My new Mistress Hairdresser V: My new friend
By Robert Towers
I’m really not sure how this all happened... how this came to be me... or, if in fact this even is me any more.
Walking out of my home to my Mistress’s salon into a chill afternoon wind is a shock to my newly exposed ears and neck; I’m not prepared for how strange it feels to be parted from my long hair. As I walk along the high street I’m very self conscious and people seem to be looking at me, some even a little surprised to see a once attractive young woman with a very old fashioned severe hair style.
I can’t really believe I am going to do this what am I thinking?
Entering mean passing into the now familiar wall of smells that hair salons generate.
The salon inside was quite busy with three old ladies under the dryers and two more in the styling chairs. I allowed my eyes to dart about the room, furtively glancing at all the activity.I must be the only person here under sixty. Wait...
My eye was drawn to a young woman sitting in one of the waiting chairs. She was about the same age as me, maybe a little shorter in height, it was hard for me to tell. But she did stand out, as somewhat out of place, in that her hair actually looked normal. It was a nice reddish, auburn in color and she wore it in a modified page style, parted in the center and pushed back and fastened just above and behind her ears with simple barrettes. I was pretty sure that her lovely hair and that charming style wouldn’t last long in here.
I immediately was drawn to her. Her eyes were darting nervously around the room. She seemed to be alone. She seemed a kindred spirit.
I moved toward her and sat in the seat next to her. Stupid crinoline popped right up in front of me.
My heart is pounding and my stomach is in a tight knot.
She seemed astoundingly nervous and jumped when I spoke.
“Hi! Is this your first time?”
“Oh! You startled me!
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just that you don’t look like you’ve ever been under the shears here.”
“Oh, my, no. I’m sorry, how rude of me. My name is Diane. Diane Callaghan. Please, you just call me Diane, ok?.
“Well, Hello Diane, pleased to meet you. My name is...”
Before I could finish my words, Becky approached us. She no longer looked more like a high school girl.
I was stunned when she walked to us with a new hairstyle herself, a old and traditional one.
She looked a large slightly blue bouffant and wore a starched white dress just like the one’s worn by my Mistress.
“Missy Crissy, Hello my dear I’ve scheduled you with Alison at 10:30 set, so she is nearly ready for you. Five more minutes, till Alison can get to you come. I must say it’s very refreshing to see a lady like you with such lovely tight curls”
“Thank you” is all I can say, and reach up and touch the soft tight curls on top of my head.
I was sitting fuming. Then I give in to my emotions.
“Wow, Becky. You really look so diferent,” I said. “What brought all this on?”
“You started it,” replied Becky. “When I saw your new ‘do’, I thought a little change wouldn’t hurt me, either. I have always wanted to do this and thought ‘what the heck, you only live once’. And, well, here I aml!”
“What does Alison think of it?” asked me, curious as to what Becky’s employer, my mistress, response was.
“Oh, to say she loves it would be an understatement. Alison periodically suggested that I go all the tradicional way. Deep down I knew that I really wanted to but was scared to try it. Finally, she convince me. I don’t think I could make such a drastic change alone.”
“Well, you really do look diferent.”
“Thanks, Missy Crissy. I guess it’s time we got back to work,” said Becky.
When we were alone again, Diane asked me:
“Missy Crissy, Is That your name?.
“No, no, my name is Cristine. It just seems like everyone calls me Missy Crissy around here.
“Cristine then. That’s a real pretty name. Do you come here often? My husband Lou suggested I go out and get some new clothes and pamper myself a little bit, like here with Alison but…”
“But?”
“I don’t konw if this salon the right place for me… but Lou told me, just to tell Alison and she’ll just pamper me to death!”
I restrained the urge to tell this girl to run away while she could, for some reason.
“May I make you a question, Cristine?”
“Sure”
“Why, a young girl like you have that old hairstyle? Your hair really looks so strange. It makes you look older.”
My mind was racing. I wanted to say her the true, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
I had quieted down as soon as I saw Alison approached us.
She walked over and asked slyly: “Well, who’s this then?”
“Oh, just a new client.” I responded. “I’m reddy for you Alison”
“Not so fast.” She said, holding out his hand. “You haven’t introduced us. My name’s Alison.”
“Mine’s Diane.” She said, shaking her hand. “I was telling Cristina that her hairstyle makes her look older.” She continued, innocently.
“I say same her but she likes it” Alison said.
I’m wearing other people’s clothes and look like a freak. I felt uncomfortable and my face began to flush.
“Crissy, dear, why not bring a cup of coffe for Diane?”
I went to the the back room where Becky put some coffee into a pan, heated it, mixed in some pills and brought the coffee to me.
I went to the waiting area. Diane and Alison chatted like old friends.
