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rugtopper · 4 months

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I Hate Butterscotch

By Rugtopper

I was beyond excited. After making every excuse imaginable to see my dentist whenever I could over the years, Dr. Goldstein finally asked me out to dinner. Yes, I guess I could have been bold and asked him myself, but he is at least 25 years older than me. I have had a crush on him since I was a teenager. He is so handsome and dapper. He also has something else that most anyone, male or female, would find off-putting. He wears a toupee. It's not high quality in any way. It doesn't even match the color of his real hair. You see, I have this bizarre problem: I have a fetish for toupees. Every time I'm in that dentist's chair, I get so turned on just staring at Dr. Goldstein's hard, fake hairline. His toupee is a deep chestnut brown, very thick and full, with a traditional left-sided part. The thing that makes it stand out is the upsweep off the forehead. There are far better hairpieces on the market that he could have purchased, but for whatever reasons he went with a less-than-perfect facsimile of human hair. I have never said anything to him about it, although I have wanted to.

The night finally arrived. I had changed my mind nine times over what to wear. I knew he was taking me to a very upscale restaurant, so I knew I needed to wear a suit. I had debated which of the three I owned to wear, and decided to wear the dark navy; then, there was the decision about the tie. I had many in my collection that had belonged to older male relatives who had passed on. Twenty minutes before he arrived, I finally decided on a bright floral. My shirt was crisp and white. My undershirt was taut across my pecs and clearly apparent underneath. I had decided to wear these silly silk pink boxer shorts with red and white hearts on them - just in case. I had gone all-in with garters for my socks. I had worn them since college. A fraternity brother had gotten me into them.

Dr. Goldstein arrived on time looking handsome as ever in a dark charcoal suit. Like me, his shirt was crisp and white, but thicker than mine. Still, I could see the faint outline of the scoop of his a-shirt. I knew he had more traditional leanings in apparel. When I opened my front door, my voice caught in my throat. The way the porch light seemed to magnify the artificiality of his hairpiece took my breath away. I didn't want to go to the restaurant. I just wanted him in my bed with his hair on my dresser. Still, I managed to find my voice and greet him.

"Good evening, Dr. Goldstein."

"None of that 'doctor' stuff tonight, Chris. Please call me Jake. Now, are you ready? That restaurant won't hold our reservation."

"Sure, of course."

I'll skip over the dinner conversation. It was pleasant, but pedestrian. The food was excellent. I thought that I had been fairly successful in avoiding staring at his hair, but I guess I failed because as we got to dessert and coffee Jake put his fork down and looked directly into my eyes.

"Uh, Chris, is there something wrong with my hair? You keep staring at it."

I immediately crossed my legs and said, "I am so sorry, Jake. I didn't mean to stare, or embarrass you. I never would want to do that."

"Then why do you keep staring at it? You seem to do it all the time, especially when you're in the chair for your checkups."

"I apologize, Jake. It's just that . . . Never mind. I can't say."

"Of course you can, Chris. I've known you since you were 12. You can tell me anything."

"Okay. Uhm . . . I don't want to embarrass you or hurt your feelings."

"You won't, Chris. Now, just say it."

I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted very bitter, so I added another spoonful of sugar and took another sip. "Okay. Jake, I really love your hair. I think it is so beautiful. There, I finally said it out loud". After I said that, I tightened my crossed legs even more to keep what little I had from popping up.

At first, Jake got this slightly shocked look on his face, then he seemed to blush.

"You didn't hurt my feelings at all Chris. In fact, I'm quite flattered. But, I'm also somewhat embarrassed."

"I'm so sorry, Jake. Now I'm embarrassed for upsetting you." I took another sip of coffee.

"Chris, I'm not upset, but I am a little embarrassed. You see, this is very difficult for a man to admit, but I actually wear a toupee."

I crossed my legs even tighter, forcing my nuts to roll up inside myself! I tried to keep a pleasant look on my face, but I was so excited. I was also suddenly flushed and slightly dizzy.

"It looks great," I lied to him. Actually, it looked great for someone with my issues, but it looked bad for someone who is trying to convince the world that his hair is real.

