Drop #7: Haircut

He went to sit on the off green bench in the mall in front of the tiny female hair salon and its wide-open front door. He’d been doing plenty of this on his lunch break, and once or twice on weekends, watching the one hairdresser in particular do her clients. She was very good and efficient, getting through several in an hour. He enjoyed observing her hands as she worked. She called her clients ‘doll’ or ‘love’ and he found that charming too.

He wondered if she’d noticed him watching her. She must have. ‘Maybe she thinks I’m a pervert,’ he thought. ‘Maybe she likes the idea. Maybe she masturbates over me at night, or not over me, but over being watched by someone, anyone. I wonder if she’d still do it if I were a small black man, or a woman, or an old guy with grey hair and a belly. Of course,’ he thought, ‘the question makes no sense if she doesn’t masturbate over me, or my voyeurism in the first place. There would be no frame of reference. Then again, she might not even consider masturbating over me, but would be going at it like gangbusters, if it were a 7-foot tall, bald Croatian with scarred face watching her cut hair during his lunch break every day.’

So many came in: an endless stream of old wrinkled ladies, fat women stuffed into shoes too small, dumpy little things in ugly clothes, and stringy creatures, beige and forgettable. It was a cheap mall and the demographic was not a flattering one. As it did every time, it amazed him how much effort people put into specific parts of their appearance, like hair, eyebrows and toenails, when the overall outcome could never stray far from the unsightly. ‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘I am ugly too, but only on the inside.’ He’d stopped fighting that fact long ago and been happier for it. As for looks, he felt that though he was nothing too special, he was better looking than the going average. ‘Surely someone would find me attractive enough to masturbate over,’ he thought. ‘It doesn’t have to be the hairdresser.’

‘Maybe,’ he thought then, ‘I should go in for a cut myself. See her close up. Feel her in action.’ He took out a sandwich, ham and Swiss on wonder bread, and considered his options. ‘I don’t really need a haircut though. Or do I? One can never know these things for sure.’

By E.M. Vireo


About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

2 Responses to Drop #7: Haircut

  1. eeektwitter says:

    Call it “Lunch Break” instead?

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