The Barber Shop

For a moment the world flickered, as if every light source had been replaced by a strobe. Kelli blinked, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, the sensation had ceased. Taking in his surroundings, there was a brief moment of confusion, which was chased away by a placid settling of clarity.

Kelli was in Girl World.

More specifically, he was in the waiting room of a barber shop. While he didn’t remember entering into the establishment, Kelli felt know anxiety. In Girl World you were safe, you were cared for. His vacation thus far had proven that while some experiences were somewhat unorthodox, each one landed him in a better position than the one before.

The barber shop was nothing special, much like the barber shops he would have seen back home. Mirror-backed glass shelves lined the walls with fruity hair products. A Rotating display near Kelli’s seat held various branded make-ups that the shop was distributing, and a sign indicated that they were all included in the basic resort package. The coffee table before him held fashion and style magazines for him to browse.

As he took in the beat of the wordless tune playing on the speakers embedded in the ceiling, Kelli smiled. Even though he had come to Girl World to meet women, it was great to find places like this that so obviously catered to their male clientele.

Back home Kelli wasn't the kind of guy to hang out in a garage fixing a car. He'd never built a house, nor had he ever played a full-contact sport. He just wasn't that kind of man.

But right then, sitting in the waiting room, reading the most recent copy of Vogue, Kelli realized that with a few changes to his life, he could become that kind of man. In his regular life Kelli would have never gone to such an upscale barber shop. The pink walls, the free perfume samples... no, Kelli would have felt much more comfortable in something unassuming like a mall discount hair dresser. But there he was, in a man's man's honest-to-God barber shop, feeling completely comfortable in his own skin. It made him take serious stock of his life.

"Kelli?" a voice drew his eyes away from the fashion spread on the glossy page and up to see who he assumed was his hairdresser. A short man with a blond up-do, tight black pants, and a black blouse with a plunging neckline. On his feet were a pair of very high heeled sandals, and over his clothes a black apron. Both extremely practical decisions, one to help him overcome his diminutive stature, the other to keep his clothes clean and carry hair styling implements. It was this type of pragmatism he expected from these male-targeted establishments, nothing frivolous or overly fancy like at those high-prices salons that appealed to the women in his life.

Kelli climbed to his feet, pausing to put his purse’s strap over one exposed shoulder. His orange tube top, while stylish, did leave his shoulders open to the cool air of the barber shop. He wondered if big beautiful nipples were making themselves known out front of his huge, masculine breasts. He hoped so, as at any point he could run into one of the famed women of Girl World, and what better way to let then know that he was a real man than letting them see what he had under his shirt.

"Right this way," the barber said, walking away from him, his round ass swaying as he walked toward the washing station.

Kelli let himself be led through the establishment. He was surprised to find himself the only customer, despite the fact that it seemed to be a well put-together place. At least twelve hair-cutting stations with well-lit mirrors lined the exterior walls. A bank of reclining chairs and sinks ran a line down the centre. At the back of the room were five hair drying seats with articulating half-globe dryer's hovering just above the chairs. Two passage-ways, both without doors, led to spaces in the back, but Kelli was unable to see what they held, as curtains had been hung where doors would have been.

He sat in the first hair-washing station, felt his chair lean back, and rested his head on the indented rim of the sink.

"What can we do for you today, darling?" the barber asked, warming up the water.

"Just a trim," Kelli said, "Maybe a shave too, if you have time."

"Baby, I've got all the time in the world," came the answer as the hot water rinsed through Kelli's short-cropped, yet unkempt hair, "I'll make you beautiful, don't worry."

Kelli liked the sound of that.

The water on his scalp, the scent of the flowery shampoo, and the artful touch of Kelli’s barber massaging his scalp all instantly brought Kelli into a state of deep relaxation. The soft yet driving beat of the piped-in music pulled him deeper. If he had been given the option in that moment, Kelli would have chosen to stay at that washing station for the remainder of his vacation.

As he was moved from the reclined chair to the barber’s chair, a long smock tied around his neck, Kelli barely noticed. He was struggling to keep his eyes open when he was handed a flute of Champaign.

“Drink this, sweetie,” his barber said in an innocent voice, “it’ll help you relax and enjoy yourself.”

Even in his placid state he was able to recognize that if he were any more relaxed, he would be ****. Still, wanting to have the entire barbershop experience, he tilted his head back and swallowed the bubbly drink in one gulp.

“You must have been thirsty!” His barber giggled, taking the flute from him, “Now you just sit back and let me turn you into someone the boys can be thirsty for too!”

Kelli didn’t exactly understand what the barber meant by that, but since he was feeling so tranquil, and since he was already feeling the effects of the drink, he just closed his eyes and trusted the process. He drifted into slumber to the sound of a soft beat, his barber humming a tune, and the rhythmic snipping of scissors, knowing full well that he was in good hands.