"I had to start wearing one when I was in college. A lot of men are embarrassed about losing their hair, especially at a young age. Are you okay, Chris? You don't look well." What I tried to say was, 'I feel fine if a bit warm'. What came out was some sort of incoherent gibberish. After that, I think I passed out, but I really don't remember.

The next thing I do recall was the acrid smell of burning hair, and a coolness on my knees. I slowly opened my eyes. I was sitting in a huge barber's chair with a clear cape covering me, yet I could see my undergarments! What was going on? I looked up and saw my reflection in a huge mirror. There was a husky man standing behind me. He had the most exquisite black pompadour, clearly a full wig. He was holding a tiny pen with a cord attached. He kept touching the top of my head with it. Each time he did, I felt a slight tinge and smelled burning hair - my hair. There was only stubble on the top, but the rest of my hair on the back and sides had been trimmed very short. I tried to talk, but was unable to utter a word. In front of the mirror was a shallow ledge. There were two styrofoam wig heads with a very dark ginger toupee on each. At first I tried to think who I'd like to see wearing them. As my mind cleared more and more, I realized that those toupees were for me. As this reality became clear, I saw Jake via the mirror walking toward me.

"Oh, good. I'm glad you are finally waking up, Chris. You know, I love the cute boxer shorts you wore just for me. Still, it's a waste of all that silk to cover that little dicklet of yours. I bet you sit down to pee. Still, it's good to know you have some traditional leanings in your choice of apparel."

"What's going on, Jake?" It sounded somewhat slurred. I must have still been hung over from whatever was in that bitter coffee.

The husky barber continued to denude my scalp while Jake spoke.

"Chris, you are very intelligent. I think you have figured it out. I am flattered by your schoolboy crush. I even found the story you wrote about me. Now, don't look so startled. I recognized myself in the story immediately, even if you did change my name. You see, Chris, you were very chatty a few months ago during that extraction surgery. Afterwards, with Antonio's professional skills, I decided to help you become the mature man you have longed to be. I think you need to know what it's like to have everyone stare at your hair all the time."

As Jake finished talking, he took a step back. Antonio took one of the toupees off the styrofoam head and applied four pieces of tape to the underside. Two of the pieces of tape were curved. They were placed at the front and back of the hairpiece. On the sides were placed two straight strips. Antonio quickly placed the toupee on my head. The perimeter was rather stiff. The tape immediately stuck to my scalp. When Antonio had my new hair on my head, I felt the curved tape in back adhere just above my occipital bone. I knew then that I was forever going to be a Norwood Six male patterned bald man in a rug. I could feel the light mesh foundation of the center of the toupee against my smooth, sensitive bald head. The toupee was thick and full with a fixed left-sided part. The texture was smoother than my own hair. The contrast between my flat brown hair and what had been taped to my head was stark to say the least. Antonio began trimming my new, fake hair with scissors. He used a small handheld steamer in the front. Suddenly I could tell he was giving me the same up-sweep that Jake's toupee had. I realized that apart from the color, I had the same model toupee as Jake did. The laser wand Antonio had earlier used had killed the hair on the top of my head. It has also destroyed the hair at my temples. Without that, it was even more glaringly obvious what I had on my head. My little dicklet decided to do a happy dance. I was enjoying my new look without a thought about the day-to-day life experiences I would certainly encounter.

I was mesmerized, humiliated, vulnerable, and thrilled all the same time. I was also a little upset.

"It's butterscotch," I blurted out. "I hate butterscotch."

"I know Chris. You told me after that surgery as the nitrogen oxide was wearing off. You told many, many things. You told me about your crush you have had for me, and you told me one other thing."

As Antonio finished styling my new hair, Jake walked up behind me, leaned down beside my ear, and whispered, "you have a great toupee, Chris, but it's still just a cheap toupee."

