his desk and put a hand on his shoulder.
"My car is at the shop," she said, her voice turning warm and confident again. "But I realized I left my house keys in the glove box of the loaner car, which is parked in your garage since you dropped it off for me. Drive me home? I'll make it worth your time."
The drive to her townhouse was completely quiet. When they walked inside, the house was cool and smelled clean. Seema didn't take him to the living room. Instead, she led him straight into a bright bathroom that looked like a fancy spa. There was a big mirror, a leather chair in the center, and a full grooming kit on the counter with electric clippers and a straight razor.
"Sit," she said softly.
Ron hesitated, his heart beating fast. He looked at the door, then at Seema. He knew that saying no would ruin his career, but the loud buzz of the clippers made him nervous. He slowly sat down in the chair.
Seema didn't waste any time. She stood behind him and tilted his head forward. "Just relax, Ron," she whispered. "If you move around, you might get cut."
The loud hum of the clippers filled the small bathroom. Ron closed his eyes as the cold metal touched the top of his forehead. Seema moved the clippers straight back through the middle of his hair. Ron felt a strange lightness as a big clump of brown hair fell past his eyes and landed on his lap. He gasped and wanted to pull away, but her hand held his shoulder firmly.
She worked quickly and carefully, moving from the middle out to the sides. Every few seconds, Ron heard the sound of hair hitting the floor tiles. The vibration of the motor against his head actually started to feel relaxing, washing away his nerves. By the time she finished with the sides, Ron looked in the mirror. He looked totally different. His head was covered in short, rough stubble.
"The clippers are just the start," Seema said, turning the machine off. The room went dead silent.
She grabbed a can of shaving cream, shook it, and sprayed a large amount into her hand. She rubbed the thick foam all over his head in big circles. It felt cold and heavy against his fresh skin. Ron stared at his reflection, looking like a white sculpture. He swallowed hard. The clippers were easy, but the razor was next.
Seema picked up the straight razor. She took a moment to slide the blade back and forth against a leather strap. Shick-shick.
"Hold still," she whispered. She placed her fingers on his forehead to keep him steady, then pressed the sharp blade against his skin.
The razor moved smoothly through the stubble. It left behind a strip of completely bare, smooth skin. Ron gasped a little at how cold the steel felt. He wanted to flinch, but Seema’s hand kept him in place. She took long, steady strokes from the top of his head down to his neck, shaving the sides with ease. It felt like his old self was being scraped away with every turn of the blade.
When she finished, Seema leaned in close to check her work. She took a warm, wet towel and wiped away the leftover foam and loose hairs.
Ron blinked at the mirror. He barely recognized himself. His face looked sharper and more open. He reached up and touched the top of his head. The skin felt totally smooth, almost like glass. He had no idea his head could feel that way.
Seema moved closer, looking at his bare head with a satisfied smile. The bathroom was quiet, save for the faint sound of the house fan. Ron sat frozen, breathing softly. He felt incredibly exposed without his hair, like he had lost a shield.
"Perfect," she whispered.
She picked up a small glass bottle from the counter. She opened it, and the smell of sandalwood and almond oil filled the room. She poured a few drops into her hands, rubbed them together to warm them up, and placed her palms on his head. Ron let out a long breath as she began to massage his scalp.
The massage was slow and steady. Her fingers moved up from his neck to the top of his head. The oil made her hands slide easily over his skin. Ron stopped worrying about his job or how weird the situation was. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it. The warmth from her hands relaxed all the muscles in his neck and shoulders.
Seema rubbed his head in slow circles, using just enough pressure. "Your head is perfectly shaped, Ron," she whispered. "Most people have bumps, but yours is smooth."
He didn't know what to say. The nervousness was completely gone, replaced by a calm, heavy feeling. He liked the contrast of the cool bathroom air against the warm, oily skin where she was touching him.
Seema stepped back a bit. She took a soft cloth and gently wiped off the extra oil. She caught his eye in the mirror. The threat of losing his job had gotten him into the chair, but he actually liked the result. He looked at himself without his thick hair. He looked confident and sharp.
"Don't move," Seema said softly. She picked up a small hand mirror and held it up so he could see the back of his head.
Ron took a quiet breath. The shave was perfect. There wasn't a single spot of hair left. His skin caught the bright bathroom light, glowing slightly from the almond oil. He thought he would look silly, but seeing the clean lines of his head actually gave him a boost of confidence.
Seema rubbed the top of his head one more time. "The videos didn't do it justice," she said, looking right at him. "It looks much better in person."
Ron felt a wave of warmth in his chest. All his fear was gone. He reached up and felt the back of his neck. It was smooth as marble and very sensitive.
"I guess the raise is still happening?" Ron asked, his voice steady.
Seema laughed naturally, breaking the quiet tension. She stepped away and put the razor back on the counter. "The raise is a sure thing, Ron. Think of it as a bonus for cooperating." She turned back to look at his shiny head. "But let's be clear: you have to keep it like this from now on."
Ron stood up, feeling a strange lightness on top of his head. It felt like a weight had been lifted off him. He walked over to the mirror and turned his head side to side. The oil made his clean scalp reflect the overhead lights perfectly.
I’ve always been drawn to the smooth, unblemished expanse of a bald head. There’s something about it that thrills me, something that makes ...