Page 96 of The Sasquatch and the Hairdresser

He starts at my head, working the brush through my long tresses, the bristles penetrating deep and rubbing against my scalp like the best kind of scratch you’ve ever felt. All too quickly, I enter a state of blissful peace as he makes his way down my body with that brush, using firm, confident strokes.

When he’s working on my arms, he pauses for a moment. “Uh, Hal?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you… purring?”

My eyes flutter open, and I realize I am indeed making some throaty rumbling noise I didn’t even know I was capable of.

“I don’t know. I’ve never made a noise like this before. Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. What you’re doing feels so good. I’m the most relaxed I’ve been in years.”

Relief washes over Skylar’s face, and he nods proudly. “Of course, cuz I’m a master at my craft. Now you just go ahead and close those eyes and keep on purring, and I’ll keep on brushing. Deal?”

“Deal.”

I sink into the zone again and bask in the pleasure of a full body brushing. When Skylar has finished brushing the front of me, he has me turn over and begins working on the back of my body.

I don’t know how long this goes on but by the time he’s done, I’m so at peace I’m ready to nod off.

“Okay, Hal,” he murmurs quietly. “We’re ready to wash you and then I can cut your hair. I promise, there’s more good stuff to come.”

I don’t have any complaints. Not one whatsoever. In fact, I’d like nothing more than for this experience to never end.

Skylar pulls a retractable showerhead out of the wall and steps to the top of the chair, where he first starts wetting my scalp. The hot water feels good, and that strange rumbling noise I don’t quite know how I’m making echoes throughout the room.

It takes a while to get all of me wet, but once Skylar is satisfied, he starts diligently working a special shampoo through my thick hair. Since he has so much ground to cover, he uses a special mitt on his right hand that helps him work the shampoo through all of it thoroughly. Even the shampoo, which has a pleasant, fresh, faintly citrusy smell, is relaxing.

Once I’m lathered up, Skylar spends extra time on my scalp, where he removes the glove and uses his bare hands to massage me with his strong, deft fingers.

I can’t help it. I moan.

Skylar chuckles. “You like that, huh?”

“It’s divine.”

“My clients always tend to like this part of the process. We hold a lot of tension in our scalp, you know, so it’s good to have somebody work on it for you from time to time. I’m happy I can do this for you.”

Eventually, Skylar starts rinsing out the shampoo, and when I’m squeaky clean, he comes back with a tray full of tools and gets to work on trimming. My body’s hair is thicker and coarser in certain parts, and for that, he uses a special electric razor device, careful to steer clear of my skin. He’s so focused on what he’s doing that I can’t help but stare at him in awe.

Skylar’s so talented, and he doesn’t seem to even realize it. He’s also very passionate about what he loves, and he gives his all to it. I don’t have a single shred of doubt that he’s going to make this into a thriving and much beloved business in town—especially if he shows the same level of attentiveness and care to his other clients.

To my surprise, I feel a flicker of selfish desire that hopes he doesn’t treat them quite as well as me. It might be wrong, but I love the idea of being special to him. After all, he is already so very special to me.

Skylar saves my beard and the hair on my head until last. For those, he returns the chair to an upright seated position, and he spends a lot of time framing the hair around my face and tidying my beard until he’s satisfied.

I can’t help but gape when he brings out an enormous industrial-sized hair dryer and has me move to the dry section of the room, where he proceeds to give me a “full blowout” for the first time in my life.

As he dries my hair, he uses that specialty brush again, and I close my eyes while I revel in the sensation. I already can’t wait to have him cut my hair again one day.

I know someone like me is a much bigger job to complete, but I’m more than willing to pay him for all my future appointments—and I won’t take no for an answer!

Once more, I slip into a zone of relaxation under Skylar’s talented ministration. I’m almost falling asleep again when Skylar turns off the hair dryer and has me stand and face the floor-length mirror on the opposite wall. I stare at myself in amazement.

I look incredible.

My body hair is so much tidier than it has been in years, and whatever shampoo he used has left a nice glossy sheen that makes it look silky soft. But I’m most amazed by the work he did on my head and my beard. He deliberately cut my hair to frame my face in a way that makes me look so much more attractive than I ever thought I could.

“What do you think?” he asks, a hint of apprehension in his voice, and I realize I’ve been standing there staring in silence for a bit too long.