The End

#cheap toupee #hair replacement for men #toupee for men #voluntary bald fringe #male transformation #men's sock garters #men's tank tops #wifebeater #men in boxers #vintagemen #men's wigs #a-shirt #boxer shorts #sock garters #traditional men #becoming traditional #wifebeaters #tanktop

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rugtopper · 6 months

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CONFESSIONS OF A FETISH BARBER

BY RUGTOPPER

Sam picked up the telephone after it rang the second time.

“Adonis Hair Replacement Salon, Sam speaking.”

“Sam? This is Troy. How are you?”

“Troy! I’m fine. Good to hear from you. Why are you calling? Your regular appointment is still three weeks away.”

“I have finally decided to take your advice and change pieces. Is there room on your schedule to see me at 2:00 this afternoon? I’ll be through at the station by then.”

“Sure, Troy. I have an appointment at 1:00, but he is my last for the day. My afternoon is yours. I’ll see you at 2:00.”

Sam hung up the phone in the waiting room and went back into the styling room. He picked up a broom and finished cleaning the hair clippings on the floor. Sam had a very traditional barbershop right down to the black and white linoleum tiles on the floor. In the center of the room taking its pride of place was an enormous chrome barber’s chair with fire-engine red leather on the seat and back. This was the chair that Sam’s dad had used for nearly fifty years. This was the chair where Sam had his first haircut. But Sam didn’t have time to dwell on that. He had to finish cleaning up, have a small lunch, take care of his 1:00 appointment, and prepare for Troy. Troy Duncan. What a great guy. Everyone loved Troy. Everyone thought they knew Troy. He had been a fixture at the local TV station for nearly twenty years. Now he strictly did the morning and noon-time broadcasts, but was still a well-known local celebrity. “I wonder what made him decide to switch from a toupee to a full wig,” thought Sam. Troy Duncan had worn a toupee for nearly twenty-seven years. In fact, Sam’s dad had actually done the first fitting on Troy when he was only twenty-two years old. “That was just before Dad retired to Florida,” Sam said out loud to no one in particular. After Sam finished sweeping, he checked his own hair in the mirror before he went back out to the waiting room. Every silvery hair was in place. Of course it was; it never moved. It was made and styled that way. Still, before he left the room, he did give his hair a quick mist with wig hairspray. He knew Howard, his 1:00 appointment would notice. Howard noticed things like that. Howard was a relatively new type of client for Sam. In the last ten years, Sam had had an increase in clients who wore toupees or wigs. Among those were several who were a somewhat unusual because they really wanted to wear a toupee or a wig. In other words, they had no physical lack of hair precipitating the need to cover it up. Howard was one of those men.

As Sam was finishing his lunch at the reception desk, Howard walked in to the salon. He was early.

“Hi, Sam,” Howard said as he closed the office door behind him.

“I know I’m early. I'll sit over here while you finish your lunch.”

“Thanks, Howard. That would be great. I’ll be done in just a bit.”

Howard walked over to the sofa, tugged up his pants legs, and sat down. When he did this, he crossed his right leg over his left knee flashing a short jet-black sock, and the clip of his garter. Howard loved to do this. Sam chose to ignore it. Howard Gunson. Howard was only thirty-one, but he did everything he could to look like a man over sixty. Howard had on his usual barbershop attire. He was wearing hideous pale yellow beltless slacks, a thin-knit white short-sleeved dress shirt, and white patent leather loafers with a gold bar. This would have been marginally okay except that Howard was wearing an athletic undershirt which was clearly visible through the top shirt. Other undergarments were noticeable as well. When he sat down, Sam observed the knee-length boxer shorts with the tiny multi-colored diamonds underneath the beltless slacks. Also, the short dark socks held aloft by garters were clearly, but unnaturally outlined through the pants. Sam had given up trying to figure out why Howard wanted to look like this.

“Okay, Howard, I’m ready if you are.”

Howard came into the styling room.

“Howard, before we get started, don’t you think you’d better undress so we don’t have an accident like the last time?”

“Sure, Sam.”