“Ah, Crissy...Sit down, sit down! She made a cup of coffee for you Diane...drink up, then we’ll get started on that lovely mane of yours.”
Diane accepted the cup of steaming tea from me. “Aren’t any of you going to have a cup?” she inquired mildly.
“Errr...no,” Alison replied quickly.
“Well...okay...but I wish you’d join me.”
Alison made small talk while Diane drank the coffee. Soon, her eyes glazed over and her mouth fell into an easy smile. Wow. What’s going on here? Another victim? Diane was beaming now, she seemed genuinely excited, plenty nervous in anticipation of her up coming moment in the chair. Alison looked at me triumphantly. “That was remarkably easy,” She observed. “Well, shall we get started?”
Becky and Alison each took an arm and escorted Diane to one of the salon’s workstations.
I watched her settle into the chair. She was laughing at something. Then Alison snapped a cape into the air and brought it over and around her, looking for the entire world, like a toreador at the beginning of a great performance.
She combed hervery long hair and then from a drawer she took scissors and started to cut Diane’s hair at the backside.
In between I saw that Becky seemed to have prepared a kind of liquid and I was too shy to cancel her activities and wondered what would happen.
Diane’s hair had been cut as well and her hair reached halfway her neck. And Alison hairdresser started to wrap her hair around rollers, which reminded me when I visited her in my first appointment.
Suddenly, Becky took some gloves and a brush and started to apply the liquid on my hair. My hair!!!
“Ok, Hon, We can do it by easy way or hard way. I haven’t patience like Alison. If you do not stay quiet and calm here, I will drug you like Diane”.
I shut my mouth and calm down. What else can I do? It won’t be so bad... right? It isn’t like I have to get breast implants, shove a feather up my ass and do high kicks in Vegas…right?
“Good Choice Hon. “Pretty exciting isn’t it” she said “This will make you look
even better.”
I tried to look over sideways toward Diane, without moving my head. I was deathly afraid. Through bleary eyes, it looked like Alison was now fastening it up, above her head with rollers. Becky moved into my field of vision, blocking my view.
The liquid stung a little as it went on but within a few minutes
it felt cool and relaxing. She worked quickly. Soon my head was completely saturated.
At first the solution appeared almost clear but by the time Kate was
done it had begun to turn a shade of light violet. During the next
twenty minutes the light violet became a deep purple.
“Ok, Hon, you’re all covered. That wasn’t so bad was it? Now I’ll put a cap and some cotton, then you can go sit under the dryer for a spell and before you know it, you’ll be done. When I get you combed out, you’ll love it. You’ll never want to fool around with your previous tone again. Guaranteed.”
Then Becky put a plastic cover over my hair and placed cotton balls around my face.
“Missy. Missy Crissy.”
It was Diane. She was softly calling my name.
“Missy Crissie, It’s me. Missy Di”
I looked over toward her. She was smiling at me. She looked so sweet. Her hair was all up in curlers now, compacted against her head beneath a tight hairnet, with those little cotton pads covering her ears. Alison was brushing a lot of clipped hair from her cape. I wondered how much had been cut off. I couldn’t really tell, but it seemed drastic. I didn’t see much of anything left on her neck, certainly not enough to put around a curler.
Diane leaned in my direction, as she started to get up and out of her seat. I noticed she also rocked a bit back and foreword before she rose. The motion seemed so natural for her.
“Missy Crissy, I’m going over to sit under the dryers now. Maybe when we’re both finished, we can go back to our place for some tea. You could meet Lou. WOWW, Missy Crissy, your hair really looks so nice. It makes you look so lovely. I can’t wait to see mine. I’m so excited.”
Diane headed off to the dryers. I didn’t know what to make of it. She was enjoying this? She thinks I look nice?
“Forty-Five minutes under the dryer for you, there’s no turning back now.” Said Becky.
I went to the gleaming dryers. I backed in and bent to sit down in the empty seat, as Becky guided my head under the chrome helmet and then lowered the amber visor. Then she offered me a magazine and my glasses. I giggled and took it from her, I wore glasses and Becky turned on the giant machine.
Diane (missy Di now?) was in the next dryer, smiling me. I saw that her lips were moving, but I could no longer hear a thing as the motor revved up to speed.
There we were sitting and to kill the time I took my magazine, sometimes wondering what happened under the cap. Soon I did not have any concentration for the magazine and started to imagine what I might see as soon as my head would be freed again.
Suddenly I started to feel very weak and tired. And Missy Di seemed like me.
Slowly, coughing and yawning, our eyelids closing, our eyes rolling into the back of our heads, Diane and me succumbed to the deep sleep.
Before falling asleep I noticed Diane had fallen asleep under the dryer while she read a magazine with her glasses with chain.
She still was smiling.