Howard went to bathroom and undressed. When he returned, he was wearing only his undergarments. His tiny dick was already trying to poke itself out of the oversized boxer shorts that were hiding it. Howard walked across the room and got into the chair. As Sam put the cape around Howard’s neck, he looked at Howard’s hair. It either had to be the worst looking thing Sam had ever done for a client, or the best job Sam had ever done in making something nice look cheap. Howard’s toupee was coal black with a sheen. It covered most of his head. There was a left-sided part, but it was only simulated. You couldn’t see the scalp at all. Sam called this type of part a “pillowed part” or a “carpet part.” Basically, it looked like where two pieces of carpet came together, like on a staircase. The base of the toupee was mostly mesh with just a strip around the circumference for tape. The front of the rug almost embarrassed Sam. There was no lace-front hairline or anything fancy. This was old-school front under venting. Even at 100 yards, you knew this thing wasn’t real. Howard was sheepishly proud of this.

“Okay Howard, let’s get started.”

Sam put both of his hands on the base of Howard’s neck. Just above the neckline he felt for the plastic strip and loosened the tape. Howard moaned just a bit. Sam knew what was happening and stopped for just a moment to give Howard a chance to catch his breath. He put his hands at the base of Howard’s toupee and slowly peeled the toupee forward. As the toupee was removed, Howard moaned again and shot a tiny wad onto the underside of the cape.

“You know, Howard, if you were married, your wife would be so disappointed. We haven’t even started, and you’re already finished.” Sam laughed as he said this. Howard only gave an evil little smirk.

“Don’t ask me to explain it, Sam, I can’t. Just trim what I have and put me back together. I have to be at the newsstand at the airport by 3:00 this afternoon. I’m working a later shift today. You know how much I love working at the airport. It is the best place for rug spotting.”

This was something else Howard loved to do: look for toupees, and be spotted as well. Sam got the hot-lathered foam and put it on Howard’s stubble. He observed the flawless, but man-made Norwood seven horseshoe pattern on Howard’s head. With several quick strokes, Howard’s faint shadow of hair was gone. Sam trimmed the fringe with a four guard as Howard always requested. After this, Sam picked up Howard’s toupee, and placed it at his forehead. He slowly rounded it back into place. He did his best to comb the synthetic hair over the real, but too-short hair. This look made it even easier for it to be spotted.

“By the way, Howard, I hope that at your next appointment we can finally start on your laser hair removal. It will make the mpb ring look more natural when you remove your toupee. Now, up, out of the chair. Get dressed. I have another client coming at 2:00, and I need you to be gone.”

Howard got dressed, paid with a huge tip, and left. Sam swept up and waited for Troy.

Straight up 2:00, in walked Troy Duncan. To the unknowing, one might think he and Howard were alike. They both wore toupees and had the same fetish for undergarments, but that was where it ended. Troy was 48, handsome, fit, well-read, and a genuinely interesting person.

“Get in here, Troy. I did not expect to see you for three weeks much less get a call from you today.” Sam said this as he sat down on the sofa. “Sit down,” Sam said as he patted the sofa. Troy sat down and crossed his left leg over his right knee. Unlike Howard, he did not flash his garter clip even though he was always tempted to do so.

“Now Troy, why have you decided to go with a full wig? I’ve only been trying to get you to wear one for over a year.”

“Well Sam, I remember when you told me that I was losing more hair, that I was slowly but eventually going to move from a six to a seven on the Norwood scale.”

“Yes, and at that point you really need a custom-made piece. Granted, the stock pieces I get for you are good, but they won’t cover the baldness when you get to a seven,” Sam intoned.

“I know,” agreed Troy, “but my reason has less to do with a custom piece and more with the custom price attached to it.”

“You know I’d cut a deal for you. You are one of my most loyal clients . . . and most famous, well, even if no one knows that you are a client.”

“Well, I don't know about people not knowing, but I’m going to make the transition because of work.”

“Work?” Sam asked.

“Yes, work. You remember a while back I sent an audition tape to San Diego for that network job? Well, I finally heard from them yesterday. They went with Justin McKay.”

“Justin McKay? Wasn’t he that kid who interned for you a few years ago?”

“Eight years ago to be exact. Justin McKay interned for me and then the station manager actually hired him to be a researcher before he went to Atlanta. Anyway, when I found out about losing the job in San Diego, I decided just to stay here.”

“What do you mean stay here?”

“The station manager has been wanting me to sign a ten-year contract for over a year. I haven’t because I kept thinking I would move up in the market to a larger network. This was the fourth time I have been passed over. That is one of the things I hate most about news broadcasting: always having to look for the next market job. Anyway, when I signed yesterday, I just decided that now was the time. I have a worn a toupee since I was 22 years old. I just want something that's a lot easier to take care of. I'm getting older. It is time to graduate, so to speak, to a full wig.”

“I remember Dad telling me how nervous you where when you came in for that first fitting.”

“I was a wreck, mainly because I didn’t know what I was getting into. I really wasn’t that interested in wearing a toupee at that time.”

“Really, Troy, I didn’t know that. You seem so comfortable wearing one.”

“Your dad, and later on you, really helped me get comfortable wearing a toupee. My advisor was the one who really guided me to get one. He told me that if I wanted to move from behind the radio microphone to being in front of a camera, I needed a full head of hair. I didn’t think I was that bald, but I was lying to myself. By the time I decided to deal with my hair loss, I think I was almost a four on the Norwood scale with a lot of fuzz. Your dad just shaved me clean so I had a smooth surface for my first toupee. I can tell you I walked out of here with my head held high for the first time in nearly two years. When I made that first appearance for the campus news, I felt like a million bucks. I realized that I had been hiding under a silly plaid riding cap. Anyway, after I lost the job in San Diego, I signed the ten-year contract with the station. It is the same pay, but with lots of bonuses. Also, on the bright side, a full wig every two years costs far less than a toupee every six months.”

“I want to hear more about this Justin what’s-his-name. You said he interned with you?”

“Yes, about eight years ago. I guess the people in San Diego wanted someone younger than me. They can have him and his overly-permed hair.”

“Oh, my! Did you say it was Justin McKay?”

“Yes, what about him?”

“Now, I remember him. Troy, that’s not a perm.”

“What! You mean that awful hair is natural?”

“Only part of it,” Sam hinted.

“You mean Justin McKay wears a rug?”

You got it, Troy. He was one of my first fetish clients,” Sam confessed.

“Fetish clients? What on earth is that? What do they do, suck their toes or something disgusting like that?”

“Well, not exactly that. Nearly ten years ago, I started getting phone calls from men who wanted to be fitted for a toupee. It was only a few, but when they would show up for the consultation, I would discover that they had a full head of hair.”

“You mean these guys were not bald? They weren’t losing their hair at all?”

“No. They just wanted to wear a toupee.”

“I can’t imagine someone who had hair wanting to wear a toupee. I understand being bald and wanting to cover it by wearing a toupee, but to make yourself bald on purpose just to put on a toupee is a little too farfetched for me.”

“You would be surprised, Troy, just how many men actually want to do just that. My last client, just before you came today, is one of them. He is 31 and has worn a toupee on purpose since he was 25. Justin is the same way.”

“Tell me more about Justin and this other guy.”

“Let’s move to the studio so I can start on your new wig while we talk.”

“Okay,” Troy said, but neither of them moved from the sofa.

“Less than a month after you told me Justin had been hired as a researcher,” Sam continued, “I got a call from him. He told me that you had recommended me. He told me he wanted to be fitted for a toupee. I asked him how bald he was. He told me that I would need to remove a lot of hair in order to have a proper fit.”

“How did he find out I came here? Did he follow me? I know he was always asking me where I got my hair done and then he would correct himself by saying, ‘I mean. . cut.’ That always bothered me. Well, keep going.”

“So the day of the appointment came and Justin arrived on time. He had all this unruly hair. He also had a very expensive toupee in a box. He told me that he wanted to wear a toupee and that he had always wanted to wear a toupee. I told him that I just couldn’t wave a magic wand and make him bald. He got hard as a rock when I said that. I told him it would be unethical to make someone bald on purpose. I told him that he was being silly, that he didn’t need a toupee. He was not moved. He just kept begging. Finally, I told him to leave. I told him that I would think about it. He called me the next day crying. He told me that his therapist had suggested that he get a toupee to face his fears of going bald. I told him he wasn’t going bald. He said that he was. I asked for the name of his therapist. He wouldn’t give it, of course, because there wasn’t one. The day after the phone call, he showed up here in a baseball cap crying. He had shaved the top of his head. He was crying and begging me to fit him with the toupee. So, I did.”

“My God! I knew he was a little off the beam, but nothing like this. So, you fitted him with the toupee?”

“I had to. I couldn’t let him leave looking worse than Larry from the Three Stooges. It was awful. He had basically taken a beard trimmer and mowed down the middle of his head. I told him to get in the chair.”

“How did the fitting go?”

“The fitting was routine once I got his scalp prepared. He had buzzed himself to a Norwood four, but the toupee was sized for a five. After I shaped it to a level five, I was ready to shave the stubble. I got the hot-foamed lather and quickly removed all the stubble. At this point he was totally into the whole process. The boy had a ton of hair. When I turned him toward the mirror with his curly toupee setting there on its stand, he made the strangest sound. He actually shot a load in his pants. I wouldn’t let him get up. I made him sit there in all that goo while I finished. I got the toupee off the stand, put tape on the underside, and attached it to his head. The next bit took forever, and I do mean forever, over two hours. I hate working with curly hair. He kept telling me to keep his fringe longer. It really wasn’t all that long, but I did as he asked. It looked well blended, but I knew that without the toupee he was going to look like a clown. He ended up coming back every four weeks for a trim before he got that job in Atlanta. When he moved, that was the last time I saw him. Well, that is the whole saga of my first fetish client. I am sorry you lost the job to him. You are a great reporter.”

“Thanks, Sam. Can we start on my wig now? You can tell me about that other guy then. What’s his name?”

“Yes, we can start. You had better undress. These wigs are long and loaded with tons of hair. They make them that way. They come fuller than necessary. Anyway, the guy’s name is Howard. I’ll tell you about him when you get back from the bathroom.”

Troy got up and went to the bathroom to undress. He always did this whenever he had a new fitting. It was easier, cleaner, neater, and just more comfortable. As Troy walked across the room to the bathroom, he moved various items from his pants pockets to his suit-coat pockets. He also thought to himself, “How many times have I done this? How many toupees have I gotten since I was 21?” Today was something new for Troy. When he got into the bathroom, he removed his coat and hung it on one of the pegs inside the door. He closed the door and looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He loved how his tight athletic undershirt looked beneath his crisp white dress shirt. He removed his tie and hung it up. Off came the shirt and down came the pants. They slid off easily over his wing tips which he liked to keep on. Seeing himself in his tight undershirt tucked into his knee-length boxer shorts, thick-n-thin socks and garters, he gave himself a queer little smile. He said out loud to himself, “And now off goes the hair, old man.” Troy walked out of the bathroom, sat down in the barber’s chair. Sam put a fresh cape around his neck and slowly lifted the back of Troy’s toupee. Same removed it from front to back. The extent of Troy’s baldness was overwhelming to take in. Sam had been right. Troy was almost a full Norwood six. His peaks and his temples were completely gone.

“Are you sure you want to do this,” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

“Sideburns as well,” Sam asked.

“Sideburns as well. There is too much gray in them, and I never really liked them anyway. Shave it all. It will be easier in the long run.”

Sam turned on the clippers and removed Troy’s sideburns and all of his fringe. Next, he got the hot-foamed lather and the razor and removed the stubble. Suddenly, there sat Troy Duncan - Channel 14’s lead anchorman totally bald and slowly getting a massive erection.

“Oh, God! I knew this day might come, but I wasn’t really prepared for it. I’m totally and completely bald. I don’t believe it. I am completely bald.”

“Okay, Troy. Get over it. You’ve been bald most all of your adult life. Now, it is just a greater level of baldness. Welcome to my world," Sam said as he laughed. Troy lied, as well.

Now Troy, I have two styles for you. There are four wigs, two in each style. One is a traditional left-sided part, just like the toupee you’ve been wearing for several years. The other style is slightly fuller with a casual, brushed-back look to it. I really think you should go with that. I think it looks better with your facial features. Also, with this youth-obsessed market, I think it will be more attractive. What do you think?”

“I think I need to go with the hipper, brushed-back look. I’m changing from a toupee to a wig. I might as well get a better looking style as well. I also want to stop talking about my hair so you can tell me about Howard and some of your other clients. Confession is good for the soul. Confess!”

Sam put the wig on Troy’s head and turned him toward the mirror.

“I’m not going to leave it like this of course. It will be over the ears and above the collar - very professional, but casual. Okay, now about Howard. I think you might know who he is. He has a newsstand at the airport. He runs an okay business, but with him, everything is about toupees. He loves spotting guys who wear them. He also loves being spotted. He really gets off if someone notices his rug. He actually gets sweaty palms if someone stares at his hairline while they are talking to him.”

“Really? I think I know who are talking about. Maybe I should chat him up sometime just to mess with him. He’s not dangerous, is he?”

“Howard! No, he’s harmless. If you do decide to chat with him, you might pull back your coat so he can see your undershirt. He has a real underwear fetish as well.”

“Should I flash him a glimpse of garter,” Troy asked as he kicked his gartered leg out from under the giant barber’s cape.

“No, Howard might soil himself right there in the airport,” Sam laughed.

“Okay, who else is there? Keep going.”

Same continued cutting and thinning and styling Troy's new wig as he proceeded to "confess" about more of his clients.

"Well, there is Larry, the used car salesman."

"Don't tell me. He's overweight and wears a lot of gaudy jewelry?"

"No. Larry hates jewelry. Plus he is somewhat trim, even if it isn't totally natural."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I happened to notice that he looked like he had lost weight, so I complimented him. He informed me that he got tired of dieting and had gotten one of those girdle shirts that flattens everything."

Troy laughed. "So what about his hair? Is he one of your fetish clients, too?"

"Yes. He had always wanted to wear a rug, so he started tweezing his hair out. However, he quickly discovered how tedious and painful that was. He had me laser his hair off so he could permanently wear a hairpiece."

"You mean you destroyed his hair? I didn't know you were licensed to do laser hair removal, Sam."

"I've been licensed to practice that for years. Anyway, Larry had found this blond synthetic hairpiece online that he really liked. His bio hair is almost white, and doesn't match the hairpiece at all. Still Larry loves it and the attention he gets. Anyway, I have had quite a few clients over the years who have had me do laser hair removal. One of my clients is a security guard at one of the casinos here in Vegas."

"You mean some guy had all his hair lasered off?"

"Yes. He said he was tired of shaving it all the time. He's huge and muscular. The look works for him.

"Okay, Troy. I need to rinse this wig, remove it, and begin on the other one."

Sam rotated the barber's chair and lowered it. He gingerly rinsed all the loose hair from Troy's new wig. He raised the chair and gently applied a towel to Troy's head. He took a blow dryer and began styling Troy's new wig. He knew Troy wanted a hipper version of his old style, but he knew Troy's conservative tastes. He styled it off the forehead, with an easy, brushed back look. He turned the chair toward the mirror.

"So, what do you think, Troy?"

"It's perfect, Sam. Just like what we have discussed a few times over the past year. There is just enough up-sweep which I like, but not a retro pompadour. Now, any more stories? The confessional is still open."

Sam removed Troy's wig and placed it on a stand in front of the mirror next to the other, uncut model. Suddenly Troy felt vulnerable, as he always did without his hair. He shouldn't, but he did. He had been bald for half his life, hiding it under a rug. He liked to think he was fooling most of the people all of the time, but deep down, he knew most people strongly suspected that he wore a hairpiece. Yes, this new wig was nice, but it was even more obvious than his toupee. He knew he would get tons of junk emails commenting on his new look. He didn't have any fringe in which to blend it, and now no sideburns. Sam had done a great job thinning out the wig, but the temples were obviously taped to his now totally hairless scalp. His fringe before had been thin and wispy. He knew this fuller wig would look a lot better. Sam put tape on the second wig and put it on Troy's totally bald head. He liked the tight grip of the tape on his scalp. Since that first day he had put on his new toupee in his dorm room, he had always enjoyed how it felt sitting on his bald head.

"Well, Troy," Sam said as he began cutting on Troy's spare wig.

"Well what, Sam? Are you going to continue with the confessions?"

"Let me make a quick phone call, and then I'll give you an exclusive confession that will snap your garters."

Sam quickly returned a few minutes later with a smile on his face.

"So, what makes this next confession so much better than the others you have shared?"

"Well, this one is about me, Troy."

"You? I thought you were naturally bald. When I first came here all those years ago, you were already wearing a toupee. If I remember correctly you're only four years older than me. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Troy. I just turned 52. And, yes, I was wearing a toupee when we first met, but it was partly due to my desire to be like my dad."

"I don't understand, Sam."

"You knew my dad along with two other barbers in town kept all the male stars and celebrities looking their best when they would perform at the casinos. Whenever one of the barbers would order a new wig for a certain tipsy member of the Rat Pack, he would also order one for my dad. My dad really liked that full style. All the Hollywood stars had their own barbers or used Max Factor. Here in the desert, if a man was going bald, he either went without hair or went with second best. Anyway, I'm getting away from my story. When I started working here, sweeping up after school as a teenager, I noticed that a lot of my dad's customers were uncomfortable with me around because I had a full head of hair. One day after work I asked my dad if I embarrassed him because I didn't wear a hairpiece like he did. That really upset him because he said that I could never embarrass him. That's when I told him that I really wanted to wear a toupee like he did. He said that I was being silly. He said there was no way he would let me wear one when I didn't need to wear one. I asked him if he would let me wear one if I did need one. He said he would. So, I took the clippers and gave myself a tiny bald spot. He couldn't believe I did it. He made me wait until the next day to fit me with a little slider that he had in a drawer."

"A slider? What's that?"

"Oh, that is a little piece for the crown area. It can be worn with clips or glue."

"So, you're telling me that you had a toupee fetish just like some of your clients?"

"Yes, Troy, I am. I started wearing a rug when I was still in high school. By the time I graduated and went to beauty school, I was a full Norwood five."

"What did your friends at school think?"

"Those that knew, thought that my dad made me wear one for his business. I couldn't let people think my dad was that cruel. I told them that I was losing my hair and didn't want to be bald. Remember Troy, this is Los Vegas. Everyone cares about how they look. Half the girls in my graduating class wore extra padding in their bras!"

As Sam was finishing his confession to Troy, the chime on the front door rang.

"I thought I was your last client, Sam. I can't let anyone see me. The public may suspect that I wear a hairpiece, but I don't want them to have a face-to-face confirmation."

"He's not coming in here, Troy. Let me rinse and style this wig while I explain. Now, he is a long-time client, but he's not here for an appointment. You see, I have a second confession to make. You probably don't remember Sean Dugan. He was a professional bodybuilder and model, but after a car accident, he was working part-time as a security guard at your station when you were having all those issues with Justin. He found out that Justin was the one who kept sabotaging your network chances.

Sam turned Troy around in the chair, rinsed all the loose hair from the spare wig, and then began styling it like he had the first one.

"Troy, Sean, was the one who brought Justin here. He hated how Justin would talk about you behind your back at the station. Sean hated the snide comments Justin made about your toupee. Sean put a stop to it by convincing me to teach Justin a lesson with my laser. He didn't have to work very hard."

Troy got up out of the chair, took off the barber's cape, and walked into the lobby. He didn't say anything. He just walked up to Sean, softly put both hands on his face, and kissed him the way he had always dreamed of years ago when he would see him at the station.

After that long, passionate kiss Sean just looked down at Troy Duncan's old-fashioned undergarments and smiled. Troy just smiled as he glanced up at Sean's light cocoa colored toupee.

Later, the two of them went out to eat, but ended up back at Troy's condo for dessert and more.

(You can fill in the rest!)

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